Chapter 4
Something soft tickled Izuku’s nose, making him sneeze himself awake and subsequently smack his face into whatever was by his nose.
“Shit,” hissed a low, groggy voice.
“Sorry,” Izuku hurriedly whispered in return.
The something that had been tickling his nose was Shinsou’s hair and Izuku had just bashed his face into the top of his friend’s head, waking them both up.
Izuku rolled onto his back, uncurling his arms from where he had been hugging himself in his sleep. The two of them had listened to music together late into the night and he isn’t sure when they exactly fell asleep. Now, the two friends were crammed into Shinsou’s top bunk after a rough attempt at sleep.
“That hurt,” Shinsou whined while sitting up to rub the top of his head. His wild hair hung in his face, tangled and snarled from the two of them sharing a pillow. His eyes were puffy under his bangs, violet irises standing out against dark under-eye circles as he looked at Izuku accusingly. He radiated warmth from being curled up under his thick blanket, an almost sticky kind of heat at this time of year that Izuku knew he would be thankful for in the next month or so, and smelled like detergent and smoke.
Shinsou had confided in Izuku that he missed breakfast and his school didn’t give out free lunch, so, besides his snack stash, he only ate dinner most days. He’d picked up smoking from an older kid who said it would curb his hunger. While Izuku didn’t approve, he understood that his friend preferred it to going hungry. “I want to be a hero, it’s not like I’ll end up living long anyways,” Shinsou had joked morbidly.
Izuku could feel Shinsou’s glare even if he couldn’t actually see it.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku whined in return, “your hair was tickling my face,”.
“Just get up,” Shinsou grumbled, “I have to get ready and I want that coffee you promised on the way to school.”
Izuku and Shinsou had mapped out the route to Aldera last night, realizing that the two of them had to take the same train in the morning to be on time for the day. Shinsou had offered to walk him all the way to school, just so he knew the route, but Izuku had assured his friend that he was familiar with the train station and could navigate from there. Since they would have to leave before breakfast, Izuku had offered to buy them coffee on the way as a thank you for the offer.
“Fine, fine,” Izuku gave in and rolled over the bed rail, landing on the ground with a small wobble. His joints were not ready to land from the top bunk and the shock felt like it rattled his bones.
Shinsou landed lightly beside him, having jumped from the top bunk for months now, and dropped down to pull Izuku’s backpack out for him.
“I swear, you’ll get to unpack eventually,” Hitoshi grumbled before handing the bag to Izuku.
Izuku just giggled and started digging around for his uniform. He’d unpack tonight or something.
After the two of them had rushed through their morning routine, they set off for the train station. Shinsou trudged along, still only half awake, with one headphone shoved in his ear and a coffee in his hand from the konbini down the street. Izuku had tried to insist he get some sort of breakfast, but Shinsou had refused, saying that Izuku would need to save his money so he could buy clothes or snacks.
The train ride to their respective schools was quiet, Shinsou listening to his music and sipping on black coffee while Izuku listened to a report on late night hero fights. The train was slightly crowded, but no one was going to get in the way of a blind kid, even if said blind kid could nearly count every stranger from their heartbeats alone.
The two friends parted at the train station with Shinsou asking one more time if he needed to be walked to school just in case. Izuku denied it again, reminding him that he had lived in the area until about a week ago. Shinsou seemed hesitant, but with one more nudge from Izuku, he left for his own middle school.
Izuku reluctantly headed towards his own school, tapping his cane on the ground as he walked and keeping an ear out for any bullies. He was walking a different route than normal, but it had been two weeks since he had been to school and he was sure his tormentors would be ready to get their daily quota in.
He walked slowly, taking his time so that he would arrive at his classroom at the last minute, enjoying the fresh air before he was cooped up in the foster home again. The familiar smells of his homemade his eyes water, his heart aching for his mom. He passed the bakery they would stop at on Saturday mornings for chocolate croissants, their normal supermarket, the park he had been playing at since he could walk. Even the konbini that charged him double for being quirkless made him emotional. It was a deep pit that had settled in his stomach, turning his constant heartache into a dull throb. He’d read somewhere once that grief didn’t get any smaller, you just grew around the burden and learned to carry it.
