Chapter 4: Eureka! An Idea Begins To Form
Something's different about Deku, and it's infuriating that nobody else is acknowledging it.
Really—Bakugou Katsuki is meant to be the first (and only) student from Aldera Junior High to get to U.A., because he's the only one observant enough to notice that Deku is fucking stranger than ever before.
Why is nobody fucking talking about this?
The two extras that like to hang around him—Katsuki can't even bother to remember their names or learn them, no matter how much they claim they're going to try for U.A., too, they're both too stupid and their Quirks are too weak to get them in—don't acknowledge it past "if that's what you think, Bakugou", which is hardly an acknowledgment.
Midoriya Izuku changed. He's still a sniveling little Quirkless wimp, but his presence has suddenly become ten times freakier. He still flinches and pouts when Katsuki, or any other of his classmates, try to put him in his proper place, but his eyes are hollower. He feels, like…
Well, Deku feels like he walked out of a horror, or some shit. Katsuki doesn't care much for movies unless they're about heroes beating up bad guys, but he gets the gist of the horror movies. Something happened and he changed, and nobody is talking about it and it's making Katsuki so mad.
"You didn't try to off yourself the other day, did you?" He asks, trying to hold back the explosions in his hands as he snaps Deku out of one of his weird freaky-ass trances.
The nerd jumps and starts to stutter. "N-No, I didn't—"
He grabs the nerd and pulls him in tightly. Katsuki can feel the heat emanating from his palms, the heat that always let to a burst, and he makes sure the nerd feels it, too. "Stop the fucking stuttering and answer my question already."
Take a swan dive off the roof, and pray you get a Quirk in your next life!
The words had tumbled out of him the other day—the day after that, Deku had gotten himself struck by lightning. It felt like an accident, their teacher said Midoriya was in an accident, and he'll be out for a while, and he'd seen Auntie Inko picking up packets of homework for Deku to keep up with once he's better, but who gets themselves struck by lightning in a metropolitan place like Musutafu?
It'd be different if Deku was in the middle of nowhere, and the lightning attracted itself to the tallest thing. But Deku is, amongst other things, a bit of a runt, and everything else around him in a street should have been struck first.
Why is nobody else asking this? Why is everyone pitying him? Something is up with Deku.
"No, I didn't—" Deku says, though his voice is still shaking.
"Good." Katsuki says, and for once, he means it, for once. He makes sure that Deku can feel his warming hands through their school uniform. As much as he hates Deku, he doesn't want the useless loser to actually die. It'd hurt Auntie Inko, who lost her husband shortly before Deku was born. It wouldn't hurt many other people because Deku was a bit of a lonely loser but it'd hurt Auntie Inko, and he doesn't think he'd ever be able to look her in the face if he was the catalyst, the one responsible, for Izuku—for Deku—dying. "If I find out you're lying to me, Deku. I'll be fucking pissed."
Katsuki forces a smile, but it's more like a wild dog baring its teeth.
But then something changes.
There's a heaviness to the air. The lights above flicker. They had been flickering all day, though, and Aldera's a shithole, so that's no surprise.
Katsuki looks into Deku's eyes, and for a second, it looks like—well, it's gotta be the trick of the light, because it looks like his eyes glow an unnatural cyan, for just a second. It's unnerving. It's inhuman. It's—different.
Before he can think too much about it, ask Deku what the hell was that, he's distracted by the shattering of the glass of one of the fluorescent lights right above one of the extras who always hangs out with him. It's a small, mini-explosion—the extra jumps out of the way right before glass and small bits of metal wiring hit him, at least, but he still screams like a little baby girl when it happens.
He looks back at Deku. His face is shocked and confused, just like everybody else, but there's—there's a knowing there.
Could…?
No. No fucking way. He was Quirkless. Useless. Unless he'd, somehow, someway, set the light to short out right above his own damn desk like that, there's no way that he was responsible for that.
The cyan eyes flicker back into his mind.
"Freaky Deku," Katsuki mumbles under his breath, before turning on his heels.
There's something weird about Deku, and nobody is talking about it.
✨👻✨
He can't sleep.
Normally, that's not a problem for Izuku. Sometimes insomnia does plague him, once or twice a month, whenever he's particularly hyperfixated on analyzing a new hero or learning something that would seem unrelated, but still connects to his primary interests. For example, orcas in the wild can get caught up in 'fads' similar to humans—in the early 1980s, a population of them was found to be wearing salmon fish just as a human would wear a hat. Gang Orca is known to be rather fashionable and up-to-date with the current fashion trends, even though he never changes his hero costume.
But whenever he realizes it's past one in the morning, he manages to make himself sleep, or at least, lay down with his eyes closed for a bit, not moving. He needs sleep, because he constantly needs to be on guard at school, or he'll end up hurt worse by his classmates by the end of the day. If he's rested enough, he can avoid the problematic areas.
Except, now… Well, Izuku can't sleep, no matter what he tries.
It's been an exponentially growing problem since his accident. He can get a few good night's rest, before his body is too awake to sleep. He's tried tea to help doze off, and melatonin to hopefully knock him out. While it isn't a bad problem yet to need stronger medications for it, he still doesn't want it to be a problem.
