All men are not created equal.
This was a lesson that Izuku Midoriya had learned the hard way at a very young age. He'd always been a kindhearted, eager boy. He was always willing to help people in need, and his cheerful smile was an ever-present landmark on his face. It was only natural that a boy like that would become a hero, everyone thought. Once he developed his quirk, he'd begin training, go to U.A. and become the savior he was always meant to be. His parents were sure of it. He already had the spirit and the determination; all he needed was to get his quirk. Except he never did get a Quirk. Because as he would find out sitting in that doctor's office on that fateful day, Izuku Midoriya was Quirkless.
At first, the four-year old hadn't understood. As long as he wanted to be a hero and worked hard, what was the problem? Wasn't wanting to save people enough? He didn't understand why the doctor spat out the word 'Quirkless' with a measure of disgust, or why his parents' faces seemed to darken when they heard it. He stared at them, tears forming in his eyes. He didn't understand. Then he did. He understood three fundamental things at the exact same time. Number one, that he was alone from the start. Number two, that it hurt so, so much to be hated by everyone around him, even his own parents. Number three, he wanted it to stop. To stop. Stop. It overwhelmed him to the point where he considered many ways out. Running away was second on the list. The first on the list... He refused to let himself dwell on that.
Quirkless. It was a word that would come to haunt Izuku Midoriya for however long he had left in this damned world of Heroes and Quirks. He remembered all too well every slur, every swing of a drawn back arm, every look. Everything. He wished he could forget. Yet after all he had been put through he hadn't forgotten his dream. Despite everything, he still wanted to be a hero. Sometimes he almost wanted to be able to move on from it all, live as normally as possible and stop setting himself up for disappointment reaching for something he could never accomplish. But he knew deep down that he'd never be able to do that. Because it wasn't just about saving people anymore. Of course that was still a big part of it, but now he also wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove to Bakugo, to his parents, to the world, and to himself that he wasn't as useless as everyone said. That he could help people.
And so he started training in secret. He ran to and from school. He tried to learn how to fight through tracking Bakugo's movements every time he attacked him. He analyzed heroes and their quirks, memorizing the information since he didn't have anywhere to safely write it down. He convinced himself that his daily beatings were endurance and pain tolerance training for if he ever got tortured by villains. It didn't make it hurt any less, but it kept him going, kept him sane. It was probably the only thing keeping him sane. For Izuku, being a hero wasn't just a dream anymore. It was a lifeline. He needed to become strong. To help people. To save them. This was something he would have to speak with fervor about, while not getting overzealous. Because if he couldn't do that, then there really was no point in his existence. A twelve year old Izuku cradled his burnt arm as he walked, courtesy of the resident explosion boy Katsuki Bakugo. It stung like hell, but he was used to this type of pain. Don't cry. He told himself. A Hero wouldn't cry over a small injury like this. But still, it hurt.
Before he realized, he was at his house. Not home- this place could never be called a home- but it was where he lived. He unlocked the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside. His body tensed on instinct, expecting Hisashi's harsh voice scolding him for being late, but the house stayed strangely silent. Slowly, he closed the door and looked around. It looked like no one was home. Izuku let his mind wander to the moving trucks he'd seen outside lately and the "Sold" sign in front of the house; his parents had told him they'd be moving soon, but they wouldn't... Right? That would be too far, even for them. It had to be too far. Now practically running through the house, Izuku noticed an envelope on the kitchen table. He picked it up and began to read through the contents.
Izuku,
We've sold the house and moved to America. The new owners of the house will arrive in two weeks, so be out of there by then. We won't be seeing you again.
Your parents-
That was it. They had left him. Are you... serious?
The letter crumpled and shook in his hands- no, his hands were shaking- and he stared at it in disbelief. This was really it? A three sentence letter and then everything was over without a backwards glance? Sure, it's not like he cared what happened to his parents, but this just seemed too cruel. No. Too cruel? There was no such thing. He should have known better. He'd known Inko and Hisashi despised him. He shouldn't be so shocked at this. He should have seen this coming. But he hadn't. He hadn't and now he was here in this stupid house that wasn't his anymore, homeless, with no legal guardian and no idea what to do next.
