Chapter Text
At age four, Izuku learnt that all men weren’t created equal.
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“You know if you really want to be a hero that badly, there actually might be another way, ” Kacchan’s voice grates on Izuku’s ears, but he still tries his best to commit every word to memory. Because no matter how many times Kacchan hits him, or tells him he’s worthless, he can’t help but hope that someday, somehow, they’ll make up. And who knows? Maybe Kacchan would give him some worthwhile advice. It’s not like he had a plan to be a hero other than to try his hardest on the entrance exams.
“Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan-dive off the roof of the building.”
Oh. Izuku can’t help the flinch he makes because that’s new. Sure, he’d been suicide baited before, but not by Kacchan, never by Kacchan. He isn't sure how to feel about it.
Even after Kacchan and his lackeys are gone, Izuku can’t move from his spot. All that’s going through his head are the words he had just heard, like a never-ending echo. And then the aftershock hits, and Izuku spirals. Because why else would Kacchan say it, unless he meant it?
By the time Izuku’s pulled himself from the flood of thoughts, waves of Kacchan’s never wrong and useless, quirkless Deku, his feet have brought him to the pond by the window. He winces as he bends down, because suddenly the burn on his shoulder hurts all too much and his eyes are stinging and the blistered skin oh-so-carefully bandaged under his sleeves is itching in a way it never did before.
Here lie Izuku’s hopes and dreams, may the fish appreciate them more than Kacchan ever did.
Izuku is frozen for a moment, contemplating whether he should cut his losses and just leave Hero Analysis for the Future number 13 to the fish before remembering that fish don’t eat paper and ink. It’s a herculean task dragging the notebook from the water, limbs shaking as his chest heaves with wretched sobs, but Izuku just about manages it. As soon as it’s out of the water, Izuku hugs it to his chest like a lifeline, knowing in his heart that each and every page has been ruined beyond repair.
Izuku’s head throbs when he stands up, and he can’t tell if it’s from the crying or the pain of his injuries, probably both. The world doesn’t seem real during Izuku’s walk home, and he allows himself to be pulled back into his thoughts, trusting his body to know the way home. Izuku doesn’t even notice the slime villain lunging, and abruptly Izuku’s jerked back to the present by the unfamiliar feeling of sludge wrapped around him. A split second is all he gets to register what’s happening before he’s completely submerged.
It’s ironic, he thinks, because Izuku’s never been one to be unaware of his surroundings. He’s always needed to take in anything and everything around him, processing it and muttering anything of note under his breath - a 20% sale on eggs he’d have to remind his mom about, a passer-by’s hair changing colour with every fourth step, a bully’s incoming leg ready to catch him unaware. The one time Izuku lets himself go, the one time Izuku isn’t taking in everything around him, he’s caught out by a villain.
His hopes and dreams were ruined by the water, maybe the world was telling Izuku to let the same happen to him. And as the black spots in his vision get bigger and bigger, Izuku almost thinks he imagines the red-white-and-blue appearing before he stops thinking altogether.
When he comes to, Izuku doesn’t see what he expected to. He wasn’t really expecting anything, to be honest, he didn’t think much about the afterlife. It takes him a while to register the face in front of him, the pale white complexion and horrified expression a far cry from what he was used to seeing. By the time Izuku’s figured out who he’s facing, he almost believes that he’s actually dead.
Izuku realises with a start that All Might’s been speaking this entire time, but the whole thing is so surreal that he can’t do anything but gape before his rabid fanboy habits finally kick in.
“All Might… the real thing! C-can I get…” Izuku reaches for the battered notebook, forgetting in the heat of the moment the sodden state of it before noticing the autograph, in all its glory, splayed out across two perfectly dried pages. Smudged with ink, but dry nonetheless.
“Thank you!” Izuku’s reminded of his injuries when he bows as deep as he can, stifling his hisses of pain as he thinks. All Might must’ve punched the villain and dried out my notebook for me! Izuku straightens back up to see the hero bending down.
“Well, I’ve gotta get this guy to the police. Stay out of trouble!”
Izuku barely processes All Might’s words as he acts on instinct, clutching the hero’s leg and not letting go.
“H-Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” All Might’s booming voice cuts clearly through the noise of the wind. “I love my fans, but this is too much!” He shakes his leg, trying to get Izuku to let go.
“If I let go now, I’ll die!” Izuku’s voice is hoarse and his throat hurts from shouting the words, and he hopes that his words don’t sound as rough and croaky as he felt they did.
“Oh, that's a good point. Just keep your eyes and mouth shut.”
When All Might lands, Izuku detaches himself from the hero’s leg. He pulls himself up, halting All Might in his tracks.
