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"Gross," Tsubasa said, staring blankly across the playground.
Izuku spun on his heel, hair whipping against his forehead. On the sidewalk, where Tsubasa had been looking, stood an old man with long hair. Nothing seemed particularly gross about him.
"Don't say that," Izuku said, scuffing his toe in the dirt, "That's mean."
All of a sudden, the old man coughed into his hand. Blood streamed between his fingers, splattering down onto the ground.
"See," Tsubasa said.
Izuku was already running. He'd made it about halfway when his shoe caught on the bottom corner of a slide and he wiped out into the mulch.
Behind him, other kids started laughing.
Izuku pushed himself up onto his elbows and spit tiny pieces of wood out of his mouth. His palms stung, scraped.
Up ahead, the old guy pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and started wiping his hand.
Izuku jumped up and kept running—over the lip at the edge of the playground, across the small strip of grass—then he was standing on the sidewalk, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
"Are you alright there, young man?"
Izuku looked up into the sunken eyes of the stranger. "I—huh?"
"You took quite the tumble," the man said, smiling.
"Uh," Izuku said, mind still scrambled. He pressed his eyes shut, shook his head, and then tried to start over. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"
The old man burst out laughing. It was a good sound, deep and full, kind of like All Might. Then it morphed into coughing again.
Izuku dug his hands into his pockets, but he didn't have any tissues. Those were in his school backpack, which was at home. "Are you okay? Can you breathe?"
The man nodded, wiping his face with the handkerchief. When he'd finished, he stuck it back in his pocket. "Young man, I don't think you fell quite that hard."
"Oh, no!" Izuku said, face flushing. He was terrible at this. "I mean for you!"
The stranger's eyebrows shot up. Then he smiled again. "Ah. I should have expected that. Tell me, young man, do you want to be a hero?"
"Yes!" Izuku blurted, jumping up and down.
"You have good instincts," the man continued, "When you thought I might be in trouble, you ran over right away."
Izuku's eyes welled up with tears. He rubbed them with his knuckles, trying to push it all back in. Instead, his breath hitched, and he had to bite his lip.
Beside him, the stranger crouched, knees creaking. He was very tall, so his shoulders still towered over Izuku, but this brought their heads a lot closer. "Young man, are you sure that you're alright?"
Izuku took in an unsteady breath. "Mmm. But—you never told me—about the ambulance."
The stranger shook his head. "I don't need an ambulance. My health issues are chronic but manageable. This isn't an emergency for me."
"Oh," Izuku said, gripping the hem of his shirt. He didn't know what chronic meant, but if this wasn't an emergency, then maybe it would be rude to ask. "Sorry."
"It's quite alright," the man said, standing up again, "In fact, I could use some help, though of a different sort. Could you direct me to the nearest payphone? I don't seem to have any service here."
Izuku held out his hand. "I can show you!"
Slowly, the stranger took his hand. His fingers were long and rough, like all old people who had worked hard.
Grinning, Izuku turned and marched down the sidewalk, tugging his new acquaintance along. "Who do you need to call?"
It took the stranger a moment to answer. "Some old friends."
Izuku nodded. It made sense that an old man would have friends who were also old.
Suddenly, Izuku's feet slowed down as he realized two things that were very important. This grownup had friends. And so far, he'd been very nice to Izuku.
"Is something the matter?" the stranger asked.
"Um," Izuku said, scuffing his toe again, "Is there—a secret to making friends? I'm not—very good at it."
"I don't think that's true," the stranger said, "When you saw me in trouble, you reached out right away. The secret to friends is finding someone who will reach back. If everyone around you decides not to, that doesn't mean that you've done something wrong."
Izuku bit his lip, considering. It was reassuring, but it also wasn't what he wanted to hear. If there was some procedure that he was messing up, then it also would be possible to fix.
"Don't worry too hard about it," the stranger said, "I'm certain that as you get older you'll make wonderful friends. You'll grow into a fine hero." Then his hand pulled out of Izuku's grip.
Izuku gasped in spite of himself. The way this man said it wasn't like he was guessing, it was like he already knew. Maybe he had a quirk like Nighteye's. He looked over and up. "Is it really—"
The man was gone.
Izuku looked up and down the street. Then he ran back into the playground to check behind the bushes, even though that was silly. The stranger was way too tall to hide back there. Foiled, Izuku tapped his chin. Either he was going crazy—which was unlikely, since Tsubasa had also seen him—or this was the work of a quirk.
"What's your name?" Izuku said, too late. There was an odd feeling behind his ribs. Somewhere out there, somebody believed in him. And Izuku would never be able to find him again.
When Izuku dropped down out of the sky, nothing looked out of the ordinary. A little girl stood near the playground, crying softly.
"Hey," Izuku said, crouching down beside her, "Are you alright?"
"He's gone!" the girl wailed, "That nice man!"
"No," All Might said, "In fact, I am here."
Izuku stood up and turned. Behind him, All Might had appeared on the sidewalk. The knot in his chest immediately loosened. "All Might, are you okay? I got a call that you were affected by a quirk. What happened."
All Might smiled. "My boy—don't you remember?"