Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya is four when his life crumbles, five when he finds out he's just a 'little different', around six when he finds out he's clinically crazy for seeing things and speaking to non-existent and inanimate objects and people. he's seven when Kacchan hurts him for the first time.

"- And finally, Midoriya Izuku with the highest score in the class - a 100/100."

The substitute finishes the grades. He passed, again.

"he's cheating! he's crazy, crazy and quirk less with those non-existent friends and speaking figures!"

A kid yells from the back. he's had this rodeo before. An accusation of cheating which every teacher falls for. Sometimes Izuku wonders if it would be different if he had a quirk alongside his schizophrenia.

"His weird, quiet murmuring is probably him cheating from the figures he sees!"

Another yells. He's tuned everyone out- a dangerous thing as his thoughts lurk with the people in his head.

"You should just... kill them all?  It's quick and easy... and who knows! maybe you'll pave the way for quirk less revolution!"

A figure whispers into his ear, Midoriya swears he can feel multiple arms wrapped around his body- arms, neck, face, waist, wrists, legs-. They always do this. he swears there's one for everything- hunger, pain, frustration, sadness, joy- They're constantly bothering him with their views and opinions on situations.

"Shut it."

Midoriya mumbles to himself, head down as he draws a rough sketch of Eraser Heads signature capture weapon.

"OoooO! how fancy- oh how I love all the heroes...! I can't wait to become one!"

This figure... always looks like a replica of him when he was younger, before his dreams were ruined by his first diagnosis. It's kind of uncanny. Midoriya shakes his head, looking up and around the class. He's surrounded by shadowed figures- some he makes out to be tall, short- look like him or like characters he's drawn before. some look like his older drawings of what he wanted his hero suit to look like before everything.

It was...

It was Suffocating.

Constantly looking around to see his entire life before everything went wrong, felt as if he were back in the stuffy doctor's office reeking of sanitiser and medication, hearing his Quirk lessness for the first time all over.

His thoughts are broken up by the sound of a bell and cheering as everyone packs up to leave, the substitute trying to shout over the noise about homework and high school applications.

Highschool.

Midoriya wasn't even sure if he was going to go to high school at all. God knows his mother is working long shifts at the hospital, only to come home to cook and clean and sleep for an hour or two before her next shift.

The only reason he got good grades was to see the chances of a high school scholarship for all his years, only for them all to reject him for being quirk less. What a joy.

The silence never lasts long around Izuku. Theres always one conversation or another around him which he partakes in- sometimes.

Midoriya used to think his schizophrenia was a gift from God- a present for the lonely, slightly depressed quirk less kid, but nowadays he thinks of it as a curse from the devil himself.

He walks down the path, watching his feet as it steps over cracks and chips in the old concrete, crossing from the slightly trashy area of his school into the nicer part of town- where all the hero agencies and whatnot were.

He swatted his hands at the feeling of hands tugging on his hair and ears, the hushed whispers from the figures around him.

he probably looks crazy- he is crazy.

Surely, it's not normal for whatever goes on in his head to- y'know… actually go on in his head? Izuku wonders if others should hear quiet conversations from their alters about their willingness to die if he needed too or whether he should turn the water high enough, so it burns but doesn't boil him alive. After all his alters are… well his own mind except… visually, right?

He continues strolling down the path, hearing the quiet mumbles of conversation as he passed- some people noticing his bright red sneakers, becoming the main topic of conversation with sneers and pitying glances in his direction.

The sound of a rustle and soft scraping against the ground draw Izuku into the present from his thoughts and the conversations. All of him pay attention to the flyer that landed in front of him.

For once there’s silence as he bends down and grasps the poster in his hand, standing up and holding it with both hands, reading over it.

In large bold words it read ‘Hiring’ in yellow writing, below it was a description, words describing what they were in search for. An analyst and assistant, hopefully as one person but if in dire can be two people. A large image of Hawks on the bottom right, smiling with his red wings spread out across the poster.

Huh.

Izuku pockets the poster, folding it neatly as he continues walking, head low once more as he passes alleys.

He reaches his house- an apartment for two- and finds it empty, per usual.

His mum was probably still at work, most likely to be there all night once more in the nurse’s quarters.

Midoriya heads straight to his room, placing his bag on the bed and pulling out his latest Hero analysis. They used to read ‘hero analysis for the future’ on the front but he gave up on the future, only deciding to be in the present.

He doesn’t hope think there’s a future for a quirk less, schizophrenic kid in a world of quirks and normies. He opens it, flipping through the pages before chucking it aside, pulling a box from under his bed, filled to the top with his hero analysis’s, running though the books before reaching #23. He flicks through the pages before landing on the one detailed on Hawks.

