Chapter Text
Over eighty percent of the world has a quirk, a trait that holds supernatural abilities. People choose to use their quirks to save others or destroy civilizations. Heroes and villains rule most of the populace, an arching war between purity and despair. To level the ongoing crisis, the worldwide government establishes a status ranking system. The highest is legendary, a hero who puts themselves in danger, no matter the cause. Lowest is ordinary, a hero who aids common folks with grounded problems. No risks required.
Quirks manifest when a person turns four years old. When they graduate from junior high, they can either live as citizens or become heroes. For the hero route, they enroll at UA High, the best educational program for quirk-enhanced students. There are others, but UA is well known for its success rate. Although eighty percent possess powers beyond reality, there is a twenty percent who are basic. Those people are quirkless. I am part of that twenty percent. Or so I thought.
~***~
Nine Years Ago
“W-Why are you picking on him? Y-You’re making him cry, guys! I-If you don’t stop, I’ll… I-I’ll… Stop you myself!”
“Hmph, like you can stop us. You’re nothing, Deku.”
I’m Izuku Midoriya. Life as a quirkless nobody is challenging. I thought that on my fourth birthday, I would manifest a quirk, just like my friends. It never happened. Mom, Dad, and my uncle believed it was a late process. On a doctor’s visit, he stated only bad news. A joint in my pinky toe was the cause.
The group of girls beating me is Asano-Chan and her posse. She’s the ring-leader, calling shots and controlling every scenario I or my friends come across. They get their quirks, yet use them for selfish needs. Asano-Chan is no exception, being the prime example of selfishness and confidence gone wrong. I curl myself into a fetal position, hearing muffled cries of the boy I’d tried to protect. Tears sting the back of my eyes.
Even as an ordinary boy, I couldn’t defend him.
They continue stomping and insulting me until a familiar voice shouts.
“Hey, Asano! Stop that!”
“Ugh, Explodie.”
“Mom said not to play rough when we’re at the playground. Do you want me to share what I’ve seen?”
“Fine, I’ll let Deku live for now.”
Asano-Chan commands her posse to end their thrashing. The boy who’d saved me is Katsuki Bakugo, Asano-Chan’s twin brother and my closest friend. I call him ‘Kacchan.’ Once they leave the playground, Kacchan bends over my lying body, his shadow creating a pleasant shade. “Are you okay, Izuku?”
“I-I’m okay, Kacchan.”
“You’re not,” he scoffs, then extends his hand. “Come on. Your mom still has the first-aid kit.”
I nod while grabbing Kacchan’s hand. He pulls me up, and I dust my t-shirt and shorts. “What happened this time?”
“Asano-Chan bullied him, and I tried preventing it.”
I lower my head, defeated in my latest attempt to defend someone. Kacchan sighs and pats my shoulder. “At least you tried. Come on, those bruises won’t heal themselves.”
Kacchan and Asano look alike, except for the gender and hair color. As well as their personalities. Kacchan is smart, generous, and an excellent listener. He understands my troubles, gives advice, and doesn’t get upset over anything. Except if Asano bothers him too much. Or if someone mocks his explosion quirk. Most see it as dangerous.
He knows the flaws behind his quirk, but Kacchan works hard to prove those people wrong. Meanwhile, Asano is the exact opposite of Kacchan. Self-absorbed, violent, and anger-prone, Asano is a walking volcano with a fuse. She also believes she’s the most beautiful girl in Musutafu. If you call someone slightly chubby beautiful. We walk all the way to my apartment home, climb the stairs onto the third floor, and knock on the door. Mom smiles at us. “How was playtime, Izuku?”
“Not good.”
Mom erases her meaningful smile and draws a concerned frown. She escorts me inside while thanking Kacchan for bringing me. He leaves, the door shuts, and Mom hurries me to the bathroom, where the first-aid kit is. “What happened?”
“Well…” I fidget with my fingers.
