Chapter Text
This was the third time in nearly three weeks he'd had to get his store window replaced. Normally one wouldn’t be on a first name basis with the guy who repairs windows. One shouldn’t be, because it would mean that someone was probably out for you if your window kept getting broken. This, however, cannot be blamed on Izuku. Unless he’d done something terrible to antagonize the universe while he was sleeping. Then he’d reluctantly take the blame for the karma in the form of broken windows. But otherwise, he should not feel bad for having to call his dear acquaintance Wataru once again for an emergency repair.
Dear Wataru, who had shown up in record time, let out a whistle at the sight of Izuku’s shattered window. “What happened this time?”
“Same thing as last time.”
“And the time before that?”
Izuku could only offer a meek sigh in response.
It had only been about an hour since Red Riot had punched some freakishly bulky villain through his store window. The window shattered on impact, letting the villain roll into Izuku’s store, unconscious. Red Riot stepped through the hole he had left and made quick work of restraining the guy. All the while, Izuku sat behind the counter, open book in his lap, eyes wide as he stared at the mess that just entered his store. Again.
“Can you fix it today?” Izuku asked in a hopeful tone.
“Yeah.” Wataru sighed. “I can fix it. I’ll go and arrange something.”
“You’re the best.”
“If you call me again within the next seven days, I’m not picking up.”
Izuku pouted and headed back into the store while Wataru got back in his car. Not his fault the heroes can’t aim for the big chain coffee shop across from his store instead for a change. He headed into the back and grabbed a broom. After walking back out, he stopped a few feet away from the open window and stared at the mess on his floor. Thank God and Izuku’s own foresight for not putting back the pretty book display after the second time the window got knocked in. It meant the glass was mostly only on the floor instead of scattered throughout his books. As he got started on making a big pile of the pieces and doing his very best at moving the bookcases to be able to reach underneath, the bell above the door jingled.
Izuku turned around, broom in one hand, big dustpan in the other. Right there, having just gently closed the door, stood the Sturdy Hero: Red Riot, looking considerably better than he did an hour ago. He seemed to be wearing regular civilian clothes, instead of his hero costume (which included half of him wearing nothing). He at least seemed uncomfortable at the sight of Izuku cleaning up the glass.
“You found the door this time?”
Red Riot’s eyes widened as he gaped at him before his face turned into some sort of sheepish grimace.
Izuku’s own mouth fell open as his words dawned on him. The broom fell to the ground as his hands came up in defense.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry, Mr Riot, sir. So sorry, I really didn’t mean that. I’m super grateful for your work,” Izuku stuttered out as he bowed, hands fiddling in front of him.
“Nah, you’re good. This is a mess,” Red Riot replied, rubbing the back of his spiky head with one hand.
“I’m sorry, oh my god. That was so rude.” Izuku continued mumbling apologies, only looking up when Red Riot stepped into his field of vision. He turned his head to look at Red Riot’s face. Which was smiling. Huh.
“Listen, I’m sorry for knocking out your, uh, your window. T’was totally not cool. I had to come back to get the name of your shop for my incident report and thought I might bring a little apology gift?”
Izuku stared at him. He probably looked so stupid, gaping at this bigshot hero standing in front of him. Then he looked down. Red Riot was holding out a pink box for him to take. Izuku quickly put down the dustpan he was still holding and gently accepted the box from the hero.
“And there’s also a form you can fill out. You can send it to my agency to get all the damage costs refunded,” he added.
Except it would probably take at least three weeks for the agency to even process his request. He had tried the other two times and had only gotten back confirmations that they were ‘looking into it’. His savings were severely suffering.
Izuku was apparently still looking at him dumbfounded, because Red Riot’s smile dropped slightly, turning into an awkward looking polite face instead.
“Well, I’ll be on my way then,” he said with a small nod.
“Wait!” Izuku yelled as Red Riot turned to walk out the door. ‘Thank you, Red Riot!. For stopping by. That’s very nice of you. And thank you for catching that villain and keeping us all safe.”