He reads through it, about all he’s gathered about personality, behaviour, how he treats people and his motives, how he looks, key features… etcetera.

After a few minutes of reading, he pulls the flyer from his pocket and contemplated emailing for a chance at the job.

He emails them a few minutes later.

Midoriya's head hurts with a migraine, a common thing to follow with the always chattering voices and figures.

the drawing of Present Mic Infront of him speaks to him- it sounds like Izuku except how he'd sound if he were trying to impersonate Present Mic- in a calming matter, soothing his head slightly as it softly tells him everything will be alright and go well.

God does Izuku hope it does.

He lays down, staring at his ceiling, hoping everything would be alright like it said.

he shuts his eyes and hopes.

Chapter Text

A few weeks passed before the first interview, Midoriya is stood at the end of the long line of people waiting for the chance to be accepted as Hawks personal analyst and assistant.

“Everyone’s dressed so formally...”

His younger self tugged at his shirt. Izuku swears he feels it all, swears he sees the fabric move with its hands. He always swears.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt and dress pants- the most formal stuff inside his closet aside from his school uniform, and his school bag. It’s the only other thing that doesn’t have heroes faces or logos on them. He really needs a new closet, hence a plus side of the money earned from this job- if he gets it.

Midoriya hopes there’s not a dress code for the interview- sure he knows first appearances matter, but he hopes he has a chance to get accepted.

That’s if they don’t mind the mental issues and quirk lessness he should be decent...-Ish.

Izuku indulges in the conversations around him- with himself to pass time. He knows people are looking at him, I mean, who wouldn’t? He looks crazy.

He moves up the line slowly, most people exiting the room with frowns and furrowed brows, some snarling at him as they walk past.

He knows most people have taken notice to his bright red sneakers, easy to pick out from everyone else’s in the room.

He reaches around second in line, able to look inside of the office. He was only able to see large red wings and feathers skewed everywhere along the ground and table before the door shuts

Midoriya is going in after this guy’s interview is over.

He’s starting to really feel the reality of this situation.

He’s trying to get a job, before graduating middle school and isn’t even planning to go to high school. He didn’t even read over what actually happens in interviews- especially for when working under heroes, and doesn’t have a good resume besides the obvious required information and his basic skills- Analysis… okay maybe analysis is his only skill… But still!!

The bag he brought with him starts feeling heavier- carrying all of his more significant analyses on heroes and vigilantes- from the past and the present.

The door to the interview room opens, Midoriya enters with the loud reassurance- and deprecating words from his ‘friends’.

 Izuku can’t believe it as he stands at the door- Hawks himself sat at the large desk, staring down at a manilla folder- probably with Izuku’s information in it.

Midoriya... can’t really read the heroes face as he slowly takes a few steps forward, hands on the straps of his bags like an awkward schoolkid.

I mean... he kind of is an awkward schoolkid.

Hawks looks up, brows raised at the boy slightly.

“Sorry, please have a seat.”

Midoriya nervously shuffles forwards and sinks into the chair opposite Hawks, nervously fidgeting with his hands as his bag slides onto the floor.

“You’re here for the Analyst-assistant position?”

“Uh... Yes, I am, er... Hawks?”

Midoriya blushes slightly as the hero in front of him started snickering, having to raise his hand to his face to muffle the noise. Hawk’s coughs into his fist as he chuckles, trying to compose himself.

Izuku sits in front of the laughing hero, ears blushed red.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Hawks apologized with a smile on his face, leaning back and kicking his feet onto the table, Izuku’s information folder in his hands.

“So… why did you apply for this job?”

Midoriya stares blankly at him for a moment before shaking his head to snap himself to attention.

“I- er… applied for this job for the money- I won't lie. I also thought about how It could heighten my chances for a high school to actually consider accepting me before tossing be aside if I choose to go.”

Izuku responded, eyes downcast.

“Highschool, huh? Is it because your quirk less or because you’re… Schizophrenic?”

“I’m not sure. I believe I’d get in if I had a quirk- that’s the main thing they really care about. I doubt my… issues would change their decision more than my lack of quirk.”

Hawks let out a thoughtful hum at his reply.

“Are you medicated?”

“Am I… Medicated? For the schizophrenia? No. all the medication the doctors have prescribed or recommended don’t work.”

Air was blown onto Izuku’s ear, making him shake his head and swat his hand in annoyance as he glanced around the room at his annoying figures. They were starting to get rowdy.

