Chapter Text
All men are not created equal.
This is the reality of society that I learned at the age of four.
—
The wind blows harshly against the body of the airplane as it flies over the Pacific. The flight to America is long, hours passing as they leave their home in Japan to meet Izuku's father in America.
They eventually land in New York, the terminal bustling with noise and unfamiliar faces. Izuku’s mother, Inko, squeezes his hand as they spot Hisashi waving from the arrivals hall.
As they walk towards the car, Hisashi tries to break the silence with small talk about New York and American food. Izuku, eyes wide, soaks in the city’s sights.
Suddenly, a blare of horns. Tires screeching as something crunches, the world spinning. When Izuku comes to, the world is red, and his parents are still and silent. Izuku, dazed and bloodied, is alone.
shock-fueled screams break out across the airport as a crowd quickly gathers around the wreck.
Talia al Ghul, veiled and regal, is one of the many in the crowd. She glances at the carnage, pausing as she sees the small, shivering figure of Izuku on the curb, paramedics ignoring him in the chaos. A flicker of something, impulse, calculation. She bends down, her shadow falling over Izuku.
“You have no one left?” Talia asks the boy in his native language.
Izuku, numb, nods his head.
“Then you will come with me.”
She extends her hand. Izuku hesitates, then takes it.
—
Izuku’s days quickly become a blur of lessons and bruises. He is taught to fight, to run, to disappear. He learns languages from stern tutors, anatomy from cold doctors, and survival from merciless trainers.
Izuku, while younger than the others, is battered but unyielding, motivation to grow allowing him to get up after each fall.
Talia personally meddles in his curriculum, directly assigning his teachers. Months quickly pass, spending day and night memorizing maps and ciphers, books upon books of information. He spars with trained assassins, adapting to their moves, never quite winning, but never breaking.
He never does develops a quirk. But after all he has learned, it's the last thing on his mind.
—
Several months into Izuku's stay at Nanda Parbat, Damian is “born.” Now a brother, Izuku dedicates himself even harder to learning as much as he can.
—
Years passed, and Izuku, now a seasoned apprentice, is tasked with guiding Damian. He helps with teaching him to read, to fight, to think strategically, and many others.
In the training room, Damian scowls as Izuku corrects his stance. They spar, each trying to outdo the other. Over time, mutual respect develops. Izuku becomes Damian’s confidant, mentor, brother, and closest friend.
Ra’s observes from above, never acknowledging Izuku as family, but recognizing his value as Damian’s teacher.
—
Damian scowls, “You’re holding it wrong. That’s not what Mother showed me.”
“Your stance is too rigid. You’ll lose your balance if someone sweeps your legs.” Izuku states.
“You are not my brother. You are not even blood.” Damian yells. Izuku shrugs, adjusting Damian’s posture. “That does not matter. You’re stuck with me anyway.”
“Tt. I don’t need your help.” Izuku smirks, “Then prove it. Try to land a hit.”
They spar, and Damian manages to nick Izuku’s arm. Izuku grins, proud. “See? Better already.”
—
Prague, Czech Republic, Winter, 3:17 AM
Izuku crouched on the slanted copper roof of a centuries-old townhouse, his breath ghosting in the chill wind. The city was a maze of narrow streets and black river water, old stone and new glass, the kind of place where secrets had made their home. He counted the footsteps below, watched the flicker of a guard’s cigarette through a rain-streaked window, and waited.
He was small for his age, wiry and sharp-eyed, with hair cropped close and clothes dark enough to disappear in any alley. The League had made sure of that. They’d made sure of everything.
He slid a gloved hand into his jacket and checked the time on the battered wristwatch Talia had given him. He had seven minutes before the next patrol circled the block. Plenty.
He dropped from the roof, landing silently as a falling leaf in the wet gutter behind the estate. Across the courtyard, a single security light buzzed, throwing a pale arc of yellow over the rear servants’ entrance. The window above was cracked open, just as it'd been left earlier in the night.
He moved quickly, fingers finding the edge of the drainpipe, boots braced for the climb. The metal was slick but sturdy. He ascended in near silence, pushing up with knees and toes, arms flexing with the easy strength of relentless training. At the top, he paused, listening for the scrape of shoes or the rustle of fabric, anything to suggest he’d been detected. Nothing.
