Chapter Text
“‘Can you become a hero without power?’ No, I don’t believe so.”
For the past few weeks, that sentence haunted Izuku’s thoughts. While coming back home that day, hearing about the sludge villain taking Kacchan hostage; while resubmitting his career form, telling the teacher someone had handed the other one in as a joke; while taking down the posters from his walls and putting them in the closet, unable to reconcile the bright smile with the face in his memory.
The reveal of All Might’s true form, mindset, and his answer had left him in a daze that day, one he hadn’t snapped out of until he got home.
He’d even been escorted back down to street level by the symbol of peace himself, no doubt concerned about leaving him on that rooftop alone, before apologizing again and racing off, no doubt having registered the far-off explosion where he hadn’t, and he hadn’t been able to find it in himself to geek out about it or feel awkward about the prior conversation while it happened.
After the initial shock had faded though, back in his room, a somber clarity had descended upon him.
All Might was right.
How was someone without a strong power able to fight against strong villains and survive?
And even without that, arguing that someone with less power could combat less powerful villains and criminals. Had he done anything to prepare for even that? Had he at any point tried to be realistic about his dreams? ‘You have to be realistic.’ Had he ever done that?
After coming home that day, Izuku had feebly flexed his arms in the mirror, taking in the complete lack of physical prowess.
From the moment he’d manifested his quirk, Kacchan had been training his mind, body and quirk whenever he could, with his figure and proficiency at Explosion as proof. What had he been doing? Hoping? Dreaming? How was a set of notebooks of him geeking out over heroes and quirks ever going to help him defeat powerful villains, or even criminals without anything else? Even if the mental training would help out, how was he going to execute any strategy and take down an opponent like this?
In his room that evening, that’s when the true realization had hit him.
A part of him had already given up on becoming a hero, a long time ago. Possibly even after that doctor’s visit. The rest of him had simply been too stubborn to catch on to it until the symbol of peace himself had forcefully shown him what the reality would be.
That didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt. Everyone else always told him he’d never be enough, and it was only now that he came to realize it himself.
He wasn’t good enough to be a hero. Nevermind a pro. He was just a Deku.
Who was he kidding?
Familiar loud voices coming from down the shopping district forced Izuku out of his thoughts.
Seriously? Now? The destruction from the Sludge Villain incident was still visible further down the street. How Kacchan or his hanger-ons even wanted to be here, with half the shops still closed for repairs, was a mystery, though it almost felt like cosmic punishment to him.
Since having needed rescue from ‘some D-list villain’ and the forced rest imposed on him by the doctors, Kacchan’s irritability had skyrocketed. Coupled with Izuku’s simultaneous realization and giving up on attending UA’s hero course, which he somehow saw as a slight against him…
Spotting the nearest off-shoot, Izuku kept himself small as he turned into it, speedily walking down the alley while ignoring the throbbing ache in his forearm.
Several turns into adjacent alleys later and he came to a stop, holding in his breath as his ears took in the silence of the back alleys.
His shoulders slumped with a sigh. They hadn’t noticed and followed him.
Now where had he walked to?
Despite living here all his life, the back alleys wasn’t exactly a place he paid attention to. It was merely a place he could traverse when the regular streets weren’t an option, either because of Kacchan or another classmate, or a villain attack obstructing the way.
…and which way had he come from again?
Knowing he shouldn’t keep his mom waiting, and how dangerous places like these could become, he sped through the alleys, taking several turns.
Eventually he found himself in an especially narrow alley, the decrepit buildings towering over him and casting everything in constant shade.
It was as he passed a peculiar, dented door that couldn’t possibly be locked, covered with ratty purple drapes, that a loud clang echoed through the alley.
Something moved from where he came, and on instinct he turned and barged through the dented door, which thankfully gave way to his shoulder.
Shutting it behind him, his thoughts were already berating him.
Seriously! What a scaredy-cat! It’d probably just been an actual cat, or a rattling pipe.
Hopefully nobody lived here…
With that thought, Izuku’s eyes got used to the dark interior.
The interior was as ratty and in disrepair as the drapes outside. A dusty couch with a table occupied the middle of the small room, with a shelf taking up the back wall, bordering a doorway that led to stairs.
The shelf and table displayed all kinds of trinkets. Decks of cards. Goblets of varying sizes. A cloudy ball. One wall had a row of ofudas hanging from a string.
Izuku frowned as he walked up to it, his fingers sliding over one of the yellowed papers.
Was this a tacky fortune telling shop?
He should probably-
“A visitor?”
Izuku was not proud of the yelp that escaped him.
From the doorway, an elderly woman stood, her legs trembling as she clutched a cane.
Her skin was saggy and wrinkly, covered in liver spots and appearing like leather. Her figure was hunched. Her hair was wispy and mostly gray, with only hints of a once deep green. Her eyes were almost completely closed, though she had no trouble looking straight at him as she hobbled forwards.
