Chapter Text
Izuku
When I was four, I learned that all men are not created equal. While all the children around me developed superpowers, which our world calls Quirks, I remained quirkless. By the time I turned five, it became clear that something was different about me. My friends and classmates all burned bright with Quirks, but I didn’t show even a spark. This difference became the source of endless torment and isolation.
Katsuki Bakugo, who I used to call Kacchan, went from being my greatest ally to my worst tormentor. He had always been confident and strong, but his Quirk, Explosion, made him even more powerful and popular. As his Quirk developed, everyone praised his Quirk saying how strong it was and how he would make an amazing hero. His arrogance and disdain grew for those he deemed weaker, especially me.
One day, when we were playing near a river, Bakugo fell off a log into shallow water. Without thinking, I rushed to help him up, asking if he was okay. Instead of gratitude, Bakugo lashed out at me, seemingly furious that I was worried about him. Lying in the cold water with fresh bruises and throbbing ribs I couldn’t stop thinking.
Why did he look afraid of me? Is needing help so bad?
The bullying didn’t stop there. Bakugo’s aggression extended to other kids as well. He would use his Quirk to intimidate and hurt anyone who got in his way. I couldn’t stand by and watch, so I always stepped in to defend the other kids. This only made my situation worse. Bakugo saw my actions as a challenge to his authority and targeted me even more viciously. The other kids, grateful for my help but afraid of Bakugo, kept their distance, leaving me even more isolated. The teachers and school staff were worse than indifferent; they were complicit. They ignored my pleas for help and turned a blind eye to the bullying. They even encouraged it, declaring this was the right of people with strong Quirks.
One day, during recess I saw Bakugo had his ‘friends’ holding down a girl with butterfly wings so he could touch them.
There’s too many of them. I can’t distract them all.
I ran to my homeroom teacher, Mr. Sato, to report the incident. “Mr. Sato, Bakugo is hurting a girl!” I said, my voice trembling.
Mr. Sato sighed but didn’t look up from the papers on his desk. “Midoriya, you all need to toughen up. Bakugo is destined to be a great hero. Maybe you should learn from him instead of complaining.”
“But he’s hurting her,” I insisted, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Please she needs help!"
DO YOUR JOB!
Mr. Sato sighed and finally looked at me, his expression one of annoyance. “Bakugo is just showing his strength. You should be grateful to have someone like him in your class. Now, go away and stop whining before I write you up for not knowing your place.”
I went back outside and saw Bakugo and his friends laughing and mocking another kid.
Is the girl from before ok? I have to find her!
I ran around the school and eventually the sound of sobbing led me to the girl hiding in a classroom. Her crimson hair was singed at the edges and her rainbow wings trembled harder as I approached.
My blood ran cold when I saw the tear in the top of her wing.
Butterflies can’t fly with a damaged wing.
Villains
Monsters
Bakugo needs to be stopped!
They all deserve pain.
Before my anger could rage out of control, I turned my attention to the problem. As my mind raced, I remembered a documentary about butterflies I watched with my mom. I ran to the art room and gathered supplies.
It's good they don't watch me. They'd call Mom for my 'stealing'
Once I had what I needed I approached her slowly, trying not to startle her.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here to help,” I said softly, kneeling beside her. I thought of my hero, All Might and smiled brightly. “I know a way to fix your wing. It’s just like fixing a butterfly’s wing.” She looked at me with tear-filled eyes, her trust wavering but desperate for help. She slowly nodded and my smile felt a little less fake. I carefully laid out the supplies: lightweight cardstock, glue, and scissors. “This might feel weird, but it will help. I promise.” I gently held her wing, making sure not to cause any more damage. I cut a small piece of cardstock to match the shape of the tear and applied a thin layer of glue. “Tell your parents what happened ok? They should help."
As I pressed the cardstock onto her wing, I could see the relief in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“You’re welcome. Just try to rest and let it dry,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. “My name is Izuku. If anyone bothers you again, come find me. I’ll protect you.”
She gave a small smile, "Aiko." An explosion went off down the hall causing both of us to flinch, but I hugged her and promised it’d be ok. She ran off afterwards.
After that day I kept Bakugo so busy fighting and chasing me he didn’t bother anyone else. After they finished holding me as Bakugo used his explosions I laid on the ground staring at the sky.
At least I can save someone.
I don't know how long I can handle it.
The constant bullying and neglect started to make me question my worth and my dreams. I wondered why life was so unfair, why were the weak left alone and abused? The world seemed determined to crush so many children’s spirits, and I struggled to find any hope or light in my life. My sixth birthday was the first time I hid a star shaped scar from my mom so she wouldn’t worry.
How are you going to be a hero when you scar children Bakugo?
Someone needs to punish him.
I’m not enough to stop him.
What good are you?
I know but at least as long as I'm here the other kids are safer.
