Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya was 14 when his dreams were shattered on a rooftop over the cityscape of his home town.
A Quirkless Hero? It’s both an illogical and impossible dream
Each step rang in Izuku Midoriya’s head, muffled by the rushing river of adrenaline that had broken the dam. It felt like he was on cloud nine, like he could take on the world and never fall once. The edge of the building he was left on sang a siren’s song, leaving him higher than ever possible. His eyes fell downwards as he reached the railing, focusing on anything he could spot out of the ordinary. Maybe it was that dumpster with the overflowing trash bags, or the awkwardly placed man-hole cover that was not up to code.
His feet moved to a symphony of explosions behind him, the call of the fall becoming overwhelming. It was just so close he could almost taste the sky above. He had gotten one foot over the railing when he felt the adrenaline drip from his body and came to the realization of what he was doing. Tripping as he scrambled off of the railing, Izuku landed hard on his butt. Wincing, he rubbed at his tailbone and tried to catch his bearings.
He had just tried to commit suicide, that much was obvious. The freedom he had felt by the railing was still echoing in his head, as if it was trying to call him back. The feeling of the wind in his curls was addictive, yes, but not addictive enough to die over. At least not today. Hands trembling, he gripped his school pants tight and tried to ignore the ache that came when he denied the urge to move. Today was not the day for this, even if it had seemed so perfect.
In fact, right now, he could list all the things he had to live for. His mom, of course, katsudon, and his notebooks. That brought a thought to him, distracting him from the ever so-present edge of the roof. If he had died, who would’ve gotten his notebooks? His mother who would’ve had no use for them and just kept them as memorabilia of a son who wasn’t strong enough? Or the police, who could use them as evidence of his stalkerish nature and incriminate him after death. Neither scenario sounded good, so Izuku sighed.
His trembling hands moved from his pants to his curly hair, running his fingers through it. It was a soothing method he had learned long ago, and as he tugged on a knot every now and then, helped to ground him. Pieces of what had just happened were slowly locking into place as he was gaining back his steady consciousness. Kacchan, his once best friend, had just told him to kill himself, and All Might, his biggest idol, had shattered his dreams. Right now, Izuku couldn’t even tell which had pushed him far enough over the edge.
Attempting to take deep breaths, the green-haired middle schooler stumbled to his feet. The first priority now was getting home, at the very least before his mom got worried. If he was quick enough, he could make up an excuse about getting caught in the middle of a villain attack. Adjusting the straps of his backpack, Izuku headed towards the nearest exit. This proved futile, however, as he pushed uselessly against the locked rooftop doorway. Who even locked these things? Shaking his head, Izuku tried to get a grasp on his surroundings.
There, he could thank building protocol for this later, was a fire escape attached to the side of the building. It wasn’t the best option for exiting but it would have to do. Slowly, he sidled down the red metal escape, pressing himself as close to the building as possible. He didn’t want to risk anything, especially not with the state of his mind at the moment. There was no telling what his body could try, with or without his mind’s volition. Instead of thinking too hard about it, Izuku focused on each step. It helped, at the least, as it seemed to get Izuku to the ground faster. Once he tumbled from the free-hanging bottom of the fire escape, he began to try and rationalize where he was.
At most, he was around fifteen minutes from home, and at least he was seven. Starting to head to a familiar skyscraper, Izuku found that he had pleasantly made his way home in a meager ten minutes. Instead, what took the longest time was even opening his apartment’s door. His fingers trembled as they were placed over the dull doorknob. What could he tell his mother? His lie about a villain attack, or would he have enough guts to be truthful? That he wasn’t strong enough on his own right now.
Trying to stave away his doubts, Izuku gripped the handle tight. It would do nothing to just stay in the hall and think of what-if scenarios. To stay in the here and now, he had to act, even if it meant ignoring the tremble he got near railings. Nudging the door to the apartment open, he was greeted with a heart-wrenching sight.
Sitting on the couch, the familiar stout figure of his mother was hunched over, a tissue clutched with white knuckles. Beside her was the taller figure of Bakugou Mitsuki, his ex friend’s explosive mother and his mother’s own best friend. The two stiffened, turning robotically towards the door. Once they spotted Izuku, that was enough for the waterworks his mother had dampened to act up once more. She began wailing, reaching for him. Quickly, he shuffled his backpack off of his shoulder and kneeled before her.