But it is.
Izuku doesn't know why he isn't able to sleep, but it started right after the accident, so it has to be connected to his new, strange, powers… Right? Right?
He'd started a new journal on his powers. Journal number thirteen—an unlucky number in the west, if he remembers correctly—hidden underneath the mattress of his bed, where his mom isn't lucky to find it.
Not that he'd really… mind, if she found it. Izuku's mom is good about not reading through his stuff. But at the same time, he doesn't even know how to tell her. Or what to tell her. Or if he should tell her.
Yeah, mom, remember that Accident? Oh, no, it wasn't lightning. I think I became some sort of freakazoid monster?
… No. That wouldn't do.
He kicks off the sheets, the All Might duvet flipped over so only the golden yellow underneath color is visible now. He'd slowly been taking All Might merch down, shoving it in a corner of his room. While it was getting it mostly out of the way, the way he'd ended up stacking everything started to become almost like a shrine to All Might, which wasn't that great of a thought in the long run, but it at least doesn't look like he's so suddenly lost the obsession he's had with the number one hero.
Looking at it reminds him—
An interview from a few days before Izuku met All Might, where he says, "You can be a hero, as long as you put all your MIGHT into it–"
"Yeah, right." Izuku scoffs, mumbling to himself. "Unless you're Quirkless, then it isn't realistic."
It was a bit of a shock that All Might had been so… Callous, with his wording. Izuku didn't even know what he should have expected. He grabbed onto All Might so quickly, so suddenly, without even thinking. And he asked the question, and All Might told him, honestly, kid, you gotta be realistic, completely breaking the smiling façade so many people around the world had come to love, and left Izuku there, alone, on the rooftop.
But.
But.
Izuku isn't Quirkless anymore. Not technically. He's been falling through things, turning invisible, floating. He glances down at his hands, focusing on the buzzing under his skin, in his chest, in his core. It feels like the buzzing of electricity in old buildings, of lightbulbs about to die, of the wind in the middle of a thunderstorm. He's not powerless.
Something settles in his mind. He's got a lot of questions, and only one place will have the answers he seeks. He grabs a hoodie from his closet, and slips off his flannel PJ pants for a pair of jeans. Pausing at his doorway, Izuku creaks it open slowly, holding his breath to listen to the sound of his mom's gentle snoring.
When she's out, she's usually out like a light. Izuku could definitely sneak out for an hour or so, and be back before sunrise. He isn't grounded after his "Accident", even though she threatened to do so after he first woke up in the hospital. As far as she—or anybody else knew—Izuku had been struck by a stray bolt of lightning, not fried in what could possibly be an interdimensional portal in the basement of an abandoned building.
…The more Izuku thinks about it, the more bizarre his life seems to become.
He grabs his shoes and keys from the front entryway and shoves his phone into his pocket. He doesn't need his phone for light, but if anything bad were to happen—again, hopefully not though—he'd need it right away.
Not to mention, this probably isn't the safest thing to do.
Musutafu is a city built strangely. In the hills of the city sit U.A., of course; a good twenty-minute train-ride from Izuku's apartment. Some mansions, too, close to U.A., house pro heroes and their families.
But if one goes down the hills, closer to the beach, it becomes more unsafe. While it isn't a place where a lot of big hero action happens, such as large raids on criminal organizations, it still gets its fair share of crime and debauchery. Vigilantes and the occasional underground hero are the only ones who patrol the parts of the city where Izuku lives, which isn't ideal.
As he walks down the street, he tugs his hood over his face. The city at night is a dangerous, unknown territory, but the buzzing in his chest isn't going to shut up, and he needs to find the answers to what the hell happened to him. Hopefully, he could find something; or at least a place to start his research, if he returns to the abandoned building again.
There's the sound of a random party coming from a building. A group of drunk businessmen trying to drink the pain of work away at cheap bars walk by on the other side of the street, singing an off-tune song from decades ago. Older teens and young adults that society forgot about lean up against the walls and share cheap cigarettes, barely glancing at Izuku as he passes.
He rounds the corner to the beach by Musutafu Bay– Dagobah. The moonlight reflecting on the ocean waves would have looked beautiful if the beach wasn't covered in trash as it was.
That beach is where his mom and dad met, many years ago, but it had been slowly becoming a junkyard before Izuku was even born. His dad never had to see the beautiful beach where he later proposed to his mom as the ugly mess it is now, at least.
Someone should get to cleaning that soon, Izuku thinks, absentmindedly, before turning onto Jaku Street.
Izuku passes the beach and ends up on Jaku Street again. The same worn, abandoned buildings exist, the street empty and dark. There's no signs of life or death, eerily quiet as the day that Izuku found it, minus the storm that had been tormenting him. He can't see anyone nearby, but he keeps close to the sides of the buildings anyway.
If a car were to drive by, the driver drunk, to strike him and kill him fully?
Well, first of all, how embarrassing.
Second of all, Izuku wouldn't know how to deal with that sort of shit luck.
