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English
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Part 3 of UG101's Multi-Chapter MHA/BNHA Stories , Part 1 of 'Til The Angels Save Us All
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2019-03-22
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2020-07-03
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40/?
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Whispers In The Dark

Chapter 2: Today's Forecast: Four Feet And Eight Inches Of Angst

Chapter Text

When Izuku was still a toddler, before he was supposed to manifest his quirk, his Mama's friends would hang out at their apartment more than anywhere else. His memories of that time were full of laughter and stories, and he could even remember seeing the five of them sitting around a table with lots of books and papers one time, while he sat nearby and watched cartoons. They'd been studying for an exam of some kind, and even though they were in different classes- his Mama was in Management, while the others were in Heroics- they'd still hung out together rather than separately.

 

They were close enough that the greenette had been raised with the 'Fearsome Foursome of Yuuei High' as his aunt and uncles, and he loved them as much as he loved his Mama.

 

Izuku loved his Uncle Shouta's dry humor, and the crazy smiles he'd sport when he got particularly invested in something, and the way he'd bring in stray cats when it was raining sometimes. He loved his Uncle Hizashi's open heart, and the things he'd teach him when it was just the two of them, and the way he'd sing softly when he thought nobody else was around. He loved his Uncle Tensei's smile, and the silly pranks he'd play on the others when they were feeling down, and the way he'd carry him when they were outside and there was lots of space to run around. He loved his Auntie Nemuri's sassy nature, and the gossip she'd share about the other kids at Yuuei, and the way she'd teach him how to apply makeup 'so sharp it could kill a man' when she had the time to.

 

He loved them, just as much as he loved his Mama's hugs and the support she'd give them when they needed or even just wanted it, and the way she'd bring everyone together with a smile when times got rough. He loved them, and he loved her, and that's why it hurt so much when things began to fall apart.

 

When Izuku was four years old, and all the other kids had manifested their quirks but he hadn't, he'd been taken to a quirk specialist to figure out why. The boy was filled with restless energy the whole time, wanting to get back home to hear more stories and help his Uncle Tensei while he was recovering from a broken arm, but that restlessness was replaced with an unnatural coldness by the end of the appointment. He'd gotten an x-ray done- the first of many tests they'd put him through- and the results had damned him.

 

The greenette was carried home by a silent, shaking Inko, and he looked to her for support when his dreams began to take damage. He didn't want her to apologize like that- like there was no hope for him, or like she was relieved- and he didn't want her to tell the rest of his family that she didn't want him to be a hero anymore. When he was tucked into his bed that night, tears still streaming sluggishly down his cheeks, he didn't want to hear her crying in the arms of her friends.

 

After that day, she began to guide him away from being a hero, pulling him left when he wanted to go right. His Auntie Nemuri would help her, distracting him with shiny new things like the latest fashion trends and shopping trips and new makeup styles, because his Mama had asked her to. His Uncle Tensei would also help her, showing him safer options by explaining how they contributed to society and by introducing him to new people to talk to, because he'd gotten injured in the line of duty and he wanted him to be safe like his Mama did. Meanwhile, his Uncle Shouta had flat out refused to dissuade him, and his Uncle Hizashi had never really acted one way or the other.

 

With only one of his five family members openly against it, Izuku was slowly swayed towards a safer dream, but it didn't work out. He was getting hurt even when he was being safe, because the other kids were being mean to him, even though he hadn't changed. He was being treated like a stupid clutz, because they didn't want to see that he could do the same things they could, even though he had some of the highest grades in his class. He was being defined as less than human, because he didn't manifest some random special ability, even though it was entirely out of his control.

 

They were wrong. His family wasn't trying to be mean, but they were wrong, so why should he let them keep him from what he wanted? He wasn't going to give up his dreams of being a hero; not now. Not when he knew that because they were wrong, there was still a chance that he could do it.

 

There was still a chance. Why wouldn't they see it?

 

When Izuku was six years old, having held onto his dreams with the fierce protection a dragon would display over its hoard, his Mama realized that he wouldn't be so easily distracted anymore. He knew that she realized it then because he heard her talking with Auntie Nemuri about it, about wanting to keep him away from influences that would encourage him, about how they wouldn't be able to hang out as often anymore. He heard her ask his Auntie Nemuri to help keep the others away from him, just until he lost interest in being a hero and decided to be something else...

 

Over the course of a year, his Mama had slowly distanced herself from the rest of her friends to the point that they didn't hang out anymore, and Izuku would only see them on the news. He'd still hear them from time to time over the phone, but even that began to occur less often, until it was only Inko and Izuku.

