Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

୨風柱の前身୧

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

For as cruel as life began, there was always hope around the corner, at least, that’s what I wanted to believe. If the world began cruelly; where did kindness come from? Where did the angels appear before the devils? The demons we call human flesh?

It’s a question I had in mind but one I’ve never had the answer to. It’s easy to hide kindness within lies; it’s easy to hide lies within kindness and it’s a truth I’ve long forgotten. Welcome to the dance; may I take your hand?”

°• ⎯ 今夜、悪魔と踊ろう🍃࿐ೃ˙

Midoriya Izuku used to have a mother; he used to have a father. Perhaps if the marriage was healthy, loving, and adoring he would’ve grown up with a kind and empathic heart. He would’ve grown up with a smile on his face and a worldview that had him questioning his worth, his life, and his dreams.

But this Izuku never had such a thing, he never had a happy–healthy relationship with either of his parents. Yes, he loved his mother. Yes, he hated his father. But it was broad knowledge, nothing to it. It’s how he grew up; living in an area of town known for crime and gangs, just overall not a place people will ever go to.

He grew up basically fatherless with the man ditching them for unknown reasons; having to bear the knowledge of giving life to a boy with no powers. No quirk. And with a hard-unstable mother working her way to a path of no return; Izuku walked the path of shame knowing damn well his life never had a happy ending.

At least, that’s how it was originally planned.

°• ⎯ 今夜、最後まで踊ろう🍃࿐ೃ˙

An empty abyss opened, letting the pale purple eyes open to a world anew, the first thing he saw was bright emerald green eyes tired due to exhaustion after giving him life. The pale purple turned to green and everything of what it once was, was buried deep inside the past, which was never to be seen again.

Izuku cried for the first time in Musutafu, Japan July 15, 2XXX, at three in the morning, wanting to be near his parents, his family, and everything up to the age of three was fuzzy but what repeated were the loud noises.

The crashes and smoke and danger. He didn’t realize till the age of six; he was unwanted. His father never wanted him – the look of anger and soberness mocked his doe-eyes that shined with innocence, curiosity.

Everything was fine despite the loud noises, the anger that lay between the floorboards, and the questions lying between the baby’s mouth. It all went to shambles the day of his sixth birthday; the day his father spat in his face for being the worst, misbehaving kid a father could ever have, and the worst part?

How he never wanted him to be alive. How bad he was and no one – even his mother – never loved him.

Izuku didn’t understand it – no – he was just six! How could he understand the words “misbehaving” and “alive” with the word “never” in the sentence? The only thing he knew from his words were “bad” and “loved,” back then he didn’t understand the truth in those words. He never knew what happened next after his mother yelled at his father.

Everything escalated to the cops being called and bruises and fire that led them to move to where Izuku residing since the tender age of six. He grew up knowing that if you never locked the doors everything will go to hell. He learned to never look adults in the eye. He learned to never say a word to those lower than him.

He grew up in a town – in a place – that called for him to be vigilant. That called his childhood and ruin whatever positive lifestyle he could’ve had and for that, Izuku blamed this on his parents; more specifically his father.

The second he realized what it meant – the moment – he felt real rage after his own mother, his birth giver, grabbed a knife, and tried to blind him. Make him like a piece of salami after looking more like his father; Izuku blamed every misfortune on his father.

The one that ruined his life; that ruined his mother's life.

He felt unspeakable rage boring deep inside his bones, his flesh, and his teeth. For the first time since that horrible birthday, Izuku felt rage about something; about someone. For the first and last time, he swore to make it through life and rise. Alone.

He would make a name for himself without a father to his name. Without a sperm donor nagging at his side about a “what could’ve been if he hadn't been born.” Izuku grew up bitter – angry – but it was the small things that earned his smile. His happiness.

Like for example the random animals that decided to approach him, sometimes a cat, a dog, a bird, or even a squirrel! The little kids looked at him for food and saw the smile come to his ugly, scarred face when he comes back to feed them despite the lack of food he’ll have afterward.

How he’ll be "forced" to play dress up with the little girls or play pirates with the little boys within this scary neighborhood and watch how happy they get even for the small reason of having someone else. Someone new.

It was the little things like walking around without a care, drinking tea in a simple morning, and waking up without a huge burden day in and day out despite his Junior High pushing him down, training with a family heirloom, and working several jobs to keep up bills and medication for his mother that Izuku smiled every now and then.

Izuku will never admit how soft he became to this group of people; his people. Izuku will admit, however, that in the end, his story might never have a happy ending but if he got to see his people smile, happy, and carefree?

He wouldn’t mind changing that ending knowing damn well he did his job correctly; that job happened to be labeled “live a life without regrets; live a life where we’re all happy.” If his ending isn’t meant to be happy; how did he smile till the end?

This is the story of [REDACTED] Izuku, also known as Midoriya Izuku to those who never learned about the real him. The little kid within the box of armor and gold. The little child that lost his way through life at a young age; this is the story about him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Chapter Text

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━  

୨ 風柱の前身 ୧  

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━  

Izuku awoke to thunder screaming in his ears and with the covers freezing underneath his skin. The little boy, no older than eight, lay stiff on the cold, broad bed wondering if this is the day, he’ll not go to school today. It was wet, loud, and dark outside; he doubted he’d make it today. 

