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They fuck you up, your mom and dad.
Izuku had learned that at a very early age. He grew up in a house full of eggshells that he’d never once put down himself. Growing up quirkless had been one of the harshest reality checks one could receive, and he thought he’d handled it well. He survived, at least. He survived long enough to ‘miraculously manifest’ a quirk at fourteen, right before hero school. No one needed to know it was a hand-me-down.
The cruelty his peers and teachers offered was a kind distraction from the brutality of his homelife. He’d never told any of his classmates this, but Katsuki now knew a few more details about his childhood since they reconnected and fought out their problems on Ground Beta. The explosive blonde had genuinely apologized, and they were working their way towards a normal friendship again, like they had as kids. But even so, Izuku hadn’t ever revealed the depths of what he’d endured when Katsuki wasn’t bullying him in school.
None of this really mattered anymore. Izuku had learned to pack away the trauma and bad memories. He’d learned to file each one in separate boxes he could lock and shove inside a closet in his mind. The Vestiges hadn’t even seen the worst of it. So when Aizawa-sensei told them they’d be working with a special hero in class that day, Izuku hadn’t even considered that any of this would be exposed - and maybe that was his worst mistake.
“Alright, Hell Spawn, listen up.”
Aizawa had filed them all into one of the smaller gyms. Everyone sat in a big circle with their teacher and an unknown hero in the center. The hero was a taller man with broad shoulders and a black, baggy hero suit. He was wearing a full coat in spring, which was a touch overkill, but maybe he didn’t have a summer version of his suit. The guy wore a thick mask that looked almost like Hitoshi’s, but without the speakers and metal accents. The weirdest part about him was the military buzz cut and his piercing green eyes. Izuku really didn’t like how making eye contact with him felt like staring into a mirror, a mirror he absolutely didn’t want to look at.
“This is Reflections, a pro-hero specializing in villain reform - yes, I know, shocking, but we do have several reform programs in the country. Most of them are in the lower level prisons, so he also works in the correctional field as well. I’ll let him explain his quirk.”
The hero stepped into the center while Aizawa found a place to stand along the far wall. Izuku tried not to see that worried glance their teacher wore for only a split second, but he’d seen it, and now it was stuck in his head. What was this even about?
“As your teacher said, I’m Reflections. My job is to help villains see themselves for who they truly are, so they can start making changes to better themselves. My quirk, of the same name, forms a pane of glass in front of the affected person, and reflects their memories. I have no control over what you see, but it tends to pull out the memories that define you, that set your lives in motion.” He waved a hand. “For most younger people this can be a moment of overcoming a bully or maybe helping a kid on the street find their mom. You hero students have such interesting moments that define how you got here.”
Aizawa spoke up from the other side of the room. “The reason for doing this is for you all to see who you are behind your hero masks. You can’t be good heroes if you can’t face your own inner selves. We don’t want another Endeavor running around.” Everyone snickered. A few people winced. Surprisingly, Todoroki grinned to himself. “So we decided a few years back to start this program in order to have students find the point in their lives where they defined themselves as wanting to be heroes. It’s been a great way to help our students grab onto their hero spirits and ground themselves in humility.”
Humility? Is that what this was truly about? Izuku wasn’t so sure. In his mind, this felt more like a way to weed out the students that, like Endeavor, had come here looking for power and glory. A few months ago, Izuku might have thought Katsuki was one of those people. Now, he wasn’t sure what this quirk would reveal.
What would it show for Izuku? What was his defining moment that made him want to be a hero? What memory would this drag out that said ‘yes, that’s it, that’s the moment I said I want to be a hero’? Did Izuku even have one? He supposed that one time he got mugged on his way home from school might be fitting enough. The guy did some serious damage. Izuku had spent three days in bed playing up a fake flu just to prevent his mother taking him to a hospital where he’d just be hurt worse. Izuku was pretty good with a needle and thread these days, he’d stitched up more wounds than anyone his age should experience. The girls in the class might not appreciate his helpful clothing repairs as much if they knew where those skills came from.
The class had been talking while Izuku tried to decide which memory defined his heroic spirit, he hadn’t even noticed Katsuki staring at him in abject horror. Oh, right, this might reveal some of what Katsuki did to him. Well, maybe for Katsuki. Izuku was fairly sure this quirk wouldn’t bring up any of those memories, largely because Izuku had forgiven Katsuki for their past. He was more worried about the memories of his parents’ abuse. In those dark moments, he’d never wished for a hero more, and to become one.
