Chapter Text
“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
It was what the social worker had said, and it was good advice.
Certainly, ever since his father had died, Izuku had felt he was going through hell. His mother, Midoriya Inko, had collapsed mentally. Her friend Mitsuki often said that it would have been better if his father had just left instead of bringing this mess home where it would impact his wife and kids, but Izuku wasn’t able to see it that way.
What could be worse than being abandoned by your own parent?
“It’s like they’ve been abandoned by their parents,” stage-whispered one of the other Japanese girls, and a few others giggled.
Yaoyorozu Momo sighed. As much as she really didn’t want to pry into others’ personal lives, and as much as she didn’t want to be one of those people that assumed all foreigners were crazy uncultured barbarians, in this case the rumors appeared to be right.
The Aldred family heirs were great to look at, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, but they were fundamentally out of control. This lack of control, she supposed, was one of the hallmarks of the heirs of noble estates in Europe.
The karaoke machine blared while she thought, sitting in the VIP KTV booth as the Aldreds took another turn.
Monday left me broken
Tuesday I was through with hopin'
Wednesday my empty arms were open
Thursday waiting for love, waiting for love
Certainly songs about love and uplifting experiences were always popular. It seemed that one of the Aldreds’ ancestors had been famous for such songs, leading them to always pick this one when they went out for karaoke. It wasn’t a bad thing; the outings, designed to foster relationships between the Japanese elite and foreign scions, would otherwise be overrun with 'Cruel Angel’s Thesis,' 'Moonlight Densetsu,' or 'Plazma.'
The problem was… well, Momo was not sure if it was due to their ancestral connection to love songs, or just their tendency to act out, but… the Aldreds really liked to party.
“Hello!” called a sing-song voice. “Your delivery is here!” Several buff men entered in Chippendale’s suits, which is to say, wearing essentially thongs and black bowties, leaving their muscular bodies completely visible to be ogled or touched. They arrived carrying cake, champagne, and other snacks, but really, this was just a stripper service hidden behind the flimsiest of excuses.
Momo sighed, and picked up a champagne glass. Another hour and she could leave gracefully.
The Aldreds really liked to party.
Izuku sighed as he put on the sequined shirt. It was flashy and loud and it just wasn’t him, but in a sense, if he thought of it as a costume, maybe that made it perfect. Maybe he could have one identity for work, and another that was the real him.
Like a hero, whispered a voice in the corner of his mind.
He grinned bitterly at his reflection in the mirror. This was about as far from hero work as he could possibly get. He would never have a hero career. Oh, he had a quirk, but it had never activated; no one could tell what it did. He was spared the discrimination against the quirkless in official terms, but for most other purposes he might as well be quirkless.
Still, he had found a way to work and put food on the table for his family. It wasn’t the worst, was it? Fat, rich women typically started babbling at him about what a nice boy he was, and how he reminded them of their nephews, and as a consequence he hadn’t had to do… that… yet.
Of course, that was no guarantee that he would never have to serve in that way. He had just been lucky so far. One day, his first time would come, and he would probably be crushed brutally under some middle-aged woman’s fat rolls. For work. As a job. He would have to smile at them, and assure them that they were sexy, and attractive, and good at what they did in bed. He hated lying.
It was demeaning, but then, with a dead father, invalid mother, and no useful quirk, what part of his life wasn’t demeaning?
A fist pounded on the dressing room door. “Get in the van! It’s leaving in 1 minute!”
Hurriedly, Izuku threw on the rest of the outfit. At least he was spared from being one of the actual male strippers; they were picked for sex first, always. Though he had heard that gave them higher tips as well, usually, it also exposed them to danger in other ways. Some clients would demand raw sex, or were into rough trade like strangulation or knifeplay, and they had dangerously little room to refuse. They were supposed to be big, strong men up for anything. That was what the clients paid for.
Izuku kept his head down and his thoughts to himself as they sped off to the private VIP party. Even if he complained, nothing would change. They would just be that much quicker to fire him. He glanced out at the shining, modern streets. He was infinitely replaceable. There was no lack of young men and women willing to sell their bodies to get by. Some of them might be sleeping under bridges or roadways they passed, even now.
The stars shone brightly overhead, but to Izuku, they were just distant points of light.