I do not own My Hero Academia
Chapter 1
In the world of Quirks, the statement that not all men are born equal is a cold hard fact.
Some people have their value measured before birth, some Quirks being visible before one exits the womb. Others were in the arms of the doctor as the medical staff looked on, amazed at whatever power nature had deemed to present. For the rest, the age of reckoning is four.
At four years of age, you are judged.
It does not do to be found lacking.
Izuku Midoriya was now well into his fourth year of life and was learning this the hard way. For a child, he was pretty perceptive. He was able to recognise how it was that people's eyes tended to drift to him. At first, with that fond look, one would generally pay a child, but then came the usual question of 'what's his quirk?' and the look changed.
It became judgmental and questioning, the curiosity gaining a distinctly cruel edge as they would ask more questions. 'How old is he,' 'have you had him checked,' 'does his father know,' 'is he Quirkless?' Adults always seemed to respond much the same way, and from their reactions, the children would follow suit and thus all judged young Izuku.
His crime was being born wrong.
And he was most assuredly guilty.
The doctor had already given him the prognosis, but the Midoriyas hid the truth instead of admitting this when asked. Unfortunately, it was a lie that Izuku and his parents continued to use, taking full advantage of Izuku's age. So, while Izuku might be Quirkless as far as the rest of the world knew, he was just a four-year-old waiting eagerly for a quirk to appear.
A Quirk that would never come.
Today was another example of living a lie.
Izuku walked alongside his mother as he listened avidly to Katsuki Bakugou, aka Kacchan, brag about himself. Inko and her friend Mitsuki were discussing the ongoing sale of the market they were in, all while trying to maintain control of their kids. The task would have been simple, save that the young Katsuki already possessed his Quirk.
Explosion.
Mitsuki had gotten very adept at detecting the warning signs of her son's quirk about to erupt into life. Often whipping her hand away with practice ease before her son's quirk could sear her flesh. It had been happening a lot lately, with the summer air causing the young boy to sweat readily and his youthful inexperience setting off thin crackles of explosions on the regular.
Izuku was far more well-behaved, even trying to calm Katsuki down, although that seemed to have the opposite effect, with the young boy ignoring the green-haired child. Ultimately, the attempts to keep the kids nearby failed as Katsuki got free with his quirk, and Izuku chased him, eager to be near his (only) friend. Nevertheless, both stayed in the store, which is probably why Inko and Mitsuki let them go.
Had they only known.
…
Ima Kanashi was a wreck, a mere shade of his former self.
He couldn't do anything right. He had no friends, his family had long since kicked him out, and he couldn't keep a job to save himself. He had gotten fired from another store by the bitchy manager and was once again unemployed.
Why was he fired?
His Quirk, of course.
'Shlop', his quirk sounded like the noise a particularly unsavoury bowel movement made, and it had done nothing but ruin his life. Of course, it was an emitter, but that didn't spare him the mutation discrimination. Nope, daddy dearest had seen fit to give him his mutation Jowles, thick heavy sacks that made his whole face droop and only worsened his quirk. See, the effect of his Quirk was that he sweated a thick, noxious sludge.
That positively reeked.
He was a walking swamp, and no amount of deodorant or bathing would help. As a result, he was banned from most public baths, his last 'date' had ended in a swift twenty seconds, his family abandoned him, and he was constantly the butt of every joke.
He had been since he was four.
Things had been going great at the new old job. Sure, the boss was an overly bossy woman who spoke to him like he was a stupid mutt, but he had endured worse. The store was just a simple convenience store, but it worked wonders as it was freezing inside. It was so cold that his Quirk couldn't act up, meaning that he could function normally for the first time in ages.
He made sure to dress lightly to ensure he wouldn't sweat.
He smelt better at work than he did in his own abode, he hadn't disgusted a customer in weeks, and the number of gross disgusting sludge-filled pimples on his body had even decreased.
Then it happened.
It was closing time, and he needed to get home because they had turned off the AC already, and Ima didn't want to stink up his place of work.
Then he walked in.
Some nobody! A random business guy trying to buy food for him and his brat! Ima would have been happy to run the bastard up and get him out, but he took TEN MINUTES to choose what he wanted! Of course, by then, it was too late. Ima could feel the sweat building under his arms, the sludge making his skin feel gross.
