"But what if this doesn't work out? I haven't seen my dad in a long time and what if he's…"

Izuku mumbled to himself as he waited in line for his ticket, paying no heed to the crowd giving him a wide berth as he continued to mutter aloud.

It was nothing new after all.

This was Inko's last ditch effort to help Izuku. Despite his best efforts to hide it, his mother could tell.

Izuku wasn't happy.

Why wasn't he happy?

Well, for one his oldest friend, one Bakugo Katsuki had been bullying him ever since he was four, and he was thirteen now. That was one.

And for two, in a world where everyone and their mother found themselves with a superpower to call their own, a 'quirk', Izuku himself was quirkless.

And the world made sure that he never forgot it. Bakugo made sure he never forgot it. Izuku could cover bruises and burns all he liked, but he was terrible at hiding his feelings. Especially from his mother.

Parents, no matter what age they were or what their abilities were, would always try to shield their children. And in some cases, like Izuku's he tried to do the same, with his mother. So they simply exchanged worried glances and neither wanted to admit what the problem was.

Not aloud anyway.

Until the slime incident.

After one delightful encounter with his friend turned bully, Izuku had made the mistake of taking a different path home, one that was more isolated, as he had wanted to think and to school his features into something resembling neutrality before heading home.

Happiness was too tall an order after a day like this one. But it seemed like even neutrality was a bit much to ask for, as the sewer grate behind the teen exploded upwards the moment he walked by it, and a...villain made of slime enveloped him, almost like it was trying to wear Izuku like a suit, as it crammed itself into his mouth.

In hindsight, that's exactly what it was doing. For it was fleeing from All-Might and was hoping for a quick place to hide. And while it was quite a stretch to call Izuku lucky at this point, he did manage to survive it…

Until All-Might also came out of the previously exploded sewer grate and cold-cocked the slime villain, knocking it out...and Izuku along with it.

When Izuku woke up, he had been placed underneath a tree just before the tunnel entrance with a note apologizing for the delay, and of course for not being there when he awoke.

He got an autograph out of the deal though, so there was that. And so, with no visible injuries, except for a few new bruises, Izuku trudged home. Hopefully his mother was at work, so he had some time to decompress and hide his bruises before she got home.

But she was. And so a long overdue talk was had between mother and son, as Inko finally learned everything that Izuku had been dealing with, AND the fact that he was still aiming to be a hero and go to UA.

"But without a quirk...how will you…?" Inko trailed off, not wanting to finish the question.

It still hung in the air though, like a noxious cloud that couldn't, or wouldn't escape them.

"With…" Izuku would start, but he could never quite figure out what he was going to say.

With everything that he had? It wasn't enough for the slime villain today. That wasn't enough for Bakugo. Heck, that wasn't even enough for his mom! And so he said nothing.

But as soon as Inko realized that Izuku couldn't be swayed from this path that he was embarking on, she decided that it may be time for Izuku to spend a little time with his father overseas.

Izuku knew that she was hoping he would see everything that the man was doing and would realize that he didn't need to be a hero. That there were other options for him. But she was wrong. Being a hero was all that he had. It was that or nothing.

But he hadn't seen his father in quite some time, so it couldn't hurt.

And at the very least, it would get him away from Bakugo for a decent amount of time.

The airport was crowded. Like really crowded. How on earth was Izuku supposed to spot his father over the-

"There's my boy! I'd recognize those green curls anywhere!" A deep voice said as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Izuku held back a flinch through sheer force of will and turned to face the person. So this was his father.

Hisashi Midoriya didn't look like a work-a-aholic. His brown hair was bristle brush stiff and close to the scalp, like he'd shaved it the skin once, but it was growing out now. Had he shaved it because it was curly like Izuku's own and he hadn't liked it? He was thin, in a wiry muscled way, and sort of reminded Izuku of a coyote.

It didn't escape his notice that underneath his lab coat there was a bulge at the hip. He wondered if Hisashi actually knew how to use the gun, or if he just enjoyed the security it provided.

