Chapter Text
Izuku peeled open his eyes, the skin stretching uncomfortably as it pulled against the salt crust leftover from his tears. His head pounded, and despite lying perfectly still, his vision seemed to swim. Beyond the concrete walls and faded graffiti, he could see a sliver of the sky. The color was all wrong. Hadn’t it been a brilliant blue just moments ago? How long had he been here?
He shifted slightly, the ground underneath him crinkling and shifting in a decidedly not ground-like manner.
“What are you doing in a dumpster, kid?” A man with a deep, deliberate voice inquired.
Ah, that would explain the ‘ground’. And the nose-burning stench.
He sat up, groaning as the sky swam. He gingerly touched the back of his head, to feel his damp-yet-crunchy hair.
Ew, dumpster juice.
“Well?” The man said with a calm yet probing manner. The man was wrapped in tan bandages and red fabric, most of his face concealed. He looked like a very unique hero, one with darker themes. Surprisingly, Izuku couldn’t name him. When he failed to immediately respond, the man crossed his arms in a manner that came across as slightly impatient.
“Why am I not dead?” Izuku asked, mostly to himself.
The man takes an extended pause before speaking. “You thought you would be dead?” The man questioned, raising an eyebrow. His tone didn’t depict whether or not he found this concerning. The man’s head tilted slightly to the side as he considered the boy.
Midoriya propped himself up onto his elbows, attempting to prevent further sinkage into the trash heap.
“I was supposed to hit the pavement,” Izuku muttered, glancing around at the dumpster. Instead of the solid concrete he had been looking down upon, Izuku managed to fuck it up so badly that he landed in the one spot that wouldn’t kill him.
Could he do anything right?
The man was carrying a frown now, and he extended his arm to Izuku. He hesitated, but extended his arm to match. After taking his hand, the man hauled Izuku effortlessly out of the dumpster.
Izuku landed on his feet, but quickly slumped against the wall. His head hurt. He reached up to soothe the pain, his fingers finding blood embedded in his hair. He must have hit his head on something solid during his descent.
Shit.
“Don’t move too much. You might be concussed. You should see a medic,” the man suggested in a tone that sounded a lot closer to a command.
“I can’t,” he admitted, before reaching up to feel his head again. “I can’t afford it. It’s not…Insurance doesn’t cover quirkless healthcare, and I really can’t afford to stretch what I have. The bills are hard enough on their own.” Izuku let out a sigh, slumping further down the wall until he was sitting. He winced as his foot scraped against a broken bottle. He left his shoes, his backpack, and his phone on the roof.
“Where are your things?”
“Uhm- uh, they’re on the roof. Up there,” Izuku said, drawing his gaze up to the edge he leapt off of. The man turned to scale the building.
“No! No, it’s okay. I don’t want you to fall or get hurt,” Izuku protested, reaching out towards the hero.
The red-clad hero ignored him, and touched back down to the ground several moments later, holding his abandoned items.
Izuku took them, slipping on his shoes wordlessly without re-doing the laces. “Thank you,” he piped up. “What’s your name?” Izuku asked.
“I’m Chizome.”
“Izuku Midoriya,” he replied, before adding, “Or Deku. That’s what most people call me.”
Izuku could see the moment Chizome’s eyes hardened with recognition.
The older man crouched down next to him, while giving him enough space to feel comfortable. “Why did you jump off that roof?” The man asked, leveling Izuku’s green gaze.
Well, that’s a loaded question.
Izuku inhaled deeply, debating whether he should really talk about this. But he seemed nice enough, and no one else was willing to listen to him. “All Might put me on the ledge, I guess. I mean, left me on the roof, not on the ledge. I guess he forgot to help me down… It’s fine. It’s… it’s not fine. I can’t believe he would say that to me.”
Izuku knew he was rambling, not to mention saying all of the wrong things. He probably shouldn’t talk about his newfound dislike of All Might with another hero, but he wanted to talk about it to someone. Even if that was an off-putting hero in a back alleyway who smelled suspiciously like iron.
“All Might left you alone on a roof with no way down?” The man’s smooth, even tone had vanished. While it hadn’t changed drastically, Izuku could hear the disbelief in his voice.