He slipped through the window, dropping lightly onto the hardwood floor of the upper study. The room smelled of paper, ink, and the faint ozone tang of the aged light fixtures. He scanned the space: antique desk, glass cases full of books and curios, his gaze following towards a safe set into the wall behind a faded tapestry.
The League’s target was simple: obtain the dossier locked in the safe. The client, a man he’d never met, whose name he’d only seen once in a coded briefing, wanted the information on a politician’s contacts, proof of something that would topple a government or start a war or make a fortune. Izuku didn’t care. His job was to retrieve, not to judge.
He padded across the room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard he’d mapped out hours before. At the desk, he pulled a slim pouch from his belt and unrolled a set of lockpicks, tools he’d mastered before he could read.
The safe was old, mechanical, but well-maintained. He pressed an ear to the cold steel, turning the dial with slow, measured precision. The tumblers whispered secrets to him, each click a step closer. Twenty seconds later, the lock yielded with a soft click. He swung the door open.
Inside, the dossier rested atop a stack of passports and a pistol. He took only the folder, slipping it into a waterproof bag and tucking it against his back. He left everything else untouched.
He checked the hallway—empty. He moved with purpose now, retracing his steps to the window, pausing only to listen for any change in the house’s rhythm. The League had drilled him in hundreds of languages, dozens of accents, the art of blending in and vanishing before anyone knew he was there. He, he spoke flawless Czech, could mimic the cadence of a street vendor or a bored aristocrat. But tonight, he was a ghost.
Back on the roof, he flattened himself against the tiles as a security guard passed below, a flashlight beam sweeping the yard. Izuku counted down, then dropped to the gutter, rolled, and vanished into the alley. He navigated by instinct: left at the crumbling arch, right past the dumpster, a quick hop over a locked garden gate. Within two minutes, he was three streets away, face shadowed by his hood, posture slouched into the nondescript gait of a local boy out too late.
He ducked into a shuttered shopfront, peeled off his gloves, and checked the dossier. The League’s instructions were precise: verify the documents, then deliver. He scanned the pages, mind flickering through languages—Russian, French, German—absorbing names, dates, bank codes, and memorizing key details in case he ever needed to recall them.
Satisfied, he resealed the bag and moved on. He passed two police cars—one idling at a corner, the other parked outside a bar. Neither gave him a second glance. He’d chosen his disguise well: black boots, a battered hoodie, the kind of face nobody remembered the next day.
At the rendezvous, a church square empty except for frozen puddles and the statue of a saint with a broken nose, he waited. The contact was a man in his thirties, face hidden behind a scarf, eyes sharp with paranoia.
Izuku said the code phrase in flawless Polish, watched the man’s shoulders relax, and handed over the bag.
The man nodded, slipped him a coin—a League marker, cold and heavy in Izuku’s palm—and vanished into the dark.
Mission complete.
Izuku lingered a moment, watching the man’s retreat. He let the silence of the city fill him. He felt no triumph, no excitement—just the dull, familiar satisfaction of a job done right. He’d been here before, in cities all across the world: London, Istanbul, Marrakesh, Hong Kong. Each mission was different, but the shapes of the night never changed.
He turned and melted into the city, already planning his route back to the safehouse. He would report in, clean his gear, and write a mission summary for Talia or Ra’s or whichever handler was assigned tonight. Then he would sleep—a few hours, maybe—before rising to train again.
He moved through Prague like a shadow, never stopping, never lingering, always alert. A stray dog barked somewhere in the dark. Izuku ignored it, slipping past neon-lit storefronts and shuttered cafes, blending into the ebb and flow of the city’s sleepless night.
He didn’t think about the people in the house, the consequences of the documents he’d stolen, the lives that might change or end because of what he’d done. That wasn’t his concern. He was a tool, a whisper in the dark, a name only spoken in code.
He’d been raised for this.
And tonight, once again, the world would wake up changed, never knowing who had passed through its shadows.
—
Many more missions are assigned to him, including infiltrations in embassies, gathering secrets, and eliminating targets. Each mission hones his skills and hardens his resolve.
After one of said missions, he arrives back at base to the sight of Talia dragging a boy to the pit. Izuku watches from afar, wary of the scene before him. The pit bubbles as the boy falls in, Jason, as he soon learns, emerges screaming.
—
In the weeks that follow, Jason is unpredictable and violent, lashing out at anyone who approaches. However, Izuku is unafraid. They train together, silent at first.
