Chapter 6: Preparations
Izuku met Todoroki at a small, local soba restaurant. The décor was muted and tasteful, dark wooden tables, comfortable booths, decorative light fixtures, elegant drawings of ocean waves and leaping fish on the walls. Todoroki wore formal attire, a collared shirt and khakis a touch too small for him, that looked as though they had been sitting in a closet for a year. Knowing ahead of time, Izuku matched Todoroki's attire, though it cost him ten-thousand yen's worth of art commissions.
The noodles weren't cheap either. The grilled shrimp were warm, but the noodles themselves were chilled, a dichotomy that seemed to appeal to Todoroki. The dish was topped with a chili flake slurry that had a pleasant, smoky burn. The noodles themselves were infused with green tea, adding herbal notes to each bite.
Todoroki looked up from his soba every couple of bites, evidently wondering how to, or if he should break the silence between them. Izuku knew he should wait, let Todoroki settle into the unfamiliar environment, feel the comfort in knowing that no words need to be said.
Once he finished his first bowl, Izuku asked for a couple bowls of donburi, cheaper and more filling than the soba. Pushing his body to its physical limits had put his appetite into overdrive, as if his body had turned into a raging inferno, burning itself to ash. The days of intense physical training, a desperate rush to prepare himself for the USJ, had already left him with bone-deep fatigue, a heavy-lidded sense that he would fall asleep the moment he rested his head kept at bay by unhealthy quantities of coffee. Todoroki ordered himself two more bowls.
"Is Aizawa-sensei making you train a lot?" Todoroki asked.
"I have to. I'm so far behind everyone else."
The donburi came with slices of raw salmon, pickled seaweed, and unagi sauce. It lacked the savory spice of the soba, but the interplay between the earthy seaweed and tangy, sweet sauce was no less appetizing. Todoroki matched him bite for bite, and within ten minutes, they had cleaned their plates. The waitress came around, bill in hand, and Izuku took it.
"I asked if you wanted to come. It's only fair I pay for it."
Todoroki watched with a troubled expression as Izuku put crisp, freshly-withdrawn bills on the table, leaving a generous tip. "Why did you invite me here?" he asked.
"Because I felt like it."
Todoroki's countenance soured. "Is it because of Endeavor?"
"Not at all," Izuku said. "I am aware you both share the same family name I wouldn't be much of a hero fanboy would I be if I didn't recognize that much – but I wasn't aware that you two had a familial relationship until you brought it up just now. The fire did make me wonder."
At the mention of the fire, Todoroki grimaced and looked away. Izuku leaned forward and said, "I'm guessing things aren't great between you and him."
Stony silence was Todoroki's only answer. Instead of trying to pry further, Izuku said, "I don't remember my father. My mom says he had a fire quirk, not as strong as Endeavor's. When I was really little, I hoped I'd get his Quirk. I spent a lot of time waving my hands in front of a candle, trying to make the fire move. One time, when it was getting a bit late for my Quirk to come in, I even stuck my hand into the flame, as if that would make the Quirk appear somehow. All I got out of it were burned fingers."
Todoroki poked his chopsticks at the dregs of chili flakes in his bowl, not meeting Izuku's eyes. "You never got your Quirk."
"No, I didn't."
"Yet you're trying to be a hero anyways."
"I can't see myself doing anything else."
"Why?" Todoroki asked. "Why do you want to be a hero so badly?"
"I want to help people."
Todoroki blinked. "That's it?" he asked incredulously. Anger crept into his voice. "Do you expect me to believe that? I can tell you're being pushed to your physical limits, exercising until your arms and legs ache, never quite able to catch your breath, so exhausted each night you pass out before taking your clothes off. You're telling me that you're willing to suffer all that just because you want to help people?"
"When I was little," Izuku said, "One of my favorite videos was when All Might made his debut. There was no villain to fight, no flashy battle, no cool super moves. It was just All Might, a burning building, and over a hundred civilians trapped inside."
"As the building collapsed around him, All Might charged inside, running out with a dozen people on his shoulders each time. The whole time, through every second of that rescue, he had this big grin on his face, a grin that said that everything would be okay." Midoriya made his own smile, a pale imitation, but one that got a visible response out of Todoroki. "I wanted to be like that."
Todoroki glowered. "My father's been trying to be better than him his whole career. What makes you think you could be anything like him without a Quirk?"
"You don't need to be strong to save people. As weak as I was, there was someone who would've died if I hadn't saved them. It's why I went to U.A. I saw the chance to be a hero, and I took it." Midoriya chuckled and scratched at his hair. "To tell the truth, I didn't think I'd get as far as I did."
"So, you're not trying to be number one?"
"I know I never could be. Just saving people is enough for me."
Todoroki leaned back in his chair, still processing everything Izuku had said. While he was distracted, Izuku asked, "What about you? Why did you go to U.A.?"
"Not your business."
"Is it because your father made you?"
The silence between them was cold and dense enough to climb with an ice axe. Todoroki stared frostily at Izuku and asked, "What makes you think that?"
"It doesn't seem like you like your father that much. You always call him Endeavor, for one."
Todoroki winced. He stared down at the table, never meeting Izuku's eyes. "Just drop it, alright? It's nothing."
As much as Izuku hated himself for forcing the issue, he knew that he had to get through to Todoroki. "Do you actually want to be a hero?"
