Chapter Text
Life doesn't always go the way you want it to. Sometimes it just throws you in a garbage can and lights the garbage can on fire and laughs as you scream in agony. And all you can do is tell yourself that it'll be okay. That you'll be okay. And sometimes you're right and you wake up the next morning to a wonderful day full of sunshine and rainbows and singing birds and you start living life in a damn Disney movie.
Other times you're wrong. The cycle just continues. Maybe Life adds lighter fluid next time. Or fills the bottom of the can with dead fish. And it's up to you to get up off your sorry ass and do something to fix your life because it is clear that you're basically alone. When there's no hero coming to save you, you're forced to save yourself. Be your own hero.
Midoriya Izuku, after a life of wanting to be a hero despite his quirklessness, decides to finally take his life into his own hands. You can blame that neglected-looking ad on the corkboard in the convenience store. “Tutoring. Must have at least a first year middle school education. Will pay as well as we can. Contact for more details.” He’s just starting his second year in a few weeks. It works.
He tears off one of the phone number tabs, stuffing it in his pocket before he checks out. Even if he can’t be a hero the traditional way, he can still help people. He can still be their hero. He’ll have to talk to Mom about it, but he hopes she’ll approve. Besides, why turn down the money?
-
When Mom walks in the door that night, Izuku is waiting at the table, shaking out of nervousness. What if she says ‘no’? He knows it’s probably stupid to be this worried about a simple ‘no’, but he can’t help it. This small piece of paper is his ticket toward any future he can possibly live with. “Mom?” he squeaks, cursing the way his voice portrays his nerves so obviously.
She takes off her jacket, laying it over the back of a chair before sitting in it. “What is it, honey?” she asks gently.
Izuku opens his mouth to explain the ad, his thoughts, anything, but his voice decides to stop working. His jaw snaps shut and his molars grind. God damn it, he’s going to do this if it kills him! He tries again, doing his best to sound even halfway coherent. “There was an ad. They wanted a tutor. I wanted to apply,” he forces out, barely above a whisper. Izuku sets the phone number on the table between them. “C-Can I?” It’s his way of being a hero. At least for now.
Mom glances at the paper before looking at Izuku. “Of course you can, sweetheart. Though I would like to talk to these people first. I don’t want to be sending you into something I know nothing about. How does that sound?”
Tears well up before Izuku knows what hit him. “Thank you!” he sobs. Him and his overactive tear ducts.
-
Mom approved. She called the people and she approved. She gave Izuku a taser, but she still approved. So that is how Izuku finds himself walking through the bad part of town that could’ve been his route home from school had he not been scared off by the shouting among other things. It's how he ends up knocking on a rickety-looking door timidly and being pulled into the house violently and shoved against the door. “Who are you?” a gruff voice demands.
At this point, the only thing keeping Izuku from being slumped on the floor is the hand holding his shirt. “T-the- I'm- Tutor?” he stutters through his tears. “I'm- Wrong address?” This was a bad idea. This was a very bad-
The hand lets go and Izuku falls to the floor, sucking in air like it's going out of style. “Midoriya?” the voice asks, much gentler now. Izuku nods, eyes glued to the floor between his knees. “I'm sorry. We can't be too careful around here.”
“Mhm,” Izuku pushes out, scared stiff.
The man crouches down in front of him and Izuku glances up, seeing half-purple-half-red eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay? Did you get here safely?”
Izuku nods, wiping tear tracks from his face. “J-Just a little scared.” He pulls the taser from his backpack. “Didn't need to use this,” he laughs tentatively.
“My name is Aru,” the man says, helping Izuku to his feet. “Thank you for taking the offer. No one wants to come to this part of town.” He chuckles drily for a second before sighing. “Probably because we can't even trust children that knock on our doors. Follow me. I'll show you-”
A girl just a bit smaller than Izuku runs into the room, jumping onto Aru’s back. “Aru! Is this him? Is he gonna teach me?” Izuku stumbles back, running into the door again. “Well, isn’t he skittish?”
Aru grins, reaching behind himself to pull the girl off of him, setting her down by his side. “Midoriya, meet Sora. Sora, this is going to be your teacher, Midoriya. All of what she knows she had to teach herself. We couldn’t… I don’t know how much your mother told you, but we couldn’t afford to send her to school.”
Something stabs in Izuku’s gut. Even if school is such a hell to him, a place that brings pain and suffering and marks he has to hide from his mother, he can’t imagine not having it. Not having a place for him to soak up information and learn about the world. He doesn’t want to imagine it. He nods to himself resolutely. He’s going to help. He has to help. No child should be barred from an education. “Okay, Sora,” he decides. “I need to see what you know. Is there someplace we can work in relative peace?”
Sora’s eyes light up. “Thank you! My room!” She grabs his wrist and tugs him along as she sprints through the house. “Come on!” she laughs.
-
I’ll need to work on her grammar, and she knows next to no English. I wonder if she’d be able to learn through watching things with English audio and Japanese subtitles. As for math-
What Izuku assumes is the front door slams against a wall, shaking the room. “ Where the fuck is my money?! ” someone shouts downstairs.
Sora’s eyes widen and she curses under her breath. “Mido, you gotta go,” she hisses, moving things away from the window and shoving it open. He doesn’t move so she grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulling him toward the window. “Please. It isn’t safe right now. Go home. We’ll call when it’s safe to come back.” She forces him out onto the fire escape.
Numbly, he starts climbing down the stairs and pushing down the ladder. When he gets to the bottom, Sora pulls the ladder back up.
He doesn’t want to leave her. It feels wrong. So, so very wrong. “I’ll be fine,” Sora snaps, as if reading his mind. “Just. Go.”
So he does. He reaches the end of the block when he hears the gunshot. And that’s how his second day of tutoring ends.
