Chapter Text
“Do you think I can be a hero, too?”
When Izuku, all of four years old and just skimming a hundred centimetres, asked that question, he’d only been expecting one of two answers.
Either Mom would tell him, “Yes, all you need to do is work hard and believe in yourself,” or, more likely, “No, I’m sorry, Izuku, I wish things were different.”
Except...neither of those things happened. Instead, Mom watched him from the doorway to Dad’s office for a few heartbeats, her face hidden in the shadows. The only source of light was the computer screen, paused on All Might’s triumphant smile from his debut all those years ago, before Izuku was even born.
Then, Mom crossed the room in three short strides, crouching in front of his chair until they were at eye level. “Before I answer that, let me show you something,” she said, offering her hand.
She ended up taking him to the small grocery store near their apartment complex. Izuku clutched his favourite All Might action figure, Small Might, against his chest with one hand while gripping the hem of Mom’s skirt with the other. He hated coming to this store—the owner, Takahashi-san, was always loud and mean, especially to Mom.
(Mom said it was ‘cause he thought Dad didn’t love her anymore, but that wasn’t true at all! Sure, he had to work abroad a lot, which was why none of their neighbours had met him yet, but if he really didn’t love them, he wouldn’t have sent Izuku Small Might just last week or call to say ‘hi’ every day, no matter how late it was for him!)
“Naka-san,” Takahashi-san grunted from behind the counter, stressing the ‘na’ in Mom’s parents’ last name the same way one might drive a nail into wood.
“It’s still ‘Midoriya’, I’m afraid,” said Mom, her bubbly tone accompanied by a syrupy smile.
Takahashi-san sneered, but said nothing else as they went down the narrow aisles. It took them about ten minutes to find everything they needed for dinner that week. Afterwards, Mom led them to the counter, with Izuku hiding behind her leg all the while.
As Takahashi-san scanned their items and Mom pulled her wallet out, Izuku peered longingly up at the collection of expensive All Might chocolate bars sitting by the register. He’d seen Takahashi-san give some to Kacchan and the other neighbourhood kids after they got their quirks, but he always sneered whenever he caught Izuku giving him a hopeful look.
And now I’m definitely never getting one, Izuku thought, dropping his head as invisible chains tightened around his tiny chest.
There was a clatter above him, followed by Mom gasping, “Oh my, I’m so sorry!”
Izuku looked up to find Mom bowing her head as Takahashi-san cursed and scrambled to pick up all the lighter fluids knocked over from their display. “You clumsy bi—”
“Here, for all the trouble I’ve caused,” said Mom, loudly, slapping an extra thousand yen on the counter.
The next thing Izuku knew, he was being gently pushed out of the store, leaving Takahashi-san and his cursing behind.
Mom didn’t stop walking until they reached the park a few blocks away, but Izuku couldn’t complain—he was just glad they were out of there. “Sorry about that, sweetie, but you should probably stay away from Takahashi-san’s for a while,” Mom told him with a grin. “Anyway, I have something to show you.”
Izuku perked up, tightening his grip on Small Might. “What? What is it?”
Mom set their groceries down and rooted through her purse before revealing three All Might chocolate bars in her hand. “Whoa!” Izuku couldn’t help gasping. “But-But how?” He didn’t remember seeing Mom grab them.
Mom knelt down and unwrapped one for him. “This,” she said, winking as she handed the bar to him, “is what’s called a ‘misdirection’ in the family business.” Izuku didn’t know what that word meant, but he nodded as he happily chewed on his chocolate bar, All Might’s half-eaten face beaming up at him. “Izuku,” Mom continued, her voice tinged with mischief. “How would you like to learn how to be a thief?”
And to think, Izuku—now fourteen years old and just a little over a hundred and fifty centimetres tall—sighs as Honda-sensei tosses the career aptitude tests into the air to his classmates’ cheers, today was going so well.
