Chapter Text
It’s been a really, really bad Saturday. Like, bad even by Izuku’s standards, and he’s not so oblivious that he can’t tell that’s saying something. He’d spent his entire life being told that he couldn’t achieve his dreams, but… It hadn’t come from heroes (other than that one showboat back when he was small).
All Might said he couldn’t do it, and he’d been proven right shortly after.
When Izuku watches Kacchan sulk away, probably exhausted from being held hostage for so long, he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.
He’s right… I didn’t help in the end. I guess it’s time to give up on that dream. Izuku heaves a sigh and turns around with a smile. Facing his mother will be pretty bad. She’s probably worried sick, so he takes a breath and jogs to the corner.
-
He’s barely turned the corner when All Might skids into the intersection, glancing around for a moment before deflating.
In the grand scheme of things, the hero was only a second too late.
-
Dinner is… emotional. Izuku almost died, which really makes his mom question the whole ‘hero chasing’ hobby he picked up. Luckily, he has the best mom in the world, and she leaves the subject alone after only poking him a little bit. His head isn’t at the dinner table at all. If his mother had told him he was floating back to his bedroom, he wouldn’t have been able to tell her any different.
The events of the day play through his head until slowly the picture starts to widen until he’s lying on his bed looking at pretty much his entire life.
I was useless today... He hums internally. The thought isn’t new, but it carries more weight now than might have before. There’s no chaser, no denial, no reassurance. And now, looking back through his life, he realizes something that… he probably should have realized sooner.
Outside of P.E., he’s never trained a day in his life.
For a little while he drifts in and out of consciousness. When he finally realizes it’s too early for bed, he drags himself to the computer and starts looking into options for becoming a police officer. Of course, there aren’t any high school tracks for that, so he’s got way too much time compared to the hero track. For good measure, he starts looking into a little bit of fitness material online. Beginner stuff.
Around one AM, he stumbles to bed and does his best to pass out. When he glances at the clock and reads five thirty, he resigns himself to not getting any sleep at all. Breaking in the day with push-ups and crunches, Izuku does a little more research and pins a list to his door before he gets his turn in the bathroom.
With a hand on the doorknob, he takes a look at his bedroom and frowns.
Maybe there’s a little too much All Might, now that he thinks about it.
-
Ms. Kenkō doesn’t hate him, but the glare she’s giving him is making Izuku second guess that. She’d been livid when he collapsed on the track and having to drag his shivering body into the PE office was probably not fun.
Being at school during that first week of his new ‘routine’ is hell for two reasons. One, he’s still a pariah. His friendly neighborhood bully has toned things down, but now Izuku is stuck being… Izuku. He still has a target on his back, and now he’s jumped into a villain attack. People aren’t just going to let that go, for some reason.
The second reason is that he’s genuinely embarrassed. Calling himself weak had apparently been a gross overestimation, because he can’t even manage ten push-ups during his second set. And that’s just the beginning. Running was… well, he couldn’t call it running.
For a few days, he honestly considers giving up and just looking for a desk job. Moving is agony, sleep is nonexistent, and life is… trying. But sitting in his room every night with the heroes looking at him, he can’t help but hear their tirades.
Some of them are encouraging, some aren’t.
After those come All Might’s words, and then Izuku’s own commitment. His old dreams turn over in their coffins, and he decides one more day can’t hurt. Even if he does get a desk job.
If he didn’t have a quirk, then he’d get stronger. Forget about being a hero, just help whoever you can, however you can.
The second week is even more painful than the first. By the start of the third week, he’s starting to ignore the agony in his limbs. At some point, they’ve started retaliating by giving out on him. Which leads to his current problem.
“So, Midoriya, would you like to explain why you collapsed during the run?” She raises an eyebrow over her scowl. Izuku already feels chastised. He really doesn’t like where this conversation is going, but… at the same time, he’s not doing anything wrong.
“Um… I started training?” The woman’s expression twists into something hard, forcing him to wave his hands frantically. “N-not to be a hero! Not… I just, um, that incident… a while back. The attack. I just realized that I’m not in great shape, and I wanted to try getting stronger. P-please don’t call my mom? I’m really fine, this is just… I’ll be fine in a minute.”
The woman sighs and rolls her eyes, taking a seat across from him.
“What kind of training are you doing, exactly?”
“W-well, I run a few kilometers, and I do sets of push-ups, sit ups and squats… all the standard stuff, you know? I have a list of everything that I run through daily. But I’m… really weak.”
“You’re doing all of that every day, huh? You should really stagger them. Work different portions of your body on different days.” She sighs as her knuckles tighten around her knees. Izuku nods, but he can tell her heart isn’t really in it. He considers it for the moment before he decides that would just be giving up, so he nods and mumbles something of an agreement. “So, what kind of goals are you working towards, if not being a hero?”
“Yknow… little things?” Izuku trails off under her stare, then shrugs and winces at the motion. “Lifting stuff?”
“Lifting stuff.”
“Y-yeah? Sorry for all the trouble, sensei.” Izuku mutters. The woman just sighs and slaps a hand down on his shoulder (OW) before she stalks towards the door.
“You’re a crazy kid, Midoriya, but I can’t tell you what to do. Just don’t keep overdoing it. Falling behind in school won’t do you any favors.”
She won’t let him do anything in P.E. for a week. He’s a little bit grateful, but he sticks to the routine. If he hurts this bad, then either its working or he’s not doing enough.
-
“My tolerance is building slowly so I’ll have to update my diet as well, but it’s only been a few weeks…” Izuku sighs, itching for one of his notebooks. He twirls his pencil through his fingers casually, though it stumbles once or twice along the way. Ever since his run in with All Might, and what Kacchan did to his last notebook, Izuku hasn’t brought another one to school. The only problem is that he’s ahead in most classes, and without something to do…
“I know most of you are going to head for the hero track...” the class erupts in momentary chaos as their history brings up the profession. Kacchan remains broody and quiet, instead of shutting them up. “BUT let me ask you! What have any of you done for your community?”