“Izuku,” Mom grasps my shoulder as she kneels underneath the bathroom sink, searching inside the cabinets. “You can tell me everything.”
There’s no way of ignoring Mom’s sincerity. I’d told her everything, from Asano bullying a random boy to me protecting him. She giggles, her arm grabbing the first-aid kit. “You’re as heroic as everyone believes.”
“I wasn’t heroic. They beat me up, and it hurts.”
I sniffle, an overwhelming wave of regret and pain washing over me. My attempts, dreams of becoming a hero—a symbol of peace—mean nothing to them. Mom sighs, already opening the kit and letting out the essential tools.
“It’s not how you show bravery. It’s why you’re showing it. You’d shown bravery, because you were concerned for the boy’s safety.”
“I was?”
“Through all the beating, you still protected him. Isn’t that right?”
Mom and Dad would mention my attempts as selfless and remind me not to feel bad about them. Uncle Mamoru does this, too. I smile at her statement. I shouldn’t feel too bad about my choices. Any choice can change your life. Just choose wisely.
~***~
Present Day (2107)
“Settle everyone. I have news concerning the entrance exams to UA High. Our top three are as follows… First place is Katsuki Bakugo with a near-perfect score on the mock test.”
Applause roars when Kacchan’s name is announced. He folds his gloved hands on the desk, smiling. The mock test is a walk in the park for him.
“Second place is Asano Bakugo, also with a near-perfect score.”
No one cheers for Asano as she stands up, hand pressing against her chest. “Why, thank you, sir. Alas, my destructive twin brother and I have the same scores, but I’m the superior in intelligence. I’m also gorgeous!”
Cue her wobbly cheeks and grease shining from the sunlight. Our classmates are flabbergasted by Asano’s delusional arrogance. Kacchan rolls his eyes; gladly, his head is lowered to hide it. The teacher clears his throat and announces the last student to ace the mock test.
“At third place, Izuku Midoriya.”
Silence fills the classroom. All eyes fall on me, the quirkless boy. Laughter explodes as every finger points at me.
“Deku!? He’s going to UA!?”
“That’s a death wish!”
“He’ll fail in under thirty seconds!”
Redness fills my cheeks. I hunch over my desk, embarrassed to hear their insults. The teacher orders them to end their ramblings and return to today’s homework assignment.
The bell rings, and everyone stands up to leave. I stand up, too, but a heavy hand presses down on my shoulder. All my energy withers away when my green eyes lock on Asano’s sharp red eyes. “We’re not done here, Deku. You've got the nerves to take that test. With no quirk in your disposal, there’s no way you’ll pass the exams. Death will wait for you.”
Her posse, two girls with too much makeup and flashy fashion brands, giggle behind their manicured hands.
“I-I know, b-but—”
Asano snatches a journal from my desk, waving it while a devilish smirk spreads across her inflated face. “But quirkless losers like you aren’t suited to be heroes. They’re suited to be underlings, slaves to society. A beauty like me,” Asano flicks a wrist, as if her hair is long. “Is better off being popular than a sniffling nerd.”
She moves the journal close to her mouth. A deep intake of air, and Asano’s chest puffs up. “P-Please, Asano. That’s my thirteenth edition of pro hero notes.”
I’ve been writing notes on pro heroes. Research is key, Dad said before heading to his next business trip. She doesn’t laugh, her cheeks filled with scorching flames. Her quirk, ‘Firebreather,’ shoots beams of flames out of her mouth, as a dragon does. Strange, as none of her family members have this ability. Her posse giggles louder, waiting for the big moment.
I try standing up, an attempt to snatch the journal, but Asano’s hand weighs more. Somehow, but I’ve never paid attention to my physical strength. A wave of shame and doubt tickles my stomach. Fear expands my eyes as I watch Asano pucker her lips, a tiny string of fire spilling out, almost touching the journal’s plastic cover.
“NO!”