“I-I’m so sorry,” Izuku stuttered out, taking a step back. “I got lost in- in the alleys, and I didn’t- uhm, I lost my way trying to get away from- from- uh-”
“It’s very rare that someone truly loses their way,” the woman croaked, delicately lowering herself onto the couch. “Often, what is disregarded as coincidence can be something more. If only people took the time…”
Izuku sent her an odd look, glancing back at the door.
“Please, stay for a moment longer?” the old woman asked. “I haven’t had visitors in a long time.”
He’d rather dash out and brave the back alleys again, but a small part of him was already urging him to stay and make sure the old woman was okay. This wasn’t a place for someone her age to stay at.
With one last moment of hesitation, Izuku stepped forward again, nodding.
The elderly woman didn’t say anything. Somehow, the silence was the most unsettling.
“What is this place?” Izuku finally asked quietly.
“My home,” the woman answered. It only made him feel worse for barging in. “It used to be my shop, but nowadays it’s simply a place where I live and keep the things I won’t throw away.” She laughed, though it wasn’t the most pleasant to the ears.
“You were a…fortune teller?”
“Divination was my interest,” the woman answered. “I enjoyed most fields. From tea leaves to horoscopes to palm reading to tarot. The service most customers came for however was something unique to me.”
Somehow, the woman reminiscing had put Izuku at ease, and he found himself sitting at the other end of the couch.
“Unique?” he echoed. “A quirk?”
Crap. Why’d his mind always go back to quirks?
The woman huffed out a laugh. “Yes, my quirk.” She sighed. “Most people were skeptical when I described it, but it never failed me, even if people were regularly disappointed.”
Despite his self-recrimination, Izuku couldn’t curb his curiosity now that quirks were involved.
“Then…what does it do?”
“It lets me see the threads one person shares with everyone else,” the woman said, sounding listless. “And forges a connection that is needed most.”
It…what?
Apparently his confusion and skepticism was clear on his face, as the woman huffed again.
“Yes, connections. Familial, romantic, platonic, adversarial; established, or merely a possibility. I could see them all. In my youth, my peers simply thought I could see soulmates. They all wanted me to tell them who they’d fall in love with.”
She shook her head, sighing. “They were often disappointed. Generally, a connection that is needed most in the moment isn’t like in the movies. Once, a client gained a connection with an accountant for hire, as he was close to committing a terrible financial decision.”
There was a huffed laugh again. Izuku could see the humor in it.
“And of course, even temporary, the other person involved often wasn’t pleased with a sudden connection forged with them.”
Izuku frowned. What was she even talking about when she mentioned connection?
“Oh well.” The old woman groaned as she tried to get up. “Those days are long behind me. Nowadays, it is simply my own connections that reveal themselves to me. To taunt me, no doubt.”
Given that she lived in a near-derelict building in some back alley, Izuku could see how her social life was lacking.
Maybe…
No, that was dumb. He wasn’t fit to help others.
“‘Can you become a hero without power?’ No, I don’t believe so.”
There it was again.
“Let me help you up,” he said, standing up and moving over to the struggling woman.
It was the least he could-
A loud gasp cut off his thoughts the moment his hand touched her bare wrist.
The woman’s trembling had ceased entirely, her face staring and taking him in.
“Young man…”
“Uhm, ma’am?” Izuku asked warily, jolting when the hand that’d previously been holding the cane shot out to grab his free wrist in response.
He tugged, yet his hand was not released.
“I have never…such a strong reaction,” the elderly woman mumbled.
“Ma’am, could you-” He tugged again, harsher this time.
The elderly woman jolted, head tilting up to meet his face.
Izuku momentarily stilled as he finally saw the woman’s eye.
It was clouded over, but the iris was still very clear. It looked like silvery thread was spooled around the pupil, fraying at places and meandering out radially, staining red and looking like veins.
And now the spool looked like it was turning sluggishly around the pupil.
He tugged again, and the woman’s eyes widened in alarm.
“No, I have to!”
What was she talking about?!
In a rush of panic, Izuku jerked his captured hand back, the remarkably strong grip giving way as a glint of light was caught in the elderly woman’s eyes.
The sudden release made him stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the table.
The woman stepped forward, an arm reaching out to him, and Izuku’s survival instincts fully kicked in.
“Wait, young man!” the elderly woman shouted after him as he dashed through the dented door, sprinting down the alley.
It was only when a turn revealed the open street ahead that Izuku’s footfalls slowed down, gasping breaths taking over as he came to a stop and had to lean against the wall.
What had that been about?!
Questions were racing through his mind, backed up by the constant drum of his heart within his ears.
His gasping returned to heavy breathing, and Izuku shook his head, moving closer to the street ahead, basking in orange light.
Orange?
He gulped. It was already sunset?
He had to get back to his mom!