Jason grudgingly states, “You fight like a Bat.” Izuku smirks, “I learn fast.”
They bond over shared pain, slowly becoming brothers-in-arms. Damian begrudgingly interacts with Jason, but the three form a quick bond of trust.
On one afternoon, Jason asked him, “Why do you stick around here? The League isn’t exactly the nicest place to grow up.”
“Maybe, but it’s all I have left.” Izuku quietly responds.
Jason nods in understanding, “Yeah. I get that.”
—
When he's 12, he's back in America on a mission. Late at night, Izuku hides in the shadows, earpiece crackling. He's walking back towards the meeting point when he walks past a newsstand. The Joker is out of Arkham Asylum. Memories of Jason’s stories, his death, and his pain all flood back.
Izuku makes the easiest decision in his life.
—
Quickly arriving in Gotham's deserted street, The Joker’s goons are fighting the Bats amid chaos. Izuku slips through shadows, unsheathes his sword. He approaches from behind. One swift motion, and the Joker’s head falls, rolling across the road.
Silence ensues as the Joker's laughs vanish with his life.
The bats are in shock, “He… killed the Joker.” Nightwing says, finally breaking the tension of the now barren and void street.
Batman huffs, taking in the garment on the assassin's body, staring at the figure standing over the Joker's limp corpse.
They quickly converge, disarming and restraining the assassin. Izuku surrenders without resistance.
Izuku, restrained and without his weapons, stares steadily at his captors.
“Why are you here? Why does the league want the Joker gone?” Batman quickly interrogates. They question him about the League’s intentions.
Izuku reveals, “I acted alone, the League has no idea that I'm here.”
“You're with the league of assassins. We have no reason to believe you.” Izuku stares blankly, “and I have no reason to talk, Wayne, yet I am. You know the league's codes, yes? Then you know that we are not supposed to talk in interrogations, yet I am.”
Batman quickly grows tense as Izuku speaks, “How do you know who I am?” he demands.
“It is not as if Talia was evasive with your identity,” Izuku deadpans. “How do you know her?” The bats grow more frustrated and confused, as Izuku grows bored.
Nightwing asks, “You know what you just did, kid?” Izuku yells, “I avenged my brother.”
“We will take him to the cave,” Batman quickly turns away from the assassin, while Dick is signaled to grab him. Izuku remained tight-lipped for the rest of the journey.
They soon make their way into the Batcave, Izuku being set limply against the floor.
“Private meeting, Robin, watch him,” Batman bluntly states. Robin sighs but listens, grabbing a chair and sitting next to the assassin as the remainder of the bats follow after Batman into another area.
Tim smugly asks, “So, League of Assassins, huh? Honestly, you don’t look the part.” Izuku, deadpan, “The cave’s décor could use some work.” Tim smirks, “Are you always this mouthy with your kidnappers?”
A snarky back-and-forth ensues, an unexpected camaraderie forming.
—
Bruce, Dick, Cass, enter a soundproofed room, Babs joining in over comms.
“We need to figure out what to do with him,” The Bat says. “He knows our identities and was able to kill the Joker. He cannot be left on his own.”
Cass claims, “He is young.” She continues, “He is like me.”
“Hmph,” Bruce sighs at the ensuing headache. “He’s too dangerous to let go.”
“He's too young,” Babs quickly counters, “He’s already betrayed the League. If we let him go, he may not be welcomed back.”
“Then what are you suggesting we do?” Bruce's eyebrow is raised beneath the cowl.
“We can always keep him, it's not like we're hurting for space,” Dick quickly replies.
“We can't just keep an assassin,” Bruce frowns. “Kept me,” Cass smiles back. Bruce sighed and pinched the skin between his brows.
With a decision made, they return to where Izuku and Tim are sitting.
When they arrive, Bruce says, “We will let you go. You are allowed to go back to the league, although I doubt they will take you without repercussions. However, you have a place here, if you want it.” Izuku remains quiet, eventually saying, “I’d like that.”
“Welcome to the family,” Tim says while untying his binds.
—
Izuku decides to name his vigilante person “Magpie.” He had a tight, black armored suit with teal and white accents, and a hooded cape hung from his shoulders. The bat logo sat square on his chest.
Steph ends up joining the brigade soon after.
—
The gym echoed with the sound of fists on punching bags. Dick watched as Izuku ran through a kata, posture perfect, movements sharp and precise.