"Yes. I decided on my own that I will be a hero, but I'm going to do it my way. I'm not going to use Endeavor's power."
"That's why you don't use your fire?"
Todoroki nodded. "I'll become the number one hero with just my ice."
"You probably could," Izuku said. "Your ice is a very strong and versatile Quirk, arguably better than Endeavor's. It reduces property damage, though you'll need to be careful not to freeze pipes, it can reshape the terrain, shield civilians, treat burns, imprison villains, though watch for hypothermia and frostbite, and it gives you more mobility."
"You really think I can do it?"
"Absolutely."
Todoroki snorted, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "Endeavor always said I was holding myself back, wasting my potential, would never beat All Might if I didn't use both sides of my Quirk. It feels nice, hearing from someone that I can do it."
Izuku wanted to leave the conversation there, at that high note, with Todoroki happy and content, but he knew what had to come next. "You shouldn't."
Todoroki's smile vanished, like a snowflake drifting through a bonfire. "Why not?"
"Because someday, somewhere, there's going to be someone you could only save with your fire. Someone freezing to death, surrounded by villains, with no one else to save them, no way for you to call backup or get them somewhere warmer. Someone who will die unless you use your fire to warm them up."
Todoroki's mismatched eyes bored into him. "You can't know that."
"If you're serious about being a pro hero, you'll have to be ready for it. When that day comes, I hope that someone else's life will mean more to you than what your dad thinks of you." Izuku stood, straightened his shirt, and said, "I should get going before my mom starts worrying. She doesn't like it when I stay out late. Have a good night, Shoto-kun."
The familiarity bothered Izuku, who was ill accustomed to being familiar with anyone, but he had faith that it was the final set of words that would save his life at the USJ.
The dojo that Ojiro trained at, which doubled as his home, was nestled between a ramen shop and a quick mart. The wooden floors had nicks and dents, but they were polished until they shone, and though their mats and gi had seen better days, everything was clean and smelled of juniper. Ojiro's own gi was no less time-worn than the rest of the dojo, but his clothes were freshly laundered and expertly folded, his green belt gleaming around his waist.
The living space over the dojo was almost as cramped as the Midoriyas' apartment. To Izuku's eyes, it was cozy. The furniture was worn with age, from seats that had shaped themselves to the people that sat in them every night for many years, to the table with subtle indents where bowls and plates had been set at every meal, to couches where one could tell who sat where by the size and shape of the indent in the cushions. An old cathode ray television sat on a cabinet in the living room, playing the news over crackling speakers. Old photographs hung room every wall, some showing Mashirao holding up a new belt, training in the dojo, smiling in front of a birth day cake, held in his mother's arms as an infant. Others were much older, the colors bleached by sunlight, of the parents as they grew up. The whole place had a history to it, one that remembered the Ojiro family through generations.
Ojiro's father greeted Izuku warmly and beamed when he expressed interest in martial arts. He was an older man, blonde hair going gray at the temples, wiry and lean. His tail was thin and slender, lacking the weight and strength of Ojiro's tail, but more dexterous, able to pour a cup of tea while he brought out the sugar. As they drank, Izuku thanked him for the tea, complimenting its deep, herbal flavor, and the older man replied that he had good taste.
All the talking upstairs was small talk, how school was going, what his home life was like, what interested him about martial arts. Izuku asked questions of his own, how long they've run the dojo, were there any competitions, what the process was for getting belts, asked more out of politeness than any interest in the answers.
Once they had finished the tea, Ojiro led Izuku back downstairs. He gave him a gi out of a hamper and let Izuku change in the bathroom. Izuku's hands went through the motions as if he had worn a gi countless times before, though it had been his first time trying on the garment, because he already knew the hand motions he would make to hold the garment together.
Ojiro seemed startled when he walked out. He recovered, but his expression became more guarded. It wasn't something Izuku could help, he reasoned, since he had no idea what had caused it and his future showed it happening anyways.
Over one of the tatami mats, Ojiro led him through some basic blocks and counters. Ojiro would demonstrate once, either having Izuku try to punch him or take a blow, and have Izuku replicate his movements. His vision of the future showed him how to execute each move. Armed with that knowledge, Izuku quickly made his way through the exercises. After he demonstrated proficiency in blocking and attacking, Ojiro showed him throws. They both hit the mats many times as they walked through each throw.
"You're learning fast," Ojiro said once they were done. He poured out two cups of water from a nearby fountain and offered Izuku one. "If you're interested, you could try getting a belt. You'd start out as a novice, but you could get my rank within a few years."
"Thanks, but I'd rather focus on becoming a hero."
Ojiro's smile faltered. "Well, couldn't you do both? I mean, what else could you do if you want to fend for yourself as a hero?"
"I still intend to learn martial arts, but I should also think about what kind of support gear I'll work with." Midoriya gestured at his short, skinny frame. "As I am, I'm never going to cut it fighting with my bare hands."
"Well, what if your equipment breaks, or you run out of it?"
"Then I'd use my hands. Avoiding that is part of a hero's job as well. Sure, I need to be prepared for emergencies, that's why I want to learn martial arts, but support equipment will make me more effective as a hero."
Ojiro's tail whipped back and forth as he thought to himself. "I guess I can understand that, but if you devoted yourself entirely to martial arts, eventually, you would be good enough not to need any equipment. It would take longer, yes, but in the end, with hard work and practice, you could achieve anything with your bare hands."
