All men are not created equal.
"Not without a quirk"
Today had been a day of tumultuous emotions, a whirlwind of shattered dreams and fleeting hope for Izuku. Meeting All Might, his idol and beacon of hope had been a momentous occasion. But the reality that followed was a heavy blow, a crushing weight that threatened to suffocate his aspirations with a single sentence.
" You can't be a hero "
The words reverberated within him, hardly destroying him as one would expect. They should have inflicted deeper wounds, torn through his soul like a razor, but their impact was dulled by a cocktail of emotions swirling within him. Regret, self-pity, apathy, and a reluctant acceptance of his limitations merged into a tempestuous storm. Seated against the cold embrace of a concrete wall, Izuku's gaze wandered over the sprawling city below, feeling smaller than ever.
The wind whispered through his unruly hair, a gentle reminder that life, with its relentless forward march, would continue unabated. Yet, Izuku found himself detached, indifferent to the world's unyielding momentum. The burden of his inadequacy settled heavily upon his shoulders, threatening to crush his spirit.
All Might's departing footsteps echoed in his ears, leaving behind an undeniable finality that seeped deep into his bones. On this desolate rooftop, a sanctuary from the judgment and expectations below, Izuku sought solace. The cityscape sprawled before him like a mocking tapestry, its twinkling lights a cruel reminder of dreams beyond his grasp.
Every moment he had devoted to this pursuit flashed through his mind. Countless hours spent studying heroes' techniques, dissecting their strategies, and nursing dreams of becoming a hero himself. Yet, these dreams, no matter how fervently nurtured, remained intangible wisps. They were nothing more than figments of his imagination, elusive and unattainable. For he was quirkless, condemned to be a mere spectator in a world that revered those with extraordinary abilities.
As the hours waned, Izuku succumbed to the depths of self-doubt and remorse. The echoes of ridicule and laughter haunted him, resurfacing every memory of being mocked for daring to aspire to greatness without a quirk. The words of his childhood friend, Katsuki Bakugo, thundered within his mind like an incessant hammer pounding away at his resolve.
" Hey, Deku! You're just a useless extra, a nobody! "
With a bitter chuckle, Izuku conceded that perhaps Katsuki was right. Maybe he was truly a nobody, destined to witness others soar while he remained tethered to the shadows. The edge of the rooftop beckoned, its allure amplified as those tormenting words echoed relentlessly—" another life. " His trembling hands clung to the precipice, his gaze fixed on the city below as the sun began its descent. The temptation to surrender, to let everything fade away, grew insidiously strong.
In his fragile emotional state, a torrent of thoughts flooded Izuku's mind. How effortless it would be to expose All Might's concealed secret, to hand villains the tools to dismantle the pedestal upon which the symbol of peace stood. How simple it would be to jump, to force All Might to grapple with the weight of guilt for driving someone to such an end. Izuku knew he would never take such a drastic step, but the thoughts clawed at him, fanning the flames of hatred, rage, and seething vitriol that crawled up his throat.
What impact would his departure have on Bakugo? Izuku shook his head, realizing that his childhood acquaintance would likely be indifferent. Yet, if he framed it in a way that made Bakugo culpable, it could work. All Might, burdened by responsibility as the symbol of peace, would delve into Bakugo's actions, unearthing a truth that would strip him of acceptance.
Another dream shattered, just as Izuku's had been. Izuku laughed, a sound both wild and tinged with hysteria, for a fleeting moment contemplating the abyss.
It would be so easy, and yet he couldn't succumb, not while his mother remained in this world. He envisioned her tears, her desolation at the loss, and he knew that he could not subject her to such agony. To make someone cry was never his intention. He yearned to see smiles, laughter, and the solace of those who found comfort in his presence.
It was this image that arrested his anger, compelling it to recede into the recesses of his being. It remained, a smoldering ember, yet it yielded to a more pressing reality—he could do nothing. He wouldn't. All that remained was to forge a new purpose for his life. All Might had hinted at it, after all, that he could still help others in different ways. A police officer, a firefighter, a surgeon—some role that would allow him to contribute.
Izuku took a deep breath, centring himself amid the encroaching darkness. Sunset had already fallen, and he couldn't bring himself to call his mother, not in this state of disarray. The journey home, he hoped, would dispel the static clouding his thoughts.
With each heavy step, Izuku carried the weight of his shattered dreams. The streets, dimly illuminated, cast long shadows that mirrored the darkness gnawing at his heart. The city, once pulsating with life, now cloaked itself in an eerie silence, as if the world itself mourned his perceived loss.
He walked past familiar landmarks, buildings that held memories of futile aspirations. The playground where he had once fancied himself a mighty hero, saving the day with a quirk he never possessed. The park, a witness to children exhibiting their powers while he watched from the periphery, a mere bystander in a world where quirks reigned supreme.
His thoughts drifted back to All Might's words, the awakening to a harsh reality that had crushed his hopes. The realization that he was, and would always be, quirkless hung over him like an impenetrable shroud. Yet, amidst the depths of his despair, a flicker of determination ignited. He refused to let his lack of a quirk dictate his worth.
As Izuku continued his sombre journey, he spotted a group of children near a broken lamppost, engrossed in play as they were led home. Their laughter pierced through his melancholy, momentarily diverting his attention from his turmoil. He observed their carefree chase, their youthful energy radiating with unadulterated joy and unbounded freedom. In that fleeting moment, he couldn't help but smile, finding solace in their untainted innocence.