“Not bad,” Dick said, tossing him a towel. “But you don’t need to do everything by the book. Sometimes improvising is your best move.”
Izuku wiped his brow, frowning. “The League didn’t allow mistakes.”
Dick grinned, hopping up to perch on a beam overhead. “Well, we’re not the League. Here, it’s okay to try, and it’s okay to fail.”
He leaped down, landing lightly, and offered his hand. “Let’s try something new. Trust fall.”
Izuku hesitated, but nodded. Slowly, Izuku turned his back and fell. Dick caught him, barely stumbling under the weight. Izuku laughed for the first time.
“See?” Dick said, ruffling Izuku’s hair. “We’ve got you.”
—
Steph plopped onto the couch, remote in hand. “Okay, team, movie night! Izuku gets first pick.”
Izuku scanned the pile of DVDs, uncertain. “I haven’t seen most of these. What’s ‘The Princess Bride’?”
Dick gasped. “You’ve never!! Oh, we are fixing that right now.”
They queued up the film. Izuku sat between Cass and Dick, clutching a bowl of popcorn. By the time the credits rolled, he was quoting lines with the others, laughing harder than he had in years.
Tim grinned. “Inconceivable!”
Izuku grinned back. “You keep using that word—”
Dick cheered. “He’s officially family!”
—
Months after Izuku's departure from the league, Jason returns to Gotham as the Red Hood. After finding out his identity, Batman confronts him.
“Is that what you think this is about?” Jason shouted at Bruce, “You letting me die? I don't know what clouds your judgment worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality. Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why, why on God's earth is he still alive?”
“Jason-” Jason interrupted, “Joker’s still out there, and you’re—” Izuku jumped out into view. “Jason,” he shouted, “please, can we just talk for a moment?”
“Izuku?” Jaason looked at him in shock and confusion, “What are you doing here?”
“Please just let us explain,” Izuku pleaded. Jason resigned. “Fine.”
He sighed, “I already killed him, that's why I'm here.” Jason is speechless, then sighs, “Of course you did, well fuck.”
Jason walks up to the bats, “You better give me a full explanation back at the cave.” Bruce looked hopeful, “You're coming back?”
“Only temporarily, I need to know what the hell this moron did while I was away.” Izuku could've sworn he saw the hint of a smile on Bruce's face.
The Batcave was quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of machinery and the gentle trickle of water echoing through the cavernous space. Bruce stood at the main console, reviewing reports, while Dick and Tim sat quietly, trying to ease their way next to Jason. He looked tired, his eyes shadowed, but his jaw was set with familiar stubbornness.
Jason didn’t waste time. “So what the hell happened while I was gone? The information the league gave me sure as hell wasn't all that accurate.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Bruce stepped forward, his shadow looming behind him.
Jason stared, turning towards izuku “What exactly did you do?”
Izuku’s smile faded, replaced by something older, more tired. “I did what needed to be done. For you.”
Jason let out a slow breath, anger draining from his posture. He ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly very young and very old at the same time. “You… you really did it?” Izuku nodded.
Jason barked out a tired laugh. He shook his head, a crooked smile breaking through. “Of course. Leave it to you to do the one thing none of us ever could.” Dick mumbled, “Hey! I tried”
Izuku shrugged again, awkwardly facing the ground. “Just figured you deserved some peace.”
For a moment, the cave was silent except for the faint drip of water. Then Jason stepped forward and, in a rare gesture, clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder.
“Thanks, kid,” he said quietly. “I mean it.”
Dick grinned, tension breaking. “Guess you’re stuck with us now, littlewing.”
Jason rolled his eyes, but the old edge was gone. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me.”
Izuku smiled, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. For the first time in a long while, the cave felt almost like home to the bats.
—
Gotham’s rooftops were slick with rain, neon lights shimmering in every puddle. The Batfamily was out in force. Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Steph patrolled the East End after a series of burglaries. Izuku, codenamed Magpie, moved in the shadows nearby.
They regrouped on a rooftop overlooking Crime Alley. Bruce scanned the cityscape, voice clipped through the comms. “Keep sharp. Whoever’s been doing these break-ins is skilled.”
Oracle talked over coms. “I’ve got motion sensors tripped, two blocks north—wait, that’s odd. They’re moving fast.”
