Chapter Text
Midoriya stepped out of the school building, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the campus. His conversation with Kobayashi replayed in his mind as he mulled over the new mental image his teacher had suggested. 'Turn down the wattage... imagine it like a faucet...' It was a strange concept, but it felt like a step in the right direction. The mental image of a silver faucet appeared in his head, the valve at the top of the faucet staring back at him. He was tempted to reach out and mentally turn it, slightly apprehensive of what might happen. The intermittent crackle of One For All stayed dormant, showing no signs of stirring with the new mental picture.
Lost in thought, he almost missed the group of students waiting near the courtyard. A voice pulled him from his reverie.
“Midoriya!” Hayashi called out, waving both arms like she was flagging down a helicopter. Beside her stood Minami, Tsukino, and Ito. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and relief when they saw him.
“Hey,” Minami greeted, flashing his usual wide grin. “What took you so long? We thought Mr. Kobayashi might’ve gone full-on drill sergeant on you.”
Midoriya blinked, clearly taken aback. “You were waiting for me?”
“Well, duh,” Hayashi said with a dramatic sigh, crossing her arms. “We couldn’t just let you sulk off on your own after getting chewed out.”
“I-I didn’t get chewed out,” Midoriya said quickly, shaking his head. It was strange to defend a teacher for once and not be lying... but he felt a sense of responsibility this time. “Actually, it was... a good talk. He gave me some advice on overcoming my Quirk’s barriers. It was - uh - helpful.”
The four exchanged looks, relief washing over their features, though Minami kept a knowing smirk. “Well, that’s a first. Good to know the guy doesn’t only bark.”
“See? Told you he wasn’t scary!” Hayashi elbowed Minami in the side, making him stumble dramatically. “You’re just a coward.”
“Coward? Says the one who hides behind trees in Capture the Flag!” Minami fired back.
Ito stepped forward, her expression gentler than the others. “I’m glad it went well. I know how much this stuff means to you.”
Midoriya’s cheeks warmed at her sincerity. While he'd grown somewhat used to her fierce disposition in their spars and morning combat sessions, it was always surprising to him how... peaceful she was when she was away from combat. Her energy level still usually ran high, but once in a while, this version of Ito came out. And, while it was a stark difference... it was kind of nice to see. Before he could respond though, Tsukino, who had been quietly watching the exchange, spoke up. “So, which way are you heading, Midoriya? Maybe we can walk part of the way together.”
“Oh, I take the train home,” he said, glancing toward the station. “It’s about a ten-minute walk from here.”
“Hey, same direction as us!” Hayashi said brightly, gesturing between herself and Ito. “We’ll keep you company.”
“What about you two?” Midoriya asked, looking at Minami and Tsukino.
Minami shrugged. “Our homes are the opposite way, but who cares? It’s a nice day for a walk.”
“And it’s not like we’ll get lost,” Tsukino added in her usual calm tone. The barest of smiles flickered on her face as she lightly gestured toward the direction Midoriya had referenced with her head. "We've always got our phones."
The group set off toward the station, the mood light and conversational. Minami and Hayashi quickly fell into their usual teasing, with Hayashi poking fun at Minami’s habit of fidgeting during class.
“You’re like a squirrel on caffeine,” she said, mimicking his bouncing leg and jittery hands.
“I’m sorry, have you looked in a mirror? You’re the human version of an excited puppy,” Minami shot back. “Half our class probably thinks your Quirk is actually wagging your tail.”
“Hey!” Hayashi puffed out her cheeks indignantly. “First, I don't have a tail! And second, I’ll have you know I’m perfectly composed when I need to be!”
“Name one time,” Minami challenged, grinning.
Ito giggled softly, walking beside Midoriya. “They seem to be like this all the time. You get used to it.”
“Yeah, it’s... nice,” Midoriya admitted, glancing between his companions, a soft smile dotting his expression.
For so long, he’d walked home alone, consumed by his thoughts and insecurities. Memories lingered of countless days in middle school, spent idly looking for heroes to draw and bullies to avoid. The bitter taste of loneliness became a common, but no less displeasing taste in his everyday life. At some point, it felt like that's how things were just meant to be. But now, surrounded by laughter and lighthearted banter, he felt something different - a sense of belonging.
“So, Midoriya,” Hayashi piped up, turning her attention back to him. “Are you actually from around here, or do you commute from one of the smaller towns?”
“I live nearby,” he said. “Not too far from the station.”
“Lucky,” Minami said, tossing an arm over Tsukino’s shoulder, earning an unamused look from her. “Some of us have to deal with two transfers just to get here.”