Despite his shortness of breath, which only further cemented how unrealistic his dreams had been and how little he’d done for them, Izuku got back into a jog, leaving the entrance to the alley network behind him.
It was only as he reached the entrance to the apartment block and slowed down from his jog that his thoughts returned.
Who was that? Why had she reacted like that?
Had she used her quirk? On him?
The thought didn’t sit well with him, something in his stomach squirming as he ascended the stairs.
No, no, it was ridiculous! What kind of quirk lets you see connections that are only a possibility? That meant a connection between one person and almost everyone else on Earth, including people yet to be born!
And picking a connection that would be the most ‘needed’? No, the quirk sounded too intelligent, too sapient, too nebulous to possibly be true. Maybe the old woman wasn’t all there anymore in her age, or she’d misunderstood her quirk, or had simply embellished it.
His thoughts were briefly interrupted by his mom, who came rushing to him as he entered, pulling him into a squeezing hug.
Despite not having said anything, his revelation and change in thinking over the past few weeks had been clear enough to her; she’d started fretting over him even more than usual.
“I made katsudon,” she said, smiling at him as he took off his shoes.
He sent back a grateful smile.
This was the eighth time since that rooftop that she’d made it, and it was clear what she meant by it.
Even though the brief glimpses of relief he’d seen breaking through her fretting and comforting pained him deeply, he couldn’t help but smile.
It could’ve been so much worse. At least he had a mom who loved him the most in this world.
He sat down with a sigh as the table was plated, the pork cutlet steaming from its bowl.
His life and lifelong convictions had been uprooted, and he’d been left aimless since then, nevermind everything from today piling on top of it.
He began with his first piece, eyes closing as he took in the perfect way his mom made it.
But right now he could simply push all those thoughts and feelings aside, and relish in the comfort of his favorite food, in the company of the one person who loved him.
Yet despite that, an odd feeling intruded on his moment of comfort. A strange sort of confusion.
Izuku frowned, pausing his chewing. Now he was definitely confused.
Pushing it aside, he swallowed and continued eating.
By the time he finished and thanked his mom, getting up to put away the dish and head to his room, he couldn’t deny that his feelings felt…off.
There was his own confusion, and the lingering contentment from dinner, and the simmering emotions that hadn’t truly left since the rooftop, but there was also…more confusion, and now some strange wariness bubbling underneath.
His heart stilled as he remembered the old woman’s words.
No. No, that couldn’t be-
“Hello?” he asked out loud, his voice bouncing against the walls.
No reaction.
He shook his head, dropping on his bed.
Well, he was very tired. Maybe that was messing with his emotions. He hadn’t exactly gotten much high quality sleep recently.
Besides, a quirk like the one she described had never been documented before. It was well-known that all possible quirks could only descend from the original types that had randomly manifested at the Dawn. Since then, every quirk was a combination or amplification or mutation of those abilities. Nothing truly new could ever be added, and nothing documented was anything close to what the woman had described.
Disregarding the odd state of his emotions, he rushed through his evening routine, sending a final ‘good night’ to his mom and collapsing onto his bed, wearing the only set of plain pajamas he owned, welcoming the warm embrace of sleep.
The next moment he registered, he was staring up at a ceiling.
He was still lying in bed, and it was too dark in the room to make out anything on the ceiling. Except he couldn’t move.
Please no. Did he have to add sleep paralysis to his growing list of issues?
Except, even with sleep paralysis he should be able to move his eyes. He couldn’t even do that. They blinked, but when he tried to move them, they remained still.
A pang of muted panic rang through him.
“Hello?” he tried to call out. Tried, because despite his words coming out, his mouth didn’t move.
His vision jolted as he suddenly sat up–again, completely without his input–and was left helpless as his eyes flitted across the pitch-black room against his will.
A second jolt of anxiety ran through him, and then the biggest shock came.
“Who’s there?” his mouth whispered without his input, a voice not his own coming out and echoing through the obscured room.
With a gasp Izuku shot up on his bed, heart racing.
What was that?!
His eyes darted around the room, quick breaths breaking up the deafening silence as he came down from his nightmare.
A nightmare, right?
It…Apart from his lack of agency, it hadn’t been very fear inducing.
Slowly, his breaths diminished in volume, and Izuku strained his hearing as he took in the silence.
He could hear the muffled sounds of someone from the apartment above being restless, the rustling of sheets through the walls as his mom rolled over in bed, the distant clattering of heavy rain.
No, it was nothing. It was…
He gulped. It shouldn’t exist, and yet.
“Hello?” he called out again, restraining his volume to avoid waking his mom in the other room. “Are you still there?”
The brief respite from silence ended, leaving him with his sheets sticking to his sweaty arms.
Nothing.
He breathed out, unsure of what to think. Maybe he should just go back to sleep and look forward to the upcoming golden week.
And perhaps he’d go and check the old woman’s place again too, if he could find it. Despite everything, he didn’t like the thought of having left behind-
“Mhm.”