Chapter Text
“If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life, go take a swan dive off the roof!”
Bakugou, or Kacchan as he still affectionately called him, spit out then laughed, as he and his friends left Midoriya alone. A silence followed, so loud his ears rang and filled to the brim with the echoing words.
While his unkindness was absolutely not uncommon, even when they were friends all those years ago, he had certainly not been the kindest. These days he had been walking the line from mean to downright cruel. Today that line was spit on, kicked, and left for dead, kind of literally.
Immediately an explosion of feeling burst in his chest, the rolling of the mushroom cloud consumed his throat, then muddled his brain. The sadness that he would be resigned to a life of cruelty. The frustration he felt knowing he never did anything other than exist to deserve this, and although he knew, he couldn’t understand why. Anger, because he knew he was being treated so unfairly. Most of all however was this indescribable feeling, one he had struggled his whole life to put a name to. It tasted disgustingly familiar in his mouth, like the day-old rice balls the school had made him eat for months straight, while everyone else got all the good stuff. A crushing and humbling real-life metaphor that whispered something about him not deserving the good stuff, because he himself wasn’t good stuff. No, Izuku was the day-old rice ball, poorly cooked and untouched out of disgust.
Sometimes it felt like all these feelings were pushing on the inside of his rib cage, threatening to break him apart, other times it was a hand around his neck, squeezing tight. At all times, Izuku longed for relief. The most damning part was the feeling he got from the inevitability of it all. No, not feeling, the knowledge that it would always be like this.
His strings of life were signed and sealed by the fates themselves the day he was diagnosed as quirkless. In a generation of power, the world spared none for him. In a crowded room, Izuku could almost feel all the quirks in the room, with a warm buzz under his skin. Mocking him, like the rhyme of the ancient mariner, “water water everywhere but not a drop to drink”. And that divine damning diagnosis; his own scarlet letter, it felt like he wore it on his chest for all to see, all to mock. The word was used so much around him, his ears became a net, every whisper caught in the trap.
It was days, moments, like these, where the craving for death was sweet like the Twizzlers his dad sent him from America before he faded off somewhere, probably ashamed of his quirkless son.
“Breathe Izuku, use this as motivation, you will become a hero, you have to,”
This was his mantra, for the sweet like Twizzlers moments, for the days he wished he could fade off like his father had.
Yes, he had been wished dead many times before, but somehow from Kacchan, the one person he still somehow looked up to, he felt like a bug hitting a windshield.
Maybe one day the wipers and washing fluid would finally wipe him away.
“I'll still be a hero,” he muttered before going to retrieve the notebook Kacchan had kindly burned and tossed out a window.
And thus the walk home. Today his shoes felt heavier than normal, and his burnt notebook weighed 100 extra pounds. The world felt empty. Like Izuku would forever be going through this life by himself. And every moment was a fight just to survive. Being alive weighed heavily on his muscles. Akin best to a dream where you stay paralyzed, and the monster is coming, but you’re stuck, no one can hear you calling for help, you can’t seem to shout loud enough anyway, and you can’t help yourself, you just will yourself to awaken. Except this wasn’t a dream, and Izuku had woken up to his reality long ago.
He couldn’t let himself feel that way, that's not how he’d be a hero, he needed to be more like All Might, always smiling, always confident in the face of adversity.
As he smiled wide and laughed out, more to mask the sound of frustration pent up from the day, he was caught completely by surprise.
If you asked Izuku to retell this story, he really wouldn’t have been able to. One moment he was under a tunnel, then next consumed by sentient mud, swallowing him whole, his mouth and nose drowning in it.
He fought as hard as he knew how, ripping at the liquid fruitlessly.
His world was getting darker, and his arms got heavy. Something inside him begged him to let it consume him, permanently. And he did.
Then, he was awake, alive, on the ground, mud out of sight. All Might, however… in sight.
“Thought we lost you there!” The larger-than-life man in front of him boomed, holding his hand out.
