I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, you probably already noticed that there are going to be quite a lot OCs. I'm sorry about that, but I feel this is kind of needed, because the manga and anime mostly focused on those epic people with epic powers and these people here need to feel oppressed because of their status as kinda "sub-human" or maybe sympathize to a ridiculous degree with people - because of siblings e.g.

Review-Corner:

GUEST00197: Thank you very much for your support! As long as my muse lets me, I'm going to write as much as possible - and I actually have a lot of ideas how I want to structure this.

Shiranai Atsune: Here you have your answer :) And I have some plans for the villain alliance - but they don't have the same kind of ideals exactly and the villain alliance is at it's core rather evil, so no, they will most certainly not team up in that sense. Also - I thank you very much for your support!

Shadowing: Haha, thank you! I hope a few other authors will be inspired by this - maybe we'll get a few more fem!Izuku or quirkless!Izuku out of that :)

You guys rock!

Thank you for all of your support!

And on we go:

"People have only as much liberty as they have the intelligence to want and the courage to take."

― Emma Goldman

Six

9 Years

She met Munchkin again and they became kind of friends. At the start, it was more like a symbiosis. Izuku would learn how to be one with the crowd - almost invisible, how to hit where it hurts – cowardly but oh so effective, how to bear the beatings with minimal damage – it hurt anyways, but she never let them break her bones anymore. In exchange, Izuku tried to make her mother adopt Munchkin – Munchkin wasn't amused, she couldn't be found, not again, they'd get her, please don't – and after this didn't work out like she hoped, she brought her food, brought her clothes that were her own – but she'd gladly share with her- her friend, she was precious – and she snuck her into her bedroom and let her sleep there and use the shower when her mother was at work.

They worked like this.

She was happy.

And she hoped Munchkin was, too.

Munchkin introduced her to her friends – comrades, she called them, brothers and sisters in everything but blood. Izuku felt a little overwhelmed – some of those people looked like they were already 16 or older! Most of them were friendly, some of them a little cold, some indifferent. Izuku asked what they were doing in that old abandoned warehouse and Munchkin explained that they lived here. This was home. With cracked windows, old mattresses, mouldy blankets and furniture that had been stolen from the recycling depot – and crates full of money, knickknacks, stolen good. Munchkin made her swear that she told no one about this – and Izuku would never break her trust.

"We're thieves. Most of us are quirkless or have a quirk that is so insignificant that we're useless to modern society.", one of the older boys explained. She regretfully forgot his name, but she thought it started with 'P', it was something European anyway.

"If we don't steal, we don't survive." It sounded so final, so hopeless and she was reminded of her own crumbling, crumbling world – but then she thought about that word again.

Revolution.

"What if… what if you didn't need to steal?", she asked tentatively and earned sceptical looks. But she wouldn't stop now. Because in the eyes of the younger ones, the ones that were even younger than herself – she saw hope. Small and only a little flicker of a flame – but it was there.

"What if society as a whole would change, what if we could show them that quirkless people aren't useless, that we aren't less than them just because they got something more?", she was speaking fast, almost stumbling over her words in her nervousness. There was still disbelieve on the faces of some, but more had caught on, more looked hopeful.

"And how would we do that?", Munchkin asked, her eyes sharp.

Izuku gulped audibly and inhaled deeply.

"We start a revolution."

She was nine and she wasn't the only one that felt drums rattle her bones.

Seven

10 Years

The French revolution, she learned, was bloody. Izuku looked up at the giant painting, framed in gold.

Eugène Delacroix - La liberté guidant le people (replica)

Liberty is leading the people, translated the tiny sign underneath.

So many dead, but those that stood over them looked so heart wrenching hopeful. And the woman, standing tall and swinging the French flag with conviction, looked over her people with the steely assurance that this is right, this is our hope, this is our revolt. Izuku felt her breath hitch.

This – this was what they needed.

Her mother had brought her to the local history museum when she uttered her wish to learn more about their past. Because, even though she knew that a change was needed, she just didn't know how or where to start.

