Chapter Text
Izuku found joy in three things: Mighty Spider, the world’s most amazing hero, writing analysis of Mighty’s fights, and art. These passions coalesced into one Izuku, leading to a room covered in drawings of Spiderman and the city skyline, self-made posters next to bought ones on his wall and pinned up scraps of paper he scribbled on when he couldn’t find a notebook or sketchbook fast enough. His mother always said his brain moved to fast for the rest of him to keep up. His uncle joked that his first word was an analysis of the action movie they were watching. Izuku just kept doing what he was doing.
“Izuku, honey!” his mother called, making Izuku look up from his sketches and come face to face with the clock that read a glaring You Should’ve Been Ready Five Minutes Ago. Uh oh. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes!” Izuku lied, slamming his sketchbook closed and jumping from his seat, then quickly throwing the last of his things in his open suitcase on his bed. It was his third week at UA High School, a prestigious local school he wasn’t sure how he ever got into, but he still wasn’t used to the new schedule. He pushed down the top of his suitcase, forcing the zipper closed and praying it didn’t break as he did. Then it was grab his jacket, throw his tie around his neck, and rush out to meet his mother by the door. “Buenos dias, mama!” he chirped, kissing her on the cheek.
“Buenos dias, mi querido hijo,” his mother said, patting his face and smiling, “We gotta go!”
“I know!” Izuku said, hoisting his suitcase up and following her out of the apartment and down the stairs to their car. “Sorry for taking so long!”
“It’s okay, cariño,” his mother assured, starting the car with him in the passenger seat, suitcase stuffed in the bag, “You remember everything?”
“Yup,” Izuku said, not sure of that answer whatsoever. All he made sure to pack was his notebooks.
“Tie your tie, honey,” his mother reminded him gently. Izuku complied, buttoning his uniform jacket closed as he did. The UA uniforms were so different than his old school. Everything about UA was different, honestly. The dorms, the massive building, the strict coursework and teachers, all of it. One thing Izuku had hoped was different were the students, but the only difference was his UA classmates ignored him rather than bullied him. He’d take it, but he was still holding out hope that he’d make a friend. Or, rather, someone would make friends with him. He had no idea how to even start doing it himself.
“Alright, Izuku, we are here,” his mother said, pulling up outside of the school. “See you next weekend, work hard! Te quiero, cariño!”
“Thanks mom, I love you too,” Izuku said, giving her another kiss on the cheek before exiting the car. He rushed into the school and up to his room to drop off his suitcase, waving nervously at a few passing classmates that just ignored him or gave him curt nods. That was something, right? Maybe? Ugh, high schoolers.
Despite his best efforts, Izuku did not, in fact, make it to first period on time. He burst through the door in the most embarrassing way possible, nearly tripping over his own shoelaces and stumbling into a dark room, interrupting the video playing on screen. Every student in the class was immediately staring at him. The video paused. Oh no.
“Izuku,” said Mr. Aizawa, the frightening science teacher with a glare that could incinerate students on the spot, who also happened to be Izuku’s uncle. Not that that fact gained him any leeway whatsoever. “You’re late. That’s marks off. Now take your seat before it becomes more.”
“Yes, sir, sorry,” Izuku squeaked, keeping his head down as he scurried to his desk near the back of his class and slumped into it. The video started playing again, but Izuku could still feel stares boring into him. Maybe the floor could open up and swallow him whole, that’d be nice. Eventually, he forced himself to look up and start paying attention, but when he turned to grab his notebook from his backpack, he accidentally locked eyes with the boy in the seat next to him.
The boy who happened to be the most attractive boy he had ever seen.
Once again, oh no.
The boy had striking crimson eyes, vibrant even in the darkened room, sharp and intriguing. Everything about him was sharpened, actually, including the hardened lines of his mouth and the tousled spikes of his ashy blonde hair. He even had his right eyebrow pierced, which was the coolest thing Izuku had ever seen.
Evidently, Izuku had been staring too long, because the boy’s bored expression morphed into a snarl. Izuku startled quietly and quickly whipped his head around the face the front of the classroom again, face burning. He’d never seen that boy before. Maybe he was new? Oh no, Izuku had made a bad impression, hadn’t he? God, why did his first reaction have to be staring at him? He was such a mess. No wonder he had no friends.
That spiraled quickly.
He sighed, trying to focus on the video. It was a lecture from the famed young scientist Toga Himiko, who broke out in the realm of hematology but quickly made herself know in nearly every field. Izuku thought her theories on the multiverse were intriguing and very, very confusing.
Izuku was able to spend the rest of class focused on the lesson and avoid freaking out about the attractive new boy he had definitely messed up with. He was just hoping he didn’t get bullied at this point. But then, just before the bell rang, Uncle Shota made one last announcement.
“We’ll be doing a lab tomorrow based on what we learned today, and your partners will be the person in the seat next to you. And no, you can’t switch partners, just deal with it,” he said, “Class dismissed.”
OH NO.
