Chapter Text
Ghosts posed quite the conundrum in a world filled with quirks.
Since the dawn of humans, people have tried to conceptualise what happened after death. Some societies came up with ghosts. When a person passed on, they stayed tethered to the earth, in a form invisible, intangible to those who breathed.
Throughout the ages, the belief in ghosts dwindled. Many have thrown ghosts in the corner full of other supernatural beings. Those that humanity has come up with, but that have no proof of existence.
With the appearance of quirks – superpowers once unreachable by man – ghosts were forgotten. They existed in media, as fictional concepts used for storytelling. However, their impact on society has been widely ignored, with the dominant focus being on quirks.
Propositions for the afterlife have changed, after all, it was much too complex for simple, fictional creatures.
Nobody believed in the supernatural. Nobody believed in ghosts.
Except for the Midoriya family.
Inko has always known there was something wrong with her Izuku. Since he was a baby, his behaviour wasn’t that of a normal newborn. When she would lay him down to play, he would reach out his hands this way and that. Sometimes, he reached for Inko, which she delighted in. Sometimes he grabbed at thin air.
At night, when Inko laid in her bed, vigilant, Izuku would cry. She would stand up, begin her trip to his room, yet, before she made it, he would stop crying. Inko would still check on him, but her baby was already back asleep.
These weren’t enough for Inko to truly worry, she just saw them as weird behaviourisms. She’d frequently share these little moments with her dear friend, Bakugou Mitsuki. The other woman found it humorous, so Inko followed her lead.
Inko was proud of her little Izuku, he began speaking much faster than his peers. It was a curious development, yet nothing concerning. However, with his mastery of language, Izuku has begun speaking to himself a lot. Or, rather, speaking to thin air.
She would hear him having full conversations with somebody that didn’t exist. There would be full pauses in his speech, as if another person was responding. It wasn’t akin to a child creating stories in his head, so Inko grew stressed.
Mitsuki was also quite perplexed by this revelation. They sat down once, to think the situation through properly. The best explanation they came up with was imaginary friends. Even though Izuku would have conversations about things Inko knew he didn’t previously know about.
Izuku, eventually, started learning how to read and write. This skill, as the one previous, he also caught onto pretty fast. Inko would get reports of his brilliance from teachers. She could leave him alone to do his homework, and he would get full marks.
In fact, he excelled so far ahead of his peers. Izuku knew how to write words he has never learned. Grammar his teachers haven’t yet even gone over. Inko debated whether he has learned it on the internet. But, she knew, she knew for a fact, that the only thing Izuku watched online were heroes.
At that point, she has truly begun to panic. She didn’t know as much about her own son as she thought she did. Her son, who knew things ahead of being told about them, and who spoke to imaginary people.
It terrified her.
Was there something wrong with her son? Did she do something wrong? She asked Mitsuki, the woman who has kept her sane all these years. Maybe Izuku had a sentient quirk? Inko could feel some weight of her worry slip away.
Thus, Inko decided to take her son to a Quirk specialist, hoping for some answers. Izuku, for his part, was excited. He was so happy when his friend got his quirk, they have bonded over being heroes since the two could talk. So, it only makes sense that the boy would be beyond stoked to hear about his own quirk.
They both had their hopes crushed that day.
Izuku had cried the rest of that day, choking through his tears as he got some food down at dinner. Inko saw how her son’s hopes and dreams of being a hero were ruined, buried in the dirt of being diagnosed quirkless.
Inko herself was stumped. Her theory of Izuku’s weird behaviour was completely disproved. It was nigh impossible for the boy to have a quirk with that additional joint. Her paranoia came back full force. What could she do now? She couldn’t help her kid if she didn’t know what the problem was.
More years went by, and Izuku displayed more weird behaviour. When he entered school, she knew he wasn’t being treated the best by his peers. Quirkless people never were. His teachers reported his lack of friends to her, as well. But Izuku always came back content, saying he hung out with his friends. She was glad he had somebody, she just didn’t know who, and that bothered her.
When she finally got the courage to ask her son about these supposed friends, a six-year-old Izuku said they were ghosts. Inko’s heart almost gave out at this revelation. She couldn’t deny it didn’t cross her mind, in her years of paranoia, but she found it hard to believe.
In the following months, Inko put all her efforts into getting her boy some help. She contacted child psychologists and psychiatrists. Explained to them that her son is experiencing hallucinations. Why hasn’t she thought of that earlier? Well, it was a harrowing thought for a mother.
They performed all manners of tests on him. From brain scans to simple questionnaires. In the end, they vaguely landed on psychosis. Nobody could decide on anything specific; none of his symptoms seemed to align with what they had at their disposal.
