[Volume 1, Chapter 2: Dawn Casts a Shadow on The Unfortunate]
Morning sun, bright and cheerful. Clear blue sky. White fluffy clouds. All the signs of a typical morning in the springtime in Japan with a small chance for rain. The sound of cars driving to and from work filled the busy streets within the city of Musutafu, which was wedged between the cities of Tokyo and Hosu, while still being a part of the greater Tokyo Prefecture.
Everyday civilians would walk down the sidewalks, approaching the train stations to get to their wanted destinations, young and old people alike. Crowded streets with cars trying to get ahead of one another, only to fail and be stuck behind yet another seemingly incompetent driver—that was why walking was seen as the better way of transport.
Multiple towering buildings of all varying purpose lined the sidewalks. Some were only a single storey, others had multiple. Some were meant for business, others held apartments, and even a scarce few were abandoned due to the building owners neglecting them. Like most other cities, Musutafu was home to several schools, but the one that was the most important right now was a little known elementary school called Sunshine Elementary.
The school wasn't really well known outside of those who lived in the poorer and lower middle class ends of the city. Not that the children who went to that school noticed. The staff there did their best to teach the children, even if they were mostly unruly. Those who were aware of the school had called it "the school for trouble makers" primarily due to the fact that those who come from it usually wind up being delinquents.
It was primarily a coincidence, though. But it didn't help when most of the kids there were always running around and constantly causing trouble for the less involved ones. One such case was a young boy with dark green hair, minding his own business, playing in the playground's sandbox.
The boy was dressed in a yellow shirt, a pair of brown shorts, ankle-high black socks and red and black runners. His skin was as pale as a ghost, though that was due to a genetic condition. His hands were clawed, and his crimson red eyes were sharp like a cats. He barely stood at four feet tall, and his aforementioned dark green hair was bushy and all over the place—like a shrub.
Izuku Midoriya, which was the boy's name, sat in the sandbox, moulding the sand to take the shape of a rough-looking tower that would eventually become a castle, all the while everyone else in his class was off swinging on monkey bars, sliding down slides, chasing each other in games of tag...
A part of him wanted to join in on the fun. But Izuku knew how he would be received.
He was an outcast.
No one wanted to be friends with him, because he was "scary-looking." Most people weren't as pale as he was, even in a Quirked society like the one he lived in. His claws were unusually sharp, so he found himself accidently scratching people with them, which didn't help his reputation much.
His eyes didn't help things, either. They were always so "intense" as one teacher put it. As if he was trying to glare a hole into something or someone. Even now, with his downcast demeanour, his eyes didn't really "relax" or "mellow out". They were always in a constant state of "pointed" and "alert."
As a result, he was often left alone. Not because he wanted to be alone, but because no one wanted to be near someone like him. No one wanted to hang around someone who was so "scary." Which was dumb in his opinion. There was a boy with a reptile face in the third grade right now, and Izuku thought he was scarier!
Not that it particularly mattered anymore. Izuku had accepted a long time ago that he was going to be alone for a majority of his school life.
Or, at least, that was what he wished to be the case. Just because he was left alone by people who he might to have wanted to be friends with, that didn't mean he was left completely alone.
"Oi, freak," a high-pitched yet also rough sounding voice spat behind him as Izuku looked over his shoulder. Spikey, explosive blonde hair, ruby red eyes, cream-coloured skin. All the defining traits of Bakugo Katsuki, of whom was dressed in a blue shirt with an explosive icon on the front and similar shorts to Izuku. "Get outta my sandbox."
"It's not your sandbox, though?" Izuku said, which prompted Bakugo to grab Izuku by the back of the collar and fling him out, causing Izuku to tumble for a few seconds and bonk his head against a nearby tree. Izuku hissed, a hint of pain in his voice as he rubbed the back of his head. He watched as Bakugo kicked over his work-in-progress sand castle, before laughing and running off.
Izuku stared, watching with mounting frustration. It was always like this. Even when he wanted to be alone, Bakugo Katsuki was always there to "put the freak in his place". That was all he was. A freak. He was a freak because of his appearance.
What was worse was that the teachers never did anything to correct his attitude. After all, he was "blessed" with a powerful Quirk, and it was "their job to ensure his bright future." He had caught them saying that to each other whenever someone would mention that Bakugo was being a jerk.
They had no intention of teaching him a lesson.
"Jerks…" Izuku thought as he came to his feet, brushing himself off, rubbing his arm as the bruise that had begun to form disappeared. It had been something he had learned that his body could do when he was very little—around the age of a toddler when he accidently cut his finger on a piece of paper. Which was rather bizarre.
See, Izuku's Quirk was, for the lack of a better word, weird. He had clear mutations with his eyes, skin, and claws—even his sharp and strong teeth. All clear signs that his Quirk would be mutant in nature. But then he also displayed Transformation-Type Quirk capabilities with his regeneration. Although, those two Quirk types were often paired together, so it wasn't all that bizarre.