“Hey, Teach, don’t lump me in with this bunch of losers.”
Izuku’s heart, against his will, beats just a little faster at Kacchan’s voice. He’s careful to keep his head down as he steals a look. Kacchan has his arms crossed behind his head and feet propped up on his desk as he leans back far enough that only the rear legs of his chair are still on the floor. But he’s done this thousands of times since elementary school and never once fallen. His lips crook into a smirk, a king observing his court.
How on Earth is it fair that Kacchan can be this hot despite having a complete and utter dumpster fire of a personality? Izuku bemoans, slumping further into his seat.
“I’m the real deal,” Kacchan drawls, “but these guys would be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-listers.”
“You think you’re better than us, Katsuki?”
He might be bragging, but he’s not wrong, thinks Izuku. He knows the stats better than anyone; usually, only one out of every three hundred students who apply to UA’s hero course will get in, but less than half of them will actually graduate. While UA guards its curriculum with the jealousy of a dragon atop its treasure hoard, Izuku knows from years of watching the annual Sports Festival and frequenting every hero forum his browser can access that the school is brutal.
But Kacchan is just as brutal.
“Oh yeah,” says Honda-sensei, interrupting the pandemonium. “Midoriya, didn’t you want to go to UA, too?”
Izuku buries his head in his arms as the class falls silent, the kind of quiet he’s more used to in a Parker 2000 vault than homeroom. Peeking through a gap in his arms, he catches Kacchan’s shoulders stiffening.
Fuck my life.
So, getting roasted by Kacchan in front of their entire class was rough, but nothing Izuku hasn’t endured before. The rest of the day wasn’t actually that bad. Mom packed him a lunch bento with his favourite onigiri, and he even managed to beat Moriyama’s time running laps in PE.
Really, Izuku thinks as he packs the rest of his notebooks into his bag, it could’ve been worse.
Then a familiar hand yanks his hero analysis book out of his bag and Izuku’s stomach drops.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Deku, but we’re not done,” Kacchan growls, blood red eyes burning.
Kinomiya, otherwise known as Goon One in Izuku’s head, struts up behind Kacchan with a sneer. “Huh? Don’t tell me you’re taking notes on how to be a hero? That’s so pathetic!”
“He’s delusional,” adds Watanabe, aka Goon Two.
I’ve seen both your test scores and you’re calling me delusional? Izuku stomps down on the fury rising in his gut. Instead, he forces himself to laugh. “Uh, really funny, guys. Um, just give it back.” He reaches for the notebook.
Kacchan claps both hands over the notebook in a move Izuku is intimately familiar with just before the familiar ‘boom!’ of a mini explosion follows.
Honestly, Izuku doesn’t know why he didn’t see this coming.
“Kacchan, that’s so mean!” he yells, mostly because it’s true, but also because he knows that nickname still annoys the hell out of him, and he’s not above being petty.
Kacchan’s eyebrow twitches, just as Izuku predicted, but what he does not expect is for Kacchan to toss his notebook out the window.
“Most first-string heroes show potential early on,” Kacchan scoffs. “People look at them and know they’re just destined for greatness. When I’m the only student from this garbage junior high to get into UA, people will start talking about me like that. They’ll realize I’m legit—the next big thing. That’s not ego talking, I just know I’m good.”
“Egooo,” Goon Two sighs, and Izuku has to agree.
He jumps when Kacchan drops his hand on his shoulder, smoke wafting from his palm. It’s bigger than Izuku’s own hands, a solid weight he’d daydreamed about more than a few times in the last ten years, but not like this.
Kacchan leans down until they’re at eye level, a wide, predatory grin on his face. “Here’s a little advice, nerd: don’t even think of applying, or else.”
Kacchan lets go and shoulders past Izuku towards the door with his goons at his heels. Izuku drops his gaze to the floor and clenches his fists against his sides.
“That’s just sad,” Goon Two snickers. “I thought you would at least have some fight in you.”