The buzz in his chest seems to echo with his nervous heartbeat. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. Izuku glances at the time on his phone—it's 1:00 in the morning, which is the latest Izuku can ever think about staying up, or being outside of his home. He's definitely breaking some sort of curfew, but he needs to find the building.
He makes his way up the street. It was the second house on Jaku Street, so it should be easy to find.
As he makes his way up the street, he feels his heart and his core sink into his stomach. He speeds up his walk, skipping his steps into nearly a run, before skidding to a stop in front of the abandoned building.
Or where the abandoned building should be. The entire building was gone.
What? No, no, no—how? Why? Glancing around, there's no construction equipment or even evidence of any demolition that had to have occurred. The lot was empty, just pure dirt, between the two buildings, and looking at it, the building definitely felt a lot bigger than the plot it had once stood in. There isn't a sign for anything at all. Just… Dirt.
Now what do I do? Izuku can't help but let out a little whine. Sad-upset-sad, his core sings.
The abandoned building was a mystery to begin with. The strange technology, the "ghost portal" that did this to Izuku… It couldn't have been a fever dream brought on by being struck by lightning. Izuku can clench and flex his right hand and still feel a bit of nerve damage in it. He can see it in the scarring across his tissue, Lichtenberg figures dancing up his arm and to his chest. He can see it in how his body floats, falls through things, and disappears. He sees it in his dreams, where his eyes turn neon blue, and his hair turns snow white.
How could it disappear so quickly, with no stories online covering it?
His eyes threaten to overwhelm him with tears, and he tugs on the strings of his hoodie, bringing the fabric over them. Of course. Of course. Of course, this had to happen to Izuku. Nothing that was going on was making any sense. The universe took one look at Izuku, and decided that he had to have one of the worst lives he could have (see: Quirkless diagnosis, age 4), and then decided to kill him, or partially kill him?
What luck was this?
He sighs, and pushes his hood back off his face, wiping furiously at his cheeks in an attempt to dry them after his waterworks. Fine. Fine, I'll figure something else out.
But what?
✨👻✨
He walks past Dagobah Beach, again. He remembers the story that his mom told him so many times; the day that she met his father, the day they fell in love.
Mom and Auntie Mitsuki were having a beach day, during a college break. The sun was shining and the weather was warm, and the water was sparkling blue. Mom was reading a book, and Mitsuki was tanning.
All of a sudden, bam—a volleyball hit Mom in the side of her face. Her glasses cracked, and a very embarrassed and guilty Midoriya Hisashi ran over to apologize.
Izuku never knew the beach when it was clean. The story goes as such; the beach was closed by the city for a while, following a villain attack that had left bits of shrapnel in the sand. They had promised the beach would be clean the following summer, but that didn't happen. They then promised the next summer, and then the next summer, and so on. Eventually, people stopped asking; and someone dumped their trash on the beach one night. Once one piece of trash was dumped, it began to pile up.
And now it sits as Musutafu's junk yard.
Which is a shame. Izuku's seen the photos, and he can only imagine what the beach would look like at its peak.
A glance at his phone tells him the time, again—it's now inching closer to two in the morning, which isn't ideal. His home isn't much further, of course, but he should start heading home if he wants to be in bed before his mom wakes up and finds him missing. But he can't help but stop, and stare at the abandoned, forgotten beach, and peer past it to see the ocean waves, glimmering in the starlight.
The ocean is dangerous. The ocean claimed his father, shortly after Izuku was born. Yet, he can't help but pause and watch it, as the waves go in and out, in and out…
–Dangerous–
– Not safe–
–Better of as a police officer, or paramedic, if you wanna save people–
The thoughts sneak up on him, reminders of the things that other people have said to him, have called him. They tend to do that when he isn't expecting them the most, and they've stopped sounding like other people, and more like his own voice.
--Useless—
No. Izuku isn't useless. He hasn't ever been useless. Nobody is born useless. They all have a reason to exist.
--Be realistic--
No. Is that not the point of a dream? To be so unrealistic to reach out to, to strive for, so when one finally does achieve the impossible, the world is changed?
He clenches his fists and feels his core sing in his chest. Change, change, be a hero, show them they're wrong, show them you're worthy.
He's going to show the world. He's going to be a hero. No matter what anyone else says. He has powers now, he has the responsibility to do good, just like everybody else in the world. He doesn't know how to use the powers, sure—he's behind his classmates in terms of that. He doesn't even know if he wants to register them yet, to come out and say, yeah, I got in a freak lab accident, but he's going to figure it out. Somehow.
Izuku glances around. There's a lot of trash in front of him.
And an idea begins to form.
Chapter 5: Why Is The World So Against Me?
There are many theories on the origins of Quirks. A random mutation in humanity, the next step of evolution. A plague, carried by disease-bourne rats, like the plagues of old, infecting humanity one by one, causing these mutations. An act of God, an act of the Devil.
But the truth is much, much, more complicated.
In the year 2004 In a small town in Amity Park, a young boy opened a portal to a place known as the Infinite Realms. The ectoplasmic radiation that leaked out from that portal first spread to the town, and then the neighboring towns, and then the state, and eventually, the world…
-- On The True Origin of Quirks, a blog post by native Amity Park resident Daniyah Gray, year 2140.