-
By the end of his first week, Sora had to send him away once more. As he walks to Aru’s house, people stop him, asking him to teach their kids. Or even teach them . Living in slums like this… not the best for getting a proper education. The more time Izuku spends around here, the more he’s convinced. No one cares. No police come through here unless a murder has already happened, and even that doesn’t ensure their presence. Izuku has yet to see a single hero around, despite the fact that he would see two to three weekly in any other part of town, at least one a day in the more populated areas.
He doesn’t like that these people have to live like this.
It’s the least he can do to not charge them for his services. Some people choose to give him money despite his protests that they need it more than he does. Some people send him off with food, which he prefers to give to those who can’t get enough otherwise.
At the end of his second week, he has a two hour teaching time blocked out during which he teaches a class as best he can, followed by an hour of individual help.
Halfway through his third, he learns why certain groups don’t show up to class when others do. He finds out more about the people he’s been teaching. So he changes things up. Monday and Thursday, he teaches Aru’s group. Tuesdays and Friday are for the group that Dabi guy is part of. Wednesdays and Saturdays are for Yuki and her people. Sundays are for whoever wants to come and promises not to kill anyone else. Of course, this doesn’t mean that Dabi can’t come on Monday or something. The scheduled days are just so everyone can come without being forced to be in the same room as someone they don’t get along with.
Izuku doesn’t want to call them gangs, but, in all honesty, that’s what they are.
-
School starts up again and Izuku has to shift his schedule. He goes to school, goes to teach, and goes home. He doesn’t do much else, unless Sora or Yuki convince him to stay out a bit later or to meet them at this soda shop or that ice cream stand. He doesn’t have that much else to do.
He is glad for the long sleeves of his uniform. The people he teaches already have enough to worry about, what with paying bills or debts or figuring out how to get their next meals. He doesn’t want them worrying about the bruises or the cuts or the burns.
Sadly, though, this doesn’t last for long. “Mido,” Sora says when she meets him at the end of the road as he comes from school. “You’re limping.”
That he is. “No, I’m not,” he assures, not correcting the limp in the least.
Sora knocks his shoulder and he sucks in a breath. “And I’m a J-Pop star. Mido, what happened?”
“Nothing.” His voice is sharp as he trudges on ahead. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it.”
She tsks. “That’s just going to make me worry more.”
“Then worry.”
-
Mido just keeps coming in worse and worse shape. It started with the limp. Then she saw the bruise barely hidden under his sleeve. The way he flinched when she gesticulated too violently (Mido taught her the word ‘gesticulate’. It’s a good word). The red marks around his neck. The way he winced when he sat down. Finally, Sora has had enough. “Take off your shirt,” she demands.
“What? E-Excuse me?” the boy stutters, his face going red.
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not stupid. Something is clearly going on. I’m not going to sit around and wait till you show up with a damn crutch. Tell me what is happening or take off your shirt and let me draw my own conclusions.”
He shakes his head. “It’s no-”
“If you try and tell me ‘It’s nothing’ one more time, Midoriya Izuku, I will put my hand or your head through a fucking wall. What. Happened.”
The boy blanches as he sinks down in his chair. He mumbles something.
Sora leans closer, expression daring him to pull something. “What was that?”
Mido shrinks down even further. “The kids at school make fun of me because I’m quirkless,” he whimpers.
Eye twitching, Sora gets up from the table. “ That is clearly more than just making fun of.” She pulls open the door. “Aru!” she shouts, hearing Mido clamber from his seat.
“Sora, wait!”
She whips around, pinning him with her glare. He stops moving immediately. “You come here. Getting beaten and bloodied and bruised for God knows how long. And you want me to wait ?!”
Aru comes into the room in a hurry. “Sora, is everything okay?”
“Ye-” Mido tries to reply.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Sora interrupts. “His classmates are bullying him over something stupid.”
Mido’s eyes go wide, pleading with them to stop. Aru’s fists clench and vines start to creep between the floorboards. “I will take care of that issue,” he grits out. Sora knows that Aru has come to see Mido like he sees her. Like his kid.
He pulls out his phone, starting to dial, when Mido jumps at him, trying to pry the phone from his hands. “Please. Please, don’t,” he begs. “Don’t hurt them.” Even if he doesn’t like saying it, Mido knows what kind of people they are. The way things work around here. “If you need to do something, teach me to fight. If you can’t, find someone who can. I don’t… I don’t want them getting hurt because of me. It’s not their fault they were taught ‘quirkless’ means ‘worthless’.”
Sora doesn’t like how Mido stands up for these people. The ones that hurt him. Seem to treat him like a punching bag. “Mi-” she tries.
Aru holds up a hand, silencing her. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll find someone with a body type similar to yours to help you fight. You’ll stay an extra hour or two after your lessons, or maybe cut some out. You will tell your mother about the bullying so she can do something about it with the school. Am I clear?”
Mido shrinks under his gaze. “They won’t care. Th- The teachers. The school. They never cared. Why would they start now?” he mutters.
Sora’s guardian forces Mido to look up at him. “Am. I. Clear?”
The boy nods. “Yes, sir.”
-
“Mom?” Izuku calls as he walks in the door. “Can we talk?” Inko comes to sit at the dining room table, a questioning look on her face. “I… Mom, I think I’m getting bullied at school.”
She knew it. She wishes that she was wrong. That her boy was just really, really clumsy. But she knew that wasn’t the case. She had the sinking feeling ever since the bruises started appearing. It had only gotten worse when he started trying to hide them. She should have done something. No matter how many times she asked him about it, he just said he fell. He tripped. He bumped into the desk.
Inko wishes she had intervened earlier. She should have, and that guilt will sit with her forever. But now? Now that Izuku has come forward about it on his own?
Hell hath no fury like an angry mother.