Chapter Text
- Time: ??? -
"You go by many names. First, it was Deku. When you were a villain-"
"Criminal, detective, criminal. Villains use their quirks, criminals don't."
"...Fine. But when you were a vigilante, it was Dekiru. Two opposing meanings, 'useless' and 'usefulness.' To be able to do. You were a capable villain, so I wonder why you went by that name. The latter is honestly more fitting." He said, tilting his head and fixing the criminal with a cold, hard stare. "I wish it didn't go this way. I really, really did."
"I don't blame you for that, detective. Honestly, I know you did what you could back then. I appreciate it... Not what occurred after though, the HPSC should rot in hell." Dekiru hummed, swaying his body while he sat on the chair, hands and feet locked up in iron. "Symbolism, detective. Symbolism. So what do you want to know?"
Tsukauchi's gaze hardened. "I want to know your whole story. Because-"
Dekiru cut him off once again. "-Because we've met before. A long, long time ago."
The other man huffed.
"Indeed. So are you going to tell me?"
He laughed. "Of course! You know the start though, but how about a recap?"
The tan sleeves of Tsukauchi's coat shifted as he clasped his hands. "That would be appreciated."
Deviation of a hero - start
The first moments that seemed to start it all, apart from the incessant bullying and nagging of this thoughts, was the crack of a new notebook.
Blue, ruled pages, and a big white circle proclaiming '84 sheets!' on the front. Each page with it's printed lines and the 'My name is' decal on the inside cover.
He stared at it.
A few hours ago, he had talked to All-Might.
All-Might.
And the man- no, the stupid stupid stupid hero had told him that everything was useless and futile and-
Okay. Calm down, hold a grudge, whatever. Back on track.
-The natural reaction after he had been left on a roof was climb down and fall into a wonderful dumpster and have to take a shower as soon as he got home. He had ran home and avoided looking at anyone after that.
Breathe. He needed to breathe.
Yeah, he was still a little angry after his idol was ruined for him forever.
Cracking the spine once more, Izuku scooched over on his rolly-chair and hooked his fingers under the desk drawer, pulling out a similarly brand new pack of ballpoint pens. Pink, green, red, blue, and black stared up at him through the plastic.
He picked black.
"Izuku! I'm going to the supermarket!" His mother suddenly called.
"'Kay! The one nearby, right?" He shouted. "Yep!" She said.
Leaning back in his chair and meeting his mother's gaze from outside his room, he gave her a smile. "Love you."
"I love you too! It's hot pot and I want the veggies fresh so I'll try to get back fast." She said, chuckling as she grabbed a black and white checkered bag off a wall hook.
"Ooh! That's nice!" He said, his gaze fixing back on his things as he heard his mother walk away.
...Anyways, Back to business.
Uncapping the pen and scraping off the red ball with his fingernail, he twiddled it in his fingers for a moment before slamming the book down and opening it with a flourish. For a second, he debated what to write and had precisely three words down when he stopped.
'All-Might transformation-'
Sure, the sludge villain was in police custody but what if some villain found the notebook and read all about it? Or Kacchan? Word would spread around quick.
He sighed, and scribbled out the words.
'All-Might transformation' Stared up at him.
He let out a sigh, and put the pen between his index and middle finger, moving it back and forth with a sort of hummingbird-like, fidgety motion. What to write?
Oh, what to write?
The feeling when you had pens, paper, or an empty screen staring back at you because you didn't know what to put down was one of the worst feelings, definitely up there. Izuku let out another bedraggled sigh.
Shifting in his chair a little to the left, he turned the knob on his old collectable radio- The might of: series where they turned normal objects into things spitting All-Might's signature colours. Honestly, collecting things was fun and he loved the hero, so it had turned into a bit- no, a total obsession.
He needed to take some posters down for sure.
Finally settling the knob on a station he liked, Izuku hummed to an old song. "Sun-shine, lollipops and rain-bows, everything that's wonderful," he hummed quietly, bobbing his head as he absentmindedly started to sketch a little version of Kamui Woods.
A little wooden man stared up at him, slogan written sloppily next to him: "I am here!" Even though that wasn't his motto. Little leaves creeped around his mask and he held a pointed finger in the air. Scratching his pencil sideways to fill in his blank super suit with lines, his free hand turned to change the channel on the radio again. Crime news.
He liked to analyze villains, heroes, or mentioned civilians. The QUIRK! Super: channel was better for that but he was feeling in the mood for something more interesting.
"Hedero Viran, estimated to be around thirty years old, has escaped police custody and attacked a supermarket by Dagobah beach... Police have-"
Mom's out shopping.
Dagobah was nearby too.
Izuku took out a slow breath and smiled to no one in particular. It was fine.
...
His skin was on fire. It felt like it was burning with nerves, and his stomach was twisted with knots. Something was wrong. Well- well, something felt wrong.
Really wrong.
He paused. After a second, Izuku rummaged through his pockets and grabbed his phone, unlocking it with ease and clicking on contacts.
Mom.
He clicked.
He waited.
He listened.
"Sorry if I didn't answer, I'm a little busy! Just leave a message, I'll get to it as soon as I can!" His mother's voice chirped back at him.
No.
Nonononononononono.