“Yes.”
There’s a good chance this hero won’t believe him. He might even get so mad as to leave Midoriya here, just like All Might had.
The man’s expression became twisted, a mixture of confusion and something akin to betrayal. “What did he say to you?”
Does he really want to know?
Midoriya might as well answer. “I asked him if I could be a hero, even if I was quirkless. He said no.” Izuku looked upward and took a deep breath in an attempt to rein in his oncoming tears.
He sniffed before continuing, “I guess he’s not wrong, it just… it hit me in a way no one else could, no matter how much they tried. All Might was my hero, my idol. If he doesn’t believe in me, who would? No one wants a quirkless person in their lives, much less a quirkless hero. I just thought I could… well, it doesn’t matter anyways. I finally understood what everyone was trying to tell me; I was never going to make it. So I ended it a little prematurely, because it wouldn’t change anything.”
“I was never going to be anything.” Tears were rolling down his face as he finally spoke aloud the truth he had been running from for so long.
Izuku would never be a hero. He wouldn’t amount to anything at all, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Why had he ever thought he could change the facts? Quirkless people were useless.
Deku. That was his name, more so than the one he’d been assigned at birth. Isn’t that fucked up?
The tears were falling now, and he didn’t bother to dry them. Izuku gazed back up at the roof. He couldn’t fail twice, could he?
Chizome shook his head. “I won’t let you do that.” He gently turned Izuku’s head to inspect the gash on his scalp. “This will need stitches. I will take care of the cost. I also want you to be inspected for any other damages you may have.”
Huh?
Izuku was about to protest and claim, ‘he really was okay, there was no need for him to waste his money,’ when the man helped Izuku up to his feet.’
The man cut him off before he could start. “Don’t bother. I’m taking you to a friend of mine, she will check you out.” Chizome led Izuku away from the site of his would-be death.
That alone had Midoriya let out a disbelieving huff of laughter. It came out choked and unfinished. He’d almost died back there.
He’d wanted to.
They arrived at a small diner, and the unique hero led him to the back entrance. Once inside, a middle-aged woman with curly hair greeted him and took him down to the basement.
This probably should have triggered a ‘stranger danger’ response, but he was too woozy to care.
The room was a makeshift medical room, complete with sterile white walls and green soap.
See? It’s all fine.
“Hello, darling! Aren’t you adorable! Those green eyes!” The woman complimented cheerfully, smiling at him. “What’s your name?” She questioned, while slipping on gloves.
It was startling to meet someone who seemed so genuinely cheerful, let alone happy to see him.
“Uh-thanks! I’m, I’m Izuku. Izuku Midoriya. What’s your name?” Izuku asked, stammering. He never received compliments well, and he could barely keep up with her energetic questioning.
“I’m Miaka!” She turned, sharply asking Chizome, “What seems to be the problem?”
“He jumped off a roof and might need stitches. And a thorough examination. He’s likely concussed.” Chizome explained it in no uncertain terms, his eyes trailing over to the green-headed boy. “He’s quirkless, so he won’t get the right treatment anywhere else.”
She frowned, looking distressed. “My poor baby. We’ll get you all fixed up! I’m going to use my quirk to diagnose you, then we’ll get right into fixing that nasty cut.” Her eyes shifted into a pale, misty green before she began her sorties of questions.
“Izuku Midoriya has a concussion.
Izuku Midoriya has internal bleeding.
Izuku Midoriya has hemorrhaging.
Izuku Midoriya has brain damage.
Izuku Midoriya has whiplash.
Izuku Midoriya has fluid buildup in his skull.
Izuku Midoriya has burst a blood vessel today.
Izuku Midoriya has other major injuries.”
She paused as her misty eyes flickered red.
“Izuku Midoriya had other lethal or problematic injuries that need medical examination or treatment,” she amended, looking relieved as her eyes stayed green.
Izuku began writing furiously in his journal, having pulled it from his backpack the moment she mentioned ‘quirk’.