He had never run a guy up so fast, desperate to get the businessman out of his hair.
Then he had spoken.
"God, you smell awful! Have you no shame!"
Ima had exploded, berating and screaming at the worthless bastard and telling him to take his food and leave. Ima slammed the door, locked up and left; the hot night air only worsened the situation as he ruined another shirt.
The businessman had gone on to cry to his boss, meaning the next day, when he showed up bright and early for work feeling good about himself, his manager had torn him a proverbial new one. The short spike-haired woman whose quirk was 'rainbow nails' had gone on for what felt like hours dressing him down. Ima had apologised, bowing his head despite feeling his actions were justified to try and keep his job.
The manager soaked up his apologies and then insulted him for another couple of minutes. She was mocking him for spitting on her generosity of hiring him, speaking to him as if he did not even deserve the privilege of working in this convenience store.
Just to fire him.
She wasted his whole morning verbally abusing him… only to fire him.
Ima could have killed her. She was small, and there was a broom nearby that he could have bludgeoned her to death with. No one was around yet, and they were in the store, so no one could have saved her. But Ima was no villain, so he handed her the store keys and left.
That had been three days ago.
With nowhere else to turn, Ima had spent the day wandering the streets when he tripped down an alley and broke down. He had nothing. He was a loser, a freak, a walking bloated swamp thing.
He wished he was Quirkless.
Then he met his new friend. They had come in like a saviour in his darkest moment and introduced him to the wonders of his quirk. Showed him how to feel powerful and free and how wrong all those damnable normies were.
And all it had taken was a quick hit of Trigger.
No longer was he sweating the sludge. Instead, he was firing the noxious slime off like a firehose, and it felt great! To FINALLY be in control instead of at the mercy of his Quirk made Ima feel like an entirely new man. His new friend complimented him on his powerful quirk, saying that if he wanted more to come by again tomorrow and bring his wallet.
He had brought his entire life savings.
It was only after taking his last hit that something clicked.
Something was wrong.
Really, wrong!
When he saw his reflection in a store window, he nearly threw up, he was covered in bloated pustules, and his sweat was everywhere. There was a trail of the stuff behind him, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he could smell himself.
He threw up on the spot.
He needed to wash, hose himself, spray himself, anything to get this stench off him. Luckily for him, one of those 24-hour marketplaces was up the street.
…
Inko loves her son.
She adored everything about him, from his tiny little freckles to his bushy curly hair that reminded her so much of her husband. She knew Hisashi loved him as well. Every time they talked on the phone, the first thing he would ask about was Izuku.
The second thing was if he had gotten his quirk yet.
She would have to tell him soon. She didn't think she could get away with keeping it from him for much longer. But, while she felt bad about keeping it from him, she knew she would feel even worse to hear him lose that same caring excitement as he asked about his son.
But she knew it was all temporary. She could only hope he would find something else to be excited about.
It was her greatest fear that he wouldn't.
"Mum!" her baby's voice cried out, the fear in it causing her to drop her basket of groceries as she dashed towards the front of the store; Mitsuki looking towards her, startled.
"Izuku!" Inko hollered, hoping her son would move to her voice or at least realise she was coming. However, when she got to the front of the store and was slapped in the face by an odour so powerful it immediately brought tears to her eyes, she swiftly realised why her son had called out for her.
A massive, hunched figure was looming at the front of the market, dripping some kind of dirty, black sludge that smelt as if it came straight from an overused restroom. The figure was currently screaming at the clerk, who was throwing up. Katsuki and Izuku both looked extremely ill. Her gaging noise was heard as the figure turned to her, his eyes furious and leaking that same black slime.
"Wharttggh!" the person bellowed at her, causing flecks of the black substance to cling to her face. Inko, not wanting to get the substance in her mouth, covered her face with her palm before rapidly apologising and looking away from what she now realised was a villain.
Even she knew what a black tongue meant.
The Trigger user sneered at her before walking past her and a retching Mitsuki to grab a bunch of deodorant cans.