The statement makes Izuku pause and nearly sends his pencil flying. Several other members of the class stare at Kanekō-sensei in confusion.
“Heroes are known for taking down villains nowadays, but back in the beginning, heroes were known for being paragons of virtue, or something like that. Community service, aside from being a great way to keep our nation beautiful, is a fantastic resume builder and a great way to build social approval.”
A few days later he jogs out to the abandoned beach, a trash heap that’s basically a local legend. His body throbs as he jogs in place, scanning the dunes of rusted scrap, and a smile breaks out on his face.
-
After a month, he sets his Routine in stone (er… sand?).
In the mornings he runs to Dagobah beach, does three sets of push-ups, sit ups, squats, leg raises, planks and side planks, then he throws some of the garbage from the beach into the dumpsters in the parking lot. After school he’ll do his homework and run a little more, trying to go for distance in the second half. Each day he makes sure to run ten kilometers at least, and after two months he’s reaching fifty push-ups reliably. One hundred is still a long way off, but it’s progress and Izuku will take it.
The pain is excruciating. Muscles he didn’t even know existed without extensive research are out to kill him with EXTREME prejudice. According to the internet you’re supposed to take rest days, not push your muscles to work when they’re already hurting. Something about ‘second day pain means you’re building muscle’. Izuku is already weeks into the rut by the time he actually pays attention to that.
Lately he works out to burn away the haze that’s started clinging to his brain. Extra pain seems to be the easiest way to do that. No one ever said he was smart (other than his mother).
At least he doesn’t collapse in gym class again.
-
When summer rolls around, the pain starts to dissipate. He’s four months in, working up to one eighty reps per session with minute-and-a-half planks, but it catches him by surprise. Suddenly he has all this free time after homework and working out, despite working out for four to six hours a day.
He’s working a grip trainer at his desk one night, working on the profile for a new hero that debuted earlier that day, when the lead snaps under his pencil and he throws the object down. During a lazy spin, Izuku glances up at the wall and finds the heroes looking down at him. Kamui Woods, Endeavor, Hawks… All Might…
For the first time in months, he can’t just pass out and ignore the way they’re all staring at him. It makes him think of the mud-man incident, now long past, and he just feels… conflicted. Remembering his old dream makes him both a little sick and a little jittery. Eventually he just sighs and scratches the back of his neck, only to freeze when he realizes where he knows this feeling from.
Kacchan.
It’s… exactly the same. Growing up, acknowledging that his friend was…
The posters start coming down that night.
Slowly. Some are rare collectibles, he’s not a complete heathen.
-
Fall slowly turns to winter, and by the time October rolls into November, the cold is seeping into just about everything. Despite the slow start that comes with the chill, Izuku figures out very quickly that he can’t wear too much during his RoutineTM or he’ll just strip it off later. He runs hot, apparently, and the snow doesn’t bother him (though he could do without the steam rolling off his arms, a few people have mentioned that his quirk is so useful).
After breaking his original goal of ten kilometers in under two hours, Izuku started expanding his run. With a new goal of twenty Km, he runs through several of the quieter districts in an effort to learn a little bit more about the city. Occasionally he’ll find his way out to parks, but it’s harder to run those without people trying to talk to him.
This particular day, though, the cold is bad enough to leave patches of ice lying in wait for him. Despite his best efforts, he ends up falling on his ass shortly after he reaches his turning point.
“Excuse me…?” Izuku squeaks at the sound and spins around, nearly spinning too far on the same patch of ice. An old man stares at him through little glasses, somewhat amused by the display. He’s wearing a long apron with a familiar name embossed on it (white letters on red, a bold scheme that takes Izuku a moment to read through) and he’s… shivering.
“AH, sorry, can I help you?” Izuku asks, hoping that he isn’t in trouble again. The man smiles at him.
“I see you on this route every day. I was hoping you might be able to spare a moment to help me with some boxes…? They’re awfully heavy.” He sighs.
Izuku doesn’t really stop to think about it. The cook seems embarrassed, so he puts on his widest grin and agrees wholeheartedly. After lifting a stack of boxes onto the shelves in the back of the shop (of course the name was familiar, they were standing in front of the restaurant and he runs by it every day) he sticks around and does a few other little things. No one is in the restaurant, since it’s the beginning of December and snowing outside. Eventually, though, he sets the mop back in the storeroom and shuffles towards the door.
“I need to start heading back home now, but anytime you need help, let me know! I don’t mind taking a break from my run to help out.” Izuku calls.
“Wait, please!” The old man grabs him by the shoulder and hands him a few bills. “I can’t ask you to help me so much without paying you. Thank you very much for today.”
“I, wait, this is too much, really! It was just a few boxes…!”
“And my floors! And the lightbulbs, and the squeaky seat down near the end of the bar!” The old man laughs. “Thank you for your help today. Come by anytime you like, I’ll give you some good food!”
Izuku drifts out into the street, pocketing the money with a frown and checking his phone. When he sees how many times his mom called him, he pales. He makes it home in record time, ice be damned, stumbles through the door and flinches when his mother flies in his direction.
“Are you okay, Izuku? Did something happen?!”
“Mom, I’m fine!” Izuku has to carefully push her hands away when she tries to grab him, knowing that he’s probably cold from being outside. She frowns even more sternly, tears quivering at the corners of her eyes.
“What were you thinking?! Three hours late, Izuku, I was worried sick! I thought you’d been hit by a car, or… or caught by a villain…!”