Izuku began to cry. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care if he really was a crybaby like everyone said, or if he was overreacting, or if he was being an idiot. He was so tired of this. He didn't want to be left behind just because he'd been born different. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be treated like dirt. They... they couldn't really be doing this, they would be back tomorrow- But they weren't coming back, were they? Of course they weren't. They had no reason to. No matter how much he changed or pleased or obeyed, that would never change. Maybe some part of him had always seen this coming, he wondered. Why did these things always happen to him? He was so tired. Tired of asking that question, asking why when he knew there was no answer. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could ever fix. He was so tired. It wasn't fair. And Izuku was tired of it.
He woke up. He was still groggy, but he could feel wetness on his face. Another nightmare? No, he'd fallen asleep crying on the kitchen table. Oh, that's right. I've been abandoned. Izuku felt the familiar weight in his chest ready to crash back into him, but he forced himself to hold it back. He didn't have time for self-pity right now. He was alone, and he had to figure out how to get through this. Improvisation and independence were important skills for a hero. First, Izuku searched the house for anything he could use. His parents had left nothing except for a few cans of food and some of his clothes, which he put into his school backpack. You're lucky. He reminded himself. They could have left you with nothing. With this, you've got- maybe not a fighting chance, but it's something. Something to work with. Something to survive with.
He'd always been a survivor. The broccoli head was muttering up a storm, trying to figure out the best course of action to take. He ended up skipping school for the first and only time in his life and worked late into the night, furiously making plans for the future. Izuku Midoriya was many things, but a quitter was not one of them. If he let something like this stop him, then he'd never be a hero. And so he planned.
Izuku sighed as he set his backpack on the floor of his new one-room apartment. It had been three weeks since he found the note and he'd moved in last week, and it had taken all of five seconds to get all his stuff in, since everything he owned was either on his body or in his bag. He'd just gotten home after another tiring day of school, and was now standing in his cramped living space. Then he started on his homework. He was about to finish his math assignment when a scream rang out through the air before ominously being cut off. Considering the type of neighborhood this was, things like that weren't necessarily unusual, but this scream was from close by. Close enough that Izuku might be able to do something. With that thought, he pulled his hoodie over his face and slinked out of his apartment to find the source of the sound, only to find a woman being shoved roughly against a wall by a group of men. The sight made his blood boil.
Stop. Don't rush in. Make a plan first. There were four attackers: One clearly had a quirk that turned his fists into stone and was pinning the woman's arms to the wall, while another seemed to have some paralyzing quirk as the woman's face and body were completely frozen. Does it only work on one person at a time? The third probably had a boosting quirk of some sort that worked on other people through contact, because he had one hand each on the two other men's shoulders. The last one hadn't activated his quirk yet, but from what he could tell from the man's appearance and behavior, it was most likely a surveillance quirk to avoid capture.
It seemed to be weakened by a limited range, though, since he hadn't noticed Izuku about twenty feet away. He was definitely the one to take out first before he could alert the others- him and the paralyzer. He quietly ducked back into his apartment and grabbed two food cans. While he was at it, he also grabbed a spare 2-by-4 board that had been laying around outside. His plan better work, or both he and that woman would be in trouble. He crossed his fingers and threw one of the cans with all his might at the back of the surveillance man's head. Immediately after, he hurled the other can at the paralyzer.
Please knock them out, please knock them out, please knock them out- CLUNK.
The first can smacked against the center of the surveillance quirk man's head perfectly, sending him toppling forward into the ground. He was out. The second can hit the paralyzer hard- not quite hard enough, but enough to distract him. Izuku didn't have any time to waste. He shot out from his hiding place, and then everything happened at once. His leg extended, and he nailed a kick on the paralyzer's neck. Take him out before he uses his quirk on you. He swung the board out at the same time, catching the man in the same place the can had hit.