His shoulders ached, his knees were exhausted, and he could hardly make any movements without sending pins and needles all throughout his skin and bones. As dull as his emerald eyes where he forced his body up, pushing back the sudden wave of nausea he got when pushed to his absolute limit, and shuffled to the bathroom despite his body’s warnings. 

The little boy went through his routine and covered himself with double-layered clothes, carefully grabbing his wrecked umbrella, and making his way to school. He walked over the cracks on the road, avoided the stares of his neighbors, and with heavy rain tried to make it to hell with soggy clothes and a broken umbrella. 

No one turned an eye. No one looked at him. He was quirkless. That should mean it was a waste of time, right? That should mean not wasting supplies on someone that might not even make it past ten or nine or eight!  

Yet here was Midoriya Izuku, age eight, walking to school despite the heavy rain and the dangers of getting a cold. His little feet pushed forward and made it to school in wet clothes. He shook his head leaving droplets on the floor while going straight to the bathroom after changing his outside shoes to inside shoes.

It was going to be alright.

It was going to be fine.

°• ⎯ あなたが知っているのは悲しいですか 🍃࿐ೃ˙

His warm set of clothes was misty at best, and cold at worst, but it was way better than straight-up soggy and heavy and suffocating clothes weighing down on his body. It was far better than a double-layered. 

His little feet, with a painstaking ribbon, walked their way to his classroom and settled in the far end row looking at the blackboard with today’s lesson plan. More students came along the way, leaving Izuku to space out and focus on the ticking no one could hear except him. 

Time went on and little Izuku looked out as the sun shined through the dark clouds with water going pitter patter, pitter patter Izuku stepped over the puddles refusing to wet another pair of clothes that had survived this far due to the natural elements.  

His eyes were staring afar, and his hands held his yellow backpack’s straps hard. He couldn’t recall coming home, unlocking the triple locks, closing them back, and hoping to change even while his body locked down on itself and fell to the ground.

Izuku felt nothing while lying down, his body shaking slightly, and the need to throw up iron liquid. It was normal. His normal. His body responded to the harsh training regimen he created for himself after reading through a journal about his predecessor. He remembered reading about them when his mother was still around. 

The secrets; the journey they took to get this far – Izuku felt proud knowing about them – they were strong, wild, and best of all? Free. Izuku, while mainly numb to everything, pushed himself up, his body shaky, and ever so weak.  

The opposite of what he could describe of his predecessor, his body turned over, and he looked at the ceiling balancing his breath as his body recalled itself. He couldn’t recall crying; he couldn’t remember the rage or anger flowing through his veins but what he did remember was the urgency to get up. 

The way his mind pushed through what the flesh needed most, Izuku was eight when he cried that day, and he was moving to nine when he lifted the blade that had a jagged pattern woven into it with two different shades of green. 

His eyes were so entranced by the pattern he carefully observed everything about the weapon, the katana, that survived for so long. He smiled for the first time in two years as he held the katana for his life.

He was ten when he realized how much education mattered to the people around him – to the city that called themselves “angels,” it didn’t take much for him to take a teaching position after looking at a flyer that asked for a tutor in his area. The only question the person had asked was his appearance, so he knew not to confuse him.

Knowing the area, he lived in, Izuku gave his description without a fault; giving away his biggest insecurity known to himself. The scar that ran from the right side of his face to the midpoint of his left eye, underneath, and he said nothing else after that. He confirmed his position and hung up after that. 

Izuku never realized how a tutor job would lead to a path full of people – and smiles – and happiness – and a closed wound. “The future would be bright,” said his mother once. The world would look at him differently and push him down to the ground with no one batting an eye at the poor, quirkless kid. 

It was the truth he learned; a truth he figured out early on. 

His dull emerald eyes never realized the small smiles he made before the blade – the silent voice aching him to move – to fight – to keep moving forward. He remembers that night – which stained his face forever – and he remembers at the age of eight when his body gave up on him.

If “the future would be bright” could apply to Izuku he would’ve gladly, and selfishly, packed his bags and moved out of the godforsaken apartment he lived alone for years now. If the saying could apply to him after all these years – he would’ve asked for someone to say “Hey, you’re doing a great job.”

It was all Izuku asked for after the age of ten. His feet moved on the pavement, under broken concrete, and made his way to a decent apartment complex that asked for elementary schooling for a four-five-year-old.

While being ten himself the pay was decent, eleven bucks an hour, and he had at least two hours each session with Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays being booked for said hours. Meaning he could make sixty-six bucks in total. He could skip a couple of grades if the kid he’s going to tutor seemed a couple of grades higher, intelligence-wise, but at the end of the day, he got paid, so, he’ll take what he could take.

And boy, did Izuku bite into something far bigger than just tutoring. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Chapter Text

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୨風柱の前身୧

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

He was moving to nine when he lifted the blade that had a jagged pattern woven into it with two distinct shades of green living together in a beautiful harmony Izuku loved to see each time he woke up. He wasn’t ready to lift the blade and Kami use it even; he would shatter a priceless weapon that survived since forever!

Forever!

The dull emerald eyes followed the pattern that his body got used to little by little, taking a deep breath he left the flow of air reach every cell within himself, and went his merry way afterward. Following the same routine, he had since five; five, a year before everything went off the rails.

