Hey you all, and welcome to my first ever attempt at a story. This was more of a test and I didn't really have a plan, I just wrote the first part of this story and decided to finish and publish it to see if I could try writing bigger stories. As you can guess English is not my language and I apologize for any mistakes on my part. I've never written anything besides school stuff, so I tried a couple things in this fic and again I'm sorry if it's hard to read or anything like that. I would love to have some feedback on this and the way I write stuff, so please tell me what I did wrong and what things I could improve on. I have a couple of ideas for a bigger project, so please tell me what I should do differently with them. I already know that a plan would be a good star. Anyway, please enjoy this one shot, with a slightly different setting than in the original manga/anime.
I would also like to thank a certain writer who gave me the confidence to start writing. I'm not complete sure about the rules on this site (even though I read them) so I'm not gonna put their name here, but I'm sure he knows who I'm talking about. So, thank you!
Lastly I should mention that I don't own any of the characters or anything else from the world of my hero academia.
After what felt like an eternity the elevator finally reached its destination, bringing it's precious cargo to the top floor, just like it had done countless times before. After making sure it was securely in place, the elevator slowly opened its front half with a quiet rumble, followed by a sharp "ding", that seemed to echo in the silent hall.
After a second the silence was accompanied by a repeating thump, that echoed in the otherwise silent space. After the third thump the elevator joined in with the footsteps by repeating it's actions from moments before, only this time doing it in reverse, quickly making its way back to the ground floor.
As the noises that accompanied the elevator began to lessen in volume, the slow, heavy and uneven thumps got further and further away, leaving behind the elevator shaft, followed by the little waiting area, that had a couple couches together with a set of chairs, and instead nearing the wall opposite of the elevator.
Here the hall split in two, continuing to the right and left respectfully.
Both sides had a similar hall to the first one, only this time they lacked the common area, and the walls we lined with doors. For the briefest moment the thumping stopped, before starting again and continuing on it's way to the left hall, leaving behind a series of echoes.
Normally this wouldn't have been anything remarkable, but today the uneven rhythm of the footsteps, together with the unusually heavy steps and the otherwise ghostly silence in the building, made the thumps stand out, giving the halls a tense, almost creepy atmosphere, mimicking a scene from a horror film.
Despite the dark atmosphere, the thumps continued on their journey, taking another turn to the left, before taking a sharp right.
Anyone could've found themselves lost in this maze of red and brown, identical doors and turns, and no one could blame them, for they too, would most likely find themselves lost.
But the thumping never stopped.
It was heading somewhere, and it wouldn't allow itself to get lost, not after years of living here and getting used to this maze like building.
Not after a day like this.
He wouldn't allow himself to get lost.
Not before he saw it.
Not before he cracks open a cold one.
After another right, it seemed his trip would never come to and end, until the footsteps began to quiet down before finally coming to a rest, just outside of what seemed to be like any other door in the building. Outside, this particular door seemed like all the others, a dark brown wooden door, with a minimalist design. However, in reality this door was the gatekeeper to the dragon's nest, a place of refuge for a certain individual, who just finished a months worth of work, in a single afternoon.
A place such as this was expected to hold a certain air of dignity and hard-work, however in his case it couldn't have been further from the truth.
The clinging of keys could be heard from the entrance, soon joined by the turning lock. After a few seconds the lock finally gave away, granting access for the key's holder. The door was quickly shown to the side, creating a loud BAM when it came in contact with the corridor wall, that oddly enough seemed to have faced this kind of treatment before, judging by the marks of wear. As the wall was once again assaulted by the innocent door, another form had already begun it's offence. A wave of light assaulted and infiltrated the dark room making it's way just at the end of the corridor, not being able to push past the seemingly endless darkness. In its advance the light managed to reveal the outline of the owner of these footsteps, showing a dark silhouette of man.
The unnamed man wasted no time and held up his hand, searching for the small light switch located on the right side of the door. In just a second the switch was found, and the lights flickered to life, shoving the darkness away from the corridor, forcing it to crawl deeper into the apartment. Corridor now alight, the man closed the worn wooden door, using considerably less strength than before, not feeling like replacing yet another one. After making sure it was locked and sealed tight, the man slowly began to remove the top layer of his clothing, freeing his shoulders and back from the extra weight, and allowing his body a chance to cool down, after spending so much time under heavy clothing and being forced to work most of the day in overdrive...Not even mentioning the interview he just had, or his trip to the hospital before that.
Putting his brown jacket and his worn, black sneakers back to their rightful places, the man finally allowed himself to sigh and relax, having refused to do so before he reached his home.
Now, with his shoulders loosening up and his sore muscles finally starting to quiet down their protests, apart from his legs, since they still felt like they were made from the heaviest of lead. He stood there for a moment, letting all the tension from earlier today be swept away, almost feeling like the ocean waves were washing over him, taking all the stress with them, and leaving him in a peaceful set of mind.
After a few moments the man snapped out of his thoughts, when he noticed something from the corner of his eyes. On the floor, next to his feet, were a cluster of letters, coupled with some magazine covers, newsletter and flyers for all kinds of nonsense. It seemed there were at least a few weeks worth of mail there.