“Alright kids, let’s get down to business, who wants to go first?”
To everyone’s shock, Shoji raised his hand first (one of them, that is). Reflections didn’t seem bothered by that, but most of the class glanced between themselves, a little concerned that one of their resident quiet guys was volunteering first. But hey, it was his memories to share, or not, so why not go first and get it over with?
“Look me in the eyes.” Shoji did as directed. That’s when Izuku noticed the guy’s quirk activation. The eyes. They changed colors when he moved and turned. Did that mean everyone saw them differently? Did that mean they reflected the eyes of the person he was looking at? Izuku was making leaps in his quirk analysis, but just one look into that man’s eyes and Izuku had been sure he was staring at his own-
Reflection . He’d been staring at a reflection of his own eyes, yes. Interesting.
A few seconds after Shoji and Reflections began their staring contest, a large pane of glass appeared a few feet in front of Shoji. Well, it wasn’t really glass; it was a mirror. But both sides were reflecting the memory that slowly began materializing on the pane. The mirror hung in mid air with no framing or stand. Izuku wondered if that was reflecting the hero, or the affected person. Did it appear plain because Shoji was a plain person, or because Reflections was? Did it matter? Would the mirror change at all?
The memory was a quick scene, which might be due to Shoji’s memory of the event. He was out in the ocean, grappling with a rock against horrendous tides, and tucked into his arms was a little girl, clinging to his shirt and screaming every time a wave slammed into them. It took several moments, but Shoji eventually pulled them both up onto the rocks safely. When it was done, the mirror melted into the ground, vanishing, and Shoji wiped a tear from his eye. Somehow, Izuku felt that wasn’t the complete memory. Shoji’s tears weren’t happy, but not many would even notice that, not unless you’ve experienced the same kind of pain as he had.
“That was such a hero move, Shoji!” Kirishima called.
Ochako did a flip where she hovered, floating, over her seat. “I can’t believe you did that so young. I can’t imagine how much strength that took.”
“Thanks, guys.”
Several students offered him shoulder pats or congratulations at the teen’s heroic actions. He was a hero, a true hero, and he’d managed it so young. Izuku had never once felt like a hero until he started school. He’d never had a real chance…well, not until the Sludge Villain incident.
“Who’s next?”
Again, another shy student held up their hands; Tokoyami. Again, Reflections stared into the student’s eyes and a mirror appeared. It was the same, so Izuku imagined the mirror itself was a part of the quirk, and didn’t change. This fact wasn’t really important, Izuku just wanted to note it so he could write it down later when he analyzed this quirk fully.
Tokoyami’s memory was just as sweet, if a little worrying. He’d been near a small forest fire a couple years ago (he looked roughly the same age as now), and with Dark Shadow’s help, he’d run in and saved armful after armful of wildlife and forest animals. Tokoyami suffered some mild burns, but he’d saved so many animals. Koda was crying happy tears next to him and the two shared a warm hug. Izuku smiled to himself.
Mina and Kirishima’s memories were actually identical, just from their own POV’s. Mina had stood up to a (objectively gigantic) man who was harassing a mutual friend of theirs. Izuku hadn’t even known they’d gone to the same middle school. Both of them had the same takeaway - they wanted to be a hero. For Mina, it was to continue saving people. For Kirishima, it was so he never felt helpless, and never let anyone else feel helpless, again. Izuku truly admired that mentality - it was very similar to his own.
Sato’s defining moment was a sweet moment with his mother who had died of cancer a few months before they started here at UA. He made her a birthday cake, and she’d asked him to keep being a hero to everyone the way he was a hero to her.
To be honest, Izuku was very much on the verge of tears seeing all his friends and classmates show the moments that pushed them towards heroism. He knew that pretty much all of them were humble to begin with, and didn’t really need this kind of crash course. A few might, though.
Iida’s was a memory of his brother reminding him to carry on the family legacy, and while most of the class took that well, Izuku and Aizawa shared a look that said they both knew there might be something toxic in that mentality.
Katsuki went next. He did glance at Izuku across the circle for just a second before Reflections captured his attention. There was obvious worry in Katsuki’s whole body, every muscle tense and flexing. There was even a vein on the side of his neck that pulsed each time he ground his jaw. Izuku wasn’t really worried about this one, and he was right not to be. The memory that appeared on his mirror was indeed the Sludge Villain Incident. The whole mirror was just an image of Izuku clawing the sludge from Katsuki’s view, panic and fear in his eyes, and explosions and sludge flying everywhere.