Izuku said none of this, and gave his dad a watery smile, one that was matched by a beaming grin before he wrapped the boy in a hug. One that Izuku returned just as fiercely.

Okay, so maybe a tiny part of him did in fact miss his father. Izuku felt the rumble from his father's chest as he spoke to the teen. "If you're anything like your mother I have to beg you not to start bawling," He chuckled. "Because if you start, I'll start and then we won't be going anywhere for awhile! Now let me look at you!" He said, releasing Izuku from the hug and holding him arms length apart, to inspect him.

There wasn't much to see. Izuku was thin for his age, with big fat green curls that ran in every direction from his head...and freckles. That was Izuku Midoriya in a nutshell. But his father must have seen something he liked for he nodded and led Izuku out of the airport.

Which was good, because there had been a lot of reunions and the like going on around them, and Izuku didn't want to intrude on any of them.

At least he hadn't cried. Baby steps were still steps after all.

XxX

Empire City was...colorful, and yet not. Izuku felt that the descriptor fit Empire City nicely. Sure the city itself wasn't exactly screaming in color, seeing most of the buildings were in various shades of grey, grey or the offbeat black. At least those 'colorful' buildings were all in interesting shapes.

Wait, interesting. Izuku meant intimidating. All of the buildings here were so large! And so close together. It was like walking downtown back at home, only everywhere you went it was downtown. It made Izuku's head spin. He didn't seem to know where to look, there were so many interesting things to look at!

Hisashi seemed to know where he was going though, navigating through the throngs of people like a pro, and a firm grip on Izuku's hand, he ensured that they did not get separated.

It took some doing, but eventually Hisashi pulled him into a restaurant and they found themselves seated across from each other in a booth, after having their orders taken. Izuku skimmed the menu, grateful that he had studied so much going through school.

It wasn't like he had friends or a quirk to distract him after all. After a lengthy decision, Izuku decided to try the 'smokehouse burger' . The picture made it look appetizing so he hoped for the best.

"So, Izuku, has your mother told you why you're here?" Hisashi asked, locking his fingers together and looking at him.

"To spend time together?" Izuku tried, trying to put as much blandness in his voice as he could. He figured that he was supposed to talk him out of attending UA, and he would not be swayed.

Not by anyone.

"Something like that…" He said, with a secretive smile playing on his lips. "Have you ever wondered what exactly it is that I do here Izuku?"

Not even once.

Izuku hummed, non committedly, prompting Hisashi to continue. "I work for an organization known as the First Sons. We're an organization dedicated to the advancement of humanity by transhuman means."

Izuku perked up at that, "Transhuman? As in people with quirks? You study them?"

"A little. It's more along the lines of how to grant or enhance abilities, or give various enhancements to the human body. Your mother tells me that you want to be a hero, despite being quirkless...and nothing she says will change your mind?"

"It's not like she ever said anything before." Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He glanced up frightfully, to his father smiling wistfully at him.

"Yeah, Inko's pretty bad at confrontations...but that's neither here nor there. As a father, I would be remiss if I didn't do my part to expand your horizons!"

"What exactly are you saying?" Izuku asked, eyes widening, as he was no longer certain about where this conversation was headed.

Hisashi unfolded his arms as their food arrived. "What I'm saying is this. You want to be a hero, that's fine. We can discuss your plans and what exactly you're doing to achieve that lofty goal. In the meantime, you'll intern with me at the First Sons, to get a taste of what you could be doing if the hero thing doesn't pan out. Who knows? Maybe you'll like it."

And with his piece said, Hisashi tore into his burger, leaving Izuku to think over his father's words and plan things out. His plan to be a hero. It was strange, but he had never really thought of it. He'd better think of something fast because his father didn't strike him as someone to accept that Izuku wanted to be a hero because 'there was no other option.'

"Can I have some time to give you a good answer?" He hedged.

Hisashi nodded. "I'll give you a week, but you'll start coming with me to work tomorrow to get your bearings as well. Now let's talk about something better. Tell me how things are for you at home. How's class going? Have you made any friends? A girlfriend perhaps?"