“You have such a cool quirk! You could be a great hero with that!” Izuku exclaimed, feeling childish glee rise in his chest. “Your quirk is something factual. If I’m right, you say statements, and your quirk tells you if they’re true or not. There’s no field that wouldn’t be amazing in!” Izuku took a far-too-small breath as he continued, “With a powerful quirk like that, there’s usually a drawback. I’m guessing you have a limit of questions you can ask, or it gives you a headache or something similar. But still! If you worked in the fashion industry, you can predict whether or not an outfit will be successful. Or determine someone’s safety in a sticky situation. There are so many opportunities! Wow…” Izuku rambled, drifting off into the possibilities. Why wasn’t she a Pro Hero?
Both adults stood in silence, with an odd expression on their faces. Miaka looked flattered, so at least Midoriya knew he hadn’t offended her.
“Sorry, I know my mumbling rambles can be kind of creepy. I just get really excited about quirks and stuff.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he repeated, staring down at his feet.
“Are you sure you’re quirkless? You seem like you have an analysis quirk, if that’s anything to go off of. You nailed my quirk and its downsides! I get massive migraines if I go over the limit of questions, and it drains me. I have to take a long nap to feel right again!” She ruffled his hair. “You’re a neat kid,” she said affectionately.
Izuku managed a small smile. That was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him.
“Well? What’s his status?” Chizome interrupted.
“He’s got a minor concussion, but no other lethal or major injuries we need to worry about. Once I stitch him up, there’s not going to be much else I can do for him. The concussion and other unknown injuries will heal up on their own, as long as he rests and is careful about taking hits to the head.” She turned towards Izuku, addressing him, “You need to stay out of trouble and get as much rest as possible.”
Izuku swallowed hard. How was he supposed to stay out of trouble? Trouble, better known as Kacchan, would definitely beat the shit out of him, concussion or not.
“Uhm. I severely doubt I’m going to be able to rest or avoid hits to the head,” Izuku admitted, trying his hardest not to awkwardly stumble over his sentences.
At their inquisitive looks, he continued, “Well, uh. Since I’m quirkless, a lot of people don’t like me. My third period teacher is known to hit me on the head. Uhm, well, I sort of… I sort of have bullies, and I really don’t think they’re gonna stop just because I have one lousy concussion. Actually, that might encourage them,” Izuku mused, tilting his head. He could already hear the taunts.
“It’s fine though,” he added, taken aback by Miaka’s pitiful expression. She looked as if she might cry.
“That’s awful! Oh, people can be so horrible. What monsters!” She cried, tossing her hands in the air.
Chizome made it worse. “All Might left him on a roof after telling him he could never be a hero,” he informed, a bitter expression taking over what little Izuku could see of his face.
Miaka dropped the syringe she was holding, clattering to the floor. It bounced close to Izuku’s feet.
Steadfastly ignoring the sting of that statement, he moved words it. Chizome wasn’t wrong, that’s exactly what happened, but it still sucks to think about.
He bent down to pick it up and reached out to her.
She sat gaping, horror etched on her face. “He what?” Her tone took on a new shape, enraged and disappointed.
Both males nodded.
She let out a distressed noise before wrapping her arms around Izuku’s feet in a crushing hug. “Oh, you poor baby!” She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to meet her eyes. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that. You know what they said to me? ‘Your quirk is dangerous, it can be used for so much evil’ and ‘you could never be a hero without a combative quirk’. They feared me for being strong, so they made me think I was weak. I could have been a damn good hero and I let them knock me off that path. I will not let you do the same. You’re such a bright, brilliant boy, and there is always a way. I believe in you.”
Izuku’s world shattered for the second time that day.
I believe in you.
Midoriya had never heard that in his life.
He collapsed into sobs, broken, wretched, scratchy sobs.
She stroked his back, whispering sweet nothings to him.
-/-
Hours later, Chizome and Maika dropped him off back at home. Inko was still on her work shift, so he came home to a dark and empty house. Miaka gave him her phone number and demanded that he call her if he felt like giving up. She said she would be watching the sports festival and cheering just for him.
Izuku memorized the digits and repeated them over and over as he made himself dinner. Miaka was his hero now.
He took a long, hot shower, gently scrubbing around the staples in his skull. He washed away all of the grime, ridding himself of the dumpster-stench.