✨👻✨
The plan is, actually, quite simple.
He thinks it over the following day, after getting home and getting an hour of sleep he didn't necessarily need, and throughout all of his classes, barely paying attention to the lectures.
Izuku doesn't need as much sleep as a normal person does. Not anymore. He needs about half; he can get away with three full nights of sleep at the very least. Four at the most, but Izuku can live off less sleep than normal, especially as summer vacation is rolling around, and not much will be happening between now and the U.A. Entrance Exams in the spring.
That is what he wants to train for, isn't it? He could apply to Shiketsu, too, or maybe any other number of hero schools across Japan, but U.A. is not only the best, but the closest. There, he could learn how to be a hero properly. He could do it. He could show them all he has what it takes to be a hero. Kacchan, All Might, all his teachers and classmates who doubted him, his mom, he'd show them all.
As simple as it is, the plan is still a little rough.
Clean up Dagobah Beach, using my new powers.
Simple and to the point; but where would the trash go? He could haul it to scrap yards that would take it, or maybe pile it up in only one corner of the beach, where he could get someone to pick it up when he isn't there. Maybe he could take the smaller things and sell them for extra cash, and the larger things he could leave and let someone else take them? Extra cash would be very handy.
What could he do with his powers? He doesn't know his limits yet. He doesn't even know how to measure them properly! But he does, as he does best; he starts jotting down even more notes in his thirteenth journal.
My Quirk Powers
Name: "Ghost"
(I don't even know if I need to even name this really, but this feels right somehow)
Invisibility
Intangibility/Phasing
Floating (could also be full flight?)
Electrical interference
Enhanced senses
Healing factor
Somehow, I don't feel like this is it
CAUSE:
Electrical accident in the basement of an abandoned building on Jaku Street, in something called the "Fenton Ghost Portal". Does that mean the Accident killed me? I still have a heat heartbeat and I'm still breathing, which leads to another question—
What am I?
…What is he?
"--Izuku?"
He snaps his head up. He was so lost in the zone of writing, that he hadn't realized his mom had walked in. Izuku tries to nervously close his notebook and turn his desk chair to face his mom.
"Sorry, mom! I was, um. Lost in thought." Izuku says. His mom laughs and flicks the light overhead on. He hadn't even noticed when the sun had gone down; he'd been sitting in the dark.
"I could tell, sweetie. If you're gonna stay up later, you should at least have your light on. You'll strain your eyes, Izuku." His mom says, smiling. "Also, good news. I managed to get this Saturday off. So, we can… We can do whatever you want, Izuku. Together."
A day with his mom? They hadn't had one in ages. Definitely not since before his accident. I should tell her, he thinks, but smiles at his mom, "That sounds… great, Mom."
"Yeah. I did have to cover someone's shifts for the next few Saturdays, so you'll be on your own for those nights, but we can at least go to the mall, or get dinner out somewhere. How does that sound?"
"Perfect." Izuku replies. He pauses. Gets a thought. "Hey, um. Mom?"
"Yes, Izuku?"
"Do…" He takes a deep breath, trying to not think of the journal in front of him. He doubts his mom would be able to read any of the writing in it with the angle she's at; also, Izuku's handwriting is a little atrocious. "Do you think there's more out there than just quirks?"
Izuku's mom hesitates, for a moment. She cocks her head to the side. Looks Izuku up and down, before shrugging. "I mean, I don't know, sweetie. There's not a lot of evidence for that stuff, right?"
"...Right." Izuku turns back to his notebook. Number thirteen. Bad luck.
"But I can't say I'm not an optimist about stuff." She adds. "Maybe there is– we don't know a lot about quirks, or even about the world." Izuku's mom leans in and fluffs up Izuku's hair. "I'm sure you'd be able to figure that out, with that big brain of yours."
"Mooomm…" Izuku flushes, pushing his hand away. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no. Which is… Good. Really good. But then again, he doesn't know how to tell her the truth about what really happened the day of the accident. He needs to think it over a bit, to get the words right, so she doesn't freak out. Izuku's freaked out enough. But if he can prove to her that he can control these powers, and use them for good, maybe that'll be enough.
"What brought this up?"
"I—um, nothing, just thinking."
Izuku's mom chuckles. "Well, maybe those things can exist. Maybe someone out there has a quirk like it. You'd be the one to figure that stuff out, not me." She wraps her arms around Izuku's shoulders, pulling him in for an awkward one-person standing, one-person sitting hug. It was nice, though.
She was… she was warm.
"Thanks, Mom."
"--Oh, you're still cold, Izuku!" She pulls back quickly, grabbing a loose blanket (Present Mic-printed, not an All Might print), and drapes it around him. "You sure you've been feeling better?"
"I'm—I'm fine. The doctors said it might be a side effect from the, um. The accident, remember?" He clears his throat. "Anyway, uh, I should probably get to bed. I've got a test in math tomorrow, and I don't want to, uh, fall asleep in the middle of it!" His lying could use a bit of work, but his mom is none the wiser.
"Right. Well, goodnight, sweetie. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Love you, mom."