 

Izuku was still young, at eight years old, but he was smart enough to know that he couldn't say anything. He knew that if he did, his Mama would take away even more than she had already, and he didn't have much left. The next things to go would be his collection of hero merch- the presents that his Aunt and Uncles had given him over the years- and he didn't want to lose that too. He didn't want to lose them... he loved them...

 

'Mama, let them come back soon...'

 

When Izuku was eight years old, a new routine had settled within the home of the Midoriyas.

 

In the mornings, his Mom would make breakfast and leave for work, and he'd get up a while later for school. He'd go to school, get knocked around, and take care of his injuries when he got home. Then he'd practice his analysis and study for heroics, while his Mom wasn't around, and he'd grab himself a small snack when dinnertime came around. He'd switch over to doing his homework at the same time, and a few hours later his Mom would arrive home, and he'd make her a cup of tea. They'd share their days with each other, Izuku keeping his hero-related activities to himself, and then they'd have dinner together. The two would do the dishes after that, and go to sleep, and then it'd all repeat the next day.

 

It was so quiet, and cold, and lonely...

 

He didn't like it, but he couldn't do anything about it either. Nobody gave the quirkless boy the time of day, pushing him aside in favor of more important things, and his family was no different. They were all busy saving people's lives in their own ways, whilst denying him the right to do the same, and he couldn't change it. He had nothing to use as leverage, no handholds available to grasp and pull himself upwards with; there was nothing. There was nothing. There was nothing.

 

By the time Izuku had turned ten years old, the weight of the world already rested upon his shoulders. He carried the fear of losing the things he had left in the back of his mind. He carried the stress of supporting a mother who wouldn't do the same for him in dark circles beneath his eyes and a resentful heart. He carried the denial of his dreams in starburst burns and sweaty clothes and tear-stained pillows. Izuku was always anxious, always afraid, always bent over backwards beneath the weight that dragged him towards the center of the earth.

 

As time went on, and the weight only grew, he couldn't help but wonder when he was finally going to break.

It was becoming a thing.

 

Izuku had gotten locked on the roof again, after he'd finally recovered from that bruised tailbone- he figured out that it was only bruised by how long it'd taken to heal- and again he'd been there for hours before a passing hero helped him down. Then he'd gotten locked up there barely a week later, and after that it'd been the very next day, and Izuku was beginning to see a pattern forming. It was a pattern he very much didn't like, but it was there.

 

He was gonna be locked on the roof after school for eternity, and he'd keep getting stuck up there, unless he learned to climb down on his own when it happened. It would only stop when he proved that it didn't affect him anymore, and he could never do so with words or feelings, so he'd have to prove it through action instead.

 

He had to learn how to scale buildings.

 

Thus, the boy found himself outside in the middle of the night, lurking by the wall of the apartment complex that had the least amount of security on it. Just in case he'd missed something though, he was wearing a nondescript black hoodie and some contouring makeup to alter his features, so he wouldn't be easily recognized. He didn't want this to get back to his Mom for multiple reasons; the primary reason being that it would stress her out unnecessarily, but the secondary reason being that she'd surely put a stop to it if she heard what he was doing.

 

Taking a deep breath, Izuku looked down to his phone and watched the freerunning tutorial video again, before getting to work.

 

The first thing he figured he had to learn was how to land safely, in case he fell again, because that tailbone bruise wasn't fun. According to this video and many others like it, that meant learning how to roll over his shoulders, so the force of his impact with the ground was evenly distributed throughout his body. An even distribution meant that he'd be far less likely to take actual damage, so as long as he kept moving forward, he could roll out the landing safely.

 

For roughly an hour, the greenette practiced rolling over his shoulders until he felt that he had it down pat, and his shoulderblades were aching from the repeated impacts. He then checked the time on his phone- three in the morning- and figured that he had two more hours to work with. His mother tended to wake up at five-thirty each morning, and he wanted to have extra time so he wouldn't rush and make mistakes while sneaking back in, so he was giving himself half an hour as a buffer.

 

He'd planned, and planned, and planned this out thoroughly. As Uncle Hizashi said, he could never have too many options available to him, and while he'd been talking about his classes and career choices, it was still applicable. It was also one of Murphy's Laws of Combat- no plan survives contact with the enemy- and despite the fact that those were supposed to be entertaining more than educational, he still figured...

 

'It's better to be safe than sorry.'