A shadow darted across the adjacent roof. A small, dark figure silhouettes the sky. Before anyone could react, the newcomer dropped down in front of them with the grace of a cat, sword gleaming at his hip.
Dick’s escrima sticks snapped into his hands. “Uh, guys? Are we expecting ninja cosplay tonight?”
Bruce stiffened, recognizing the League insignia on the boy’s tunic. “Do not engage.”
The boy straightened, face impassive under the hood. Damian, barely ten, but eyes cold and sharp, surveying the Batfamily with mild disdain.
Tim edged closer to Bruce. “Is that a kid?”
Jason, perched on a roof above, grinned. “Told you Gotham’s welcoming committee was overrated.”
Izuku stepped forward, heart in his throat, but smiling. “Youre here”
Damian nodded curtly, gaze flicking to Jason. “Tt. The flight was tiresome. Security was laughable.”
Steph gaped. “Wait, Magpie, do you know this kid?”
Izuku nodded, voice gentle. “Everyone, this is… Damian. He’s my brother.”
Dick blinked. “Your brother?”
Damian lifted his chin. “I am Damian al Ghul. Son of Talia. And—” he glanced at Bruce, eyes narrowed, “—of Batman.”
A heavy silence fell. Bruce’s jaw clenched, pain and realization flickering across his face.
Tim whispered, “No way.”
Damian scowled, arms folded. “If you’re going to stand there gawking, at least do it somewhere less exposed. This city’s criminals are pathetically noisy.”
Jason let out a bark of laughter. “He fits right in, B.”
Izuku grinned, relief and pride shining. “He’s here to stay. With us.”
Bruce stepped forward, voice rough. “Damian… you’re safe here. If you want to be.”
Damian’s mask slipped, just for a moment. He glanced at Izuku, a silent question in his eyes. Izuku nodded, reassuring.
Damian took a deep breath and stood a little closer to his brother. “I’ll judge that for myself.”
Dick sheathed his sticks, a slow smile spreading. “Well, guess family game night just got more interesting.”
As the patrol regrouped, Damian fell in step beside Izuku, Gotham’s lights flickering in their eyes. For the first time, Damian’s shoulders relaxed, just a little.
And above, Jason watched, grinning, as the Batfamily quietly expanded by one.
—
In Wayne Manor during the late afternoon. Damian and Izuku are in the training room, going through drills. Dick watches from the sidelines, making notes on a clipboard.
Damian frowns, pausing mid-strike. “These mats are inferior. The League’s facilities were at least triple the density.”
Dick laughs. “That’s because we prefer not to destroy our knees by age twenty, little D.”
Izuku grins, tossing a towel to Damian. “Besides, the springiness is perfect for nap breaks. Right under the window, best sun in the manor.”
Damian rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” Izuku laughs, a smile coming to his face.
—
Tim frowns. “You can’t just overwrite my algorithms, Damian! That’s not how we do things.”
Damian, chin high, “Your security protocols are outdated. I improved them.”
Izuku steps between them, hands up. “Maybe you should team up for the next simulation. The winner gets Alfred’s cookies.”
Tim and Damian exchange a competitive look.
“Deal. You in, Demon Spawn?” Tim antagonizes “Tt. Prepare to lose, Drake.”
Izuku sighs, but smiles as they move to the simulator together.
—
In the Batcave, on a Saturday afternoon. Steph is drawing a scoreboard on a whiteboard. Teams are picked at random: Duke and Izuku, Tim and Steph, Damian and Dick.
Steph cheerfully shouts, “First challenge: Obstacle course, then trivia, then stealth tag!”
“Winner gets bragging rights and the last slice of Alfred’s pie,” Dick states.
Duke bumps fists with Izuku. “Let’s show them what we can do.”
Izuku beams. “We’ll win. I have a plan.”
“I will not lose to you, Drake.” Tim taunts, “We’ll see.”
The games are chaotic, filled with laughter and playful trash-talking. In the end, Duke and Izuku won by a single point.
Steph shouts in mock outrage. “Cheaters! I demand a rematch!”
—
Out on patrol, they land on a warehouse rooftop. Magpie and Robin perch, watching the goons below.
Damian whispers, voice tense, “They’re using a two-point breach.”
Izuku nods. “I’ll draw the leader. You take the back entrance.”
You trust me?” Damian asks. Izuku replies “More than anyone.”
They move. The mission is a success. Later, Bruce joins them on the roof.