He crumpled. Stone-hands threw a punch. Dodge. Use his own momentum against him. He sidestepped. Dropped the board. Then grabbed the other's forearm and twisted. Using the opportunity, Izuku rammed into him as the booster flew at him from the other side, knocking himself and stone-hands to the ground as the man's head banged against the floor, his chin snapping into the air. An uppercut, and he was down. Immediately he turned, rolled out of the way of the booster's charge, snatching the fallen board. Stuck his leg out and as the booster went skidding out of control, Izuku lunged, striking the enemy across the head. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped. Unconscious. It was over. He had won. Izuku stood up, panting. His senses were still on overdrive, high on adrenaline. Pride filled him. He'd never fought anyone before, but he'd managed to win against three more experienced adults. But don't you dare get too cocky, Deku. Although his win was partially due to his own skill and training, he knew it had mostly been luck. He still wasn't strong enough. Not nearly. He looked at the victim and gave her a once-over for any wounds. There were no visible injuries, but she was understandably scared witless. The still-shivering woman stared up at him with a mix of fear and awe. He gave her some time to collect herself before asking if she was okay.
"Y-yes. T-thank you." She choked out.
"No problem! Y-you should call the police now. I'll stay with you until they get here. Is that okay?"
"A-ah, y-yes! Thanks." She stuttered as she reached for her phone and dialed 911. Izuku dragged the men so that they were leaning against the wall. He didn't have anything to tie them up with, so he'd just have to watch them and make sure they didn't get up until the police came for them. Meanwhile, the woman had finished her call and was staring at him with curiosity.
"Um, s-sorry, but who are you?"
"I'm-" He was about to introduce himself with his real name, but somehow that didn't seem right here. Izuku Midoriya was a weak, useless boy who couldn't stand up for himself, not a savior. Not a hero. He was... He took a deep breath and looked back at her.
"I'm Petit Lion. Nice to meet you." Even two years later, Izuku wasn't sure why that name was the first that had come to mind. It was just what he'd been his whole life, he guessed. Seen as something small, something little. But truthfully he was strong, like a tiger, like a lion. Petit Lion was French for 'little lion'. He had no clue why the French words had come to mind- granted he had taught himself French when he was ten. But it was different now. If society told him he was just a little bug for them to squash, he would correct him. He wasn't a bug. He was Petit Lion. And on that very day, a vigilante who would raise Japan was born.
Izuku had never really meant to become a vigilante. He'd introduced himself to that woman as Petit Lion, but it was more of a split second decision than anything. He just didn't want his actions to be associated with his old name but after that, he'd started thinking. Wouldn't this be the perfect way to gain fighting experience? This way, he could get stronger and help people at the same time. And since vigilantism was defined as using your quirk without a license, he technically wouldn't be breaking any laws if he let his enemies strike first. It was ingenious! Well, it was never that simple. There would be a lot of problems- most obviously, avoiding capture. The heroes and police force had no way of knowing about his Quirklessness, so they'd be trying to arrest him. And that definitely couldn't happen.
It's not like he'd be put in jail if he was caught, but he would be put into the childcare system and sent to who knows where, and if that happened he wouldn't be able to attend UA. Therefore, discovery of his identity was a no-no. Luckily- or maybe unluckily- Izuku lived in the bad part of town, where few heroes tended to bother with. Even if he did vigilante work here, he suspected the police would leave him be as long as he wasn't causing harm. They already had too much to deal with and would most likely see him as a helpful presence if anything. It was basically free real estate. At the very least, he'd probably have time to gain sufficient fighting experience for avoiding capture.
That was one thing out of the way, but he was far from home free. He'd need supplies: support gear, weapons, a costume, and a voice-changer to hide his identity. And since he was broke to boot, buying them wasn't feasible in the near future. He'd have to scrounge them up from somewhere, or make them himself, find some other solution. And then there was the issue of time. As in he didn't have enough of it. He already had enough responsibilities, but vigilante work would introduce several more into the mix. Obviously there were the night patrols, but there was also creating and doing maintenance on support gear, researching nearby villains and crime hotspots, monitoring any local gangs, organizations, or syndicates... Finding the time and energy to do all of those things on top of everything else would be a taxing job in itself.