Groaning, the unnamed man knelled down, despite the protests his legs gave. Managing to make it to the floor, he quickly picked up all the pieces of paper, before beginning his ascent to normal heights. After some struggle he almost managed to stand with a straight back, losing his balance at the very last second, just barely being able to hold himself steady with his left hand on the wall. After a moment he was once again in control of his legs and making his way to the end of the corridor, using his hand to keep himself steady. His legs wobbled under the weight of his tired body, threatening to collapse at any moment. Soon he was standing at the end of the corridor, thanking his luck for not breaking his legs nor his back. When he felt that he could stand without help from the wall next to him, he began to search for the light switch with his now unoccupied hand. The figure managed to find the light switch and gave life to the apartment lights with a single flip of his finger. Grimacing slightly at the over bright lights, that he still needed to change.
As the whole apartment bathed in the artificial light, the mystery man was forced to abandon his shadowy disguise and reveal the man underneath
Standing in the corridor that led to the living space, was a man with sharp facial features and jet black, messy and spiky hair. This hair and the head underneath it, were attached to a muscular, if not a little rounded body, that could be seen under his simple white tank top, completed with black cargo pants, both of which had clearly seen better days. On his face, the man wore a look of disinterest and relief for being able to rest in his home after a tiring day. His dark brown eyes were large and roundish, and they showed signs of tiredness and impatience, though the left one was swollen and showed evidence of light bruising. Even without his eyes being half closed and swollen, the large bags shadowing his eyes were enough to make him look a couple years older than he was and adding to this aura of maturity was his overall tired posture, something that shouldn't have belonged to a man of his age. The last detail worth mentioning on this man's otherwise plain, but tired face, were the four pairs of freckles, located under both of his eyes.
The figure moved his head as he quickly scanned through the small, box shaped room. It wasn't anything special, just a simple medium sized living room, that might have been a little messier than most people would have liked it. His gaze lingered on the windows on the opposite wall for a moment, searching for anything that shouldn't be there and keeping an eye out for any emergency vehicles or sirens. Sensing nothing out of the ordinary, the man lowered his gaze until he was looking at the object in the middle of the room. Sighing in content, he clicked the switch again, letting the small amount of evening light of the city illuminate his room.
As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting, the man made his way to the center of the room, right next to an old beaten couch, dropping the letters on the small black table standing just in front of it. Before he settled on the comfortable looking and welcoming couch, the man took a couple steps forward to crap the remote, laying in front of the television with a quick swipe of his hand. With the remote in hand, he repeated his steps, keeping his eyes on the television screen, before finally dropping down on the couch with an audible thump. As he made contact with the soft leather surface, the television screen came to life, the sudden light quickly expanding into the darkness of the room. The screen showed a news anchor in a blue and white dress meddling with a stack of papers, together with a man dressed in a grey and black suit, who was in the middle of fixing his golden colored hair.
-"And we're live"
"The sudden call made the golden haired man do a double take, causing him to swing his arms around like he was swatting non existing flies, barely missing his female counterpart. After he almost managed to fall off his chair, he placed his hands in front of him on the desk in record time, before clearing his throat and opening his mouth, starting to list all the major events of today."
The mysterious man paid them no mind, already being used to this kind of behavior courtesy of spending most of the day with them, quickly growing weary of their over exaggerated personalities and characteristics. Only reason he was willing to hear their obnoxious voices again, was to make sure he didn't make a complete fool of himself. After all, he wasn't exactly in the best condition during his interview.
First interview in years and I'm high on painkillers...great job Midoriya. It didn't help that the man in TV kept reminding him of a certain blonde who had been a real headache during his time in UA. Both figuratively and literally.
Not that he weathered other people any better.
After his thought process caught up with his last sentence he felt a small tug, at the very outskirts of his mind. Before his mind could continue with this topic, he promptly hopped down on his feet, hoping to wash that troubling truth with some burning liquor.
Though to his credit he steered away from the liquor shelf located just left of the television, going past it and appearing in the small, unlit kitchen area. Another left and a couple steps and his shadow fell on the refrigerator door, the man knowing its place despite lack of light. Wasting no time he gave the handle a forceful jerk with his left hand, throwing the door open and lighting the area around them in a sharp, yellowish white light. He scanned through the barren container before his eyes fell on his target. A single, unopened beer can that might as well have his name written on it. Reaching with his free hand, he could soon feel the cold metal at his fingertips, before he closed his hand around, taking it from it's resting place. As he closed the refrigerator door, hi's burning throat made itself known.
Hoping to dull his arid throat, courtesy of not keeping it satisfied during the tiring day, he cracked the can open with an audible hiss and took a long sip. The man then made his way back to his living room stopping by the table where he left the letters from earlier. He had half a mind to burn them all to ash but ultimately decided against it, figuring that his day had been pleasant enough and few more bills couldn't hurt him. He also thought that today he would actually read the notes inside, instead of burning them like he had done past these couple of months.