Izuku glanced over at the boy next to him and was met with a bored glare, then the boy huffed and left the classroom. Izuku quickly tried to pull himself together and avoid panic, collecting his things and racing out to make sure he wasn’t late to another class. This was fine. This would be fine. It was just lab partners, nothing stressful.
Tell that to Izuku’s panicking brain. Ugh.
He made it through the rest of the day, bringing the worry down to an ignorable level by the time he got to doing his homework in his dorm room. His roommate, a boy named Shinso Hitoshi, seemed nice enough, though he didn’t talk much. He and Izuku mostly spent their time in separate silence, only exchanging greetings every once in a while.
It was dark outside by the time Izuku finally finished his homework, brightening the lights from buildings and cars outside the windows and illuminating the night life of the city. Izuku watched a group of teens running down the street, conversing loudly and cheerfully, and smiled a bit. He pulled out his phone and shot a quick text to his uncle.
Izuku’s uncle was the one who taught him to draw and paint, holding his hand when he was small and helping him trace sweeping lines across a canvas or a wall. His uncle had wanted to be an artist when he was growing up, though he changed to science and teaching around high school. But he still made time for art. Most importantly, the mural he and Izuku were painting on the abandoned train station wall. His mom didn’t know about it, of course, and the mural was Izuku’s reward for making it through UA admissions; he would’ve been too scared to apply without his uncle’s encouragement and the incentive.
His phone buzzed on his desk, his uncle inviting him to the back exit of the school. Izuku grinned and grabbed his smaller bag from under his bed, full of art supplies and a can or two of spray paint he wasn’t technically supposed to have, before giving Hitoshi a small goodbye and rushing out of the room. He made it down without seeing any teachers or students, finding Uncle Shota kneeling down in the alleyway, trying to coax the local stray cat to him. As soon as Izuku opened the door, though, the cat hissed and darted behind a dumpster.
“Damn it,” Uncle Shota said, standing up, “almost had that one.”
“Sorry, Uncle Sho,” Izuku laughed, smiling up at him.
“You’re late again, problem child,” Uncle Shota said, though he smiled back and reached out to ruffle Izuku’s hair.
“I am not,” Izuku protested, pouting, “I got down here in five minutes!”
Uncle Shota shrugged. “Alright, kiddo, let’s go. But remember-”
“I know, I know,” Izuku interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically, “I only get to do this because you’re with me, and if I ever do it alone, you’re telling mama and she’ll ground me until I’m in my grave.”
“That’s right,” Uncle Shota said, starting down the street. Izuku jogged to catch up with him, grinning and excited. He loved spending time with Uncle Shota, and one of the perks of going to UA was that he could do it even more. His mother and Uncle Shota were in-laws, but they never seemed to quite get along. Maybe it had something to do with his father’s departure, Izuku wasn’t really sure. They’d managed a united front on UA though, and now Izuku often wondered what his classmates would think if they knew the infamously scary Mr. Aizawa like Izuku did: as awesome Uncle Shota who loved colors and tried to befriend every cat he came across.
“Nihongo o renshuu shimashita ka?” Uncle Shota asked glancing over at him. Izuku’s grandparents on his father’s side were from Japan, so Uncle Shota always tried to teach him Japanese. He was already fluent in Spanish from his mother’s family.
“Hai, ojiisan,” Izuku answered, his accent much different than his Uncle’s natural one.
“Ojiisan?” his uncle repeated, incredulous, as Izuku had purposely called him grandpa instead of uncle. Izuku giggled quietly and smirked at him.
“Anata wa sofudesu,” he teased.
His uncle glared at him. “You are the worst nephew a man could ask for. I’m taking back the paints I gave you.”
“No!” Izuku protested, “Sorry Uncle Sho, sofu janai, you’re young and spry and I love you.”
“That’s better,” Uncle Sho said, “I can’t believe you think I’m old. I’m 31.”
“That’s more than double my age,” Izuku pointed out, earning another glare. He quickly turned his attention to the station as they approached, holding his arms out. “Would you look at that, we’re here!”
He took off towards it, skidding around the corner and throwing the tarp off the crates he and his uncle had left there. His uncle followed him, and they both set to work where they left off last time. Mostly, Uncle Shota helped Izuku reach higher spots or gave him pointers, seeing as this was his project. Izuku had never painted on a canvas – or in this case, wall – this big before, and at first it was daunting. But his uncle told him he just had to go for it. That’s what painting was about, big sweeping strokes you could take with courage. You never know what it’s going to look like until you create it.
“How are you adjusting to UA?” his uncle asked while he stepped back to contemplate the piece for a second.
Izuku shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess.”
“Just fine?”
Izuku sighed and sat by his uncle on the overturned crates. “I mean, it’s good! I like seeing you every day, and all the classes are interesting, so I’ve got that.”
“Any friends?” his uncle asked, though he probably knew the answer.
“No, not yet,” Izuku answered, remembering his mother’s encouragements to always say ‘yet’.
“Well, maybe you’ll make friends with your lab partner,” Uncle Shota said, “He’s a new kid too, I think. I don’t pay enough attention.”