A big smile spread across Red Riot’s face again as he turned to face Izuku. “It’s my job.”
“Would you like some tea? Or coffee?” Izuku asked nervously.
This is stupid. He’s a hero. He doesn’t have time to stop for a pity-coffee here. I shouldn’t have asked.
Red Riot takes a glance at his wristwatch before looking at Izuku again, beaming.
“Yeah, I’ve got a minute!”
Izuku’s shoulders sag in relief. He would’ve never gotten over it if he’d embarrassed himself in front of the actual Red Riot.
“Coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please. I already drink enough coffee at the office, it’s terrible,” he says sheepishly.
Izuku nods quickly, smiling, and points to the corner of his shop adorned with a few comfy chairs and a coffee table. “Go ahead and sit down, I’ll be right back.”
Red Riot nods and heads over to one of the chairs, pulling out his phone. It’s only then that Izuku realizes he’s still holding the light pink box Red Riot had handed him. He rushed over to the back part of his shop where his little kitchen sat to fix up some tea for the both of them. He put down the box and opened the lid slightly, peeking inside. Immediately a sugary sweet smell hit him in the face. But like a nice, comforting hit in the face. Donuts. Red Riot had bought him sweet apology donuts. And looking at the inside of the box, Izuku realized they were from the really expensive place a few streets over. He didn’t stop the bright smile from lighting up his face.
He made quick work of the teapot. He loaded a wooden tray with the pot, two cups and two plates with each a heavenly looking donut on them. He pushed the door open with his hip, walking back into the main part of the store. After taking a moment to recollect himself - because who has a casual cup of tea with the Number Six Hero? On a Tuesday nonetheless? - Izuku headed back towards the sitting corner where he’d left Red Riot. The hero seemed to be entranced looking around at Izuku’s store.
“You really didn’t have to buy me donuts, Mr Riot, sir. You were just doing your job,” Izuku offered as he put the tray down on the coffee table.
“It’s the least I could do. This seems like a nice place,” the man replied, “You can just call me Kirishima, none of that ‘mister’ stuff. We seem like we’re the same age.”
“Oh! Thank you, Kirishima. I’m Midoriya Izuku.”
Izuku poured the tea into the cups and offered Kirishima the plate with the red donut on it, before sitting down in the chair next to him.
“Nice to meet you, Midoriya! Well, nice as far as these circumstances go. Can you still get it repaired before tonight?” Kirishima asked after taking a bite of the donut.
“Yeah, my window guy is really great. Said he’d fix it today,” Izuku replied with a smile.
“A window guy, huh? You have a regular window guy?”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened.”
Kirishima’s eyes widened as he stared at Izuku. “What do you mean?”
“I had to get it replaced last Wednesday,” Izuku muttered. “And on Sunday the week before that one. That was a hassle.”
“What happened?”
“Two more villain fights.”
“You must have really bad luck,” Kirishima offered.
“Yeah, the universe really has it out for me,” Izuku said sheepishly, taking another sip of his tea. “At least I have a trustworthy window guy.”
Kirishima laughed and put down his empty teacup.
“Well, that’s a comforting thought at least. Sorry again about breaking your window, Midoriya! And thanks for the tea, but I really have to get back to work now. I have a report to finish before my superior starts calling me about it.”
“Thank you for stopping by, Kirishima! And thank you for the donuts. And thank you for arresting that villain.” Izuku bowed after getting up from his chair.
“Yeah, it’s no problem, man!” Kirishima grinned at him. “By the way, what kind of name is ‘Deku’s Books’ anyway?”
The first time it happened, Izuku was in the back for a quick tea break. He usually opened the bookshop every day, though on Sunday it was only open from nine o’clock until twelve o’clock. It hadn’t been all that busy that particular Sunday, so at eleven thirty he decided to start cleaning up. He was just making a cup of chamomile tea to accompany him while he did some regular maintenance, like dusting the shelves and sweeping the floors. Just a regular old uneventful Sunday, the way life intended it to be. Until it wasn’t.