Picking up the stack of paper with his free hand, he settled down on the couch, bringing his eyes on the TV, where the familiar pair were talking about local crimes being stopped by a group of vigilantes. Apparently they're three brothers, all three of them sharing some kind of lightning based quirk. Taking a quick sip out of his drink, he brought his attention to his left hand, more precisely to the pile of letters. Immediately he started removing all the coupons and advertisements, dropping them on the couch just to his right, taking care of them at a later note. As he meddled with the leftover papers he noticed something unusual. He felt something heavy amongst the normally light papers, too heavy to go unnoticed, but too light to be anything alarming. Before he could investigate the odd mass, he saw a name that made his heart skip a beat. Setting all the other papers aside, he quickly read the name on the letter again, making sure he didn't misread it.
And to his dismay he didn't.
On the top right corner of the elegant, white envelope, written with black, formal text were four dreadful words.
Ripping open the envelope and taking the piece of paper hidden inside he began to read through the text, feeling more annoyance and dread sweeping through him with every word.
THE AMERICAN HERO INSTITUTE
FOREIGN HERO-APARTMENT
Name: Hisashi Miroriya
Hero name: Dragon Fierce
gender: Male
Born in: 14.7.247 AQM / 18.9.2376 BQM
Quirk: Flame Breath
Place of birth: Japan
Citizenship: USA
Hero license number: DR98 5678 456YX
Mr Midoriya. We regret to inform you that due to your recent complications, the Hero Institute is considering suspending your hero license for an extended period of time. We are giving you a three month trial, to show us that you are capable of doing hero work under the current laws and restrictions. If we declare this trial as a failure your hero license will be suspended until further notice. In the case that you will be declared as a safety threat to yourself, or others your license will be suspended permanently and you'll be forbidden to apply for a hero license in the region overseen by the A.H.I. Trial will be in session immediately after this letter is sent, regardless of when and if it reaches you.
Sincerely: Mack Hovens from the Foreign Hero- apartment.
This was it. The moment of truth has come.
He knew this day was coming, and he didn't even know why he tried to deny it. He just knew that it had cost him one month from the trial, hoping that if he didn't see the letter it wouldn't come true. He must have forgotten about it sometime along the day. He cursed himself for ever opening that envelope.
Feeling his temper rise Hisahi took a deep breath and took a moment to collect his racing thoughts. Soon he felt his mind become clearer, if only a little. Hisashi then took the piece of paper and folded it into a ball, before throwing it in the air and incinerating it with his burning breath, causing the left over embers to fall down on the floor - which was already in dire need of cleaning.
As he watched the smoking embers fall down, he reached for his drink, and after getting a hold of it he took a good sip and placed it back on the small circle that the cool metal formed on the otherwise smooth black surface of the table. He contemplated the bitter sweet aftertaste of alcohol as he reached for his brow, hoping to dull the light headache that his wandering mind had caused.
Before he had a chance to move his hand any further from the can, he remembered the odd mass he had felt prior to his unpleasant message. He reached for the letter in question reaching it in seconds. Just as his fingertips grazed the edge of the envelope he heard the line hadn't heard in a long time. A line that should in theory prove his capabilities as a pro hero. Hisashi removed his hand from the mysterious paper and placed it on top of the couch, copying the look of a teenager trying his best to woo the top girl in class, though to his credit he succeeded. He turned his gaze towards the television screen, where he saw the female counterpart of the already familiar duo speaking with such haste Hisashi thought not to be possible for anyone without a speed enchanting quirk.
"Today seems to be busy today for our normally "quiet", little metropolis. As if the trio of lightning fielding vigilantes wasn't bad enough, we got to witness a real superhero fight, when a local old timer Dragon Fierce apprehended an A-class villain GroundBreaker. We have video footage of the fight and we even managed to get an exclusive interview with the flamey hero that we'll be showing after the fight. All of those who own a weak stomach might wanna turn the other way, the footage we're about to show is unedited and therefore bloody and gory, so just the way we like it."
Hisashis' earlier annoyance started to evaporate ever so slightly and a new feeling began to take its place. A feeling of accomplishment and pride for seeing what he had today. Those feelings were quickly snuffed out, when he realized that it wouldn't be enough to save him. Taking down a single villain, even someone as powerful and frightening as GroundBreaker wouldn't compensate for all his failures during his last five years, nor are the all missed paperwork and legal documents he "forgot" to fill.
No, he would need a miracle to get out of this.
The mood inside the apartment dropped like a rock being thrown down a cliff. Hisashi's mind paid little attention to the over dramatized fight on the tv screen, instead he focused on his actions earlier today. He did see glimpses of the fight and every time he saw himself get thrown with his back onto the concrete street he winched, still feeling numb apart from his aching legs and his head.
He couldn't help but wonder why he did what he did today. More precisely he wondered how he did it. He was a hero, but for what?
Deep down he knew the answer to that question and it made his mood drop even further.
A partially loud scream tor his mind back to reality, where he found himself looking at the TV. He watched as his TV counterpart flew across the street and came to a stop at a brick wall. He could still remember the pain of broken ribs and the irony taste of blood upon the impact. He watched, both on TV and on his couch as the villain made his way to the beaten and bloodied pro. He remembered the feeling of anger and uselessness he felt during that moment, paralyzing feeling of failure and powerlessness.
It was a familiar feeling. Maybe even too familiar.
He also remembered his life flashing before his eyes as his opponent prepared to crush him against the wall. The villain would have succeeded if his savior had kept quiet. He still remembers the fierce look of determination and craving on the kids face as he screamed at him, begging him to stand and fight. "I BELIEVE IN YOU DRAGON, KEEP YOUR FLAMES BURNING!". Those words echoed inside his mind and gave him the strength to keep the fight going.