That large man began spraying them with reckless abandon, the thick gaseous cloud covering him doing little to dissipate the stench that clung to him. Despite the quantity of deodorant he was using, the black sludge still leaking from him continued to suffocate the store with its stench.
Inko, doing her best to ignore the cloying scent, quickly moved to the boys to ensure they were ok. Both boys seemed shaken, Izuku looking sickly green while Kachan was still coughing up, his eyes crying heavily.
"Please remain calm. I have already contacted the authorities," the store clerk spoke, trying to comfort Inko.
It was a stupid thing to do.
The villain, having overheard this, spun about and unleashed a slew of sludge plastered against the clear plastic shield that protected the clerk rattling it violently. The clerk was hidden now by the thick, potent sludge, and Inko could do nothing more than pull both boys to her side as she hurried away from the front of the store and the growing ick.
Mitsuki met her at the farthest back corner, both women crouching down to shield their children as the large man proceeded to trash the shelves around him. He had begun pouring a bunch of detergent over his head for some reason when the store doors were kicked in.
Mitsuki had been comforting a grateful Inko, who was now crying uncontrollably when the sound of someone else's arrival caused both women to jerk around to see who it was. It was none other than the Hero 'Rumble'.
The local Hero entered the store aggressively. His costume made him look a lot like an American gridiron linebacker. He was big, maybe 6'4 and broad, his body having a definite barrel shape. He was known for having a rough manner of speech and taking time out of his personal life to help manage a community athletics centre encouraging kids to play sports.
Inko was half expecting him to rush the villain and start pounding him into the floor, but he seemed more cautious instead.
"Sir, can you hear me?" Rumble spoke in his authoritative tone, crouching low in a ready posture.
"Gorwawhwahy!" the villain bellowed back, shuffling away from the large hero.
"Whoa there, buddy, calm down now. I don't want to hurt you, but you ain't acting real civilised right now, and you're frightening people!" Rumble spoke again, taking a half step forward as he relaxed his stance.
"Preeeeeasewreavmoooune!" The villain whine now pressed against the refrigerator doors, his disgusting slimy form in line with Inko and Mitsuki.
"It's ok," the pro hero spoke, his voice still projecting loudly but his tone gentler, "I ain't going to hurt you. Please calm down and come with me. We can go get a hose, get that stuff off you and then I need you to answer a few questions with some buddies of mine."
The villain made an awful burping noise, his form slumping lower to the ground; Inko was struggling to tell what he was doing as the sludge did a lot to conceal his legs. But, ever the confident one, Mitsuki took the opportunity to pick up her son and pull Inko along. Her goal was evident as she made her way towards the front of the store and the exit.
They didn't even make it halfway before everything deteriorated.
…
Rumble had been trying to calm the obvious Trigger user down, believing that he was making some progress when he mentioned getting the poor bugger a hose when the guy turned hostile.
He gave a wet-sounding shriek and began to hose the establishment down with his pungent slop as he barrelled towards the front. Rumble was ready for this and sent a powerful haymaker into the villain's head, hitting with enough force that he smacked the greasy slime off his face.
As a result, the villain was sent careening through the store, going over and through the shelves to crash in front of two women holding children.
Rumble saw them, and his gut dropped.
The villain was all but on top of them, flailing about his odorous goo splattering everywhere, even on the civilians and their kids. Rumble's quirk was not good for much. He could spin up his arms to give his punches an extra 'oomph'. It was outclassed by tons of other quirks, Rumble knew it, and he was perfectly content with it; it was enough to fulfil his dream and be a proud hero.
It could have been a lot worse.
But right then, he found himself wishing he had something with some more power or versatility. "Quick, get away from him," he cried, rushing forward to jump atop the villain and stop him from accidentally hurting one of the women.
Luckily the two heard him and moved. Rumble loved it when a civilian knew to get the hell out of the way.
He collapsed on the slime-covered Trigger user, sending a fierce gyrating fist into their face with enough force to rattle their teeth. But he had underestimated his opponent, thinking that the slime was the worst about their anatomy.
He didn't realise the Trigger had done more than cause the man to leak black sludge.
It caused him also to store it.
