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Looking to the future, there was and had only ever been one option for Mihohara Isato: to be a hero.
Ever since he could remember he had always been watching the exploits of heroes with glittering, amazed eyes. All Might bounding over in the nick of time at the slightest sniff of danger. Deku triumphing over all odds, coming out of battle with a smile.
Heroes were the best!
The most admirable profession, the single answer you could count on if you asked what someone wanted to be when they grew up. Beloved and admired, everyone in the world knowing your name…
Everything Isato was not.
Overlooked and shoved aside, people barely remembered he existed. Even Katsukkun, the one person aside from his mother who ever noticed him when he wasn’t literally right in their faces, called him “Yuu”. Ghost. A presence so faint that it was like they weren’t there at all.
But he wouldn’t give up! Not when there were posters, action figures, commercials, backpacks, TV shows, novelty ice creams all reminding him of his dream, and further proving his point.
However, as he grew up and his Quirk still refused to manifest, as people continually forgot him, as they reacted with surprise anytime that “weird, gloomy boy” was forced into their attentions, as kind people looked at him with pity, and cruel called him useless… How could someone like him be a hero?
Maybe it wasn’t that heroes had the world’s eyes trained on them. Maybe it was that people that shone brighter than the sun were the people that became heroes. Maybe Isato…he…
“What’s that weird face for, Yuu?”
“H-huh?”
Isato blinked, shaken from his thoughts. Katsukkun, over at Isato’s house after school while he waited for his dad to get off work, was glaring at him, eyes squinted in that particular way that meant Katsukkun was more curious than truly angry.
“You look like someone said they’re discontinuing all of Deku’s shitty merch. What’re you thinking about?”
Isato pursed his lips, shoulders hunching in. “N-nothing. An-and it’s not shitty! I know you have--”
He was cut off by a scoff, Katsukkun brushing back Isato’s bangs to get in his face.
“Bullshit. There’s never nothing going on in that shitstorm you call a brain. Spill.”
Isato squirmed, eyes looking everywhere but his friend in front of him, now unable to hide. Katsukkun never had thoughts like that. He always blasted through whatever stood in front of him with no care for what other people thought, gaze trained on his own dream in a doubtlessly shining future. Katsukkun could do anything.
Isato was always trailing after him. Katsukkun always turned back to look at him, something no one else had ever done, but Isato didn’t want him to turn. He wanted to be by his side, them able to look forward together and run towards their dreams.
Katsukkun could do anything, even notice a forgettable ghost like him. How could someone like that understand?
“I...I...um…” Wilting under that intense, red gaze, words died in Isato’s throat. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer.
“Katsuki-kun? Your father’s here!” his mother’s voice rang through the open doorway, tearing Katsukkun’s attention away. Isato breathed a silent sigh of relief as Katsukkun drew away and his bangs flopped back down in front of his eyes, a barrier to the things he wanted to forget.
Gathering his things, it seemed that Katsukkun had dropped the subject. Saved indeed...by a hero. Isato glanced through the doorway to the living room, catching a glimpse of Katsukkun’s dad. He knew Aizawa-san was a hero--on the first day of elementary school when he’d met Katsukkun, the other boy had smugly declared that his dad was the most awesome hero ever, even better than All Might.
Isato hadn’t believed it at the time--how could someone be cooler than All Might??? (that was before he’d heard of Deku, before he conceded that, okay, maybe there were people as cool as All Might)--but like Katsukkun’s convictions in everything else, the assertion was unshakable.
Looking at the tired man in his living room, Isato realized he didn’t even know Aizawa-san’s hero name.
It was something he wouldn’t find out until later, frantically searching through forums to find a hint about the hero Katsukkun admired above all the rest. And that was how Isato learned about underground heroes.
It hadn’t been easy to find, but there were hints. Testimonies from hostage victims posting their gratitude in appreciation threads, news articles that omitted the names of the heroes that should’ve dominated the headlines, anonymous confessions about chance encounters that changed their lives.
Aizawa-san wasn’t the kind of person that stood out, the kind of hero that had their image plastered ever kind of merchandise imaginable. And that was the point.
Maybe the world didn’t need to know the name Mihohara Isato. Maybe his debut didn’t need to be a dazzling explosion--he’d leave that to his hot-headed best friend. If nothing changed in the world, but people found their lives to be a little easier, then maybe that was the sort of hero Isato could be.
Mihohara Isato will be a hero.
Even if no one knows it.