Izuku hummed to himself when packing his bento, along with a small snack he was going to open when he got to class but as everything went to plan an odd factor caught his attention. A little boy was asking for food and as expected the people within their area either ignored him or yelled at the kid to screw off.

Leaving the boy hopeless and hungry during the spring transition to summer, Izuku didn’t bother looking at him when the boy looked up with the tiniest of sparks when he caught his eyes. There was no worth in being that hopeful for something that’ll never happen.

When he looked back the kid was sobbing, tugging his body to an alley, and pushing himself to bear the audible rumbles of his aching tummy. Izuku looked back to his path, school would start in an hour or so, and technically he should be on his merry way.

Like planned.

But the nagging feeling he got when seeing a boy – a child – so helpless like a simple meal tugged at his heartstrings. The little hero inside him practically begged him to help – save – give the little kid something to eat. It was even worse when he passed a cheap convenience store.

Which led him to where here was now, offering a cheap meal, and a mango juice to the little boy who looked at him like he had just hung the stars and the moon just for him. Just for him. Izuku didn’t know how to feel with such, but he waved goodbye to the kid and told him “Good luck” with a conviction that could move mountains for a second.

°• ⎯ お兄ちゃん、笑ってみませんか🍃࿐ೃ˙

Izuku never forgot about it. He kept buying extra cheap meals till he got a pay raise and left them in his mini fridge he fixed up and gave them away whenever he saw another child or adult just asking for food. He never asked for anything in return, just giving them food and a good luck farewell for their endeavors.

It was the least he could do when he remembered the boy that asked for food one day, Izuku hummed to himself when the summer heat hits the pavement with hellfire, “Seems like I need to buy colder drinks,” muttered Izuku.

He was turning nine in a week, and today was Friday which meant the next Friday he would celebrate the day of his birth, his emerald eyes looked out the window, observing what mild adventure he could have after completing his homework, and basic chores.

He had nothing to do, so he removed himself from the couch, put on his outside shoes, and went outside with a decent about of money in his palms. Since, he didn’t have anything to do, with completed homework, clean dishes, clothes, doing the laundry, deep cleaning the two-bedroom and one-bathroom apartment, and his training regimen.

Izuku went to buy his basic needs.

Well, what little could he give to himself after taking up the plate to feed whoever he saw lying practically dead on the streets. Knowing that both summer and winter are partially a death sentence since the weather can be either too hot or too cold.

Izuku made the track to the two-hour-long grocery store that had good sales and didn’t bother him despite his shoes telling them something if they looked close enough. Izuku could feel the eyes burning his silhouette, the chitters, and the chatters when he made his way to the store.

Izuku couldn’t see the waves of protection that covered his skin when he followed his path, he couldn’t break any rules he learned along the way, and despite the words and looks that were mostly positive Izuku passed the thresh hole and checked himself out when the time for lunch came around.

°• ⎯ また微笑み方を忘れたよ、弟 🍃࿐ೃ˙

The crunch of the lettuce and bread soothed any hunger Izuku grabbed when making his track home. The little boy sat on the bench with his groceries close to him with a basic ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwich that was on sale because no one was really buying them.

Izuku being Izuku snagged on the price of buying four for two extra free deals and made his way to the beverage idle. Looking for anything that caught his eye or the mental list everyone else liked when doing his rounds.

Sitting on the bench, munching on his beloved sandwich Izuku observed the people around him, the location of the store was near the poor and kind of stable section of town, at least, that’s the label Izuku put when looking around.

It’s the main reason he does the two-hour track is that the prices are fair enough for the people it serves and for that, Izuku will forever be grateful. Munching on his sandwich Izuku saw the pigeons being pigeons, the people walking, and the tanuki no one pays attention to snag food from the unexpecting victims.

The basic sandwich he bought fuels him up enough for another trip and with throwing the plastic container into the recycling bin. Izuku made his path home with his yellow backpack full to the brim with groceries and hands stuffed with fruits and veggies he could make a meal from.

His feet make a pat, pat, pat noise and his vision is straightforward despite the bright and warm sun burning daylight onto his skin. His huffs and puffs were slightly audible to the people who were close to him but were ignored either way by himself and the people around him. Or so he thought.

Perhaps he earned a reputation, maybe he gained a following, however, the stares that burned holes into his skull looked at the child no older than eight, nine Izuku would say, walking under a strong heatwave with bags of groceries weighing him down.

There were adults who talked to him but the answer that left his mouth never stopped echoing inside their heads; “Why would you care about the lowest in the food chain?” It set off alarms but before any of the adults tried to talk to him, Izuku was miles ahead before he could even give a solid answer.

Leaving the adults with more questions than answers.

At the end of his four/five-hour journey, Izuku for once had enough food to [hopefully] last a month, a month in a half, if he isn’t so greedy. The slight pride and smile raising his cheeks couldn’t help but make him feel all so bubbly and joyous; the drinks he bought for himself, and the people around were settled in the back of his mini fridge.

The next time Izuku saw the boy that started an unknown chain of events he looked at Izuku with so much joy – admiration – that Izuku for the first time seemed shocked to be paid back. The little boy who was six at the time gave Izuku, two ohagi that when Izuku bit into it, felt the love and care put into these.

