Chapter Text
All men are not created equal.
Midoriya Izuku was four years old when he learned that some kids had more powers than others. Midoriya Izuku was born quirkless and would stay quirkless for the rest of his life. Despite the objective fact, he was not ready to give up on his dreams of becoming a hero.
“Oh yeah, Midoriya… Don’t you want to go to U.A. too?” The sudden call of his name had snapped him out of his thoughts as the whole class erupted into a fit of laughter, all pointing at him.
“Midoriya? You’re kidding, right? There’s no way of getting into the Hero Course without a Quirk,” A classmate snickered.
“Well, actually, they got rid of that rule. I could be the first one…” Izuku defended.
“Listen up, Deku,” His ex-childhood friend Bakugou Katsuku yelled out, “You’re even worse than these damned rejects, you quirkless wannabe! You really think they’d let someone like you in when they could have me?”
“No way! You've got it all wrong. Really! I'm not trying to compete against you. You gotta believe me! It's just that… I've wanted to be a hero since I was little. I may not have a quirk… but I can still try my hardest, can I?” He said, more trying to convince himself than his classmates.
His classmates countered him in every way possible, and he slumped at their words. It didn’t matter. He was used to others looking down at him, but he had to believe in himself.
✵✵✵✵
“You know, if you really want to be a hero that badly, there might be another way… Just pray that you’re born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.”
✵✵✵✵
“So, can you be a hero? Not without a Quirk.”
“If you wanna help people, there are plenty of other ways to do it. You could become
a police officer. They get crap because the heroes capture most of the villains. But it's a fine profession. It's not bad to have a dream, young man. Just- just make sure your
dreams are attainable. Realistic. Understand?”
✵✵✵✵
Izuku had dealt with disappointment his entire life. Whether it was from being quirkless or being told he could never be a hero, he’d known the pain of rejection.
When All Might told him to find a realistic dream, Izuku never took it personally. He never grew resentful toward the hero. Instead, he took the words All Might had told him and used them to fuel a new dream for himself.
If he couldn’t be a hero in his current condition, he’d find a way to make himself equal to those who had a quirk. He didn’t need to wish, no, wishing was for those who didn’t do.
He taught himself mechanical trades and basic programming to begin. Little by little his talents grew, and it was time to enter high school. He wouldn’t apply to the Support Course. He wouldn’t go to U.A..
He knew that if he got in, their focus would be on making items for heroes, not being heroes themselves. He went to a regular high school where he put his energy into creating and innovating. Halfway into his first year, he finally made usable gear.
A hoverboard that connected to a set of magnetic shoes allowed him to maneuver swiftly and quickly. He also created a pair of cuffs and support packs that applied sound waves. He made use of multiple frequencies that could debilitate his opponents.
He had made something that actually worked. He felt a sense of pride as he slipped into the gear and tested it out in the abandoned factory he’d been working on. He felt he could finally do something. That he was finally worth something.
Then in the blink of an eye, the war started. He felt lucky that he completed his gear before. He knew, of course, that he was no pro and had no intention of going out there and fighting, he didn’t want to get in the way of the pros, but he knew that the gear could keep his mom and him safe given the chance.
Until it didn’t. Until he was too busy in his abandoned warehouse-turned-lab, tweaking and fixing his gear, when the creature Gigantomachia rampaged through his neighborhood. His body froze when he heard the large thumps of the creature's footsteps. By the time he’d looked outside the warehouse, the area where his house once stood was gone. The wood that once made the foundation of his house had been reduced to wood chips. When he finally ran to the scene, the sound of screams filled the area, but not a single one was from one of the victims- it was from those who found them. Not a single person who’d been there when the creature passed by survived.
Izuku dug through the rubble hysterically in hopes of finding his mother. All logic gone, he searched for hours. When he finally found her, she was nothing more than a pile of viscera. Bones and rotting flesh that once belonged to the woman who birthed him. The woman who’d loved him and supported him in everything.
He screamed in agony, fat tears streaming down his face. There was nothing left for him to hold, nothing left for him to kiss, and nothing left to mourn. His screams echoed through the destroyed town where the darkness had already crept in.
Not a single hero was found in the area. Later, he found that they stayed where the highest population was.
In one day, he lost everything. He lost the one person who loved him. He lost his dream. He lost himself.
All that remained was the gear he was still wearing. What little it meant to him now that he felt he had nothing left to protect.
His grief turned into resentment. Not towards every hero, but the ones who quit when things got hard. The heroes who posed and interviewed whilst the world around them was falling apart.
There were no heroes and the ones that were were in short supply.
Izuku damned doing the ‘right thing.’ He didn’t care if he didn’t have a hero's license or what that would make him to the public. Damn all of it.
If the heroes refused to try to fix the world, then maybe he didn’t want to be a hero.
He needed to be something outside of the system. Someone who answered to no one other than justice and the good of the people.
✵✵✵✵
Across the city was a man who held no respect for the average hero. He was named the Hero Killer before the war started.
When the war began, however, he took it as an opportunity to watch and observe. The heroes would reveal their true intentions under the pressure and severity.
He laughed and mocked as more heroes retired. He had warned against false idols and the so-called ‘public servants.’
Amongst his observations, a young boy took his interest. He’d find him at nearly every location where crime was happening. He seemed to be fighting with just his gear. He couldn’t quite make out the quirk the boy had through all his analysis until he realized one day the boy probably didn’t have one.
Curious.
A quirkless boy had the guts that thousands of heroes wish they’d had. Stain thought to himself that the boy had the spirit of a true hero until he saw the boy attack ruthlessly.
He wouldn’t pull punches. He wouldn’t hold back. He’d cry out in fury with spit flying out his mouth and eyes that promised death. Though the boy never went as far as to actually kill someone, his ferality drew Stain in.
After days of observing, he finally found the boy. He’d been heavily panting by the body of a looter that he had knocked out. He’d fallen to his knees and wailed, reminding Stain that this boy was indeed a child.
He knew not how to comfort him or why he even felt compelled to do so. He thought not of how this boy could help him but how much the boy must have truly suffered. He saw himself in the boy.
“The word hero has lost all meaning in this society,” He spoke up, startling the boy below him.
“W-what?” Izuku responded in a confused tone as he wiped the tears off his face. Stain carefully leapt off the platform to stand with him.
“They called themselves heroes, but they cowered at the sign of real danger, yet a child stepped up in their place.” Stain knew that this kid had no one to go home to. He had no one left.
“I’m not a child,” Izuku defended angrily.
“It is not an insult but a fact. You are a child, and yet you show the fire that heroes in their old age have not shown in the entirety of their lives. What is your name?”
“Midoriya Izuku,” He said a bit too quickly, and honestly, telling Stain the boy was still incredibly naive.
“Well, Midoriya-kun. It looks like you need a place to sleep,” He offered.
“And why would I trust you?” Izuku said cautiously.
“Because I’ve been watching you. You have no one else to turn to,” Stain spoke softly, truly hoping the child would trust him.
“Why now? If you’ve been watching me, what changed?” Izuku asked curiously, crossing his arms.
“You looked like you needed saving.”
And for the first time in his entire life, someone looked at him like he was something more than a villain.