It was also this kid that caused his mind to wander. Not his words, nor his pleading. It was his eyes. Round eyes filled with childlike wonder and excitement, hiding a raging inferno inside of them. He had seen those eyes before. He could still feel the heart piercing sadness from them.
Hisashi took the beer can and emptied it with a single gulp. He quickly rose on his feet and left to find another one, settling back on the coach after a quick trip across the apartment. He could still feel his mind racing, looking up memories he would rather not see and he could feel his mood plummeting by the second. Deciding that he needed a distraction he scanned through the content on the table in front of him, quickly settling his tired eyes on the envelope he had toyed with earlier.
It was a silly thought. To think that a single letter could change his mood for the better. The truth is that he's alone. And soon he would be jobless and homeless as well. It wasn't something a piece of paper could fix, it wasn't something he could just change for the better. It was his life, his future. And the only one Hisashi could blame was himself.
Why me? Why AM I the one who's being punished? He had spent the last 10 years building his career as a pro hero, only to have it all taken away from him by the Hero institute, all under the claim that he missed some paperwork. Just four years ago he had been well on his way to the top 50, securing the 65th spot on the rank board. Now he wasn't even in the top two hundred.
Another can was emptied and another one appeared in his hand. Looking at the tv, he barely managed to catch the beginning of the interview. Hisashi took a good look at himself on the TV. He couldn't even remember the last time he looked himself over. He wasn't as muscular as he remembered and he looked more tired than he thought. He even seemed to have gained a few pounds. He lowered his head and took an instinctive look at his belly, confirming his assumptions. I really had a fall, didn't I. He frowned at the thought.
Instinctively he emptied the can he was holding, bringing his total for tonight to four. He brought his attention back to the interview happening on screen. "So, what's the deal with the USA? You were born across the sea in Japan, correct?" Hisashi left out a sigh. It wasn't sad as the ones before, but one filled with nostalgia and memories.
He thought about his last ten years in the states and the years in Japan before that. Even if it was 12 years ago, he could still remember the colorful culture and people of Japan. Memories of the sights and smells, the ever present smiles and the roaring engines on the busy streets hit him like a wave. A wave that he would have normally avoided by climbing higher away from it, letting the wave pass him by without a touch. This time he couldn't bring himself to climb. He was too tired, too high up in his own mind. Looking down in his mind he could see all the memories, all the people he had left behind looking up at him as he rose further and further, climbing the ever growing mountain of people he used to know, people who used to care. And now he was at the top, at his mind's limit. There was nowhere left to go. All he could do was to stand there, looking over masses of shadowy masses, watching as the waves rose ever so higher, eventually reaching him. He felt a cold sensation as the black liquid slowly raised and began to envelope him.
He closed his eyes. Feeling mentally exhausted, he didn't have the strength to keep himself a float. He could feel himself sinking under the weight of his memories. At first he didn't see or feel anything, but soon they hit him. Noises of the busy streets, the smells and the shouts of vendors at the local market. All the smiling people and his fellow heroes. Even if it was over ten years ago, he could still remember it clearly. His house and his friends. The city of Mufasa, his long lost home. He dreamed of visiting Japan again, but he never went through with it. He was too scared of facing them again. He was scared of facing him.
He couldn't remember the last time he thought about them, the last time he saw them in his dreams. He had been too busy these past years, trying to succeed in his goal. Even if everything else had changed, for better or worse, he's goal was still the same as it had been all those years ago. To become a hero and prove himself to the world. To prove himself, that he did the right thing.
His mind drifted from Japan to the early memories from his new home, all the people, the paperwork and housing, brand new places and culture...
Has it really been ten years?
He could still remember when he made his first arrest in Los Angeles, following a night of celebration. Taking down a local drug dealer who had tried to find buyers in a local school, he had started his career in America with a bang. After that he had moved to the city of New York, deciding that LA was already packed with criminals and heroes and as such had too much competition.
From there, he had fought robbers, druggies and everything in between, climbing in ranks and establishing a small, but active fanbase.
A fanbase that he had mostly lost along the years. Though he was happy to see that someone still regarded him with admiration, seeing the kid today was a grim reminder of what he used to have. All of his fans, his pride and ranking had vanished in mere years...not that he cared about that.
And all it took was one simple mistake. A mistake that caused him to over burn himself, in attempts of redeeming himself. Mistake that turned his feelings into a raging fire, that left his mind charred, before extinguishing the last of his passion.
The death of two innocent and beloved police officers. Not that he was directly at fault, after all how could have he known that the robber was going to kill the shopkeeper? Or the fact that the police officers he had left to deal with the crook would have been so careless as to act on their own, without waiting for reinforcements. Hisashi took another sip out of the half empty can. It's not like I could have stayed...captain celebrity was waiting for me after all. It was a lame excuse and he knew it...they all did. All meaning the press, the public and his fans...not mentioning the hero institute. If it wasn't for his track record, he might have lost his license right then.
