Chapter Text
Humans are pattern-seeking creatures.
When faced with a chaotic, uncertain world, humans would do anything and everything to make sense of what they don’t know. They will seek patterns where there are none, or conjure them up entirely, all to gain some control, however tiny or miniscule, in a world where anything and everything spins out of their control. Some might even double down on their beliefs, or biases, in a desperate bid to make sense of a world that seems to go against their fundamental existence.
Even fewer would do the one thing that would actually help them navigate and thrive in a world that is never the same for long periods of time.
Adapting.
Adapting is, arguably, one of the most difficult things a person could do.
Again, the ingrained system of seeking patterns and doubling down on one’s beliefs or biases serve to act as the shackles holding most people back from adapting. Some might perceive adapting as betraying everything they held dear to them, their beliefs or way of living. Some are fearful of what adapting would mean for their lives. And some just refuse to do it, due to their own biases or inability to see beyond what they know or want to know.
But for some people, adapting is the only way to survive.
No matter how difficult and painful adapting is, it is the only way for some to get back on their feet and try to live for another day.
Midoriya Izuku knows this all too well, for he was confronted by this dilemma by a fateful encounter.
“You need to be realistic. Being a hero without a quirk is simply too dangerous. So no, I cannot say that you can become a hero without a quirk.”
Izuku could’ve gone down many different spirals. Stubbornly held on to his beliefs, bargained and negotiated to see patterns that are not there, or just… gave up , like so many people in his life had said, or beaten, into him.
But he didn’t.
To be fair, he did spend the next two days since that fateful encounter with All Might almost in a trance, simply moving through the motions without any conscious thought or feeling. Perhaps this is his body’s way of ensuring that he didn’t just cease to exist, keeping all but the most important functions going in order to keep living. But truly, what was living when the one thing keeping him going is all but gone?
Then, come Sunday, something changes.
At the table, his mother breaks the silence.
“Izuku…can we talk?”
He looks up, merely nodding.
“I…I have to apologise to you,” she says quietly, “I haven’t been the best mother to you for so long. I…I know of what’s been going on at your school. And, I should’ve done something earlier. I should’ve supported you, shown that you aren’t alone, and that, at the very least, you have someone on your side. I’m…so sorry, Izuku.”
At this, things began to shift.
Izuku remembered the last time his mother apologised to him in such a manner, in the aftermath of him being diagnosed as quirkless, and him asking tearfully, as an All Might video played in the background, whether he could still be a hero even without a quirk. His mother, then, had just burst into tears herself, and apologised profusely over and over.
Now, this one is different. Despite the current state he is in, even Izuku could tell that this apology was not one borne from uncertainty and grief, but one where his mother acknowledged her admitted failures and shortcomings. Even though this didn’t outright dissipate the fog in his head, Izuku does sit up slightly.
“I’m determined to make it up to you,” his mother continues, “I need to pick up the ball, so to speak, and be the mother that you deserve and need. As such, I’m pulling you out of Aldera, and setting you up for online courses.”
Izuku, in any other circumstances, would’ve been stunned, and maybe even protested such a decision. Instead, he just stays quiet, nodding at her to continue.
“I have my suspicions that the teachers are deliberately sabotaging your grades, and I will not stand by and let my only son have his prospects destroyed by authority figures blinded by their bigotry and biases. And, perhaps this is the most important thing to ask, but what do you want to do?”
Izuku stills, his chopsticks slowly being placed onto the table.
“You need to be realistic.”
“ - I cannot say that you can become a hero without a quirk.”
“...I don’t know.”
His mother doesn’t judge, nor comment. She reaches over, squeezing his hand gently.
“I’ve seen your notebooks, the ones where you wrote extensively within them. Maybe, we can find something that can be of use to your skills?”
Izuku slowly meets her eyes, “...I don’t know. Is there…anything even like that out there?”
“We won’t know unless we start looking,” she replies, never breaking eye-contact, “But, I’ll be with you throughout. And,” she shrugs, “we have all the time in the world anyways.”
Izuku, truthfully, isn’t so sure. But his mother’s reassuring smile, despite the weariness in her eyes, is all the push he needed to nod.
At the very least, he isn’t alone.
To Be Continued.