Goon One chimes in, “He finally gets it—he’ll never be a hero. Better to find out now instead of later, I guess.”
“Haha, very original,” Izuku mutters, still glaring at the floor. He lets their taunts wash over him like water. After all, it’s not the first time he’s heard this kind of thing before.
But it’s Kacchan who makes him flinch, voice sugary sweet yet as dangerous as snake venom. “You know, if you really want to be a hero that badly, there might actually be another way. Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.”
Izuku’s nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t turn around.
He waits until Kacchan and his goons’ voices have faded away before he raises his hand, opening his fist to find Kacchan’s keys in his palm. Kacchan will probably get an earful from Auntie Mitsuki when he gets home tonight.
Izuku drops the keys into his bag, making a mental note to slip them into Kacchan’s locker tomorrow morning. Sure, it’ll piss him off to realize that he’d just ‘misplaced’ his keys, but Izuku can’t help thinking it’s what he deserves.
That idiot can’t just go around telling people to kill themselves. What if I really jumped? What would he do then? Stupid jerk.
He normally doesn’t steal from his classmates, let alone Kacchan, but he’s tired, frustrated, and more than a little annoyed with all of them right now. Sometimes, as Mom often tells him with a fond, nostalgic smile, self-care is pickpocketing the boy you like and calling it a day.
Izuku stops by the koi pond to rescue his notebook from becoming fish food before continuing towards the underpass, already focusing on recalling as much of the hero fight from earlier that morning for his notes.
He almost misses the metallic groan of a manhole cover sliding open. Almost, because it’s a distinct sound he’s gotten used to hearing over the years, thanks to his parents' business.
He whips around in time to come face to face with a gross mound of slime rising from the manhole. At first, his brain revs up at a mile a minute, wondering if what he’s seeing might just be a quirk experiment or manifestation gone wrong, but one glance at the pair of jaundice yellow eyes leering at him strikes that assumption right out.
“You’ll make a perfect skinsuit for me to hide in, kid,” the villain croons, voice echoing in the underpass.
Ew, ew, ew! “Um, I’ll pass, thanks,” Izuku blurts out.
The villain is fast when he strikes, but Izuku is faster. He rolls and jumps out of the way, always just a step too far for the villain’s tentacles—yeah, apparently that’s a thing—to reach. Izuku eyes both ends of the underpass—running straight towards either exit isn’t an option. The villain would catch him in an instant from speed alone.
“Just stay still, you little brat!” the villain shrieks, making another unsuccessful swipe at Izuku.
As Izuku prepares to roll out of the way again, he hears it—the sound of something heavy and enormous slamming into metal. He turns his head towards the source of the noise—this time, a man is coming out of the manhole. A very tall, muscular, and familiar man.
“Have no fear, you are safe...” the man’s voice booms, almost deafening in the tunnel.
“Aw crap,” says the villain.
Holy shit. Izuku’s jaw drops.
“...Now that I am here, that is!”
...Okay, maybe leaping onto All Might’s leg as he took off into the air isn’t the smartest thing that Izuku’s ever done, but, if interrogated about this later, he’s ready to blame it on the adrenaline.
“Let go! I love my fans, but this is too much!” All Might yells.
“But if I let go, I’ll die!” Izuku shouts back. Well, a normal person who doesn’t have some sort of flight quirk might die, but Izuku has rope and a grappling hook hidden in a false compartment in his backpack. Surely this can’t be that much harder than bungee jumping from skyscrapers?
“...Oh, right,” says All Might in a sheepish tone. For the number one hero in Japan, it’s a surprisingly endearing thing to witness.
Later, they land on the roof of a nondescript commercial building.
“Not a very smart move,” All Might scolds once Izuku lets go of him, allowing him to make his way to the edge of the roof. “Bang on the door for a while, someone will let you in. Now I really have to go. See you on the flip side—”
“Wait!” Izuku shouts. “I-I wanted to ask you a question!” All Might stops and Izuku exhales in relief before straightening his spine on the inhale. This is it—the chance he’s been waiting on for years, his only chance. He has to make it count.