Hisashi closed his eyes and let out a tired sight.That could have been for the better...he half opened his eyes and fixed the blackened ashes on his floor with a tired glare. He closed his eyes and muttered a silent curse. Damn hypocrites with sticks so far up their asses they became numb to the smell of their own shit...Hisashi stopped himself before he could go any longer with his drunken rant. After all he couldn't really blame them. While his track record had skyrocketed, following the dead of the officers, his other hero duties had taken a dive off a cliff. The anger and the need to redeem himself were a great fuel for his inner fire, but they quickly turned into arrogance and caused him to become sloppy. This caused him to miss most of the paperwork-the one part that was crucial when working in law enforcement-especially when most of the criminals you faced ended up in the hospital - with third degree burns and broken bones...if they were lucky.
Hisashi felt a small shiver run up his spine when he thought about one of his most recent complaints he had received from the committee. Apparently turning a living human - a serial murderer and a rapist, so barely a human, to a boiling pulp of oshiruko soup wasn't very hero like. It was marked as self defense and for once Hisashi was glad of the so called "pro privileges". If a civilian had done anything even remotely close to that, they would have been shot on the spot. Guess a little corruption doesn't hurt anyone.
"So let's cut the chase. Who's the lucky girl, or boy, we don't judge here, who ignites the fire in your heart?"
Inko. That single name flashed through his ever drunkening mind before he had a chance to stop it. Once again he closed his eyes, not paying attention to the verbal beating the female was giving to her coworker after that cheesy attempt at a pun. This time the smile on his face was real and it held real joy, mixed with a dose of sorrow and regret.
Inko. Inko mido...Itsukeru. The greenette of his dreams and the main star in his high school romance.
Hisashi pictured the forest green hair in her usual style, a bun and barely long enough so it would brush her elbows. Next he pictured the light emerald green eyes, that sparkled like a nuclear star. He grimaced at the poor choice of words but didn't let it ruin the perfect image in his head. After her captivating eyes came the shy, but ever loving smile that he had grown to love.
And just like that, after countless years, here he was looking into the eyes of the woman he once called his wife. A warm smile spread across his lips and he pictured them in their apartment, back when their lives were so much simpler. Just after UA, where he graduated as a pro hero and Inko graduated from a nearby business school. Those three years in UA, really were the best years of his life.
Even the constant shouting from Hisashi, the mixed signals he got from Nemuri, or even the always present frown on Aisawas face weren't enough to dampen his precious memories.
As he thought back at the time he spent with Inko, his smile slowly left him, replaced by a somber expression. Of all the things he had achieved both during and after UA, including helping All Might and some of his classmates take down a crime syndicate, there was one thing that outshines them all. The birth of his son, Izuku Midoriya.
The first months were the scariest, most nerve wracking months of his life and they caused him more sleepless nights than Hero work ever could.
But they were also the most cherished. Seeing his own son grow, take his first steps, almost running headfirst into a flower pot and hearing him utter his first word. Even though it was "All might", and not "daddy", or even "mommy", it still filled his heart with joy and made him the proudest fire breather in the world.
That was, until he learned he would be quirkless.
At first it felt like a strange dream. Then, as Hisashi began looking up quirkless people and the effects of not having a quirk, especially on children, the dream suddenly turned into a nightmare. Bullying, discrimination, outright racism, lower education and hiring levels, increased crime rate against and within quirkless population and finally, a 60% increase in suicide cases compared to people with quirks.
Even to this day, he still couldn't believe that things had gotten so hellish for people without quirks. Hell, he couldn't figure out why no one had done anything to fix the damn situation. Surely the higher ups, the government or even some lone council member saw those numbers and thought something about them. Hell, politicians could even do it for the votes. Fifth of the population should be more than enough to earn them a seat. What the hell do they gain for turning a blind eye for them anyway?
His somber expression turned sour and it was mixed with deep regret and hurt. I can't believe I chose to do the same things as those bastards. He gritted his teeth in annoyance and clenched his hand into a ball, his nails slowly burying themselves deeper in his skin.
The scene of a happy family talking among themselves turned into a sight that made Hisashis heart ache.
He saw himself standing in the doorway, while Inko and a five year old Izuku stood across from him, looking at him with hurt in their eyes. Even in the memory he could still feel the betrayal in Inkos eyes and hear the venom that coated her words as she held onto a quivering Izuku. "Why...why?". Inko looked like she was ready to burst into tears, but held her ground, refusing to show any sign of weakness to her soon to be ex-husband. Hisashi stared back at them, his cold eyes showing just the slightest bit of remorse, a feeling that went unnoticed by her. With one final heavy breath, he left the apartment, closing the door as Inko brought a broken and weeping Izuku into a hug, as she finally allowed her tears to fall free, the pair breaking down in to a mess of tears, sobs and silent curses from the now single parent. Behind the door Hisashi wasn't doing any better, his shirt slowly drowning in fresh tears as he made his way down the silent hall, cast in a somber atmosphere.
He slowly opened his eyes, his breathing heavy and uneven. He was hunched over, clutching the sides of his face with his hands. The news was still on, but his gaze was unfocused. The screen was blurry and the colours seemed to mix together, creating a whirlwind of fireworks that danced in his vision. The voices coming from the TV were nothing more than nauseating static, that stringed his eardrums like mild electric shocks.