But now she knew where to start looking.

It wasn't the perfect model of a revolution, what with going from one absolute to basically the same absolute - but worse. Their revolution wasn't about taxes and a shortage of food.

But it kind of was about kings and queens that had so very much, while they had so very little.

Another startling difference was that they - the quirkless - were only about 20 percent of the population. There was no small percentage of the elite but a staggering difference between numbers in their case. But, she supposed, it wasn't only them - it was also those who had quirks that just weren't good enough in the eyes of society, so they probably could push the number of people who weren't okay with things up.

And was it really about numbers? Couldn't they, if they managed to bribe - threaten - the right people, made the right debut in public, managed to sneak in the right people in high political positions, make a difference even if they weren't many?

She wondered.

Her mother - she'd gained weight, too much fast food, too much work, just too much - smiled a tired smile at her. And Izuku smiled back as brightly as possible with as many teeth and as many creases at her eyes as possible. Her mothers' smile brightened slightly in response, and Izuku felt her mission has been accomplished.

"Thank you.", she said, heartfelt, because her mother didn't have a lot of time - not with her subpar quirk that just skirted the border of uselessness - not with having to feed both of them. This visit of the museum was a gift and dug into their funds

She chanced one last look at the information boards.

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité - Freedom, Equality, Fraternity

She liked the sound of that.

What did one need, to start a revolution?

She was ten and she might have an idea for their motto.

Eight

11 Years

The first time she stole something - not for herself, but for her friends - brothers and sisters and comrades - she was ten years old.

The first time she hit back - because they hit her friend and how dare they - she was eleven years old and full of conviction. A bright fire burned in her chest that she shared with her people now, with her heartbeat in her ears like a drum. The young teen was enrolled in her school and although she couldn't for the life of her remember when she'd ever seen him, he seemed to know her or rather know of her. Especially about her status as one of the quirkless.

She and Munchkin were having a good time, talking about their plans - their dreams of a brighter future, talking about the last exploits of the resident troublemaker - it was Peter, the European with a 'P' in his name - in their fold, when a voice rudely interrupted them.

"Aren't you that Deku chick?"

What one has to be aware of here is that Munchkin, as flighty and distrustful as she was at the start of their friendship, had a loyal streak that was miles wide. So she wouldn't allow anyone to talk like that to her sister in all but blood. Because she was, now that they had a common goal, that they knew each other inside out.

So Munchkin punched that guy in the nose without much fanfare.

In that moment another teen came running, a friend of that first one, apparently, because he boxed Munchkin in the ribs.

And really, even if her friend had thrown the first punch - no one touched her friend and got away with it.

Izuku planted a well-placed hit in the solar plexus of the offender and smoothly delivered a kick between the legs of the other. In the small pause that took place - with both adversaries down - Munchkin stared at her - and smiled.

They ran away after that, with high spirits because these guys most probably had quirks and they hadn't been fast enough to use them and that's when another realization hit home.

One just had to be fast enough.

In school, she met the eyes of the teen that had been hit by her friend head-on. They were green, she noticed. Green and slightly narrowed. "You.", he said and dipped his head at her, while he passed. And, she wondered, looking after him - had that been respect in his eyes? She'd only seen respect in the eyes of her own - for her ideas, for her visions, for her determination not to sink, but to float, to soar.

The other guy wasn't the same - he started harassing her. Throwing her books out of the window in lunch breaks, shoving her into the lockers, slapping her food out of her hands. And she took it because if their plan should work, she needed to be useless in the eyes of society. Yes, they'd knocked both of those teens out a few days prior, but only because who would believe them? And also - she admitted with a small crease between her brows - because both Munchkin and her were maybe a little hot-headed, when they wanted to protect something or someone. Which they had to work on. They needed a lot more self-control if they wanted to change society.

Katsuki Bakugou, her former friend - and that still hurt - noticed the harassment and in his typical manner he made a contest out of it. Who could do the most damage, who could make her break before the other?