“I’m so, so sorry mom! I was just helping someone out.” He swallows, pulling the money from his pocket and extending it to her, “I, um, one of the shops, a restaurant I think, the owner asked me for help moving some heavy stuff. He was old and no one else could help him today… H-he paid me, but I-I mean, can we use it for groceries… maybe?”
The tension has been growing in their house ever since the mud-man incident. Convincing his mom to let him go out jogging boiled down to putting a tracking app on his phone, though she never seems to use it. Despite his best efforts and the lack of hero talk, his mother has only gotten more and more worried recently. He’d have to be a complete idiot to miss the worried expressions turning to frowns of disapproval. Now she’s angry and miserable all at once just because he was late coming home.
He isn’t really sure why she looks at him this way; With shadows clinging to her eyes and anxiety pouring off of her in waves, wringing her hands and taking long breaths between half angry, half worried glances. Like he’s going to walk out one day and just… disappear. It’s been months. Nothing even remotely interesting has happened since, and she doesn’t know anything but the bare minimum.
After a minute or two, she just frowns and closes his hand around the money.
“Just… keep it, Izuku. You earned it, after all. But be careful, okay? Don’t just go wandering off with everyone who needs help.” She sighs. When she goes to reheat some dinner for him, he feels like he did something wrong.
He isn’t sure why he keeps hurting people, even though he’s trying so hard just to be a decent person.
The money doesn’t burn a hole in his pocket the way it used to. A year ago, he’d have turned around and bought some kind of collectible, but that was… It feels like a long time ago, now. With a week or two to think about it, he buys a couple textbooks so he can study further ahead of his classes and improve his math.
Of course he had no idea that the bookstore’s owner would ask for help during his visit, and when he returns home late (it’s only the second time but he feels like this is becoming a problem for some reason) with even more money in his pocket, his mother gives him that look again.
At least she doesn’t say anything this time.
-
It’s been eight months and a week since his encounter with All Might. The incident has ceased to exist anywhere other than Izuku’s restless dreams and the strained silence he maintains with Kacchan. Now that December is in full swing, he’s in the middle of exam season and he’s stuck looking at entrance exams for high school. Without U.A. on his choice list, he’s suddenly looking at several competitive academic high schools around Tokyo and there’s a very high chance of his getting into all of them. Apparently keeping up his rank over the years was worth it once he forgets about all those pesky “hopes and dreams”.
Ironically, he’s helping more people now that he’s given up than ever before. Nearly every shop owner on his route has stopped him to talk or ask for help, now that he’s proven himself to be a decent person. Word spread faster than he’d expected, and now he has a bit of a bank account. Aside from school materials and some new clothes, he doesn’t have anything to spend his money on.
His mother won’t let him buy things for the house. She’s more and more… short? Is that the term? Can he even say that without it being ironic? They’ve always been pretty good, but the cold frowns and the brief responses are making it harder and harder to stay at home. Besides sneaking in a few small things here and there, he ends up putting his money in a bank account that his mother co-signs for him. From there, he focuses on earning the best future he can.
Maybe she’s just worried that he’s lost his direction. Maybe he can fix this.
Christmas and the New Year’s festivals are held, and Izuku drifts around the outskirts. Fireworks are nice, but he doesn’t want to wade through all the people. Getting anywhere near the mess reminds him of the pressure in his chest and the days where he has trouble getting out of bed. His mom neglected to go, claiming that she wasn’t feeling well. The new yukata he’d bought her is lying on the couch, unused, and Izuku is out staring at the fireworks while he catches his breath.
They haven’t really talked in a month, and it… He just doesn’t know what to say. A tiny part of him really, really hates the way she looks at him. Even that angry thorn in his side loves her more than anything in the world. It doesn’t register when he reaches the top of the steps, already heading down the balcony towards the apartment on pure reflex.
He fits the key into the lock easily enough, but he’s not paying attention as he steps inside. Leaning against the door to kick off a shoe, he flails a leg and sways, suddenly lurching backwards as his shoe flies into the living room.
“Whoa…!” The world slows as Izuku pitches forward trying to correct himself, and his hand tightens on the door to try and hold himself up.
Something groans and gives way before he catches himself with his free hand. The resulting explosion of woodchips and noise leaves his ears ringing, already groaning as his body seizes up in response to the panic.
Izuku glances back at the entrance and winces when he sees half of his front door in his right hand, the other half hanging onto the frame by a shred of limp wood and paint. Releasing the doorknob exposes a mangled shadow of what it once was.
“IZUKU?!” His mother flies in from the living room and stops dead in her tracks, gaping at the carnage on their doorstep.
“Um… I can fix this, I think…” Izuku mumbles, trying to fight the fading buzz in his ears.
“Izuku…?! What… How did you…! IZUKU!”
“I’m fine! I, um, tripped…” Izuku sets his half of the door against the frame with a wince and moves to console his mother, who takes a step back and stares at him hysterically. She wasn’t feeling well, and now there’s cold air pouring into the apartment every second which is only going to make things so much worse.
“You TRIPPED?” His mother’s eyes actually bug out of her head. Izuku didn’t know they she could do that. “What… Izuku, what is going ON?”
“I wasn’t thinking mom, I just tripped. I’m sorry, I’ll go and get a new door and screw it in right now, okay? Just stay here, get a coat…”
“Don’t you DARE leave, Midoriya Izuku!” His mother’s bugged eyed shock turns to anger as he stands up to leave. The fact that she’s yelling shocks him so much that he takes a step back. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you tell me the truth RIGHT NOW, young man!”
“Wha… mom, I’m telling the truth, I swear!”
A few moments later, he shakes himself awake and runs a hand over the sore part of his cheek.