My mom was there for me as much as she could with the long hours she worked as a nurse but the one time she went to complain about my damaged clothes the school blamed everything on me. She was furious. I held her hand and told her it was just playing that got too rough. I calmed her down and smiled and promised her I was fine. The lie made me sick as I tried to bury my anger.
Like I begged them to attack me!
Punish them!
They don’t know better.
Weak. You should fight back!
That would only make it worse.
Pathetic.
My father was overseas in America for business, he left before I was born and I’d never heard his voice. He sent us child support checks with no return address. My mom was the light of my world and she always did everything she could to make it so I didn’t feel the lack of a parent.
Bastard.
My mom is more than enough.
Is that why you hide your injuries?
I don't want to worry her.
I buried my dark thoughts, but I always felt them on the edge of my mind. I tried to stay positive. Even as my own flame sputtered and weakened, I clung to the fires of others—the heroes who lit up a world that had left me in the dark. I found solace in the stories of all heroes, big and small. From the flashy and powerful to the quiet and strategic, each hero had a unique way of making the world a better place. I marveled at Edgeshot’s relentless drive, Best Jeanist’s calm and calculated approach, Wash’s bubbly personality all showed me that even the most unconventional heroes could make a significant impact. Lesser-known heroes worked tirelessly behind the scenes to support Limelight heroes like All Might. Their diverse abilities and unwavering dedication showed me that there were many ways to be a hero.
I devoured all the information I could find about them, from news articles to interviews and documentaries. Each hero’s journey, their struggles, and their triumphs became a part of my own dream. I imagined myself standing alongside them, contributing my own unique abilities to the cause. This collective admiration for all heroes fueled my determination to protect more, to never give up, and to never lose my smile. In their stories, I found the strength to believe that I, too, could become a hero who made a difference. Heroes come in many forms, each specializing in different aspects of heroism.
Rescue heroes like Thirteen focus on saving lives during disasters and emergencies. They are often the first on the scene, using their Quirks to protect and evacuate civilians from dangerous situations. Their bravery and quick thinking are crucial in minimizing casualties and ensuring everyone’s safety.
Support heroes play a vital role behind the scenes. They may not always be in the spotlight, but their contributions are indispensable. Heroes like Recovery Girl, who provides medical assistance, and Powerloader, who creates innovative gadgets, ensure that frontline heroes are well-equipped and cared for. Their expertise in healing, technology, and logistics allows other heroes to perform their duties more effectively.
Intelligence heroes specialize in gathering and analyzing information to outsmart villains and prevent crimes before they happen. Heroes like Sir Nighteye use their keen observational skills and strategic minds to uncover plots and track down criminals. Their work often involves meticulous planning and coordination, making them essential in maintaining law and order.
I also found hints and whispers of Underground Heroes. They avoid the media and don’t have rankings, but they protect the night for very little thanks or reward. I would stare out my window and sometimes see shadows leaping across rooftops.
Each type of hero brings something unique to the table, and together, they form a comprehensive network that keeps society safe. This diversity in heroism showed me that there are many paths to becoming a hero, and each one is valuable in its own way. But above all others?
I idolized All Might, the greatest hero of all time. I watched his first rescue countless times. The video showed him bursting onto the scene with his trademark smile, effortlessly saving over a hundred people from a collapsing building and a raging fire. Each time I watched, I felt a surge of hope and inspiration. All Might’s unwavering courage and strength, combined with his ability to save everyone with a smile, captivated me. I memorized every detail of the rescue, from the way All Might moved to the words he spoke to reassure the victims. This video became my sanctuary, a place where I could escape the harsh reality of my own life and dream of becoming a hero who could make a difference.
I gained a spark of hope when my mom told me about a doctor’s appointment she scheduled for me. She told me my father recommended this doctor if we ever needed any medical assistance and he apparently specialized in Quirks. She said they worked together before he left. My mom seemed worried, but I was so excited! In the days leading up to the appointment, I threw myself into researching Quirks. I spent hours online, reading about different types of Quirks, especially those that were invisible or manifested later in life. Stories of late bloomers gave me hope. There were cases of people who didn’t discover their Quirks until they were almost teenagers, and some Quirks were so subtle that they went unnoticed for years.
I read about Quirks that allowed people to blend into their surroundings, Quirks that only activated under specific conditions, and even Quirks that were passed down through generations but skipped a few. Each story fueled my determination. I probably had a Quirk that needed a specific activation. This doctor would find something and give me a clue of how to become a hero! The more I read, the more convinced I became that this appointment would be a turning point. I imagined the doctor discovering a hidden power within me, something unique and perfect for helping people! I clung to that hope, letting it light the way through my doubts and fears.
I remember sitting in that cold, too bright room, my legs swinging because they couldn’t reach the floor. Mom held my hand really tight, like she was scared I might disappear.
The doctor walked in holding a clipboard. He was bald and had this huge, bushy mustache that almost covered his whole mouth. His weird goggles looked like they were made from gears, and they hid his eyes completely. That made it hard to tell if he was looking at me—or looking through me.