"Love you, too, Izuku." She quietly shuts the door behind him, leaving him alone in his room.
Of course, he doesn't go to sleep. It's one of his nights where he stays awake, and on this night, he tosses his notebook number thirteen, a couple of pens, and a bottle of water into his bag and when he can tell his mom fully falls asleep for the night, he leaves out the front door again, on his way to Dagobah Beach, to finalize his plans.
✨👻✨
Equinox tells the other ghosts that he doesn't fully remember his halfa days, especially the earlier days, but in truth, he remembers them quite well.
The strange confusion at the new senses, the buzz of his core underneath his skin, the feeling of not quite right, not quite life, not quite death. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember those feelings. It got better as he interacted with more ghosts from the Realms, of course. When humans die, and become ghosts—or denizens of the Realms, as some call them—they already know everything there is to be about being a ghost. They have that built-in knowledge once they form. I am a ghost, my obsession is this. They don't change, they don't grow.
But Equinox—when he was still human, when he was still Danny—didn't have that. Neither did Vlad; but he had years before Danny to master his own otherworldly abilities, and even then, he didn't have the potential that Danny had been remade for. He wasn't chosen by the Realms to be the Champion of Balance; Danny had been chosen.
Now, Equinox sits in the Clocktower, watching the screens his once mentor took much time to tend to, watching as the newest champion begins his own journey.
"Equinox." Clockwork's voice echoes above him. The Ancient of Time floats down, to stay right next to him. Their face is indecipherable, even more so in their child form; he can't tell exactly what they're feeling, or what they're thinking. "It is late, is it not?"
"Maybe." Equinox curves his ghostly tail into him, pulling it into his chest.
"You don't need to be watching the new Champion. All is as it should be."
"I know, I know. I just—" Equinox sighs. "When I first died and became the first Champion, the ghost portal was there, and it was giving me a connection to the Zone so I could learn everything about being a ghost. But he—he doesn't have that. The Liminal Space is gone, now, and there's no telling if it will ever come back, and he's just on his own. And I hate it."
"I am aware, Equinox," Clockwork says. "Everyone's journey will not be the same. That would make life rather dull, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess, but—I hate not knowing what's going to happen to him. Not even you know what's going to happen to him, and you're the Ancient of Time."
"I never knew what would happen to you, either. I never knew whether you would fall to your violent urges and level off Amity Park, or whether you would rise above and become the Realms' greatest hero. My worries grew tenfold when you defeated Pariah Dark many years ago. Even though I was never supposed to grow attached to any particular timeline, you changed that." Clockwork shifts from child to adult, but their maturity remains the same. "Yet you even tore apart time itself in order to save your friends and family. Have faith in the new Champion, my friend."
"I'll… I'll try." Equinox says, leaning back. "I guess I should give you some, heh, space, then?"
"It would be appreciated. Even though you are an Ancient now, you should still seek some rest, or distraction from this, for a bit." Clockwork says, with a small smirk, not acknowledging Equinox's horrible pun. "Before you go, Equinox… You are not an Observant as I am. Remember that."
Right, right. When he'd established the Council so many years ago and ascended into an Ancient, Equinox made it his mission to avoid being drafted into their all-seeing, never interfering nonsense. Of course, the Council voted to stay as neutral as possible, only interfering a bit if they must, as long as a vote was cast. That's why the Alpha Timeline B-HNA had been set forward faster in human evolution compared to the other timelines, and why many small changes had been made to stabilize other timelines, too.
However, he typically had no reason to interfere on his own, and if he did, it would be seen socially as unbecoming, because of his Council position. But he was an adult ghost who could make his own adult ghost decisions now.
Hm. Well, he wouldn't directly interfere, but as the Ancient of Space, if one of the ghosts that had become his allies, or had a debt to pay to him, ended up near the new Champion to help him, well—Equinox would neither confirm nor deny it was his doing.
With a large, toothy smirk, Equinox flew off into the Realms to find that ghost.
✨👻✨
"Midoriya, uh, a moment before you go, please?"
The day had started pretty long for Izuku. It was day one of his "Clear Dagobah Beach" mission, and while he had been pretty successful to the plan (a fridge had been moved to the side of the road, where someone would pick it up to sell for their own; Izuku took a box full of microwaves and scrapped kitchen appliances to a scrap metal place and gotten quite a wad of cash for it), Izuku's body ached like crazy.
He was still a little new to his 'Quirk', and still figuring out how exactly to activate it. It acted on its own when he was in danger, instinctually, but never off his own volition, which was annoying.
And, of course, it was a school day. He got home, showered, and headed off to Aldera, where it was hell like any other day. A few kids his age from the other homeroom class surrounded him in the entrance hall, spitting taunts and screaming profanities in his face because he dared to bump into one of them. He took it all, as he usually did.
So, it isn't a surprise that something else would happen. As his classmates cleared off their desks and headed out to lunch, one of them sneered, "Oooh, Midoriya's in trouble!" as they left.
Izuku nervously walks to the front of the classroom. The light above his desk, that he had accidentally burst the other day, still wasn't on, which set the classroom in a bit of darkness, even with bright sunlight pouring in.