“If you were hired would your schizophrenia pose a threat to work or daily assignments?”

“I’d like to say they wouldn’t, but sometimes they get too much, and I sort of just… shut down. Theres like a 10% chance of majorly affecting my work.”

The hero leans further back in his chair.

“Shut down?”

“Oh- er… what I mean by that is I get overwhelmed and freeze up or start getting frustrated at everything or just curl up and cry. It’s embarrassing and weird.”

Izuku stares at the ground with a frown as the figures around him go closer, tugging on his clothes, arms and skin.

“Well,”

Hawks coughed to break the awkward silence.

“Can I see some examples of your analysis’s.”

Midoriya nodded, reaching for his bag, opening it and placing a select few of the analyses onto the desk. Hawks takes his legs from the desk and wheels forwards, looking down at the books and flipping through the first one's pages.

The hero's eyes slightly widen with each page he looks at.

“Kid... Kid these analyses are like... crazy good.”

Hawks continued flipping through each of the pages.

“Midoriya. I don’t care if you shut down, if you’re schizophrenic or quirk less, if you work like this 90% of the time… then you’re hired.”

Izuku stares at Hawks, mouth agape slightly, eyes wide as he stumbled over his thanks.

He got the job.

He got the job!

Chapter Text

in·som·nia

[ɪnˈsɒmnɪə]

1. "I have been suffering from insomnia"

Midoriya is used to sleepless nights, tousling and turning under his blankets, readjusting his pillows over and over. The constant chatter of voices in his head, the noises elevated with tiredness. He swears he can hear the clock tick every second that passes, a noise that’s grating against his brain.

The figures around him are all speaking, having their own conversation with themselves mid-air. He hears none yet all the separate, individual conversations each of them is having. It hurts, breaking his brain in ways it’s already been broken, yet still hurts the same way it did the first time it happened.

Izuku hates nights like these.

Sometimes he wonders if he should’ve followed Katsuki’s advice on taking a swan dive off a roof and praying for a quirk in his next life. Sure, his Hallucinations and rare assistant his schizophrenia provides sometimes comes in handy, however its more of a curse now that he’s grown.

Seeing figures and talking to toys, drawings or posters was cool when he was younger, but now that he’s older he finds it frustration, a burden he must carry until he meets his untimely demise.

He’s tired.

Tired of this all, the chatter of voices, the seeing of figures that give him DeJa’Vu of himself, the nausea his lack of sleep causes him when eating meals or simply drinking water.

He’s tired.

Sometimes he does wish his schizophrenia was a quirk instead, maybe if he were lucky to actually become a hero, he’d be able to get Eraser Head to erase it, even if it were for a few minutes, hell even seconds.

He’s tired.

Izuku is sitting up in his bed, head held in hands, fingers gripping his hair tightly.

He’s stressed. He wants to cry, cry until deserts fill and become beaches, cry until freshwater rivers fill with saltwater instead.

He’s so done.

On nights like these he wishes he were dead.

A night before tomorrow?

His big day at his first ever ‘big boy job?’

Midoriya’s luck is just unlimited, isn’t it?

His vision blurs for a moment before normal, his phone held in his hands as he tries to read the time.

Its already the next day, 2:43am.

He opens his phone, entering his password-

-1006

It’s All Might’s Birthday; he wants to change it but anything else would be too hard to remember in his conversation filled brain.

He’s tired.

Midoriya shuts his eyes and hopes for at least an hour of two of sleep.

Chapter Text

job
uk/dʒɒb/ us/dʒɑːb/
noun
1. the regular work that a person does to earn money

Midoriya wakes up tired, surprisingly to the sound of nothing, only sly figures peeking from doorways and shadows.

His eyes have obvious bags; lips pressed in a thin line as he stands in front of his bathroom mirror. His mouth feels dry, and his hair is a mess.

He doesn’t even have formal clothes. Is there a dress code at Hawks agency? Isn’t it technically the commissions agency... do they have dress codes?

He thinks to how he saw everyone dressed, suits and ties, or blazers and skirts.

He’s screwed, he thinks.
________________________________________
Midoriya stares into his hero-themed closet, each and every shirt and pants inspired or having the logo of some different hero.

“It’s like you’re still a little boy.”

A gruelling character of him says, looking like him, yet older and tired.

He doesn’t really want to show up to his first day in hero merchandise, for a moment he ponders entering his mother’s room to see if he can find anything.

Izuku wonders if Hisashi his dad left any clothes before he left.

