2 Years
It takes 2 years for Izuku to adapt to his new world. Two years of learning to read again, learning to breathe, learning to block out the world to only what he needed.
His mother has been amazing, adapting their home and their life to his needs. He can’t exactly read and write like he used to. Instead, his mother buys him any books she can in braille, devices to help him use the computer and read articles online, and even a small braille writer so he can still do his analysis. And when he finally explained what he understood of his newfound powers, she listened and believed him fully.
After several careful analyses of his new… abilities, Izuku learned that all of his remaining senses were heightened. He can taste things in the air, even what is on another person’s breath from several feet away. Smells have taken on a new potency and he has a mental catalog of the new ones he’s been able to identify. His hearing has only sharpened further since the hospital and the healing from Dr. Nishinoya. He can hear people talking several stories below their apartment, sirens across the city, cries and yells from everyone in Musutafu. And his sense of touch, that may be worse than his hearing. His skin aches like his nerves are overly sensitive, short circuiting each time his clothes move wrong or his mother brushes his hair back.
It takes learning several breathing methods and intense meditation for Izuku to learn to block the world out. It helps, but only to an extent. He still hears things he shouldn’t, tastes and smells repugnant things, and can only wear specific clothing, but overall he has it under fairly control. It’s actually helpful at this point. With his senses he can “see” in his own way. He forms pictures in his mind based on vibration patterns, scents and tastes, what he hears of other people's clothes and things on their person. He can visually paint a picture for himself. He’s even started being able to identify people based on their heartbeats.
He doesn’t need the standard white cane that he’s been provided, instead preferring to use his senses to guide him through the world. Although, he learns early on that it’s better to put on the act of being blind than it is to use his new abilities. The only time he fully uses them is when he’s home, where he’s with the one person who understands.
The most astounding ability that he’s discovered so far can be attributed to his hearing.
He can hear quirks.
Well, that may be an overstatement.
He can hear the vibrations of a quirk in use.
Right now, he’s able to tell when someone is using their quirk if he’s close enough to them. Each quirk has a distinct frequency specific to the person, almost as special as the quirk itself.
From the research Izuku’s done, with the nursing textbooks he can get his hands on from his mom and the vast, beautiful internet at his fingers, he believes it may have to do with the nervous system.
See, scientists discovered early on that quirked individuals had more nerves than those who were quirkless. They were specialty nerves involved in the activation and use of their quirk. Quirks are integrated into every aspect of the body, and like any part of the body that requires a signal from the brain to be activated, quirks require nerves. Nerves fire because they reach a specific electricity voltage which causes them to send their signal to the next nerve, the pattern continuing until the message reaches the part of the body that it needs to. So when the nerves specific to quirk use fire, they let off a special hum that Izuku can hear. He can hear the electricity of someone's nervous system as they activate their quirk just like he can hear electricity humming through the walls of his apartment.
That had taken him months of testing and research to understand. Quirk science was fascinating, but a little dense for even an intelligent twelve-year-old to sort through.
But now, besides heartbeats, taste, or smell, Izuku identifies the people around him based on the frequency at which their quirk hums.
His mother is a beautiful D6, vibrating at about 1,174 hertz when she uses her quirk. The tone is clear, higher in pitch and makes Izuku’s heart sing when he hears it. It means that his mom is nearby.
Kacchan’s quirk is low and powerful, it vibrates nearly constantly with how he sweats nitroglycerin to create his explosions. He sits at a deep F2, a constant buzz in the back of Izuku’s mind in class or at school.
Kacchan.
Bakugou Katsuki.
While his friend had survived the villain attack with only a few chemical burns and a lung infection, their relationships had changed after.
The two of them were put in therapy after Katsuki had shown up to Izuku’s hospital room with sparking hands and loud screaming about being a “Deku”.
During that time, it had been revealed that the nitroglycerin of Kacchan’s quirk was inducing his fight or flight response to pump enough adrenaline to keep his heart going. The massive amount of adrenaline resulted in Katsuki’s anger and anxiety issues, which were turned on the one person who was constantly with him: Izuku.