Okoru-sensei organizes a pile of papers in front of him. "I wanted to talk to you about something we've previously discussed. You put in an application to U.A."
"Y-Yes, sir." Izuku forgot that his teachers would be able to see his application, and they might be contacted for personal statements. Though the applications wouldn't be outright denied if a personal statement was less than ideal for a student, it was a good baseline for the school to whether or not he would be able to take any test at their school. Not quite a black mark, but the possibility of one— though, at Aldera, Izuku knows he's probably accumulated a few black marks against his behavior (for nothing but defending himself, of course).
Okoru-sensei looks him in the eye. There's a bit of anger, but mostly… Disappointment. His teacher had pulled him aside a few days before the accident, and asked the same thing—are you sure that you want to apply for the hero department? With your grades, you could at least get into their general education department, and wouldn't that be enough?
It's too dangerous to risk your life like this, he had said. Or it felt like that's what he said.
"I advised against it multiple times, didn't I?" Not just that one time, either. And not just Okoru-sensei, either. Any time a teacher caught wind that Izuku was going to try for U.A. they would all find a way to crush Izuku's dream in whatever way they could.
"Y-yes, but—"
"A few of your other teachers here at Aldera and I agreed that it would be best if we informed U.A. of your… biological limitations when we were asked for personal statements. Not to mention, you had only had that accident a few weeks ago, and while you are up and moving around, there's nothing to say you won't get in another one at U.A., and it would be their responsibility." Okoru-sensei explains.
No. No, no, no. Izuku bit his lip to avoid the feeling that was rising up in his throat. His core starts to hum, louder and louder, WHY-NO-DON'T-NO-HURT, the lights above flicker overhead. He does his best to squash the feelings building up inside of him.
"I am just trying to look out for you as my student, Midoriya." Okoru-sensei pulls out a folder of papers. Probably alternative schools to apply to. Izuku takes the folder as its handed to him, though he doesn't plan to keep it. He'll probably tear it to shreds the moment he's alone. "You're just not cut out to be a hero, and it's about time you got a wake-up call for your silly dream."
He pushes the feelings down enough to feel empty. He looks down at the folder, and he doesn't even want to open it. The lights stop flickering overhead, at least; Okoru-sensei looks him in the eye, though Izuku can't quite ignore the slight… terror, his teacher has in them. The temperature of the room has dropped a few noticeable degrees, and with the lights flickering like they have been, maybe his teacher is beginning to believe the rumors that Aldera's haunted.
"Alright, you can go to lunch, now. Don't expect to hear anything from U.A.'s hero department, now." Okoru-sensei waves his hand, and Izuku nods. He slides the classroom door behind him shut with a soft thud.
He had a plan. Clean Dagobah Beach was his plan to learn how to use his powers, to try and catch up to his peers, to just try to get into U.A., or any other hero school. But now those chances were shot. If he tried for any other hero school, they would contact Aldera, and the same thing would happen. He'd get kicked out before any of it began.
U.A. even got rid of their Quirkless rule the previous year, so there had been a chance, but a chance he wasn't going to be able to take, because his damn teachers, his damn life, was so impossibly against him.
Izuku makes his way to the nearest bathroom, where he immediately tears the folder he's been handed to shreds. Nobody would believe he could be a hero. Nobody could ever believe in him. The world's failed him, and there's no changing that.
"Take a swan-dive off the roof, and pray you're born with a Quirk in the next life!"
It wouldn't do any good, now; the swan-dive. Izuku's pretty sure he's a little more resistant to death, now, being… Well, whatever he is, he isn't quite sure yet. But he isn't Quirkless, not anymore. He has power, he wants to use it for good, but—
What if…
No. No, Izuku, no, he shakes his head at himself. It's a stupid thought. He didn't even know where to start with that idea.
But if I don't technically have a Quirk or a Quirk Factor, I'm not breaking any laws, am I? He thinks, making his way over to the sink, where he can look at his reflection in the mirror. For a second, his vision flashes—white hair, cyan eyes, there's more to this power than I know—but it's replaced by his normal reflection a moment later.
No, that's a stupid idea. You're only gonna get yourself killed…
The lights flicker overhead again. Izuku looks into the mirror.
…You can't kill something that's already dead.
Chapter 6: This Isn't What I Was Expecting
The Entrance Exams are, as always, quite dull for Shouta.
Of course, he pays attention. He's paid— rather handsomely— to do so. He keeps his eyes peeled for any sort of true potential. There's quite a lot in this year's class, too.
He also tries to avoid suspicion of favoritism over Shinsou. Of course, he's been training the boy for months, and it'd be illogical to lie and say he wasn'tproud of how far the boy had come. Even though Shinsou was still a teen, he'd managed to put on a decent bit of muscle. The lean and lithe sort of muscle a dancer would have. The boy weaves through robots with a pipe in one hand, taking out robot after robot. He helps other students as well, too; he isn't aware of the rescue points, but Shinsou's reaction to the danger around him isn't to just beat 'em up, but to make sure everyone is okay.
A good quality to have.
