Chapter Text
“Izuku, don’t forget your vitamins!” Inko gently reminds Izuku as he rushes to leave the house in time for school. “Got it, Mom!” He replies. It is the same old same old. Don’t forget your vitamins, Izuku, you can’t miss any. They help with the headaches, Izuku. They keep you healthy, Izuku. He knows. At this point, it is a never-ending mantra in his head. Three times a day he has to take those small pills. Once with each meal. Having felt the massive migraine caused by missing a dose one too many times he knows better than to let himself get distracted to the point of skipping a meal anymore. Trying to take them dry and on an empty stomach only leaves him worn out. It is not worth it.
Quirkless. Useless. Weak.
Nobody will let him forget his shortcomings. Not even his own mother. Inko means well, he can tell. She hugs him when he is too upset to hide it, cooks for him, gets him the things he needs to live, and attempts to enjoy life, but that doesn’t mean she sees him any differently from the teachers and kids at school. If anything, the looks she sometimes gives him when she thinks he isn’t paying attention hurts worse. One would think the person who birthed you wouldn’t look at you like that – with an uncomfortable twinge of fear in their expression. What she is afraid of, Izuku doesn’t know. It may be the fact that she worries something will happen to a defenseless child on their way to and from school each day. Or maybe she is afraid that one day his ‘vitamins’ – the doctor prescribed quirk suppressants - won’t be enough to keep his body safe. She fears for his weakness.
At least at home Izuku doesn’t need to worry about getting hurt. At home, he doesn’t need to be ever vigilant of his surroundings for unwanted threats. Those threats? Mostly just the other kids at school. The ones who know he can’t defend himself from them when they choose to let off steam. And the teachers? Well. The teachers just stand by and watch. After all, what is the point in helping him? As soon as they leave the school premises they will just continue where they left off, anyways. It is better to let it happen where they can make sure it doesn’t result in any…unwanted casualties.
What really gets him is when Kachan calls him a quirkless deku – because really, the dude was there when his quirk manifested! He is well aware that Izuku has an unregistered quirk, just as he is aware that it is for Izuku’s safety that he is prevented from having access to it. No, you need to stop calling him Kachan. It is Katsuki. Preferably Bakugo. You stopped being friends the day he decided being ‘cool’ in front of the other students was worth more than your lifelong memories.
As it turns out, today isn’t like any other day. The familiar feelings of rushing out of the apartment upon being reminded to take the medication and pushing through a rough school day do not last. Over the classroom speaker a static-filled voice states in a bored tone, “Would Izuku Midoriya come to the Principle's office, please?”
Izuku’s teacher raises an eyebrow at the request before nodding in Izuku’s direction and responding to the speaker, “He is on his way.” His fellow classmates shuffled and snickered, whispering to one another about what the useless boy is in trouble for this time. The greater their amusement grew, the greater Izuku’s anxiety. If he comes back to classes today it will no doubt end in a confrontation attempting to get the ‘juicy deets’ so it could be spread around and laughed about like the greatest joke in Japan.
-
“Have a seat, Midoriya” the office secretary stated when he walked into the reception room of the principal’s office. Izuku looked around, noting that nothing changed. The computer is the same old piece of junk barely able to remain powered on. The wall hangings have the same cheesy slogans of ‘even YOU can be a hero!’ and ‘until you spread your wings you’ll have no idea how far you can walk’. Yeah right. Like anyone at this school actually believe that. Poser posters.
The door to the office opens, interrupting Izuku’s train of thought. “Ah, Midoriya, please come in.” Izuku stands, slowly shuffling through the door and closing it behind him at the direction of the principal. Sitting in one of the two chairs across from the principal’s desk is a uniformed officer with a ginger tabby cat head. Seeing a policeman in a meeting where his presence is requested immediately sets off Izuku’s alarms. In his panic, Izuku is unable to stifle the muttering he has long since conquered, “Why is there an officer here? What do they think I did? Unless someone else did something and they think I know something about it…”
“Midoriya you are not in trouble.” The principal said, cutting off the quiet rant, “This is officer Sansa Tamakawa, he is here to speak with you about an urgent matter.”
Izuku bows slightly to the officer, whispering a slight, “h-hello”.
Tamakawa, a serious expression on his face, says, “Please take a seat, Midoriya.” Waiting a moment for Izuku to comply, he then continues, “I am sorry to say this, but…your mother was involved in a villain attack. She has been taken to the hospital.”
Izuku’s hands shook slightly the nerves that have been gradually growing all day coming to the forefront. Tears gathered at the corners of his glossy eyes as his face scrunched up. A hand raised to cover his mouth as he attempts to blink back the waterworks while looking down at his lap. Seeming to gather himself, he asks, “can I go there?”
Tamakawa swallowed, momentarily closing his eyes before responding. “I am authorized to accompany you there. Do you have any belongings to gather?”
Izuku nods, once again brushing an arm across his eyes in a fruitless attempt to dry them.
The principal looks between the two for a moment before determining the conversation is over. “You can go back to your class to get your things, then meet Officer Tamakawa back here to be properly dismissed for the day.”
Returning to class with obvious signs of waterworks only to grab his backpack and leave is not ideal. Jeers of ‘is he finally gone for good’ and ‘do you think he’s coming back’ follow Izuku out the door. He hears them, the words hurt as much as always, but right now his mom is more important than a few ignorant phrases.