“I… I’ve let you do whatever it is you’re doing because I thought… maybe it was good for you, Izuku, but this…! I don’t know if its drugs, or, or… I don’t know!” She throws the blanket on the couch, glaring at him through the tears, and he can only stare blankly back at her in return. “You’re scaring me, Izuku! If you don’t want to tell me, fine! You’re grounded! And… And we’re going to the doctor on Thursday! You’re getting a drug test, if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Mom, I’m not taking drugs!” It’s hard to talk when he’s trying to piece together the missing frames of his life. She slapped him. Pretty hard, too, judging from the sting. The cold really isn’t helping.
“I don’t know if you think I’m stupid or you think it’s okay to just… just do whatever you want, but I am NOT stupid, Izuku! I’ve been keeping track of your phone! Some days you’re halfway across Tokyo, and you stop for hours at a time! All this ‘work out’ business, coming home with all this money, and now… How do you explain that door, Izuku! What kind of person rips a door in half without…”
“Without a quirk.” Izuku finishes the statement for her. Something cold spikes in his gut, then spreads until his entire body just feels numb and he can feel his brain buzzing behind his eyes. The fight drains out of his mother in those seconds and the tears start to fall. Considering this is their first fight in his entire life, Izuku can’t help but think this was a long time coming.
That thought doesn’t make it hurt any less.
For a few minutes, they stare at one another. Izuku doesn’t feel anything, not even the frosty wind blowing into their apartment, but the dam on his mother’s emotions finally crumbles. She collapses onto the couch, sobbing into the blanket as she tries to form words.
When he realizes they can’t talk like this, Izuku turns and walks out.
Somewhere about twenty minutes from his house is a hardware store that he wandered into back in August. At the time he’d been looking for gloves and a mask to help with his beach clean-up. Instead of actually buying anything he’d done a bit of work for the owner’s wife, Smith né something Sakura. Chatting with her about quirks had turned into another one of his late evenings out, and he’d become a frequent helper around the shop ever since. Jason Smith is like the Americans out of a television show: blonde haired, blue eyed, short beard and constantly shaggy. On anyone else, Izuku might have been a little worried. The American never seemed to care about his appearance.
He wanders through the front door in a haze, glances at the section full of doors and then shuffles towards the counter. Smith-san takes a single look at him and hops the counter to grab Izuku by the shoulders.
“Yo, Izuku-kun, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Um… S-Smith-san,” Izuku responds in English out of habit, though the words feel strange on his tongue. “Can I buy things? Need a door.”
“You need a door? What happened? Hey, come here,” Izuku is sitting in a chair running a hand over his cheek before he even realizes that Jason led him here. “Talk to me, little guy, what happened?”
“Got in a fight with mom.” Izuku takes a breath and tries to focus, though it just makes his chest hurt. “Tripped and… Rip… Breaked the front door. I breaked…?”
“Broke, I think… wait, you tripped and broke your front door? And your mom, what did she do, why were you fighting?”
“The door. She…” Izuku blinks as Smith swims into harshly into focus, then shakes his head to try and clear the shock from his brain. “Mom slap me.”
Jason exhales harshly through his nose, and Izuku realizes quickly that that’s probably not the best way to say it. He switches over to Japanese, doing his best to keep it brief.
“She’s worried about me. Thinks I’m taking drugs or something. I’m fine, I just need to fix the door. Mom isn’t feeling well lately, and it’s cold.” He says quickly, waiting for Jason to nod in response.
“All right. Let’s grab a door and see what I can do. I’ll drive you back, okay? You’re not taking a door and the tools all back to your place wearing a shirt and shorts. Too cold for that. Lemme just get Sakura, all right?”
Izuku nods. Jason’s wife is native Japanese, after all. The man isn’t the best with their language, despite living here for three years or so. Sakura always says that he’s a bit slow when it comes to those things, but he’s an amazing craftsman.
The drive back to his apartment takes about as long as it did to jog over to Smith’s shop, and when they arrive the couple spare him a glance.
“Yeah, I’d say you ‘breaked’ it.” Smith snorts.
Sakura-san makes tea and sits with his mother while they fix the door. Jason has to stop him from ripping pieces off the frame and shows him how to remove the hinges with the drill. Izuku follows the directions easily, smoothly, but he doesn’t actually remember any of it when they’re done. After admiring their handiwork, Jason heads to the kitchen and sits with his wife and Izuku’s mother.
Izuku bows to the pair and mutters a thank you before he heads to his room.
-
Before school starts up, his mother takes him to a physician.
First things first, his mother stubbornly demands that they do every test they possibly can. Quirk factor, drug test, fitness, health, DNA… Izuku sits quietly for the entire ordeal, listening to the doctor try and steer his mother away from all the procedures that keep piling up. They dig up old records, but his mother refuses them. She’s nearly crying when the doctor finally sighs and relents.
Izuku is a bit glad that the empty feeling stuck with him. Stripping down to his underwear in front of the doctor and his mother barely registers until she makes a little noise and the doctor’s pen skitters across the clipboard. He floats through the sample taking and testing until he’s told to put his pants on, and blinks when the doctor shines a light in his eyes.
“Midoriya-kun, would you mind telling me how you’re feeling?”
“I’m fine. I haven’t been sick in months.” Izuku mutters. The doctor hums and pulls out the little hammer used for testing reflexes.
“That’s fine, but what about emotionally? Physically? Are you feeling tired, or faint? Maybe you’re experiencing mood swings…?”
“No… Just tired, but I’ve been working out a lot. Made a habit of it since… April,” Since All Might. “I’ve had some trouble focusing recently, though.”
“I see…” The doctor taps his leg a few times with the hammer, but he barely manages a twitch. Eventually he sighs and rubs his finger on Izuku’s knee, right beneath the kneecap. “I’m going to have to hit a little harder, Midoriya-kun. Perfectly normal, if you’re feeling tired and having trouble focusing.”