She wondered about him, sometimes. How could one become so cruel? Would he have been as cruel to her if she'd lost an arm, or a leg, had been disabled in any other way but by not having a quirk?

And then, one day it escalated beyond reason and her head was pushed down, down, down in the school toilet in the girls' loo and she thought she would drown and she was just about to snap and just about to stab this bastard. She had the knife in her hand then, fitting snugly, drums starting to pound in her head, when he was ripped off her.

"The hell do you think you're doing?", hissed the green-eyed boy, shoving the other - wasn't that his friend? - against the wall.

She was coughing and gasping for breath, vomiting noisily into the toilet after catching a glimpse of her saviour - helper, person with common sense, she didn't like calling someone saviour even if it was only in her head.

They said more things - too muffled for her to make out, with her head pounding - and she thought she heard hitting noises, but her head swam, and she still felt nauseated. Her grip on the knife didn't falter - whoever won wouldn't stop her from changing the world, no one would - one day she would change it, she'd promised herself - and she couldn't die before that. She felt delirious.

Izuku slumped against the stall, eyes half-lidded and held onto consciousness with only steely determination.

"You alright?"

A blurry blob appeared in her vision - plain brown hair, striking green eyes. She tried to focus on them, because their colour was oh so very bright and everything else swam unsteadily.

She swallowed dry and croaked out a wheezy yes - because she didn't need help from these people - she wasn't weak, she wasn't less, not really - and they would learn, someday.

"You should hide the knife. You could get suspended if someone sees." Her grip tightened on her only weapon and he noticed. "I won't take it, just hide it. You can still grip it while hiding it in your pocket. Here- let me help you up." She tried to protest, when he carefully guided her hand to the pocket of her sweater and hefted her up by the waist.

"Wait.", she croaked as the world tilted dangerously. She took a deep breath and some of the nausea receded.

He helped her clean up with first wet paper towels and then dry ones.

She hated him a little for that. For letting her lean on him, for helping her when she could have - would have, done something about that asshole, even if it would have meant her suspension from school - would have even meant a criminal record and for helping her now, when she didn't want anyone to see such weakness.

He told her he would bring her to the school nurse and she vehemently ordered him to not do that - because it would be told to her mother and her mother was one of the most important people in her life and she did not want her to worry herself to death.

So they sat in the schoolyard, behind a small hill, ignoring the ringing that signalled the end of the break.

"I'm sorry.", he said.

"For what? You were a perfect hero there." She almost spat the word. Heroes - those mercenaries that helped people only to gain money and fame and show those that were not even allowed to try how very much moreness they had. Maybe she was a little bitter - having her dreams stomped on like that could make a person pretty angry, she supposed.

His cynical laughter made her start.

He had a useless quirk, he said. Well, they thought his quirk was useless. He could change one of his fingers into a key. His own housekey to be precise. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

That day, he only jeered at her because he had been so so very angry, at himself, at his parents, at everything and everyone - that he just wanted someone to be worse off than himself.

So he apologized again, not only for that but also for the one who held her underwater - almost drowned her, and wasn't that terrifying?

"You hit him. Isn't he your friend?" He wasn't. He actually was just a territorial bully that didn't like if his victims were hit by someone else. He had problems, that guy.

Izuku felt the world slow down slowly - her vision no longer blurry around the edges but sharp as ever.

"Who are you?", she asked and when he said his name - Kokoni Ki - she asked again, because she did not mean that. She did not mean something as plebeian as a name, she wanted to know who he was.

He told her. Told her about parents who loved him but just didn't understand, a brother that could open any lock, that he had to choose his next school in a few weeks, but who would take him? He didn't have the best grades; his quirk was basically useless and the only skill he had was an overabundance of hacking knowledge and who needed that if there were people out there that could do this so much better than him.

"I'm not needed. You're not needed."

And when she looked at him, small but so very tall when he had saved her, when he had pulled her tormentor off her, she decided that they - her people and her - they could use someone like him, they could need him, they could benefit from him.

"But you could be. And I could be."

And in his heart, drums started beating - quiet and slow, but there nonetheless.