Chapter Text
Like most things, Izuku didn’t particularly want to start his career as a vigilante. In the same way he didn’t want to go to school every day to quirkist teachers, or how he didn’t want to be the victim of bullying and assault daily, oh, and he especially didn’t want his mom to run off and abandon him.
But, there are laws and there are legalities, and in this day and age in Japan, his quirk status leaves more wiggle room than should be allowed. Because child abandonment, as horrible as it is, isn’t quite illegal when the kid is quirkless. Looked down upon? Sure. But not illegal. It’s something he’d never really understood despite how many times he’d read the laws over, but it was the harsh truth.
On the other side of that, vigilantism had a similar situation. The laws stating something along the lines of: ‘a person, or persons, who is caught practicing unauthorized quirk usage for heroic acts, disregarding self-defense, will be prosecuted and may be fined up to-‘. Yeah, yeah, blah blah, the important part there is ‘quirk usage’, and fortunately (or unfortunately) that didn’t apply to Izuku.
So yeah, shout out to the universe for throwing him that legal loophole.
But circling back to the opening statement, Izuku didn’t want to become a vigilante. Though he did technically make the decision to be one, so he can’t fully blame the universe for that one.
His day had started out simple enough, just like any other day, honestly. Wake up, look at the empty fridge, go to school, eat free lunch, get beat up by Kacchan and his buddies, go home, look at the missing furniture, cry in his room, look at the growing stack of mail sitting on floor behind the door, go on a walk to get away from everything. Okay, and maybe that’s a sad routine, but it’s his and he’s fine with that.
So that’s how it all kicked off, with Izuku walking away from his local convenience store, plastic grocery bag in hand. He hadn’t really paid much mind to the people around him as he shuffled down the sidewalk, cicadas chirping at the nearby park. Well, that was until he heard it.
“Hey!” Someone shouted from just ahead of him, a young kid and a woman being ushered quickly into the alley right beside them.
“Shut up and no one gets hurt.” The stranger had muttered while pushing the lady.
“P-please- I- I’ll give you-“
The man slapped a hand over her mouth. “I said shut up.” He reached out with his other arm and grabbed the kid's shoulder, tugging her closer to him and simultaneously shoving the adult away.
That had been enough for Izuku, he decided right before taking off as fast as possible and swinging his bag of groceries as hard as he could, catching the man straight in the side of the head. His bag hadn’t been very heavy, just a few packs of instant ramen and a small bag of rice, but it had been enough to knock the guy unconscious before he even hit the ground. He hadn’t even attempted to shout or ask the man to stop before attacking, and for that, the teen felt guilty.
The guilt had only lasted a moment though, the woman springing back up to her feet and rushing towards the other girl. “Oh, baby!” She sobs, “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”
As her voice made its way Izuku’s ears, he felt the rush of adrenaline flee his system, followed by the mother barely letting go of her kid and plowing into him with such force that he almost falls.
“Thank you!” She wails, “You saved my daughter. You’re our hero.”
Hero.
Izuku had liked the words the second they hit his ears. He was a hero.
Maybe not his mother’s hero, and maybe not Kacchans, but he was a hero nonetheless.
After that, he had returned inside to inform the shopkeeper of the unconscious man, and the woman had pleaded to buy him replacement food as his ramen noodles had been crushed, he finally left. And eventually, after a very long walk to get away from everything, he returned home to his empty house. The sound of nothing but the humming refrigerator and the ticking of his alarm clock in the bedroom greeted him.
Izuku drops his now two bags of groceries, props his back against the door, and slides down the sit on the ground. He forces himself to sift through the growing stack of mail that he’d been ignoring, the pile that stacked itself up behind his front door when the mail carrier slipped them through the slot.
One caught his eye, one letter in that oh so familiar handwriting, one he’d been wishing to see for a month now. A letter from his mom.