The teakettle started whistling the same time a loud crash echoed through the open door. Izuku’s head shot up, the rest of his body frozen in place. He could hear things falling and stumbling from the main part of the store. And then another loud crash. And then nothing.
Except of course, the sound of Izuku’s heart beating in his chest. He considered his options for a moment. What would a smart, self-aware person do in a situation like this?
Probably not walk out of the kitchen, towards the odd noises. Good thing Izuku never claimed to be smart or self-aware.
As he walked out of the door leading back to his little space behind the till, he was able to take in the sight of his bookstore. There were books scattered everywhere on the ground, topped with a layer of what must’ve been a thousand glass shards laying about. The small wooden display rack in front of the window that he’d built himself after buying the store was laying on the ground in pieces. On top of that, was a big, unconscious lizard-like man, crushing the books and wood beneath him. Izuku stared.
Then he noticed the presence next to the unconscious man. A blonde guy wearing a dark visor and black jacket adorned with golden marks over his white and gold-coloured t-shirt. Pro-Hero Chargebolt, Number Seven in the rankings . Chargebolt stood right there in his bookshop, talking to someone through his headset. Probably talking about getting this guy the hell out of here, Izuku figured.
The world around him became a little less clouded as he took a deep breath in, still standing behind the counter. Chargebolt hadn’t seen him from where he was standing beside the lizard-guy. There were a bunch of people, including some reporters, outside his store window (or the hole where it used to be), focussed on Chargebolt and the guy that just landed through Izuku’s window. Izuku blinked. Then he noticed the high-pitched whistle coming from the kitchen behind him. He turned around slowly and walked into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind him.
Okay.
Hm.
Izuku took a step towards the stove and removed the teapot from its spot, killing off the whistling sound. Alright, that’s step one, good job. He blinked at his empty hands and then looked up at the teapot again. He blinked again, as people do. Then he promptly sank to the floor.
He sat with his back to the kitchen counter, knees pulled to his chest, staring at the wall across him. This is fine. This is good. I’m all good.
It might’ve been years he spent staring at a stain on that wall, might’ve been hours, might’ve been minutes. When he managed to stand back up and slowly open the door leading to the main store, he was at least breathing somewhat normally again. When he walked into the space behind the counter, both Chargebolt and the lizard-guy were gone, and so were the reporters and gaping bystanders in front of his store. The mess wasn’t gone, however. The storefront was a pile of wood, shimmering glass and books.
Next to the till lay a business card and a folded sheet of paper.
‘Damage claim form’ it read.
‘Sorry!’ scribbled in some obnoxious yellow pen on the business card laying on top of it.
His tea was probably cold by now.
Later that day, when he was watching the news in his little apartment, he noticed a familiar street on the television. They were reporting on the fight.
There was some footage of Chargebolt fighting the lizard-man a bit further down the street before the fight moved further towards Izuku’s store. After Chargebolt chased the guy for a while longer, he sent out a large bust of electricity towards him. The lizard-man’s back straightened as his eyes rolled into his head, before closing. He fell backwards, unconscious and right through Izuku’s window. Precisely in the middle of his self made book display.
Izuku turned off the TV.
Kirishima came into the shop again the next day. The store was mostly empty, except for a teenage girl browsing through shelves and an older woman on the other side of the store. Business was usually slow between twelve and one.
Most people had told them there wasn’t a future for him in a store like this. It’s the digital age: no one wants to buy books anymore! And if they do, they don’t want cheap, scruffy second hand books (which compiled about a third of the books Izuku sold). He’d sell the store in a year, someone told him.
Izuku had ignored them, the way he hadn’t managed to ignore the people who crushed his other dream, and finished his Literature degree. He scoured the papers for days and reached out to realtors, but there weren’t a lot of buildings near him within his price range. He’d almost actually given up on his foolish dream of his cozy little bookstore, when he noticed the small building across from the coffee shop. The store was empty and a big ‘For Rent’ sign hung on the door, contact information written beneath it.
