School was kicking his whole ass.

For what? The past four months?

The class studies and home work were fine. Easy even. School work was never really a problem for him, and if it ever were, his dad would sit down with him, walk him through every problem he had till he had a thorough understanding of what he was missing and able to show he understood what was on the page.

So the work wasn't the problem.

No it was the teachers and student body.

They were literally kicking his ass.

The very first day was a "relaxed" day in terms of class work and getting to know their teacher and classmates.

Which included introductions, because of course they needed to introduce themselves to the people they were going to spend the next three years with. It was only logical to get the name, age and quirk of your peers. His teacher, Akamari Sensei, had them also give what they wanted to do when they left the school. Their goal in life, so to say.

That went over beautifully.

A major show of support when he gave his information.

Told them that he was quirkless.

That he was going to be a hero. Not that he wanted to be one. No he was going to be one. There wasn't anything else he wanted to do. Nothing else he really could do because of the amount of employers that refused to employ the quirkless. Then there was that law set in place that protected employers when discrimination against the quirkless was called into question even. It was hero through U.A., Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu, sex worker, or night stocker at the chain grocery store in the shopping district. He'd learned about what sex workers do and decided it wasn't what he wanted to do with his life and just thinking about working at a dead end, mind numbing job, where he would no chance to move up in life and make the bare minimum of wages made him rip his hair out at the roots.

He wanted to help people and there wasn't anything that was going to stop him. Especially not something as trivial as a quirk. He's been shown the opportunity to be something and he'll be damned to not take it.

Of course he didn't say any of that out loud. That would have had Kacchan, who was a desk ahead and to the left of him this year, basically frothing at the mouth. Kacchan would have seen it as a declaration of war and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with on the very first day of school.

The class had been silent for a moment.

So silent.

The calm before the storm.

He'd blushed a bright red with the amount of laughter that surrounded him. From the students and his teacher. The only one quiet was Kacchan.

He looked ready for blood.

"Looks like you think you're a little comedian then. Huh, Midoriya?" His teacher had called out to him with tears gathered in the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard at him. He went to explain that he wasn't, in any way, joking but he was cut off before the first syllable. "Just go sit back down. We don't have time for a quirkless child's ridiculous fantasies and jokes."

He wanted to cry but held strong. He knew it was okay to cry, "it doesn't make you any less of a strong young man" his dad's voice tells him in his mind. He also knew that if he cried in the middle of class it would only make the situation worse. Years of dealing with Kacchan and his other classmates has built up his resistance to crying in front of people. This was however the first time he had a teacher blatantly join in on the humiliation that surrounded him.

He didn't think that things could have gotten worse in school but life seemed to be determined to show him otherwise.

His first few days back to school were . . . testing to say the least.

Going home with scuffed hands and knees, a ripped shirt and big bruise blooming on his cheek. There was no way for him to hide any of it from his mom on the first two days and his dad went into a panic when he saw that his shirt was still smoldering and giving a thin line of smoke from the shoulder of his shirt.

He gave them the excuse that, "it was just an accident. A quirk misfire. It's fine. I mean Denny accidently zaps me sometimes when his quirk builds up for too long. It's no big deal, guys."

Leaving out the point that Kacchan had told him that, "you're only use in quirks is to be target practice. You're too worthless to be anything else, so just stand there and be a good little Deku. I need to work on making my quirk. . . bigger." The cruel smirk on his ex best-friend's face was going to haunt him long enough without adding on whatever faces his parents would pull if they knew the truth.

Enduring the ridicule and pain was a small price to pay in the face of his parents not worrying about him as much as he knows they feel they should. Granted, it was spot on to worry about him but he just felt so guilty. There wasn't anything either of them could really do. There weren't any other schools around where they lived and he really didn't want to move.

Leaving Denki and Kendo was an absolute no-go. He would not abandon them and the thought of leaving them made him feel physically sick to his stomach.