So, when his next punch hit one of the rolls of flesh on the man's face, bursting a hidden pustule, Rumble was rewarded with a squirt of blood, puss and sludge straight to the front. He instantly regretted not having a full visor to cover his features and vowed to upgrade to such a thing as soon as this was over.
Blinded, he didn't see the villain open their mouth unnervingly wide.
Nor did he see the powerful jet of black ooze that sent him flying backwards to barrel through the fleeing civilians.
He sure as hell felt it, in any case.
Clawing off one of his gloves, he eagerly wiped at his face, desperate to get his vision back. But, unfortunately, he did so far too late and also in the nick of time.
After crashing into the two women and their fleeing children, the pairs were split apart. The green-haired woman and her child were on his left, closer to the back of the store. To his right and closer to the front was the blonde.
It was the blonde that captured his attention.
Or rather, her child.
Around the boy's hands, tiny sparks danced in his palms. Rumble watched as one of those sparks managed to land atop some of the villain's sludge.
It immediately ignited into a bright blue blaze.
"Kid! Stop!" Rumble bellowed, already moving to try and stop the kid. But, instead, his feet slid on the sludge around him, the black odorous muck coating the floor.
He didn't get enough traction.
He wasn't fast enough.
"No!"
"Katsuki!"
"Mitsuki!"
"Kachan!"
"Take this villain!"
Rumble watched, horrified, as the kid, standing before his mother protectively, let his quirk activate. The tiny firecracker-like explosions came out in a rush, the air catching alight, the bright flames quickly shifting colour as the gaseous odour of the sludge managed to ignite. Then the sludge caught fire, and suddenly the store was alive with fire, heat, and light.
Rumble didn't think or stop; he scooped the woman and the child up and ran for the door.
He made it two steps before he was picked up by a wave of force that threw him bodily through the store's window and out into the parking lot. He hit the ground. First, the civilians clutched to his chest as he rolled, trying to bleed off some of the momentum.
When he stopped, his ears rang, and his vision spun; he could do little more than feel. He felt pain. That's it; his chest ached, his bones ached, his brain felt scrambled, and he was almost sure something was broken.
But Rumble was a HERO!
And a hero didn't quit.
He looked down, his eyes swimming in his head as he tried to focus on the civilians, the woman was holding the child to her chest, and her back was ablaze with flame, some of the goo on her shirt.
Rumble wasted no time in yanking the fabric from her.
Her back was already blistered, but he had no time to think about that as the fabric he pulled free rushed past his face.
His face that had sludge on it.
The pro could do nothing but let out a pained cry as the smeared sludge crackled to life, scoring his flesh in a flash, it ached, and his eye flared with agony in an almost indescribable way. But Rumble couldn't stop.
His clothes were also ignited, but the protective cloth and body armour protected him for the time being.
The shop was ablaze, blue and orange flames devouring it, combing together in places to make a sickly-
Green.
At that moment, Rumble remembered the other civilians, and it felt as if the very strength of his body had been snatched away.
He had left them.
He had abandoned them.
"Dammit!" Rumble roared, rushing forward, the heat of the flames nothing compared to the pain of his failure.
The arm from which he had removed his glove earlier was engulfed in flames, the burning blue fire eating at his flesh painfully.
Rumble, the hero, grit his teeth and revved said arm up. He used it to punch through the door.
Fire rushed to engulf him, but his hero costume protected him from the heat.
He wished he had that visor, but with only one working eye, his hindsight would be the only 20/20 vision he had left to count on.
He remembered that the woman had been nearer to the back of the store, and so even surrounded by burning black sludge and gnawing flames Rumble pushed through the inferno, desperate to save them. He had to.
Through the clotting smoke and acrid air, he had no chance of seeing them, but even with the roar of the flames, Rumble, a true hero, recognised the sound of a child crying for help.
It was soft, weak, and broken, but he heard it, so he stumbled through the clawing flames, ignoring how it felt like his boots were liquifying around his feet.
His arm had stopped hurting.
He knew it was not a good sign, but he powered on.
Then he saw them.
The child was still alight trapped under his unconscious mother, who had noxious blue flames over large portions of her body. The child was mangled, and the mother, having shielded him, was most likely worse.