“About that,” Izuku started nervously, “could I maybe…switch partners?”
“Why?” Uncle Shota asked suspiciously, “Did he say something to you?”
“No!” Izuku quickly denied, “It’s not him, he’s…” super hot “…he didn’t do anything. I just may have made a bad first impression.”
Uncle Shota raised an eyebrow. “What did you do, problem child?”
Izuku covered his burning face with his hands. “Uh…well…I don’t know, I kind of…stared at him way too long and I think he noticed,” he admitted, shoulders inching closer to his ears with each word. He was so embarrassing.
Uncle Shota snorted, laughing at his pain. Rude. “You got a crush, kid?”
Izuku’s face flushed even more as he squeaked, burying his face in the crook of his elbows now. “Nooooo, not like that! He’s just…cool.”
“Can’t believe my sweet nephew has a thing for bad boys,” Uncle Shota teased, “That’s the kid with the nose piercing, right?”
“Eyebrow,” Izuku corrected quietly, making his uncle laugh again. He peeked out of his arms to glare at him, though he was sure it looked more like he was pouting. “Don’t laugh at me!”
“Sorry, kiddo,” his uncle said, patting his back, “Teenager feelings are hard, huh?”
“Like you would know,” Izuku said, dropping his arms to hug his sides instead.
“Hey, I know more than you may think,” Uncle Shota said, raising an eyebrow, “This old man has had his fair share of romance.”
“You?” Izuku asked, incredulous, “Yeah, right. You’re talking about cats, aren’t you?”
His uncle glared at him. “I am talking about people. Two people, actually.”
Izuku was intrigued now. His uncle rarely talked about his past, so any bit he got was a treat. “Who?”
“My two best friends from high school,” his uncle said, smiling. But the smile was a little weighed down, his nostalgic tone tinged with a bit of sadness Izuku didn’t quite understand. “Oboro and Hizashi. The three of us were going to take on the world.”
“What happened?” Izuku asked after a pause. His uncle had never spoken like this before.
The wistful expression fell, replaced by stony nothing. “Life happened.” There was another beat of silence where Izuku waited for an explanation he didn’t receive. “But enough about my life, kid,” his uncle said, diverting the subject and smiling again, “I’m not going to change your lab partner. Go make friends with the cool bad boy.”
“What!” Izuku squeaked, “No, Uncle Sho! I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can,” his uncle said, “just be yourself.”
“That’s what got me here in the first place!”
After a bit, Izuku realized his uncle really wasn’t going to let him switch lab partners, intent on watching him suffer all through science class. Izuku was stuck as with Hot Guy Who May or May Not Think He’s Super Creepy. How great.
Eventually, Uncle Shota got a text about something he didn’t elaborate on and told Izuku it was time to go, so they covered up the paints and left the station. Izuku turned around for one last look at his work in progress. He was proud of it, maybe. It did feel a little directionless, but he was just hoping he’d figure it out along the way. You know, like one of these days it would just click, and he’d have his masterpiece. That’d be nice.
Suddenly, he felt something crawling on his arm and jolted it up just as a huge, creepy spider bit into his hand with a light pinch.
“Ack!” he shrieked, slapping the spider off. Ew, ew, ew. Darn it, that might get itchy later.
“All good, Izuku?” his uncle called.
Izuku shivered a bit, grossed out, then turned to follow Uncle Shota. “Yeah, just got scared by a spider.”
“Still scared of bugs? I thought you were 15.”
“Hey!”
Izuku woke the next morning in a split second of calm, staring at the sun coming in through the windows, and then the reality of his day came crashing down again. Cute Boy in science class. Kill him now.
He contemplated pretending to be sick but knew Uncle Shota would call bullshit, and besides, it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe the guy didn’t even remember. Or he thought it was funny. Yeah.
He sighed and forced himself out of bed, accidentally hitting his head on the bunk bed above him. Ouch. Weird, he couldn’t sit up fully on the lower bunk now. Did he get a growth spurt literally over night? Was that a thing? He only got more confused when he pulled on a pair of uniform pants and found they cut off above his ankles now, when he knew that yesterday they fit just fine.
Did puberty happen this fast? Was he going to get super tall like Uncle Shota now? Gosh, these pants were uncomfortable, he should ask his mom for new ones, maybe they can go back to that thrift store on 27th and-
He heard a creak from Hitoshi’s bed above his and suddenly realized he was mumbling again. Oops. Moving on.
He quickly finished getting dressed, grabbing breakfast from the cafeteria before heading to science class, nerves a mess in his stomach. He kept having to pull the cuffs of his pants down, and he was sure people were staring at him for it. Why did he feel like he was about to have anxiety attack at eight in the morning over a pair of pants?
Just calm down, Izuku. This is nothing.
He made it to science class on time, greeting Uncle Shota before taking his seat next to the other new boy, who ignored him. He tried to focus on his uncle going over the lab and safety procedures, because those things were important and he needed to focus, but he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing the whole time. Were his palms usually this sweaty? And his neck?