His chest felt tight, like there was a heavy weight over it. He found it hard to breathe, and he thought it would be better if he stopped it altogether. At least that way the pain would go away...Hisashi's eyes closed tight and he felt salty tears making their way down his cheeks. No...I won't run again...I WON'T TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT ANYMORE! Once again his eyes were thrown open, but this time they showed an emotion he hadn't felt in ages.
Pure, unmasked rage. The temperature slowly started to rise around the sad excuse of a man who was clenching his hands so tight, his fingertips left shallow, bloody marks all over his bruised face.
Why...WHY...As the question echoed deep in his mind, Hisashi felt some of his earlier sorrow slowly replace the anger. Slowly, he straightened his back and held his head high, letting it settle on the back of the couch, his hands slowly falling to his sides. Why does this always happen to me? Why is my first instinct always to run when things go to hell? Before he could answer the question he had been asking himself for years now, his subconscious answered for him.
Because you're a piece of shit and a coward.
In an instant all of his anger was back and it was already too late to quench the fire within. Hisashi leaned forward and with a yell of pure hate knocked the whole table over, causing all objects from the table to be thrown unceremoniously on the ground, leading to a loud crash. Following the initial crash were the sounds clanking metal and flapping paper, followed by a metallic click.
Click? Thought Hisashi, who was ready to turn his whole apartment into a blazing inferno, starting from the stack of papers on his left. The man in question slowly faced the direction where he heard the unexpected sound. At first nothing caught his eye-expect the unneeded mess and the amount of cleaning he would be doing for the next two days, but slowly his eyes fell on a single letter at the very top of the mess. The letter he had been eyeing this whole evening.
Gradually, his curiosity overcame his anger and forced him to move towards the table and the mess surrounding it. It only took a couple of steps before he was kneeling in front of it, turning the table around and placing it back on its rightful place. table set, Hisashi gently picked up the letter with his right hand, while picking up the rest of the papers with his left, setting them aside on the table. It was then that he noticed something peculiar about the letter. It looked cheap and slightly brownish and it looked like it was made in a hurry. Another thing was, that apart from his address the paper was empty, no other contact information or anything. And a Japanese stamp? Baffled Hisashi eagerly ripped it open, getting tired of waiting and wanting to know if all the fuss over it was worth nearly reducing his entire house to a pile of ash.
The thought caused a small shiver to run up spine as he thought about the other inhabitants of the said building. He took a quick glance at the his other letter of interest - the one that was currently sitting on his floor as a pile of ashes and embers.
Deciding that he had wasted enough distracting himself he shook his head wildly and proceeded to rip the not yet burned envelope open with a single motion.
As the edge of the paper was ripped open, a single roundish disk dropped on the table without a sound. He had half a mind to back off in case it was a bomb, but ultimately decided against it. As if someone used that much effort for me anyway. Eyeing the strange metallic object, Hisashi could feel his curiosity growing by the second. Slowly, he put the open letter next to the disk - like object and went to touch it. When his finger was inches away from brushing the cold metal, the disk came to life and he was greeted by a man he, and the possibly the entire world would recognize instantly.
"I AM HERE AS AN PROJECTION''-came a voice that made Hisashi fall on his rear, his eyes opening wide. All Might? But why..and how? Before Hisashi could ask himself any more questions, the ever smiling blonde opened his mouth again. "I know it's been a while but with great power comes a great amount of paperwork." Hisashi's eyes quickly shrunk to look at the hologram suspiciously. It's been a while? Last I saw you was when our agency helped you with the Emerald snake case...Over 5 years ago. Once again he was interrupted from his thoughts by The Symbol of Peace. "My apologies young man, but…"
This time Hisashi froze. Young man? I wouldn't really call myself that but...he ignored most of what all might said after that but a single sentence was enough to get his attention back on track. All Might...works at UA? Before he could ponder this piece of information anymore he was brought back to the moment at hand...by a literal hand. Apparently Hisashi wasn't the only one tired of All Might's constant blabbering. He could actually feel a small smile forming on his lips. Still a buffoon aren't you, Mr number one? As All Might got back on track Hisashi could still feel his earlier questions lingering in the back of his mind. There has to be a reason for this. Maybe they somehow got the wrong addres- "Even though you passed the written test, you got zero combat points in the practical exam".
Before he could continue with his questioning, something clicked inside Hisashi's head. A random letter with a Japanese stamp...No...don't tell me. " Of course this means you didn't pass". Hisashi could feel his heart aching once again, as a fresh batch of tiers erupted from the corners of his eyes. You damn brat...I told you quirkless heroes didn't exist, but you just had to go out there and try? You had to...you just had to...you just had to make me so damn proud of you Izuk- "Of course that's what I would say, if that was all there is to it".
Huh? Was all Hisashi could muster before another video started playing in the projection - something that All Might seemed excited to share with him...or perhaps Izuku.
The video showed a girl, around his age when he began his studies in UA. He didn't pay her much mind, he was far more interested in the other being shown on the scene. It took a second but finally, a name came to him. Hizashi. It wasn't that he didn't recognize his old classmate-it was that he couldn't believe where he was seeing him. A teacher, huh? Well, headaches were your specialty. Focusing back on the scene, he could see the girl awkwardly making her way towards his old peer. "The person with curly hair and freckles"...Hisashi immediately straightened on the floor. There's no doubt about it...It's him...it's really him.