"What would happen in the meantime?" Izuku countered. "How many people would I fail to save because I decided not to use support equipment?"
"We're just students. It'll be years before we'll have to save someone. You'll have plenty to master martial arts before then."
Izuku shook his head. "There's work studies over the summer. While we won't be allowed to engage villains, it's possible we'll be forced to defend ourselves and others."
Ojiro faltered, but with visible inspiration, he rallied himself. "You won't be allowed any equipment during the Sports Festival. If you want to get into the work studies, you'll need to be able to fend for yourself without that equipment. You won't be able to save anyone during work studies if hero agencies never notice you."
"True, but martial arts won't be of much help during the early rounds. Those are usually either a race or some form of team-based exercise. As long as I make it to the bracket, I'll get some offers."
Ojiro thought for a moment and sighed in defeat. "You have a point. Still, I'm farther along in my training. Adding equipment now would just throw off my fighting style."
Izuku feigned surprise. "You're not going to add any equipment? I thought I had some good ideas."
"You did," Ojiro said uneasily, "It's just that they don't fit with my style as a hero."
"Why not? I thought I picked weapons that seemed right at home with a martial artist's aesthetic."
"Well, I kind of want to be a hero that doesn't have to depend on equipment. So many heroes these days only fight as well as they do because of their equipment, like Endeavor's coolant suit, but there's one hero who's amazing without any support equipment."
"All Might."
"Exactly. He made me believe that I could be an amazing hero just with my family's martial arts. That's what I want to be a hero for, to show everyone that heroes are more than just their equipment."
"The only reason All Might doesn't use any support equipment is that nothing can handle his strength," Izuku said. "It's not about making a point or showing what can be done. I know that if there was support equipment that would help him save people, he would use it, because that's what matters most to him."
"I – how do you know that?"
Izuku took out his first hero journal, brought along for this moment. The entire book, front to back, was devoted entirely to All Might, from his childish hero worship to concrete analysis of his career.
"Early in his career," Izuku said as he flipped to the relevant section. "All Might worked closely with David Shield. There were some prototypes he tried, but all of them broke when he used his Quirk."
Ojiro stared in shock at the sketched images of All Might wearing modified gauntlets and boots. "I had no idea."
"It was a long time ago. I had to do a lot of digging to find good images for these sketches."
After a deep breath, Ojiro stood tall and said, "Well, I'll be the first, then. I'll show everyone you don't need equipment to be a hero."
"Honestly, you probably could. It would be hard, but you could do it, and you'd even gain popularity in some circles for sticking with that promise."
"You really think so?"
"You could," Izuku said, bracing himself for another set of shattered dreams, "But I don't think you should."
Ojiro's face went blank. "Why not?"
"Because, one day, there will be someone that your martial arts can't save, no matter how much you practice. The villain will be too far away, out of your reach, and someone will die because of it. Sure, you'd still be a hero, but you would wonder what would have happened if you had the tools to save that person."
Frustration slowly surfaced on Ojiro's face, though he struggled to contain it. After an awkward silence, Izuku slipped off the gi, handed it back to Ojiro, and said he had to go home.
Once Izuku had left, the elder Ojiro, teacup in hand, told the younger, "Cherish the friend that gives you advice they know you don't want to hear. Those are the kind that truly care about you."
Ashido took Izuku to a bustling, vibrant mochi shop. Colorful furniture, pop music playing over the speakers, bright pink uniforms worn by smiling employees assaulted Izuku's senses as they got in line. It took nearly ten minutes for the sheer volume of customers to wind their way through the queue and get their mochi before it was their turn. Ashido got strawberry flavor, and Izuku went with mint, already knowing how it would taste.
Waiting in line, with a cute girl leaning on his shoulder, Izuku felt a strange combination of awkwardness and exhilaration. Even knowing everything that would happen, it felt strangely unreal that he, Quirkless, worthless Deku, was on a date with a girl. It wouldn't last, but at least he could say he had gone on a date before he died.
Ashido looked right at home in the flamboyant atmosphere, with a black tank-top and shorts that showed enough leg to make Izuku uneasy every time he looked down. Izuku went with a plain long-sleeve shirt and jeans, casual, but a bit stuffier than anything that would have fit the venue.
Their seat was in the middle of the turmoil, with people passing them and idle conversations droning over the backdrop music. Ashido dug right in, tearing a big bite of pink-colored rice cake and chewing it vigorously. Izuku ate his green-colored treat at a more deliberate pace.
"Isn't this stuff the best, Izu-kun?" Ashido asked between bites.
Izuku had to speak louder than usual to make himself heard. "It's really good. Thanks for inviting me here, Ashido-san."
Ashido waggled a finger in front of Izuku's face. "Nope! We're on a date, so you have to call me Mina-chan."
"Sure, Mina-chan." Izuku couldn't remember the last time he had used such a casual honorific. Despite his nerves, the name rolled easily off his tongue.
Mina smiled at him. "So, how long have you been drawing?"
"I started when I was really little. Four, I think. After I saw All Might for the first time, I got obsessed with heroes. I started drawing pictures and writing about them, and as time went on, I got better at both."
"You have more journals, right? Mind if I see one?"