And he thought. He thought a lot.
He had attempted suicide today. He survived a villain attack. He met All Might. He got a concussion. He met a hero. A real hero. And that hero wasn’t All Might.
He entered his primary-colored room. Very surface was filled with All Might merch. Izuku considered the space for a moment, before picking up a leftover box (he’s pretty sure it used to hold the kitchen mixer, but oh well). He swept his arm across his desk, knocking every single item into the box. All Might figures, All Might clock cards, an All Might fucking laptop. All of it had to go.
He turned on some outrageously aggressive music and set to work. In an embarrassingly teenage-like enraged state of hormones, he cursed out his childhood hero.
He furiously ripped posters from his wall, wadding up his bright comforter and throwing it in a large trash bag, along with any other All-Might-themed clothes. The curtains. The carpet.
Gone. All of it had to go. He couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. He hauled out the boxes, took the trash bags, and tossed it in the same damn dumpster he ended up inside. Not wanting to waste it, he donated the merch to Goodwill.
He managed to combine everything important into one large box. He hefted the heavy box up, and began carrying it all the way to the donation based store.
He passed by several sketchy alleges, but instead paid attention to the sidewalk below him, dimmed by yellow streetlights.
Midoriya promptly ran into someone else he didn’t want to see.
“What the hell are you doing here, Deku?” Kacchan roared, grabbing his shirt.
Fuck this day.
Izuku grunted lightly as he was pulled. He had to focus on the stars above in order to refrain from punching the blonde in his teeth.
Focus on the sky. The stars, the streetlights, anything but him. You cannot afford to get arrested for assault!
Midoriya was usually much more docile, but he’d had a hell of a day.
“Katsuki, play nice!” One of Kacchan’s cronies sneered jokingly. “Don’t want to hurt the useless nerd now, do we?” he teased, prowling forward.
“I’m just donating my stuff,” Izuku explained. He held up the box that was larger than his body.
Immediately, Kacchan snatched the box, digging inside. He certainly didn’t expect to come up with expensive figurines.
Cold wind caused Izuku to shiver a bit, tugging his jacket a bit closer. He pointedly acted nonchalant, a wonderful mask for his overly expressive face.
“You’re giving these away?” Kacchan demanded, confused. It was reasonable; there was a hefty amount of money to be made from the merch in that box.
“I don’t want them. Keep them if you want, I don’t care,” Izuku said tonelessly. He was done. He’s had the worst day of his fucking life, and he’s had it up to here in god damned bullshit.
It managed to stun them into silence, a small miracle. Izuku didn’t wait for the shock to wear off. He turned to leave, ready to end the shitty day.
Of course, the explosive blond had to open his mouth. “What the hell happened to your head, nerd?”
Oh, right. He needed to wash the blood out. He’d changed clothes, but he’d forgotten about himself. Again.
Izuku reached up automatically towards the staples. In doing so, his sleeve rolled down and revealed a deep, blackening bruise he had earned during his swan dive.
Fantastic.
He didn’t give the stunned teens the opportunity to comment. “Nothing, Kacchan. I’m going home.” He turned on his heel, walking away as quirky as you could without it being considered cowardly running.
“What, did little Deku have an accident? Did he hurt his little head?” Mr. Long-fucking-useless-fingers jeered. “Is he going to dieeee?”
It was almost accurate, if he’d landed properly.
“It’s a concussion and a few staples,” Izuku informed. “It’s not a big deal.” He started for the exit. Izuku heard them following, but stubbornly refused to turn around. He didn’t care if they followed him all the way home.
“What is up with him?” They whispered to each other. It was clearly meant to be heard.
“Tch. Whatever. I don’t fucking care, this is boring. I’m going someplace else,” Kacchan announced. His ‘friends’ followed like the loyal lap dogs they were.
The moment he was alone and around a corner, he jogged the rest of the way home.
He absently listened to the jingle of his house keys as he jimmied them through the rusted lock. A quick shower later and stealing a set of guest bedding, he was ready to end the day. He lay in his barren room, allowing sleep to overtake him. He would worry about life later. Right now, he needed a long night of undisturbed sleep.
Izuku woke to screaming.
So much for that.