Everyone looked at Izuku the moment the mirror vanished. Izuku rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and blushed.
“I uhh, yeah, did that.”
“Idiot.” Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Could have gotten yourself killed.” Izuku knew that was because they both knew at the time he’d been quirkless, but neither of them made that clear to the class. “Still - thanks.”
“Of course, Kacchan.”
“I had no idea you boys were involved in a villain incident.” Aizawa remarked. “Did either of you get injured?” Both boys shook their heads. “Well, at least we know Izuku’s recklessness hasn’t changed.”
Most of the class laughed. Izuku allowed a grin to break across his lips, just for a moment. Yes, he was reckless. But it wasn’t because of his heroic spirit. Izuku glanced back at Katsuki. The shame on his face was evident only to Izuku. Izuku was reckless with his life because other people had instilled in him that his life had no value. He’d spent so many years being told to disappear that giving up his life for someone else felt like taking their advice. Izuku had mostly grown out of that mentality, but that didn’t mean he’d gained any sense of self-preservation.
Reflections turned to the rest of the class, counting heads. Everyone had gone - except Izuku. He finally turned and pointed at Izuku with a bright smile and those horrible green eyes. Izuku hated them. Did that mean he hated his own eyes? He shouldn’t be worried about that right now.
“I’m always curious about who goes last in these lessons. Can I ask you why?”
Izuku shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what would come up.” It wasn’t a lie, at all, actually. “I wanted time to think it over.”
“Hmm, I’ve never heard it phrased that way. Most kids are embarrassed by their hero moment.” Right. Because most kids had hero moments that were filled with compassion and maybe the slightest bit of shame like Kirishima’s frozen moment. Izuku’s memories were far more dangerous.
He could, perhaps, ask to be exempt and speak with Aizawa off to the side, but would that really change anything? After all, if he was exempt, the class would hurl questions at him endlessly about why he didn’t take his turn. They’d still likely have questions after this all went down, but at least they’d actually have some context. Izuku believed he was easier to tolerate with context, and he so rarely gave it. Maybe it was time to give a full view of his understanding of heroism - and villainy.
One last time, Izuku let his eyes wander to Katsuki directly across from him. He offered the most apologetic smile he could and turned back to Reflections before even catching the look on Katsuki’s face, though he knew it’d be horrible.
“Alright, let’s see what you got, kiddo.”
“Mmm.” Izuku agreed.
The second their eyes connected it was like a bolt of lightning arched across Izuku’s head, though it wasn’t painful at all. Or at least, it wasn’t, until he felt that locked closet inside his mind snap open and the rushed flood of memories actually choked him so hard he grabbed his chest. Reflections stumbled in front of him as the mirror appeared between them and showed the world who Izuku truly was, why he’d wanted to become a hero in the first place.
“What the f-” Reflections cut off his curse as the whole class turned to the mirror in confusion.
It wasn’t one scene like everyone else’s reflection had been; it was all of them . Every single memory Izuku had which tied back to his reason for wanting to be a hero; the abuse.
A flash of his mother throwing a glass vase at the wall only for the broken shards to freeze mid-air and then slice across Izuku’s face as she controlled them. A flicker of the day she held his hand over the stove because he’d messed up dinner. His father dragged him by his hair through the house, screaming about how useless he was as a rush of fire burnt off a chuck of Izuku’s curls when he tried to escape. Inko batted his dinner plate from his hands and then slapped him across the face. A flash of one of his teachers in a rather incriminating pose in a darkened room. Thankfully that memory vanished before anyone could see too much. Then Izuku was on the ground, trapped under his mother as she held his arms above his head and crushed his neck into the floor with her other hand, barking that he should never have been born. Fixing two dislocated shoulders had been a nightmare, truly. The mugging appeared for a split second, showing Izuku getting stabbed several times and kicked until his ribs cracked audibly.
The mirror flickered back to his home. Izuku imagined this would be the last scene, the coup de gras, so to speak. He remembered this moment, and he’d buried it the deepest inside his mind. The Vestiges were also staring at this whole event in horror, in his head, having not realized Izuku had managed to keep all of this from them, even inside his mind.
Izuku lay on the ground in his apartment, his breath wheezing and wet, staring at the ceiling. His mother appeared in his field of view with this disgusted look on her face.