“Is it possible to become a hero even if I don’t have a quirk? I’m a nor—” No, you’re not normal, because normal kids wouldn’t know how to break into state of the art security vaults like you do. “Er, I may not have any powers, but could I ever hope to become someone like you?” Izuku closes his eyes as he recites the speech he’s prepared in his head for years. About how he knows everyone around him doesn’t think he stands a chance, that not having any quirks makes him some sort of weakling in society’s eyes.
(Nevermind that he’s been doing gymnastics for ten years and regularly scales skyscrapers like they’re his personal jungle gym with nothing but a harness, rope, and his reflexes.)
But that just makes him want to prove them all wrong. Sure, what he and his family does isn’t legal, and nowhere near as honourable as saving people, but they’re still helping people. Isn’t that enough?
“All I want...” Izuku goes on, “...is for people to see my fearless smile and feel safe. I want to be the kind of hero everyone in the world looks up to—just like you.”
There’s a ‘pop!’ like a firecracker going off and Izuku opens his eyes.
Then he jumps back with a yelp, because All Might is gone and a skeletal blond man is scowling at him instead.
(Across town, Katsuki curses as he searches his pockets and bag, ignoring the two extras’ idiotic babbling. He could’ve sworn his keys were in his pocket when he got out of school.
Fuck, the hag’s gonna be pissed, he thinks, kicking a nearby soda bottle hard enough to hit the street lamp at the other end of the alley.)
“...pro heroes are always having to risk their lives. Some villains just can’t be beaten without powers,” continues All Might, with absolutely no regard for the way he just decimated Izuku’s reality.
Apparently, Izuku’s been dead wrong about everything he thought he knew about his favourite hero all along. Go figure.
“So no, I honestly don’t think you can become a hero without a quirk,” All Might tells him—no ifs or buts about it.
Something within Izuku shatters, leaving behind glass shards that plummet to the pit of his stomach. “...I see,” he says, dropping his head.
He hears All Might say something about becoming a police officer—which, hah!—but it’s drowned out by a flurry of other voices. Kacchan, his classmates, the quirk doctor Mom took him to see when he was four.
He stays on the roof, even long after All Might’s footsteps have faded out of earshot.
That’s it, then, he thinks, still not quite believing what his idol just told him. It doesn’t matter that Izuku’s one of the top students of his school, that he and his parents have helped countless number of people who have fallen through the cracks of the legal system, or that he’s outrun the police dozens of times. Apparently, none of that makes a difference if he doesn’t have a quirk.
An all too familiar explosion echoes in the distance, and he lifts his head. Smoke curls in the sky from the direction of the Tatooin shopping district. Don’t do it, Izuku tells himself. You heard what All Might said.
He pushes himself up to his feet. Don’t do it.
Another explosion goes off, louder and more desperate—a cry for help.
Izuku is running before his brain has caught up to his legs, hands already pulling his backpack from his shoulders and grasping for his equipment. The next thing he knows, he’s soaring through the air and ziplining from roof to roof.
A few heroes are already there when he alights on the roof of a clothing store just within the police barrier. He winds his rope and hook over his shoulder as he stalks to the edge, keeping his body close to the ground.
When he peers over the railing, he has to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out.
There, in the centre of the destruction, is Kacchan. And he’s trapped in the sludge villain Izuku encountered earlier.
He must’ve escaped when I grabbed onto All Might! Izuku bites his lip, chest burning with guilt.
Despite the dozens of cops and pros just standing around doing nothing, Kacchan is still struggling, refusing to give up. No matter how many explosions he’s firing, they seem to have as much of an effect on the villain as a tickle.
Izuku’s hands shake. It’s all his fault that Kacchan’s even in this situation right now.