Rumble shook his head. He couldn't stop.
When he got there, he couldn't speak. He was in too much pain, no oxygen was left, and his breaths burned his lungs, making his throat itch.
But he could smile.
He didn't know what it looked like between his burnt-to-high-hell face and the helmet. He wasn't even sure if the kid saw it. But if it worked for All Might, maybe it would work for him.
He picked the mother up, throwing her over one shoulder.
He ignored her flesh's sound as he pulled it off the floor.
She was heavy.
No.
He was weak. He was running on empty, his body screaming at him that it was near its limits.
When he bent to grab the boy, his helmet rolled off, and he left it.
He couldn't stop.
When he picked up the child, he saw his face. His eyes screamed pain and desperation. Rumble stumbled as he moved to get back up. His legs burned, and his costume no longer protected him from the heat and flames.
He ignored it.
He couldn't stop!
He turned back to the entrance.
He couldn't see it through the fire, so he looked for another exit.
There wasn't one.
He! Couldn't! Stop!
He moved the child to rest atop his mother, the two stacked atop his broad shoulders, he could barely feel his burnt arm now, and the other one was starting to feel the anguish of the flames. But the numb one was already toast. So with a smile that was more a grimace, a lie to hide the fear in his heart, Rumble, a plain local hero, revved up his quirk.
His charred arm spun to life, spinning at blistering speed, faster than he had ever spun it before.
Then he threw a punch at the wall with all his might.
It was busted open, oxygen rushing in, feeding the flames, but Rumble knew that would happen and was already moving. The backdraft threw his weak body, his legs not ready for the sudden rush, but he made sure the civilians landed farther from the chasing flames.
He ached.
It hurt to breathe.
HE COULDN'T STOP!
Rumble crawled forward, the burning sludge clinging to him like paste; he clawed off sections of his costume, revelling in the lightening of his lode and the halting of the burn for even a moment.
He looked to see the two greenettes, their original hair colour undecipherable to his blurry vision, laid out limply, blue flames gnawing at them. He saw how the sludge clung to the woman, keeping the fire on her flesh, and he knew what to do.
He hoped that they could forgive him.
He, a hero, was forced to claw the melted burning sludge-flesh off their bodies.
He must have passed out at some point, his last memory of the woman giving a silent scream as he was forced to pull off a section of skin on her arm.
When he awoke again, it was four days after the event.
His girlfriend was there. She was crying, and his mum and dad were also present and crying.
He had trouble seeing them initially, but the doctor explained that his sight would improve with time.
At least for one of his eyes. The other was gone.
His family left after a bit, the doctor wanting to talk to him privately.
He was a mess.
Aside from his eye, he had lost his ear on the same side and suffered quite a few third-degree burns and a lot of second-degree ones. The worse part was his arm. His right arm was decimated, and the sludge had acted like a foul-smelling napalm, destroying portions of the body it clung to.
They had to amputate it. Just under his elbow, but that could change if his arm didn't recover well enough.
They managed to save his legs. Not all of his toes made it, but he still had feet and the majority of his toes, so that was something.
He also had a cranial fracture.
It turns out his helmet hadn't fallen off. Instead, it had saved him from having his brain impaled; the police had it now as evidence.
He would need to get it back.
He was gonna get that thing framed… also, send the support company a nice bottle of saki.
Like really nice.
Then the hero Rumble asked the doc the question that was really eating at him.
"What happened to everyone else?"
The doc had at first seemed hesitant to answer but had decided that Rumble deserved to know the results of his efforts.
The shop clerk had made out like a bat out of hell after nearly being hosed by the black slime. There was an exit behind the counter in the employee's back room. He had escaped and gone for help, so he was in perfect health.
The villain was dead.
Not just dead but annihilated, obliterated, just gone.
The most they had managed to recover was a part of his femur.
Rumble had nodded at that, he expected nothing else, but it still sucked that he hadn't been able to help the guy.
The blonde family was in excellent health, all things considered. The mum had suffered severe burns to her back and would need to suffer through skin grafts much like himself but was posited to recover fully. Her kid had gotten off even better, with minor, second-degree burns to his left leg and minor fractures.