It had an American address in the corner, he knew because the words weren’t written in kanji, instead the English alphabet they’d been taught in grade school spelled out words he couldn’t manage to read. But he recognized his mother's name.
He’s pretty sure he’d know it no matter what language it was written in, English, Japanese, maybe Spanish. All Might spoke Spanish in a few of his more famous interviews, ones that showed him helping people in America who spoke the language. Though he didn’t understand it in the slightest, he’s still confident he’d know his mom’s name.
Because, well, she was his mom. He cared about her, and she cared about him. She cared for him despite the fact that she’d left the house for work nearly four weeks ago and just barely tucked a single sticky note into his bento before ushering him onto the train for school. A sticky note that he’d read once and thrown away in the lunchroom trash can, confident that Kacchan had written it.
But again, he knew her handwriting, and when he’d returned home that night to a stack of cash and a single debit card with a dollar amount written on the back of it, he knew the truth.
His mother cared. Even if she left him just shy of his 15th birthday.
Right?
He ever so slowly pushes the thought out of his mind, forcing himself to gather his groceries as he finally manages to get off the floor. He tosses the envelope onto the island, right smack dab in the middle of the kitchen, somewhere he couldn’t avoid forever. But for right now, at least, he’d ignore it.
Until then, though, he turns on the faucet and lets his pot fill with water, tossing the crushed noodles in as it reaches a boil on the stove. The minutes tick by slowly while he cooks the ramen, mouth downturned at the lack of seasoning. But, without a steady income, he wanted to make sure he could make his condiments and sauces last as long as possible. That wouldn’t be incredibly hard, since he really only needed to properly feed himself on weekends. You know, there's a single upside to being quirkless in this day and age, schools are required to give out free lunch to them. Something about helping ‘unfortunate’ parents. He shakes his head, dismissing the thought from his mind again, clapping his hands together in a small gratitude before digging in.
Three bites in, Izuku freezes, chopsticks paused mid-air and mouth hanging open. The noodles in front of him no longer seem appetizing, not after the tears on his cheeks drop down into the small bowl, separating the juice as he sets his utensils down on the table.
The boy can’t seem to make the sobs stop not as he realizes that he really is all alone in his last year of middle school. The year just started, so he had at least ten months before he had to make the decision of which high school to go to, and that’s only if he can stay in his school district.
He isn’t quite sure how long the rent in his apartment was paid for in advance, but he could worry about that later. As long as he can manage until July, he can get a job. He’ll be 15 then and places will have to consider him as a candidate under the quirk disabilities equality act. Sure, his wage might be lower than others, but at least it’d be a paycheck.
He just really had to hope his mom had thought about that when paying the bills.
God, the bills. Would Izuku be in charge of the water and electricity? What other necessities did they have? He’s pretty sure they rent out the washer and dryer, but he doesn’t really need those; he has a sink he could wash his uniforms in. As long as Kacchan doesn’t burn another hole in said uniform-
He stands up from his spot rather abruptly, lips pressed finely together in disgust as he moves to throw his bowl in the refrigerator, not bothering to cover it or move it into a storage container. Instead, the teen rushes to his bedroom, flicking off the only light he had on and burying himself under the covers.
And in the safety of his room, he lets himself cry. He lets the sobs escape his mouth just this once as he processes it all, allows the tears to drip down his cheeks and his nose get stuffy as he thinks of his actions leading up to now. It was probably his fault, truthfully, he was quirkless after all. He would never amount to anything, never be anyone, not as long as he was a Deku.
He would never be a hero.
At the word though, even just the thought of the word, the boy's heart skips. Despite his status, despite his abandonment, he had been someone’s hero. And he had enjoyed it too.
Izuku makes a promise to himself right then and there, two promises really. Starting tomorrow, as soon as he leaves the comfort of his childhood bedroom and treks his way toward school, he would never cry again. Tonight? Yes. But from this point forward, he would be strong, he would be someone’s hero.
That’s a promise.
.