Oh no, the spider was venomous, wasn’t it. He’s dying. He’s been poisoned and he’s dying.
No, he wasn’t dying. He’d looked it up last night, obviously, and there was nothing about plain black spiders in train stations being venomous. He was fine.
This was just…puberty?
“Oi.”
The sudden voice ripped Izuku out of his head with a startled jolt and squeak, eyes wide. The boy next to him gave him a confused, judgmental look, probably cursing the gods above for seating him next to whatever the hell Izuku was right now. With one sweep around the room, Izuku realized his classmates were starting their labs. He was eighty-five percent sure he knew what was going on.
“What’s wrong with you?” the new boy suddenly asked, in an aggressive way that gave Izuku the impression this was a genuine question, the boy was just naturally terse. And what a great question it was.
“Nothing!” Izuku said, voice seconds away from cracking. Oh God. He tried his best to lower it again. “I’m Izuku Midoriya, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
The boy gave him a look, almost analytical or suspicious, and he felt like a cornered animal. “Okay,” the boy said slowly, and only then did Izuku note the slight Japanese accent. “I’m Bakugou-er, Ka-aa…” the boy cut off the correction to his first name, red eyes going a little wider as he seemed to remember something mid-sentence. “-aa…chan. Kacchan,” he finished.
Izuku blinked at him. “Your name is Kacchan?” Wrong thing to say.
The boy – Kacchan – glared at him. “That’s what I fucking said, Deku.”
“Sorry!” Izuku quickly amended, then registered what the boy had called him. “Deku? I said-”
“I know what you said,” Kacchan interrupted, “Deku and Izuku have the same kanji.”
Izuku was too nervous to ask what Deku even meant. “Oh…cool.”
“Let’s just do the damn lab,” Kacchan said, sounding entirely uninterested in the prospect. Izuku was slowly noticing more things about him. For example, he wasn’t wearing a tie and his shirt was unbuttoned a bit at the top, another thing cool people did. And he had hearing aids, black ones, in both his ears.
Why was this the most interesting person Izuku had ever met, and why did he have to screw up so fast with him?
“Okay,” he said, turning to grab the lab goggles that had been passed out earlier, then handing one pair to Kacchan. Only, when Kacchan tried to take them from him, his hand went with them.
What.
He pulled his hand back, which ended up yanking the goggles out of Kacchan’s hand.
“Sorry!” Izuku said, nervous and extremely confused. He was sweating again. “Here, let me just…” he tried to pull the goggled off his hand, but they were stuck. Did he dip his hand in glue without noticing? What the hell? “Sorry,” he mumbled again, “I don’t-what-okay, this is-” The goggles still weren’t coming off, and at this point Izuku was starting to freak out.
“Deku, chill,” Kacchan said, sounding almost like he was ordering him to do so instead of trying to calm him. Izuku did not chill. He yanked on the goggles so hard it hurt his hand, squeaking a bit in pain. “Okay, Deku, you have to-” Kacchan tried to say, but when he reached out like he was about to grab Izuku’s wrist, leaning over a bit, Izuku jolted his hand away. And right into his hair. Oops.
He tried to pull his non-goggled hand back to his chest, but the motion yanked Kacchan’s head sideways.
“Ow, what the fuck?” Kacchan snapped, and Izuku felt the ground drop out from under his feet. OH NO. He pulled on his hand again, confirming that it was in fact stuck in the other boy’s hair. He tried to get it out, but Kacchan grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “Deku, let me go,” he growled, glaring up at him.
“I’m trying!” Izuku practically wailed, completely panicking now. He tugged his hand again, making Kacchan stumble forward and slam into him, almost toppling him over.
“Fucking relax,” Kacchan hissed, his grip on Izuku’s wrist tightening. The new close proximity only made Izuku freak out more. What did he do deserve this? Was it the bug he squished in third grade? That time he called his cousin stupid? Whatever it was, he repents, please just let this end.
“Okay,” he said, breath quickening in a panic, “I’m just going to pull my hand really hard!”
“Bakayarou!” Kacchan snapped, and Izuku only knew what that meant because Uncle Shota was a road-rager.
“What is going on here?” Uncle Shota’s voice boomed from beside them as the man glared at Izuku. “Izuku, let go of him.”
“I’m trying!” Izuku said again. Kacchan was still angrily muttering a bunch of Japanese words Izuku assumed were swears, a notion only confirmed by the look on his uncle’s face when he heard them. “I think my hand is stuck!”
“I told you to fucking relax!” Kacchan growled at him. He was scary.
“I’m just going to pull!”
“Do NOT-”
Anyways, that’s how Izuku ended up on his first visit to UA’s nurse’s office. It was also his first time getting his hand shaved out of someone’s hair. And later would be his first and last time getting murdered, he was sure, based on the withering glare Kacchan was giving him.
“I am so sorry,” Izuku said for probably the billionth time.
“Shinjimae,” was how Kacchan responded, a phrase Izuku didn’t know but got the gist of. ‘Go die.’ He would love to, Kacchan.
