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Izuku has stood out his whole life. First, it had been his status as quirkless, isolating him and leaving him alone with no one but his mother and distant father for support. And All Might, although the hero himself has no idea how much he means to Izuku.
The worst of it, though—that had come later.
See, Izuku is wingless, too.
In a society where wings are a part of everything from the moment they come in with a child’s quirk, being wingless is pretty much anathema. A social pariah from the moment he passed the age of four without wings, Izuku has forever been set apart, doomed to be grounded and to watch everyone around him soar in the skies without him.
Izuku doesn’t even get to be broken-winged, something feared and pitied. No, he is simply a living ghost instead, something not to be looked at nor interacted with.
His life remains that way for years. Despite it all, Izuku struggles to let go of the idea that he could still be a hero, even wingless and quirkless. If a broken-winged man can still be a hero, surely Izuku can do it with no wings at all? There has to be a way, and Izuku will find it, no matter what it takes.
He too, can become a hero. He knows it.
The first change happens on the morning of the UA entrance exam, as Izuku stands in front of All Might on that fateful beach, eating a hair. All Might’s enormous golden wings quiver, letting Izuku see the iridescent rainbow of color on their underside that shifts in the morning light.
He doesn’t feel anything other than nauseous at eating the hair, but he has faith in All Might that this is the correct way to transfer the quirk.
Staring down the zero-pointer about to step on the girl who’d saved him from falling, he finally manages to call upon the quirk he’s been given. As he falls towards a certain death after destroying the robot, Izuku can only think that saving her and experiencing flying of a sort once in his life was worth the effort. He’s managed to be a hero, too.
The burning sensation in his back grows stronger before wings burst forth from between his shoulder blades, desperately trying but failing to catch the air and slow Izuku’s descent. They wrench painfully in their sockets and send Izuku spinning before he manages to pull them in closer to his body on instinct.
The slap of a hand across his face is the last thing Izuku feels before succumbing to the pain of his many broken limbs and passing out.
When he wakes, he is entirely alone in a room that he has never seen before. Judging by the sterile white sheets of the bed he’s found himself in, he is certain it must be UA’s hospital wing. Izuku moves to prop himself up on his elbows, hoping to get a better look at the room, but instead flinches from the sudden pain that shoots up his spine.
He curls in on himself with a faint keen of agony. After a few moments, the stabbing sensation subsides. Izuku’s breaths run ragged as he holds himself as still as possible, trying not to trigger it again.
Hesitantly, he turns further over on the bed until he is lying on his stomach, head turned to the side. His broken arm screams at the new position, and he holds it as far away from himself as possible to try to relieve the tension there. His wings—his wings!—flutter without him thinking about it and settle against his back. There is still a faint twinge in one of his wings, though he can’t tell which one.
Izuku debates the merit of trying to see if he can move his wings consciously, but before he can get very far in the mental argument (pros: he really wants to know what his wings feel like when he’s using them on purpose, cons: the ceaseless agony), the door eases open.
“With how much work my quirk had to do, he should still be sleeping,” a voice that Izuku instantly identifies as Recovery Girl begins, “and it was too much healing to complete in one go, so he’ll need to—Oh, he’s awake!”
“My boy!” All Might exclaims, rushing to Izuku’s bedside and crouching to meet his eyes.
Izuku opens his mouth to respond, but all that manages to come out is a low, pained groan.
“Oh dear,” Recovery Girl murmurs from somewhere out of his line of sight. “He shouldn’t still be in this much pain.”
“Any pain is too much pain,” All Might counters, but to Izuku, it almost sounds like he’s suddenly underwater.
He’s sweating now, he thinks, moisture beading on his forehead and running down his face to mingle with his tears.
A wet cloth is suddenly brushing in soothing motions over his face, and Izuku lets out a muted sound of appreciation that he hopes translates to whoever is trying to help.
The pain that had been barely manageable when he’d first woken up is steadily ratcheting higher the longer he lays awake, and he almost finds himself wishing he’d just pass out again already if only to escape the all-encompassing agony coursing through him.
“What’s happening to him?” a familiar voice asks from far away. The question is accompanied by the wonderful slow drag of the cool rag against Izuku’s heated skin.
“I… I’d assume it’s the wings,” another voice murmurs, the sound of a rapidfire click-clacking of keys ringing through Izuku’s aching head.