He leaves his room, dragging a hand down his face as he walks down the apartment halls towards his mom’s room, entering and shutting the door behind him.

He knows she’s already left for work, gone for the next 12 hours or so, only to come back and deal with him until she sleeps and then goes back.

…

That’s another reason for him to work, he’ll see if he can get longer hours or work overtime, even if he won’t get paid for it, to give her a break for once.

Midoriya slides open the closet, peering into it, shuffling clothes on hangers around until he pulls out beige dress pants and a bland white top, both slightly larger than him.

It’s the best he’ll get; his father took most of his stuff when leaving.

Izuku dresses into the clothes, rolling the pants so they don’t drag on the ground when he walks, and rolling the base of his shirt and tucking the rolled part into his pants, so it looks casual-Ish.

“You still look silly.”

A voice says, he ignores it.

He leaves his mom’s room in his newly acquired clothing, heading to his front door to slide on socks and his bright red shoes, which clash with his outfit.
________________________________________
Midoriya’s slowly regretting this, as he stands in front if the agency. People enter and exit the building, not even sparing the teen a glance.

“it’s as if you’re not real. Just imagine if this all is a fragment of your childish little mind.”

He ignores the way the voice could be right.

He ignores the way his stomach drops and how he can feel his heart in his throat.

Badum, badum, badum…

Izuku swears he can hear it beating as he enters the agency, weaving past people, whispering ‘sorry’s’ when they notice his shoes and stare at him with disgust, apologising for his existence.

He feels hands on his shoulders, and another small hand intertwining with his own. He glances down at the figure resembling younger him, small hand in his as he walks through the agency.

It feels slightly comforting and slightly uncanny still.

He absentmindedly turns his head to look behind him slightly, only to get the view of a very-old and very-dead representation of himself, a rope around their neck as if it were a necklace.

He feels ill.

He needs to throw up.

Throw up.

Throw up.

Throw up-

He rushes to the closest bathroom, murmuring apologies as he pushes past people.

He doesn’t bother closing the stall door behind him as he clears his already empty stomach into the bowl of the toilet.
He mostly vomits up stomach acid and the hot chocolate he drank the night before.

Midoriya lets out a soft groan, wiping his mouth on his arm as he stands, flushing the toilet as he gags at the tase of his mouth.

He exits the stall, running his hands under the cool water of the sink for a few seconds before washing his hands and mouth out with the running stream.

He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment.

He stares back at himself with slight disgust a tired expression, nothing he didn’t spot when he woke besides the slight frown he adorned.

He hasn’t even clocked in yet, and he wants to die already.
________________________________________
He makes it to the elevator, zoning out as it rises, eyes down casted to the metal floor of the platform.

He whispers quiet greeting to the people who enter, keeping to himself until it reaches his floor- he’s pretty sure he had to see someone on this story to analyse… something.

Izuku’s getting fired a hundred percent.
He steps onto the carpeted floor, swallowing down anymore bile that tries to rise as the figures grab and whisper at him.

He glances around, shifting on his feet nervously as his eyes search for some sort of indication to where he’s meant to be.

He feels a hand on his shoulder to his left, head and eyes snapping to look at who or what it was.

A taller, older- maybe early to mid-twenties- lady stood there, wearing a white button up under a navy-blue blazer with a grey knee-length skirt and tights.

“Are you Midoriya Izuku?”

She asked, he nodded his head slightly, shifting on his feet nervously, eyes refusing to meet hers.

“Well then, follow me to the analyst department of this floor for your space and to begin your work, Midoriya.”

She started walking off, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor tiles as she headed towards an archway.

Izuku trailed behind, weaving past other interns and workers going about their day.
He ends up at a small, two by two cubicle decorated with a new model of a desktop and an envelope.

“Well, here you are. This is your workspace for your time as an intern here, let the head know If you have any issues and your first task is on your keyboard, goodbye and have a good day.”

Izuku turns to ask her who the head of the department is, but she’s already lost in the crowd of people on the floor.

Midoriya lets out a quiet sigh as he sits down in his cubical, staring at the envelope before opening it.

Inside is a document- a recent villain attack in Hosu which caused multiple buildings to collapse and numerous casualties.

It says to analyse how the fight could’ve gone better and what the hero/heroes involved could’ve done better.

He holds the USB, turning on the computer and plugging it in, logging in and opening the file and nearby video footage of the fight.

…

Of course, its Endeavour who fought the villain.
Midoriya can already write down hundreds of words depicting what went wrong and what Endeavour could’ve done better or improved… maybe even thousands.

…. And so, he did exactly that.