 

Thus, Izuku spent two more hours on learning how to identify stable handholds and footholds, and how to efficiently maneuver around his environment. When five o'clock eventually rolled around, he pocketed his phone and made his way back into the apartment, stepping over the creaky floorboards as quietly as possible. It took him twenty minutes to make it into his room due to the excess care he'd taken, but it worked out, as he heard his Mom shuffling down the hallway just fifteen minutes later.

 

As Izuku pondered his success, he decided that for the near future, he'd continue sneaking out to practice for the same amount of time. Once he got faster about sneaking in and out of the apartment, he'd start practicing a bit longer, but for now he was still too slow about it. Maybe if he was particularly sneaky about it, he could even get one of his Uncles' numbers from his mom's phone and call-

 

"Izuku? Did you fall asleep with your light on again?"

 

With a fresh burst of nervous energy, the greenette darted over to his desk and sat down; opening a book, closing his eyes, and smushing his sweaty cheeks into the pages hard enough to get some red marks going. Not a moment later, his bedroom door opened, and quiet footsteps approached him from behind and to the left.

 

The light touch of Inko's fingers brushed his messy bangs away from his face, and Izuku listened to the fond sigh that followed.

 

"I should have known you'd study yourself to sleep," Inko murmured to herself, not for him to hear. "Keep up the good work, Izu, and don't make the same mistakes we did."

 

Soft lips kissed his brow, then the light turned off, and then the door closed. Izuku listened in silence for half an hour as his mother made them breakfast and headed out for work, before he sat up again and closed the book, threads of guilt and happiness and resentment intertwining in his chest. He knew that it'd hurt her if she found out he was doing dangerous things behind her back, but he was still happy to receive her praise...

 

With a quiet sigh, the greenette opened his eyes and stared at his room, colored a cold greyscale without the desk lamp giving it warmth.

 

'I'm sorry Mom, but I'm going to let you down. I know you hate the thought of me in danger, and I know you pushed your high school friends away to keep me from getting inspired by them, but I'm still going to be a hero.'

 

He stood up and made his way over to the window, to watch the slim figure of Midoriya Inko turn the corner on her journey to the agency. The sun was just peeking up over the horizon, lighting the path before her, and he knew that she was going to hand in a letter of resignation today. She was going to be taking a job in a civilian office soon, to further discourage his focus on heroism... too little, though, too little in the face of what he knew.

 

'I wish you wouldn't try so hard to stop me, Mom. I wish I could talk about my dreams without being discouraged or put down by everyone. I wish you knew how much it hurts; that the world doesn't believe in me, that you don't believe in me, that you told our family not to believe in me either.'

 

Turning away from the window, Izuku left his room and made his way to the kitchen, where the breakfast his mother had made was just beginning to cool down in the fridge. He took it out, and sat down at the table, eating the semi-cold food to the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.

 

'I wish you knew that I understand hatred now, and how even though I love you, you're one of the biggest reasons for it.'

 

Once his breakfast had been completely eaten, the greenette took his plate to the sink and rinsed it off, before setting it down and leaving it to soak. He then quietly made his way back to his bedroom, and looked at the walls that were bare of posters, at the shelves that held books and nothing more. If he wanted to look at his hero merch, he'd have to go into his closet and dig out the box in the back of it...

 

He settled for looking at his All Might backpack, which had been through a lot with him already, and which would go through even more with him. It was a sturdy piece, built to last, and it was just a little too big for him at his current height of a hundred and thirty-seven centimeters. He was still growing, through, and eventually it would fit. Maybe by the time it did, he'd have finally convinced his Mom that he could be a hero?

 

Ha, not likely.

 

Eventually, Izuku stopped staring at his backpack and began to gather his homework from his desk, slipping the two copies into separate folders. One copy was going to be in pieces by the time he entered the classroom, one way or another, but if he was quick then he'd be able to pass in the second copy. Then he'd have to outrun Katsuki for the rest of the day, and let himself get locked up onto the school roof as punishment for doing so... and then he'd have to climb down again, and get home before his Mom did, and once she was asleep he'd finally be able to relax again.

 

As the sun shone brightly outside his window, and color returned to his room, Izuku made his way out of the apartment. He bobbed his head to the music playing on his Uncle Hizashi's radio station- currently a motivational song about some guy getting back up every time he's knocked down- and made his way to school. It was going to be another bad day, but that was okay- once he experienced enough bad days, they'd become okay days by being his average, and then the days with even minor improvements would be good days.

 

It was going to be okay, eventually. It was going to be okay.

 

Maybe someday he'd even believe it.