The dullness in his eyes was so small you could see sparkles shining through Izuku’s eyes. He couldn’t help patting the kid and thanking him for such a delicious meal that he choked on it later on when the little boy, now seven, told him, “I’m only returning the favor, thank you so much for helping me back then, big brother!”

It made something inside a bubble of pride when the boy looked at him with so much love and admiration and bliss. Izuku for once was speechless and shook his head, blush was forming, and whatever dignity he had denied it till the end of the Earth.

“I did nothing; you survived this long and all I did was give you food, anyone else could’ve done so.” The little one giggled at his big brother’s idiocy, “Could’ve, big brother, deny it if that makes you feel better, big brother but in the end, I know you saved my life.” Izuku looked back in shock at the little boy in front of him before he could dwell into that rabbit hole.

The little boy said goodbye, Izuku panicked and reached out to the little boy making him question why he’s done such an action. Izuku with whatever voice he had left asked the little boy for his name and wondered if he’d like to meet up someday, and hang out.

Izuku could not kid anyone when he saw the sun right in front of his face, the boy lit up so brightly, he thought the sun moved position to be right in front of him. “’m Kouki, big brother! And I’ll love to meet you again maybe tomorrow? Or something like that!”

Izuku nodded, ruffling the little guy’s hair, and sending him off with a sandwich Izuku was planning to have for dinner. “See ya then Kouki, I can’t wait!” hollered Izuku as Kouki became smaller and smaller. If someone turned Izuku’s way, they would’ve seen the soft gesture his voice and face turned into when sending Kouki off; so bright and so full of glee and joy.

The smile reminds even when he went to bed with a hungry and empty stomach because for once he slept with joy and not misery or despair about not being enough. About a “what could’ve been.” The little boy called him big brother! Someone who protects; who has fun along the way with his younger siblings. And for that, Izuku dreamt of a world full of colors and breezes.

Free and wild about a story of a boy who didn’t have anything but smiled with the tiniest of hopes there would be a happy ending at the end of his journey.

A world full of light no one could tell if they were smiling due to joy, bliss, or pride. Izuku slept knowing he’d done a good job – a great job – and if he waved back to the stares, he told himself to ignore, even have a tiny conversation with the people he fed then that’s his business, no?

It’s something only he and the people would have known for the years to come.

°• ⎯ そうしたら。。。私はあなたが永遠に笑顔になるのを手伝います!兄貴！ ࿐ೃ˙

“Hey, big brother!” Kouki yelled and Izuku turned around having a splash of light be held carefully despite never, ever having to be afraid of it ever again, “Hey, Kouki! How was your morning?” asked Izuku, and Kouki, with the brightest smile in the world answered with a bright tone, “Amazing! Papa finally made it through and earned a job! I don’t have to ask for food anymore!”

“I’m glad Kouki how about I treat you with ice cream? Or candy? What would you?” And if Kouki’s sunshine smile churned Izuku’s inside only he had to know as they walked together and waved at each other at the end of the day. ‘Yeah, today was a great day,’ thought Izuku as he looked out his windows full of bright stars and galore.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Chapter Text

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୨ 風柱の前身 ୧  

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━  

He was ten when he realized how much education mattered to the people around him, Izuku recently turned ten, eating a single ohagi for breakfast, and cake for dinner. As a way to celebrate it. Izuku stopped having overly large birthdays, no one came, and after six with no one to celebrate Izuku accepted that fact and stopped asking for anything.  

Though it never stopped him from buying small treats on July 15 every other year. Izuku, ever so young, never saw how he paid half the price of each treat he bought for himself in the cheap convenience store. He humbly accepted it without realizing it every year – he slightly caught on to it when he saw someone else buying the same ohagi for a larger price.  

The store clerk caught on and changed the price before either client could realize the catch. For that, Izuku stayed oblivious to the actual prices in the convenience store. However, the older he got, the harsher his schoolteachers pushed him to the ground.  

No one would suspect that Midoriya Izuku, the quirkless, powerless, brat to live past the age of what? Four, five, six, seven, or eight? No, they would see the green-haired child and grimace about the quirkless living another day in this superpowered society.  

Izuku only had about two? One more year of elementary before transitioning to Junior High and while it left a bitter taste in his mouth with every push and nudge, falling down the concrete pathway with scrapes and bruises, and commonly with a red flower in his grasp; Izuku pushed on.  

He had to push on despite the unfairness given to him on a silver platter. The people around his area probably noticed the absolute injuries when he tripped down a broken slab and couldn’t stand up. Kouki even managed to see the spider lilies inside his backpack he forgot to throw away after a nasty shove tossed his small little body to a brick wall.  

Izuku swore to hide them better because when Kouki cried, Izuku felt like crying too, no, he was crying, and it wasn’t till later that Kouki revealed his quirk’s nature. “True Nature; it lets the people around me show the true emotions they keep under wraps or lets them be affected about how I feel and make them react like how they would react, it’s kind of useless, eh, big brother?”  

Kouki told him with the dimmest smile he’s ever seen and while the tears were a mess, his rage and anger basically bare to the world around him, Izuku held Kouki by the shoulders and hugged him. Reassuring him that “No, Kouki, it’s wonderful. Don’t you ever say it’s useless because it’s not. A quirk is never useless and by default; so aren’t you.”  