And then he left the nurse’s office to a scene out of his nightmares, every single student in the hall whispering. Whispering so loudly. Way too loudly. He could literally feel every pair of judgmental eyes on him, making his skin crawl like his insides were trying to escape. He was sweating again. Are people’s hearts supposed to beat this fast just walking? Or at all?
Oh God, they all know. They all saw. They all know what happened. There goes being ignored. There goes no bullying. Is someone going to hit him? Is Kacchan going to hit him? It’s getting kind of hard to breathe. Why is everyone so loud? Why is his brain so loud? That person just glanced over, are they laughing at him? Of course they are. What are they saying? Is he still breathing?
He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here right now before he passes out or explodes. It’s too small, too loud, too much.
“Oi, Deku!”
Izuku racing heart stopped.
Kacchan was going to beat him up. There’s no way he could get away with something like what he just did.
Before he really knew what he was doing, he took off in a sprint down the hall, hearing Kacchan call after him a few more times. He rushed through crowds of students, knocking people into lockers without meaning to but too panicked to apologize. If he was going to get beat up, he could at least make Kacchan chase after him first.
“Stop running, dumbass!” he heard Kacchan yell, much too close behind him. Izuku needed a different plan of escape. He grabbed the first door handle he saw, ripping the door open and then slamming it shut behind him. His heart was beating so fast it was going to break through his ribs, he was sure of it.
This was so bad. So, so bad.
There was loud bang on the door and Izuku quickly turned the lock and pushed himself off, backing away from it until he ran into the desk. He put a hand out behind him to stabilize himself as he leaned further away from the door, ready for it to burst open at any second, and stayed there, frozen until the knocking shortly stopped. Some grumbling ensued, and then silence.
Izuku moved to put his ear against the door to be sure Kacchan was gone, but when he took his hand off the table an entire notebook came with it. Crap!
“Stop sticking!” He cried. He shook his hand around wildly to try and get it off, but only succeeded in ripping stuck page out and flinging the rest of the notebook across the room. Then he watched in horror as the notebook went flying onto the top of a bookshelf, hitting a trophy and sending it careening to the floor.
In a flash, Izuku dove for the falling trophy, batting it up with one hand and lunging backwards to hit it up with the other and accidently sending it towards the window. The open window. OH NO. In a moment of panic over getting expelled for destroying a teacher’s property, he dove for it again, finally catching it. He didn’t have time to celebrate, though, because he had jumped so far out and down to grab it that he was now falling out of the window.
He dropped the trophy and scrambled for something to grab onto as his red sneakers caught on the windowsill. He was hanging upside down out of a third story window. One shoe started to slip off his foot along with his sock. He was going to die.
And then his feet slipped right out of his socks, and he braced himself for impact until his bare foot scraped the wall and stuck. He is standing horizontally on a wall. Oh God.
“Please keep sticking, please keep sticking, please keep sticking,” he muttered over and over in a panic as he windmilled his arms and stumbled up, down, and sideways on the brick walls of the school building. A flock of pigeons flew straight at him from out of nowhere – because the world apparently has a vendetta against him it’s trying to check off all in one hour – making him yelp and somehow summon enough abdominal strength to get his hands on the wall too.
“Oh my God oh my God please I don’t want to die I am too young to die!” he wailed weakly, clinging to the wall and refusing to let himself look down. He managed to shuffle and scrabble his way along the wall a bit more, then faster because the pigeons were back with a vengeance. One bird went straight at his face, making him scream and accidently detach his hands, then continue his panicked momentum until he slammed right into a window, face smushed against the glass and heartbeat felt in his ears.
“My room!” he cried, pressing a hand against the glass and pushing up. Just as he’d hoped, his hand stuck, and he forced the window open, pulling his hand off with a tug and collapsing in a panting, sweaty, feathery pile on the floor. After what was probably a full ten minutes, he mustered the strength to sit up, quickly shutting the window before the pigeons got any more ideas.
What was happening to him?
Random growth spurt, sudden anxiety – way more than usual –, hands and feet sticking to stuff…oh my God.
“Oh my God,” Izuku said out loud this time. He shot up from the floor and went straight for his suitcase, opening it and having to pull his hand off of it again. He went to grab his Mighty Spider graphic novel that he always brought with him everywhere, but stopped just before he touched it. His hands were sticking to everything, and if he ripped that book he would die. He knew it by heart, anyways. “No way,” he said, looking at his hands. No way. No way!
That couldn’t be it. The spider was a normal spider. Nothing weird was going on, it was just a normal spider, he was just a normal kid, and this was really weird puberty. Puberty that made him…stick to walls. It had to be that because there was only one Mighty Spider. That’s how it works!
He needed to talk to Uncle Shota. He would know what to do.
Not taking time to brush the feathers out of his hair, readjust his clothes, or even look for shoes, he rushed out of his dorm room and sprinted for Uncle Shota’s classroom. He hardly even noticed all the weird looks he got as his bare feet slapped against the tile, flinging open the classroom door to find…not his uncle.