“Most people get them alongside their quirks, after all, and they start small and grow along with the child as they get older. Midoriya has gone from zero to fully grown in an instant, and it seems his body doesn’t know what to do with it. All those new nerves and muscles snapping into place, new bones and movement ranges—it’s a big change to simply pop into existence from one second to the next.”
Silence.
Then, “I’m not sure he’ll ever be able to actually use them…”
Izuku finally passes out.
Izuku sits alone on Dagobah Beach, wings spread and curved around him. They don’t quite shield him from the wind like he thought they would, but it’s a good angle for staring.
The wings themselves are… he can’t decide how he feels. They’re a deep emerald green, almost black, but they shine in the sunlight with an iridescence that should remind him of All Might’s golden rainbow, but reminds him more of the sheen on an oil spill.
He should be ecstatic, right? One of his lifelong desires, fulfilled, right along with All Might’s quirk. His heart should be soaring.
Wings and a quirk.
Wings that won’t fly and a quirk that breaks him.
It’s like every good thing in his life has to go slightly wrong, just because it’s him. Funny, right?
The good news is that it wasn’t hard to explain the wings to Mom. Quirk showed up, so wings showed up. It was much harder to explain the quirk itself, but she kind of had to accept whatever he said. It’s not like anyone can give a quirk to someone, right? That’s impossible. So it must be some genetic fluke.
The bad news is that everyone else knows something happened. Suddenly having wings is not subtle. Even the strangers at the exam will know that he used to be nothing, if he ends up in school with them.
Which he won’t.
He didn’t get any points at all. He failed the entrance exam, and he failed All Might. And here’s his consolation prize, spread out around him.
The muscles in his abdomen that move the wings don’t hurt anymore, not like they did the first day. It’s like when he first started his beach training, trying to move a fridge with his skinny little arms. It’s still so weird having them there at all, flexing under his skin when he thinks about them, but he’ll get used to it. Hopefully.
The shadow under his wings is overtaken by the shadow of someone standing over him. He looks up.
“I thought I might find you here,” All Might says. “Admiring your success, eh?”
“Not really.” Izuku ducks to rest his head on his knees, his wings involuntarily twitching closer as if to shield him. “Wasn’t much of a success in the end, was it? It’s not like I got into UA, after all.”
All Might frowns and leans closer, shaking a scolding finger at Izuku. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, young man.”
Izuku blinks. “My… chickens?”
“Wha—yes, your chickens, that’s how the saying has always gone!” All Might blusters for a moment before he finds a place of levity again. “I happen to know that you haven’t received your letter of admission—or otherwise—yet, so why would you assume you won’t be accepted?”
“Why would I be?” Izuku returns miserably. “I got no points. I broke a lot of bones. And that was because of my quirk. And my wings won’t work!” He flops onto his back on the beach, then winces at the twinge that shoots through his wings.
“Oh, my boy,” All Might sighs. Carefully, he lowers himself to sit on the beach beside Izuku. “You didn’t do as badly as you think. Yes, the quirk needs work,” he admits, forestalling Izuku’s protest, “but you also saved the life of a fellow applicant, and that doesn’t go unnoticed! Do you truly believe that UA would turn away a student who has shown such heroic potential?”
Izuku pushes himself up to sitting so he can look All Might in the eyes. “Wait, you mean—I might have a chance?”
“Technically I’m not supposed to say either way,” All Might hedges as he nods.
A fierce swell of joy floods through Izuku, but just as he smiles at All Might, his wings jolt and shudder, making him flop over. He tries to right himself, but his wings refuse to cooperate.
Izuku can tell that he looks ridiculous, and All Might’s badly stifled laughter does nothing to help him get his wings back under control.
“We will have to work with you to get those wings cooperating, eh?” All Might's laughter echoes across the beach. “You aren’t the first to need help with wings and using them, and you certainly won’t be the last. I will contact some instructors so we can get you some lessons. In the meantime, I can help you with some of the strengthening exercises I had to use when mine came in late.”
A warm smile crinkles All Might’s eyes at the corners as he reaches out a hand towards Izuku. Izuku takes it, still beaming.
“Yes please, I’d like that, so much. I, uh, they are hard to handle right now.” Izuku bounces in place and nearly falls over as the wings send him off-balance.
Chuckling, All Might instructs Izuku on what exercises to use, making sure to admonish him not to overdo it lest he strain the muscles or damage his wings. They are vulnerable right now, being so new and so large for being so new.
Recently healed as well, for the double whammy of vulnerability.