He could once again feel the familiar wave of feelings closing around his mind. Before the negative emotions had a change to drag him under despair, the girl's words managed to hit a pause button on his mind, halting the negative emotions and replacing them with confusion.
"Is it possible to give him some of my points? When he saved me, he said something about not having a single point, so I thought…"
The parent of the said child was having difficulties wrapping his head around the words of the brunette, as more and more of his negative thoughts were pushed back, giving room for curiosity and puzzlement, and another, almost foreign feeling. A feeling that felt surprisingly...good.
Those feelings only grew when instead of telling the girl to scram and to forget about the boy who had already failed the exam, Hizashi let out a hearty laugh, before telling the girl not to worry about it. Just what the hell happened, Was the question that had already been lingering in Hisashi's mind for the past few minutes. His answers were delivered by All Might, as the scene with the voice hero and the unknown girl switched to a scene that had All Might inflate with pride.
"Your actions spurred others to act", were the words that accompanied the change of scenery. The scene in question showed the very same brunette from earlier, only this time she seemed to be stuck under a sizable piece of concrete and heavy amount of debris, while the rest of the candidates were running from what seemed to be a fifteen-story high robot of mass destruction.
UA seems to be doing fine money wise...or maybe the rat finally lost it.
His attention quickly shifted to the panicked cries of the girl and the mass of running bodies - all of whom were running in the opposite direction. So these are the heroes of tomorrow? The very same heroes that the association praises and encourages to be like? Pathetic. Before he could scold the High schoolers any further for running away from a robot the size of a small skyscraper, on their first ever combat related test, he noticed a singular body going against the flow, moving towards the girl, his red shoes kicking a cloud of dust along the way.
And that's where Hisashi saw him. There, running straight at the colossal chunk of metal was a single teenager, wearing nothing but a blue jumpsuit, his emerald green hair flowing as he ran. The very same teen he left without a father all those years ago, the very same quirkless child he screwed over because of his own cowardliness. Izuku Midoriya. His son. The only thing he regretted giving up on. The only thing he made that mattered to the world. The one thing he was supposed to protect and cherish. Even from this distance he could make out the bright emerald green eyes and the four freckles under each of them-the only thing that they now shared.
Did Izuku even know who he was? Did he even know the name Hisashi Midoriya? Did he...he turned his gaze on the floor.
He wanted to keep going. He wanted to list all the wrongs, all of his regrets. The ones about Izuku, the ones about his hero work, his life. He wanted to feel sorry. He wanted to feel bad. He wanted to beg for their forgiveness, to hear their anger, to hear their hate. To...to…
His mind came to a sudden halt. He was on the brink of a new wave of bitter tears. But he held them in. Something sparked deep inside of him. The unknown feeling from earlier was back, but this time it felt different.
Hisashi gaze lifted back on to his son, who was now standing next to the girl, only a dozen yards or so from being crushed by the mass of living metal.
Izuku, a small, quirkless teenager, stood his ground against the giant oppressor who had caused all the other hero candidates to scream for their parents, while running away with their mostly figurative tails between their legs. He stood there, unmoving but noticeably trembling with fear. His eyes were opened wide as he tried to measure up to the titan.
All it took was one glance at the girl under the rubble and his whole sentiment changed. Gone was the crippling fear, replaced by a face of pure determination. The trembling seized, overcame with power and serenity.
And then Hisashi's hearts stopped.
Before Hisashi could question the green arcs of lightning surrounding his son's body, Izuku was shot like a bullet from a gun and in the air, rapidly closing the distance between him and the face of the giant robot. Then, putting all his power into a single punch, he thrusted his right hand forward, caving the robot's head in with a mighty cry that could only have come from the mind of true poetic genius.
SMAAAAAAAAASH!
It was all he could hear. In fact the scene was the only thing he saw, as it repeated over and over again in his mind. His heart slowly started to beat again, drumming slowly and carefully.
Just as Hisashi prepared to test the trustworthiness of this reality by breathing flames capable of burning through solid steel on his arm, All Might's voice once again blasted through the metallic object.
"How can a hero course reject people who save others and do the right thing?". As Those words left the mouth of the blond giant, his ever present smile seemed to grow even larger, to the point it seemed to tear at his face and threatened to unhinge his jaw. Not that Hisashi paid any attention to it, as he completely ignored his smile, that was somehow still spreading along his face, as his attention was solely on the last sentence to leave that smiling mouth.
"Come young Midoriya. This is YOUR hero academia."
With that the hologram closed in a burst of blue particles and the disk grew silent, laying dead in the middle of the table, the small red light slowly going out and signaling the shutdown of the device.
As the light finally turned off, the apartment grew silent. Hisashi could only stare at the strange device in front of him, silent as the rest of the apartment.
The TV was still on, but the interview was long over, replaced by a mediocre blockbuster from a few years back. Not that it mattered to him. Even though the blasting noise from the TV was enough to wake a sleeping Aisawa after a coffee free week, all Hisashi could hear was silence and the occasional "smash", whenever the scene repeated in his mind. The movie was very much the same, as the bright colours and actions seemed to blur together, and escape his vision.
Hisashi sat there, trying to take it all in and failing miserably.