Izuku was not dealing with it all well. The boy was always scared of hospitals and the such, saying there were a lot of distressed ghosts there. Adding all the invasive questions and procedures, he seemed shaken whenever they came back home.
Inko felt horrible. It was because of her that her son had to go through all this hassle. And the boy was only six. The only thing that kept her going was the thought that this was helping him. She would hug her son and cry with him at night, seeing his distress.
She thought it finally ended when they prescribed him medication. Izuku was very against it, saying it’s just ghosts and he wouldn’t stop seeing them. But upon his mother’s insistence, he caved. He saw his mother cry, wanting what’s best for him, and he caved. But it only made things worse.
It didn’t help him at all with the hallucinations. He would still see his ghosts. But he got physically unwell, too. They both knew the medication might have side effects, but there was no promised improvement coming, either. Even the next few medications they trialled saw no improvements.
Inko gave up after the fourth one.
Her seven-year-old son came to her, after having laid in bed with a migraine for two days, tears in his eyes, begging her to stop giving him the pills. He sobbed, promising to never talk to ghosts again, that he would stop being weird for her. She hugged him, cried with him, as her kid told her that he never meant to worry her, that he never wanted to be that way.
That day, Inko realised she failed Izuku as a mother. She realised that, all these years, she let her paranoia stop her from caring for her son the way she was supposed to. Her son, a seven-year-old, was begging her, sobbing, telling her he was sorry he was born this way.
She tried to comfort Izuku the best she could, through her own sorrowful tears of guilt. Inko told him that she was sorry. She was sorry for how she treated him. Promised him she would do better. She told him he doesn’t have to stop just because of her. She told him he didn’t do anything wrong, and that he never could.
That day, Inko also realised that ghosts were, in fact, real. Izuku, her son, has actually been seeing ghosts from the day he was born. She still felt the paranoia, ghosts being real wasn’t a pleasant thought for her, but she would do anything to make sure Izuku never felt ashamed around her. She would hide her fear for his sake.
After they have calmed down, Inko made them both tea, promising Izuku that he didn’t have to take the medicine any more, and that she wouldn’t force him into more tests. She gave him some ice cream – his favourite flavour – and asked him about the ghosts he talked to.
He seemed to perk up at the request, even though he still looked really shaken and uncertain. Those weren’t emotions one should have to see on a seven-year-old kid. And Inko practically forced those emotions onto him.
Ghost after ghost, Izuku started to brighten up. He shared stories of his friends at the playground, as well as the nice teens and adults that helped him study. This did, definitely, explain how Izuku learned so fast, although she knew her kid was a smart one, as well. Extra help did go a long way.
Before she sent him to bed that night, she hesitantly told him to keep his ability to speak to ghosts hidden. She didn’t want to make him feel worse, especially as she saw his small smile fall slightly. But she knew this could be dangerous for him. He was already being othered for not having a quirk, and some teachers have been coming to her with concerns over his mental well-being.
He was a kid, so it was easier for her to tell people her son simply had imaginary friends. It was more socially acceptable for a kid to have imaginary friends than a kid who could see and talk to ghosts. And she knew it would make it difficult for him to make friends, but he didn’t need life-time friends yet – like she has in Mitsuki. She didn’t want ghosts to ruin her son’s chance at getting real friends.
Izuku hesitated, but he nodded, promising not to tell anyone, to hide his ability when he was in public. It hurt him, she could see that, but she knew it was for the best.
Izuku has been able to see ghosts since he was born. They told him as such, since he couldn’t remember that far back. It was a normal part of life for him.
Despite their slightly different appearance to humans – they had an aura around them, like a flame that warps its surrounding – Izuku was unable to differentiate them. As a child, he simply thought everyone was able to see these ghosts that he didn’t know were ghosts.
He was very young when he first realised they were not visible to others. He was watching some hero cartoon with Kacchan, when a ghost sat beside them in the living room. Izuku remembered how Kacchan was utterly confused at him waving at nobody.
The ghost was Yamaguchi Kiyoko. A nice, older lady who lived in the apartment some time before the Midoriyas. It was an important place for her, as she shared it with her daughter after her husband passed away, so she stayed there even after death.
Other ghosts have visited their house, of course. How could they not once they heard of a child that can see them. He must have been quite the spectacle for them. That was, however, before he was able to establish boundaries, although most ghosts were nice, and stopped assholes from intruding.
Some of his most memorable guests were a group of dead physicists. People do not stop being curious, even after death. They were intrigued, asking question after question. Izuku couldn’t give answers to them, being much too young and stupid.