So he hid the scratches and bruises. Learned how to do basic first aide. He picked up how to sew and patch up his clothes to keep his dad from questioning him when he did the laundry. His self defense classes and martial arts classes helped him a lot in avoiding his tormentors on most days but the days that he just wasn't fast enough were always the worst.

If he wasn't able to get away fast enough then Kacchan and his cronies would wail on him and nearly go into quirk exhaustion tormenting him. Kacchan would almost always growl that he, "must think you're better than us! There's only so long you can run away and avoid us before we catch you!" but the most hurtful thing the blonde hot head had told him was that, "You're just a stepping stone on the path to my greatness. You're nothing. Just a useless, Deku."

Was that all he really was? A stepping stone for others?

Kacchan was always right there, nearly breathing down his neck, to remind him so kindly that he was worthless and nothing more than someone to step on for others to reach their goals.

That his quirk status was the only thing that could have given him any type of decent human rights and "would you look at that? You don't have any."

Nearly half way through his first year of middle school and he was already so tired.

Tired of the ache in his ribs.

The slimy feel of burn cream covering his shoulders, hips, chest and lower back.

Hated that he was lying to his parents who were just concerned about him. He knew they'd gone to the school a few times to try to seek out answers themselves but with how everything kept going on he figures it must have been futile attempts.

Having his brain play a continuous loop his classmates taunts and sneers was starting to really get to him. His teachers marking down his tests and giving him the wrong scores were starting to really effect his overall grade. They always kept it to just barely passing so they wouldn't have to call his parents and so at the end of the year he'd be moved up the grade and not have to deal with him another year.

He doesn't understand what he did wrong.

So he doesn't have a quirk.

So what!?

It's just a special, personal tool to help people in life.

It wasn't what made a person who they were. It was just a natural boost, to help someone along in life.

Right?

His dad's fire breathing didn't effect his bubbly personality. There were times that his dad would get frustrated and have to turn to sign language because his throat was raw. He'd get sick from quirk buildup and accidentally inhaling the methane rich gas that sometimes leaked out his mouth. His dad's personality, core beliefs, and mentality though weren't tied to his quirk.

His mom's minor telekinesis didn't change the fact that she was the kindest woman he'd ever met. Then again his mom's quirk did make her cranky sometimes because of the random headaches that would ping her brain like a sonar radar. She'd have to ask his dad to leave for a few hours and take him with him so she could get some needed silence in a dark bedroom, saying that she didn't want to snap at either of them so it would be better for them to just not be around her. Regardless that didn't mean she was a mean person.

Everyone got headaches. Even without the minor telekinesis quirk his mom has. People all over the world get cranky and need moments alone sometimes, but that doesn't make them mean people in the slightest.

He knew and understood that quirks could, have, and will continue to change people's minds and bodies to accommodate said quirks but why was it so bad that he didn't have a quirk? That his biological make-up didn't have a mutated gene. That he didn't have the projected telekinetic quirk people thought he was going to have?

He'd tried once, only once, to ask Kacchan if his quirk effected his brain and emotions like he thought it did. He'd done research on nitroglycerin and saw the effects it could have on the human body. Surely Kacchan's body would evolve itself to protect itself from itself but he didn't know if his Aunt Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru were bringing him to a quirk specialist to help with it. Or if they knew that Kacchan could be having a problem with his quirk in the first place to begin with. Knew that Kacchan's brain was being essentially submerged in toxic fluids. He told his ex friend that there were other people like him with toxic fluids from quirks that resided in their bodies and that there were medicines, quirk therapy and other people's quirks, namely doctors and quirk therapists, to counteract the symptoms.

His last olive branch to a friendship lost, his questions, concerns and suggestions were rewarded with a pretty horrible beating. He wasn't able to move for a good twenty minutes afterwards.

That was the day he ran home in a panic because he was going to get home later than he normally did and he'd be damned if he worried his mom and dad like last time. He'd sacrifice his trip through the park and after school snack if it kept the two of them from thinking he was attacked by another villain.