-
No good things happen this day. Sitting in the waiting room, hoping for news of his mom, Izuku was distraught when a CPS agent sat by him accompanied by Officer Tamakawa and a nurse.
“Hi, Midoriya. How are you holding up?” Tamakawa asked.
“Tired. But I can’t sleep.” Izuku responds.
Nodding in understanding, he introduces the CPS agent. “This is Miss Aimi Akasuki. She is the child protection services agent assigned to your case.”
“My case?”
At this Miss Akasuki leans forward, looking Izuku in the eyes to say, “Yes, Midoriya. I am going to help find you somewhere to stay while your mom is here. The only emergency contacts listed for you are your Mother and Mrs. Bakugo. I have called her to inform her of the situation, but unfortunately, she is unable to take you in. Do you have any other family we can contact?”
Izuku slowly shakes his head, the seemingly endless tears once again gathering in his eyes.
“Ok. I am going to be right outside in the hall making a few calls.” Akasuki gently tells him.
Izuku curls into himself, uncaring about having his street shoes on the chair. Before leaving, Officer Tamakawa pats Izuku’s knee in a weak attempt at comfort. The nurse, being the last one, smiles painfully at the sad boy before saying, “I’m sorry you have to go through this. We will keep those looking after you informed of how Mrs. Midoriya is doing." Hardly acknowledging the nurse, Izuku lays his forehead against his knees waiting to hear of his fate.
Izuku finally manages to doze off in that uncomfortable ball of a position but is once again awoken by the return of Miss Akasuki.
“I’ve found a place for you. One of the group homes in the area luckily has space, so we don’t need to worry about you moving too far away from your current school and friends. Let’s go back to your home to pack a bag, then I’ll take you there.”
-
With a plastic garbage bag of necessities (and his notebooks – no way is he leaving the one comfort item behind that keeps him sane) Izuku stands with Miss Akasuki in front of a large brick building, waiting for the door to open. When it does, the pair are led inside by it’s head occupant and given a brief tour before Izuku is left alone with the stranger.
“Now then, I’ll take you up to your room. It is late, so we will go over house rules in the morning over breakfast before you head off to school. Your roommate should already be asleep given it is past curfew, so please be mindful when you are entering.”
Izuku could only nod, his vocal cords failing him in his distress at all the sudden changes in his life. Entering the room, he peers into the darkness attempting to discern which bed is unused. Right. It is the right one, closest to the door. Too tired to do anything else, Izuku dumps his bag under the bed and promptly falls asleep fully dressed in his day clothes.
-
Apparently, Mitsuki Bakugo had spoken with Katsuki about what has happened to Inko, because the next day instead of tormenting him during classes the abrasive boy ignores him, only occasionally side eying Izuku as if he were making sure the other boy is holding it together. It isn’t until the day ends that Katsuki deigns to speak with Izuku, simply saying, “I hope Auntie Inko will be ok.”
As confusing as it is for Izuku to see someone he is used to being hurt by show even a minor form of concern for him, he isn’t completely surprised. After all, his former childhood friend is just as attached to ‘Auntie Inko’ as Izuku is to ‘Aunt Mitsuki’. That is to say – like the other’s parent is family.
Three days of this routine. Three days of waking up, going to school, and returning to a home full of unfamiliar people and sounds. It took three days for Inko to loose the battle against her injuries. Now this new routine – one that was supposed to be temporary – that should never have happened in the first place – is permanent.
-
It doesn’t take much for an already emotionally hurt child to crack further. Not when their only support system is gone. At least Mr. Daisuke, the head of his group home, is a decent enough person. As long as Izuku causes no trouble the man lets him be, only checking in to take him to his continuing doctor appointments for quirk suppressant refills, providing food for him and the other children, and fulfilling the duty of signing paperwork. That isn’t to say the other youth at the home were pleasant. On the good days they ignored him. But it was still better than he know it could have been. They didn’t treat him as a completely useless quirkless person as they both knew that isn’t completely true. Mr. Daisuke keeps a tight leash on their actions.
None-the-less, Izuku no longer dreams of being a hero. At first, he thought that with a new home he’d have a new doctor, one who found an alternate solution to his health issues than simply throwing him on suppressants, but after reviewing his medical records and consulting with the doctor on why the medication was necessary Mr. Daisuke kept it up. Between the looks given if he pushes off the pills too long regardless of the impending pain and the constant bullying he faces at school (minus Katsuki – he seems to have decided continuing to hurt Izuku was not a good idea after Inko’s passing), Izuku deems such childish hopes pointless.
Today is the day of the general course entrance exams for UA. He may not want to go into the hero course anymore, but that doesn’t mean he won’t attempt to get into his favorite hero’s alma mater. Plus, UA also happens to be the only high school in reasonable travel distance to his home that accepts quirkless applicants. Izuku can argue the point all he wants – his registration status won’t be updated. After all, he can’t prove what his quirk is to the appropriate panel without being taken off the suppressants and, for some reason, neither his doctor nor guardian want that. Izuku is not bitter. Not at all. That’s a lie.
The exam is easy enough. Izuku feels confident he passes at least the academic requirements. What he is not certain of is if the school only claims to accept quirkless students in an effort to keep up a heroic appearance. It wouldn’t be the first time a place pretends to do so only for Izuku to be denied entry.
-
At the end of the day Izuku’s worrying is for nothing. A few weeks later he is opening a letter of acceptance, congratulating him on passing the exam with excellent marks. A month after the school year officially begins.