“You think someone like you can be a hero?” Inko asked. “You think someone as worthless as you could ever dream of being a hero? You’re pathetic. You can’t even get off the ground.” Of course not. She had him pinned with her quirk. Sure enough, a moment later, Izuku was screaming as she held a hand over his chest and pushed . He remembered feeling like his eyes were going to burst from the pressure. The sound of several bones cracking echoed through the gym along with Izuku’s howling screams. “Shut up.” Inko stuffed a hand over his mouth, the mirror vision blurred as Izuku’s eyesight failed him in the memory. “Next time, I’ll put a fucking muzzle on you so you stop screaming.”
The mirror melted as Izuku’s screams and Inko’s words died out.
The room was silent, no one was breathing, let alone speaking. A pin could drop on the soft gym mats and still be heard. Izuku’s sigh is the only sound that echoed around them a moment later. He carefully stood up, tucked his hands in his pockets, and walked out of the gym without being dismissed or being stopped. The shock was too palpable. He’d seen tears in the eyes of several students, and rage on other faces.
It was raining when he got outside, a soft spring rain that Izuku stepped into without hesitation. The sound of the rain covered the calamity erupting inside the gym behind him. Izuku closed his eyes and stood in the rain in some vain attempt at finding peace. The Vestiges were raging inside his mind and he simply didn’t want to deal with them while also having to deal with his classmates and teachers. So he shut the door, and left them to rage at each other while he let the rain wash away the memories this whole ordeal just revealed. Rain could wash away everything, if you allowed it. Izuku begged. He closed the lid on those memory boxes, and carefully locked each one up before placing them all back on the shelf in the closet in his mind. He locked the door on the way out.
The gym door opened behind him as Aizawa walked out, alone, to the sound of Katsuki’s explosions inside the gym. He joined Izuku and stared up into the sky along with his student. Izuku had no idea how this would go, but he imagined there would likely be some consequence for showing his whole class his worst memories. Well, it’s not like he had much of a choice, right?
“I want to make something very clear before I say anything else.”
“Mmm?” Izuku asked, not yet opening his eyes.
“You are one hell of a hero, kid. No matter what anyone has ever or will ever say to you - you’re a damn good hero.”
Izuku smiled. “Thanks, Sensei.” They shared a warm moment of silence in the rain before Aizawa sighed and finally got down to business.
“You know I have to report this, right?” Izuku nodded to his teacher. “I’ve called Hound Dog over and I’ll have to talk with Nedzu. I just…I want to know why you didn’t come to be first. Before the course.”
“I honestly didn’t even think of it until it was nearly my turn. I’ve locked all that up inside my mind so tightly that I just… learned to live around it, I guess. My life’s not like that anymore. My mother’s not like that anymore.”
“She just- stopped?” He seemed amazed.
“Mmm, when I developed my quirk, on the day of the entrance exams.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah. I went into the exams quirkless and came out…something else. But mom was happy. If you ask me though, I think she’s more happy I ended up with a quirk similar to her parents, rather than something like my father’s quirk. Still, a part of me wishes I could have done this quirkless.” Izuku sighed. “But there are just some villains who can’t be defeated without power. Anyway-” He finally opened his eyes and looked down from the sky, back to his teacher.
Aizawa stared at him with a wide-eyed, jaw parted expression full of pain. Izuku supposed he sounded rather insane just now, even if he was half repeating the words of his rather absent mentor.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, Sensei.”
“Oh no, this didn’t- I was startled when you blankly stared at the reflection of your memories, I was freaked out when you got up and walked out like you weren’t bothered by any of it. Right now? I am…very fucking concerned.”
“Understandably.”
“What worries me most is how calm you are, like what was done to you is just…normal - like you’ve accepted it as if it were perfectly okay.”
Izuku shrugged. “It was. I was quirkless. Everyone treated me exactly how we were all taught to treat quirkless people. My mother still sees me as worthless, but because I have a quirk, she knows if she beats me, she’ll get in trouble.”
“Midoriya, do you expect me not to do anything about this just because you were a late bloomer? You weren’t quirkless, so on top of everything else she did, the severe medical negligence that led to your quirk manifesting so violently in the entrance exam is a very serious offense.”
Except he was quirkless. Izuku is technically still quirkless. This borrowed power wasn’t really his, no matter how much he wanted to claim it for himself. Izuku’s head tipped up towards the sky for one more moment, watching the clouds lazily drift across it without a care in the world. The rain spraying his face freed something inside of him, but he wished he could share that careless sense of freedom the clouds in the sky held; something he knew he would never reach.
“I don’t expect anything from you, Sensei.”
“Well, then we’re damn well going to change that. Got it?”
Izuku smiled, small and curious. “Yeah. Okay.” Maybe something would change this time. Maybe. Hopefully.