He could feel the wave of actual sadness – numbness – follow through his system but never, never had he foreseen the way both would hug and cry on each other. He would never guess the sentiment it would have whenever Izuku would see Kouki again.  

The way the kid tried to smile – shine – so bright that it looked like it hurt; how this little boy seemed to be holding onto a thread every day. Izuku had no idea what to do but he wanted to help; release some of that burden Kouki seemed to have.  

°• ⎯ それらの包帯の下に真実があります 🍃࿐ೃ˙  

The days passed since then, Izuku thinking about what he could do to relieve some of that pain that was probably very deep, very loud, and very silent as each day comes by. It was only when he looked at a flyer that asked for elementary school teaching; more specifically under the first-grade category that Izuku found a flint.  

He was currently a fifth grader – soon to be sixth if all goes well – he could teach someone despite there being any difference, and from what the flyer was asking of him was that Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays were two-hour sessions with eleven bucks an hour for pay. It wasn’t a bad deal in Izuku’s opinion.  

Sixty-Six dollars for himself and Kouki, which he later realizes he was getting attached to him, the other money makers he had under his belt were the main reason he could buy and pay rent, and necessities. So, taking a teaching position, he guessed it wouldn’t be so bad despite the jobs, regimen, and school schedule that seem to be increasing every day.  

Taking a small piece of the flyer with a number, Izuku went on his merry way to school, and afterward between his lunch break, and second shift called the number on the piece of paper. The ringing lasted a solid thirteen seconds before a gruff, stiff voice answered.  

“Hello? Was it that you need?” asked the voice, Izuku paused before answering, worry can come later thought Izuku, “Yes, I’m wondering about the tutor job. If it’s still available of course.” Izuku felt the hours pass by with the questions slightly tossed around and confirmation.  

“May I ask about your schooling if you don’t mind? If it eases you [more] about the grade level?” Humming, Izuku nodded without realizing he was on call but hush, it’s only something he had to know, “Yes, currently fifth – transition to sixth – but I promise I can teach them the topics they need.   

If it helps with my word – I helped a friend’s little sister about their characters and sounding with her being in the first grade almost second, and she passed without repeating the grade.” He could hear the relief sigh that escaped the man’s mouth – which ouch – but he understood.   

Someone basically under their same schooling was going to try and teach them. If Izuku knew something about elementary kids it would be that they don’t tend to help each other, at least, the ones that don’t have a heart, he guessed.  

And with more questions being tossed around like age, gender, past experiences, address, time, etc. Izuku found that he had a [basic] total of three jobs now. One as a tutor and one as a shelf filler because people are lazy and one as a handyman for a coffee shop that is five hours away, but the owner is nice, so, that was that.  

With the questionnaire over, Izuku was able to get a frame of what he could teach to this little girl. Yes, he was going to teach a little girl, who was six, and in first grade. Her name was Inori and from what Izuku could get from her father, Gekkou, she was having a hard time with memorizing the characters and telling the difference between sentence structures.  

Which was fine, Izuku remembered having Itsumi who had memory problems and a too little attention span so he recommended her parents to see a psychiatrist for ADHD. They later gave him thanks because he was right – she did have ADHD with minor anxiety being sprinkled over but he was glad to help.  

Glad, huh, Izuku shook his head and answered any other issues or concerns Gekkou could have or may have about his teaching capabilities. With that, his position as a tutor was secured and he got back to work two minutes late under his name.  

°• ⎯ 包帯の下に真実を隠す 🍃࿐ೃ˙   

With the address inserted into memory, Izuku made his way to a decent, complex building within gang territory, which sent a whole lot of red flags into his head, but he lived near here, thirty minutes at best, forty-four at worst. It was just that this was deeper than Izuku would’ve liked to be in.  

But who was he to judge anyway? Izuku climbed up the stairs despite the stares, the holes going through his skull, and the judgment he got with the scar marring the [almost] entirety of his face.  

Gekkou had asked about how he looked like, Izuku being Izuku, gave him the basics, his height being around 4’10, eyes and hair being the color green, and the huge giveaway was the scar across his face. Looking at the napkin he wrote everything on and the door’s number and floor, twice, Izuku nodded patiently waiting till the door opened.  

What he should’ve expected but didn’t was the sudden body slam to the wall with unhealed injuries being squashed, and the gruff, stiff tone asking "Who the hell are you?!" ‘ Yep, should’ve expected that, no?’ Izuku thought looking at the yellow beady eyes that turned into slits the moment it saw a stranger at his door.  

“Ge-Gekkou, sir – Izuku – Izuku... the t-tutor...” With the sudden acknowledgment of his status, Gekkou put him down and promptly apologizes profusely for the sudden attack. If it weren’t for the sudden wave of nausea and pain blossoming behind his back Izuku would’ve just said it was fine. It was in fact not alright if he could feel his back feeling all wet and irritating.  

“Yep... I might need a moment... Do you perhaps have bandages laying around?” asked Izuku with red bleeding through his dark grey shirt. ‘What the -’ Before he could think Gekkou has since gone into action bringing forth a packet of bandages to help the ten-year-old that was bleeding a little too much from his back down.  