Kacchan didn’t seem to appreciate his newfound promise, that was clear in not only his actions but his words. Clear in the way he torched his notebook and singed a hole in the uniform he had just prayed that would last. And then his mouth spit a sentence so harmful to a child, one that said to the wrong person could result in something catastrophic.
“You wanna be a hero so bad? I’ve got a time-saving idea for you.” The blond hissed, and his two friends laughed and hollered. “Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of a building.”
Izuku stood still, rooted to his spot in the classroom, listening to the words replay over and over again in his head. With a determined nod, though, he marches himself out of the building and straight towards the fountain where his notebook had landed.
“That’s not food, stupid.” He muttered as he shoved his hand down into the water, “That’s mine.”
He shakes his head side to side, curls flopping around as he runs new ideas around in his brain. Who cares what Kacchan thought? If he was going to prove his mom wrong by being a hero, there was no way he’d let some bully win either. It’s not like the things his old friend said really hurt his feelings, sure, the burns hurt, but the words? Not so much.
Izuku stands in the silence of the afternoon air, deciding that not only would he not let Kacchan’s bullying bother him, but he’d also start his hero training today. Nothing drastic, just taking a longer route home than he usually would. One that would make him travel a greater distance and climb up and down more hills. It wouldn’t do much for his stamina, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t help kickstart his journey. Maybe he could take another walk to the convenience store tonight and take a longer road there too, or it would make sense, the more he walked, the better his lungs would become.
Not that he had an issue with his lungs, but he’s pretty confident that the ache in his chest when he runs for too long isn’t the best. Besides, if he could take the long way to and from school, and then another walk or jog at night, that counts as exercise until he can get some proper equipment. Or at least it’ll help him build up a little bit of muscle so he can start a workout regimen at home.
Admittedly, he’s not paying attention to his surroundings when he hears the crash of something metal hitting the road beside him. And due to said lack of attention, he doesn’t recognize the looming evil hovering over his shoulders until it’s too late. “Don’t worry, kid.” The thing gurgles from behind him, words almost too slurred to understand. “I’m just hijacking your body, it’ll only hurt for a few seconds, and then it’ll all be over.”
It’s the moment he realizes he can’t breathe anymore that he understands ‘it’ll all be over’ means death. He can’t die. Not now. Not when he just promised himself he’d prove everyone wrong and be a hero.
“‘le’se-“ He attempts to beg, but it’s useless. As the oxygen escapes him, second after second, he closes his eyes and pleads internally.
‘Please.’ He thinks as trembling hands come up to claw at his face. ‘I’ll give anything. Just let me survive this, and I swear I’ll be the greatest hero of all time.’
His vision grows blurry the moment he tries to open his eyes, consciousness slipping away with every passing gasp for breath.
‘Please.’
.
The next thing Izuku is aware of is a rather persistent and annoying tapping on his cheek, “Hey, hey uh, hey kid.” He blinks heavy eyes open, “Oh thank goodness! Thought I'd lost you there!”
Truthfully, he was pretty sure he’d lost himself there too, but since he was clearly still alive- unless this was heaven? Actually, he's pretty sure heaven would have much less pain, and if the pounding in his head and the wheezing in his lungs were any indication, this definitely wasn't the afterlife.
“Apologies for getting you caught up in that villain attack! Mistakes like that aren't usually my style. But uh, this is a strange land to me and besides- I'm off camera!” The person is loud, voice rattling something in his chest as the man shouts.
Who was this guy anyway? Surely a hero, but the mentions of the camera was throwing the teen off. His vision was still rather blurry and he hadnt quite gotten a good look at the man yet, but something about him was just so incredibly familiar.
“Eh, I should be off. Pros arent just battling crime, theyre also battling the clock!” And its right about then that Izukus eyes open fully and the mans voice clicks into place.
