Chapter Text
Shota dragged himself awake at far too early in the morning, stumbling out of bed and through his morning routine barely half awake. He finally stumbled to the kitchen table in his spare jumpsuit, reaching a hand out blindly for the mug Hizashi deposited in it.
The new problem children were going to put him in an earlier grave. He'd been called upon to settle a fight yesterday that had ended with some of Mina's acid – fortunately low-grade – all over his jumpsuit and… oh, no.
"Hizashi, are my boots still melted?" Shota asked his coffee cup despairingly.
Hizashi hummed an affirmative, flipping a pancake cheerfully. Too cheerfully. Shota squinted at him slightly, trying to learn his secrets. He suspected his secrets included a decent amount of naturally cheerful genetics, plus students who weren't actively encouraged to use potentially destructive quirks every day.
Shota had extra jumpsuits. About half his wardrobe was repeats of his hero uniform, because accidents happened, and laundry was a thing. Hizashi also had a decent number of uniform duplicates, though he had far more normal street clothes than Shota.
Shota did not have extra boots.
Carefully, Shota swept his coffee cup to one side. Then, he dropped his forehead to the table with a resounding thud.
"Aw, don't be like that, Sho! I'm sure you've got something you can wear!"
Too many exclamation points. It was too early in the morning for that many exclamation points. Shota let out a long, drawn-out groan, forehead still pressed into the table. Then, he sat up and drained his coffee in one go. Time to hunt through his closet.
The saddest part, Shota thought, staring at the meagre offering of shoes he owned, was that he had the same shoe size as Hizashi. If he'd only had normally shaped feet, he wouldn't have to pick the least terrible option.
There was a pair of custom golden high heels. They had been made for an… interesting undercover mission. They had, of course, been custom made to fit his feet and each shoe had a dagger built into the heel with a release mechanism that turned the heels into flats. No matter what Nemuri said, though, heels were not appropriate for hero wear.
A set of his boots had been made to fit on a normal person's foot of the same size as his. Honestly, Shota would rather wear Hizashi's shoes. The boots had originally been made to get Shota close to a woman who had a quirk that let her notice minute details. She'd also had an immense hatred of the quirkless – or anyone that didn't fit in the societal mold. The boots had never been used after that mission.
Finally, there was a set of dress shoes. They had thick, inflexible soles that clopped loudly on the floor and always made Shota want to tear his own hair out. And they looked stupid, in his humble opinion.
Shota sighed heavily, sinking his nose into his capture weapon. He could not go to school shoeless. Really. Absolutely not.
He cast a last desperate glance at his closet and paused. In the back shadows, a bright red toe poked out from under a t-shirt he never wore. Shota leaned forward and tugged out a pair of bright red Primordial shoes.
They weren't the ones his sisters had made. He had grown out of those years ago. These ones, Hizashi had embroidered for him. Yellow spider-lilies in intricate detail, almost three-dimensional, stood out on the red canvas shoes that had almost never been worn.
Shota surveyed his options one last time. High heels, dress shoes, normal boots... or these. It was a no-brainer really.
It felt a bit strange to wear Primordials again. Not at all physically, since they fit him just the same as his tailor-made boots did, but more… socially.
He got side-eyes from everyone. People standing on the street, waiting for the train, or sitting across from him. Some people crossed the street to keep away from him. Some people crossed the street to walk directly past him or even follow him for several blocks. A couple times it was only Shota's quick reflexes that stopped him from getting tripped or shoulder checked. Most likely, it was only Hizashi's presence that stopped an all-out fight from breaking out.
Had the world gotten less tolerant of the quirkless since Shota had stopped wearing Primordials? Surely Kiken or Ikari would have told him if it had. Surely.
Finally, both of them turned into UA's gates and Shota breathed a mental sigh of relief. But it wasn't over yet.
Students stopped in the halls. Every time someone paused to stare and then turn and whisper to their friends, Shota's heart twisted. This was UA. It was run by Principal Nedzu, who was probably the most anti-discriminatory political figure in all of Japan. UA was supposed to be different.
Nobody bothered Shota. Nobody would dare, not with him being a teacher with his reputation and the glare already fixed on his face. But they watched. And they whispered. Shota was sure that Nedzu was already working on it, lurking behind his computer screen with cameras catching every angle of UA and microphones picking up every disparaging comment.
Halfway through the long walk to his office, Shota decided he was glad. Weeding out the quirkist students now would protect the students that couldn't defend themselves and maybe even people in the future that weren't at all associated with UA. So, Shota kept walking, bright red shoes like a beacon in his all-black outfit. Bright yellow embroidery a message only he could read.
Except apparently not.
"Sensei!" Midoriya called, and Shota half-turned to look at him.
"Sensei, can I talk to you?" He was holding a notebook like it was his only lifeline, and his eyes kept darting downwards.
Shota followed his gaze to two pairs bright red shoes. His own, with elaborate spider-lilies embroidered on them… and Midoriya's. Realization slammed into Shota like a bullet train. Why hadn't he realized- because Midoriya had a powerful quirk, a quirk so powerful it broke his own bones, and false negatives were never that powerful.