“Asano,” a hand swipes the journal out of Asano’s hand. “The teacher won’t be pleased to see you using your quirk indoors. Remember the last time?”
Kacchan holds the journal in his hand, a scolding frown facing Asano and her friends. Whew, he saved it.
“Ugh, I remember. Don’t remind me, Explodie.”
She rolls her eyes, smoothes her spiky brown hair, and commands her posse to leave the classroom. Her heavy footsteps slightly rock the floor, desks, and chalkboard. It’s a shock for Asano’s friends not to mock her appearance. Perhaps they’re as delusional as she? Kacchan scoffs, then extends his hand, still holding my journal, to me. “Here you go, Izuku.”
“Thank you, Kacchan.”
I grab the journal, clenching it against my chest. The journals are important to me, and Kacchan knows it. Actually, I have his quirk in this edition, which is why I feel panicked when Asano almost burns it.
“Also, grads for passing the test.”
“You too.”
We walk outside the classroom, heading down the hallways, side by side. “After summer break is done, the entrance exams will begin. I feel nervous.”
“I’m concerned. Will you be alright? There’s a part where you fight robots in a model city. It requires participants to use their quirks.”
His tone makes sense. A quirkless boy of fourteen is entering an exam that requires quirks. That sounds obscure, but it’s my dream that pushes me forward. Without it, my life wouldn’t have a purpose. We exit the school and trudge to Kacchan’s house. Asano and her friends went to the mall, probably to buy more trendy brands to show off.
Kacchan pulls his spare key out of his school uniform pocket and unlocks the door. We feel a chilly breeze against our faces. Today is pretty hot, and it’ll get hotter later. Kacchan’s father, Masuro, welcomes us. “How’s school, boys?”
“Fine. Did Asano text you where she’s going?”
Masuro nods while his hands hold a newspaper over his lap. “Yes, she did. I’ll notify your mother when she returns.”
“Good.”
I follow Kacchan to his room, an area of rock n’ roll posters and a drum set near a corner. His mother urged him to take music classes, and drums were his pick. Turns out he has a hidden talent. More interesting is Kacchan’s interest in cooking. A musical and culinary genius with an explosion quirk? At least Kacchan doesn’t have an explosive temper like his sister. Well, he does, but it’s not as frequent as Asano’s.
“Are you sure you want me to sleep here?”
“For the night?” Kacchan unbuttons his uniform’s jacket.
“Yes.”
“Your dad still has his business trip, and your mom is inviting her family over.”
“Right,” I struggle to smile after listening to Kacchan.
Mom’s family is weird. How I, a socially awkward boy, come from a family of innovative people is confusing. Uncle Mamoru says his family had the weirdest moments. Drugs caused their imaginative minds to conjure the strangest scenarios. They eventually stopped, but it didn’t erase their lucid dreams of creating ideas. Ideas that range from obscured to ‘what were they thinking?’
“It’s best to rest here until tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about Asano. My parents and I will defend you.”
Even Asano’s parents are aware of her reckless behavior. The blame is placed on Mitsuki, Kacchan’s mother, for how she strains herself in favoritism. Both children are talented in their own way, but Asano—for no reason—turns into an entitled brat. The good news about her mistake is that Kacchan is well-behaved.
Dinner arrives, and Kacchan cooks a set of meat buns and curry bowls. Anything he cooks tastes amazing. Asano usually mocks them, but her parents shut her down. I guess she wants to tease Kacchan in anything he does. Afterward, I get dressed in the bathroom, then leave, but Asano stands near Kacchan’s bedroom door, a rounded shoulder leaning against its frame.
“Deku?”
“Y-Yes, Asano?” My stomach has those tingles again.
“I’m betting on your failure at the exams. Don’t you dare disappoint me.”