‘What did this kid just go through?’ and boy was a group of kids laughing at a video going viral about a quirkless kid falling down the stairs and into a pile of nails reaching 3.5 inches at most and bleeding from his back despite the boy's silent resistance from earlier.  

Yet here they were laughing at the person who was at the bottom of the food chain. The quirkless. Now, wasn’t the world just cruel? Especially, the kids , don’t you think so?

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Chapter Text

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୨風柱の前身୧

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

Izuku hissed and grunted as he bit into a piece of cloth as Gekkou got the boy bandaged and disinfected with warm water and soap. It burned – the discomfort of stuff entering what is basically a puncture wound is a world crime – and that was putting mildly tamed in Izuku’s vocabulary.

Gekkou seemed to be speaking to him – well – trying to but Izuku couldn’t for the life of him understand him; of course, he just had to get injured on the day he would tutoring, Izuku silently cursed those upperclassmen, and after addressing the wounds went to where he was told Inori should be.

Despite the silent protests, Gekkou seemed to be holding on, Izuku knocked on the little girl’s bedroom door and saw a puff of salmon-red hair peeking out from the door with yellow beady eyes like her father. Izuku, with a calm tone, spoke of who he was and what he needed to do first.

The girl’s eyes stared right through him, meanwhile, Izuku was internally panicking, and whatever the girl was looking for nodded with an odd shine in her eyes but who was he to judge? When entering her room - he could see small decorations like fairy lights and a lamp covering the room with little planets and stars around.

It was better than his bare rooms in his own home and when he eyed the coffee table in the middle of the room, Izuku settled the books he brought along for this. Looking at the eye that seemed to be assessing him, Izuku tilted his head to let the girl join him if she would like to, and if she didn’t well it would be harder to teach her, but it was doable.

“Inori, right? I’m Izuku – I'll be your tutor for now and in order to do anything I want to know where you are right now, characters and structures, such and such, if you don’t get it right it’s fine. I just want to know how much you know and we can go from there, okay?”

Which she nodded at – leaving Izuku to do most of the talking between the two but the moments she did talk were to ask questions that he didn’t mind her asking, “How many siblings do you have?” “Why do ‘nu’ and ‘me’ look so similar?” “Why is there ‘fu’ instead of ‘hu?’”

Izuku didn’t know the answer to many of them, but he did help her theorize why. Letting her wander off before bringing her back to the characters in the flash cards. The more Izuku studied her the more he was able to grasp where she was currently.

It didn’t seem she was much of a visual learner despite the flashcards in front of her and auditory was thrown very much out of the window when she heard him pronounce it and her lisp. However, Izuku didn’t falter and when he took out a packet of colored pencils and flashcards, he asked Inori to copy them.

She seemed confused but before she could start Izuku asked her to tap her pencil whenever she couldn’t get it. While she worked on that Izuku looked through what he had which – again by his standards wasn’t enough – but for others it was enough.

When he was first asked to help Itsumi, Izuku thanked his lucky stars the library allowed him in, and he went on a learning spree about education. There were thousands of ways for someone to learn but it all ties up to three groups, auditory where they learn better by speaking than writing.

Visual learners tend to learn better at seeing what is presented than hearing what is given and finally, tactile or kinesthetic which are more on the “hands-on” stuff meaning they learn better at writing them or making something to help remember such products.

Which Izuku feels is Inori’s problem, again, there are many learning styles, but these are the main three he could say he remembers looking at the most when researching the topic. When looking at Inori who was struggling to write the character “w(o)” he helped her with the stroke order and asked her to do it three more times much to her dismay.

But when he saw her eyes glimmering in joy about getting it right the next time and showing him, he knew it’d be worth it. Time passed by with Izuku explaining and showing her with visuals and colored flashcards putting the characters in their groups and separating them by color. Even with the lisp in her vocals, Izuku looked happy for her as she learned her characters.

There was a knock on her door where her father, Gekkou, peaking out the crack and tells both that time was up. Izuku nodded while Inori whined saying that she is learning right now and that it could wait a bit longer. However, Gekkou reasoned that Izuku needed to get home and that next time, which was a Thursday he would come back.

With childish hope, she squeezed her hands into fists and asked Izuku if it was true. Her pupils expanded reminding Izuku about the pre-quirk movie ‘Puss in Boots’ where the main character, that was a cat, pleaded to get out or ask for sympathy.

He pretended to think about it when seeing the little girl’s impatience running through, with a smirk, he lends forward and cupped his mouth like he was going to tell a secret. “Yes, yes I’ll be back but before that, I want to give you a goal, alright?”

“A goal...?” Inori tilted her head in confusion, wondering what this goal was, and what gold is he talking about. “I want you to keep these,” he pointed to his flashcards, “safe, okay? Repeat them to your father and if you don’t want to then paint them while sounding them out with music in the background, alright?” Inori nodded excitedly, “Really, I get to keep them?!”

Izuku nodded, ruffling her hair which urged her to whine when he “messed up my hair!” Izuku stood up stretching the limbs that were stiff and tried to crack his back, keyword tried, because the second he tried a fire burned his back causing him to pause his reaction.