“That's... tough, I'm sorry,” Midoriya said sympathetically. The principal's distant words rang in his head.
'You'll find that your classmates have stories not too different from your own. They've all been written off at some point, and they're all fighting to prove that they're more than their weaknesses.'
Obviously, at that time, Midoriya had been willing to take that point of information at complete face value. There were many types of people in the world - and, if his life had taught him anything, it was that not all men were born equal. There would be plenty of people who were born into a good situation and would continue their lives in the cycle of good fortune. But others were a shade unlucky. Whether it was the genetic lottery, an ill-timed accident, unforeseen tragedies, or a mixture of everything, there was a good chance that some people were going to suffer simply for having been born. They'd never truly be able to control it.
Other people would be smack in the middle, but be it from a bad decision or lack of motivation, perhaps their chances in life would always evade them; a hair out of reach.
Looking at the group laughing and smiling around him, Midoriya faintly wondered what their stories were. Was it sheer chance? Bad luck? Bad decisions? Just how had the cookie crumbled?
“It’s fine,” Tsukino said, shrugging Minami’s arm off. His voice snapped Midoriya out of his thoughts. “I get to read on the train, so it’s not wasted time.”
“I nap,” Hayashi chimed in. “Though, one time I missed my stop and ended up in the middle of nowhere. That was... an adventure.”
“You say ‘adventure’; I say ‘disaster,’” Ito corrected with a small smile. “You came into school the second day in tears, remember?”
Hayashi waved her hand dismissively. “Details.”
The conversation flowed easily as they walked, the group trading stories about their neighborhoods and the quirks (literal and figurative) of their commutes. Minami made an exaggerated recount of getting stuck in a packed train car, complete with dramatic arm gestures that nearly smacked Hayashi in the face.
“Watch it!” she yelped, ducking just in time.
“Oh, come on, you’re fine,” he teased.
As they neared the station, Midoriya found himself smiling more than he expected, his earlier anxieties momentarily forgotten. The conundrum of One For All fading into the background of the peaceful moment.
“So,” Minami said, slinging an arm around Midoriya’s shoulders. “Guess this means you’re officially part of the gang, huh?”
“Gang?” Midoriya repeated, looking at him in surprise.
“Yeah, you know,” Minami said, gesturing vaguely. “Our little group. The misfits of Takayama.”
Hayashi gasped, clapping her hands together. “Ooh, I like that! We should get jackets or something!”
“No jackets,” Tsukino said flatly. "And since when did we have a gang? This is the first time we've all hung out."
“Well, you can be the spoilsport of the gang,” Minami said with a grin.
Midoriya couldn’t help but laugh. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel out of place. He didn’t feel like he was just a Quirkless kid fumbling his way through life, or some fraud who just happened to inherit the greatest hero's Quirk with the destiny to uphold and honor his legacy. He felt like a normal high school student.
"Okay, no jackets then - but we should totally share phone numbers!" Hayashi exclaimed suddenly, her phone already in hand and waving in the air. Her eyes seemed to glimmer as she excitedly held it out, bouncing on the balls of her feet to everyone's amusement. With a smile, both Tsukino and Ito accepted her phone, and punched their numbers in quickly, while Minami and Midoriya shared a quick glance.
"You think this is a trap? Like a... super-secret mission she has to embarrass us?"
Midoriya blinked. "Is... is that something people do...?"
"No, you idiots!" Hayashi denied with a wave of her arms. She pushed the phone into Midoriya's chest, eliciting a slight 'oof' from the teen. He gingerly accepted the device and stared at the screen for a moment, slightly lost as the screen flashed back at him. Truthfully, he'd never been given anyone's phone before - not that it meant he didn't know how to enter his number. It was just... so new. The entire process seemed foreign. Slowly, he pressed in his number, double-checking, then triple-checking it was the right sequence of digits, before passing the device to Minami. The weight of the device lingered in his palms, the implications even heavier.
He had friends.
"Perfect!" Hayashi said happily, immediately tapping away at her screen. A buzz from Midoriya's phone - as well as from the other phones within the group - told the teen that she'd likely responded with a text. "I just put us all in a group chat - make sure you say your name for everyone else!"
"Can I have a cool nickname? Like, Blastoise, the Water Hero?"
Tsukino giggled behind her hand. "Are you sure you don't want to be Bubble Boy or something of the sort?"
"No! Absolutely not!" His vehement rejection sent another wave of laughter through the group. The warm sensation that had been growing within Midoriya's chest throughout the walk continued to bloom as his laughter chorused equally with the others; a noise he felt like he hadn't heard in quite some time. Before he even knew it, a new feeling had begun to grow internally.