At the sight of his lifelong hero, Izuku could only manage a yelp.
“Well, looks like you're moving around all right. Sorry about that back there. I didn't mean to get you caught up in my justice-ing. Usually, I pay more attention to keeping bystanders safe. But it turns out this city's sewer system is pretty difficult to navigate!” All Might let out a bold laugh.
“Anyway, you were a big help. Thank you! I've captured the evil-doer!”
Any feeling of angst and the pain in his own body seemed to completely melt away in an instant, his brain almost recalibrated. Maybe, his luck was turning, and on his worst day, his idol came to save him. This had to be a sign! Izuku scrambled for his notebook for All Might to sign,
“Please sign my notebook!” He shoved the burnt book out in front of him. Almost like magic, the book was already signed!
“Thank you so much! This will be an heirloom, a family treasure passed down for
generations to come!” His hands shook with some cocktail of adrenaline and excitement, he looked up and All Might was smiling back, at him no less.
“Uh-huh! Well, I've gotta get this guy to the police so they can take care of him. Stay out of trouble, see you around!” All Might began to walk away and prepare to leap away.
“Wait... you're leaving? Already?” Izuku’s heart dropped, he needed to ask, he needed to know what All Might would say…
“Pro heroes are constantly fighting time as well as enemies! Now stand back, I'm taking off!”
Without even a second thought, Izuku leaped and grabbed on, tight, and suddenly he was in the air. Once All Might had noticed, he tried to shake Izuku off, and Izuku’s heart was in his throat.
“No way, we're flying! If I let go now, I'll die!” He screamed out, desperately hoping All Might had heard him through the ripping sound of the wind.
Soon All Might had found a rooftop to land upon safely. The landing was rough, but Izuku was too dazed to even have noticed, or to notice All Might’s violent cough. There was no time to be dazed, he had a question he needed to ask. He could only believe in himself so much, but if All Might said he could do it, then nothing could stop him. If All Might could see past his damnation, that maybe he wasn’t truly damned, maybe he had hope for salvation, he could be a hero.
“I have to know! Is it possible to become a hero, even if I don't have a Quirk? I'm a normal kid without any powers. Could I ever hope to be someone like you?”
It was far too silent.
Izuku went on mumbling, maybe if he knew his story a little more, All Might would get it, and he would understand and tell him he could be a hero.
All Might began to cough violently and Izuku trailed off. Before he could ask if he was okay, suddenly All Might disappeared into a puff of smoke, and in his tracks left behind a sickly man. His eyes were deeply sunken in, blood dripped from his mouth, and the classic All Might suit hung loosely on his boney frame. Izuku couldn't register, had he been a fake all along? Some All Might Impersonator? Anger bubbled up at the idea of an imposter, and Izuku, against any of his typical manners or shyness, called him out. This imposter could have gotten him in more trouble than he could wish to be, a quirkless boy with an All Might fake? They would drag his name through the mud, more than usual. ‘All Might’ insisted that it was him.
“You know how guys at the pool are always suckin' in and flexin' and tryin' look buff? I'm like that.”
“This can't be real! No. I'm dreaming. All Might's a giant of a man who saves everyone. He defeats all obstacles, and wins the day with a fearless smile.”
“There's plenty of fear behind that smile. I'm counting on you to keep your mouth shut. Don't go talking about this online or telling your friends.”
Something about that statement made a pit of fear grow in Izuku’s chest. Fear behind that smile, behind the smile of the greatest man to live, something about that horrified Izuku. If even All Might felt fear then… Well, Izuku knew firsthand that this world was not a kind one. All Might proceeded to show him his scar from the battle that nearly took his life, he detailed how he had lost a majority of his organs, and how his hero work was cut to only three hours a day due to his extensive injuries. Izuku now understood that this was indeed All Might. Seeing him like this, even though not his famous form, made him all the more real, he wasn't just a worldly idol, he was a true hero. It made pride swell in Izuku’s heart, that one day he could be a true hero, just like All Might.