Izuku didn’t feel like he had grown much.
A hot hand yanking his arm pulled Izuku out of his head and off of the sidewalk. He was dragged into a side alley just a block and a half from school, down the street from his old apartment.
“Deku,” a familiar voice hissed in his ear.
“Kacchan,” Izuku sighed and pulled his arm from the sweaty grasp.
While the two of them had repaired some of their relationship, middle school had torn some of it back up. There were still a lot of things that Katuski did that weren’t exactly friend-like. Like the nickname, for example. Or ignoring his bullies. Or calling him useless. Or telling him he couldn’t be a hero. The list was endless, really. Middle school was rough on both of them apparently.
“Where have you been?” Katsuki growled.
Izku rolled his eyes behind his glasses. He had literally stayed with the Bakugou’s the entire week after his mom died. He knows he didn’t say goodbye to Kacchan when he left, but the boy had to know what was going on.
“The foster group home, like what was discussed when I left,” Izuku replied.
“Why didn’t you say goodbye? I went on a run and then came home to find you gone?”
“I didn’t think you would care,” Izuku said hesitantly.
“Dumb Deku, why didn’t you just stay with us?”
“I don’t know Kacchan, why don’t you ask your parents?”
Izuku did know.
He had specifically asked not to stay with the Bakugou’s, refusing to wreck their incredible careers in fashion by taking in a blind, quirkless, orphan. It didn’t matter if he was their best friend’s son, the press would chew them up for taking him in. Auntie Mitsuki had begged him to stay, telling him that they could more than take care of him, but Izuku had refused to sign the adoption paperwork. He knows it broke Auntie and Uncle’s hearts, but he couldn’t bear to wreck another family.
Kacchan let off an explosion in his palm, smoking the shoulder of Izuku’s Gakuran.
Ah, that was another thing.
Kacchan seemed to lack quirk control around Izuku when at school. Maybe it was to seem tougher, maybe it was to fit in, or maybe it was to just put Izuku in his place, he wasn’t sure. No matter what, Izuku’s uniform had a lot of black patches to cover the burn holes from Katsuki’s quirk.
Izuku brushed Katsuki’s hand off his shoulder and smacked his cane against the other boy’s shins.
“We’re not at school, don’t use your quirk on me.” Izuku chastised.
Katsuki just scoffed, already making his way out of the alley. “Damn Deku,” he grumbled under his breath and turned the corner to school.
---
The school day wasn’t different from any of Izuku’s typical days. He ran from bullies, was shoved in a closet and thus missed lunch, and left school with one new burn and a twisted ankle. Thank goodness he had remembered to pack his first aid supplies or he would have been seriously out of luck.
He did his best to avoid limping as he made his way to the train station, not ready to hear from Shinsou about his new injuries. The boy was leaning outside of the doorway, eyes scanning back and forth for his friend. Izuku could smell him in the breeze, detergent, tobacco and the cheap shampoo the foster home provided was already becoming a comfort for the boy.
“Shinsou?” Izuku called from a few paces away. It was better to play up the blind kid act than to just walk straight to his friend.
“Izuku!” Shinsou rasped and started walking toward him.
Izuku stayed put, waiting for the other boy to make his way through the bustling train station to him. They had agreed to meet outside and walk over to the konbini to get snacks before heading home.
A light hand settled in Izuku’s hair and ruffled it.
“Hey broccoli boy,” Shinsou croaked fondly.
“I do not look like broccoli!” Izuku retorted playfully and pushed Shinsou’s hand out of his hair.
“Whatever you say bush-head. Ready to pick up some snacks?”
“Yes, I’m starving,” Izuku whined and looped his arm through Hitoshi’s.
The two of them browsed the konbini shelves and picked out a few cheap things that could be stored in “the best hiding spot ever,” according to Shinsou. Izuku had rolled his eyes at that, but he trusted his friend since Shinsou had been dumped into foster care nearly six years earlier.