"Dad!" Izuku yelped, covering his face as he felt like everyone was staring at them. Mocking him. He couldn't handle it.

Of course his father made it worse.

"Oh? A boyfriend then? That's fine. We Midoriyas don't discriminate"

"Dad!" This was a growl. A warning that Izuku tried to stress that he needed to stop this conversation yesterday. Or else Izuku would explode. He was sure of it.

A warning that went completely ignored of course.

His father was the worst person he had ever met.

"Alright...how to be a hero...where to start?" Izuku pondered aloud as he finished setting up his new room just the way he liked it. It was a fairly similar set up to the one that Izuku had at home only with one glaring difference.

There was no hero memorabilia in the room at all. While the change was a bit jarring to Izuku, it was no greater than all of the other changes he was adjusting to. And if he was being perfectly honest he sort of liked the blankness.

It was almost like he was starting over. There was no Deku here, no Bakugo, just Izuku, and his father.

And his hero analysis. Which he was starting now.

Why was this so hard?

Why don't you take a swan dive off the roof and hope you end up with a quirk in your next life?

Oh yeah. That was why.

No matter how he spun it, he still didn't have a quirk. And he was nothing more than a plaything for that slime villain to discard and use as he pleased.

Should he even attempt this?

"I'll never know if I don't try though…" Izuku muttered to himself as he grabbed his notebook. This one was a new one. The Izuku Hero Analysis Book Version One.

He opened the book and began to write. The very first thing that Izuku knew that he needed was evasion. If he couldn't overpower villains or take their blows, then Izuku simply had to ensure that none of their attacks ever reached him. The more Izuku thought about it, the more he decided that evasion and speed were the most important things that he needed to have as a hero.

"Animals were always stronger, and tougher than humans, until people created tools to even the playing field...I not only need to be faster, I need to be smarter. And more prepared." Izuku continued as the ideas continued to flow as he wrote in the book.

"We all have two arms, two legs, and one head as a base. We are more alike than we are different. Quirks are just gifts that some people have...I just have to find mine!" Izuku decided.

And with that said, Izuku continued to scribble ideas into the night, until he fell asleep at his desk, where his father found him when he eventually went to check up on him.

Izuku woke up the next morning in his new room, for a moment unsure of where, when, or how he was. But as he blinked away sleep, the details trickled back in, the flight, the goal, his father who he could hear talking beyond his door.

Hisashi's upbeat tone seemed to seep through the walls of his room. He sat up, stiff and hungry and adjusted the pants on his hip before wandering out in search of food.

Hisashi was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself some coffee and speaking into a cell phone.

He waved at Izuku, then rolled a bag of bagels across the counter at him. In the corner of the kitchen sat several bags of groceries. He nodded at them.

Izuku smiled, taking a bagel. He then rolled the bag back across the counter, where it bumped up against Hisashi's coffee cup. He watched his dad for a moment, and then remembered what his dad was going to help him do.

Gain a quirk.

Was that even possible?

"What's wrong?"

Hisashi's question brought him back. The man now had his elbows on the counter, loosely intertwined.

"Is it really possible for me to gain a quirk? To...be a hero?"

Hisashi frowned, and rounded the counter in slow, measured steps, and held something up between them, inches from his face.

It was his hero analysis journal. The one that he had started filling out the night before.

Izuku swallowed.

"Do you know what a quirk is, son?"

A pause. He thought he did, but his answer probably wasn't what his dad was looking for.

Izuku must have taken too long to respond for Hisashi started speaking again. "Before quirks were commonplace, there was a divide. Some people claimed that people were born with quirks, and they were others suggesting everything from radioactive goo and poisonous insects to random chance."

"So we've had proof that they've existed, so the question became how. Were they born that way? Or were they made that way?"

Izuku watched the way his dad's eyes took on a sheen as he spoke of quirks, and the change in his tone, lower, more urgent, even as he did his best to hide his growing excitement in the subject matter.