"Sure." Izuku had his latest journal on him since there will be a villain attack right around the corner in an hour. He had only just started it, with a few entries on Kamui Woods and Mount Lady. Mina chuckled when she saw the heroine's skimpy outfit.
"Careful, Izu-kun, people might think you're a pervert if you keep drawing stuff like this."
Izuku leaned forward to see the image that she was talking about. Mount Lady was leaning forward, greeting her audience and showing a generous amount of cleavage. Some rough-sketched bystanders were drawn in for scale.
"Her costume has to stretch many times its size when she grows. It can only cover so much at full size."
"I bet she does that on purpose."
"Well, it has certainly gotten a lot of attention. I've been getting so many commissions for her lately."
"You do commissions?" Mina waggled her eyebrows with a mischievous smile. "Do you do… naughty commissions?"
Izuku shook his head. "People offered me a lot of money, but I never felt comfortable with it. I know some heroes, like Midnight, say it's fine, but it feels wrong, like I'm stripping them myself and letting people ogle them."
"Yeah, I can see how that would be weird. How much did they offer?"
"One guy offered fifty-thousand yen. Most do five to ten-thousand."
Mina's jaw dropped. "That much, really?"
"That's for the really hard stuff to make." Izuku took out his phone and opened some image files. "I usually make them on a tablet, makes it easier to do the shading and add effects."
"Wow, that's awesome!" Mina flipped through the files, marveling at each one. "You made all these? How much time did it take?"
"Each one takes a couple days. I have to do the line art, fill in the colors, then the shading. Shading takes a long time to get right."
"I wish I could make art this pretty. All I can do are doodles."
"What do you do for fun?" Izuku asked.
"Aside from asking out cute boys?" Mina asked with a sly smile. "I like dancing."
"Really? What kind?"
"Just dancing, I guess. Whatever's fun. I've been dying to try out a nightclub, but my parents won't let me."
"Don't you have to be twenty?"
"Yeah, but once I move out, I'll get a fake I.D. and party it up." Mina leaned closer and whispered, "You can come with me if you want."
Izuku shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I want to focus on hero work."
Mina's horns drooped. "Oh. So, does that mean…"
"Yeah, I'd rather not get into anything right now. Sorry."
"No, it's fine. I understand." Mina smiled at him and said, "Thanks for coming, though, I still had lots of fun."
"Same here. No one's ever asked me out before, so thanks for doing that. It was really nice of you."
"Really? No one was interested in you?"
"Well, I am Quirkless."
Mina winced. "Ah." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "They all missed out. You're pretty great."
"Thanks. You're pretty great too."
Mina giggled and said, "Well, if you ever change your mind, you have my number. I'm not going to wait around forever, so don't get mad at me if I have to turn you down because I'm with someone else."
"That's fine. Anyways, I had some ideas for your hero outfit you might like."
"Really? Let's hear it."
Opening up his 1-A notebook, he showed Mina his rough sketch of a set of bulbous gloves.
"I don't know, I'm not sure I like the way they look."
"That can be fixed. The general idea is that you can store the acid you make, so you can release it all at once later."
"Like what Bakugo does? I don't know, acid can be pretty dangerous. It's usually better just to use a little bit at a time."
"It could be useful in emergencies," Izuku said. "Like if there's a lot of villains at once, or a really powerful one. It could also clear obstacles. It would be tough to use around civilians and could cause severe property damage, which is why it should be used sparingly. Still, I think you should at least try it, see what you think."
"Well, you're the smart one. If you think I should, then I will."
"Cool. I can't wait to see it in action."
"You'll draw me when I use it, right? Show me how it turns out."
He knew he would never be around for a second date, but it was nice to know that she was interested.
While they were jogging under Aizawa's supervision, Izuku ran up to Uraraka and said, "I noticed you have trouble nullifying the gravity of multiple objects at once."
"Ah, Midoriya-kun. Yeah," Uraraka said between breaths, "I get nauseous when I try it."
"Have you tried making objects just a bit lighter instead of nullifying it altogether? It might be easier on you."
"I never thought of that. Thanks! I'll give it a try."
Izuku could only guess how it would save her life, but he knew that short conversation would matter.
Chapter 7: Motherly Concerns
Notice: Chapter 2 has been partially rewritten. An excerpt with pertinent information is past the author's notes. If you read Chapter 2 after this chapter was released, feel free to ignore it. If not, I highly recommend you give the excerpt a look, as it'll be relevant in future chapters.
Midoriya Inko knew that her son was not okay. Learning that he had been Quirkless, despite both his parents having Quirks, shattered her baby Izuku's dream of being a hero. Maybe she shouldn't have told him it wouldn't be possible. Maybe her son would still be happy if she had let him live a lie, but she knew she couldn't live with herself if Izuku got himself hurt trying to be a hero without a Quirk.
The first couple weeks were hell. If Izuku wasn't crying over his favorite All Might video, he had the lifeless demeanor of a zombie, and if he wasn't dejectedly staring off into space, he was working on his notebook with shaking fingers. Inko almost broke down, almost told him that he could still be a hero, that he could sign up for martial arts or something, learn how to save others without a Quirk. If it had gone on for much longer, she might have.
It was as if a switch was flipped in Izuku's brain. One day, the crying, the listlessness, the expression of a broken heart and shattered dreams, was replaced by apathy. Sure, he still smiled or frowned at things. Over the years, Inko learned to read the subtle changes in expression. However, he never laughed, never seemed surprised at anything, never said more than he needed to or tried anything different. He kept to himself, working on his hero notebooks and studying for school.