The woman, some random substitute he didn’t recognize, looked up upon his dramatic entrance, eyes wide. Izuku was sure he was something to look at, shirt half untucked, hair wild with pigeon feathers sticking out of it, feet bare.
“Where’s Shota Aizawa?” he asked, panting.
“Uh…,” the woman said, looking him up and down, “he had to leave for an emergency at his other job…are you okay?”
Izuku nodded half-heartedly and raced down the hall again, ignoring her calls after him and heading for the exit of the school. As soon as he got outside, he took off towards Uncle Shota’s apartment, hoping maybe he’d be there. On his way, he came across his shoes and socks that had fell out of the window after him, and he slipped them on as fast as he could before taking off running again. He even tried to call his uncle as he did, but only got voicemail.
He made it to his uncle’s apartment, scrabbling up the fire escape and trying not to touch anything with his stupid sticky hands. “Uncle Sho!” he called, pressing his face against the glass balcony sliding door and banging against it with his fist. “Uncle Sho, it’s Izuku! Are you home?” No answer except a random cat hissing at him from the window above.
“I need your help,” Izuku pleaded to the empty room behind the door, on the verge of tears. Uncle Shota wasn’t here, he couldn’t go back to school because Kacchan was there and he’d just made such a fool of himself, and he didn’t know how to even start explaining any of this to his mother.
This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t right. It was a normal spider and he’s a normal kid.
He’d just go check. Yeah, he could just go back to the mural wall and see the dead spider and know for sure that nothing was weird about it, and then Uncle Shota would eventually come back home, and they’d figure it out.
Izuku yanked his suction-cup hands off the window and slid back down to the sidewalk, taking off in a run towards the old station. As he ran down the abandoned stairway through the subway system, he pulled his phone back out of his pocket to try to call his uncle again. The phone went straight to voicemail, but Izuku decided to leave a message this time.
“Hey Uncle Sho!” he started, breathing heavily as he reached the underbelly of the empty railway, “Um…weird stuff is happening and I’m really confused and…” he heaved in another deep breath, tears pricking at his eyes as his sneakers pounded against the concrete, “I just really need someone to talk to, so-so please call me when you can. I love you.” He clicked the button to end the message, skidding around the corner and –
BOOM.
The loudest crash Izuku had ever heard slammed into his ears at the same time the wall next to him exploded, sending him flying until his back hit the lip of the train track and he collapsed onto the tracks, choking on pain. He sucked in a ragged breath, trying desperately to regain the air that had been knocked out of him as his head pounded. He could hear his blood rushing in his ringing ears, and the muffled sounds of yelling and destruction above him.
His vision slowly returned, and he craned his neck painfully to just barely make out a blur of red and blue jumping and spinning through the air, avoiding the swipes of a massive villainous creature who looked to be made of stone.
Gigantomachia, a villain notorious for directionless destruction and countless sections of cities trampled. Was Izuku in the middle of a villain attack? This was a-
LOOK OUT.
On sudden instinct, Izuku dove forward and pressed himself into the ground just as a massive chunk of wall whizzed right over his head and demolished everything behind him. Holy shit.
MOVE.
Again without thinking, he scrambled to his feet and jumped forward, taking shelter under the opposite side of the railroad divot as Gigantomachia himself was sent flying into the wall on the side he’d been seconds before. How is he still alive?
“Just give it up, villain!” a voice Izuku had only heard through recording called out from above. Mighty Spider.
“Master will get what he wants!” Gigantomachia roared back, lunging forward as Izuku curled into a ball in his weak hiding spot, heart racing. He needed to get out of here. Mighty Spider could handle anything, Izuku just needed to get out of his way.
Izuku forced in a deep breath and shoved himself off the wall, scrambling up a nearby pile of rubble to get to the upper part of the subway. He dove for a new hiding place, crouching down on the side of the hole Gigantomachia had blown through the wall. Mighty Spider and the villain had gone back through the hole to what seemed like a giant warehouse full of construction equipment. Mighty Spider was darting around the room, bouncing off walls and raining punches and kicks down on the giant.
This was so cool! Actual Mighty Spider, right there in front of him, fighting a real villain! Maybe he could talk to him, maybe he could-
LOOK OUT.
Izuku jumped up and scrambled further into the warehouse as a flying piece of construction equipment smashed into the spot he had been sitting a second before.
Maybe he should leave.
Just as he started to turn back to where he came from, away from the warehouse, a long metal scaffolding piece slammed into his side as Gigantomachia used it as a bat, forcing him to hang on to it for dear life as he hurtled through the air. Suddenly, the swing of the equipment came to an abrupt halt and Izuku’s hold was roughly dislodged. He flew back, screaming, until his back hit the floor and he carried out multiple, painful backwards somersaults – he’d never liked gymnastics – and slammed into another wall, groaning in pain as he coughed so hard he thought his lungs were trying to escape his chest.
“Ouch.”
From his upside-down angle against the wall, Izuku could tell that Mighty Spider had been the reason the metal thing he’d been holding onto had stopped so suddenly – he’d caught it. Wow. “He’s even cooler in real life,” Izuku muttered under his breath.