"So let's assume,". Izuku said slowly, "that they were originally made. You guys want to figure out how."

"Hisashi flashed him a smile. "That's the idea."

"What did you find?"

Hisashi's grip on Izuku's journal tightened.

"Trauma."

"What about it?"

"It was the only commonality I could find in all the cases that were even close to well documented. Anyway, bodies react in strange ways under stress. Adrenaline and all that. We figured that trauma could cause the body to chemically alter."

He began to speak faster. "But the problem is, trauma is such a vague word right? It's a whole blanket really, and we needed to isolate a thread. Millions of people are traumatized daily. Emotionally, physically, what have you. If even a fraction of them developed a quirk, we'd be much further along than we are. So I knew that there had to be something more specific."

"A genre of trauma? Like car accidents" Asked Izuku.

"Yes, exactly, except there weren't indicators of any common trauma. No obvious formula. No parameters. Not at first."

Hisashi let his words hang in the air. Izuku turned the radio from low to off, practically bouncing on his feet.

"But?" He prompted, cringing at his obvious eagerness.

"But I started digging," He said, "And the few case studies I could dig up-unofficial ones of course, and believe me it was a pain to find-the people in them weren't just traumatized, Izuku. They died. I didn't see it at first because nine times out ten when person doesn't stay dead, it isn't even recorded as an NDE. Hell, half the time people don't realize they've had an NDE."

"NDE?"

Hisashi glanced back at Izuku. "Near death experience. What if a quirk wasn't a product of just any trauma? What if thor bodies were reacting to the greatest physical and psychological trauma possible? Death. Think about it. The kind of transformation we're talking about wouldn't be possible with a physiological reaction alone, or a psychological reaction alone. It would require a huge influx of fear, awareness. We talk about the power of will, we talk about mind over matter, but it's not one over the other, it's both at once."

"The mind and the body both respond to death, and in those cases where both are strong enough-and both would have to be strong. I'm talking about genetic predisposition and will to survive...and I think you might just have a recipe for a quirk."

Izuku's mind whirled as he listened to his father. His fingers flexed against his pants leg.

It made sense.

It made sense, and it was simple and elegant and why hadn't he thought of this out of the things he had researched and…

"Say something Izuku."

Izuku frowned, and kept his voice level.

"That's two knowns dad, but do you know how many unknowns? Even if you can definitely say that those are necessary components, think of how many other factors there could be. Heck, the subject might need a dozen of other items on their checklist. The term genetic predisposition alone comprises hundreds of traits, any of which could be crucial. Does the present physical condition matter, or only their body's innate reaction to change? As for mental states...how could you possible calculate psychological factors? What makes a strong will? And then there's the element of chance…"

"I'm not discounting any of those," His father waved him off, deflating a little at Izuku's rapid fire questioning. "This is an additive theory, not a deductive one. Can't we celebrate the fact that we're making headway into this theory?"

"It's not enough." Izuku stated.

"Isn't it?" Hisashi snapped. "It's a start. That's something. Every theory needs a place to start Izuku. The NDE hypothesis-this cocktail of mental and physical reactions to trauma-it holds water."

Something small and dangerous was taking shape in Izuku as his dad spoke. An idea. A way to twist his father's discovery into his, or at least theirs.

"And it's just a thesis," He went on. "I'm trying to find a scientific explanation for quirks. It's not like I'm trying to create one."

Izuku's mouth twitched and twisted.

"Why not?"

"Well?" Izuku had asked later that night. His dad had let him have a drink. A couple of drinks. He kept a stocked beer shelf in the kitchen and a supply of hard liquor under the sink for the very bad days or the very good ones.

"There's no way." He responded. He saw the glass in Izuku's hand, grimaced and went to the sink to pour himself one as well.

"That's not strictly true,"

"There's no way to create enough control," Hisashi clarified as he took a long sip. "No way to ensure survival, let alone any form of abilities. Near death experiences are still near death. It's too great a risk. Your mom would kill me."