Izuku solemnly promises to follow instructions and doggedly memorizes everything All Might has to say.
“How the hell did you do it?”
Izuku looks up from his lunch. Kacchan had been glaring at him all day, though at least he didn’t swarm Izuku with the other students who were “only curious.” He told them all the readily-rehearsed lines about late bloomers and genetic rarities, but he should’ve known Kacchan wouldn’t buy it.
They’re alone in Aldera’s courtyard, none of Kacchan’s followers around. It’s just the two of them.
“I don’t-“
“You have to have a better explanation than what you gave those extras. Shit like this doesn’t just happen to people. There’s something you’re not telling me, Deku.”
The Izuku that used to dream of flying alongside Kacchan wants to tell him the truth so badly. What happened to him was amazing; surely something even Kacchan could get excited about. Now that his admission to UA is confirmed and he’s learning to use his wings, they can finally be friends again, right?
All Might says no one can know. He hasn’t even told Mom. But Kacchan…
“You’re right. Something did happen. I- I really want to tell you, but I can’t tell anyone-“
“That’s bullshit.” Kacchan’s hands pop where they’re settled at his sides. “Fine, keep your damn secrets. Just don’t get in my way.”
And Izuku is alone again.
The quirk assessments are… they sure are something.
He can’t quite ignore how many people stare at him, between Eraserhead, Kacchan, and several of the people he recognizes from his exam location. The tall boy who yelled and then apologized and the sweet girl who saved him are nice, at least. They don’t comment on how weird everything is.
Eraserhead’s ruse scares him so badly, but he isn’t expelled yet, so that’s something!
The blond boy with the glittery, pale-blue wings and the laser quirk approaches him before the flight assessment. He’s one of a few students whose wings don’t match their hair. It’s rare, but not unheard of, especially with hair dye and feather treatments out there.
“A late bloomer, oui? I must confess that I’m one as well,” he says with a wink, like they’re sharing something top secret. He goes through his wing stretches slowly, and they’re similar to the ones Izuku was taught only weeks ago. “We must have each other's backs, I think.”
Eraserhead whistles, and it’s time to take flight.
So Izuku does.
Barely.
It’s alright at first; he manages to take off just fine, and even manages to catch an artificial updraft coming off the vents in the walls. For one glorious moment, Izuku gets to soar like he’d always imagined he would.
And then something pulls wrong, something locks up, something screeches in pain.
And then Izuku is falling, and not with style.
He tries to catch himself, he really does, but that just makes the pain worse. It almost feels like something is actively fighting him, like Izuku isn’t in control of the wings protruding from his back.
They’d been willing to behave when he’d stuck to the ground, with the exception of the odd twitch and flutter that Izuku hadn’t voluntarily controlled.
He’d thought it was just standard growing pains, had thought he’d just needed more practice.
Now, hurtling towards the ground, it almost feels like the wings are trying to flap on their own without his input and simply can’t adjust for his weight.
Just before Izuku would have made a harsh impact with the ground, there’s a familiar flaring boom from somewhere at his back, and then a warm, sweaty palm is snatching him up by the wrist and halting his fall cold.
“The fuck was that, Deku?”
And Izuku just stares at Kacchan wide-eyed and ignores the pain in the shoulder that had been wrenched by his sudden jolting stop.
“I… I don’t know.”
Inwardly Izuku is panicking, spiraling as he attempts to understand what had even occurred. He’s never felt like an outsider in his own body before, yet that had been exactly what this had felt like. Like he was just an observer in a body piloting itself.
He doesn’t know he’s shaking until he feels the floor beneath his feet and nearly collapses. Only Kacchan catching him keeps him from ending up a puddle of misery on the ground. His legs refuse to hold him upright, and he simply leans into Kacchan’s grip, desperately trying to ground himself in the warmth.
He can hear others around them, clamoring with questions, but Izuku’s focus is narrowed to nothing but Kacchan, the sweet scent that clings to the other boy helping to distract him from the loss of control.
“Breathe, nerd,” Kacchan grumbles at him, shifting his arms to more comfortably take Izuku’s weight. There is a part of Izuku that is surprised that Kacchan has yet to drop or shove Izuku away. “Breathe.”
Oh, right. Breathing. He sucks in a deep breath, then a deeper one shortly after.
“Normally, Deku. Breathe normally.” Kacchan isn’t even trying particularly hard to sound comforting, but that's okay, he sounds like Kacchan, which is all Izuku needs right now. Familiarity.