He'd tried to apply for online classes to free up his schedule, but he wouldn't have been able to start until the next semester even if he'd been approved. Which he hadn't been: the teacher had scoffed at him for "trying to get out of school" and thrown his application in the trash. That meant that he was stuck attending Aldera Junior High for eight hours a day five times a week, facing prejudice from the teachers and blatant cruelty and sabotage from the students. Despite the circumstances, he'd still have to maintain his perfect grades and somehow find enough time to study on top of physical training, four or five part time jobs, and now his extra vigilante duties. His sleeping time would be cut down to virtually zero. But if he ever messed up, let himself fall asleep in school even once, or let his crankiness take over and tried to talk back, the teacher would be on his case and a mark would be on his school record. He couldn't have that if he was trying for a prestigious hero academy. He would have to be completely perfect, constantly, or it would all be over. Izuku was getting a headache just thinking about it. Even so, he wasn't giving up. He was going to help people no matter what. This was only the first trial. If he couldn't handle this, then he'd never be able to save anyone. So he had to succeed here. He had to become a hero. He had to.
Two Years. Two whole years had passed since Petit Lion's debut, and they had been some of the most exhausting of his entire life. Which was saying a lot. His daily routine was something like this: At around 7:45 AM, Izuku would start his 45-minute run to school, always arriving a few minutes before the first bell. He'd diligently pay attention in classes and take notes, of which he always made several copies to safeguard from his classmates' sabotage. At lunch, he'd eat whatever meager amount he'd brought and hadn't been stolen from him, then either do work or sleep through the period in order to survive the rest of the school day.
At 3:30 sharp, he'd dash out of the building in an attempt to avoid Bakugo and his lackeys. If his escape succeeded, then he alternated between training and scrap-scrounging at Dagobah Beach and working one of his several part-time jobs. After that he would work on his support gear or study for a while. He tried to work ahead in all subjects; his teachers had a habit of quizzing him on things they hadn't covered in class and punishing him when he couldn't answer. And finally, his night patrols. This was Izuku's favorite activity, since it gave him a chance to get rid of some pent-up stress through beating up bad guys. He would patrol through the late hours until they were so late that they were early, and he never stopped until at least 6:30 AM. Sometimes he stayed out as late as 7:30- just fifteen minutes before he had to leave for school.
If he did end up finishing his patrols early, he would do some last-minute cramming or go for a morning jog. Maybe get a half-hour of sleep if he was really lucky. Then he would take a quick shower, chug some coffee, eat something quick if he had time, and do it all over again. Izuku was more tired than he thought was humanly possible. The only reason he was still standing was due to a combination of an ungodly amount of coffee and energy drinks, his far too short naps during lunch period, and sheer willpower. Although he had yet to make a mistake, he was just barely hanging on. Not to mention that his situation at school was only getting worse. Red spider lilies had begun to appear on his desk almost daily, usually accompanied with notes or even carvings on the desk itself. It had hurt to see them in the beginning, but now they were just a part of his daily routine. He adjusted to them quickly, and soon they more or less stopped affecting him. After all, they were simply affirmations of what he already knew to be true.
He got the feeling something was wrong with that thought process, but it was ironically one of the only things keeping him together (well, as together as he was). Thinking that he deserved everything was so much easier than thinking that he didn't, that all his suffering had been for no good reason... that all his pain had just been the result of some bad luck. He doubted he could handle that, so he completely shut out the possibility of it from his mind. That's right. There was no point in getting upset because people were telling him the truth. That's what he told himself, at least. Because getting upset wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't erase the carvings on his desk. Nor would it erase the eviction notice he'd found on his apartment door this morning: the owner had been arrested for drug dealing, so the building was set to be shut down and bulldozed by the end of the month. Just in case he hadn't noticed the giant middle finger that the whole universe seemed to be giving him.
He could pity himself all he wanted, but that wouldn't find him a new place to live. Maybe at this point it would be better to just stay on the streets or at a homeless shelter? He barely spent that much time at home anyway, since he was usually out at school, a job, or a patrol. But he needed an address to list for the school... Well, did he really? He doubted the school would care too much even if he became homeless, but his stuff might get stolen in a shelter, and there were people who deserved that bed more than he did anyways. On the other hand, living on the streets would cause a lot of problems. Nowhere to put his essential things, weathering the elements and freezing weather... he wouldn't have to pay rent if he lived on the streets though, so maybe he could just buy more warm clothes with the extra cash. Even then-
"Hey, Deku! The fuck are you mumbling about?" The thirteen-year old internally groaned. Had he been muttering out loud? He should have known better than that. But he really, really didn't have the energy for this. Maybe, by some miracle, the boy would go away if he didn't respond, so he said nothing. He soon realized that this had been a mistake. "Why won't you answer me, shitnerd?! Are you scared or something?" Bakugo taunted. Izuku stayed silent, returning his insult with a smile and a mumble.