"Oh, wow, look at student number 667!" Nedzu says, pulling Shouta out of his thoughts. The big screen changes to focus on the student that the principal is talking about— a boy that Shouta recognizes as Bakugou Katsuki. Great potential for heroics, if his teachers had anything to say about it.
And they had a lot to say about it. Unending praise—Shouta's a little alarmed by the amount of praise that the boy got, compared to how he's currently acting. Things aren't adding up.
"Looks like he's on track to getting the highest score ever since All Might!" Vlad exclaims.
"Without any rescue points." Shouta adds. He puts a mental tab on that. He wants Bakugou Katsuki in his class. If the boy was as… explosive as his quirk, he needed a level-headed teacher to instruct him.
Not Vlad.
"While on the other hand, we have student number 432," Nedzu says. The camera refocuses on Shinsou. Shouta bites back a prideful smile. Not now. "Very low in terms of villain points, but…"
Multiple quick re-plays occur of Shinsou helping fellow contestants. Getting a group of people to help drag a girl out from under smashed rubble from someone else's quirk. Distracting robots that were targeting unsuspecting students. It flickers back to a live feed, showing multiple angles of other students, flickering between them.
"Ah, does nobody have potential, Aizawa?" Vlad asks with a smirk, nudging him with a teasing tone.
Shouta rolls his eyes. Nedzu leans into All Might— whose civilian form Shouta still needs a bit of time getting used to, so much had happened that day between getting ready for the exams, Nedzu should have told him sooner— to explain the beef.
"Quite a few. It'd be illogical to assume that nobody applying for an exam like this would." He retorts. A few gasps in the room. Their banter is usually like this, though. As much as he detests Vlad King, there's not total animosity there. He can work with the other man amicably. But they do get on each other's nerves, quite a bit. "I won't tell you who, though."
"Aww, c'mon, 'Zawa!" Hizashi adds, leaning in with a smirk. "You don't want Vlad getting the students you want?" Shouta rolls his eyes and returns to the feeds. A silent signal for everyone to stop.
Still, he can't help but watch, and wonder about the students before him. The potential is there. The potential is there in everybody, realistically; nobody ought to be defined by their Quirk, as much as society relies on it. From louder, flashy Quirks like Bakugou Katsuki's Explosion, Kaminari Denki's Electrification, or Iida Tenya's Engine, to the quieter quirks like Shinsou Hitoshi and Brainwashing or Monoma Neito's Copy, there seemed to be decent pickings this year.
It'll be tricky to root out the good ones for his class. But he'll do his best to snag them all before Vlad can get to them, again.
You miss one Entrance Exam because of a literal stab wound, and he takes all the good students…
No matter. He's sure that he'll get the students he wants more, and will work better with-- Nedzu will be a tie breaker and will wave things more in Shouta's favor, just as he had years before.
Except last year, of course.
Damn stab wound.
✨👻✨
Izuku feels a pang of jealousy when their sensei pulls Bakugou to the front of the class to announce he made it into U.A. The boy beams with energy and delight at the praise he gets showered with, meanwhile Izuku is stuck in the back of the classroom, wondering what exactly his teachers said about him to get his application rejected.
He should be up there. The energy in his chest buzzes in anger. He'd gotten a letter from U.A. few days after Okoru-sensei spoke to him. Izuku didn't want to open it. He knew what it said.
Dear Quirkless Loser,
We're NOT sorry you can't get in because you're too useless. Hopefully, this won't send you on a villain arc LMAO!
K thnx bye,
-- U.A.
…Well, it wouldn't be that dramatic, but that's probably what it does say, and Izuku doesn't want to see any of it.
He sinks into his desk a little more.
"Bakugou, we'd love to give you a sincere congratulations for your acceptance into U.A.!" Okoru-sensei is full of pride for a student who he's probably going to talk about in the news as an absolute darling of a student when Kacchan goes pro. Because he has such a powerful quirk.
Of course. Quirks.
It always came down to Quirks.
Once upon a time, they were something Izuku reveled in. He loved them more than he loved himself, most of the time. He and his mother had spent hundreds of dollars on quirk-related books about theory and application before he had The Accident. He'd spend nights dreaming and praying to every god and every pantheon for a quirk.
But now? He didn't know exactly what to feel.
The Accident was horrible. His fingers on his right hand go numb occasionally— rarer now than it once was, at least— but the scar was still there, a permanent reminder. He had a chance-- a chance to chase his dreams. Maybe if he'd said something sooner, hadn't waffled about on his new powers, this situation could be avoided.
But it wasn't enough. Izuku is never enough. No matter how hard he tries.
There's always another way, his brain supplies for him. The thought of doing that—of saying screw the system, I'm gonna be a hero no matter what—makes his core hum with excitement. Even with his work on Dagobah, he doesn't feel like he's making any progress with his abilities, past not accidentally activating them. It feels like there's some sort of block there, preventing him from fully accessing his abilities, and he can't quite figure that out. But by now, at least; he's not turning invisible and falling through things as often as he once was.
He wonders if his mother is content now that his dreams were crushed by everyone. By his teachers. By other heroes. By society.
…By All Might.
