Chapter Text
The scars, a mystery etched into his skin, had been there for as long as he could remember. The linear scars were well-healed, slightly raised, and lighter in colour than the surrounding skin, inviting a curious gaze. He was always told they were from surgery when he was born due to a defect that had to be fixed, though he never knew what that defect was. Whenever he brought it up to his mother, she made an excuse or changed the subject.
At five, he was the only one in his class without a quirk. This was misery; regularly, he came home with blistered skin, his body still bleeding as it didn’t have the energy to keep up with the repeated thrashing from people he thought were his friends. But like everything, it could always be worse. His dad was rarely home, and when he was, Izuku could hear his mother's screams as he hid for his life.
At five, it all got worse when he went to the doctor, a friend of his dad's.
"You're quirkless." The words ran through his head, the sting feeling like he had just jumped off a seven-story building. That night, his blood stained the hardwood in the living room.
It never got better like people said it would. At the age of twelve, he was already debating ending it all. It wasn’t uncommon for quirkless people to end their lives before the age of twenty-five—it was more common than people would like to admit. And there he was, walking down an alley, debating if he would kill himself tonight. He got bullied by the people he thought were friends, his mom hit him and cut his nails until they bled, and his dad was arrested for conspiring with the greatest villain in Japan’s history. His teachers blamed him for everything, even if he wasn’t in the room where it happened. He didn’t know when it happened, but he couldn't breathe; green goop wrapped around him.
“Bummer this meat is quirkless. Just die quickly so you can be a good vessel until I can find something better,” the goop said as it covered his mouth. Izuku’s lungs burned, and it was as if the very air had been replaced with a dense, icy liquid, filling his chest with stinging, relentless pressure. His throat constricted painfully. The sound of his heartbeat grew louder in the rush of drowning silence.
“Don’t worry, I'm just hijacking your body. It'll only hurt for about 45 seconds… then it'll be all over.” He saw dots; he kept fighting the urge to close his eyes; why was he trying to survive? Didn’t he want to kill himself? Maybe he was wrong. He thought to himself as his eyes closed.
The sound of agonizing coughs filled the air around him. He could feel a light stinging on his cheek as he sat up. He could see. ALL MIGHT?!?!?
“OH MY GOSH, ALL MIGHT! Am I dead?” he said, scrambling to grab his notebook. He opened it to a random page and saw that it had already been signed. He thought to himself as he saw All Might ready to leave with the sludge monster in a bottle.
“Wait, All Might, can I ask you a question?” he said, still panting, green goo coming out of his lungs.
“Well, of course! What is it, boy?” All Might said to the small, frail boy.
“Can someone who's quirkless become a hero?” His voice was still raspy; he never talked much anyway, so this was overworking his vocal cords.
“No, it's too dangerous for a quirkless person to become a hero; they would put themselves and others in danger.” All Might said before leaving, and Midoriya was shocked. He wanted to keep the conversation going but decided against it; his body was too flooded with shock to move anyway.
Izuku stood frozen for a moment, the weight of All Might's words crashing over him like a relentless tide. The hero's figure, larger than life, vanished into the distance with the captured villain in tow. The alleyway seemed to stretch endlessly before him, a narrow corridor of shadows that seemed to echo with the loss of hope.
His breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest still aching from the last remnants of the goop. He stumbled forward, each step heavy and deliberate, as if the very ground beneath him was conspiring to keep him rooted in place. The towering residential building loomed ahead, its dark windows reflecting the dim streetlights like silent, unfeeling eyes.
As he approached the building, he cast a wary glance around, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. The scars on his skin felt like they were pulsing with every heartbeat, a cruel reminder of the inadequacies he couldn't escape. The bustling noise of the city seemed distant and surreal, a world he was no longer sure he belonged to.
He reached the entrance of the building, its lobby decorated with gaudy, outdated furnishings that seemed to mock his despair. Izuku's hands trembled as he fumbled with the door, finally pushing it open with a creak that seemed to echo in the emptiness. The lobby was deserted, save for a few scattered mailboxes and a flickering light overhead.
He glanced around, trying to collect himself. His thoughts were fragmented, like shards of glass strewn across a floor. He couldn't remember why he was here, only that he needed to be somewhere—anywhere—other than that alleyway where his life had nearly ended.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Izuku stepped inside, pressing the button for the highest floor. As the elevator ascended, the view through the glass walls showed the city sprawling out beneath him, a sea of lights and shadows that seemed to taunt him with its vastness.
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened with a soft whoosh. Izuku stepped out into a dimly lit hallway and took the stairs the rest of the way up. He passed a door with familiar numbers. He could feel the pain behind it and kept moving. Soon, he could feel the cold air on his skin; six stories up, he could see most of Musutafu as the city lit up and the sun hid over the horizon. As he stepped closer to the edge, taking off his shoes and jacket, he could feel his heart pound. The scars on his back ached and stung as he looked down. The empty alley looked inviting. As he took a step closer, he heard a voice yell at him from a few buildings away. “Don’t do it, kid!” a man wearing all black with a grey scarf said, jumping across buildings to get to the green-haired boy.
Was he really going to go back to the endless cycle? The neglect from his mom? The burns he got at school? The limp he got during the break between classes? No, no he wasn’t. As the man got closer, he walked off the edge. The fall was quick. As he panicked in the air, he could feel his backache, and it felt like something had flown out of him. As he fell, he hit the fire escape; the skin from his face flew off, removing his freckles and showing the thin muscle underneath. His arm hit the next level, making a snap! Soon, a loud thud was the last thing he heard. Before he lost consciousness, he could see his arm only held on by the smallest amount of skin. He could feel his head throb, and as his eyes closed, he could see... a pile of white and green feathers.
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