Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All men are not created equal.

This line was drilled into Izuku before he could even comprehend the significance. It wasn't that it was particularly incorrect, just not something a child should be taught. From a Developmental standpoint, crushing a kid's dreams before he can even eat a chapter book probably isn't healthy.

But that's where his path has led him.
Sitting in a room that smelled far too much like antiseptic for Izuku´s sensitive nose with his mother who had a sour look on her face and heavy bags under her eyes.
¨Sorry kid, it’s not gonna happen.¨
That's all there was to it. Izuku was born in the 20% of Japanese population who lacked a quirk factor, in every essence of the word Izuku was quirkless.
He was stunned, all he’d ever wanted to be was a hero, strong and brave.
How will he do that now?

—

The car ride home from the optionment was a solemn one. Often his mother would put the radio on and hum to whatever was playing, not this time though, the only sound filling the air was Izuku's sniffling nose. Still his heart swelled with hope, quirkless people may be at a disadvantage, but it doesn't render them completely inept. Plenty of hero’s used natural strength over their quirk in combat, he’d do just fine in a fight, Surly this wasn't the end for him.
The car pulls into the lot out front their house and his mother steps away without even a glance in his direction. Stepping out of the car, Izuku is greeted with their very average home, it was common to live in apartments in the Musutafu district. As it was very densely populated. His house smelled like cooking, his dad had probably cooked dinner while they were gone. Izuku hoped it was Kasudon. Dad knows how much I like it.
“Izuku sweetie, how about you go to your room for a while?”
The tone was cold, lacking any softness but he complied. Leaving the room without eating dinner or doing so much asserting down his bag.
Izuku had been obsessed with all might since he was three so naturally his room was covered in an array of red, white, yellow, and blue.
The sight brought a smile to his face.
One day I'll bring as much hope to the people as Allmight does!
He could hear his parents all night talking in hushed tones about what they were gonna do with him now.

—

Ever since the diagnosis his family dynamic had changed. His mother grew cold, and his father stayed out late. Izuku could tell his parents resented him for simply being alive. It wasn’t that they were particularly neglectful or anything they just “forgot” to feed him some nights, he had to adapt to that so he learned how to cook poorly but just enough to get by.
Izuku became self-sufficient to the best of his abilities. He could wake himself up, get to school, cook dinner, and go to bed all without the help of his mother or father.
Though Izuku didn’t understand why being quirkless was so bad, he saw how people look at him now, like a monster.

School had changed too, the teacher informed the whole class of his “condition” much to his distaste. she somehow both managed to look down on izuku and treat him like glass. The other students didn't take kindly to the news, in their eyes he was just lesser than them by default. Even Kacchan avoided him like the plague. They all looked at Izuku with the same eyes, eyes of pity and disgust. His family, his friends, they all turned on him. Izuku hated it, he wanted to be loved again.
He knew it wasn’t gonna happen.

—

Fathers temper had been getting the better of him recently and Izuku is at the brunt of this violence.
“You scum, you were supposed to save our family. I’m ashamed to say we’re related by blood.” Hizashi spat as he kicked Izuku to the floor, holding him down with the heel of his shoe.
“I'm sorry dad please, I'm sorry!” Izuku begged, trying to find any semblance of remorse in his fathers eyes.
“God, never look at me with your beady null eyes, your vile.” It was true, Izuku ruined every part of his life.
At that point he vowed to never hurt anyone, to never look anyone in the eye, to blend into the background.

—

Izuku stayed strong to his promise, as he slowly detached himself from everyone. Honestly he could go a whole day with his only interaction with anyone being his father beating him for some unknown reason. Life moved slower now, like honey, the day blending together into one.
He turned six at some point, not that it was celebrated. If he was being honest he forgot it himself. Inko used to take him to the mall on birthdays and he’d get to pick out new Allmight merch, those days were in the past now though.