Not the feeling of someone trying to hijack his body.
The very thought of it has him shaking all over again. That was terrifying, soul shaking, he could have died!
If it wasn’t for Kacchan…
Kacchan.
He’d been so mad about Izuku’s new quirk and wings. He must have been sticking close by to observe, because not knowing what’s going on always pisses him off like that. And yet… he’d still leapt for Izuku when his wings had locked up. He’d even used his quirk to push himself faster.
And that means something, right?
It has to mean something, right?
Even now Kacchan is letting Izuku cling to him, is helping him to his feet, is escorting him to Recovery G—
Wait.
When did they start moving?
Izuku chokes on his next inhale, and Kacchan all but yanks him into the infirmary.
“Oi!” he yells out as soon as they cross the threshold, kicking over Recovery Girl’s stool with a loud clatter when no one immediately materializes. “The nerd’s broken! Somebody fix him!”
“What awful manners!” Recovery Girl arrives from another room, shaking her head. She looks at how frazzled Izuku is, though, and leads him over to a bed to sit down. She takes his hand in hers and inspects his broken finger. “Is this what all the fuss is about? It’s certainly not as awful as last time, at least.”
Honestly, Izuku had completely forgotten about that.
“That’s not the problem, lady. The idiot can’t fly. He would’ve crashed if I hadn’t caught him,” Katsuki spits, hovering over her shoulder.
“Flying?” Recovery Girl scoffs. “He shouldn’t be flying! I told that man that Midoriya wasn’t going to be nearly ready, if he was ever going to be able at all. Nobody ever listens, do they?” She moves around the bed to get a better look at Izuku’s wings. They’re still twitching. “Now, Sonny, can you tell me what happened?”
Izuku takes in another shuddering breath. “It felt—it felt like I wasn’t the one in control. Like someone else was using my body. That’s not normal, right? That’s not how it’s supposed to feel?”
Kacchan’s brow furrows like it’s the most insane thing anyone has ever said in front of him, so Izuku’s going to assume “no.”
“No, that’s not how it’s supposed to feel. Young man,” she gestures to Kacchan, “why don’t you head back to class? I’ve got it handled here. Tell Aizawa that I’ll talk to him later, if he bothers to ask.”
Kacchan seems to deliberate before he nods, gives Izuku one last look, and storms out.
“Alright, Sonny. Let’s examine those wings and get you feeling better, eh? Then we will have a good sit down chat with Toshinori about what you are and are not allowed to do with those wings while they are still strengthening,” Recovery Girl says, her tone brooking no arguments.
Izuku sits and appreciates the quiet as she pokes and prods him; after the chaos of the class exercise, he needs this moment to quiet his racing mind. He fears disappointing All Might and Aizawa-sensei, but Recovery Girl seems deadly serious in forbidding him to fly until she has given the okay.
Frankly, Izuku is alright with that. It’ll be a long time before he’s ready to try being high above the ground again after today’s experience.
After a lecture, another round of healing, and a gummy, he is ushered out of the room. Izuku finds himself out on the campus near some trees, running his hands over his arms absent-mindedly.
A deep-seated sense of unease remains within him, even with Recovery Girl and All Might’s reassurances that they are going to figure things out and help Izuku. Yes, Izuku believes them, but they’d also said that this isn’t a normal case of late-blooming wings causing issues.
Shuddering, he blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over. Now is not the time for tears, for all he wants to have a good cry. Without warning and without his input, his wings shift, wrapping themselves around him in an approximation of a hug. He gets the impression of both comfort and apology.
He can’t stop the tears this time.
Once he’s cried himself out, he reaches out a shaking hand to run down a wing in thanks. He isn’t sure what’s going on, or how to handle the fact that his wings seem to be haunted by something. But at least it seems to have his best interests at heart. Both times it had taken over, it had been trying to save him. It hasn’t exactly been his favorite sensation, but they can work it out.
Izuku doesn’t have all the answers just yet. But even before he’d gotten his wings, he had always been determined to be a hero. And now—
And now All Might—All Might!—is in his corner, trying to train him to be strong enough for a quirk and a pair of wings, and Recovery Girl's watching out for him, and Kacchan's...Kacchan's helping somehow, too, and his new classmates are surprisingly nice, and his teacher seems to care, even if he shows it in strange ways.
So some haunted wings are nothing, really. For the first time, Izuku isn't truly alone. He has wings, and he has a quirk, and he might even have friends.
So this won’t stop him. Not even close.