On one hand, he was relieved. Despite all the wrongs the world did to him, Izuku managed to push through them and chased his dreams, even making it into UA, a feat that not many can pride on.
On the other, he felt betrayed. Despite leaving him without a father, crushing his dreams and ruining his childhood, he still managed to pull himself together and achieve his dreams. And he did all without him. If Hisashi had stayed, would he still have made it? Or was it his absence that made Izuku succeed? Did he leave them both for nothing?
In a way it's what he wanted. Leaving them, he always thought that Izuku would give up on his childish dreams and tried to pursue something more real. Perhaps Izuku would vent his frustration on the world on the father who abandoned him, shielding his own fragile heart. Maybe, if Hisashi wasn't there to ultimately fail as his parent, Izuku would never have to feel disappointed in his father.
It was a long shot and in the end it seems like it did the opposite. Izuku never gave up on his dreams and his smile was just as bright as he remembered it.
I guess I should be happy for him. Little brat proved me wrong.
His grin fell just after the thought.
So why can't I be happy for him?
He pondered on that for a moment. It didn't make sense. He was happy for him - he truly was and his chest was swelling with pride.
And still...it felt like his heart wasn't with him. The happiness and joy felt hollow, like he was missing something...
Or someone…
His mind was quick to figure out the missing puzzle piece, Hisashi always was the brainiac of the family after all.
I wonder if Izuku got that from me? Or maybe he got his mothers naivety. That would explain his kind smile.
Hisashi let out a sigh
Not like it matters. I'll never see them again, it's not like I can just march in there and expect to be welcomed. It's not like I can make it up for them by paying their bills
But maybe something could
The thought was sudden and more than likely caused by his intoxicated mind, but it still made him glance at the burned remains of the hero committee's letter.
Two months…
That's how long he had until his career as a hero would be over.
Unless I…
Hisashi quickly shook his head trying to push that thought out of his head. It was already too late. Only thing he could do is to start looking for a new job.
Just like Izuku was supposed to look for a more realistic dream.
Hisashis mind came to a halt and he let the realization sink into his mind. Or just like when my friends told me I had no chance with Inko...or when my parents told me to apply for school other than UA.
He felt like an idiot. He was just like him. Always told that he couldn't and always proving them wrong. The kid really is a Midoriya.
Hisashi face twisted in self loathing and shame.
If only I remembered that sooner…
He had no excuse really. He was never the type to get nostalgic over something and he stopped thinking about his parents soon after he graduated. They were never the supportive type and Inko was never a favorite of them, so they were mostly forgotten by the time Izuku was born. After that he was constantly worrying about his quirkless son and had no time to think about his own past deeds, even if he should have. And then, after leaving Japan he was busy with all the work that came with being a foreign hero. There wasn't time to think about his past or even if he did the right thing. All that mattered was his quest to become a hero and prove his worth to himself and his family. To show them he was sorry for everything.
A quest that was so stupid, it was doomed to fail. He could see it now, how naive it was to think that by stopping a few crimes he could actually earn their trust back. And now his career was over and his last chance of redemption was growing slim.
Hisashis expression shifted. His eyes slowly focused on the strange device sitting idly and his sad expression shifted to a neutral one, his lips forming a thin line.
No
Slowly his face began to fill with a new emotion. I'm not finished yet. Not until I make it up to them. He slowly straightened his back and flexed his tired muscles, groaning slightly as the still tender meat shifted and turned.
His mind was still slightly hazy from all the alcohol but it was slowly clearing as he made up his mind. He was determined to give this his all, just like Izuku gave his all for his dreams.
It's the least I can do after everything.
His determined expression gave way to a small smirk. Can't let him beat me that easy.
Suddenly his mind grew heavy and he felt the intoxicating effects of alcohol finally taking their toll on him. Normally he would have been delighted to know he would be out cold in moments time, but now he felt the opposite. He already spent a month of his trial in drunken blur, he couldn't afford to waste anymore time.
Hisashi already knew that it would be pointless to resist the sleeping sensation, so he reluctantly embraced the toxins and felt his mind slowly shutting itself off.
Two months...that's when I'll prove them all. And then…
Hisashi closed his eyes, settling down on the couch.
Top 50. That's when I'll see them again. That's when I've proven myself.
Now that Izuku has ignited his passion once again he would not stop, until he made his goal come true.
This time he would keep his promise and make them proud.
He had his own hero to back him up after all.
With that final promise the alcohol finally put him to sleep. The last thing he registered as his contagiousness left him was the image of his 15 years old son smiling at him, holding his hand out for Hisashi to take.
Despite being the one to leave him, he was still the one who ended up getting lost. And now, it was Izuku who had to steer him on the right path. A path, that will hopefully someday end up leading him to his family.
Hopefully you liked it, or at least didn't hate it if you read this far.
This was basically an AU, where Hisashi went to UA and instead of working over seas, left his family feeling that he couldn't measure up as Izuku's father and hoping to make it up to them and himself by doing something worthwhile with his life.
I imagined that Izuku would sent the UA recording to his father, knowing his father must be upset and worrying over them. It was Izukus way of showing that he was fine and that his father shouldn't worry about him.
Thanks for reading, can't wait for the reviews!