His gaze whipped back to the radio. Izuku prayed he hadn't missed anything and turned it up with shaking hands.
"Two injured and one deceased. The injured are..."
Izuku clasped his hands together and prayed. Prayed to anyone or anything that was listening.
"...Misaki Tsujimira and Murasaki D..."
Oh. Thank god. His mom hadn't arrived yet, who was he to think that she would get there that fast? Sure, it was a minute if you speed walked, but why would she be in a hurry?
"...Hot pot tonight so I want fresh veggies."
It rattled in his brain.
The news prattled on about the injured for a moment and Izuku shot up, palms pressing into his desk.
"The deceased: Inko Midoriya, age 40. The sludge villain flooded her lungs-"
He collapsed.
The last thing he heard was his own shuddering sob getting cut off by darkness.
- Three hours later -
"My name is Tamagawa Sansa, I'm going to ask you some questions, okay? Call me Sansa if that's what makes you feel comfortable. "
Izuku looked down at his hands.
"No."
He then realized it sounded like he was refusing to call the- call Tamagawa, Sansa, whatever his name. "I- I mean, I need a moment, someone already bombarded be with questions a few hours ago," He said, voice rough and fingers raw from scraping.
The cat- man? Cat-man's eyes widen for a moment. "...Of course, would you like to go home or stay here for the night? We can give you some amenities."
He peeled and pulled at the band-aids on his fingers, watching the nude tone, sticky bandage curl in on itself, peeking at the red that stained the white cotton underneath.
"Here." He whispered, voice hoarse.
He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to rewind time to three hours ago and talk to his mom for a few minutes before she went to the supermarket.
In the span of a two minutes, his mom had walked there. Minute two, the sludge villain attacked. Minute three, the news reported on it.
He had sat there twiddling with a pen like an idiot.
Tamagawa said some bullshit about 'There's nothing you could have done,' When Izuku knew damn well he could've stopped the entire thing by happening if he just told All-Might, the stupid symbol of peace to watch the stupid, stupid, stupid fucking sludge villain so he couldn't kill. His. Mother.
All he wants right now is Inko.
Inko is not here. His mother, one of the only people who accepted him and gave a damn-
Stop swearing. Stop it. Stop it. Mom doesn't like it when people swear.
She was gone.
Why should he care?
She was gone.
He should honour her memory?
She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone.
She. Was. Gone.
"Can you call the father?... Uh, Hisashi Midoriya?" He hears Sansa say from outside the frosted glass of the room. They found him a few minutes after his mom when she apparently called out his name and they went to check.
God, he was such a terrible son. He put his head in his hands. His dying mother was the reason he was sitting on a cushy police station chair.
"He's listed as providing monthly income, and he and Ms. Midoriya didn't divorce, but she put note that they weren't close. He hasn't answered."
Izuku looked like a fool. Absent father, dead mother. Practically an orphan.
He massaged his face in his hands.
Wait.
He was quirkless too.
Sure, his landlord- Kayama-san, she was a nice lady, but why would you give a quirkless lid relying on his oversea father's child support in all honesty instead of some quirked, rich, or even average paying customer? Izuku knew exactly how much his father sent every time, it was barely enough to cover rent. It wouldn't cover the costs of U.A's fancy tuition fee. Sure, the place offered scholarships like candy, so much so that paying full price was rare.
From what he had heard, at least.
But there was no doubt they would make him pay. Hell, why had he been thinking like he passed the entrance exam?
He had to find someone to live with. But his mom had no sisters, his dad barely spoke to them, and. And there was no one.
Izuku let another shuddering breath into his hands.
Wait.
Aunt Mitsuki.
His eyes lit up with hope for a moment, then dropped. Kacchan.
Kacchan would do everything to make sure not a peep went out to his parents about his wrongdoings- if they saw the wounds, the two were smart enough to peace together what their Katsuki had done.
Izuku had to find a way to get money. And get it fast. Hell, Kayama-san would let him stay if he had the cash to prove himself, right?
A sort of wishful thinking clouded over his mind and he had a delirious smile on his face, Izuku could tell. Just think of a way to get money.
Once of his classmates had been arrested for delivering drugs while working for some local Yakuza. Yakuza weren't stupid villains. Sure, they were dangerous, but the only reason the kid had been caught was because he bragged about it.
If Izuku played his cards right, told no one, and did his job well, he could get enough money to live. And then move out to a much cheaper place, a... A quirkless community, even.
Man, he was laying on the wishful thinking thick.
The door clicked and he wiped his delusions off his face, turning to face the frosted glass and watching Sansa's paw push it open, the other arm carrying a small basket with a blanket, some band-aids, shampoo, and other things. "We have a spare room in the station with a bathroom, feel free to use whatever's in here and wash up." He offered an apologetic smile.
"Thanks." Izuku whispered, taking the basket gratefully.
Sansa's being nice now, but the moment you become a little criminal, he's going to hate you.
Then hate me he will. I have a life to put together, before it's too late.
Breaking news, his mind chortled, "Izuku Midoriya: Drug delivery boy at fourteen, dead mother, non existent father, you're going to love this one!"
It also seemed to scream "Get it together!"
Chapter 1 - The Start
End