In a moment, that thought was decimated.
“Some villains just can't be beaten without powers. So, can you be a hero? Not without a Quirk.
You can’t be a hero.”
There was a fat silence, Izuku waited for the ‘but’. It never came. If the man had said anything else, Izuku never would have known.
Then his hero, now a skeleton before him, walked down the staircase of the rooftop and left.
Izuku lost feeling in his fingers and toes. He literally felt his heart shatter and sink to his stomach. The world stayed completely silent, and the clouds rolled overhead voraciously.
He never turned around to change his mind. His mom never came to reassure him. And there was no Kacchan to say he was wrong. He was alone, not even a fucking quirk to stick with him.
If All Might didn’t believe it, then it simply was impossible. If the man who inspired hope in all, didn’t even have hope for Izuku, then how could Izuku continue to hope for himself. And if he couldn’t become a hero, that means it would always be like this. The torture of living without a quirk. The dread that filled his gut each and every day was never going to leave. Izuku's dreams of being a hero had allowed him to suffer, it was his light at the end of the tunnel, a promise that the torment would one day end. But like a mirage, there was no beautiful oasis, just miles of hot dry desert. His diagnosis was a death certificate, there would be absolutely no value to his life, not when there was not an ounce he could contribute to this world.
Suddenly he craved the sweet Twizzlers.
He looked out to the rooftop edge.
He could continue to live this useless awful life, where he’d be resigned to being hated and treated like a bag of shit, day after day after wretched day. Or he could eat the fucking Twizzlers.
Suddenly his body ached for it. The same way it aches to sit after you’ve been running for miles. And shit, every painful second of Izuku's life was a dead sprint uphill, where he would never catch his breath, and his lungs would always burn desperately for air.
His chest tightened and his body buzzed, a creeping feeling up his neck and in his ears.
“Swan dive off a roof and hope for a quirk in the next life,”
Someone had said that to him today, but he couldn’t remember who. Didn’t matter. It was the invisible push he needed as he stumbled forward toward the edge. It taunted him, called him chicken, whispered teasing chants of death like a whistling wind.
He could hear his breath clearly, in his ears his heart hammered on, he could even feel it rushing through his veins. Izuku didn’t like it, the feeling of being alive. The way his blood pumped, the feeling of air in his nose, the way his muscles ached, and his bones felt like they would collapse in on themselves, like an old building on a mountaintop. It was making him nauseous. He continued to stumble to the edge. His body felt disgusting on him, he wanted out of it, to climb out of his own skin and be free of its earthly ties. He pushed forward, through disgust or disdain. The wind whipped at him and pulled him back in its feeble attempt, but Izuku pushed its pleading hand off his shoulder and continued on. He wasn’t even aware of the shaky broken sobs coming from his mouth like an injured animal. Then he was on the edge. He looked out, then down, and hoped the feeling of falling would show him what a flying quirk might feel like. Then his knees crumbled, under a weighty reality, and fate itself made him jump like he might at the pool. His eyes squeezed tight waiting for the splash, for the concrete, for the fade away like his father. Then he felt it. All at once it was overwhelming as his body folded and bent in ways it should never, he felt his head crack, and he let out a scream but before the sound came out, there was nothing at all. There was nothing, and Izuku felt like air.
In a moment he then could feel his body being violently ripped from its rest. Some force pulled him back.
He ripped his eyes open and he was still alive. Uninjured and safe.
Alive, somehow alive.
The calm slipped through him like sand between his fingers, and he grabbed at it desperately. For the calm, the air, the sand slipping through.
But he was alive.
He panicked.
‘How? How, how, how how?!’ His brain was frantic. He looked to the sky and all around, trying to confirm that he did in fact jump, and it was all there, the ally, the ledge, the building. He looked down and a scream escaped his mouth before he pushed himself away cowering between a trash bin and a wall.