But now, Izuku had an issue. He’d been flung all the way to the other side of the warehouse, through a small hallway looking area, and Mighty and Gigantomachia were still duking it out between him and his exit. Maybe there was an exit on this side?
He maneuvered himself around to stumble up to his feet – much to his battered body’s dismay – putting a hand on the wall he’d slammed into for support. Except, it wasn’t a wall. It was a door. Two halves that probably fit together in the center when closed, but there was enough open space between for Izuku to fit through.
Izuku started around the corner through the door, then had to catch himself before he stepped through into absolutely nothing. “Ah!” He grabbed onto the sides of the door and yanked himself back, staring out into an expanse of gray. It was some massive room, shaped like the inner part of a cylinder, with huge metal…somethings on each side. Izuku had never seen anything like them before, shiny silver and purple and green, like alien themed rides at an amusement park or planet-destroying weapons in video games. The bottom section of the cylindrical room had large sections missing, showing right through to an area similar to the one he’d just run out of, full of scaffolding and deconstructed cranes.
“What in the-AAH!” Izuku cut himself off with a scream as an entire Gigantomachia villain smashed through the door behind him and sent him careening off the ledge, sliding down the side of cylinder towards the hole.
“No no no no no NO!” He scrabbled at the smooth surface beneath him for something to grab onto or even for his hands to stick again, but there wasn’t, and they didn’t. Because the universe hates him. He slid right off the edge of the hole as Gigantomachia smashed into the ground below, like he was on the worst water slide in existence except instead of a pool there was death.
He squeezed his eyes shut, praying in a total panic, and suddenly he was yanked to the side and flung upwards like a ragdoll. Something – someone? – caught him, and the swinging and flying finally stopped as solid ground returned beneath him. He was going to puke.
“Are you okay, young man?” a familiar voice asked, making Izuku snap his eyes open. Mighty Spider. Holy shit.
“Uh…” Izuku started, cutting himself off an ear-splitting ringing pierced through his head and filled it with static buzz. “Agh!” Mighty Spider cringed in front of him as Izuku met the eyes of his mask and suddenly the noises ceased.
You’re like me.
“You’re like me,” Mighty Spider breathed at the same time as the voice in Izuku’s head, “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“What do I do?” Izuku said, trying not to cry in front of his hero.
“I can help you,” Mighty Spider said, his tone sincere, “I’ll show you the ropes and stuff. Okay?”
“O-okay,” Izuku managed, nodding.
“Right.” Mighty Spider reached out to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder, and Izuku wasn’t quite scared enough to not fanboy over that a bit, at least internally. The was a sudden, loud jolt, and Izuku glanced up to find the strange alien disk machines starting to spin, a faint electrical buzz filling the air. “Well, I have to go destroy that,” Mighty Spider said, “and then I’ll be right back for you. Don’t move.”
“Okay,” Izuku said again, his heart starting to slow from racing. He’d be fine. Mighty Spider would fix this and help him out. He’d get to be just like his hero!
The hero in question gave him one last nod and shoulder pat, then turned and shot out a web to sling himself up towards the highest part of the cylinder room above them, sticking to it and fiddling around with something Izuku couldn’t see.
The tower of scaffolding Izuku was sitting on suddenly shook violently, and he clung to the bars to avoid getting thrown off as he watched Gigantomachia lunge up from the ground and claw Mighty Spider off the ceiling.
“Hello again, Mighty Spider,” a deep, frightening voice boomed from somewhere above. Izuku’s heart was racing again. That had to be a villain, right? Why didn’t Izuku recognize his voice? “You’re just in time for a test run,” the voice continued, “Let’s get it up and running.”
“Wait, don’t do this!” Mighty Spider yelled, clamped under Gigantomachia’s foot. The silver machines started to whir and spin faster, the entire room lighting up with bright lights from all around. What was going on? “You don’t know what it can do, you’ll kill us all!” Mighty continued. Izuku again thought he might throw up. What?
Before Izuku could even consider those implications, the jolting and shaking went suddenly smooth and near-silent. He could hear his heart thumping against his chest, once, twice, and then the world exploded into color.
Not literally, but that’s what it looked like. Every color Izuku could ever imagine burst from the silver domes in their brightest forms, glitching and weaving and swirling and making his head spin and eyes burn. He put up a hand in front of his face in attempt to not be blinded by the explosive neon rainbow cylinder forming in the large room, cringing in pain at the noises assaulting him.
It sounded like every TV show in existence mixed together with complete static, played through speakers someone smashed with a hammer then shoved directly in his ears. There were voices and music and car horns and a billion other sounds he couldn’t make out, and he clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid being overwhelmed by it all. The ground under him started to shake, lights dancing behind his closed eyes.
Then, another explosion, and Izuku was thrown backwards for the third time today, an experience he decided he really, really hated as he flew through the air and scrabbled his hands around, barely grabbing onto a small section of scaffolding and sliding down it like a panicked fireman. He squealed to a stop just before hitting the ground, palms burning and heart racing.