They came back, years later, and even shared some scientific knowledge with him. Many other well-studied ghosts came to see Izuku, a fact that was very beneficial to his grades. It made Izuku curious about the world, excited to learn.
He was eager to listen. The ghosts were quick to realise this. He made so many friends, met so many cool, interesting people. People from eras long gone, civilisations gone to time. Scientists, artists, travellers. And other children, who were like him.
Once his mother showed her dislike of ghosts, Izuku had to say goodbye to many of his friends. Ghosts often stayed tethered to places, or people important to them. He couldn’t speak to them any more, unless Izuku was definitely sure that no other living person was around.
He did it, mostly, because he didn’t want those pills again. When he was young, at least, nowadays, he did it because his mother was right. People did tend to stare at him funny when he talked to, what they perceived as, thin air.
Inside the comfort of his own home, he could talk to anybody he wanted. Albeit, he tried not to do so around his mother. He was aware how paranoid she was, with the knowledge that people who she couldn’t see were in her house.
Izuku could spend hours listening to Yamaguchi. She was a very wise woman, and had many stories from her long life. When Izuku was seeing doctor after doctor, Yamaguchi became a steady presence.
She would sing him to sleep, sit by him when he had a migraine. She even accompanied him to his appointments, although she never left the house otherwise. Quickly, she became a grandmotherly figure for Izuku.
Miyamoto Yuki was a later addition to their household. She appeared when Izuku was nine, having heard of the boy who could see ghosts on one of her travels. Yuki has stayed with them, quickly developing a sibling bond with Izuku.
She died when she was eighteen, before the first quirk was born. She had dyed, blue hair, and described her style as decora – even though her outfit lacked the accessories, which she often lamented about.
Yuki died in a plane crash, which she liked to brag and laugh about. Many ghosts exhibited similar behaviours. Older ghosts have had a long time to process the trauma of their death, leaving them with a story to tell.
Izuku was lucky to have someone like Yuki around. Having an older sister, in a world that hated Izuku, was like a breath of fresh air. She made him laugh, when the doom and gloom of his life got to him.
He appreciated her company so much. She would follow him to school, or to the store. She didn’t care if he didn’t speak to her, she understood. The stress was at least bearable, whenever she was around.
Sadly, it being bearable, didn’t make it pleasant. Izuku still had to go to school full of people that hated him. He would walk through the halls, his peers either ignoring him, or sneering, some trying to trip him up.
When he would walk into the classroom, he would be called out for being late by the teacher, even though he always arrived early. Some days, his desk would be covered in insults. Sometimes, he would be able to find a spider lily or two.
His classmates would throw pencils and insults at him. They also liked to steal his notes, usually just to bin or ruin them. On some occasions, when the teacher was particularly cruel, the students were allowed to use their quirks.
Izuku was tired of it, so he kept his head down. If he was feeling particularly brave that day, he would retaliate, but he only even gave it his all when somebody else was being picked on.
Yuki, on the other hand, would show her anger, usually by throwing an insult or the middle finger. The quirkless forums he frequented had much of the same reactions. Both anger and resignation. Bullying was a part of their life, but so was the righteous anger.
As he sat in his chair, Yuki stood beside him. She looked over his shoulder at his notes, which were all over the place. Some were about the lesson, some about heroes – especially Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods whom he caught that morning. Interspersed amongst the notes were random doodles.
Izuku was dreading the last bell. Due to their home-room teacher deciding to be mean, the whole class knew of Izuku’s plans of applying to UA. Kacchan, therefore, was also privy to the information.
After the show he put on in class, Kacchan was likely to have another outburst before the end of the day. Yuki could feel his anxious energy, and in turn, he could feel Yuki’s own. Kacchan wasn’t one to do anything drastic, but anything from his once-best friend hurt.
Once everyone left the classroom, Izuku was left behind with Kacchan and two of his lackeys. Izuku didn’t care to remember their names, and he knew neither did Kacchan. They walked up to his desk, making Yuki bare her teeth at them, though they couldn’t see.
“Safe to say,” Kacchan began, snatching Izuku’s notebook, “You won’t need this shit in the future.”
As he spoke, he positioned the book in-between his palms. Izuku couldn’t look away as sparks flew, and smoke rose from the paper pages. He had no time to react, before Kacchan threw the smoking notebook out of the window. His lackeys laughed.
“You won’t be applying to UA, after all,” Kacchan said, leaning dangerously close to Izuku’s face.