It was him. Dead on the floor. Dead like he was supposed to be, like he wished he was, and jealousy rose to his skin. Swiftly like the rising tide, reality and understanding washed it all away. That was a dead body, his dead body.
It was mangled. There was blood, a lot of blood. It's- his body was face down, and bent in every direction unnaturally. From the rips on the clothes, he could see-
He couldn't look anymore.
He closed his eyes and pressed his palms in and screamed a bloody violent scream. He gagged and choked on his animalistic sobs. His body shook violently. What now? What was he going to do? How was this even happening? He needed to think, his brain clawed at itself to find an explanation. despite waking up from this disgusting dream.
He peaked his eyes open and then closed them again. A wave of nausea hit but nothing came from it.
A lot of time had passed before Izuku could manage to calm himself, rocking himself back and forth, his eyes still squeezed shut. He urged himself to look at his own, animated, body at the least. To see how he was alive- or whatever this was. Carefully he turned himself away from the body. He opened his eyes. His hands were first in sight, sickly pale, almost blue, somewhat translucent, he could see the ground through them when the sunlight hit. His clothes were lightened as well, the entirety of him also translucent. He even seemed to project a light shadow, mostly an outline.
‘Ok Izuku, think now. You jumped off a roof and died. I can see that you died because your body is behind me. But you're alive, or at least have a physical form. Or maybe not physically- spiritual maybe like a ghost. Like… a …. Ghost.
His eyes widened at the understanding.
Then the realization hit.
He killed himself and now he’d be stuck here, forever. His heart dropped, or really the phantom feeling of it did. He’d never be out of his misery. Now he was just alone, stuck here, with no purpose or importance.
He began to cry. His tears were more like a mist of liquid nitrogen, pouring from his eyes before evaporating. And somehow that lack of tears made it more real.
He sobbed for what felt like hours, and maybe it was. Curled up in some alley, with his own dead body while the sunset.
All because his idol told him he couldn’t be a hero, because his friend told him to jump, and because society had already decided he wasn’t worth caring for.
In the late hours, it dawned on him that no one had found him yet. It was definitely at least 1 or 2 in the morning. He had too been missing, his mother had to be worried—
Oh.
His poor mother. How could he do this to her? Most of him screamed.
How could I not? A small part followed.
He’d only brought shame to her, her useless quirkless son. Her husband left her because of it, she had trouble finding work, was mocked, and was seen also almost just as much as societal dirt for producing a quirkless child. She would be sad, no doubt. Devastated even, her world would shatter. But Izuku felt that it would be better this way. This way maybe in the aftermath, her life would be better.
Though still, he was pained to know that she still hadn’t found him. And even more so, despite it all, he already missed his mom.
He decided he’d wait, wait at his body until he was found. Then maybe he’d know what to do next.
Izuku wasn't sure when he fell asleep, and quite frankly was surprised he could. He spent hours, probably days doing this. Waiting like this, after everything, was exhausting. It was actually a voice down the alley that reawakened him one last time.
“Hey, we haven’t checked this one yet,”
“Oh yea, this is the one Mr. Tsukishima heard yelling from, see anything?”
“Haven’t looked yet, let’s just take a —“
The voice was a police officer. When he paused his buddy looked in and his jaw dropped.
“Fuck,”
“Is that the kid?”
Izuku was still hidden, he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to see him or not, he was too afraid to test that theory. Maybe someone would think he was the killer. Not that he technically wasn’t.
“This is an active scene now, you need to make sure Mrs. Midoriya is nowhere near here, ill tape it off,”
“Izuku!!!” His mom's voice rang out.
“You better go now,” the cop had said to the other.
Izuku panicked. He had been waiting here, so she could find him but suddenly he was afraid.
He couldn’t take her reaction, or face her for what he did, despite having no regrets. Or worse, taking her not being able to see him.
Izuku got up quietly, backed out of the alley, and ran.