"Good m-morning." A hero always smiles no matter how bad the situation is. They never let anyone see their weakness, and they inspire hope through their very presence. He reminded himself. Recently he'd taken to plastering a smile on his face at all times for that reason. He was used to acting through pain anyway, and sometimes it seemed to creep Bakugo out enough to get him to leave him alone for a while. Not today though, apparently.
"Who do you think you're talking to, YA LITTLE SHIT," Bakugo roared. He slammed his hands into Izuku's desk with a thwack and made an explosion that sent splinters of wood flying through the room. The greenette's grin didn't drop even as he was sent flying out of his chair, shrapnel piercing his skin. He knew that the second he so much as flinched, he'd be accused of disrupting lessons and sent to detention. Katsuki leaned forward and grabbed the boy's collar. "You think you're a hotshot, huh? You're just a shitty Deku, so give it the fuck up already before I make you. Got it?" The blond growled. His tone was somehow more vicious than usual.
"I-if you s-say s-so, Kacchan," Izuku smiled. He didn't consider Bakugo a friend anymore, not by a long shot, but the nickname was a good way to passive-aggressively annoy him.
"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT! I'LL KILL YOU!" The bully roughly threw him back, and he held back a wince. One of the splinters was aggravating a wound from last night's patrol. He hoped it wouldn't get infected. It would be a hassle to pick all the wood bits out later. "Tch. Shitty bastard," Katsuki stalked away with a final glower at Izuku, who grinned back in response. God, he was tired. He hoped lunch would come soon. Finally, the teacher entered the classroom to start the lesson.
"Okay class, it's time to talk about high school opportunities!" The teacher set a stack of forms on his desk. "I'd pass these out, but you all want to be heroes, right?" The class roared with excitement. All the kids hollered and activated their quirks for everyone to see, chests puffed with overinflated pride and mostly unattainable dreams. Izuku sat still and watched the spectacle. Kacchan will explode in 3... 2... 1...
"Hey, teach, don't lump me in with these weaklings! They'd be lucky to be sidekicks to fucking D-Listers!" Growled a certain Pomeranian. The other students began to grumble at this, but were silenced by Bakugo's screech of "shut up, extras!"
"Ah yes, Bakugo. You're aiming for UA, right?"
"I'm not aiming, I'm fucking GOING to UA! I'm gonna graduate and surpass All Might to become the #1 Hero and be the richest person in the world! HEAR THAT, YA SHITTY EXTRAS?!" The room exploded in noise again, but the teacher brought order back to the class before continuing. His voice dripped with disdain as he squinted at his clipboard and said, "And it seems Midoriya is trying for UA as well. Isn't that right, Midoriya?" Gee, thanks for that, teach. Everyone besides Bakugo and Izuku burst into laughter, and the teacher didn't bother to stop them this time, if fact he had a smirk on his face.
"You, going to UA?! No way!"
"You'd die in the entrance exams!"
"You have to know how to do more than study to get into the Hero course, moron."
"FUCKING DEKU!" Katsuki exploded Izuku's desk for the second time that day (strangely enough, that wasn't the record of times his desk had gotten blown up within one day of school; the record was- if you were interested- seven, and he, not Bakugo, had gotten an after-school detention to clean up all the debris). "WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU THINK A WEAK LITTLE SHIT LIKE YOU COULD COMPETE AGAINST ME, HUH?! WHAT COULD A QUIRKLESS LIKE YOU EVEN DO ANYWAY?!"