A jolt runs through his leg, from his hip to his ankle, and the doctor yelps when Izuku’s leg straightens in a blur. Some papers on the counter flutter.
“Well, you’re healthy!” The doctor chuckles nervously, moving to check the other leg.
-
Two weeks later, his mother drags him out of school early and Izuku is manhandled back into the doctor’s office. His mother, despite being even tinier than he is these days, can only drag him by the hand but considering how much force she puts behind it there’s really no other word for it.
“Well, we’ve got all the tests here. At your request, we ran the DNA and quirk factor exams, though that’s usually secondary to a physical exam. So, here are the results.” Izuku’s mother takes the folder, then looks up at the doctor as he smiles kindly and looks over towards Izuku. “Before I get into that, though… Midoriya-kun, would you mind removing your shirt?”
Now that he’s a little more lucid, Izuku blushes under the attention. He’s been looking at enough body building videos and health websites recently that he knows he’s not scrawny anymore. Even though he never had any plans to follow in All Might’s footsteps exactly, he can’t help but wonder how anyone can stand wearing spandex all day.
He’d be lying if he said that he doesn’t catch himself running a hand over his new muscles every so often, even if it’s embarrassing to show it off. Seeing All Might up close left him with a constant reminder of just how far he has to go, but…
It’s nice not feeling useless.
At the very least, he’s strong enough to do some physical labor.
The doctor pokes his shoulder with the cap of his pen and hums quietly.
“Do you lift weights, Midoriya? Or do any kind of training with a professional?”
“No, not really. I’ve kind of been researching as I go, putting together a routine based off what I wanted to do. But everything online says weightlifting could be bad if you start too early. I do a little bit of community service, but that’s it.”
“Well that’s very good. You’re nearly fifteen, though, so weightlifting isn’t going to affect you badly. Honestly, there’s a risk of bulking up too much before you reach your full maturity, but in your case, I’d say you can do quite a bit before you’re in any danger.”
Izuku nods, making a mental note to ask one of the teachers if he can use the weights at school before he graduates. The doctor pokes him again before he pulls off his glasses and leans back to face Izuku’s mother.
“So, about the tests. Midoriya-kun is in fact quirkless. Everything comes back negative, and his drug tests are clean as well. In fact, your son is probably the single healthiest person I’ve checked up in the past several years. What’s odd is that he’s managed to reach levels of some professional athletes without doing any weight training. His resting heart rate is somewhere around fifty beats per minute, dropping as low as the high forties, and the density of your muscle mass is a bit frightening considering your age… but not unrealistic, I suppose. You did throw several of us for a loop, considering your last checkup was barely more than a year ago.” The man chuckles weakly, despite the air growing somewhat frigid. “W-well, my only recommendation is changing how much protein you’re eating, and maybe consider taking some vitamins…”
Izuku keeps his eyes on the floor as his mother receives the news, and he does his best to keep them away from her face until they finally reach home. Without really talking about it, they both shuffle into the kitchen and settle there, letting the silence start to boil. He waits for the inevitable, and eventually she breaks the silence.
“I…” Seeing his mom start to cry, in that moment, inflates something in Izuku’s chest until it’s hard to breathe. He’s very much aware of how easily the pair of them tear up and cry, but this time his mother is fighting back real tears, and it’s his fault. At some point, he’d started hiding things and stopped thinking of her feelings. “Izuku, I’m…”
“I’m sorry, mom,” Izuku’s fists tighten till his knuckles turn white against the grain of the table. “I haven’t… I thought everything was fine, but I guess I’ve been keeping things to myself too much.”
“No, Izuku…!” His mother blew her nose as the tears began flowing more heavily. “I was just worried about you, Izuku. You’re my baby boy… and all this, after that slime villain mess, I thought maybe you were trying to be a hero, taking something…”
“I’m not going to be a hero, mom.” Izuku snaps. His throat burns even more when she flinches, eyes widening in shock at the statement. “I didn’t tell you everything about… what happened.”
To her credit, she stays silent as he tells her everything that happened. All Might’s verdict, the heroes’ scolding, and his decision to try and get stronger. It takes less time than he thought it would. For such a massive impact on his life, the retelling only takes ten minutes.
“I’m not going to be a hero, mom. This, the exercise, the fitness, I’m just… trying something. Maybe I can help people, like I’ve been doing. And, and I’m going for a normal high school…! I even showed you,” He trails off, because he knows that somehow he hadn’t done enough.
“I thought you were a sidekick, illegally.” Inko whispers, clutching her hands tight, “Or… or a villain, maybe… I don’t know, Izuku. I was just so scared, and… we never talk about it. You wanting to be a hero, or being…”
“I’m quirkless, mom. We tested it twice.” Izuku croaks, “I’ve given up on being a hero. So, don’t worry about that, ok?”
“Izuku… I’m sorry…” She wheezes under her breath. “I’m so, so sorry, baby…”
“Don’t be, mom.” Izuku cracks a smile even though he wants to cry. “I’ll be fine, okay? So, don’t worry anymore. I’m gonna make you proud, no matter what.”
“I’m always proud, Izuku.” Inko hisses, lunging to grab his hand across the table. “Even when I’m mad, I’m so proud of you. You… You’re the best son I could have ever asked for.”
Izuku chuckles weakly, and the tears start to fade from her eyes. There’s a less depressing angle to her eyes now.
“I swear, Izuku. I… No matter what you do, from here on, I’ll support you with everything I have. We’re a family. Even if you tear through the door every other day, we’ll make it work.” They both laugh a bit at that. Her determination doesn’t disappear though. “I love you, Izuku. More than anything in the world.”
This time, his smile is real, and wide enough to hurt.
“I love you too, mom. More than anything.”
