Heyo~ I'm going to try and not do authors notes, as it falsely adds to the story word count and that annoys me. Just wanted to thank you for all your follows and love. Hope you like this chapter.

XXX

Midoriya was the oldest child at the orphanage. He got his own room. It wasn't in bad shape and it wasn't a bad orphanage. Not in the matrons were kind and the children were free to play and eat as they wished as long as they listened to them and the rules.

Be in bed by ten o'clock.

Do your homework and chores.

Eat all your food.

If you were good, you'd get an allowance.

It was painfully easy for Izuku to get used to the orphanage. He knew there wasn't a chance for him to get adopted and if he was being honest, he didn't want to be. He's already had a family and he didn't want to replace his mom.

He changed schools and he blended in with the background easily enough. He's been quiet. Always had been. But he's never spoke unless he had to since his mother died.

He got good grades. He stayed in shape. Life went on.

Life went on. Unfortunately.

The matrons quickly learned that Midoriya Izuku was as independent as a child could get. He made his own food, did his own laundry, woke up and went to bed without being told. He was a good kid. They left him be for the most part.

It was only a couple months after everything when Midoriya was walking out of a convenience store when the teenager heard a scream.

It was afterschool on a Friday and he was in casual clothes, a hoody and jeans. He had taken to wearing a beanie at all times and red sneakers that he found that were always sold at the store down the street. The sun was coming down and he was due to head back to the orphanage.

Midoriya stood, eating another chip as he decided what to do. He had stopped working underground after his mother died. He'd rather not get involved in anything like that again if he could help it. Luckily, he could.

There was another scream and he found himself running reguardless.

He slowed when he saw what was happening. It seemed so cliché he wondered if it was real.

"Hand over all your money!"

The man hastily complied, going as far as handing over his watch. His eyes glanced worriedly to his girlfriend who was held at knifepoint.

The two low-lives laughed. One of them had a large head and breath Izuku could smell from here. The other had clawed feet that were thrice the size of normal. Sometimes, Midoriya found himself thankful that he was quirkless. It would be better than having their quirks.

Midoriya quickly held a finger to his lips when the woman saw him. Her eyes glinted with understanding but yelped in pain when her hair was pulled. The teen frowned, grabbing a piece of plywood that was half cracked and leaning against the dumpster. It was rotting, molding and had slightly suspicious stains. Once he found a good grip, he aimed for the mans kneecaps and swung.

The foot guy fell and the other flipped out. Midoriya jumped backwards as the other lunged at him. The knife was big.

He ducked, aiming a kick at the others feet and he fell hard and fast. Izuku stood, looking between the two with his fists raised, waiting for them to stand. And waited some more.

"…The hell?"

"Thank you so much, you're a hero!"

Izuku looked at the two, almost forgetting they were there. He nodded, looking back at the two lowlifes. The confusion was evident in his voice when he replied, "No problem."

The man shook his head stubbornly. "No, thank you! I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here."

Izuku swallowed, nodding and made a move to leave. The others shout stopped him.

"Wait! How can we thank you?"

Izukus face showed his discomfort, coughing uncomfortably before looking back at the two. He continued to walk backwards.

"Just be careful next time."

The two showed surprised but nodded, yelling their thanks again but Midoriya paid no heed.

Once he got back to his room, he locked the door before sitting in his desk. His fingers tapped on his desk anxiously before opening his laptop. A goodbye gift of sorts from his mothers doctor and the social worker.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head as his fingers typed what he had been avoiding for months.

Hero.

Super simple and his heart constricted at the articles that came up. His mothers last words rang empty in his ears and he slowly added to the search. Emeralds narrowed in consideration.

Quirkless heroes.

There was nothing. Just as there hadn't been years ago. But…

His mother wanted it and what could it hurt? It wasn't like he had anything to lose.

Since the dawn of heroes, you needed a quirk. It didn't even matter if it was helpful or useless. You had to have one or it seemed impossible for you to be one. It's always been that way. Overtime, quirks changed from an annoyance to a state of humanity. It became the norm.