He wasted no time in calling and asking if the storespace was still available. The woman on the phone seemed to be surprised that there was even anyone who wanted to buy the space, considering it was kind of small. It did, however, come with the apartment above it, she told him. Izuku had immediately asked to meet up to discuss things, to which she had agreed. A week later everything had been sorted out. Izuku moved his things into the apartment and had gotten started on hanging up the sign, which he had made together with his mom, above the store window.
“Hey, Midoriya!” Kirishima greeted him with a smile, walking up to the counter.
“Oh, hi, Kirishima!”
He was wearing regular clothes again. Just some jeans and a yellow hoodie. Upon closer inspection, Izuku realized it was a hoodie from Chargebolt’s newest merch line. He felt somewhat betrayed by the offending yellow colour of it.
“Could you help me with something?” Kirishima interrupted his thoughts, pulling Izuku’s eyes away from the small black lightning bolt embroidered on the front of the fabric. He tilted his head, looking at Kirishima’s earnest expression.
“Sure! What’s up?”
“So, my friend’s birthday is coming up and I am so terrible at gifts. He always gets me like the most awesome, thoughtful things and I can never get anything that he actually wants,” Kirishima starts, “but he does like books! Or, I think he does. To be honest I didn’t even really consider the thought that there were any bookshops in this part of town.”
Izuku laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, well. Here I am!”
“Exactly! So it’s great! I’m just going to buy my friend the best book ever and he will love it so much.”
“Sounds like a great plan to me. Do you know the name of the book you’re looking for?”
A moment of silence fell between them. Then Kirishima raked a hand through his spiky hair.
“You see, that’s the problem, dude.”
“Oh. Well, that’s fine! What kind of books does he like?”
A longer, more uncomfortable moment of silence occurred. Kirishima blinked at him stupidly, Izuku probably not looking any more knowledgeable.
“Good ones?”
Izuku stared for a moment before bursting into half-contained giggles. “Well, that’s a lot to go off of.”
“Sorry, dude! I actually have no idea. I should really have figured that out,” Kirishima said. “Do you have some really good book I could give him? Something interesting. No romcoms or something! He’ll kick my ass if I buy him something like that. Even though I suspect he actually likes ‘em.”
“Sure, Kirishima! How about I show you some books and you can pick the one you think sounds best for your friend?”
“Man, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Pretty sure that’s your job.”
Izuku’s mom was ecstatic when he came home to tell her he had found a space for his bookstore. She was less happy to hear it included an apartment. She complained about ‘her baby’, who was technically an adult, moving out of her house, until Izuku promised to come for dinner every week.
His mom had been so happy for him, happy that he could finally fulfill his dream. She helped him pack his stuff, helped him go shopping for some new furniture. They spent a week together getting everything ready and decorating Izuku’s new apartment. Luckily, it was just a ten-minute walk from his mom’s house.
After they had put all the furniture in the storespace and Izuku had secured a delivery, they drank a cup of tea in the designated ‘cozy area’ of the store.
“Zuku, what are you naming the shop? You need to paint a sign or something, right?” his mom had asked.
Izuku had thought about the question ever since he decided he wanted to own a bookstore. After giving up on his childhood dream of becoming a hero, he had found a new future to chase. He struggled with the name for his store for a long time before coming to a conclusion that seemed to be perfect to him.
‘Deku’s Books’ is what he’d decided on. For years, ‘Deku’ had been a name used to hurt him. It was used to remind him he could never accomplish his dreams. His best friend had called him useless every day. Now, here he was. He had completed his degree and was opening up his own store. Izuku was happy. As he pondered the name, he realized ‘Deku’ didn’t only serve as a reminder of his failed dreams: it also told him he could still decide his own fate. He built his future up again, even though he was ‘Deku’.
His mother had just nodded with a smile. “Well, let’s make that sign, then!”