-
For the next week, Izuku’s eyes linger on the door. He’s still not entirely sure how he ripped the door in half, or how he crushed the doorknob the way he did, but things have been… dark. Now that he and his mom have restored the warmth of their apartment, it’s all he can think about.
The doctor said he’s quirkless.
He’s been tested it twice.
But this leads to a new problem. Izuku has no friends. Outside of his mother and the people he helps out occasionally, there’s no one he can turn to for help figuring things out. And if he tries without someone there to save him… well, he doesn’t exactly want to think about that.
So he waits for a week. When Sunday rolls around he finishes off breakfast quickly and does the dishes, then sits down across from his mother.
“Hey, mom? Do you mind, uh… helping me with an experiment?” She zeroes in on him immediately when he says it. He can’t help but wonder if she’s been thinking about the same thing.
“What kind of experiment, honey?”
“I don’t know how I broke the door.” Izuku can see her expression twist up as he starts, so he barrels forward before she can say anything. “I mean, I’m quirkless, but that didn’t make any sense. So, I was hoping you could come down to the beach and watch me try something out.”
“Izuku… Are you sure about this?” His mom looks worried. Not horrified or scared, just worried. Izuku takes that as a win, because he’s kind of worried too.
“Yeah. Please? I just… need answers.” After a moment, she nods and sighs.
Twenty minutes later they’re on the way down to the beach, chatting nervously. She hasn’t seen Dagobah in months, and it’s not like many people other than Izuku go there. Izuku pauses on the stairs when she looks at the trash and makes a little happy noise.
“You’ve done a lot of work, hmm?”
“I don’t really know, it’s just a little bit here and there.” Izuku rolls up his sleeves and wanders towards one of the piles. “So… I’m just gonna go for broke here, okay?”
“Just be careful, honey.”
Izuku isn’t sure what he’s expecting. He glances over the trash until he finds something big, a bike, and he pulls it out singlehandedly. Gradually he finds bigger and bigger things in the trash, then tosses them behind him. The little noises his mother makes sort of fade into the background as he starts getting frustrated. Eventually, he decides that playing it safe isn’t going to answer his question.
His mother makes a much louder noise when he stops in front of the fridge.
It’s larger than he is, nearly twice his size, and still standing solidly. Even with all the weight training in the world, which Izuku has never done in his life, lifting the fridge would still be near impossible.
“Izuku, what are you thinking?”
“I’m just thinking.”
“That one looks a lot bigger than the other ones, honey, maybe…”
“Don’t worry mom, I shouldn’t even be able to get it off the ground.” He grins in spite of himself. Even trying is completely ridiculous, but that’s what got him here, right? And if he can get it off the ground even a little bit, then he can be proud of himself. Then they can go home, and he can go back to being normal.
Getting the right squat form took him nearly a week, but he falls into it easily now. His mother squeaks as he puts his fingers under either side of the trashed machine and grunts, putting as much of the weight as he can in his legs.
The breath he’s holding falls out of him as he stands up, holding the fridge in his hands as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. His legs burn some, but his lower back is fine.
“I-I-Izuku…?!”
“I got it…! I’m fine, really.” He grunts as he shifts the machine in his hands and lifts higher, pushing it up over his head and onto his shoulders. When he turns to his mom her eyes are bugging out of her head again. “I’m… Oh.”
He’s not fine. He’s better than fine, but that… That’s a problem in and of itself, isn’t it? First the door, and now this. All the optimism in the world can’t help him justify this after less than a year of working out.
Because now he’s not just a quirkless kid anymore.
“Izuku HOW, what are you DOING!? Put that down this instant!”
“I can barely even feel it.” Izuku grunts, then leans the machine over until he’s got one hand under the tall side, and he lowers his free hand. Balance isn’t terribly hard, and despite his expectations his wrist doesn’t hurt. “See? I’m fine!”
He squawks as she faints, dropping the fridge to the sand behind him as he runs to catch her.
-
The next day he catches the P.E. coach in the office. She gives him a look, one that promises she wants nothing to do with him, but he sits down and stays until she finally relents.
“I was hoping I could try out the bench press after school.” His teacher arches an eyebrow, and he scratches the back of his neck. “I was hoping you might be able to supervise me if I tried out the bench press. If you have time.”
“Depends on how long you need. I have about a half hour.” She says. “I take it you’ve been keeping up your work outs?”
“Y-yeah, something like that.” He hasn’t passed out in gym since the first time he collapsed, but she doesn’t seem any happier about this. “I just… don’t have the money for a gym membership, and I wanted to see how strong I’d gotten before I graduate.”
“Midoriya… I can respect this whole self-improvement thing you’re trying. Really. But… what are you after, kid? You’re quirkless. Are you looking for fitness to change that?”
“I know, sensei. I just need your help this once.” He kind of wants to cry. But that would be really uncomfortable, and he’s so close to never having to come back. Right now, he needs answers more than anything.
“Fine. I’ll supervise you for a few tries on the bench press, but don’t slack off, okay?” The woman sighs as she grabs her keys and trudges out. Izuku follows her quickly, ignoring the looks people shoot his way.
The gym is small, since their school isn’t exactly the best. But it has some decent old equipment, and all Izuku needs to do is-
Okay, he has no idea what he’s doing. But he’s doing something.
“How much can the press bar take, sensei?”
“We never put on more than two hundred, but,” She glares a little more harshly when he waits for her to continue, but grudgingly mutters, “the max on the bars is four hundred.”
“Thanks sensei.” Izuku decides not to waste time like he did at the beach. Starting slow won’t get him anywhere closer to the answers he needs. He ignores the noise of disbelief from his sensei when he stacks four hundred on either side of the bar and looks back to her expectantly.
“I can’t spot that kid, even if you somehow did manage to grow a quirk.”