Kacchan had continued to receive therapy and started specialized medications to take some of the stress off of his body. While still harsh, grumpy, and extremely competitive, Katsuki had softened slightly, relaxing as his body no longer needed to work as hard. He was a tsundere, as Izuku liked to tease him for his romance mangas, through and through, but the time spent with specialists had allowed the two of them to mend some of their bond. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better.
Now, two years after the sludge villain attack, Izuku sat in his living room with the Hero News Network to analyze the first public fight of a new spotlight hero. He had the sound on low so he could rest after a day of being bombarded by sound, his braille writer in front of him, and a thick notebook of his hero analysis laid in front of him.
“Rookie pro-hero Decibel takes out the villain with their super move, Frequency Burst! Look at that take down. Effortless and nearly perfect, just like a recent UA graduate should be.” The commentator murmured from the quiet TV.
Izuku hurriedly typed the name of the super move the new hero had used, shuddering at the idea of having to handle that attack. A burst of intense high frequencies? Not his cup of tea. But from the description of the fight, the new hero had done well for themselves.
He’s musing about the potentials of the new hero’s quirk when the typical quirk analyzer from HNN is interrupted.
“We are now live from the site of breaking news,” a serious voice intones.
Izuku snags the remote and turns the volume up slightly. He doesn’t need it, but the grave tone the new newscaster is using indicates to him that something important must be occurring.
“Musutafu General Hospital is under attack by an unknown villain organization that has taken the civilians inside hostage. The situation reportedly began at 5 o’clock this afternoon with the arrival of armed men in the hero ward. At this time, there are no civilian casualties, but we will continue to keep you-”
The reporter is interrupted by a sudden explosion. It echoes the one Izuku hears off in the distance, loud enough to pass through the block he had mentally placed on his hearing.
Izuku shoves his notebook aside and nearly topples over the coffee table to get to where he knows the TV sits.
“What happened? What was that?!” He screeches and grips the sides of the TV.
Chaos is unfolding on the screen. Civilians screaming, the reporter shouting to take cover. It’s a jumble of noise that Izuku isn’t able to understand without more sensory information.
Pushing off the ground, Izuku stumbles to the entryway and yanks his shoes from the organizer. He slams the door open and doesn’t even grab his cane as he sprints out of the apartment, red shoes slapping the concrete as he pounds down the stairs.
Now that he’s outside he can smell it. Chemicals, fire, sweat, and blood. The screams of panicked people echo off of buildings assault his ears. Ash and blood coat his tongue, just like the day he was blinded.
Izuku has to pause and take a couple breaths to corral his senses. He needs to be able to tell where to go. Straightening up slightly, he turns his face into the wind to get an idea of where the smells are coming from, turning so his ears can sort through the mess of screaming for the real source of trouble.
The sharp pierce of police sirens cuts through the chaos and Izuku has his direction. He takes off again, shoving past people who are running in the opposite direction.
He’s not sure how far he runs, but he’s close enough now that he can feel the smoke coating his throat and lungs, particles of rubble and destruction making it hard to suck in a clean breath.
Stumbling forward, he grabs onto the first person he can decipher a heartbeat from.
“Please, what’s going on?” Izuku begs.
“Kid, there was an explosion. I need you to let go so I can do my job.” The person responds.
“My mom, she works on the hero ward, please. I can’t-”
“I know you’re panicking right now, let me-,” the stranger pauses, “Sansa!”
The pounding of feet comes rapidly toward him, the hum of a quirk filling his ears immediately as the second stranger steps into their space.
“Eraser, who’s this?” The new person asks.
“Kid’s mom works at the hospital, he must have shown up when he heard the commotion.” Eraser informs him gruffly.
“I’ll take him,” this person, Sansa he thinks, sets a hand on his shoulder and turns Izuku toward him. The soft intake of breath from the man reminds Izuku he forgot to grab his sunglasses before leaving.
“No wonder,” the person murmurs before most likely turning to this so-called Eraser, “He’s blind Eraserhead, he can’t see what’s going on.”
Izuku is startled at the name. “Eraserhead? He’s underground and works at night, why is he out here at nearly six in the evening?”
