Chapter Text
"A man chooses," says a male voice from behind him.
"A slave obeys." Answers a female voice.
Izuku Midoriya turned from the edge of the roof to find a man and a woman standing beside each other. Judging from their similar facial features, pale skin, and ginger hair he could assume they were related, he even had the nagging suspicion that they might be twins. They were wearing matching beige jackets over brown vests and white dress shirts, green ties tying the ensemble together.
"Which do you think he is?" asks the man.
"Well, is he choosing or is he obeying?" the woman asks back.
Izuku fidgeted with the straps of his yellow backpack, his black aldera gakuran sitting on his lanky frame rustling as he shifted in his place. Throughout their little exchanges the tones of the two strangers had held a certain fascination that Izuku knew intimately, he had fond memories of hours spent analyzing quirks, his voice filled with curiosity. But that had been then, and this is now; that had been when he still had the naive hope that he would amount to anything. He had been standing on the roof edge for some time now, he had been contemplating whether there was anything in his life that made it worth living. The naive child within him, the dreamer that hoped beyond all hope to be a hero wailed against the edges of his own consciousness.
‘What about mom?! She loves us, this will destroy her!’
But the part of him that had to wake up every day and go to Aldera had grown all encompassing, it understood that mom would suffer, but it would only be temporary. If he stayed behind she would have to suffer every day watching the quirkless Deku attempt to make something of his life. And Izuku was unwilling to put his mother through any more suffering. Turning once again towards the ledge of the roof, he stepped up to it and looked down, as the true height became clear he felt slightly disoriented by a sense of vertigo. But it wasn’t enough to stop him.
“It looks as though he is about to obey…” Lamented the male voice.
The comment made Izuku hesitate. In his moment of spiralling he had forgotten the two strangers standing behind him. The two strangers that had made no effort to stop him, that seemed to be fascinated by the prospect of him jumping. The increasing confusion was enough to halt the momentum he had built up towards actually going through with it. Sighing in defeat, he turned towards the strangers and with some trepidation spoke.
“Uh… Um… Do you need anything?” his voice trembled.
As the two strangers looked him in the eyes, he felt himself freeze. They seemed to see through him, and in this crazy world of quirks they might as well be able to.
“How rude of us. We are incredibly sorry. I’m Rosalind Lutece,” she said as she did a slight bow.
“And I’m Robert Lutece, a pleasure to meet you.” he too bowed.
“Izuku Midoriya.” he answered, as he felt compelled to return the introduction.
Before he could repeat his question, Rosalind answered.
“Tell us, we are morbidly curious; are you choosing to jump?”
“Or were you told to do so? By society, by culture, by someone?” Robert added.
Izuku felt ice flow through his veins. How did they know? Kacchan had only told him to do so today. Were they following him? Or was it perhaps a quirk? Whatever it was he had to direct them elsewhere.
‘If you want to be a hero so bad, how about you throw yourself off a roof, and wish for a quirk in your next life!’
Izuku had no intention of living past today, and Kacchan was going to be the greatest Hero; the explosive blonde had not really meant what he had told Izuku. Regardless, he was not doing it because Kacchan told him so, he was doing it because the world didn’t have a place for a quirkless Deku, and he would be saving everybody the time and worry they would expend if he remained in their lives in whatever capacity. In that way he could even argue it was the heroic thing to do.
“He seems lost in thought.” commented Rosalind.
“Yes, he seems to do that a lot.” Answered Robert.
Izuku looked up at them, bags under his eyes, listlessly swaying under the rooftop breeze.
“I’m choosing to do it.”
The Lutece’s looked at each other, a silent exchange going between them, before they turned back towards Izuku.
“Why?” they asked.
“Because it is the right thing to do, I want to be a hero.” he answered with what little conviction he could find within himself.
The response was automatic, mechanical. He wanted to be a hero, that is the only thing he had ever wanted, since the moment he could comprehend the meaning of the word, since he had watched All-Might saving people on repeat, his indomitable smile on full display. It had taken him 15 years, but he had finally found the way in which someone quirkless like himself could actually be a hero.
“If your goal is to be a hero, there are surely better methods…” Rosalind sounded concerned, and yet her face was a pale mask of indifference.
Robert looked like he was about to say something, but Izuku interrupted them.
“I’m quirkless, there is nothing special about me. I had thought that with the right training, and by analyzing quirks I could make up for the difference, but with everyday that passes my peers grow stronger, while I remain the same. I’m just being realistic like everyone has always told me to be.”
In his early years he had been defiant, he had openly and proudly proclaimed that he would be a great hero like All-Might. But one could only be called useless and worthless so many times before the message sunk in. Even if he wanted to, even if he tried, the world was under no obligation to accommodate his whims. Izuku looked at his red sneakers, worn with use from running around towards hero fights. Something that had brought light in the darkness of his days, that now seemed so inconsequential.
Robert tilted his head, face impassive.
“In that case can you really claim to be choosing?” asked the pale man.
Izuku looked at him, he was groing tired of this conversation, but he didn’t have the energy to blow up, not that he would ever do that, his mother had raised him right.
“It sounds to me that you are following along the path that society has set out for you.” Robert finished.
“A man chooses.”
“A slave obeys.”
They expressed once again, alternating. Something about what they had just said rubbed Izuku the wrong way… Were they calling him a slave? He would like to think that he had always chosen for himself throughout his 15 years of life, but then again, had he ever stood up for himself? He could argue that fighting violence with violence was contrary to being a hero, but even All-Might fought against villains. He said that he wanted to be a hero, but had he ever trained? He had been told it would be worthless, and thus he had decided to focus on his analysis; Had that been a choice? Or did he obey?
“If a hero is what you want to be, then perhaps we can help you.” started Robert.
Izuku looked up, having been broken out of his internal rambling. He wanted, yearned even, for hope of any kind. And yet, he couldn’t allow himself to feel it, because the pain he would feel when it was eventually taken away would be worse than death. He should probably turn around, jump over the edge and get things over with. But his own voice betrayed him.
“How?” he choked out.
He hadn’t realized that at some point in the conversation he had begun crying.
“Deep, deep beneath the waves, under untold bars of pressure, there is a city…” Rosalind began to explain with little to no fanfare.
“Because there is always a city.” added Robert with some snark.
“This city is in need of a hero.”
“And not just any hero.”
“The deal is simple.”
“Help us help this city,”
“And in doing so become the hero you were always meant to be.”
Izuku felt his breath hitch. The rational, analytical side of him, was telling him that this was too good to be true; the part of him that had already given up had nothing left to lose; and the child? The child had regained a spark of hope, because at the end of the day if there was one thing that would always define Izuku Midoriya was his need to be a hero.
“So…” Robert prompted.
“Are you a man? Or are you a slave?” Rosalind asked, eyes burning with curiosity.