It's just the way things were and if you didn't have one then you were different. Useless. Disabled. Stupid.

At least that's how Izuku remembered it. He hadn't talked about his lack of quirk to anyone in years. Like, years. Even when he worked underground, people thought he had some kind of quirk. It usually leaned towards analysis or the brain.

But no. He was quirkless. And smart, apparently.

He sighed, pulling the beanie off and letting his head fall onto the desk with a loud thump. This was insane. And stupid. Exactly what his mother wouldn't want.

But she was smarter than to think that he could get into a hero course without a quirk. Hell, get anywhere without a quirk.

Izuku didn't know what she was talking about. Maybe she wasn't even being serious. There was always a chance that she was just saying that to make up for what she believed to be a mistake. It hurt to think his mother would do that but he didn't know.

He didn't know anything nowadays.

He sat back up, pulling a notebook from his shelf. He allowed a pang of regret. He had burned all his notebooks in a bout of rage a couple months into his mothers fight against cancer. Hell, he was still mad. That didn't mean that he doesn't miss all his notebooks.

All the time. All the effort.

He whined, opening a new page and grabbing a pencil.

He still thought this was stupid and probably not what his mother had in mind but he needed to do something. He was tired of feeling…stuck. He was tired of not doing anything. Everyday had a routine and it was getting tiring.

If Midoriya was going to do this, he was going to do it right. Well, technically what he was going to do was illegal. Highly, illegal. Go to jail for years illegal. But it was for a good cause. He wasn't going to do anything bad.

God, now he sounded like a villain.

He slapped himself, shoving his beanie back on and got to drawing. He remembered thinking, months ago, that he wasn't a hero because he did it for money. Not that he ever called himself a hero. But he was never a villain. At least he liked to think not.

But if he was going to do this, it was so that he could help people. Without any bigger plans or desires. Was that selfish? Did that even make sense? Maybe it was hypocritical. After all, he was doing this to make up to his mom, right? For what? He didn't know. Maybe it was because she asked?

Fucking shit, this was insane.

XXX

Midoriya sewed around the small child on his lap. She was about two, her parents having died in a crash. Izuku learned not to get close to the kids, especially the younger ones. They always got adopted, luckily. That doesn't mean he doesn't miss them. A little bit.

On a side note, he mused as he was finally finishing his costume, the little girl currently sleeping on his lap was adorable. Completely and utterly adorable. She had only been here a week and she immediately latched onto him. She had a flying quirk, obvious given the wings she had. They looked like a typical angels, but light blue and not white.

Izuku sighed, wringing his fingers out and slumped away from the sewing machine. He was glad the matrons didn't ask why he wanted it. They hadn't used it in years so they didn't care. Midoriya got the feeling that they had actually forgotten about the machine.

He carefully lifted the girl up and walked out of his room, making sure to shut the door. He made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dinner started ten minutes ago.

"You got her to sleep."

He sent the young patron an amused look but didn't say anything. They were having sandwiches, again, but he didn't mind. Shifted the kid higher onto his shoulder, he ate with one hand, not bothering to sit down.

"How was school?"

The kids were screaming at the table. The couple that ran the orphanage went on a much needed vacation two days ago. They were due to return at the start of the new week, but that didn't mean that the two remaining workers weren't struggling. Because they were.

Ten kids, sans Midoriya, were a lot to care for. They tended to not include Midoriya in their daily complaints because there wasn't anything to complain about. At times he was the only one the kids listened to.

Midoriya shrugged. "It was fine."
The other male scoffed but didn't say anything. That was his answer whenever somebody asked. Fine. He was fine. Maybe one day they'd believe him.

"I'm gonna go lay her down."

The worker nodded and quickly defused the food fight that almost started. Izuku shook his head, walking down to the nursery. He laid her down, thankfully she didn't need to be changed.

After telling the same worker that he was going to bed, he headed upstairs. He was definitely not going to bed. He was in his final year of Junior High, thankfully. The school year was just starting so hopefully he would have time to finish making what he had in mind before the school year got too in depth.