Kacchan, the boy who’s been calling him a nerd and useless Deku for as long as they’ve known each other.
Kacchan, who, just earlier today, burned Izuku’s personal hero analysis notebook and told him to jump off their school roof.
Kacchan, who Izuku has been chasing after for as long as he can remember.
Then Kacchan looks up, blood red eyes locking onto Izuku’s. It’s just for a second, maybe even a hallucination, but it’s enough. Kacchan is screaming for help, the same way the other children at the park used to do whenever Kacchan and his goons decided there were too many kids encroaching on ‘their’ territory. And now, just like back then, Izuku is helpless to this cry for help. Maybe more so because it’s Kacchan.
With the ease of years of practice, Izuku starts twirling his rope, gaze trained on the sludge villain. Wait for it—now! He lets the hook fly and watches it hit its mark, piercing the sludge villain’s eye. The villain rears up with a scream, finally loosening his grip on Kacchan to give him enough room to breathe.
“Kacchan!” Izuku pulls the hook back before tossing it again, this time towards the opposite building. As soon as it’s anchored, he sails down the roof, one hand twined around the rope and the other reaching out for Kacchan. “Take my hand!”
“Deku?” Kacchan screams, voice hoarse. “What the hell?” Still, he manages to free one of his hands and hold it out towards Izuku. Izuku takes it and pulls.
The momentum of his swing, along with the villain writhing in pain, is just enough to pull Kacchan out of the villain’s grasp. Izuku lets go of the rope, and they tumble across the pavement. They’re both covered in scrapes, bruises, and—in Kacchan’s case—burns, but they’re both free and alive, and that’s all Izuku cares about.
Kacchan pushes himself up with a groan and glares at Izuku. Frantic shouts rise from the crowd behind them, but it’s white noise in Izuku’s ears. “What the hell are you doing here?” Kacchan demands, as if Izuku hadn’t just saved his ass.
“I don’t know!” Izuku shouts. He hauls himself to his feet, ignoring the way his muscles are screaming at him after such a fall. It wasn’t high enough to break anything, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “My legs—they just started moving! I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die!”
Then, there’s a shift in the wind, the kind signalling an impending storm on the horizon. All Might’s voice drifts into Izuku’s ears. “I really am pathetic.”
Izuku freezes and turns around. All Might, in all his glory, is striding up to where the villain is still screaming in pain on the ground. “All Might? But—”
“I told you the traits that make a great champion, but I see now I wasn’t living up to my own ideals,” says All Might. His tone is firm and level, as if it’s just the two of them. “Pros are always risking their lives—that’s the true test of a hero.” He pulls his right fist back, bright blue eyes gleaming even through the smoke.
Izuku knows what’s coming even before the iconic “Detroit Smash!” leaves All Might’s mouth.
The aftermath of the fight flies by in comparison to the fight itself—or at least that’s what it feels like to Izuku. The heroes descend on him and Kacchan as the press flock to All Might, cameras flashing hungrily. The heroes are all concerned frowns and soft, worried voices at first, until they discover that Izuku’s quirkless. Then, whether by design or accident, they separate him and Kacchan.
While a few heroes and policemen praise Kacchan for “having such a powerful quirk,” Death Arms and Kamui Woods spend a good five minutes tearing into Izuku on his “reckless interference.” Luckily, no one seems to suspect the rope he used actually belonged to him, quick to assume he just happened to stumble upon some extra construction materials lying around (nevermind that he essentially ziplined down a building with a passenger and without any kind of protective gear whatsoever). Izuku nods and bows on cue to the heroes’ scolding, but his brain is far more focused on how he’s going to replace his gear later.
Later, after getting looked at by the EMT and told he’s fine, Izuku books it out of the shopping district without a backward glance.
He’s within three blocks of his apartment complex when he hears a familiar growl, “Deku!”
He stops, turns around, and blinks. “Kacchan?”
