Are people born equal?
No.
Perhaps an argument could be made if we lived in a world without supernatural abilities, without this definitive birthright that made one superior over another in the eyes of society. Perhaps without any powers that give kids the strength of a god, later either worshipped or feared by the masses as they grow older. Perhaps, if everyone had no Quirks, there would be no heroes. No villains. All would be equal.
But it was useless to think of such a fictional world. Something like that would be pure fantasy. Even then, surely mankind would find another way to uphold the structural hierarchy of the rich and poor, the strong and weak, the useless and useful.
If you had a powerful and flashy quirk, you were destined to become someone who mattered. If you had a basic quirk, you were nobody.
Not to mention if you had no quirk. Seen as a birth defect, similar to being disabled or crippled in the eyes of the world. If you were quirkless, nothing you did mattered, you had no worth, no privileges or rights. Nothing.
Since the discovery of quirks around two centuries ago, society has shifted into a hierarchy of worth, not merit. In the modern day, the government claims there is no such thing as significance based on quirk. However, if you were to interact with a stranger with whom you knew nothing about, there would always be one universal question that could apply to 80% of the population.
What is your quirk?
Even if one were to randomly ask a citizen who the most known and most popular people are, only one word would come to mind: Heroes. The pillars of society, bravely defending the less fortunate souls who weren't blessed with a good quirk.
If one wanted to argue there was no equality, the biggest piece of evidence would be our sworn protectors themselves. They claim to use their abilities for good, however if you asked the same question to any citizen in the Hoshigata area, the answer would be entirely different. The truth is, there were no heroes. Not for the people of Hoshigata.
Instead of being blessed with a good quirk, the people in that area were cursed with being born in a small, beatdown city. There wouldn't be a single hero in sight, after all, no cameras or crowds record them and get them more attention from the media. Villains ran rampant, keeping just low enough to stay off the radar whilst taking control of the entire city. There was no one to stop them, thus the people lost hope, succumbing to their control, turning a blind eye whenever they saw illegal drug and arms dealing and hustling people down for money.
The villains took over fast, quickly normalizing these events. The most unfortunate thing about these thugs wasn't even that they had particularly strong quirks, but that no one had the strength to oppose them.
After the first group of villains appeared and took over, many other gangs followed, each one vying for dominance and control of the small town, wanting to turn it into their own hidden base of operations. The fighting was nonstop. Each day, the pile of dead kept staking up.
=====================================================
6 years ago. Hoshigata East Park.
"Get that kid!"
"Make him pay!"
The sun beat down on cracked pavement. In an abandoned park on the edge of the broken city district, a boy, no older than ten, threw his weight into a wild punch. It connected with another kid's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt.
Two more tried to tackle him from behind, wrapping their arms around his waist and heads smashed into his back. Their quirks activated, one with rock-looking fists, the other with sparks crackling down his arms, but the boy twisted, grabbing each head, and slammed them into each other with sheer brute force.
"Come on, freak!" the fourth shouted, a low-grade flame flickering from his fingertips as he lunged. The flame burst for a second before going out weakly into the air.
The boy ducked under the swing and rammed his shoulder into the kid's gut, grabbing his arms around the attacker's waist and slamming him hard into the dirt.
All four were down.
Bruised, groaning, and crying.
The boy stood there panting, blood dripped from his knuckles. He could feel the cuts and scratches the blood poured from.
His breath was ragged, fist trembling. His punches had been far too reckless.
"That's right! You jerks better watch yourselves next time, or else I'll beat your asses all over again!" The boy exclaimed.
The rest of the kids ran off crying, muttering threats of revenge through their tears, leaving the boy alone as he held his hands to calm the pain.
He staggered backwards, slumping into a nearby tree. He winced as his back scratched the rough bark through his torn, dirty shirt. His vision was blurry, his spiking heart slowing calming down as the distance between him and his stumbling attackers increased.
The boy looked down at his hands once more, noticing there was no sign of the blood slowing down.
'Damn it,' he thought, 'if I go home now, Mom's gonna freak.'
He pushed himself to his feet, turned to walk away from the park.
And then… a voice.
"Sloppy form," the voice was deep and harsh, stepping out from the shade of a rusted jungle gym. "But not bad for a kid with no training."
The boy stiffened. He hadn't noticed the man before. Tall, worn coat, scarf around his neck, eyes sharp but sunken and built like a boulder. He looked like a washed-up old man on steroids or an retired soldier who'd wandered into the wrong part of town.
The boy said nothing.
The man walked closer and tilted his head at the four boys who were slow to run away in the distance.
"They your friends? You get into an argument or something?"
The boy narrowed his eyes. His mom always told him not to talk to strangers but for some reason, his gut told him that something was different about this old man.
"They're not my friends, just a buncha idiots who think they can bully someone just cuz their quirks are a little cool" the boy spat with venom just remembering their existence.
The man stared at him for a second, before grinning and reaching for his left pocket, pulling out a roll of bandages.
"Here, use this for your wounds."
The boy stared at the bandages before quickly snatching it and wrapping it around his hands roughly.
"So, why didn't you use your quirk? Would've even the odds" The man pointed out.
"Does it matter? They were weak enough that I didn't need to." he shot back quickly.
The man simply rubbed his chin between his thumb and index fingers.
"S'pose you're not wrong. From my point of view, you're also pretty weak kid," the man smirked, "you've got natural strength but I can tell you haven't got any real training."
The boy looked at the man, face scowling, "The hell you care old man? I won, that means I'm strong, nothing else matters. If they come again, I'll beat them up again and again!"
"Hmm, is that so?" the man put on a pondering face, "And what if they come back with more of their friends, someone much older or with a stronger quirk?"
"...I-I'll still kick their asses," the boy sounded unsure before regaining his fire, "cuz if I don't, they'd just beat me up and think it's okay to walk over anyone if they're weak!"
The man paused before letting out a ferocious roar that the boy figured to be a laugh.
"Alright! I've decided. What's your name kid."
"...It's Kai." Despite not feeling in danger, Kai only told him his first name as he decided to be a little cautious.
"Well Kai, you've got spirit. Raw and undisciplined spirit. And I have a feeling this isn't the first time you've beaten the snot outta those kids and that this won't be the last. If you're gonna fight, you might as well learn how to do it right."
Kai blinked. "Huh?"
"You deaf kid? I said I'll teach you how to fight. And how to stop throwing your punches like a wild animal."
Kai didn't question that the man knew how to fight, after all, he was built like a brick. However, he narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Cuz I'm a nice guy."
Kai's eyebrow twitched. "Bullshit. Why do you care? And as far as I know, you're just some weirdo old geezer who hangs around parks for kids."
The man turned his head just enough to show the faintest grin. "Nah. I just hate watching punks who think they're the shit and stomp all over people."
"…You a hero or something?"
"Used to be," the man said, starting to walk away. "Now I just help the ones everyone else forgot."
He stopped, turning back slightly.
"Name's Knuckleduster."
The boy didn't move.
"You coming or not?"
The boy looked down at his bruised fists… then back at the trail of footsteps the man was leaving.
He followed.