Despite her chubby appeal, her smirk with those puffy cheeks uneases me. She whispers about letting the window open. Pranks are another method Asano uses to mess with Kacchan and me. She marches to her pink-colored bedroom and slams the door shut. I enter Kacchan’s bedroom and see the slightly ajar window. Ants will crawl a line inside, and Kacchan will erupt upon Asano. Their fights are chaotic. I know this because I’ve been in one of their battles.
A shutter shakes my spine. Fear and the dropped temperature from the window crack are behind it. Kacchan, after brushing his teeth and barging into the bedroom, says good night to me. I unroll a sleeping bag I’d packed in my bookbag. Once snuggled underneath the polyester bag, I stare at the ceiling. A poster showing the greatest hero of all time, All-Might, smiles down. We are huge fans of him. The symbol of peace, the number one pro hero in the world.
It would be an honor to meet him in person. But without a quirk, everyone looking down at me, and my dreams not as near as I hoped, that honor won’t happen. I pull the blanket over my chest and sigh.
~***~
Alarms burst my eardrums. I cup them and sit up, eyes wide and shaking. “Kacchan! What’s happening!?”
Darkness is all I see. Eyebrows furrowing, I tilt my head. “Is it still nighttime?”
Thud-Thud-Thud
BOOOM!
I yelp, the floor bouncing from an unexpected impact. For a moment, I believe I’m still dreaming. My dream had red dots following in a straight line, marching like soldiers going into battle. One stepped out to notice me. It grew a pair of antennas. Pain itched my scalp. I’d felt an urge to scratch my hair until the pain faded. It eventually stopped, but I heard a soft voice. The voice belonged to the—
DAMMIT! NOT AGAIN!
A deep, thunderous tone jolts my nerves. Two heavier thuds rock the floor; this time, I jump a couple of inches off. When I fall on my butt, a massive roar blares throughout the darkness. “What was that?”
IZUKU? WHERE ARE YOU? IN THE BATHROOM?
The voice, though slow and monotone, sounds a lot like Kacchan’s. The thuds return, only in a rhythmic pattern. Some are closer, resulting in my struggling to maintain balance. Others are softer, meaning the thuds move away from where I am. Still confused, I remove my hands from my ears. Light flashes behind me, then an increase in warmth.
‘Where are these thuds coming from? Musutafu doesn’t have earthquakes, unless it’s from a villain with a geokinetic quirk. They feel rhythmic, yet that makes no sense.’
They return, pounding the floor hard. I wobble as I walk towards the light. Please, don’t let it lead me to Heaven. My body collides with something fluffy. I smell my shampoo. Only my pillow has that scent. “Where am I, exactly?”
I look up and gasp. The soft wall before me is a giant mountain. Not just any mountain; it’s my pillow! “Why do I have a feeling I’ll discover something extraordinary?”
“One, two, three, four, keep those legs moving, men!”
I turn right, and the direction of many voices chimes in. A quick jog around my suddenly large pillow, and I witness an unforgettable scene. My dream? Well, I’m seeing a straight line of ants marching to Kacchan’s mountain-sized nightstand. They climb it while counting to ten, then restarting from one. They are a surprise, but what surprises me is Kacchan’s room. Last night, it was a normal room. Now, it’s an entire realm where furniture is larger than mountains, islands, and states.
Skin running cold, I press my back against the pillow. How did this happen? Am I still dreaming? Yes, that’s right. I’m dreaming! The giant furniture, the thuds, Kacchan’s amplified voice. It’s all a dream. I smile a little, breathe deep, and pat my beating chest. Everything is alright.
“Who are you, soldier?”
A soldier ant, about as tall as an average man, crawls to me with a puzzled expression. “What?”
“I said, who are you?”
The fact that I’m talking to an ant is part of the dream. I open my mouth, but say nothing when I notice two threads hovering over my forehead. “What are those?”
“Those are your antennas, soldier. Like mine.”
Antennas? T-that could mean one thing.
“AHHHHH! THIS IS NOT A DREAM!”