Well, this is new. Izuku doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kacchan run towards him before. Not since they were very small.
Kacchan comes to a halt, hunching over with his hands on his knees for support as he catches his breath. He raises his head, trademark glare blazing on his face. “Listen,” he barks, “I would never ask for a weakling like you to help me! Don’t think you can look down on me, got that? I was fine by myself—you’re just a quirkless failure who wouldn’t even cut it as a rent-a-cop!”
Izuku flinches. It’s not the first time Kacchan’s flung these barbs at him—it’s not even the first time today he said something along these lines, but his words still leave deep cuts behind.
“You didn’t help me!” continues Kacchan. “You did nothing—don’t forget it! I don’t owe you anything!” With that, he pivots away with a huff and stomps back the way he came.
If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead right now, thinks Izuku, the heat of vindication beginning to curl in his gut. But, just as quickly as it came, it’s snuffed out by guilt. Kacchan may be an asshole, but he doesn’t deserve that kind of fate. Izuku shudders, recalling his desperate, muffled cries as the sludge villain suffocated him.
He lets out a deep sigh and turns back towards home. Well, at least I tried. Guess now I should get back to giving up on my dreams.
“I am here!”
Izuku stumbles as a blur of gold, white, and green blocks his path. “All Might? Why are you here? How’d you get rid of all those reporters?”
All Might chuckles, “Well, my boy, you see—”
It doesn’t matter that Izuku’s already seen All Might cough up blood as he deflates into his ‘non-hero’ form, it’s still just as disturbing now as it was the first time.
Eventually, All Might’s coughing eases up. “Anyway, young man, I came here to thank you and also to discuss your questions from earlier.”
Huh? Izuku would’ve thought that All Might had dismissed their earlier conversation as soon as they’d parted ways.
“If you hadn’t told me about your life,” continues All Might, “if you hadn’t run into that fight, I would’ve been a worthless bystander watching from the crowd. So, thanks.”
“Oh.” Izuku...doesn’t know what to do with this one-eighty. “I mean—no! It was my fault he was there to begin with! I got in the way of your work and wasted your energy, not to mention your time.”
All Might holds a hand up and shakes his head. “I’m not done. You told me you didn’t have a power, so when I saw this timid, quirkless boy try to save a life, it inspired me to act, too.
“There are stories about every hero, how they became great. Most have one thing in common—their bodies moved before they had a chance to think, almost on their own. And today, that’s what happened to you.” All Might smiles. The sun’s hanging just above the horizon behind him, casting a halo around his head. “Young man, you too can become a hero.”
Izuku hears the words, but they don’t register. Does All Might really mean that? I really can be a hero?
For a second, the thought fills Izuku with warmth. It’s the validation he’s been waiting to hear for years—
How would you like to learn how to be a thief?
No, Izuku realizes, that’s not quite right. He already has all the validation he’s been craving all along—has had it for the last ten years. And today proved it, too.
It doesn’t matter what Kacchan, the heroes, or media think—Izuku saved him. Him—not the heroes or police—him. And he didn’t need any special powers to do so, just his own skills honed through years of training from Midoriya Inko herself.
“I deem you worthy of my power,” All Might is saying—wait, what? “My quirk is yours to inherit.”
Around them, cherry blossoms flutter in the breeze. A bird chirps in the distance. Izuku pinches himself just for good measure—yeah, that’s definitely going to bruise.
“Um,” Izuku gulps, dread and excitement churning in his gut as he realizes what he’s about to say to his personal idol and most famous man in the world. “T-Thanks, but no thanks.”
Izuku grasps the knob, inhales, and pushes the door open. The lights are on and the smell of fish fills the air of the cozy apartment. Picture frames featuring the same three-member family cover the buttercup yellow walls. Izuku exhales and straightens his shoulders as he shuts the door behind him. “I’m home!”