Inko sometimes wondered if she should take her son to a psychologist. Even if it would cost her more than she could afford, she could find a way to make it work. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she couldn't say that anything was wrong with her son. He didn't behave like other kids, but his grades were normal and his teachers didn't have any comments. If she couldn't say there was wrong with him, then would there even be anything to fix?
The slime incident seemed to spark a change in Izuku. He started working out, eating more, and going outside. When she asked why, Izuku told her that he had applied to U.A.'s hero program, and he wanted to pass. As tempted as she was to put her foot down, tell him it was too dangerous, especially after a villain nearly killed him, the thought of him finally coming out of his shell changed her mind. Inko had hoped that she would get her smiling son back.
Only, he never did come out of that shell. Though his appetite improved and his body grew visibly more athletic, Izuku's attitude remained unchanged. As the day of the exam approached, Izuku showed no hint of excitement or anxiety. He left home with his backpack slung over his shoulders, a pair of garden shears poking out the top, and a plexiglass shield in one hand.
When Izuku got the results back, with the top score on the physical exam and a passing grade on the written portion, earning a full-ride scholarship on top of getting into the hero program, and casually tossed the acceptance letter on the table without a hint of joy or happiness, Inko knew she had to talk to someone. She waited until the school year began, waited until she could take a day off from both of her jobs, before calling up the school. After telling the assistant what she wanted, she was quickly passed to the principal. She quickly explained her concerns, and he asked her what time would work best for her. When she said she could make anytime on Monday, he scheduled her for an early morning visit.
After Izuku left for school, Inko packed her own backpack, filling it with the doctor's notice she got when he was four, along with anything else she thought could explain what she thought was wrong, pictures of him alone during birthday parties, his neutral expression when he got a new All Might figurine, report cards and notes from parent-teacher conferences.
Eraserhead met her out at the school gates. Izuku had told him who he was and explained hey he operated outside the limelight, but it felt hard to believe that the unkempt, shabby looking man wasn't only her son's homeroom teacher, but also a pro hero. The press parted uneasily around him as he glared them aside, making room for Inko.
Eraserhead complemented her for not wasting any time and led her into the school. She gawked at the scenery, struggling to take in how vast and modern the school looked, but Eraserhead's rapid pace made her hustle to keep up with him. She was nearly out of breath by the time they made it to a conference room.
A tiny, white-furred rodent in a suit and an old lady in a doctor's robe with a syringe for a hair ornament were waiting for her, seated around a large table. Four cups of tea were set out, still steaming hot, with a white china pot at the center of the table. Eraserhead sat next to the rodent, leaving Inko the seat at the far end of the table. Inko tried the tea and found it refreshingly sweet.
"I'm not fond of fruity teas myself," the rodent told her, "But I figured you would enjoy this more. Is it to your liking?"
"Yes, thank you." Inko took another sip to calm her nerves. "Thank you for meeting with me, Nezu-san. I don't want to be a bother."
"Not at all," Nezu said. "The welfare of this institution's students will always be my top priority. I am happy to meet with concerned parents at any time." Gesturing at the others around the table, Nezu said, "This is Shuzenji Chiyo, the school nurse, and Aizawa Shouta, Midoriya-kun's homeroom teacher. So, I know we discussed this over the phone a bit, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a detailed account of what concerns you have."
Inko told them everything she could think of, the doctor's diagnosis and his behavior the few weeks after, the sudden change, his apathy, the slime villain attack, and his fervent training afterwards. She showed her pictures, the notes, the medical records, wondering if the teachers were going to think she was crazy. It sounded crazy to her, all laid out, crazy to raise a fuss over her son being distant and withdrawn after having his dreams crushed, but it felt good to get all her worries off her chest.
Nezu had been taking notes throughout her speech. When she stopped, he kept writing a few minutes, the scratching of his fountain-tip pen filling the silence in the room. "Is that everything?" he asked.
"Yes. Thank you for listening, I'm sorry if I wasted your time–"
"You aren't omitting anything, are you?"
Nezu's beady eyes seemed to bore holes into her skull. Inko swallowed nervously and said, "No, I don't think so. Why, is something wrong?"
Shuzenji and Aizawa exchanged a look that make Inko's stomach plummet. Nezu tapped his pen on the table, lost in thought.
"For the record," the principal said, "I don't suspect any wrong-doing on your part." Inko's heart nearly stopped at the gravity of his tone and words. "However, if I find reason to believe otherwise, I may have to involve the authorities."
Inko's heart joined her stomach somewhere near her toes. "What happened?"
Both faculty members turned towards the principal. Nezu took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry to ask you like this, but are you aware of Izuku's scars?"
"His what?"
Nezu nodded towards Aizawa. The teacher took out a remote, turning on a projector over the table. The image taken during the combat training was a bit blurry, zoomed in, but she could still make out faint splotches and lines on Izuku's skin, blindingly white against Izuku's pale skin.
Tears poured down Inko's face as she took in the image, blurring the scars even more. "When?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "When did this happen?"
"I got a closer look at his scars when he came into my office," Shuzenji said. "They all look years old, and though I can't be sure, it looks like they all happened at different times. As best as I can guess, this has been happening for a long time." The nurse made a grim expression and said bitterly, "They don't look self-inflicted."