After what Izuku had deemed the ‘Lizard Incident’, he’d slowly gotten back into the flow of life. He’d filled out the form and sent it off, cleaned up the mess in his store and, the next day, he made a run to the hardware store. Now, Izuku wasn’t a great handyman, but he could put something together. He liked the little wooden rack he had made a year before, when he’d just moved into the store, and decided he wanted something personal again, something he had made himself.
After doing a little run for some supplies, he closed the store for the afternoon and got to work in the back. After some sweat, tears and only a little blood, he’d managed to build something that wouldn’t collapse underneath the weight of some books. He sat down with a satisfied grin on his red face afterwards, chugging the last of his cold water.
When his self-imposed break was done, Izuku moved the rack-like structure back to the front of the store and placed it in front of the newly repaired window. There were only a few books that were so destroyed he couldn’t sell them anymore, but the others that were only slightly damaged, he put up near the second-hand shelves for a discounted price.
After another hour of work, he’d made a pretty book display of his new shelf. Izuku reckoned it was even prettier than the previous one. He always liked designing the new window displays, decorating them with new releases, ‘book nooks’ and other decorations he’d made himself.
Izuku’s gorgeous display lasted a little over a week.
The second time it happened, Izuku was in his apartment. It had been nearing four in the morning, which meant Izuku was peacefully sleeping. Then it was interrupted, not so peacefully, by yelling outside. Izuku, through his sleepy haze, could only make out some deep curse words and more incoherent yelling.
He slowly sat up in his bed, knocking the sheets off of him. He stared at his bed, half-awake, not quite considering what was actually happening outside. Then the entire building seemed to shake, following a loud crash.
Before Izuku could really process whatever just happened, he was out of bed and hurrying towards his bedroom window. It was dark out. The darkness was all he could make out through the glass. The streetlights must not be working , he thought.
Izuku pondered his situation for a little. Was it the earth quaking or just his building? He hadn’t heard any screaming, except for some yelling. The yelling had subsided by then. There wasn’t any more noise, actually. Izuku figured he must’ve been half stuck in a dream. There wasn’t anything happening and nothing had happened, he convinced himself. With a sigh, Izuku turned back to his bed, shaking his head. He was about to sit back down when he heard a banging noise on the door.
That was real. Probably. But who the hell knocks on someone’s door in the middle of the night? No girl scouts, that’s for sure. Izuku got back up slowly and looked around his room thoughtfully. He grabbed the broom that was standing in the corner and opened his bedroom door, mentally preparing himself for trouble. There was more scary sounding knocking coming from downstairs.
Izuku’s apartment had kind of a weird shape. It was directly above his bookstore, meaning it was quite small. He had a bathroom, one small bedroom and a living room with a kitchen in it. Which was perfectly fine, it was just for him, anyway. There was one door that led to a staircase down into the store, but also a regular front door at the bottom of a different staircase that led to the street.
Izuku made his way through the small living room and slowly descended the stairs. The knocking had stopped for a moment before becoming louder.
Izuku took a deep breath.
He opened the door, holding the broom in his other hand in lieu of a weapon.
In front of his door stood a stressed-looking Number Fourteen Hero.
“Goodmorning,” Cellophane said.
Izuku blinked at him, dumbfounded. Whether it was at the fact that Cellophane was in front of his door or the fact that he was calling it a ‘good morning’ at four in the morning, he wasn’t sure.
“Are you the store owner of the building below this?”
Izuku nodded.
“I’m sorry for waking you up. Listen, uhm, sir. Due to an accident with a villain.. your uh.. your shop window got broken. There’s a damage claim form you can fill out when you get it repaired. There’s probably someone who does emergency repairs in the area.”
Then, in some crazy burst of absolute stupidity, Izuku pushed past Cellophane and ran out onto the street. He stood in front of his shop, gaping. . Inside the store, laying on his beautiful display rack, in which he had put hours of work, was a man completely wrapped up in tape. The window was completely shattered, some glass even scattered onto the pavement in front of the store.
Izuku was going to need a much bigger dustpan.