"But if it worked…"

"But if it didn't…"

"We could create control Dad."

"Not enough."

"I think it could work." He said quietly.

"I think you've had enough. Shouldn't have let you have any in the first place." Hisashi groused.

Izuku stared at the amber liquid. The moments that define lives aren't always obvious. They don't always scream LEDGE, and nine times out of ten, there' s no rope to duck under, no official letter or warning. Between one sip and the next, Izuku took the biggest step he would ever take in his life.

"I'll test it for you."

He thought about it in the car on the way back from his father's workplace. He thought about it as they ate lunch, and then as he walked around and familiarized himself with the area, he thought about it some more.

Somewhere between the third and fourth glass, the question mark had become a period. There wasn't a choice. Not really. This was the only way that Izuku could gain a quirk of his own. To be the greatest hero. Worth something.

"What do you need me to do?"

"No."

"Do you have any painkillers?" Izuku asked, standing up.

"No."

Izuku had already vanished into the bathroom, and emerged with a bottle of painkillers. "I'm going to try this with or without you dad."

"No." He said one more time, but the word was distant and dull, and the light in his eyes were growing. "This isn't going to work." Even as he said it, he was walking towards his room, towards the side table where Izuku knew that he kept his notes.

Silently, Izuku followed.

Half an hour later, lying on the bed with an empty bottle of liquor, and an empty bottle of painkillers side by side on the nearest table, Izuku began to wonder if he'd made a mistake.

His heart jackhammered, forcing blood too fast through his veins. His vision swam and he closed his eyes. A mistake. He sat up suddenly, certain he'd vomit, but hands pushed him back to the bed and held him there.

"No go," Hisashi said, easing up when Izuku swallowed and focused on the ceiling tiles.

"Remember what we talked about," He continued...or was saying. Something about fighting back. Or about will?

He wasn't listening. He couldn't hear much over his pulse and could his heart pound any louder?

He was no longer wondering whether or not he had made a mistake. He was certain. Certain that in thirteen years of life, this was the worst plan he had ever come up. This was the wrong method, the fading, rationale part of Izuku said. He shouldn't have washed the amphetamines down with whiskey, shouldn't have done anything to dull the nerves and senses...to ease the process, but he'd been nervous…

He'd been a coward. Now he was going numb and that scared him more than pain because he might just...fade.

Fade right into death without noticing.

This was wrong wrong wrong...but that voice was drifting off, replaced by a spreading, sinking…

It could work.

He forced the thought through dulling panic. It could work, and if it did, he wanted the chance to hold the power, the evidence, the proof. He wanted to be the proof. He tried counting the tiles, but he couldn't keep track. Even though his heart was straining, his thoughts seeped in like syrup, new ones pouring in before the old had left. Numbers began to overlap, then blur. Everything began to blur.

His fingertips felt numb in a worrying way. Not cold exactly, but as if his body were beginning to draw its energy in, to shut down, starting with the smallest parts. The nausea faded, too at least. Only the rushing pulse warned him that his body was failing.

"How are you feeling?" Hisashi asked, leaning forward in a chair that he'd settled next to the bed. He hadn't had a drink, but his eyes were dancing with light. He didn't look worried. He didn't seem afraid.

Then again, he wasn't the dying one here.

Izuku's mouth felt wrong. He had to focus too hard to form the words.

"Not great." He slurred.

They'd settled for a good old fashioned overdose for several reasons. If it failed, it would be the easiest to explain. Also, his dad could wait to call it in until they'd entered a crisis zone. Reaching the hospital too early meant it wouldn't be a near death experience, just a very unpleasant one.

The numbness was eating its way through Izuku's body. Up his limbs, through his head.

His heart skipped, then slammed forward in a disconcerting way.

Hisashi was talking again, low and urgent.

Each time Izuku blinked, it got harder to open his eyes again. And then for a moment, fear crackled through him. Fear of dying. Fear of Hisashi. Fear of everything that could happen. Fear of nothing happening. It was so sudden and so strong

But soon the numbness ate that too.