He had thrown out his old accessories from underground a little before his mother died. He needed to get new ones.

After dressing in dark clothes -not there he wore much else these days-, he made his way onto the roof before jumping down to the trampoline. Ah, despite not doing 'hero' work or working in the underground, Izuku frequently snuck out. This wasn't new.

Dagobah Beach was far, but it was a really good spot to find materials and scraps. He had to buy the fabric for his suit at the store, but he made the holsters and braces from the stuff here. He had finished a crafting shed when he first came here just a couple weeks ago.

He was hesitant to do this, but he figured it would be best if he had both a lethal weapon and a non – lethal weapon. He really didn't like to think about what would happen if he got caught but knew it was more than likely.

So, after much thought, he decided for a tri-folding quarterstaff and push knifes. It was pretty risky since he wasn't trained in either of them. But he was a quick learner and had taken a couple hand-to-hand lessons at Hisashis prompting. He hadn't wanted a completely useless son, of course.

At least the bastard was good for something.

Heating metal was really hard, really hard when you didn't have top notch equipment. He also learned that gloves are a good thing. This was quite the experience.

"Shit!"

The broken piece of metal cracked. Again. He was getting really tired of that happening. It was luck alone that this beach never ran out of metal. He tried again.

It took the whole week but by the end of it, he had two knifes and the quarterstaff. Thank god.

Once that was said and done, he waited until a few days into the new school year passed before making his…debut. Most of the kids were tired having gone back to school after the summer break so they were asleep. The matrons were just glad to see a bed.

The pants were leather for durability. He wore a light chainmail long sleeved shirt under a dark green, zip up hoody. It was tighter and short sleeved. He was so proud of them not turning out to be crap. Even if it took many, many attempts for them to look as nice as they did.

He gave up on finding shoes that he actually liked, when the only ones that seemed to fit his apparently high standards were the red sneakers from the convenience store. However, they were modified. He couldn't make them completely sound absorbent, but it was close.

The bracers were black, layered with both leather and thin metal. They went on his forearms. He wasn't planning on making shin or elbow ones at all. Those were a bit harder too make and he's been losing his patience.

The holsters on his thighs, for the push knifes, were green. The quarterstaff holster was for his back, between his shoulder blades. They were the same green as the other holsters but had his self given name burned into the sheath.

Midorikari.

Unless you have ever had to come up with an alias, shut up. It was hard. He knew it was stupid. But he tried his best. That's what matters.

So, Green Light it is.

It was original, okay?

Izuku took a moment to wonder who he was talking to before deeming this as more evidence that he was, in fact, insane. He then made his way to his window and followed the normal escape route. He pulled the hood over his hair and pulled the mask up.

His hair had grown longer, being able to put it into a ponytail. The mask was black and went up and over his nose.

He took a deep breath, giving himself a moment to act on his knowledge that this was going to end terribly before he found himself running down 6th street. He climbed the fire escape before settling on a roof.

This was a really, really bad part of town.

Perfect place to start, right?

XXX

A week later, five nights of which were spent out and about, Izuku could tell you with all honesty that it was painful. Legitimately painful to be a vigilante. So far, he had been punched in the face, kicked in the balls, (that was a long story) got stabbed in the arm and thrown through a wall. Twice.

Despite all this, he found himself beginning to enjoy it. Which probably wasn't a good thing. What was a good thing, was that he usually wore hoodies around so nobody saw the bruises and the huge ass bandaging he had on his arm. He was glad that this was working and nobody was calling for his insanity. Yet.

Right now, he was in the middle of a math test.

He had no fucking idea how he wasn't failing school right now. Not that he wasn't smart, he knew he was. But he spent most of the time sleeping through class. Still, homework came back with little to no mark downs and tests were nothing but a brain teaser.

Who knows? Maybe school was his quirk after all.

He snorted, slumping further into his seat at the glare the teacher sent.

His eyes glanced at the clock. Maybe he'd have time to browse through a hero feed before he headed out.