A cast on his arm and some burn care for his legs, and he would be back up and about in no time.
The doctor paused after that.
Rumble saw he wanted to stop but egged the medical professional on, threatening to get out of bed and find out for himself if he had to.
That put the doctor on his case, but he yielded when Rumble sat up in bed.
It was a good thing he had, as Rumble knew he would have fallen on his face if he tried to stand.
He would have still done it to prove his point, but he was happy he didn't have to.
The greenettes had suffered the worse.
The mother… her state alone hurt Rumble's soul. Terrible burns over entire swaths of her person, and presently being comatose. She had already lost one of her lungs, and the other was in a terrible state. In addition, she was fighting off a terrible infection as if her body wasn't already suffering enough.
Her prognosis was not good, and that was looking past her body's massive trauma. Being in the building, the explosion had thrown her into a wall violently, leaving her with multiple breaks and fractures, a ruptured spleen, and a brain bleed, hence the coma.
But her son… her son had somehow copped it worse.
His injuries seemed to mirror Rumble's own in many ways, the boy having to have one of his eyes removed and his right arm. But from there, it got worse. The flames destroyed the kid's entire right side. He had to lose a pair of ribs, one of his lungs was rendered unusable, and a portion of his gut needed to be amputated and a kidney removed.
His right leg was also amputated.
The fire had nearly destroyed the boy.
He was alive by some miracle and was in immeasurable pain.
Rumble's heart went out to the kid. He already felt like he was still in a meat grinder, and he was pro-hero. He was used to pain.
For that poor kid…
Rumble felt ill.
When the doctor left, Rumble lay in his bed with his hazy eye staring at the place where his arm used to be with a sort of detached absurdness. Even as he looked right at it, it was difficult to grasp, but his arm was just gone, missing, poof… yet still had the audacity to hurt.
When his girlfriend walked back in, Rumble realised he had been crying. When his parents returned and saw him being embraced, tears cascading down his heavily bandaged self, they soon joined him. He realised two things on his hospital bed, surrounded by his loved ones.
One, it was a lot harder to hug without both arms.
Two… the pro hero Rumble was dead.
Kohta Nagumo cried long and hard.
He cried for the death of his dream.
He cried over the loss of his arm.
He cried for his failure to rescue the four civilians completely.
But while he cried, he let a sliver of something else be expressed.
Because even if the pro hero Rumble had to die, he died a hero's death.
And that had to count for something.
A.N.
Hello there, I see you stumbled across this random plot bunny that was eating up my concentration and crapping in my thoughts.
Well, now it's trapped here and should not bother me nearly as much; here's hoping.
This opening might not give much away, so I figured I would write here that this would be a tech Izuku fic following handicapped Izuku that is pushed down a road of robotics and engineering to right the damage to his body.
The twist or theme might be the better descriptor is that over time and due to specific influences, Izuku would become a more jaded and cynical person, eventually developing a dislike of quirks that, given time, only worsens as he experiences more of 'Quirked Society'.
Instead, our boy is going to look to the stars.
Humanity had to sacrifice such endeavours when quirks showed up. I don't know if I will go the World War Three route or just planetary social upheaval. But Izuku, with his new distaste for Quirks, sees retaking space as a way to strike a blow against what he sees as a theft perpetrated on humanity by Quirks themselves.
Ultimately, this would end up being a more morally grey Izuku. However, he still wants to do good and tries to do so by trying to reclaim what Quirks stole by ushering in a new age for all by reuniting humanity with the stars.
But he also isn't doing it to be a 'Hero'; his drive is very personal and could be considered selfish or even driven by ego. Instead, it's his way of lashing out and striking back, and he is free to step on people's toes as needed.
He isn't going to commit acts of villainy outright unless driven to or backed into a corner.
Also… might make it a romance fic or give it hints of romance. I haven't done that yet; it might be fun.
Hell, I'll give him multiple partners! FULL HAREM ROUTE! FOR SCIENCE!
Hehe.
In truth, I have no such plans or even a comprehensible plot line, this was just a rough idea I needed out of my head to focus on other projects, but now it's here and can suffer some examination.
So here you all are.
Have a peek at what could be.