Chapter Text
All men are not created equal. For better or for worse, Izuku Midoriya was aware of that fact much sooner than anyone could expect. Perhaps, in another universe, he would have gone through hardships regarding his lack of quirk as his confidence shattered and find himself driven to the breaking point. Perhaps he would find a benefactor through his courage. Whether or not that benefactor would bring him any kind of true blessing is up for debate. But these are hypotheticals, worth a thought, but not the time. Izuku Midoriya knew that all men are not created equal, because he saw the repercussions of it, over and over again the moment his quirk first came. This is what this story is about. What happens when you know what is to come?
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“Mooooom” Izuku drags out the word with just enough letters to find his way to his mother folding clothes in the living room. “When will I get my quirk? Kachaan and my friends already got theirs, I want to start training to be a hero soon! Or I won’t be able to catch up to kachaan and if that happens, I will have less time for my studies to make up for lost time and- “. He keeps rambling until it’s intelligible to his mother, watching him with fond and slightly exasperated eyes.
“Izuku. Calm down. Take a deep breath.” Inko takes his hands and mimics a breathing motion she has used since he started talking, and consequentially, going on tangents “You need to breath. You’re still so young, there’s no need to rush. If you want – even if there’s no need – I can make an appointment- “
“YES!!!”
“-if you take it easy, eat all your vegetables and behave this week”
“I promise!”, he says jumping up and down on the couch
“Okay, okay” his mother chuckles “You can go to your room and watch videos on your computer until lunch if you want, I’ll still take a while here”
Less than a minute later, Izuku is watching his favorite All Mighty video, thinking about all the ways in which fire-breathing and telekinesis can combine to create a new, awesome quirk.
“-Not. I am here!” the man displayed in the computer screen says once again, and Izuku practices his own version with way more concentration than a child should have.
I can’t get it right, he thinks, my smile isn’t wide enough. As he moves away from the mirror to the computer in search of his reference, he bumps his elbow and sees the pencil case he used close to the table’s edge. Then everything goes white.
He is falling, he is not sure where he is falling from. So much pain, behind his eyes, around his skull. Too much, too much, too much. Has he hit the ground yet? He doesn’t know, or he knows too much? It’s confusing.
“People show their true colors when they are on the verge of death” “A real hero will always find a way for justice to be served” “You need to be realistic kid” “Problem child” “I’ll win without using his power” “Because it’s my turn now, and my turn will never end” “As long as people stand up to save each other”
Too much!
“Go take a swan dive off a roof” Wait. He knows this voice. Knows it too well. Well enough to recognize despite the different timbre. He fights through the noise and tries to focus on the voice, the same way he tries to focus on one voice when he eavesdrops, even though his mom doesn’t like him to. Abruptly, he was in a classroom. No, that’s not right, he was watching a classroom. There he was, older, thinner than he’d like. He was trembling and scared as kach- no. Bakugou, walked away laughing. This was his friend, but not his friend. He knew, instinctively, the circumstances that led to this moment. It felt like he was standing on river, and he could walk upstream. Then he walked.
He didn’t have a quirk. No, that’s not right, he hid his quirk. Everyone thinks he doesn’t have one. But why? He walks further upstream and he sees intersections, feels them more than sees them. As he walks, he sees how he got to that moment, the taunts and bruises. It hurts, but he needs to find the point. What point? He doesn’t know it yet.
After a while he finds himself. On the floor of his bedroom, and he knows it’s the moment he is in right now. He can see where he came from, like a path downstream on this metaphorical river. Metaphorical, did he know that word before? It doesn’t matter, not right now. He sees the path he came from, and a lot of others, some bigger than others. As he walks and lives the moments, he can see that each one is different. They are possibilities!
This must be his quirk! The excitement almost makes him forget what he saw. Almost. He realizes the place he comes from is different in the sense that he hid his quirk and continued living as quirkless. He remembers his teacher talking about seeing two pictures and finding the differences was important. So, he explores and spots the differences. He sees the there are two major paths where he didn’t hide his quirk. They each have a lot of small paths connected to the major events, but the milestones – the import events, he remembers – are the same. As he walks – as he sees and feels – he understands why there are more paths in which his quirk is hidden.
When he comes back to the present, his face is tear streaked, and his eyes are older and a few seconds have passed outside of his mind. He places his hand on the right place to catch the falling pencil case and lays on the ground for a while. He needs to talk to his mother.