However, it did get bizarre when you realize that neither his mother Inko, who's Quirk allowed her to bring small objects toward her using a weak form of telekinesis and his father Hisashi, who's Quirk allowed him to breath fire, had nothing in common with Izuku's Quirk.
It was that detail—him having a mutant Quirk—which caused his father to leave his mother when Izuku was three years old. Despite having similar facial features to him, and despite having the same hair growth, his father refused to believe that Izuku was his child. The only reason why they got child support from him was because a judge had ordered a DNA test and, shock to absolutely nobody, Hisashi was his father.
Not that his mother cared about that fact anymore. She had been done with him the moment the accusation came falling out of his face. Still, it was sad that their otherwise happy marriage had been broken apart by Quirkism. Izuku felt slightly responsible for what happened, if not entirely.
Not that he would ever mentioned that to his mother. The last thing he wanted was for her to be upset. She was already worried enough as it was, what with her having to consider taking up two jobs to support them. That was another thing about Izuku. He was more emotionally intelligent then most—able to pick up on minor things such as the twitch of an eye or a raising of the shoulder. It allowed him to get a better picture of the kind of person he was dealing with.
It was why he was so frustrated with Bakugo. Every action he performed was out of malice. Hate. Anger. All aimed toward the poor fool who happened to be in his way. Yet, he wanted to be a hero.
What kind of hero would take their anger out against those who didn't deserve it?
Izuku didn't know. But what Izuku did know, however, was that All Might would never act that way.
As he walked away from the sandbox, knowing full well that if he went back to it Bakugo would turn around and heckle him some more, Izuku went back toward the building. The teacher, who had seen the altercation, simply stared and said nothing as he walked past them.
"One day…" Izuku thought, his right hand balling into a fist. "One day, I'll show you. I'll show you all."
The rest of the day played out like every other day. Learn basic language skills that Izuku already knew because of his mother and his ability to pick up on things quickly, quiet reading time, and watching the daily show and tell—it was some kid named Kasuka's turn and he was showing off his limited edition Endeavor action figure.
When school was let out, Izuku walked home—not because his mother forgot to pick him up, but because they didn't have a car and his mother was more than likely just getting home from work; either that or she was just arriving at home. Besides, the elementary school was only a five minute walk from the apartment they lived in. His mother had enough trust in him and enough belief in him that he could get home safely.
The apartment building that he lived in was twelve story's tall, each with three apartments on every floor. The building itself was a muddy brown colour, and it was one of a group of three buildings—he lived in the first building. There was an outdoor staircase that took the person climbing it to the desired floor, which for Izuku was the top floor.
Upon reaching the top floor of the apartment building, he walked down the outdoor hallway/balcony, his expression blank as he approached his apartment door, 1204, and looked under the welcome mat sat in front of the door. There, sitting under the mat was a golden key. Picking up the key and inserting it into the front door, Izuku twisted the key to the left and upon hearing a click, Izuku removed the key and slipped it back under the mat.
Opening the door, Izuku stepped inside of the apartment and closed the door behind him, locking it just as his mother instructed that he do if he ever found himself home alone. He once heard that it was bad for a child below the age of thirteen being home alone, but more often then not, that was his reality. Not because his mother didn't care, but because his mother cared too much—so much so to the point where she'd pull double shifts to make sure they had enough money to survive.
In times like these, when he had a feeling his mother would be running late, Izuku would eat whatever leftovers there was, watch the TV until his mom came home or for a few hours—whichever happened first—then go to his room and teach himself how to do higher forms of education.
Why did he do that? Because he loved to learn. He loved to take notes. He loved to study. When he was born, the doctors had said that he had extra brains and extra hearts—not functional but also harmless. However, he was convinced they did do something because he had always wanted to learn. Even when he was a baby. According to his mom, he was always watching shows that were more learning based then the normal slop that someone like Bakugo would watch.
His favourite hero was All Might—then again, everyone's favourite hero was All Might—but after that his favourite hero was Thirteen, the space hero. Why? Because on top of being a hero, she was an astronaut and often taught lessons on TV. Those lessons were about physics and other extremely high calibre material reserved for final year students in high school.
Yet, Izuku always loved tuning into those when he was a toddler. Not that he understood what they were saying because of his infantile mind, but it was a start. He attributed that early development in his attitude part of the reason why he wanted to learn so much. Because he was exposed to it. It also helped that his mother was always on him to learn how to speak, how to walk, and how to play.
A perfect example of this was that he was ahead of everyone in learning how to write. He could write whole paragraphs with, admittedly, only a few mistakes. But everyone else was still learning basic hiragana. Meanwhile Izuku was leagues ahead of them. Once he was able to write a whole paragraph in hiragana with no mistakes, he'd be allowed to learn Kanji.
As for the apartment that Izuku lived in with his mother, it wasn't all that big. There was an entry hallway that broke off into a miniature closet that held coats and shoes. Ahead of that there was a joint dining room and living room split down the middle with the dark brown fabric couch being the dividing piece. Across from the split living room and dining room was the kitchen, which was adorned with several cupboards, a stove with an oven, a fridge with a freezer attached, an aluminum sink, and, of course, with some counter space.