"Someone did this to him? Who? Why?"
"We don't know," Nezu said. "I've been reviewing school records, but Aldera didn't have anything on record. It will take time, but I'm working on getting access to their security footage."
Inko could barely speak from how tight her throat had become. She couldn't see anymore, blinded by her tears. "How did I not know about this?" she wailed, sobbing into her arm. "How could I be so stupid?"
Shuzenji hopped out of her chair and went to Inko's side. "You two," she snapped at Nezu and Aizawa, "Out."
"We'll be next door," Nezu said. "Take as much time as you need, Midoriya-san."
When they were alone, Recovery Girl pulled a chair over next to Inko. She sat next to her, patting her shoulder while she sobbed into the table.
"Everything will be okay, Midoriya-san. We will do everything we can for your son."
"How did I not know? He had scars all over his arm and back for god knows how long, and I never even noticed them. How?"
"Do you think he was hiding them on purpose?"
Inko sniffed and wiped her face. "I – he had to have. He always wore long shirts, no matter how hot it was… he always said he hated swimming. How did I miss all that?"
"It's alright, dearie, you didn't know. Nobody's perfect. There's nothing you could have done if he didn't let you know about his problems."
"But why?" Inko grabbed Shuzenji by the shoulders. Her eyes were flooding with fresh tears. "Why didn't he tell me? Did he think I wouldn't care? Did he think I wouldn't believe him, or do anything about it?"
"I don't know," Recovery Girl said. "That's something you'll have to find out from your son."
Inko's shoulders sagged. "I did this. When he got the diagnosis, he asked me if he could still be a hero. I – I just apologized! I couldn't even tell him that he could still have his dream! I couldn't – I was so worried about what would happen to him, and I – if I had been more supportive, if I helped him become a hero like he always dreamed, maybe he would've trusted me. Maybe he would've told me all this was happening." Inko grew nearly incomprehensible as her chest shook from all the sobbing. "Maybe it wouldn't have even happened in the first place!"
"You weren't wrong, Midoriya-san. Hero work is dangerous. Your son came in a few days ago with two broken fingers, I'm guessing he didn't tell you that either?"
Inko's stricken countenance was all the answer Shuzenji needed. The elderly woman shook her head. "It's a common enough occurrence during training. Burns, cuts, broken bones, concussions, sprains, you name it, I've seen it in my office. We try to limit it, but fact is, they need to be exposed to that danger beforehand, or the real world will chew them up. Hero work isn't glamorous, it isn't a cozy life. It's a life of hardship and sacrifice, one that isn't easy for anyone, even those with powerful quirks. If I hadn't seen what Midoriya was capable of for myself, I would have insisted that he be transferred to general studies."
"Even now, I still can't believe he's here. I don't even know how I did it! How awful is that? I should've been there to support him, and instead, he had to do all this on his own. No wonder he never told me anything!"
Inko buried her face in Shuzenji's shoulder, drenching her coat. She cried like that for fifteen minutes, while Recovery Girl patted her back and muttered softly to her.
"I'm sorry," Inko said as she pulled away. "I shouldn't have–"
"It's quite alright." Shuzenji rummaged around in her pocket and took out a gummy. "Here, eat one. You'll feel better."
Inko stared numbly at the green teddy bear between her fingers. She popped it in her mouth, grimacing at the sickly-sweet apple flavor. When she swallowed it, a surge of energy spread through her, making her feel a little less like death.
"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling as she held back another round of sobs. "You're going through all this trouble just for me. I don't feel like I deserve it."
"That's what heroes are for," Shuzenji said with a warm smile. "We help whoever and however we can. Don't worry about not being worth it, because you are. You care about your son, and because of that, I know the two of you will be okay."
Inko took a deep breath and wrung her hands together. "Thank you, Shuzenji-san. I – I don't know what to do next. Where do I even begin?"
"Well, we have a counselor on staff for situations like this. If you would like, we can talk to Nezu and see if we can set up an appointment. We also have psychiatrists we can contact, but it may take a while before they can see your son."
"The counselor sounds perfect." Inko wiped her face on her sleeve, grimacing when some of her makeup stained the fabric. "I'm a mess."
"Don't worry about that, I have some powder you can borrow."
"It's fine, I'm just heading home anyways, but thank you."
Shuzenji poured Inko another cup of tea. "Should I go get Nezu?"
"Please."
Inko barely had time for a sip before everyone was back. She tried her best to stay in control of herself, but she knew she looked like a mess from the pained expression on Aizawa's face.
"From what I understand, you wish to set up an appointment with the school's counselor, correct?" When Inko nodded, the principal said, "I can get you in as early as next Monday, after school. Will that be alright?"
"It will." She had work that day for both jobs, but the thought didn't even cross her mind. "Thank you so much."
"Anytime, Midoriya-san. Is there anything else we can help you with?"
"No, you've done so much already. I'll be fine. Thank you."
"Aizawa-san can take you to the entrance. I'll send you an email to confirm the appointment and tell you when to arrive."
Gathering up her things, Inko said her goodbyes to Nezu and Shuzenji before following Aizawa out of the room. This time, the pro hero walked more slowly, looking behind him once in a while with a concerned expression. Each time they came to a corner, he made sure no one was in the hallways. The path was a different one, winding past large, closed-off buildings and open fields.