"S-s-sorry..." Look on the bright side. It could've been worse, he could have found your no-
"Hey. What the fuck is this supposed to be?" I jinxed it, didn't I? Katsuki picked up the notebook, Izuku's notebook, the notebook that had taken three months of slaving away at part-time jobs to buy, and his face twisted with loathing at the title. Izuku prayed that what was about to happen wasn't what he was thinking. "Hero Analysis For the Future? You've gotta be shitting me! HOW DELUSIONAL CAN YOU BE?!" Every cell in Izuku's body screamed at him to do something, throttle Bakugo and save the book, but instead he watched in muted horror as the scent of burning paper filled the room with a loud bang. He sat in his seat and smiled his stupid fake smile that made him feel like his lips were being held in place by tenterhooks, and he watched the product of all his months of hard work be incinerated in seconds.
He wanted to cry. He'd take a thousand exploded desks over this. Hell, he thought he'd take a thousand explosions on his body over this. But Bakugo always went for what he knew would hurt the most. His knowledge when it came to that was vast to a frightening degree. Ashes and sparks fell to the floor, yet the bully wasn't satisfied. He raised his arm back and hurled the burnt notebook out of the window. Splash. There went his dreams. Izuku stared numbly at the place where his book had once been minutes ago. His idiotic smile was still glued to his face. He wouldn't give the other boy the satisfaction of seeing him upset. Katsuki broke the silence with his next words.
"If you really wanna be a hero so badly, pray for a Quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!" Bakugo turned around and left, his lackeys following after. Izuku just stood there for a good few minutes before leaving.
School was finally over for the day, but Izuku was unhappy. After retrieving his sopping wet notebook and assessing the damage- irreparable, as he'd feared- he'd promptly realized that he had to be at his part-time job in fifteen minutes, and it was all the way across town. Several miles away. If he didn't get there before his manager did, he'd be canned for sure, and he really needed the money. Izuku sped up and jogged into the underpass with a slight exhale. He hated being late, but he liked running. It relaxed him, forced him to expend energy on things that weren't his thoughts. It was a way to get out of his own head for a while. A part of him wished he could keep going forever- run so far that none of his problems would ever be able to catch up to him. It would be nice if things were that simple.
Of course, some days even running couldn't clear the thoughts swirling and mucking up his head like sewage in a drainage pipe. This was one of those days. His muscles strained uncomfortably with each step he took. He was tired. His constant beatings at school combined with his workouts and nightly vigilante patrols put an unthinkable amount of stress on his body, and as a result a thorough, constant, bone-deep exhaustion had settled into every inch of his being that never seemed to leave. But more than that, he was tired of trying so hard all the time. He couldn't remember the last time he took a break, did nothing, or did something purely for fun. He never had time for unnecessary things like that. He could never let his guard down; he had to be vigilant 24/7. Constantly give his 100% while simultaneously wearing a smile. The burden that was placed on him was back-breaking, yet he couldn't afford even a second of rest or else he knew he wouldn't be able to go on anymore.
He had to work harder than everyone else, be better, stronger, smarter, just to be considered equal to them, but that still wouldn't be enough. He had to be the best. Perfect. Even though he was already at such a disadvantage. It was tiring. He was tired. Tired. Stop being so pathetic, an imaginary voice mocked. You chose this path for yourself, didn't you? Is your resolve so weak that it would falter at the first sign of trouble? You wanted to follow your dream, and now you're paying the price for it. It's no one's fault but your own. Yes, that was right. Izuku had known what he was signing up for when he decided on his future. He had been aware of the risks, and of what he would have to do, yet he still chose it anyway. In doing so, he had accepted any and all of the consequences, hardships, trials, and pains that came with that choice. He'd done this to himself; he had no excuse. He didn't have the right to feel this way, nor did he deserve pity for his situation.
Just push it down and deal with it. You don't have the right to complain, since becoming a hero is the only reason you're alive anyways. If you let every single thing get to you like this, you'll never be able to survive when things get harder. You won't even be able to justify your reason for existence. You'll be more useless than you already are. Are you okay with that? He balled his hands into fists. He couldn't give up on heroism. It was all he had. But did he deserve to have something like that? Him, the useless Deku who couldn't do anything, whose own parents left him because they couldn't stand to be around him anymore? Who was he kidding? He wasn't worthy of such a noble title. Was it all hopeless? Should he just give up? He was so caught up in his own thoughts and the pounding of his feet against concrete that he didn't notice the sludge creeping across the ground towards him.