There was a hallway off to the right of the kitchen and in that hallway was a bathroom with a standing shower, and beside the bathroom was his mothers bedroom. Across from his mothers bedroom was his bedroom, but aside from that, there wasn't much else about his apartment. It wasn't much, but it was home.
Taking his shoes off at the front door, Izuku stepped past the divot between the entrance and the rest of the apartment, and ran to his room. His bedroom was what one would expect from the room of a child; posters of his favourite heroes, a toy box filled with action figures, a dresser for his clothes, and a single sized bed with All Might themed coverings. There was also a desk off in the corner with writing and drawing supplies. There was a can full of pencils, a stack of papers, and a can full of coloured pencils, all of which were kept to the left corner of the desk.
Izuku made a beeline to his desk, pulled out the chair, hopped up on it, and sat down. Every day, after school, he always dedicated at the bare minimum a half an hour of practicing his Hiragana and Kanji, with at most giving himself an hour. Then, until his mother would come home, he'd draw whatever came to mind.
Although, his last few drawings were…. Strange.
Izuku was a talented drawer. He wasn't the greatest—he was only five years old after all—but his drawings were still good for someone his age. He was comparable to the drawing skill of a talented artist… in the second grade. Which, mind you, was better than the other kids in his grade. He wasn't drawing stick figures and scribbling. He had basic fundamentals and he knew depth and perception. He wasn't amazing, mind you, but he could draw a decent enough cityscape for a kid his age.
That was beside the point, though. His point was the last few drawings that he had been doing were bizarre. It depicted a battle. It was in Tokyo, and all the buildings were drawn to look like something from the early industrial era of Japan. In the drawing, several brightly coloured individuals wielding blades fought against a man with many mouths on his body with flailing thin tendrils.
He had drawn that exact scene for the last six times he had come home. It had been burned into his mind, and he had no idea why. But with each attempt at drawing it, he was able to flesh out more details. He wasn't great, and some of the parts were still sloppy, primarily how the people looked, but when he put his pencil to paper, he felt as if he was drawing out something that he had witnessed.
It was odd, and it bothered him. So, he reasoned that if he drew it out, it would go away. But the image persisted, alongside the aching feeling of failure. He didn't know why that was, but it was extremely annoying and frustrating.
Time slipped through his fingers as he finished the landscape of the scene in his head when he heard the front door close, followed by his mother calling out to him. Putting his pencil down, Izuku leapt off the chair, a smile on his face as he opened his bedroom door and ran over to his mother, who was standing in the entrance.
Inko Midoriya was a lot like Izuku, at least when it came to her hair. It was bright green with black roots, and it reached down to the center of her back, flowing out like a waterfall. She had cream coloured skin, and emerald green eyes. Her figure was cut slim, and she was dressed in a black business suit and a matching black business skirt that stopped just below her knees.
His mother worked at The Manual Agency as a receptionist—a new hero agency based in Hosu, which was a quick Bullet Train ride from Musutafu. Prior to that, she had worked at Genius Office as the same thing, but was laid off after seven years of working there.
It wasn't because of anything that she had done, but because it was expensive to go back and forth, and Best Jeanist knew that it would've been better if she had gotten a job at a different Agency that was much closer to home—he had even gone out of his way to hook her up with The Manual Agency, since it needed a receptionist! It was awfully kind of him.
"Mom!" Izuku exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her torso as he crashed into her, nearly causing her to go off balance.
"Whoa, Izuku!" Inko cried in shock before catching her balance and embracing him. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she lifted Izuku into her arms. "Sorry for being late. I was caught up in work…"
"It's okay!"
"Izuku…"
"Can we have dinner soon? I'm really hungry."
"Yes, Izuku, we can have dinner soon," Inko lowered Izuku to the ground, ruffling the mop-like hair on his head. "Let me get settled and I'll make some delicious katsudon!"
"Yeah!"
With help of Izuku, dinner was severed in no time. Katsudon, one of Izuku's favourite dishes since he could chew solids. After a brief "thank you" to Kami for allowing them to eat that day, they both dug in.
It's said that, between the ages of four to six, children will begin to experience their Quirk come into being. Sometimes, they need a trigger to awaken for the first time. Others simply exist as they naturally would.
When Izuku was born, his Quirk was more pronounced than others. His ability to regenerate, even if only a tiny amount, was significant since those kinds of Quirks were extremely rare. Although, it wasn't all that flashy or interesting. A cause of ridicule beyond his spooky appearance.
However, what no one, not even Izuku knew, was that it was just the beginning of his powers.
That said, a catalyst would need to happen in order for him to discover said powers.
And that catalyst was now.
As soon as he finished eating his beloved Katsudon, his stomach growled, as if upset. Inko looked at Izuku, eyebrow raised as Izuku covered his mouth, his pupils dilating.
"Izuku?"
Before Inko could get up and walk over to him to see what was wrong with him, Izuku bent over and vomited, barely digested food and bile spewing all over the hardwood floor as Inko rushed over to be by his side. It wasn't long before he was finished, when not even a second later…
Izuku passed out in her arms.