It wasn’t enough to deteriorate the atmosphere unless you count Gekkou’s watchful eye, but the motion caught Inori’s eyes making her look up at her tutor. She asked, “Are you alright, Izuku-San?” He wouldn’t lie, he kept forgetting that kids aren’t as dumb as people think, they can remember, and sometimes see people’s emotions far better than anyone else.

“Yep, everything’s alright Inori but remember what I said, okay? I’ll be back Thursday to help, m’kay?” The turns, the hell, the fire that burned underneath his clothes did not alleviate the pain that was his punctured back.

He could see Inori’s eyes squinting; telling him that his bullshit lie was probably not believable at all. Which was a fair amount, Izuku could lie as much as he could to adults but when it came to kids? To kids like Kouki or Inori?

Just give him the world’s worst liar award already because he couldn’t - he shouldn’t - lie to their faces but damn it did he try to. He sighed while patting her head this time, “Seriously, Inori I’m fine, however, thank you for worrying. Now then, see you Thursday?” Izuku gave his best impression of a smile even going as far as raising an eyebrow to make it more believable.

Inori either didn’t notice it or shook it off but she nodded, speeding out of her room to do something else most likely. Izuku followed suit with Gekkou walking him out of the apartment but before he could leave, Gekkou shoved a pack of bandages to his arms, “I know we just met but who comes to someone’s home half bleeding out?”

Izuku huffed, taking his yellow backpack, and putting the bandages carefully in as well as the books that were a bit useless right now but who knows when they’ll be used again. “I don’t know, probably just me, anyways, same time Thursday?” Gekkou frowned but did not push any further, nodding along the question, and sending Izuku off. When Gekkou saw Izuku's figure getting smaller and smaller, he couldn’t help but mutter, “damn kid,” under his breath.

°• ⎯ あなたのために私は私の痛みを忘れます🍃࿐ೃ˙

Unbeknownst to Izuku or Inori, one started to play outside with her friends while the other met another kid who was older in age and had rainbow eyes. “Hey Kouki,” smiled Izuku with a soft gaze, “Big brother! Hello!” Kouki said with a dirty face like he’s been playing in the mud, Izuku couldn’t help but fuss about it and used a wet cloth – that he put under his water bottle – to clean his dirty face.

“Tsk. Tsk. Kouki make sure you clean yourself alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, big brother.”

Izuku just hummed while walking alongside Kouki as the fire underneath his clothes was pushed down for his sake – their sake – ‘I just hope I don’t get an infection, kami, I don’t even have medicine right now – I might need to stock up.’ thought Izuku as he walked to the convenience store with Kouki to get some drinks during this hot summer heat.

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Chapter Text

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୨風柱の前身୧

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When the words “knowledge has power” rang through Izuku’s ears he found truth in those words when he returned to tutor Inori. It started with an elderly couple asking him to tutor their grandchild, who was five, with their characters.

Simple enough.

Then a single mom with her eight-year-old daughter asked him to help her child understand her multiplications. The single mom had no education.

A boy in the fourth grade asked for his help understanding his social studies homework. A teenager, of all ages, asked him for help to understand the structure of a cell.

He was asked to “tutor” kids no older than thirteen the basics or higher levels concepts Izuku hadn’t been taught yet, which started to worry Izuku even if he did politely decline occasionally. This led him to be stumped right next to Inori who was making an “X は Y” sentence, she didn’t notice it right away but when she did, she frowned at Izuku because he was here, yet, not here at the same time if you know what she meant.

It was annoying.

He wasn’t paying any attention to her, and his compliments felt more half-hearted than usual! Like what you would give to someone you don’t like! Inori knew how obvious, in her eyes, Izuku said his compliments which sounded like a gentle wind under a warm summer heat. It held this softness that wouldn’t be easy to catch if you weren’t the one, he was complimenting, and Inori wanted to hear it again!

To hear that same warm, fuzzy tone that gave her these buttery feelings whenever she got something correct!

Inori stood up and pinched Izuku’s ear as she tugged it as hard as possible, “Izuku-Sensei! Pay attention! Please, what’s wrong, did someone hurt you? Do I need to kick balls? Why won’t you pay attention to me?

Or sound as happy as you should when I do something right? Did I do something? Oh, kami, was it me? Is it me? I’m sorry Izuku-Sensei for not learning fast enough and, and!” Izuku stopped her before she could self-deprecate herself by tugging her hand off slowly while he rubbed his ear.

It stung, ‘Ouch,' Izuku thought.

“No, no. You’re doing fantastic Inori, look you were finally able to write “w(o)” without making it look like a “chi,” and I’m so proud of you for doing so. It’s just something else but not to worry – you have my attention now; I promise I won’t be distracted again.” Izuku reassured her to the best of his abilities.

Inori looked at Izuku, childish suspicion running through her expression, "Pinkie swears?” Inori voiced while sticking her pinkie out and Izuku smiled softly, holding his own pinkie out, “Pinkie swears.” Izuku promised and watched as Inori showed off her big and scrawny characters, he couldn’t help but applaud her as she sang the vowels that she started to remember. It was Friday and in just "six" days she was able to remember her vowels!

Honesty, she’s smarter than what she gives herself credit for.