“All Might!?” He yells out in shock and scrambles to get up, though the weakness in his limbs does make that rather challenging. “W-wait! Can I get an autogr-” He reaches a shaky hand out to retrieve his notebook, but pauses just short. The book is already open, spine pressed into the ground, and the giant signature of All Might spread across the two open pages.
“Make sure you treasure that! It could be a priceless family heirloom some day.” The hero nods before crouching down, “Until next time!”
Izuku doesn’t really think before moving, launching himself forward to grab at his idol. “H-hold on! I still need to ask you-“
They’re in the air in a matter of seconds, wind so ferocious that the boy is worried he’ll lose his grip. “Hey now!” All Might shouted over the air rushing around them, “Such enthusiasm is a bit much, release me!”
The man’s large hand plants itself into the teen's hair, almost trying to push him off, but not with enough force to do much harm. “I can’t! If I let go now I’ll die!”
The hero seems to come to the realization at about the same time, muttering out a word in English before taking his second arm and scooping him into a tighter hold, keeping him safe. They land on top of the nearest building, its height towering far above any others in the area. Izuku hits the ground with a thud, knees scraping against the concrete rooftop hard enough to put holes in his pants, so much for trying to repair this uniform. He expects to gather himself and find All Might doing the same, but instead the man in coughing heavily into his hand and preparing to take off again.
“Wait!” He shouts.
All Might turns around quickly, frustration in his voice. “I will not wait.”
“J-just one second. Please.” He pleads and then spits out his question before the pro could escape. “Can I be a hero? Even without a quirk?”
He looks down to his hands, wishing he could force himself to say more, but his mouth stays shut. Eyes squeezed tightly and fingers interlaced as he clenches his jaw with worry for what the hero will say.
There’s no sound, not for a long time, not as his breaths become shallow and he begs himself to not spiral into panic. “I just-“ He manages after what feels like hours, “I want to be the strongest hero. Just like y-“
“It’s not wrong to dream.” The hero- his hero- interrupts. “However, you need to be realistic, kid.”
When Izuku finally blinks open his eyes, already wet with tears, he finds the man staring at him. His expression is sad, maybe guilt, but his words still hurt the same.
“The door should be unlocked but if it’s not you can bang on it until someone lets you in.” He says, and then, without another glance, he turns and springs off the ledge and disappears into the sky.
The green headed teen stands utterly still, the breeze around him practically ice as he looks in the direction the hero disappeared in. The man is gone in seconds, leaving him completely alone on the roof, just moments after crushing his dreams.
Honestly, what did he expect? Sure, the number one hero is meant to protect and uplift people, but he was nothing more than a quirkless Deku. The hero was probably protecting him this way, it was his job after all.
Izuku finds himself dropping to the ground, already scraped knees stinging at the contact, but he can’t find the mind to care. Not when he was really alone now. First his mom, then Kacchan, and now All Might. It’s not that All Might was really there for him to start, but he was the final straw that broke the camel's back- or whatever the American saying was.
The teen ends up laying there for a while, long after the sun had set and the stars had begun to disappear behind rolling in storm clouds, just watching the sky. Running thoughts through his mind, begging himself not to cry, remembering his promise from just the night prior. As his promise bounces back and forth across his brain, he contemplates just the slightest thought of breaking said promise. It wouldn’t be hard, the statistics were in the favor of him just vanishing. No one would even bat an eye.
He slowly rises from his spot, peeling himself off the rooftop and barely stretching before padding to the edge of the roof. The green railing bites into his hips as he leans over it, chipped paint and a few metal rods being the only thing between him and a broken promise. The wind around him and the crispness of the late night, early spring air are welcoming, almost peaceful enough to drown out the sound of cars and lively hood in the streets so many stories below
It’s tempting, it really is. But Izuku would like it to be known that he’s a man of his word. And if he promised he’d be a hero, then he good and goddamn well will be.
He spins on his heels, ignoring the ache in his limbs, snatches his bag off the roof, and exits out the door and down the stairs.
He had a promise to keep after all.