The streetlights flickered above, casting a soft, guiding glow upon Izuku's path. It served as a reminder that even amidst the darkest of times, a glimmer of light, a sliver of hope, persisted. He made a silent vow to himself, a solemn commitment to find a way to make a difference, to help others despite his lack of a quirk.
Thoughts of becoming a police officer or a firefighter rekindled within his mind, embers that refused to be extinguished. Perhaps he could still be a hero in his own way, championing justice and safeguarding those who couldn't defend themselves.
Izuku's ears perked up at the sudden shrill cry that pierced the air, slicing through the mundane backdrop of the bustling city street. His heart, ever eager to lend a hand to those in need, pounded in his chest as he turned his gaze toward the source of the distress. His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of uncertainty danced across his features. Should he dash for help, summoning the heroes that patrolled the city's streets day and night? Or should he trust in his instincts, fueled by an unyielding desire to make a difference?
A cacophony of thoughts swirled within Izuku's mind, each one vying for attention, a chorus of potential paths stretching before him. But as he hesitated, the cry for aid echoed once more, pleading and desperate. A resolve blossomed within him, swift and unyielding. He could not wait for heroes to arrive.
With unwavering determination, Izuku dashed towards the alley from whence the cry had originated, his school bag bouncing against his back, a familiar weight against his frame. He rounded the corner, eyes scanning the shadowed confines of the narrow passage. There, amidst the oppressive darkness, he found a man, his back pressed against a grimy brick wall, eyes wide with terror.
Before them stood a figure, a mugger clad in the trappings of cruelty. His arms, chiselled and stone-like, bore witness to the mysterious power he possessed. His quirk, perhaps? Izuku's heart quickened, his mind whirring as he pondered the abilities this assailant wielded. The air hummed with tension, a symphony of danger poised to strike.
With a flick of the mugger's wrist, a meagre rock projectile sailed through the air, coming dangerously close to Izuku who barely had enough time to twist out of the way.
He lunged forward, fueled by a blend of untested courage and unwavering determination. His hands, untrained and raw, grasped at the first weapon that presented itself—the weight of his school bag. Its contents jostled, the textbooks within pleading for a safer, more academic purpose. But in this desperate moment, Izuku seized them as a lifeline.
His swing, though lacking in skill, carried the weight of his unyielding spirit. The bag collided with the mugger's forearm, a brief respite from the onslaught he had unleashed upon the innocent man. The assailant staggered, surprise briefly etching across his face. A momentary victory.
But the mugger, fueled by anger and desperation, swiftly recovered. He sneered a twisted smile that promised retribution. Izuku's heart hammered in his chest as he braced himself for the counterattack, the punch slamming into him like a hammer, taking his breath away and forcing him backwards.
Though Izuku's grip tightened on the school bag, he could feel the ebb of his strength, the limitations of his untrained body threatening to betray him. He had no polished technique to call upon, no years of hero training to bolster his resolve. Only the fire within, flickering and fragile. Undeterred, Izuku pressed forward, his voice rising in defiance. "Leave him alone!"
The mugger recoiled, his eyes narrowing at the audacity of the young boy who dared to challenge him. Yet, he hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. It was a momentary lull, a crack in the stormy facade of villainy.
In that fleeting pause, Izuku seized the opportunity, his voice ringing with determination. "The real heroes will be here soon. You can't escape them forever. Surrender now, and maybe they'll show you some mercy.", it was a bluff but Izuku didn't really have any other choice in the matter.
The mugger's face contorted, a battle waged within his eyes. And then, with a grunt of frustration, he turned, his rock-like hands retreating into the folds of the night. Izuku watched as the figure slinked away, defeated yet defiant.
As the echoes of footsteps faded into the distance, Izuku exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His heart still raced, the remnants of fear mingling with the heady rush of triumph. Though he had very nearly lost the fight, the victory was sweet, a cloying syrup that threatened to envelop him.
But as the adrenaline subsided, Izuku became aware of a peculiar sensation, a tingling ache that gnawed at his side. He glanced down and saw a thin trail of crimson creeping across his shirt, staining the fabric in vivid contrast. Pain surged through him, sharp and unwelcome. And it became clear to Izuku that he hadn't quite managed to get out of the way in time.
He bit down on his tongue in an effort to draw the focus away from the growing pain and made his way over to the downed individual.
They were a wreck, battered and bruised and yet it was etched with a deep thankfulness, the one which Izuku had yearned for his entire life. The man smiled a watery thing and thanked Izuku for his help as he stood. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something but stopped.
"Would you like some helping getting to the police station?" Izuku rasped out. Upon hearing his voice Izuku's face twisted at how unlike himself he sounded, today had just been one massive mess and it was clearly taking its toll.
The man pushed off the wall he was supporting himself against and declined the offer and started to walk away. Izuku followed, not only because it was the only way out but because he didn't want this person to get injured any further.
Exiting the alley did bring Izuku some semblance of comfort as the glow of the sun provided the light the alley had seemingly sucked up. The man - Izuku still hadn't gotten his name - turned to look at him and in doing so let out a bitter smile and softly let out something that Izuku couldn't quite pick up on before saying the words that he'd longed to hear before walking off.
"You'd be a great hero kid"
Something clawed in his chest, a pang of deep visceral hunger and joy that intertwined upon hearing that and Izuku couldn't stop the smile that forced its way across his face, painful and uncomfortable but undeniably genuine.
Izuku yearned for more.