“Then he needs to be pulled back even further. He doesn’t have a guide cane so he can’t tell where the debris is. Take him to a squad car. If his mother is involved in this the police would need to speak with him anyways.” Eraserhead leaves with a rustle of fabric, a slight grating sound to the soft material that swings by Izuku’s head. His heartbeat goes with it and Izuku assumes he took off with his capture weapon.
“Come on, kid,” Sansa places Izuku’s hand in the crook of his arm.
---
The social worker grips Izuku’s arm tightly, guiding him like a toddler down the sidewalk. He still tapped his cane as they went, attempting to use the vibrations as it hit the concrete to help place his steps.
As they walked, Izuku took in his surroundings, trying to breathe deep and smother some of the staggering amount of information his brain was trying to process.
He was struggling to control the flow of information now. He couldn’t concentrate enough to meditate let alone breathe anymore. Ever since his mom passed, it felt like there was a pulsing, aching wound in his chest. It was like his heart had shriveled and died, leaving behind a husk leaking poison into his veins. Eating, sleeping, even thinking was too much right now. The idea of filtering out his senses is too overwhelming.
Instead, he clung to the arm of his social worker as he stumbled up a set of stairs.
“Watch your step,” she hissed and yanked harder on his arm.
Izuku followed numbly, allowing his body to be dragged along.
The wash of cool air hitting his hypersensitive skin sent shivers riveting down his spine. They had obviously stepped into some sort of building, a large one, too, if the echoes of screaming were anything to go by. Oh, the screaming. It must be filled to the brim with children, because their shouts and cries bounced around the walls in the same way they bounced around Izuku’s head.
He briefly remembers foster care being mentioned, but Izuku had been too out of it to remember any of the past few days clearly. So, this must be a group home.
“Ah, you must be Midoriya-kun!” A cheery voice intoned.
Izuku stepped back slightly, nearly hiding behind his social worker. The voice may have sounded cheery at first, but there was an undercurrent that made Izuku pause. It was a coldness, a harshness, something that indicated her upbeat tone was an act.
The worker stepped forward, seeming to peek around Izuku’s social worker wall to get to him. Izuku could feel the way they leaned towards him, the subtle shift of air against his skin as she breathed feeling like a maelstrom.
“Y-yes…” he managed to breathe out. He wasn’t afraid of her, Izuku just didn’t like-
Alright, maybe he was a little afraid.
“Sato, Sato Itsuka,” she replied with that same sickening sweet tone.
Izuku gulped down his fear and bowed to where he assumed (knew) she was standing.
“Nice to meet you Sato-sama,” he murmured before straightening up.
There was a smile in Sato-sama when she spoke next, her clothes rustling as she shifted to face Izuku’s social worker again.
“I’ll take him from here, I’m sure you have more cases today.”
The social worker thanked her politely before leaving without another word to Izuku. It didn’t bother him too much. They hadn’t spoken outside of when the worker explained the next steps of foster care, and Izuku figured he wouldn’t be seeing them again after this.
Tight claws wrapped around his shoulder the moment he heard the door close. It seems like Sato-sama would have the same death grip that his social worker did, only this time the fingers came with polished fingernails sharpened to points. Izuku could smell the acetone and it was making him slightly nauseous.
“This way,” Sato-sama’s voice had lost all pretense of being warm, replaced with a cold, sharp snap as she led him down a hallway.
“Your room is the first one on the left. It’s with the other long term brats who won’t be leaving here anytime soon. Dinner is at five, lights out is at nine. You’ll have free time after dinner with the rest of the house. If you have questions or need to know the rules, ask someone before dinner. I won’t tolerate troublemaking and I will absolutely not baby you because you’re blind and an atroph. Your bed is the one in the far left corner, bottom bunk. Stay in your room for the rest of the quiet hours.” She explained brusquely before shoving him forward and slamming the door shut.
Sato-sama just left a blind kid in an unfamiliar room with no guidance to where things were. Izuku shook his head imperceptibly. He was lucky he had his senses or he’d have no clue if he could even step forward without running into something.
He taps his white can in front of him a few times, waiting for the echoes in the room to tell him where things are. He could already tell there were windows along the back, the air warmer from sunlight than in the hallway, and by the mix of heartbeats there were at least 4 others in the room. 1 heartbeat is up high in the corner and three are circled on the ground on the far right. The walls echo back immediately, hinting at a paper-thinness that Izuku will have to work around. He knows he’ll be hearing everyone in the house breathing as he attempts to sleep or study. At least the floor wasn’t something he would have to fake tripping over since it was hardwood.