When they arrived at a small gate at the rear of the school, Aizawa paused. "This is the back entrance. After all that, I figured you wouldn't want to deal with all the vultures lurking outside the school.
It took Inko a few moments to realize that Aizawa meant the reporters. "Yes, thank you. I don't think I want to end up in a newspaper looking like this."
Aizawa smiled, but it was strained. "I am so sorry for everything you and your son have been through." He pulled up a sleeve, revealing a few scars of his own. "I know what it's like."
"Will he be okay?" Inko asked.
"He's a tough kid. And honestly, he has the potential to be an amazing hero." He had a determined gleam in his eye when he said, "I'll make sure of it."
"I wish I had seen it sooner. If I had…"
"It's not your fault. That much, I'm sure of." He scowled and added, "If anything, it's whichever incompetent idiot was running his prep school, for letting it get this bad. If any students at U.A. try to harass him, I'll see to it that they are expelled at the minimum."
"Good. I could tell that his old teachers never really cared, but I didn't think there was anything I could do about it. I'm glad he finally has a good teacher." Wiping away a stray tear, she said, "Thank you, and have a good day, Aizawa-san."
When Izuku came home, Inko almost confronted him on the spot. Seeing the long sleeves of his school uniform, knowing what was hiding beneath them, brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she wiped them away before her son could see.
"You know," she said shakily, "I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I didn't believe you could be a hero, but you did it. You made it to U.A. And I want you to know, I'll do whatever I can to support your dream."
She didn't know how she expected her son to react, but his indifferent nod felt like the cruelest answer possible. "Thanks mom. I'm glad you think so."
Izuku went to his room, training some more, from the sound of stomping feet and heavy breathing behind his door. One week, she just had to pull through for one week, and they could sort this all out. It had taken her far too long, but she finally got the help her son needed.
Nezu had another conference room waiting when Recovery Girl kicked them both out. Nezu reached for his cup, only to find he had left it in the other room.
"What a bother," he said idly. "I hope it doesn't get cold before we go back."
Aizawa took a seat and folded his arms. "I thought we weren't going to approach his mother."
"She approached me. Good thing she did. I had thought that she was helping her son hide his Quirk, but I see now that she's as in the dark as we are."
"Is that good or bad?"
Nezu grimaced. "Very bad. The fact that he managed to keep those scars a secret from his own mother for so long speaks to how well he can hide things, and it also points to possible trust issues. Getting Izuku to admit he has a Quirk, let alone confide the details of its use and limitations, will be nearly impossible."
Aizawa drummed his fingers on the table, looking down with an uneasy countenance. "I feel bad for her. We dropped one hell of a bombshell on her, and we still haven't told her about his mystery Quirk."
"I'm afraid we won't be doing that today."
An edge crept into Aizawa's voice. "Why not?"
"For one, all our evidence is circumstantial. While we could use Tsukauchi to resolve the matter, the situation's too delicate for such a hammer, so to speak. Second, if Midoriya-kun were to catch wind of our suspicions, it may make him flee. Considering that he has an information-based Quirk of equal or greater magnitude of my own, with unknown function and characteristics, I shudder to imagine how difficult it would be to track him down. He could disappear entirely, or worse yet, team up with villains."
"So, what are we going to do? We can't tell his mother, we can't confront him, all we're doing is waiting for something to happen. What are we even waiting for?"
"More information. I've been keeping tabs on Midoriya-kun's activity, and what I've seen so far is… worrying. His behavior has been highly out of character since starting classes at U.A. His academic performance has greatly improved, and he's socializing far more than the limited information I've gotten from Aldera would suggest, going so far as to meet with multiple classmates off campus."
"For the past three days, he has gone out with three members of the class – Todoroki, Ojiro, and Ashido. Of those, both Ojiro and Ashido filed requests for new support gear today. On a hunch, I decided to ask them where they got the ideas for their gear, and both of them told me that it was Midoriya's idea."
"He's known in his class for his thorough Quirk analysis," Aizawa said. "It's no surprise that his classmates would want his advice."
"True, but Ojiro had a more interesting tale to tell. He had insisted on not using equipment at all, but Midoriya warned him that if he didn't, someone would die."
Aizawa leaned forward, thinking the implications of what Nezu said. "So, is it a predictive Quirk after all?"
"Possible. Again, there's not much we know. What worries me is why his behavior has radically changed." Nezu scratched at the side of his face as his attention wandered. "If he was worried we suspected he had a Quirk, the last thing he would do is draw attention to himself, which means there has to be something else going on. Whatever the reason, I fear we'll find out soon enough."
Worried by Nezu's tone of voice, Aizawa decided to change the subject. "Have you figured anything out about his Quirk?"
"Nothing so far. However, Midoriya-san gave us a good hint."
"The change in emotions."
"Exactly. I'd wager that it marks the activation of his Quirk. Whatever it is, it caused a significant change to his emotional state."
"All the more reason to get him counseling," Aizawa said grimly. "I know you didn't want to single him out, but after hearing this…"
"I agree, and I think today will give us a wonderful opportunity to make it happen."
Aizawa blinked in surprise. "You're going to suggest it to her?"
"I will. I'd like to think that it would be enough to get Midoriya-kun to open up to us, but I doubt we'd be so lucky. It will be enough to at least get a better understanding of his emotional state. In time, that might help us solve this riddle."
