Chapter Text
Nobody came to Izuku’s fourth birthday party.
It’s not that many were expected, but the room, strung with streamers and laid out with games and food no one would touch, felt hollow. In the corner, Izuku clutched the Solace action figure his mother had given him that morning.
“It’s okay, Mum,” he said, looking up, though his tears betrayed him. “I…there must be a reason.” Izuku was too young to know how to come up with a suitable excuse, but something inside him wanted to try…wanted to make sure there was a reason, and that the reason wasn’t him. “Mum?”
Inko startled, blinking at him as though she’d forgotten he was in the room. “Oh, honey. Of course, there’s no way this would happen without a reason. Let me call Mitsuki.”
Izuku turned over the figure in his hands, listening to his mother’s voice in the kitchen.
Oh, Mitsuki, sorry to disturb...Katsuki...For the party…yes, today…but you helped me set up…no, it’s fine…we’ll see you soon.
Inko stepped back into the room. She smiled, tight at the edges. “It’s alright, hun, Katsuki’s coming. Mitsuki just got a bit mixed up, but she said they’ll be here any minute.”
A warm feeling spread through him. That was enough. All he ever needed was Kacchan’s company, and he’d be happy. He grabbed Solace and ran to his room and gathered all his figures, excited to play heroes and villains once he got here.
He set them out on the living room floor, planning out the battles ahead. After a while, he rearranged them again, setting up battle after battle.
The minutes stretched to hours, but the house remained quiet. Izuku glanced at the door at every creak, waiting for his friend who never came.
Outside, the sky shifted to amber and red as the sun set.
“Mum?” Inko flinched and turned towards him, her eyes darting before focusing on her son. ”They’re not coming, are they?”
Inko glanced out the window and back at Izuku.
“No, I don’t think so…I’m sorry, I don’t know why I never thought to call Mitsuki.” She paused, as if she knew she had forgotten something but wasn’t sure what.
“How about we have the cake, just us two?” Inko broke out a large smile, as if there was nothing awry, as if pretending could make it all okay. “Let me just grab the cake and candles.”
Inko popped into the kitchen and returned minutes later, cake in hand, singing ‘Happy Birthday’. She set it down in front of Izuku.
“Now make a wish! You’re four now, maybe you should wish for what quirk you want to get.”
Izuku blew out the candles, clutching Solace close to him as he made his wish.
I wish...I wish for a quirk that makes me a real hero.
Izuku’s birthday had come and gone on the first weekend of summer holidays. What followed was six long weeks of waiting to see Kacchan. Izuku dreamt that he might come over for a sleepover like he used to, or that they’d meet at the park, or that he’d just knock on the door. But even when his Mum called Mitsuki, Kacchan never came.
But now school was back, and he could finally see him again.
“Kacchan! Kacchan!”
Izuku’s mother had driven him to school that morning, and he yelled out his farewell to her as he raced down the school’s courtyard. He leapt at his best friend, hugging him to make up for the time apart.
“Look what I got for my birthday! It’s Solace! The one you wanted for your birthday, but it only just came out. We can share it if you want!”
Katsuki twisted out of his grip, staring at the toy. Tiny sparks crackled in his palms, lighting the air with soft pops.
“...Your birthday?” he muttered.
Izuku’s grin faltered. “Yeah, remember? You were gonna come.”
But Katsuki was already walking ahead, sparks snapping faster in his fists.
“Don’t make stuff up, Izuku. If it was your birthday, I would’ve been there.”
The words stuck in Izuku's throat.
“Wait up!”
Izuku ran after Katsuki, slipping into the classroom as the other children set down their bags and took their spots on the floor for morning greetings. Izuku squeezed next to Katsuki, still clutching Solace.
“Okay, everyone! Welcome back, into your circles,” Sasaki-sensei called brightly. Izuku lit up. Sasaki-sensei sang the best songs, and she was always kind to him.
“Oh, hello, and who might you be?” Sasaki-sensei made eye contact with Izuku, who froze in place.
“I’m Iz…Izuku.” He stuttered.
“Well, hello, Izuku. My name is Sasaki-sensei. I’m looking forward to getting to know you this year.” She nodded at him, then continued greeting the other children.
Katsuki snorted beside him.
“Izuku, Sensei forgot you.”
“Nuh-uh”
“Then why’d she ask your name?”
Izuku didn’t know how to respond. After six weeks of feeling forgotten, his favourite teacher not knowing him was too much for him to understand.
“I don’t know…” he whispered, eyes filling up with tears.
Katsuki glanced at him, then at Sensei, scowling.
“You’re such a crybaby. She’s dumb if she forgot you. You were here last year.”
Before Izuku could answer, Sasaki-sensei clapped her hands. “Alright, everyone, it’s time for the morning song–” She stopped, her eyes landing on the figure in Izuku’s lap.
“Oh, Izuku,” she said gently, though her smile was pinched in the corners. “Toys from home should stay at home. Hand it here, please.”
Izuku’s fingers tightened around Solace. His chest ached; the figure had been the only constant at his side since his birthday. But he nodded and gave it over. Sensei slipped it into her desk drawer and shut it with a dull thud that echoed in Izuku’s ears.