Izuku’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. A delayed reaction to his notebook being destroyed. Yuki was seething beside him, jaw clenched, fists shaking at her sides. Izuku began feeling an itch of irritation at Kacchan’s words.
“A useless Deku like you won’t be ruining my chances at being the first from this shithole to get into UA,” Kacchan ground out angrily, gripping Izuku’s shoulder, “Ya hear me?”
The irritation further burrowed its way into Izuku’s being. His eyes furrowed with how much he wanted to push back with the same force. He knew how much he wanted this to be a back-and-forth, yet, truthfully, he was scared.
The lackeys laughed again, at his silence, his cowardice. Kacchan scrunched his face up. He took Izuku’s silence as acceptance, or the fear that it was. He took his hand away, and turned his back to Izuku, making his way to the door.
“If you want to be a hero that bad,” Kacchan hesitated before the door, “Hope for a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof.”
Izuku was alone again. Left staring at the closed door, wishing for a different outcome. Yuki sighed beside him, letting out her anger. Only then, did Izuku notice that the shoulder of his uniform was slightly singed.
“If only he was right,” he whispered.
Yuki scrunched up her eyebrows, but didn’t comment. He sluggishly grabbed his bag and left the classroom. He had to find his notebook, it was quite special to him. Hero Analysis For the Future #13.
As he walked, he thought about Kacchan’s words. They weren’t hurtful, they just mirrored his own hopes. If only it was as easy as reincarnation. But Izuku knew a ghostly life awaited him, with the same thoughts and feelings.
Once outside, it wasn’t hard to find the notebook. It landed in a pond. Izuku hoped the notebook didn’t hit any of the fish. It was slightly singed on the outside, but everything inside was still legible, but if not a little wet.
Izuku sighed. A sad yet relieved sound. Kacchan could have done much more damage to the notebook. Whether he held back, or simply didn’t care enough, Izuku found himself thankful.
A cynical thought popped into his head, then, “He should be careful how he speaks. If I actually jumped he could be charged with something.”
Yuki grabbed onto his hand and squeezed, a comforting pressure. Izuku let himself squeeze back, knowing the school grounds were bound to be empty at that point.
He knew Yuki was worried, especially with how flippantly he spoke of the topic. It was nice, however, to just stand beside her, in silence. Her presence helped him think clearer, which was much more helpful than her trying to say anything.
They began walking home, side by side, but no longer holding hands. Izuku calmed down significantly by the time they reached the tunnel. Enough to be ready to start a light conversation with Yuki.
Before he was able to, however, he heard a rattling from behind. Or maybe below. He looked back, just as Yuki also noticed something amiss. Suddenly, a manhole cover flew into the sky, and out from the sewers spewed out a fountain of sewage.
Instead of settling, the sewage took form, and two eyes made eye contact with Izuku’s wide ones. He began taking steps back, all the while fighting against his stiff muscles. The sludge made its way towards him, much too fast for Izuku to get away.
Yuki shouted, the sludge said something, but all Izuku could feel was cold surrounding him. His lungs very quickly went from hyperventilating to being filled with a substance that definitely shouldn’t be there.
His eyes slammed shut. Clawed hands trying to find purchase, but the sludge refused to provide a grip.
He was being suffocated.
He was drowning.
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
The world started to fade, but right before he lost consciousness he heard, faintly, “I am here.”
He always thought meeting All Might would be...different.
All it took was one question. Just one question to have his hopes and dreams crushed.
Worst of all, deep inside, Izuku knew All Might was correct. Without a quirk, Izuku had no chance of standing against a villain. There was a reason, after all, why no pro hero on the planet was quirkless.
For the second time that day, Izuku was left staring at a closed door, only thought on his mind being whether jumping was actually the solution.
Nobody believed in him. And they were all right.
The doctor.
His mother.
Kacchan.
All Might.
Izuku was selfish in thinking he would be the first quirkless to become a hero. Not for the first time, he debated giving up. Except, it has never truly been this tempting before. His eyes moved towards the edge of the roof.
The morbid hilarity of a pro hero leaving a quirkless teen on a rooftop, alone, hit him. But it wasn’t the time. Not for Izuku, not yet.
Yuki walked up to him, bumped her shoulder into his and interlocked their arms. She was smiling. It was a soft upturn of her lips, it held comfort, hope, and a promise. It made Izuku want to smile back, so he did.
“Come on,” she said quietly, “We’re already late.”
They made their way down the winding staircase of the tall building. Perfect height to let Izuku think for a bit. About a change of career paths. What to tell his mother once he sees her next.
“What would I do, if I can’t be a pro hero?” Izuku asked the air more than Yuki.