His mom gasping and his dad looking livid jolted him back into reality the second he walked into through the threshold of his home. He was quickly reminded of everything that happened with Bakugou and the fact that he didn't take any time in carefully hiding the days events.

The blood from his lip and eyebrow still crusted to his face. Blazer still ripped at the seam on his back and shoulders. Hair looking more of a mess than usual.

Not a single good and plausible excuse in sight.

Not when his mom has tears running down her face and his dad was pulling him gently further into the living room to look him over, first aid kit in hand.

He didn't have the energy to make something up. There was nothing he could ever come up with that would convince his parents this was an accident or "playing too rough" anyway. Not with how he saw himself in the mirror that was held up on the wall across from the couch.

He looked like a hot mess that just got his ass handed to him.

Didn't want to lie to his parents any further. It just made him feel sick and guilty. So he told them everything when they asked what happened.

The horror on their faces was enough to let him know that he should have probably told them all of this sooner. His dad, his kind and goofy dad, looked downright murderous. His mom looked like she was ready and prepared to topple a whole government.

To put it simply, they looked terrifying.

His parents look like that because he lied to them and kept secrets from them. He's disappointed them and he knows it. What was he thinking, that he could take on the entire world without his parents finding out? Like he did, but he was so wrong. So, so wrong.

"Buddy." His dad's rough, calloused hand comes up to his unbruised cheek to gently wipe away the tears that have started to pour from his stinging eyes. He doesn't even care that he's full on sobbing.

He's in pain. His heart and body hurt.

His dad purses his lips before pulling him into his lap, hugging him close to his chest. "Let it out, son. I know it hurts. I've got you. You're safe now, baby." His dad's kind voice and hand come up to lightly scratch at the back of his head made him feel safe, protected, and loved. He barely registers that he's crying even harder than before.

It only comes to the forefront of his mind when he starts to cough and try to hack up his lung, which hurts his ribs that are no doubt at least bruised. His head was starting to throb and all the adrenaline that had been running through him on his way home and that had fueled him to talk with his parents finally, was running out quick. All the pain in his body was hitting him so violently all at once.

He can feel hands on him and vaguely hears someone trying to talk to him, but al his mind can focus on is the pain flowing through his veins.

It takes him a moment to register the lukewarm plastic cup of liquid being pressed to his lips. His coughing had subsided without him noticing and something in the back of his mind tells him that he really should have noticed at least that.

"Small sips, sweetheart." His mom's voice calms his mind farther and he follows her instructions. One, two, three small-ish sips of what he has now tasted is water and he's calmed down as much as his body will allow him. There's too much emotional and physical pain for him to relax fully but he isn't sobbing or on the verge of a full blown panic attack any longer, which normally for him involves shutting down completely and suppressing any and all feelings for an undetermined amount of time.

The water may have been lukewarm but it cooled his throat nonetheless. "Better?" He tips his head back and gives a small nod to his dad. Not only did the water help but so did the water and the tightness in his chest that revolved around lying to his parents. Yeah he may have disappointed them and he feels beyond guilty for doing so but it felt good to finally let them in on what was going on in his life. "Good. Now here's the plan, okay?"

He gives another nod when he sees his dad is looking for confirmation that he was following along. "We're going to take you to the hospital to get you checked out. You're mom is going to put on her scary lawyer face," all three of their lips twitch upwards at that, "to make sure none of the doctors or nurses or anyone else gives us a hard time. We're going to do whatever we need to make sure you're taken care of physically and then we're going to get some take out, because the thought of cooking right now makes my head hurt." His dad makes an overly exasperated face, to be dramatic. Just like he would in any other situation. It gives him a sense of normalcy and he's so thankful for it. "We're going to come home. Eat. Build the best fort we've ever constructed. Watch movies till we fall asleep in a big pile of Midoriya love and affection and support. Then we'll talk about everything we need to talk about tomorrow, okay? Sound like a plan you guys?"