As it turned out, Recovery Girl had already suggested counseling, and Midoriya Inko had enthusiastically agreed. To Aizawa's relief, they finally had a set date for a counseling session. They finally had the chance to help such a promising student.
Considering how disheveled Midoriya-san appeared, Aizawa led her out the back, making sure no one saw her. Before parting ways with her, he tried to reassure her as best as he could. From the sad smile on her face, he felt it might have been enough. It tore at his heart, knowing that they were hiding Izuku's Quirk from her. For a moment, he felt tempted to tell her what he knew, but he couldn't deny Nezu's logic. He watched in silence as Midoriya Inko walked the winding, lonely path back to the school's parking lot.
A/N: today feels like a game of Russian roulette. I'm on-call for work for four hours before my shift starts, and I'm praying I don't get that call. I don't think I will, but if I do, today's gonna suck.
This chapter overall was a little on the shorter side, but I felt that adding more would make it feel bloated. Hopefully, the extra little bit after this will make up for it.
Speaking of that, as the notice said, an excerpt for material added to chapter two was added. I've been debating for a while now whether or not to add an extra drawback to Izuku's Quirk, and finalizing certain scenes made up my mind. As much as I don't like changing things once they're written, I felt that this was important enough to break that rule.
To Yamajiji, it'd be pretty cruel of Izuku to leave someone hanging when he knows he's going to kick the bucket in a week.
To Dased22, part of the editing I did was to make it clearer what Izuku's new fate would be. It's only changed because Aizawa messed with his Quirk. Hope that helps.
To ImThePerson, I feel that I'm going to have my hands full just with 1-A. They'll be around, but not a major part of the story. At least, that's the plan for now. Lord knows half my writing is done by the seat of my pants.
To elc, I'm glad you feel I'm doing a great job with the characters. I intended for there to be diversity of opinions to drive more interpersonal conflicts later on. Everyone agreeing and being nice is too boring.
To DemonKittyAngel, looks like someone has a precognitive Quirk of their own. Kudos.
Chapter Two: Blackout - Rewrite
Izuku could feel himself breaking on the inside. As his future crept outward, he was five again, rolling on the floor as ten years of bullying and a death by suffocation played out while the All Might video played on loop above him. Two fingers on his left hand snapped, and he could feel shards of bone grinding against one another as he moved his hand. Izuku choked on his scream. Desperate to break away from the crowd before the pain got worse, he took the out his Quirk showed him. "I – I need to use the restroom. Is that okay?"
Eraserhead studied him carefully, with an emotion on his face that Izuku couldn't read. "Make it quick. We have work to do."
"Yes sir!"
Izuku sprinted to the nearest restroom, locked the stall, and collapsed onto the toilet seat. Sobs broke out of him, and tears ran down his face as the future spread outward. A dull echo of the pain from breaking fingers lingered in his left hand, and his right itched from a burn. As his future crept outward, exhaustion deadened his muscles, making him too weak to move. Each day of his new future weakened him, until he felt a bone-deep exhaustion that made him want to close his eyes.
The panic he had held back with everything he had came rushing in full-force, a feeling of helplessness and confusion from having his entire future ripped out from under him like a tablecloth. He couldn't imagine how people could live like that, not knowing what their every action would entail, how to speak, how to act, where to walk, every minute detail laid out for him in a picture-perfect script. The anger and fear of the present grappled with the exhaustion of the future, sending his heart into an arrhythmic patter.
The future had changed. Again. He still wasn't sure what had happened the first time, but this time, his Quirk had been erased. For just a moment, he couldn't see what he was supposed to do. He had messed up. He had given in to panic, and now, Eraserhead knew he had a Quirk, a Quirk Izuku wasn't supposed to show him, and somehow, it had changed what was supposed to happen.
Anger simmered inside Izuku. For the first time in his life, he felt that he could hate a hero. Even Endeavor, for all his sour attitude and rudeness, could be respected for his tireless efforts to apprehend villains, but his teacher changed his mind about how much Izuku was worth because he had a Quirk. He was supposed to expel him, bottom of the class, Quirkless, weak loser he was. The only thing that could have changed his mind was his Quirk. It explained the sudden shift in his future perfectly.
As he huddled into a ball on the toilet, chest bursting with anger and hysteria, his new death came to him. A swirling black void, villains on a ship, a nightmarish monster with unfocused eyes, a hand reaching for him from darkness, the classmates and heroes gathered at the center plaza, safe, the villains ready to retreat.
Izuku felt his skull ripping itself apart. Each fleck of skin, flesh, and bone that turned to dust drove another lance of pain through his head. Izuku stuffed a hand in his mouth, stifling the scream that tore itself from his throat.
After what felt like an eternity, the pain stopped. Izuku picked himself up off the bathroom floor with shaking arms, breathing deeply. Tooth marks bit painfully into his hand, almost drawing blood, but the pain was distant, numbed by his having felt it already.
Two weeks. He had two weeks to prepare before villains will attack his school and try to kill his classmates and his teacher. He didn't have time to cry. He washed his face in the sink and let his hair hang low to hide his puffy, red eyes. On his way back to class, he took a detour to the library and checked out a book on sign language.
Izuku hoped that, this time, that the future wouldn't change on him.