“Good work. Both of you.” Bruce compliment's.
Damian looks away, cheeks flushed.
—
late at night in the Wayne Manor Library. Izuku sits at a desk, a Gotham Academy textbook open in front of him, but his eyes are distant. Damian is asleep in the armchair nearby, a book slipping from his hand.
Izuku absently traces the hem of his sleeve. He glances at the family photos on the bookshelf, one of a recently hired Alfred, another of Bruce and Dick when he was taken in, and every other member of the family, including the newest photo, one of the whole Batfamily squeezed together, grinning after a movie night.
Izuku sat there deep in his thoughts, "I never thought I’d have this. A large family or people who trust me. But I keep thinking about Japan. What could have been, about my mom and the hope she always had for me."
He remembers evenings in Musutafu, watching All Might on TV, his mother’s gentle encouragement, “You can be a hero too, Izuku.”
He whispers to himself, “I’ve learned so much here, how to protect people, how to be part of a team. But I still want to save people with a smile. I want to see if I can do it, the way I always hoped. Not as a weapon. Not as an assassin. As a hero.”
Izuku pulls up the UA High School website on his laptop, heart pounding. The entrance exam requirements look daunting, but he’s faced worse. He starts making a list of what he needs to study. He'd have to catch up on his Japanese, advanced math, hero and quirk laws, etc…
Damian stirs, blinking sleepily. “What are you doing up?”
Izuku smiles, closing the laptop. “Thinking about the future.”
Damian yawns. “You’re always thinking. Don’t forget to sleep sometimes.”
Izuku laughs softly. “Yeah. But I think I finally know what I want.”
He looks out the window, the city lights glowing from a great distance, and feels hope rising in his chest.
—
The weeks pass quickly, summer ending as soon as it started. Izuku still had several months until he would be able to apply for UA, meaning he still had plenty of time to figure out how he'd bring it up to the family. With the Japanese school year not starting until April, that left him with over 6 months left to learn all he’d need to know.
Izuku studied and trained harder than he had in years. Time quickly caught up with him, as he realized he'd still need to ask about joining UA. Deciding he'd procrastinated it enough, he made his way towards Bruce's office.
Late in the evening, Bruce is in his study reviewing case files. He pauses when he hears the hesitant knock at the door.
“Come in,” he permits
Izuku enters, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. Bruce glances up, softening slightly at the sight, “Can’t sleep?”
Izuku shook his head, “Hey, B, not really. I- I have something I want to talk to you about.”
Bruce sets aside his papers, giving Izuku his full attention. “Take a seat, Izuku.”
Izuku sits, taking a deep breath. “ So I’ve been thinking a lot lately, like for months actually. About everything I’ve learned here, and… what I want to do with it. I’m really grateful to all of you. For you, I mean. You gave me a family and a home and-”
“You’ve earned your place here,” Bruce interrupts.
Izuku nods, voice trembling just a little, “I know. That’s why this is hard. I want to go back to Japan and apply to UA High School, specifically for the hero course. I want to try being a hero, not just a vigilante. I want to help people the way I always dreamed, before everything happened.
Bruce is quiet for a moment, studying Izuku’s face. “You’ve thought this through?”
“I have. I’ve started studying for the entrance exam, and I’m working on my Japanese again. I know I don’t have a meta ability, so it’ll be harder for me there, but I want to try. Even if I fail, I want to know I gave it everything.”
Bruce softened, a rare smile touching his lips, “That’s all anyone can ask. Why UA specifically?”
Izuku ranted, “It’s the best. It’s where All Might went. My mom, she always wanted me to go there. I want to make her proud, and I want to see if I can really become a hero.
Bruce leans back, folding his arms, looking at Izuku with pride. ”You know, when I was a bit older than you, I left Gotham for training. It takes courage to leave everything you know behind. I won’t stand in your way. In fact, I’ll help you with whatever you need—papers, recommendations, travel.
Izukus widened, a wide smile coming to his face.”You mean it?”
Bruce nods, “I do. If this is what you want, you have my blessing. And you’ll always have a home here, no matter where you go.”
Izuku stands and, in a rare show of emotion, hugs Bruce tightly. Bruce hesitates only a moment before embracing him back.
Izuku whispers softly, “Thank you, Dad.”
Bruce faltered a bit at his words before finally regaining his composure, “Go be a hero, Izuku.”