The three of them look to one another. He and his mom nod and agree to everything his dad quickly planned out for them. His dad was always good at coming up with plans and strategies and blueprints on the fly. 'He would have been an amazing pro hero. They both would have been.' He thinks to himself as he wiggles his way off his dad's lap and towards his bedroom. "I want to change my shirt before we leave. Is that okay?" He doesn't think they'll say no but he's messed up so much already, he doesn't want to do anything to mess up any further.

"Of course, Izzy. We'll be right here waiting okay?" His mom calling him his designated nickname puts his mind at ease. Normally when either of his parents were mad at him, they called him by his given name, Izuku. When they were pissed off at him, they used his full name. Hearing "Izzy" let him think, at least for right now, that they weren't mad at him.

Nodding and half limping through the hallway to his room. It takes a minute for him to get his tattered clothes off without ripping them any further. He wonders if his parents will just get him a whole new uniform, instead of patching this one again, since they now knew of everything.

Avoiding any and every reflective surface and mirror in his room, he's quick, well quicker than he was when taking everything off, to put on an extra large sleep shirt and pair of loose sweat pants. Irritating or compressing any of his injuries right now would definitely break his resolve to cut back on his crying for the rest of the day. He'd already cried himself into a near panic attack and did not want a repeat of those events.

Slowly walking back down the hallway he finds his parents in a tight embrace, in the middle of the living room. Dad seems to be swaying them back and forth while he talks quietly to his mom. It was something he did when either he or mom were having a bad day, were becoming or already overwhelmed with something, or simply needed some extra reassurance. His mom nods to whatever Dad says, wipes her eyes and then they give each other small smiles.

Seeing his parents give each other support and unconditional love, warms his heart.

They turn towards him when he purposely steps on a board that he knows creaks as loud as a bird singing at 5 am.

"Ready to go, Izzy?" His dad has to clear his throat before he asks him but he nods all the same, taking his father's outstretched hand.

The time they spent in the emergency room was short lived. Not only did his mom have to really break out her lawyer voice to get him seen, but his dad's whole aura was giving off something crazy and sinister. It seemed like the hospital staff wanted them out of the building as fast as humanly possible, which they weren't protesting against.

At all.

He hated hospitals.

They were too sterile, judgmental and never really an option for him to go too if he weren't with his mom.

Thankfully though the visit was a short one also because his injuries weren't as bad as they looked. Like they weren't great but at least he only bruised his ribs and didn't fracture or break them. His burns were superficial and would scab over and fade with time and a little medicated salve.

Neither he nor his parents really trusted the doctors to use their quirks to their full potential. Plus they all collectively agreed that since he was pursuing the life of a pro hero, it would be better for his body to not rely on someone else's quirk to heal minor wounds. It would help build his immune system and strengthen his pain tolerance. 'Even though I don't really need that perk in life upgraded any further than it was at the moment.' He thought to himself bitterly as they walked out of the too bright building.

"Lets get this script filled and then get some Katsudon from that one place? The little one next to the cute little tea shop?" His mom asks him and his dad, obviously trying to get his mind off of everything of the day he's had and, more specifically, where they just came out of. Giving a weak smile, he follows his parents towards where they parked their car.

He doesn't remember much of their trip home. It's all a blur of trees, cherry blossoms, and jumbled thoughts, not being able to really differentiate one from another.

He started to come back to himself around the end of dinner when he looked up to his dad and saw him deep in a mumble storm.

Which revolved around aliens?

He listens to maybe two minutes of his dad's rant on, "Just because they're from space doesn't mean they couldn't already have visited us, set up shop on the ocean floor, and just have been chillin' there for centuries! How do we know that they weren't the cause of leap in biology in living beings!?", before he decides to break his, no doubt, too long silence.