"I think that would be a good idea, yes."
Shota ushered Midoriya into his office and waved for him to sit down.
"Sensei, I wanted to ask about, ah, if you know-"
"I thought I was quirkless until I was thirteen," Shota cut through the kid's nervous stuttering. "My husband embroidered the spider-lilies."
"Oh, uh- what… what do the spider-lilies mean?"
Shota blinked slowly. Surely, surely if there was anyone who would know literally everything about whatever demographic he happened to be in, it would be Midoriya.
"Midoria-kun, have you heard of The Empty Chairs?"
"That… doesn't sound familiar, sorry sensei, I don't- I don't know."
Shota sighed, dropping into his chair. "The Empty Chairs is an online community for the quirkless, false negatives, and false positives. The-"
"There's more!?" Midoriya squeaked, then hurried to backtrack, "I mean- sorry, Sensei, I didn't- I didn't mean to interrupt."
Shota lifted a single eyebrow. "More?"
"Ah, yes, Sensei." Midoriya looked away, down at his shoes, "I- I couldn't find any when I was- when I first got diagnosed, so- so I uh… I made my own. It's not- not a whole website, though, just- just a discord server."
"That was logical," Shota admitted. "It's important for people like us to have a good support structure." In fact, it was the same thing his own mother had done to create The Empty Chairs.
"If you want, I can get you into The Empty Chairs," Shota said. "I would suggest you send out a server-wide notification."
Shota leaned over, digging through the drawers in his desk. He knew he had it in there somewhere, a keepsake from Ikari's Red Lily after it had been shut down.
"Here." He finally pulled out the wooden sign with the stylized Red Lily painted on it, "Send a picture of this to the server. Any establishment with this symbol on it will be openminded about this sort of thing. Tell them to head to a Red Lily and ask for Tenshi-sensei. Any Red Lily."
Midoriya was staring at the painted wood, a tumultuous expression on his face.
Shota furrowed his eyebrows, slightly concerned. "If you don't want to take my word for it-"
"Oh, no, Sensei, I believe you, it’s just- I don't know if… they will."
"I can call my sister," Shota offered, "She's quirkless, and she can vouch for anything you need to confirm."
"No, not- not like that, Sensei!" Midoriya waved his hands hastily, "You're just… a big name on the server."
"Me? Since when?"
Midoriya shrugged and looked away. Shota lifted his eyebrow slightly, looking the kid over. He looked… embarrassed.
"Midoriya-kun…"
"Here!" and suddenly Shota had a phone thrust into his face. He eased it out of the kid's hand, holding it farther away so he could actually focus on the screen.
There was a discord server pulled up on the screen, the background dark. The icon of the server was a stylized digital drawing that was unmistakably him. The name of the server was 'Those Who Come Pre-erased'. There was a text channel and an images channel dedicated to 'IRL Eraserhead Sightings'. There was another of each dedicated to 'Secondhand Eraserhead Sightings'. There was a channel labeled 'Eraserhead Fanart'.
Shota looked up. Midoriya's whole face was bright red, and he refused to make eye contact. Shota looked back down. He tapped a channel.
There was a blurry image of himself, clearly taken with a terrible phone camera from far away, leaping across a gap between buildings. Above it was a similar image. Above that was a faraway shot of a vague black-and-gray blob that was honestly probably him crouching in front of a cat. Actually, he remembered that cat, it was definitely him.
Shota opened his mouth, then closed it again. What. What the heck. Oh no. He had feelings now. They were welling up in his chest like the part of him that wanted to give others hope. They felt weird and Shota didn't like them. Was this what Limelight heroes felt like all the time? He hated it. …He was glad the quirkless community his mother had missed still had someone to look up to.
Shota cleared his throat, then finally managed to say something. "You said you made this?" His voice was just as tired and monotone as usual, and he took a moment to internally thank his mother for teaching him to keep his poker face.
"Ah, yeah- yes, Sensei." Midoriya stammered, face somehow turning even brighter red.
"Alright, my point still stands." Shota pushed the phone back to Midoriya, tapping the wooden board. "You don't have to tell them it came from me. You can credit my sister if you want. Her name is Aizawa Kiken and she lives to take credit for my achievements."
"Yes, of course, Sensei, I'll make sure to tell them!" Midoriya babbled, fumbling with his phone to take a picture of the Red Lily symbol.
"And kid?" Shota added, "The yellow spider-lilies are for false negatives. Only recognized by the community. Black laces for offered protection, yellow embroidery to show you have a quirk."
Midoriya's gaze darted to Shota's shoes. Black laces, yellow flowers.
"I- thank you, Sensei."
And then he was gone. Shota breathed a silent sigh, unfathomably relieved that he didn't have to deal with the infamous Midoriya tears. He sat back in his chair for a long moment before pulling out his phone.
He had a dedicated fanbase consisting of a discord server solely for the Quirkless. Slowly, a Cheshire grin spread across his face. Kiken was never going to believe this. Shota wondered how much he could get her to bet that it was a lie.