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t remember when his father stopped coming back, he’s not really sure what happened to the man. Maybe Hisashi is dead in a ditch somewhere like Izuku had always hoped he was. It wasn’t that he'd missed the man, Hisashi made his life hell for years. He still carries a lot of that with him to this day.
He was fourteen now and practically lived alone. Inko would be home as little as she could, which was quite little as her job is a traveling nurse. She’d go wherever a gig took her and be gone for at least a month at a time, coming back for a few days just to leave again.
Even with his mother’s unhealthy work ethic, money was always tight. Izuku had taken up volunteering at a local animal center two days a week, they would often have a tray of snacks out for volunteers and Izuku would take what he could get as dinner some nights. He was planning on getting a job somewhere but he has to forge documents, no stores hire quirkless folk anymore. Being quirkless everyone believes Izuku is utterly incompetent so he's turned out of any place of work.
Money is the least of his concerns right now anyway, Kacchan and his lackeys have been taking advantage of the school staff's disdain for Izuku. It was an awful day for Izuku and he’s got a handprint shaped burn forever branded into his shoulder to prove it. He was walking through the partially grungy part of town as a shortcut back to the apartment, though this part of town kinda gives him the creeps he’d rather not have to fight round two with Kacchan. Izuku was walking through an overpass when he felt something terrifyingly cold creep up his leg. Turning down izuku spots a gross green slime quickly enveloping his whole body. The cause of said slime finally spoke in a ragged voice that echoed off the tunnel walls.
“Really this is a win win for both of us, I get a new skin suit and you, well, won't have to live anymore!” The voice sent chills down his spine as he desperately tried to shovel slime off of himself, to no avail as it kept just coming. The sludge had wrenched his jaw open at some point and was blocking his airways. Everything was beginning to appear hazy despite his struggles.
No, no, no, no, no, no. I don’t wanna die, at least not now, not like this!
He still had so much to do, so much to prove! If he couldn’t be the first quirkless hero then who could?
He could feel his own knees growing weak as his body failed on him when he needed it most. Izuku felt cold, so cold, as everything faded all he could think about how he never found a reason in life. Izuku left no mark on this world, he will die just as pointless as he was when he was born.

—

Everything was dark, and cold, and wet. Gross. If izuku was dead, then hell was much smellier than he expected. No, he sure as hell felt alive. Izuku started blindly fumbling around, he quickly discovered that he was not, in fact, dead. As he pushed open the lid that seemed to be covering his head he found a dimly lit alleyway. Looking down at himself he found a suspiciously brown and red crusted stain on his clothes—Yup, that’s blood, oh my god so gross—other than that he seemed pretty much intact. No visible stab wounds, just soreness, hunger, and a pounding headache.
Shifting from his unofficial grave out to the empty streets Izuku finds that he had no idea where he is or how he got there for that matter. Moving felt like he was being cursed by some god he’d offended, his body screamed like it had been buried underground for three weeks. As Izuku walked around all he saw were shady stores that looked like money laundering fronts. He must’ve ended up in the red light district somehow though he remembers none of it, though he continued on. Walking for what felt like hours but was likely minutes of him stumbling around aimlessly he turned up at the metro station. Thank god for 24-hour travel networks. After almost falling down the stairs—due to his weak knees—he entered the subway station. It smelled like rot and was completely empty except for some dude sleeping on a bench at the far end, he kinda felt guilty. Izuku had a home to go back to at the end of the day and that was better than most. The clock bolted to the wall read 23:56, the next train wasn’t until 1:00 so he took a seat against the far wall, resting his head on the mildly dirty wall and recounting what he remembers of the day. He had gone to school, he remembered that. Kacchan had burned him! Izuku peeled back the shoulder of his uniform to reveal an angry scar in the shape of a hand. It was pink and clearly fresh but healed over. Aware of it now, he could feel stinging coming from his shoulder due to his uniform rubbing against it. The subway was cold, no matter how hard Izuku tried he couldn’t stop the persistent aching cold coming from under his skin.
Eventually he heard the whirring of the train on rails. Stepping up from his sticky bench he enters the train. Content on resting until his stop he took one of the many open seats and returned to his half-aware dazed state until his stop.