"Even if I don't think you're one hundred percent right, I don't think you're very wrong either. There's still to this day no scientific or logical explanation on why the human race and other beings evolved so rapidly or suddenly. We don't know if it were aliens or if it was everyone's biology sending a huge warning that things were going to start hitting the fan and we as a collective species needed to prepare for it. Maybe the leap was in preparation of aliens, and not aliens already being here." His parents watch him for a moment.

Total silence takes over the table.

Then his dad erupts into a deep belly laughter and his mom's face brightens with a truly beautiful smile.

"Finally! Someone asking the real questions!" His dad sends him a wink and proceeds to carry on with his own theories that bounce right off of what he'd just brought up.

His dad was one of his biggest saviors. Always knowing exactly what he needed and never hesitated to give it to him. Just like he did just then, calling to his curiosity and not wavering in delving deep into his own mind to pull up truly ridiculous theories to bring his son out of a dangerous part of his mind.

With dinner finished, dishes put away, clothes changed and teeth brushed, he and his closest loved ones drag out every single blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal they can find out into the living room. His brilliant engineer father instructs and demonstrates to him and his mom on how to build the most structurally sound pillow fort he's ever seen.

His dad must have been doing some kind of research on how to build epic pillow forts because the structure doesn't even budge when he trips over a stray blanket tail and knocks into the side of it.

"How, dad? Just. . . how?" His dad's maniacal laughter just reinforces his thoughts on prior research. They, or at least his dad, must have been thinking of a family bonding night before everything happened and had done someone digging on how to make his forts even better than last time. Standing up he takes a second to make sure where he bumped into was actually still stable and in place before he stepped back and admired the whole of it. "Okay, well. This is the best fort we've built in," he takes another step back into his mom's side hug and tries to think of their previous forts, "ever, I think."

His dad has a proud smile on his face and his chest puffed out. "Why thank you, Izzy!" His dad ventures into the kitchen to get the popcorn that signaled it was done by the beeping their microwave was doing. He and his mom decided to finally get settled on the futons they'd set out on the ground before covering them in even more blankets and pillows and stuffed animals.

Bundled up, looking like human burritos, his mom hugs him closes and gives him a gentle kiss on the forehead. He can feel that she wants to ask him something but when he looks up to her she's glassy eyed and whispers to him, "I love you so much. You truly are the best thing to ever happen to me baby. You are my entire universe and your dad is my world. Thank you. Thank you for being my sweet baby boy."

And now they're both crying.

Sobbing was a more accurate word.

Clinging to each other and sobbing.

He may have gotten his mumbling from his dad but his tear ducts are a direct gene from his mom. They both would be able to literally flood a room if they were emotional enough.

"Oh. My loves." He doesn't turn towards his dad when he hears him. It was only a matter of time before his dad would join in on their hug, like he always does. It takes a minute or so but his dad finally joins in on the hug and he's then squished between the two people who love him most. "Are we okay? Do we need a minute?" His dad asks them when they've finally stopped outright sobbing and are just letting loose silent tears and muted hiccups.

Looking around the room he sees that his dad decided to take the time they were crying and comforting each other as time to get everything else in the living room set up. There's the snacks, drinks, and napkins on the table to the right. The television set up for whatever they want to watch. A few more blankets set up next to his dad, no doubt because he knows both his son and wife are notorious blanket hugs and will not hesitate to steal a blanket or two. There was also a box of tissues and a packet of baby wipes that were set down to the left, next to his mom.

He and his mom just nod to his dad, wipe their faces, blow their noses and get settled in for a night of bonding and comfort.

His mom and dad may not be pro heroes in the traditional sense, but they damn sure were his very own personal heroes.

He knew he'd always be able to count on them when he needs it. Knew they'd sacrifice everything if it were in the name of keeping him safe and healthy.

They were his number one heroes and there's not a single person who could take their place.

. . . Eraserhead was his permanent second though.

AN - I was all but bullied into making one by my youngest sister so. . .

Come buy me a coffee and maybe get yourself a commission piece by yours truly! /spideypool504

Till next chapter my gremlins!