“Is there anyone who can?” Izuku gives her his best pleading look. The look she gives him could kill, but luckily her quirk is minor muscle supplementation not laser eyes. After a minute she throws her hands into the air and storms out.
“I’ll get Kanekō…”
Kanekō-sensei is actually very impressive without his suit jacket on, but Izuku shelves that thought as the man gives him a run down on how he should be lifting the bench press. After giving the man a heartfelt thank you, Izuku takes a few breaths and puts a little force behind his hands.
The bar lurches off the stand. Kanekō-sensei leaps to catch it, only for it to stabilize a moment later. Izuku mutters out some hurried assurances as he stares up at the bar, reveling in the fact that he can feel some strain beneath the weight. Maybe he’s getting addicted to the pain if he’s enjoying it after going without for like, two weeks. Pumping the bar up and down ten times puts a healthy burn in his arms before he racks the weight and stands up.
His teachers don’t have anything to say in response. Izuku takes a breath, then looks at the bar and frowns. He remembers the fridge balanced on one hand and wonders if maybe he can do even more. There’s still time, after all.
He grabs the bar with one hand, planting his knee squarely on the bench, and despite Kanekō-sensei’s warning he pulls. Getting the bar off the rack takes effort, enough that his wrist pops a bit and aches pleasantly, proving that he’s not All Might. Just an inhumanly strong quirkless kid. Before he replaces the bar, he lifts it up like a dumbbell once, twice, three times.
The sound of the bar hitting the rack is really, really satisfying.
But before he can worry about adding weightlifting to his routine, he’s got some explaining to do.
-
When his mother reads over his complete routine (the one he does on Sunday mornings, when he has no school and a full day to study and work out), she gapes at him.
“…You were just working out…” She mutters, shaking a couple aspirin from the bottle with shaking hands. “You were actually just working out, but… Izuku, this is beyond human.”
Izuku shrugs.
“I didn’t really think about that till I’d already started doing it.” They share a look, both of them equally uncertain. “But it’s not like I can do anything about it now, right?”
-
The beach cleanup goes much faster now that he’s not dancing around the edges. Which, surprisingly, teaches him something else. Jagged metal apparently does nothing to his hands, despite using a healthy amount of lotion and hand soap. Nothing cuts him during his little trips into the disease-ridden beach, and he doesn’t even catch a cold. Just before Izuku graduates middle school, Dagobah beach is a sparkling paradise.
Izuku eventually decides on a high school that has a large and competitive academics department, as well as a popular sports program. Graduation is quiet. No one looks at him twice. Kacchan doesn’t acknowledge his existence.
Everything goes perfectly.
One thing about graduating is an abundance of free time. Before anything else, he tears down his old routine and looks into more rigorous work outs. Push-ups are joined by fingertip push-ups and handstands. He throws a few exercises in for his lower abs and lengthens the times and reps on just about everything. For pure amusement, since it’s tested by Phys-ed at the beginning of every year, he throws in sideways jumps for a few minutes.
His first day trying the new Routine sets his rep count at two hundred all around (some reaching close to three hundred) with five minutes for handstands, planks, and core. Then he deicides to put a little more effort into his run… And accidentally leaves a small crater in the sidewalk outside his apartment complex, which earns him a scolding and another incredulous stare. Despite his hope, he decides to cap his runs at twenty kilometers and never, ever runs faster than a hearty jog.
Shortly after his graduation, an apartment complex gets decimated by a villain attack. After a brief internal debate, he ducks under the line of construction tape and mentions offhandedly that he’ll help with the larger chucks of concrete as long as they don’t mind. There’s a bit of a ruckus, since he’s a middle schooler and he’s just running around, but when he mentions community service the manager of the site gives Izuku his card and clears him, as long as they have parent’s permission.
After the first day, no one bats an eye seeing him running around with a hardhat, though some of them don’t really get over seeing him haul rubble twice his size off the piles.
-
Izuku likes to think that he’s come a long way since he met All might. Looking back, it’s… painfully obvious how much an otaku he was, and maybe that’s not something to be ashamed of but at the same time he really should have gone about it differently.
Between his working out and his… whatever-it-is… (he’s half convinced that All Might infected him with some sort of super-human virus because Izuku still has no idea what kind of quirk lets you be the greatest super hero of all time without a freaking stomach) he’s learned how to actually get out of his personal space and talk to people. Sure, helping people out and making small talk isn’t the same as making friends (that art still eludes him) but it’s progress.
Nowadays his old hero merch is stashed away in the closet, where it can’t bring up old memories or collect enough dust to wear down the paint. He still keeps up with heroes on the net and makes profiles after school, but it’s tempered with a need to do more than just figure out what people are doing with their quirks. Some of the textbooks he’s picked up are books on psychology and history, as well as some war strategy books.
Even if no one at his new school knows him, he doesn’t take his old hobby to school or talk about heroes more than necessary. His fingers still itch to be writing something down, but (after losing two or three pencils to the ceiling as a result of his twirling habit and his unchecked strength) he makes sure to fill his class time with studying and his free periods with more studying.
He’s still invisible. No new bullies have followed him to this new school, and no one really has time to care about his quirklessness (?) since he’s number three in his class.
Despite all his progress, everyone else is still… well, everyone else.
Villains are still a thing, but people usually dissolve into traffic and blog posts when it comes to chaos and anarchy, instead of becoming victims (victims have the title of “poor bastards”). Even if Izuku spends a decent chunk of his spare time cleaning up after villain attacks (he’s up to two construction sites now, and they’re asking if he wants to sign on with a company) he hasn’t actually stumbled onto an attack since the mud-man incident.
He’s walking home from school three days into the first term when the storefront on his left explodes.