Her hands reached for his back, tugging him close while he just allowed her to cry. Once she had cried herself out, he pulled away and looked to the other woman in the room. Auntie Mitsuki sniffled, clearly having been crying herself, “Katsuki, the hard-headed idiot, was stuck in a villain attack today. He’s currently hospitalized with throat damage. If All Might hadn’t been there…” She trailed off, listless within her grief. Izuku understood what she meant, stiffening in his mother’s grip.
Bakugou could’ve died, was the staunch realization he came to, because Izuku was cowardly enough to hitch a ride on All Might’s leg. He could’ve killed his former best friend, because he was selfish enough to take away All Might’s attention on a villain. Trying to stamp on his guilt, at least before it breached his expression, Izuku grimaced. “Is he stable?” those were the only words he could get out at the moment. No words came from Auntie Mitsuki, however, as she just solemnly nodded her head. At this moment, Izuku didn’t expect many words, especially from the blonde-haired mother. Instead, he turned his attention to his own mother, who was tugging gently at his uniform sleeve.
Her voice was still shaky, but her wide green eyes were less watery, “We visited him, of course. He’ll be released in two days, since he’s high on the healer’s priority.” Izuku nodded, helping her to her feet. She had gained enough of her bearings from when she was sobbing, so he helped her carefully back over to the couch. This situation was extremely fragile, so instead of speaking, Izuku stayed quiet in an attempt to not dissuade the conversation. He could wait to talk to his mom, at least until Auntie Mitsuki left.
The conversation drifted from there, only being kept afloat by his mother. Izuku’s attention had been taken up by the T.V. and whatever childish cartoon show was playing now. His hands itched for something to write with as the show continued, showing obvious signs of having an underlying message that kids wouldn’t pick up on until years later. It didn’t matter though, because as the episode took to a close, Auntie Mitsuki stood in preparation to leave.
Izuku and his mother stood, seeing her out the door. When it had finally shut, silence descended onto the apartment. It had never been this awkward around his mother, but the underlying question between the two electrified the air with tension. Trying to resist the urge to sigh, Izuku turned to meet his mother’s gaze. Two strands of hair framed her face as she looked up to him, green eyes already asking enough. It didn’t hurt to wait, he presumed, as his mother already looked prepared to ask the question that was clearly eating her up.
The silence stayed for a heartbeat longer, and then his mother was ready to speak, “Izuku, I know it’s not the ideal time to ask but. Why were you so late coming home today?” Even though Izuku had been running the question through his head a thousand times as he walked home, it still struck him hard once she finally asked. Trying to settle his breathing, Izuku grasped for an answer. Finally, he decided on one.
“I was caught up with a villain attack, and the police questioning took longer than I anticipated,” the lie fell almost too easily from his lips, but if it saved his mother from too much grief then he would keep it up. It seemed to worsen his mother’s tension for a moment, until she relaxed the tension from her shoulders with a dismissive mutter. He couldn’t catch what he said, but he swore it sounded something like, “teenagers and being trouble magnets.” Deciding not to press the issue further, Izuku stood and departed for his room.
Just as he had stepped into the hallway, his mother called after him again, “Izuku, you’ll always tell me the truth right?” Trying to resist the urge to stiffen and make it obvious he had lied, Izuku slowly nodded towards her, “Of course Mom! You’re the first person I’d go to with the truth.” A simper decorated his lips, a desperate attempt to get her to stop probing. She seemed to get the message, nodding and murmuring to herself as she shuffled towards the kitchen. Izuku sighed, his body almost deflating as he stepped within the threshold of his room.
What he didn’t calculate, however, was his admonishing amount of All Might merch. It didn’t help his mood at all to see it, only making his fingers clench and stab his nails into his palms. Maybe it was time to update his room, but for now he would focus on something else. Something less destructive. Striding across his room, he stopped before his computer. Jiggling the mouse a little, he found he had left it open to the forum he frequented for analysis.
He enjoyed sharing his analysis online where it was anonymous, and he could actually be appreciated for a while. At least until the info fishers figured out his status as quirkless, but for now he was appreciated. That was all he could ask for. Shifting himself into his chair, he glanced around the monitor. A bright red caught his eyes, drifting them to his notifications box. There was a message from someone on the forums within.
HoardersHearts0: Hi this is AllMightAnayltic333 right?
HoardersHearts0: I was wondering if I could ask for a personal analysis
AllMightAnalytic333: Of Course! Is there any specific type you need
HoardersHearts0: Oh, you responded.