He was short, and old, and something about him made my stomach twist.
He seems really really old.
“Mrs. Midoriya, may I speak to you outside?” my mom squeezed my hand before standing up.
Inko
I followed the doctor out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. As soon as the door closed behind us, he sighed deeply and I felt my heart drop. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Midoriya. Izuku will not develop a Quirk.” The doctor’s words were sympathetic but delivered monotone and uncaring.
I turned to him, my voice filled with desperation. “But... how is he supposed to live in this world where everyone has a Quirk if he's Quirkless?” The word burned as I spoke it.
The doctor’s tone remained detached. “I’m afraid that’s the reality we must face. Quirkless individuals often have to find ‘different’ paths in life.” I hated the way he said different, as if those paths were all dead ends.
Aren't they?
You know the numbers. You see quirkless kids all the time.
I'll protect him!
He's going to die.
NO!
“But what about his father? Hisashi has a powerful Quirk. He can breathe fire. And I have a Quirk too, even if it’s just a small one. I can attract small objects towards me. How can our son be quirkless?” I pleaded, my voice breaking.
He’s got to be good for this at least, right?
“Quirk inheritance is not always straightforward. Sometimes, children do not inherit their parents’ Quirks or any Quirk at all. It’s rare, but it happens,” the doctor replied, his voice devoid of empathy.
Tears began to fall from my eyes. “But he’s such a good boy. He dreams of becoming a hero like All Might. What do I tell him now?”
You couldn’t even give our son a Quirk huh Hisashi?
Bastard.
All that talk about strong unique genes.
The doctor remained silent for a moment before responding, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Midoriya. There’s nothing we can do. He will never be a hero.”
I thanked the doctor, my mind reeling from the conversation. As I re-entered the room, I saw Izuku’s hopeful eyes looking up at me. I forced away my anguish and found my resolve. I wiped my eyes and took his hand, determined to be there for my son.
I won’t let the world crush him. I’ll protect him alone and I’ll make sure he doesn’t feel your absence.
Izuku
My legs swung back and forth nervously. I clutched my All Might action figure tightly, hoping for good news. As I looked at the adults talking outside the window, I felt a cold chill down my spine and thought I heard someone whisper my name. I looked around but all I saw was the cold empty room.
When Mom and the doctor stepped out, I couldn’t hear anything, but my heart sank all the same. When she re-entered the room, she forced a smile, but I could see the tears in her eyes. She took my hand, and I squeezed it tightly, trying to find some comfort in her touch.
“Izuku,” the doctor began, his voice smooth and measured. “I’m afraid the results are conclusive. You don’t have a Quirk.” The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I felt my mom’s grip tighten, her hand trembling slightly. The doctor continued his explanation while gesturing to an x-ray. I couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears.
No…no it can’t be true. What about being a hero?
Bakugo was right. Useless Deku.
He glanced at me briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he quickly looked away. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to scream, to tell him the tests were wrong. I wanted to prove them wrong. All I could do was sit there, feeling helpless.
Quirkless. Not a late bloomer or an invisible Quirk that I hadn’t activated. No, I would never have a Quirk. I looked up at my mom, my eyes silently begging for a different answer, for some glimmer of hope that the doctor could be wrong.
She knelt down beside me, wrapping her arms around me. “We’ll be fine Izu.” She whispered, her voice trembling but determined. “You’ve got me and I promise I’m never going to let you down.”
The entire ride home all I could do was stare at my favorite All Might figure that I carried everywhere. My mom’s words held me back from the abyss inside me that threatened to extinguish my spirit.
Later that night, I was watching my favorite video of All Might, the Symbol of Peace, who always saves everyone with a smile. "See Mom? He saves everyone with a smile." Inspired and hopeful, I turned to my mom and asked, “Mom, do you think I can still be a hero like All Might?”
Her eyes welled up with tears, and I braced myself for the worst.
She's going to tell me no.
Give up.
There's no hope.
Weak. Useless. Deku.
The last ember of hope in my heart began to flicker out as she wrapped her arms around me.
But then, she whispered, “Yes, Izu” I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked up at her, confusion and hope battling within me.
“What? What did you say?”
“You can be anything you set your mind to,” she said, her voice steady and full of conviction. “You have the kindest heart and you never quit. You’ve got my determination and a smile as bright as my mom's was. She would have told you to follow in her footsteps and be a hero. I know that you’ll show this world they were wrong to count you out.”
My mom’s eyes blazed with determination, a fire that ignited something deep within me. My soul responded with an inferno, one that burned brightly and refused to be extinguished. That night, we ate dinner together, not in mourning of a extinguished hope, but in celebration of a reignited dream.
Late that night, Dr. Garaki closed the folder labeled Project Ascension, a satisfied chuckle escaping him as he leaned back in his chair. “It's almost time for the next stage.”
A laugh — low, amused, and coming from nowhere— rippled through the room.