It made Izuku’s heart churn again about how proud she was when writing them out; her eyes shone so bright for something she could accomplish mainly on her own. And as Izuku was ready to leave, Gekkou knocked on the door informing Inori at this point, about Izuku’s departure.

Which led to her whining again and wondering if he’d come back and tutor her. How could he deny an innocent child’s curiosity? He nods and says, “Yes, I’ll be back again Inori, just wait for me on Tuesday and we’ll do something different alright?” A nod was his answer to his question and with that Izuku walked out of the apartment heading to the Jones down a floor.

The more he helped around the more his name got around with some rumours overlapping each other about him being a “teacher,” a “tutor,” a “big brother,” or just “Izuku-Sensei” – (courtesy of Inori for calling him that) – helping to tutor people that led to some parts of his schedule being overbooked and less free time because of the untimely favors being asked during Izuku’s time making his way home or to another apartment.

It left a bitter but solemn part of him to rise because if there was one thing Izuku hated besides shitty fathers was disorganization. The small pockets of air between his knuckles popped as soon as he cracked his knuckles. The tension left his hands momentarily as he knocked on the Jones’ door. He waited patiently outside, but the lure to pop his neck and back was very tempting.

It felt satisfying yet so distasteful. Izuku hated disorganization. He hated messes.

°• ⎯ 病気でもいつもあなたのために時間を作ってあげる 🍃࿐ೃ˙

Izuku’s sudden abundance of relief was cherished despite being in the library, having to be tucked away in a corner, and with a computer he could access, he could do great things if he did find a reason to. And boy, did he have so many reasons to be here, right now. At this moment very moment. Some of his reasons needed – scratch that, begging – for an answer. A simple,

“Yes, or no?”

Izuku rested his left foot on the long chair after getting it twisted and sprained while trying to run away from his bullies coming to get him and ruining his already exhausted day. Between staring at the calendar app and healthcare.com, Izuku was left to his thoughts about his future tutor career and the sudden requests for higher education level students.

He wanted to say ‘yes,’ he could do it. He would do it for them, but damn it was he tired of this ongoing messed-up routine.

He shouldn’t feel this tired – or exhausted – or semi-frustrated because of the wounds he kept accumulating without a fault. It got so bad that he started to push the pain away, even though he was already doing that, and forced himself to dismiss the burning questions of people he not only tutored but the parents as well that he was fine.

Okay.

Heck, Kouki was starting to notice the absolute pain he was in as he tried to take a step – a single step and had to hold in a wince due to the sprain.

He couldn’t remember having to feel this way since he was four! Four motherfucking years old! He followed a routine till he met Kouki, then Inori, and finally the people who were literally begging him for knowledge.

Education.

He was just ten! He didn’t want to advance because he didn’t want to help – he didn’t need to – but looking at their faces when he did agree, no matter how old or young they may be, look just the tiniest bit happier about learning something rather than being dismissed or yelled for, for something as basic education?

It really was hard to be selfish and say no.

Izuku pushed back his chair, facing the ceiling, he had a choice to make, a decision that could change his life and money. Thinking about it felt sickening to a part of him – if he went with the learning group – he would be skipping out on many hours of sleep because the learning group would be him scorning through the internet till, he was probably at high school level work.

Trust him, Izuku sometimes wonders how big is his intelligence, yet he knows if he tried to push said intelligence... He wouldn’t be in elementary – probably skip a grade level or two – or he could stay on the kid group – meaning he’ll follow the school’s learning path despite wanting to learn more.

To have more knowledge to get by and prove others wrong that the quirkless aren’t as useless as the internet or society says.

It was tough for Izuku to make a decision that could help so many people around him or be selfish and live whatever normalcy he could have, but when Izuku processed that thought, ‘normalcy,’ he couldn’t help but laugh at it out loud. (He was later told to be quiet by the librarian due to his inhumane laughter that scared the people around his area.)

Since when was his life ever normal? Even in a superhuman society?

Since when was normal a constant in his life? If he had a normal life, he would have a father that would love him. He would have a mother within his reach. He would have a quirk that was either the same or different than his parents. He wouldn’t have to deal with wounds or bruises, or undermining insults engraved on his stupid back.

He wouldn’t know the meaning of the spider lily. He wouldn’t have to be an all-out ‘fake it to you make it’ persona. He wouldn’t have to walk on a damn limp. No, he wouldn’t have misfortune after misfortune if he had a normal life. He wouldn’t have to push his body to its absolute limit for other people, other humans rather than himself...

With that realization in mind, Izuku knew well enough what he’d sacrifice if it meant others wouldn’t have to go through what he went through. So, they wouldn’t have to know the lingering gazes, words, and petals shaded in red.

If Izuku could at least make something as simple as learning tolerable for those who didn’t have the chance to learn, to study, to be educated? He’ll gladly lift that burden if it means more hope to blossom in the next few years or so because colours can be painted beautifully under a canvas but when it turns into an ugly shade underneath the skin – his skin – everything turns upside down.

Since the skin isn’t a canvas nor is the blood and bruises the paint to cover said canvas. It had to be hope, some sort of joy that Izuku didn’t know about, or he couldn’t remember feeling for a long time... a very long time.

However, you can say that purple, blue, yellow, and red look wonderful together.

No? Just me? Okay... I understand, “AKJUSMPBSRS.”

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