“W-Wait! I have something I need to ask you…”
All Might’s coughing now, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but on the rooftop with a fan of his.
“I-Is it possible to become a h-hero even if- if I don’t have a quirk?” Izuku blurts out the question before All Might can jump off again and leave him alone. He looks down at his feet, pretending that he could see right through the red fabric and straight through his flesh. Izuku’s rarely angry but, at that very moment, he glares at where he imagines his second pinky joint is.
Izuku keeps glaring at his feet. “C-Could I ever hope to be someone like y-you?” The answer he’s been waiting for his whole life was about to be presented to him. This was something Izuku’s been wanting - no, needing his whole life, but he can’t get himself to tear his gaze away from the reason his whole life’s been so hard in the first place.
There’s a flutter of coughs in front of him that pulls Izuku out of his trance, only to see a different man in front of him.
“I- Wait! Where’d All Might go? Y-you’re a fake! Imposter!” Izuku takes a step back, looking back and forth between fake All Might and his notebook, where fake All Might’s autograph resided.
“I can assure you,” fake All Might sighs at Izuku, as if he’s the one being problematic when fake All Might was the one who poofed in front of him. “I am All Might. I’m counting on you to keep your mouth shut.”
Apparently fake All Might was actually real All Might, just not flexing? Being buff? Izuku was still reeling from the information whilst the hero bulldozed on, showing him his injury and explaining what had happened.
“Pro heroes are always having to risk their lives, some villains just can't be beaten without powers.” Izuku can feel it in the air, the moment of truth. “So, can you be a hero? No, not without a quirk. It’s not bad to have a dream, just be realistic.”
Let it be said that the truth isn’t always pretty, and Izuku now knew that well enough.
He thanks the hero and lets him run off to wherever else he has to go because All Might was useful, he was needed. Izuku? He was nothing - the kids at school made that clear enough for him, and All Might drove the final nail in the coffin. It’s all Izuku can think about as makes his way down the building and back home.
Izuku walks down the pavement, eyes glassy and body weary. Everything around him seemed too bright, too lively for a boy whose dreams were crushed by the world in the span of a single day. Thankfully, his mom worked late - she had to, to raise such a fragile and problematic son like Izuku on her own - and Izuku could avoid any suspicion by holing himself up in his room.
But as soon as Izuku makes it to his room, his safe haven, he’s surrounded on all sides by the number one hero, and all he can hear is All Might’s last words to him ringing in his ears. Not without a quirk he said, be realistic. Be realistic? Being realistic would be listening to Kacchan, the teachers, following the numbers that show up whenever Izuku searched up the statistics on quirkless people.
Honestly, though? Izuku didn’t mind being realistic. What else did he have to lose? If Kacchan of all people was telling him to jump off a roof, there must be a reason why. And Izuku was tired. So, so tired. Being able to rest sounded nice, which is why Izuku makes up his mind while following through the rest of his day numbly.
It’s easy, really, for him to slip out of his window as his mom sleeps in the room opposite. Izuku’s used to hiding, being as quiet as possible to avoid attention, and all that practice fading into the background pays off as he makes his way back to the building All Might had brought him to earlier that day. It’s easier to make it to the roof, with the lock being rusted with age and the surrounding area devoid of any people. Izuku is oddly calm as he makes his way up the stairs, one foot after another. And as he reaches the door to the roof, hands shaking and breath hitching the tiniest bit, Izuku accepts that he won’t be going back the way he came from.
At eleven at night, Musutafu isn’t busy, but Izuku can still see the occasional car passing by from his perch. He sees the orange lights through the window of the building opposite him, and the flashing lights of the konbini just a few streets away. Izuku can practically hear the door opening and closing.
At midnight, Japan is still moving, no matter how slow. Izuku takes his shoes off, tucks the note he’s written underneath, and steels his nerves - all he has to do is take four steps. The first step feels like shedding years’ worth of suffering, and the second feels the same. The third step brings overwhelming relief - Izuku is so, so close to it all being over. On the fourth step, he falls, and Japan comes to a standstill.
As he falls, Izuku can’t help but smile. The wind whips around him and Izuku treasures the feeling of weightlessness, of being free, knowing it’d be the first and last time he’d get to. It’s as if a burden has been lifted. In between the roof and the ground, Izuku can just exist without caring about anything else - not his quirk status, not Kacchan, not All Might.
Izuku keeps his eyes closed and he savours the moment before he hits the ground. He only just feels the flash of pain that comes with the impact, but it feels so distant that it doesn’t matter. And as the blood seeps into the pavement, Izuku finally rests.