He felt like he belonged.
Midoriya’s steps were lighter than they’d been in a long time as he bid farewell to the group and began his walk home from the station, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. The contact names of Ito, Tsukino, Hayashi, and Minami glowed brightly on the screen, and a small, almost giddy smile crept across his face. He’d never had this before - a group of friends who cared enough to wait for him, to tease him, to include him.
He felt like he was floating as he turned the corner onto his street. His thoughts buzzed with the laughter they’d shared, and he found himself replaying their conversations, already wondering what tomorrow might bring.
But as his apartment building came into view, a familiar weight settled back into his chest. His mood dulled slightly as the barest hint of something foreboding crept into his expression, worming its way into his mood.
The air in the hallway was still and quiet when he stepped inside. He kicked off his shoes, placed his bag near the door, and called out, “I’m home!”
No response.
He peeked into the living room, where the curtains were drawn, casting a dim light over the small space. The television was off, and the coffee table was cluttered with a couple of unopened mail envelopes and a half-empty mug of tea. There was no steam from the cup, and as he went over to pick it up, he realized that the sides were cold.
She’s probably in her room again.
Midoriya’s smile faded as he walked down the hall. He paused outside his mother’s bedroom, his hand hovering over the doorframe. He considered knocking, but instead, he leaned slightly closer, listening for any sound.
There was none.
He sighed, stepping away and heading toward the kitchen. The sink had a few unwashed dishes, and the counters weren’t as spotless as they used to be. It wasn’t a mess - not yet - but it wasn’t the pristine home his mother usually kept. He noticed the recycling bin was close to filling up, and the thought tugged at his heart. He took it upon himself to tie up the drawstrings and move the bag so that he could take it away himself. Mentally, he wondered if he'd been falling behind in his chores - usually, he tried to help his mother out when it came to keeping the small apartment clean, but all his homework and training had been getting in the way.
Having replaced the bag, he set his phone on the counter and opened the fridge, hoping to find something to reheat for dinner. The shelves were sparse, save for a few leftovers in plastic containers and a carton of eggs. He frowned, making a mental note to offer to go grocery shopping tomorrow. That was another thing he'd been neglecting a bit more than normal, he realized.
After settling on some leftover rice and vegetables, he warmed them in the microwave and sat at the small dining table. For a moment, he just stared at his plate, his appetite waning as the silence pressed against him. His eyes settled on the spot where his mother usually sat - her missing presence being a vacuum of joy, but at the same time, becoming a gradual norm over the past two weeks.
Lazily, his gaze drifted toward a framed photo hanging on the wall - a picture of him and his mom taken years ago at a festival. They were both smiling - genuine, bright smiles that felt like a distant memory now.
She’d been different lately, quieter. He’d noticed her sleeping more, retreating to her room after dinner and staying there for hours, leaving him to retreat to his own room and complete his homework. She used to hum while cleaning or cooking, filling the apartment with little moments of joy. Now, the only sounds were the occasional creak of the floorboards or the faint murmur of her television late at night. Her sleep schedule was... erratic, to say the least. He couldn't tell if it was work-related from an irregular schedule, or if it had something to do with something else.
'She’s tired,' he told himself. 'She works hard, and it’s just... stress.'
But even as he thought about it, he knew it wasn’t the whole truth.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong - had been wrong for a while now. And he hated himself for not knowing how to fix it. For not even trying. Their conversations had grown stilted, strained, ever since...
Midoriya shook his head, trying to banish the thought. He took a bite of his food, chewing slowly as the knot in his chest tightened. The food was bland - lacking the normal warmth in both temperature and flavor. It didn't taste the same without her. It tasted... so hollow.
He wanted to talk to her. To ask if she was okay. But every time he tried, the words stuck in his throat, tangled up in his own guilt and uncertainty.
'She’s been so supportive of me. She’s done everything for me.'
And yet, here he was, too caught up in his own problems to be the son she deserved.
Midoriya pushed his plate away, his appetite completely gone now. He rested his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands.
For the first time that evening, the joy he’d felt walking home began to dim, replaced by a nagging sense of unease. After gnawing on the rapidly-cooling meal, he sighed heavily and stood up. He scrapped the remaining food into the trash, feeling a tad guilty at the waste, before taking his barely-touched plate to the sink. He rinsed it quickly, letting the sound of the running water fill the quiet space around him. Glancing over at the other unwashed dishes, he decided to wash them as well, hoping the small gesture would relieve his mood a bit. When he turned the faucet off, the silence returned, pressing down on him again.