A green-haired blur lunges at him before he can even blink, and it’s only because of the door that he doesn’t trip and crack his skull on the genkan from the force of her embrace. “Izuku!” Mom, whose head only comes up to his shoulders now, sobs. Her green eyes shine with tears. “Are you okay, sweetie? I saw the news and—”
Izuku squeezes out of her octopus grip, and offers what he hopes is a placating and totally not a ‘holy shit, I still can’t believe I survived that’ smile. “I’m okay—the EMT already said I was fine.”
“You’re not lying?” Mom steps back, giving him a shrewd look. The tears have stopped, at least. She crosses her arms and narrows her gaze at him, pinning him where he stands.
It’s a ridiculous sight—his mother, a plump woman in her early forties, trying to stare him down while clad in a fuzzy pink sweater.
...Unfortunately, if there’s a way to stand up to it, Izuku has yet to figure it out. “I’m not, I promise,” he tells her, holding his hands up.
Mom furrows her brow, but seems to believe him. “Alright, but what about Katsuki? Is he alright? What happened anyway?”
Izuku explains everything over dinner—well, maybe not everything; he leaves out the part where Kacchan told him to jump off the school roof—more for Kacchan’s sake than his own, to be honest—and the part about All Might’s power being on a time limit now.
It probably says a lot about Izuku’s childhood that his mother doesn’t hesitate to use her quirk to summon a bottle of wine once he finishes his story. And they’re still in the middle of dinner.
“Those heroes, honestly,” Mom huffs, pouring herself a generous glass. “Calling themselves that when an amateur villain who didn’t even have an exit strategy was able to get the best of them.”
Her and Dad’s...less than charitable opinion of pro heroes isn’t a secret to Izuku, and this would normally be the time he’d come to their defense, but…
This isn’t exactly a normal situation, is it?
Izuku’s idol himself said that Izuku couldn’t become a hero without a quirk. Sure, he was quick to change his tune after Izuku proved him wrong, but that didn’t take away from the fact that, at the end of it all, All Might was just like Kacchan, their teacher, and everyone Izuku’s ever met who deemed him worthless once they found out he was quirkless.
Well, not everyone…
Izuku looks at his mother. She looks back at him, wine glass held to her lips. There’s a question in her expression, but one that Izuku can’t quite parse even after fourteen years. He doesn’t know if he should chalk that down to her years as a grifter or just her being his mother.
Thief or not, though, it all comes down to one thing—his mother was the first person to offer him a third option, who told him he didn’t have to choose between being a hero or a quirkless salaryman, that he could be so much more.
And even though Izuku had always been open to her and Dad’s training, this side of himself—their family business—is something he never seriously considered for himself. It just made sense—if he wanted to be a hero, then he couldn’t be a thief.
Except, it wasn’t a hero who saved Kacchan from the sludge villain today before All Might arrived to incapacitate him. It was plain, quirkless Izuku, who had only been armed with what his thief parents taught him.
“Hey, Mom,” Izuku begins, a sudden calm washing over him. For the first time since he was four, he knows what he wants.
Mom puts her glass down, tips her head to the side, and smiles, curious but still inviting.
“I think I want to be a thief.”
Mom blinks once, twice.
Then, her smile widens and a gleam enters her jade green eyes. Now, this is an expression Izuku can read; it’s the same one she gets after pulling off a particularly difficult grift—pride. “I think we can arrange that.”
(The next day, Katsuki finds his house keys in his locker. He doesn’t have much time to wonder if he’d imagined misplacing them in his pockets yesterday, because he finds a bigger surprise when he walks into homeroom.
Deku’s desk has been completely cleared out, leaving nothing behind to indicate he’d ever been there at all.
“Midoriya’s mother has informed the school that they’ll be moving to Europe,” Honda-sensei drawls, probably reciting a memo. “If anyone has anything they’d like to send to Midoriya, come see me after class.”
But Katsuki is no longer listening. Deku’s gone? Just like that?
He glances at the empty desk, and his chest grows numb.)