HoardersHearts0: Well, hm.
HoardersHearts0: Would you have any suggestions for dampening a quirk that has the hoarding instincts of a dragon?
HoardersHearts0: If there’s any way I could compensate you, could you inform me?
HoardersHearts0: I don’t wanna let you do this request for free
Payment? Izuku paused, fingers hovering over his keyboard. He had never considered taking payment for his analysis, seeing as they were more of a hobby than a job. Yet, he remembered, when he had been looking at hero agency jobs, he could remember seeing professional analysts. Maybe he could start making money off of this, instead of trying to get a job while quirkless. It would make helping his mother a whole lot easier as well.
AllMightAnalytic333: Would you be able to pay around 2000 yen?
HoardersHearts0: Absolutely! I would just need a way to send it.
Quickly, Izuku switched from the forum he was messaging on and began looking into online banking methods. It didn’t take long for him to come across one that would be helpful, his body moving already. He would need to talk to his mom about it, as it required minors to request their parents consent in connecting to their physical bank accounts. Cracking his door open, Izuku carefully listened for anything out of the ordinary.
He was greeted with the crackling of the kitchen, signifying where his mother was easily. At least he wouldn’t have to look for her now. Keeping his steps calm, Izuku placed his hand on the entrance to the kitchen, sniffing. It smelled of katsudon, which Izuku resisted the urge to drool at. To distract himself from the smell of food, and the subtle nausea that came with it, Izuku spoke. “Mom, can we set up an online bank account for me?” his voice wasn’t loud, but projected itself in a way to keep his mother from startling and hurting herself. Proving the method effective, Inko calmly paused in her cooking to turn to Izuku.
Her face wasn’t calm, but it was settled from what it had been just an hour or two earlier. Now that Izuku was focusing on her, he could see the tear tracks that carved through her face and tried to resist the urge to shiver. There was another beat of silence, one that Izuku hoped would dissolve soon, then Inko finally answered. “Of course we can, sweetheart. Why the sudden interest?” the question was innocent enough, a mother who wanted to ensure her son wasn’t doing anything illegal. Izuku himself, however, didn’t know if what he was doing was exactly legal though. He would look into that later.
“I just…” he paused, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, “started taking commissions online for some creative stuff. People really want to commission me and it made me realize I didn’t have a way to accept it.” His mother’s expression brightened as she nodded fervently, almost leaking with exuberance. She shuffled forwards, faster than he thought she could in the kitchen, and gripped his hands. Green beamed into green, a mirror reflection, as Inko kissed Izuku’s forehead, “We’ll set it up after dinner, alright? Just tell whoever commissioned you that it’ll be soon.” The murmur into his forehead helped relax him, and he felt his shoulders droop listlessly.
Separating from his mother’s grip, Izuku took off towards his room once more. This time, he could admit he had a little more pep in his step. There was at least one good thing coming from this day, even if it was a double-edged blade. People would find out about him from this, and he would have more work. Maybe he could convince his mother to let him drop out of school?
Almost immediately he dismissed the thought, stepping into the threshold of his room. His mother would want to know the exact reason why he wanted to drop out, and he wasn’t ready to confess to all the bullying. He more than likely never would.
Tugging his seat from the confines of his desk, Izuku turned to face his monitor once more. There was no new messages from HoardersHearts0 nor was there new ones from anyone else. Carefully switching to his inbox, he began drafting a new message to the would-be target of his analysis.
AllMightAnalytic333: Sorry to take so long, I should have an account shortly
HoardersHearts0: Take as long as you need!
HoardersHearts0: This isn’t exactly time-related
AllMightAnalytic333: Of course!
AllMightAnalytic333: Just a warning, my name will change soon
HoardersHearts0: Perfectly fine, thank you for the heads up.
Izuku grinned, excitement coursing through him. It didn’t erase the feelings from earlier, only serving as a dampening agent until the green-haired boy was ready to properly face them. Switching from his inbox to his profile, Izuku clicked at the little edit button. Immediately, he deleted the name he just held and instead began to think.
This was such a spur of the moment decision, but one term called out to him. As he finished changing his name, and a little bit of his bio, a voice called from outside of his room’s closed door. Dinner was ready, and then Izuku could finally take on his first commission.
HoardersHearts0: Probablity22, huh?
HoardersHearts0: nice choice.