“Good! Now, ready, everyone? One, two, three–”
The voices around him lifted in song, but Izuku mouthed them without a sound, staring at the desk.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. As always, he and Kacchan stuck close, barely even speaking to the other kids.
When the bell rang, parents crowded the entrance. Izuku darted to the door as soon as he saw his Mum.
“Thank you, Sasaki-sensei,” Inko said, bowing slightly as she arrived.
Sasaki-sensei smiled, bowing back before bringing out the figure of Solace, lowering her voice as she handed it over to Izuku. “Midoriya…toys like this aren’t really suited for school. It’s best that he doesn’t bring it again.” Her eyes flicked to the figure.
“Oh, of course,” Inko replied quickly. “We’ll make sure it stays at home.”
Sasaki-sensei’s smile thinned. “I’m not really sure that toy’s appropriate anywhere anymore.”
Inko faltered. “Oh, yes. I…I don’t really know how to tell–”
Sasaki-sensei’s eyes softened with sudden understanding. “Ah, I see. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “You know…Izuku’s not the only child still idolising Solace. Maybe the school should think about how to address it. Otherwise, the confusion, the disappointment…it’s only going to get harder for them. We’re lucky that it was far enough away–”
“Yes, of course.” Inko interrupted, as Sasaki-sensei blushed, realising she’d said too much. “We’ll…I’ll talk to Izuku about it at home.
Izuku pressed Solace tight against his chest, cheeks burning. He didn’t understand what they were talking about. Only that somehow, Solace was wrong now, and so was he.
“Mum, what did I do wrong?” Izuku asked as they walked home.
“Nothing, dear. It’s just…something bad happened. Very bad. I’ll tell you later.” Inko glanced around the busy street. “Izuku, do you mind putting Solace away until we get back?”
Izuku nodded, looking down as he carefully slipped the figure into his bag.
As they neared the street crossing, Izuku tugged on Inko’s sleeve. “Mum, look!”
Across the street, a group of soldiers stood in heavy armour, visors glinting in the sun.
“Shh, Izuku.”
One of the soldiers turned, scanning the crowd before striding toward them.
“You should be heading straight home, ma’am. We’ve received reports of villain activity in the area.”
“Yes, thank you.” Inko smiled softly at them, though her grip on Izuku tightened. He felt sweat bead between their palms.
“Where are you heading, ma’am?”
Inko’s smile didn’t waver. “Home. It’s just a few blocks over.”
“Go there directly. Keep your eyes open, for his sake.” The soldier nodded at Izuku and returned to his post.
The pair continued home, Inko setting a hurried pace. Izuku struggled to keep up, eyes darting to the walls they passed.
Adverts featuring Solace, once pristine, were now torn and sprayed over. Someone had spray-painted crude horns over his face on one of them, and another had his eyes scratched out.
A little further on, a toy store display that used to overflow with Solace merch had been emptied. The glass front was smashed, and across the shards of posterboard inside, someone had spraypainted a word Izuku couldn’t read.
T-R-A-I-T-O-R
Izuku slowed, staring, his stomach in knots. Solace was supposed to be a hero. Heroes didn’t get painted over. Heroes didn’t get smashed.
Izuku squinted, mouthing each letter. “T-R-A..trr-…trah-tah? Mum, what’s it mean?”
Inko tugged his hand tighter. “Don’t look, Izuku. Just keep walking.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Izuku’s question hanging between them.
Inko released a deep breath as she locked the door behind them. She looked over to Izuku, feeling a weariness she hadn’t experienced since she tried to explain what had happened to his father.
“Izuku, I need to tell you about something. I’m sorry I should have told you this a few weeks ago, but I didn’t know how.”
She didn’t mention that, somehow, she’d kept forgetting to tell him. Not once or twice, but again and again, as if it were being pushed away. Each time she remembered, she told herself it could wait. Each time, she forgot all over.
It was better to tell him now. Here, at home. Where he could be safe.
Inko sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. Izuku paused before walking over, taking Solace out of his bag and clutching him to his chest.
“Sweetheart,” she began softly, “sometimes the people we look up to…they make bad decisions. Big ones. Decisions that hurt people.”
Izuku stared at her. “But…Solace is a hero.”
Inko’s smile faltered. “He was…but even heroes can do bad things. And when that happens, people stop seeing them as heroes.”
Izuku’s arms wrapped tighter around the figure. “So he’s not a hero anymore?”
Inko hesitated before brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his face. “No, Izuku. Not anymore. And that’s why people don’t want to see him on posters or toys. It reminds them of the bad thing.”
“What was the bad thing?” Izuku whispered. Even as he asked the question, he knew he couldn’t handle the answer.
“He…he made a choice that, instead of saving people, it took them away. Whole famili-” Her words broke, tears spilling before she could finish. “Whole families were gone at once. And that’s why people are angry.”
Izuku slowly put Solace down and reached out to his mother, wrapping his small arms around her. “Heroes don’t do that.”
Inko trembled against him, crying into her child’s shoulder. “No, they don’t. Not real heroes.”