He cracked his eyes open to a dark room, dust and destruction all around. Above him, he could barely make out the ceiling of the cylindrical room. Something must’ve happened that destroyed the silver machines and the entire bottom floor of the white room, and now he was stuck below.
Where was Mighty?
Izuku dropped to the ground and took off running through the dusty dark, skidding to a stop when he heard labored coughing and turning a corner to find his hero laying on a pile of debris, a huge tear in his costume exposing ribs that expanded and contracted painfully. He quickly made his way over, dropping to his knees by Mighty Spider’s side.
“Are you okay?” he asked, panicked.
“All is well,” Mighty Spider answered, coughing again and waving his hand weakly in the air, “Just taking a little rest.”
“Right, okay,” Izuku said, his hands shaking as he held them out towards the man on the ground, no idea what to do. He should just trust him, he was fine…probably. “Can you get up?”
“Of course, young man,” Mighty assured, brining a hand to the wound at his side, one eye of his mask twitching, “I always get up.”
“Right,” Izuku said again, trying to smile.
“Find him,” a voice suddenly boomed from somewhere behind. The same deep, frightening voice from before. The sound made Izuku’s blood run cold.
“We don’t have much time,” Mighty Spider said, barely above a wheeze, “I need you to help me, young man.” Help him? How was Izuku supposed to help him? Suddenly, Mighty grabbed Izuku’s hand, placing something in it and closing his fist around it. “This override key is the only thing that can stop that machine you just saw. You’ll have to swing up there, use this key, push the button, and blow the whole thing up,” Mighty continued, gesturing towards the ceiling high above, “You need to hide your face. No one can know who you are, and I mean no one.”
“What?” Izuku managed, voice shaking. This was all too fast.
“If he turns the machine on again, everything you know will disappear,” Mighty warned, gripping Izuku’s shoulder, “Your family, your city, everything. Promise me you’ll do this.”
Izuku swallowed the lump in throat, forcing in a shaky breath of dusty air. “Okay,” he whispered, feeling Mighty’s grip on his shoulder relax, “I promise.”
The grip on his shoulder went completely slack as Mighty dropped his hand to his side again, letting out a breath and nodding. “Thank you. Now go.” Izuku stood nervously, sparing one last glance back at his hero on the ground. “Go,” Mighty urged, “I’ll find you.”
Izuku nodded again and took off running towards the scaffolding as footsteps approached. Mighty would come find him. They could figure it out together and stop whatever the hell was happening. It would be fine.
He repeated the assurances over and over in his head as he scrambled up the not-toppled bits of construction equipment and trying to find his way up.
“Yet another failure,” the same villain voice echoed from somewhere below, making Izuku start and duck into a shadowed corner. Through the dark and dust, he could see a huge, threatening figure with it’s back to him, dressed all in black with two other figures flanking his sides. One was a thinner man, also clad in black, with a light gray scarf piled around his neck and a yellow mask shielding his identity, arms crossed over his chest. The other was even more spindly, with a large trench coat and shaggy blue hair, almost white.
“This is taking too long, Sensei,” the light-haired man rasped, scraping at his neck.
The large figure – Sensei? – waved a hand at him. “All in due time, Tomura. For now, I have a bug to squash.” Sensei turned, lumbering out of view and making Izuku scramble to a new hiding spot to keep watching. His heart nearly dropped out of his chest when Sensei approached the injured Mighty, who still hadn’t gotten up. “Mighty Spider, we meet again.”
“All for One,” Mighty Spider responded, waving a hand about in the air like he was waving. Wait, who’s All for One? Suddenly, Sensei/All for One reached out to snatch the mask off Mighty’s face, revealing slicked back blonde hair and blue eyes. “Oh, please don’t do that,” Mighty groaned, dropping his head back to the rubble.
“So, this is what you look like,” the man with the yellow mask drawled.
Mighty ignored him, glaring at All for One instead. “If you go through with this, you’ll open a black hole under the city. You’ll destroy everything. It can’t be worth it.”
“Aren’t you tired of thinking you know everything?” the light-haired man hissed, stepping towards the hero.
“This isn’t about money, Mighty,” All for One said, “There are things more important.”
“I know what I saw in there,” Mighty responded, “I know how you’ve roped these people into helping you.” He sighed, weary and worn, and turned to the men at All for One’s side. “But it won’t work. The people you’ve lost are gone.”
The two henchmen tensed at this, and with a simple, tiny hand motion from All for One, the light-haired man shoved a hand onto Mighty Spider’s chest. And then right through it. The spot the man touched turned to dust in seconds, killing the hero before he even had a chance to cry out, and all Izuku did was watch in mute horror, clamping his hand over his mouth. Holy shit.
“Finally,” one of the villains said, though Izuku was too deep in panic to tell who. Tears pricked painfully at his eyes, the override key digging into his palms. Holy shit.
Mighty Spider was dead. Mighty Spider was gone.
All that was left was him. Him and this flash-drive between the world and them.