After grabbing as many snacks as they could, the two sat down at one of the tables outside to devour some cup ramen.
“So, want to tell me why you’re limping?” Shinsou said through a mouthful of noodles.
If Izuku could glare he would. Instead, he put on his best deadpan face and hoped his aura radiated annoyed.
“Shinsou, we talked about the bullies. Why do you think I’m limping?”
Shinsou shrugged and made a humming sound. “Yeah, I still thought I’d ask,”.
The giggle slipped out unintentionally as Izuku replied. “Sure, and I bet you didn’t make it out of the school day without a single scratch. I know they put the muzzle on today,”.
“How do you even know that? You literally can’t see me,”.
“I could smell the blood you tried to wipe away while we were walking earlier,”.
“How could you possibly smell that? It was a tiny couple drops from the cut on my nose?”
“My senses are sharper since I can’t see. I can smell a lot of things that most people don’t bother to notice.”
“Ya’sure you’re not a vampire?”
“Positive, Hitocchi,” Izuku slapped his hand over his mouth, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to call you that! You’re just really nice and my first real friend, and I’ve been calling you that in my head because I wanted to give you a nickname. If you don’t like it I promise I won’t call you that again, please don’t be mad. I really didn’t mean for it to slip out. It won’t happen again-”
“Izukkun, breathe,” Hitoshi interrupted and put a hand over his.
Izuku sucked in a deep breath and tried to stop the panic clawing up his throat. He had done so well today, hadn’t even cried once, and he really didn’t want to break that streak now.
“Izukkun?” Izuku finally whispered after a couple of breaths.
“Well if you get to call me a nickname you have to have a nickname,” Hitoshi grumbled.
Izuku launched himself up from his seat and across the table, nearly knocking over their ramen, to give Hitoshi a hug.
---
The days passed slowly, and Izuku had to work harder and harder to grow around the pit of grief in his stomach. It felt like each time he had to walk to school or walk home his heart was being ripped from his chest. He noticed each little difference between his routine now and what he had before. Coming home and patching injuries was the same, but there were no hugs and homemade dinner, his route to school was different, his bullies meaner. There were no Saturday pastries or Sunday grocery runs. There was no mumbling hero analysis to his mom as they listened to the nightly news together. But especially, there was no mom.
Izuku fell deeper and deeper until the massive waves of grief were overwhelming. Each day the light faded a little more from his smile and he talked to Shinsou less, until he barely smiled and barely muttered a word aloud.
Each night he lay in bed listening to the staggering amount of sound that echoed throughout the foster group home. He could count each breath from every child in the house, every creak, every groan, every rustle of sheets. He could hear Sato-sama wander about in the kitchen at night, complaining on the phone to friends and foster parents. The rush of water from the bathrooms was a river roaring in his ears. Shinsou shifting in his bed sounded like snapping tree branches above him. Every sound pierced his eardrums and pounded against his teeth until he could only lay there in agony.
He could barely get out of bed in the mornings. Eyes crusted from the hour or two of sleep he could get in and nose bleeding from the influx of senses. School passed in a blur, homework shredded, and grades dropping. Izuku even lost track of the last time he had eaten. Not even visits from Present Mic roused him.
It was a month before someone dragged him out of his bed for something other than school or dinner.
“Izukkun, you have a visitor, get up,” Hitoshi mumbled and yanked Izuku bodily out of the bottom bunk.
Izuku let the upper half of his body thunk to the floor. “Leave me alone to die,” he moaned dramatically.
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” Hitoshi tugged again and Izuku flopped to the floor.
A huff of breath had Izuku turning his ear to the door.
“It’s really that bad?” A new voice piped up.
Slowly, Izuku pulled himself up to a sitting position. The stranger definitely hadn’t been to the foster home before, he had a smell about him Izuku would have remembered. Blood and metal, like they were dripping from his head to his feet, smothering all the other smells in the room. Rust and iron invaded his senses and Izuku had to double over from the profuse amount of information his brain was trying to process.
“Blood, sweat, metal, tobacco, old cloth, summer air, kimchi, rotting wood,-”
His cataloging was interrupted by a hand on the top of his head.