“I think you would find a way to be a hero,” she replied anyway, “You might not be a pro. But there’s other avenues. You would find a way, I imagine.”
Could he become a vigilante? A hero illegal in the eye of the law. If Izuku found himself desperate enough, maybe he could consider that path. Currently, he needed to rest. Get home and rest.
After he made a fool of himself, that is. As they walked down the pavement, an explosion made them halt. Izuku forgot about everything else, and booked it towards where he heard the commotion.
It looked like an oil spill, fire everywhere. Heroes herding civilians away. And in the middle was Kacchan. Struggling for breath just like Izuku had been, not even an hour prior. The sludge, that villain, was somehow able to escape All Might’s clutches.
Before he thought anything through, Izuku ran in. Weaving through the civilians, dodging the heroes. As soon as he locked eyes with Kacchan, he knew. He knew what he had to do.
Kacchan was too important to him. They were friends once, and Izuku still admired the other, even if Kacchan found him deplorable. He still remembered the pain, the feeling of air being replaced with fluid. Izuku couldn’t let his friend experience that, too.
He could feel Yuki trying to grab at him, trying to pull him back. They both knew the effort was futile. She was shouting something at him, but all Izuku could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, his raspy breaths as his body strained to move faster.
Izuku couldn’t regret what he did. Even as Yuki held onto him for dear life. Even as Kacchan refused the notion of needing help from a Deku. Even as the heroes lectured him, told him off for his recklessness.
The irritation came back again. The heroes didn’t do anything. There were so many of them, but all they did was crowd control. Waiting for somebody else, more suited for saving a life. And one did come. All Might eventually appeared, and saved Kacchan from the sludge.
Kacchan was being looked over by medics, while the heroes were talking to the news reporters. Izuku saw his opportunity to leave, so he took it. The day kept getting worse and worse, and Izuku just wanted the comfort of his own bed, and a shower.
“See,” Yuki said, “You’d find a way to be a hero on your own.”
As encouraging as the words were, Yuki couldn’t hide the stress from her voice. Her nerves were frayed, after all that she had to experience Izuku go through and do. Yet she still found the energy to reassure him.
Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to respond. Yuki understood, though. They’ve done this song and dance before.
They were so close to their house, only a neighbourhood away. When, suddenly, Kacchan ran up to them. He was breathing heavily, probably having ran all the way from the scene. He looked...worse for wear, but Izuku surely wasn’t much better.
“Don’t think I needed to be saved by a quirkless loser like you!” he shakily shouted.
This was familiar territory for Izuku. Out of the multitudes of things that happened that day, Kacchan yelling about being better than him was the least unusual. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it felt like he hasn’t just been attacked by a villain, or had his dreams crushed.
Despite the sun setting in the background, it was as if school has just let out. A typical day of Kacchan lashing out, neither of them being attacked by a villain, and not having met All Might. Izuku would go back home, have dinner with his mother and fall asleep to some heroes interview.
Now, he wanted to do none of that, except finally being able to make it home. He didn’t want food, he’s had enough sludge to last a life time. He didn’t want to face his mother, she would be too worried. He wanted to face-plant into his bed and not come out for at least a week.
Kacchan finally finished shouting. Realistically, Izuku knew it hasn’t taken long, but he was tired, and in a lot of pain. His lungs screamed at him. He took the silence as his cue to really look at the other, to look him in the eyes.
Furrowed brows, a trembling lip, slump to his shoulders. Kacchan wasn’t faring any better mentally than Izuku was. The sparkle in his eye, the one people would mistake for his anger, Izuku easily read for the fear it was.
“He...sure is something,” Yuki said.
As she did, Kacchan turned tail and walked away, having said his piece. Izuku inhaled deeply, which, inadvertently, caused him to cough. Once it finished, he sighed, he was already over this.
“At least,” Izuku spoke slowly, “He still has the fight in him.”
Yuki shook her head at him, looking mighty exhausted for a ghost. The sun was setting behind her, casting a lazy golden glow everywhere. The wind has picked up, a late afternoon chill settling in.
A strong gust of wind hit him, unsettling if it wasn’t for the All Might that appeared with it. Seeing the hero wasn’t as exciting as the first time, but he still took Izuku’s breath away. Fear and anticipation both gripped at his heart.
All Might, now in his weaker form, began praising Izuku for his heroism. Suddenly, this wasn’t the hero who told him he’s weak, but a hero who was able to give him an opportunity to become great.
Suddenly, Izuku had the chance to become more than a useless Deku. He was presented with a quirk. A power that could let him save lives. A power that could make him matter, that could make him useful.
It made him feel like...everything was worth it.