His heart skipped again and there was a space where pain should have been, but he'd had too much to drink to feel it. He closed his eyes to focus on fighting back but all the darkness did was eat him up. He could hear Hisashi speaking, and it must have been important because he was raising his voice in a way that he never did, but Izuku was sinking, straight through his skin and the bed and the floor, right down into black.

Out of nothing came pain.

The simple, too human pain of a poorly executed overdose. Pain and dark, which became pain and color, and then pain and glaring hospital lights.

Hisashi was sitting in a chair by Izuku's bed, just as he had been in their apartment. Only now there were no bottles, no pills. Just beeping machines and thin sheets and the worst headache that Izuku Midoriya had ever experienced.

Hisashi's head was down, his fingers clasped together loosely the way they were when one was praying. Izuku wondered if that's what he was doing now, praying.

"You didn't wait long enough," He whispered when he was sure that his dad wasn't busy.

He looked up. "You stopped breathing. You almost flatlined."

"But I didn't."

"I'm sorry," Hisashi responded, rubbing his eyes. "I couldn't…"

Izuku sagged back into the bed. He supposed he should be thankful. Erring too early was better than erring too late. Still. He dug his fingernail under one of the sensors on his chest. If it had worked, would he feel different? Would the machines go crazy? Would the fluorescent lights shatter? Would the bed catch fire?

"How do you feel?"

"Not great," Izuku snapped.

Hisashi winced at the tone, but it was to be expected. "I've been thinking," He started, leaning forward. There was a barely contained energy to his limbs. His hands twisted. His legs bounced a little in his chair. Izuku tried to focus on what his dad was saying with his mouth, not his body. "Next time, I think-"

He stopped when a woman in the doorway cleared her throat. She wasn't a doctor, for she wore no coat, but a small nametag over her heart identified her as something worse.

Much worse.

"Izuku is it? My name is Harleen Quinzel. I'm the resident psychologist here at Empire Medical."

Hisashi's back was to her, and his eyes narrowed on Izuku in warning. He waved at his dad frantically, both to tell him to stop this, and to confirm that he wouldn't say anything. They'd come this far. Hisashi rose and mumbled something about going to call Inko. He closed the door behind him.

"Izuku." Ms. Quinzel said his name in that slow, cooing way, running a hand over her platinum blond hair. It was really pretty. She herself was pretty. Her accent was unplaceable but her tone was clearly patronizing. "The staff told me here that you had an accident? It's important for you to know that-"

"I didn't try to kill myself." Partial lie.

An indulgent twist of her lips.

"I just...had never had alcohol before." Total truth.

A lean of her head. Blond lockes shifted.

"I've been going through a lot...that's why my mom sent me here. I needed a break." Truth.

Ms. Quinzel sighed. "I believe you," She said. Lie. "But when we release you-"

"When will that be?"

She pursed her lips. "We are obligated to keep you here for seventy two hours."

"I have to work with my dad!"

"You need time."

"I have to."

"This is not up for discussion."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself!"

Her voice had tightened into something less friendly, more honest, impatient. Normal.

"Then why don't you tell me what you were doing."

Izuku didn't even have to think about it. "Making a mistake."

"We all make mistakes," She told him, and he felt ill. He didn't know if it was an aftereffect of the overdose, or just her prepackaged therapy. His head fell back against the pillow. He closed his eyes but she kept talking. "When we release you, I'm going to recommend that you meet with a counselor."

Izuku groaned. A counselor? Just what he needed.

"That's really not necessary," he mumbled.

Ms. Quinzel's patronizing look returned. "I feel that it is."

"If I agree to it, will you release me now?"

"You're a minor, Mr. Midoriya. I don't really need you to agree to anything. Just your father, who already has. You'll be here for seventy hours, and during that time you'll be meeting with me."

He spent the next several hours planning how to kill someone else. His father, Bakugo, sometimes even Ms. Quinzel. ESPECIALLY Ms. Quinzel. Maybe, if he told her that, she'd see it as progress, but he doubted it.