“I’ve got him, Shinsou-kun, why don’t you go back to whatever weekend activity you were doing,”.
Soft footfalls retreated from the room and Izuku was left alone with the stranger.
“Come on,” the stranger’s hands moved to pull him up from under his armpits, “we’re going for a walk.”
---
Akaguro Chizome.
That was the stranger who had pulled him from his wallowing and out to a park.
Now the two of them were sitting on a bench in the park across from the foster home, Izuku munching on an ice cream cone as Akaguro-san sat quietly next to him.
“I heard you’re having some trouble,” Akaguro-san started.
“Jeez, I wonder why,” Izuku sassed back.
A hand came up to cuff him on the back of the head and Izuku instinctively ducked at the change in air pressure.
A soft chuckle and the hand moved to settle in his hair like Akaguro-san had done earlier.
“People die, it’s a part of life,” he said softly.
“Yeah, well was it your mom?” Izuku snapped.
“Yes, it was,”.
Izuku paused in licking the drip of vanilla ice cream that was making its way down the outside of his cone. Akaguro-san’s mom had died too?
“I was a little bit younger than you, but yes, my mom passed. I had a very difficult time as well, and hid away in a bed in that group home too. It’s why they called me to talk to you. You can’t do that, can’t let yourself crumble away. Tell me, what do you want to be when you’re older?” Akaguro-san moved his hand from the top of Izuku’s head as he talked, tucking it under his leg.
“A hero,” Izuku whispered, “I-I’ve always wanted to be a hero, even after the accident.”
“So why can’t you?”
“Because I’m blind and quirkless now, and no one would let me into a hero program even if I tried,”.
“Alright. Tell me what you know about those two people over there,”.
“What does that have to do with being a hero?”
“Just do it for me, kid. I’m proving a point. Tell me about the couple across from us,”.
Izuku turned his face to where the couple was sitting across from them having a picnic. He could smell their food wafting on the breeze, small bento boxes one of them had homemade by the way it was spiced. Rice, sushi, and he thinks that there’s a fruit cup from the sweet smell. Their soft rumble of conversation reached his ears as he tuned in, a conversation about their future. He could smell alcohol from one of them, older and slightly stale like they had been out last night. And he could tell one of them was stressed by how intensely their heart was beating.
“They’re on a date and talking about their future. One of them went out last night and smells like a bar, the other is excited about whatever conversation they’re having.” Izuku finally answered.
“See? You have a gift, Midoriya. You have more tools at your disposal than most heroes. Let me train you, show you how you can be a hero.”
“How are you going to train a blind kid?” Izuku scoffed.
“Come on, get up, follow me,”.
Izuku still followed the man as they wound around the park to a small shack off the back of the property. He thought about it for a few seconds, that he shouldn’t be following this practical stranger away from people and alone, but if Izuku was to be murdered, so be it.
Rotting wood and fertilizer washed over him as he stepped into the shack, making Izuku wrinkle his nose. Why would Akaguro-san bring him here?
“Put your cane down and hit me,” Akaguro-san demanded.
“H-hit you?” Izuku stuttered incredulously, “you want me to hit you? Like right now?”
“Yeah, come on, brat, put your hands up and throw a punch!”
Izuku slowly collapsed his cane and set it aside, letting his senses spread outside of the small bubble of his body so he could find Akaguro-san. He was standing, facing him, body relaxed and heartbeat slow. Izuku could still smell blood and metal over the overpowering stench of the shack, but somehow it fit here.
“Come on, I don’t have all day,” Akaguro-san pestered him.
“Alright, alright. Give me a second,” Izuku muttered before attempting the fighting stance that he had seen heroes use when he was little.
Before Izuku could ready his punch, a fist slammed into his nose which started to gush blood.
“Fuck!” Izuku stumbled back and fell, scraping his hands on the dirty concrete as he went down.
“Heroes don’t get ‘a second’, get up. Try again.” Akaguro-san had already danced back and away to move to a different part of the shack.
“Yes, Akaguro-sensei,”.