Slowly, as if he’s feeling out the room, Izuku takes a step into the space. The soft scrape of fabric being pushed back tells him that someone is standing, which is only confirmed as a thud of socked footfalls make their way toward him. It comes from the left where his bed is, so it’s most likely the soft heartbeat he heard up high earlier coming down from the top bunk of the bed.
“Can I touch your arm?” a low voice asks him quietly.
Izuku’s jaw almost drops at the sound. The person’s voice is low, much lower than most people his age, and smooth. Dark chocolate, honey in his throat, a soothing balm that threatens to lull him to sleep with just five words. There’s a melodic lilt to it. Like there is music woven in between the syllables of his speech, enticing you to sing along with it and fall under its spell. It hums with the power of a quirk, a vibration even deeper than Kacchan’s that rattles Izuku’s chest like a cat’s purr. It underlays their words, harmonizing with the soft mumble of their voice. He wants more, to hear more, to bask in the individual’s dulcet tones. And he does, for a moment, before he realizes they’re waiting for a reply.
“Sure,” Izuku finally gets his mouth to reply. He holds out his elbow and waits for the air pressure to change with the other’s movement. It comes from higher than he expects, like the person had been rubbing their neck before reaching out. A light touch lands on his upper arm, not quite grasping but with enough pressure to be a guiding force.
“I’ll walk you over to your bed. We can do more of a tour after dinner, but the room is pretty empty. There’s two bunk beds in either corner against the wall, two desks on the right and left of the door, and two dressers on either side of the windows by the heads of each bed. I know that’s not super descriptive, but if you want to walk around during free time to familiarize yourself you can.” The person leads him over to the bunk bed, their grip on his arm still feather light.
“You’re in the middle of the bed. It’s at about knee height for you. The top of the bunk is at your chin, so make sure to bend forward as you sit.”
Izuku bent forward slightly to put his hand on the bed, guiding himself down so he could sit on the edge.
“Thanks…?” he trailed off slightly in hopes of a name to the beautiful voice.
“Shinsou Hitoshi, and you’re welcome. ‘Figured you wouldn’t know where anything in the room was and I didn’t want you to trip and bash your head in,” Shinso replied quietly.
While his voice echoed as smooth as silk in Izuku’s ears, there was a rough edge to it, ragged like he had just woken up or hadn’t spoken all day. Which wouldn't be a surprise if he had some type of voice quirk, maybe even a mental one.
“Hey, don’t talk to him. He’ll brainwash you into doing something bad for him,” a voice piped up from the trio of heartbeats across the room.
There was a near-silent scoff next to him.
So he was right, Shinsou-kun must have some type of mental quirk that pairs with his voice.
“Yeah, he’s got a villain’s quirk, he’ll turn you into a villain too if you’re not careful.” a second voice chimed in.
“Like I could turn you quirkless?” Izuku replied dryly.
The tension in the room thickened at Izuku’s reply. The very walls seemed to be holding their breath as Izuku waited for a response.
The three others across the room didn’t say another word to Izuku and Shinsou, instead turning to each other and talking quietly amongst themselves again. Looks like it would start off with being ignored then.
“Dinner’s at five, right?” Izuku tilted his face up to Shinsou’s approximate location.
The air shifted slightly, hair rustling against the back of his neck, as Shinsou let out a soft hum of confirmation.
“I just nodded. Yeah, it is.” Shinsou whispered.
Izuku reached out and took the other kid’s hand.
“T-A-L-K-A-F-T-E-R-D-I-N-N-E-R” Izuku finger-spelled into his palm.
Shinsou’s heartbeat sped up in Izuku’s ears as he seemed to realize what Izuku was doing. He taps twice in the other boy’s palm to answer before walking to the end of the bed, the wood creaking under his weight as he crawls to the top bunk.
Izuku collapses his cane and kicks his backpack and suitcase under the bed. Rolling onto his back, he tucks his hands behind his head and lets out a slow breath. This was going to be interesting.