It’s surreal, standing in the smoke with musical sheet metal blocking everything else from his ears. All around him people panic and run away screaming. He blinks and glances towards the building, wondering if anyone…
Two villains are there now, wide eyed and screaming at him. One has a schoolgirl clutched in his arms, gun pointed either at her head or at Izuku’s chest, while the partner has a plastic bag full of cash dangling from his gun-hand and a case of beer tucked up under his left arm.
Sadly, whatever they’re trying to say is lost on him since, you know, they just blew up the DAMN BUILDING. He points a finger at his chest, still a bit dizzy since his hearing is just now swimming back into existence, and the villains are now making waving their arms at him while screaming. At least he thinks they’re screaming at him.
A flash of light catches his eye and suddenly the world stutters into slow motion. He’s on the back foot when he glances down, reaching out lazily and snatching something out of the air. When he holds it up, it takes a second to register that the little piece of metal in his hand is most likely a bullet, that the thugs just tried to shoot him.
When he looks back at the villains, they’re gone, sprinting down the street as their hostage stumbles forward and collapses into Izuku’s arms. Police swarm the scene instantly, taking the girl from his arms and asking him questions even though he still can’t really hear. After a few of them have all tried getting through, he shrugs and holds up the bullet.
“I think they shot me?”
The rest of the incident is a whirl. Paramedics and police are motioning him over to ambulance so they can check him over while his hearing comes back. Apparently, some heroes caught the villains before they got further than a block, so that’s something. Just as things start fading back into perspective and Izuku can pick the buzz of the sirens out of the whine, the hostage stumbles over to him and bows, saying something that’s too garbled for him to understand as her parents drag her away.
A paramedic lady looks him over with a stern expression, tapping him all over and checking his pulse before she asks about his hearing. It’s come back just enough for him to answer questions, so he tells her how he was walking by when the building blew up.
Before they let him go, he has to give the police his statement and his phone number. They send him along with the assurance that he’ll be questioned again later.
His mother takes one look at him when he walks in and frowns, though she doesn’t panic. Izuku can’t blame her, considering his uniform is shredded. They’ll need to get another one. Despite how much Izuku wants to shower, Izuku sits at the table and gives his mom the rundown. Afterward she looks at his arm and gives him the most disbelieving look ever.
“You’re really okay? How is that even possible?”
“I’ve got no idea.” Izuku shrugs, looks down at his hand and opens his fingers a few times. A soft snort escapes him as his mother pokes his forearm and hums.
“You feel normal, not bomb-proof.” She groans and runs her hands up into her hair, looking at him with wide, tired eyes. “Izuku, what is happening to you?”
“I’m just as surprised as you are!” Izuku grins a little bit, because what else can he do? “Guess this explains why I never got sick from the beach, huh?”
“Well, I suppose I don’t need to worry over you so much anymore… seeing as you can catch bullets and walk away from bombs.” Inko sighs, and Izuku can’t help but take one of her hands in his own.
“Hey, mom… you’re taking this… R-really well, considering…”
“I told you I’d support you, honey,” His mom smiles at him for a moment before she sighs and tightens her fingers around his. “Honestly, even if this is all CRAZY, I can’t help be a little bit relieved. You’re safe, and no one got hurt.”
“I really expected you to panic when I said I got shot.” Izuku grumbles, grinning as she rolls her eyes and swats his arm.
“Who wouldn’t?! Speaking of which, how’d you even see the bullet? That isn’t normal, Izuku!”
“I don’t know! It seemed pretty normal! Like, it was fast but…” Izuku frowned. “I guess, everything would seem normal while I’m moving at average speed…? But maybe my perception sped up with the adrenaline, or my mind just doesn’t bother overclocking axons for something as slow as daily life. If I could see and catch the bullet then I was moving relatively the same speed and my brain was perceiving the bullet somehow, though that’s theoretically impossible bullets move faster than…”
“Izuku!”
“Eh?” Izuku blinks as his mother pinches his ear. “Was I doing it again?”
“Mmhmm. Look, honey, let’s not worry about it. Whatever this is, just be careful.” She frowns, but Izuku grins. At least this time, they’re talking. He knows she’s not mad, because he really couldn’t have done anything about this one. At least he’s not alone.
-
The police call him in the next day. Actually, they’re waiting for him after school and he’s not really sure what people think when he gets in the back of the cruiser. Some of them heard he was caught up in the attack (hence his brand-new uniform) but most will talk later.
He’s retold his story for the third time when a man in a trench coat arrives. Izuku isn’t sure what to make of him, other than this is probably way, way beneath his job code.
“You’re, um… Midoriya? Midoriya Izuku?” The man asks, sitting down in a chair pulled from somewhere. Izuku nods and sighs. “I’m detective Tsukauchi. Sorry, but I just need you to repeat the story one more time, ok? Start with your details, name, the date, your date of birth, quirk…”
When Izuku says quirkless, everyone stares at him for a moment before the officer waves at him to continue. Once he’s finished, the detective stares at him, then looks at the file.
“Could you, um.” Tsukauchi frowns, then sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “Could you say your details again?”
“You have a lie detection quirk?” Izuku blinks. The detective opens his mouth a few times, then finally coughs and nods.
“Something like that. But I need you to repeat…”
“Would my doctor’s office help more?” Izuku frowns. “They just did another test a few months ago.”
“That… will work.” Tsukauchi nods.
“Um… I guess you can’t tell me about your quirk?” Izuku tries, smiling a bit. The detective snorts and shakes his head.
“Sorry, Midoriya-kun, but no. Police secrets.” He stands up. Izuku laughs weakly, both because the man is smiling and that’s great, but he really wants to know about that quirk.
Instead, he’s driven home and left on the curb in front of the complex, with a friendly wave from the officer who’d caught him during the attack.
His mother laughs when he tells the story.
“At least I’m not the only one who didn’t know what to do!”