Be realistic. Take a swan dive off the roof. What would it hurt, anyway? Maybe if you did, maybe there would be consequences for once. Maybe the crushing pain would go away—
Okay, nope. No, bad thoughts. Izuku pushes that away and goes back to focusing on the other bad thoughts he was trying to avoid because contemplating becoming a vigilante was a better place for his brain to be than contemplating, well—taking a lot of people's advice.
Well, there is a bright side to it all; the announcement of Bakugou Katsuki being Aldera's first and only student attending U.A means that Izuku isn't going to have to deal with Kacchan ever again. No more burnt school uniforms, no more suicide baits, nothing. He's jealous, of course, of the other boy's Quirk and power, but there's a bright side to everything, as his mom likes to say.
The final bell rings, and class gets dismissed for the day. Izuku isn't on any cleaning duty for the afternoon, so he grabs his things, and ducks out of the classroom as fast as he can.
There's always another way, Izuku…
✨👻✨
The beach cleaning is going by slower than Izuku wants it to, but he's happy with the progress, nonetheless. Most of the smaller bits of trash he's collected have been sold as scrap metal and cleared out. The larger, heavier bits like the literal refrigerators and stoves and old CRT televisions were being picked up by someone—Izuku doesn't know who, exactly, but he leaves them near the street and someone comes to pick them up and hauling them away. Hopefully they aren't being used for evilpurposes, but Izuku wipes his hands clear of that because they could've raided the beach long before then for the trash and didn't.
He was also expecting to gain, maybe, a little bit of muscle. It's been a slog of two months, going out for three nights a week, clearing what he can between one and three in the morning, before walking across town to get to the scrap metal trader when they open up at 4 am. But despite everything, he's hardly gained any muscle. His limbs are definitely stronger than before, but his body is still rather small. He's lither than before, at least; but that's hardly anychange.
He told his mom he's doing morning runs, not cleaning up trash at Dagobah beach, if he ever gets home late. The money he gets from the scrap metal either gets tucked inside his mom's wallet when she isn't paying attention, or in a small shoe box under Izuku's bed.
It's not much, but it's a little more cash than Izuku's used to getting.
There's a good section cleared out, right by the waves, where Izuku can sit and watch the sunrise some mornings, if he wants to.
It's peaceful, despite knowing those same waves took his dad from him before he was born. Midoriya Hisashi was a utility worker on a ship, which took him away from Musutafu a lot, but Midoriya Inko never loved him any less for it. It was a tragic accident at sea, an unexpected storm, that took his dad away. Despite knowing the tumultuous relationship Izuku's family has with the sea, there's no denying that the rush of the waves on the beach don't help calm Izuku's mind when he watches the waves.
One morning after a particularly rough haul finds him staring at the waves as the sun rises again. Moving a fridge ended up with him discovering he somehow has enhanced strength as well and dropping it on top of himself out of shock. He managed to turn intangible and climb out of it, unharmed and only a little mentally scarred from the incident. Not the way Izuku wanted to learn what the inside of a fridge looked like, though.
After that, he kept it pretty simple, keeping only to the microwaves. He could work on the strength when he wasn't too shaky from accidentally dropping a fridge on his whole body. As the sun begins to rise, Izuku grabs his bottle of water, and sits in the clearing he'd made at the beach and starts to watch the waves.
Izuku doesn't even register when he hiccups for the first time. Hiccups weren't that common for him, unless he'd just had a good cry or gotten himself out of a panic attack, but it isn't something he gets a lot.
Hiccup.
He groans mid-hiccup, twisting something in his chest, which makes him want to groan again. He hates the hiccups. They come on so suddenly, and it's all Izuku can focus on now. After everything that's happened over the last few weeks, having something normal and mundane happen to him is nice. But it's still… off.
He hiccups, again. And a small puff of air, a small cloud, comes out of his mouth.
…What?
Izuku covers his mouth with his hands, stifling another hiccup. He watches the tiny cloud float up a bit into the air, before veering to the left, and then behind him into the maze of trash, and dissolving.
"What is even going on anymore," Izuku says, exasperated. He hiccups again, and another cloud pops out of his mouth. They look like small, cirrocumulus clouds, the white and fluffy ones that fly high in the sky. It, too, veers to the left, making it deeper into the trash maze, where Izuku can't see it dissolve.
It's like… His hiccups are leading him to something. Someone? Somewhere? Mystery hiccups now, too?
Alright. Well, curiosity can't kill the cat any more than it already has. Izuku pushes himself back up, leaving his bottle of water in the sand where he was sitting, and waits for another hiccup.
Hiccup. The small cloud is a lot faster now, but Izuku keeps up with it as it disappears into the junk surrounding him. Hiccup.
Not the best of abilities to develop suddenly. Hiccupping clouds? How does that even relate to ghost-stuff?
The hiccups lead him through the trash, and towards the street. Another hiccup takes him to the road where he usually leaves the larger pieces of trash by to get picked up. The fridge that crushed him earlier is still there, and Izuku notices the accidental dent he made in the sidewalk when he dropped it (but, to be fair, Izuku wasn't expecting to be able to carry it, he had dragged all the other ones he'd dropped off before). His pause gets interrupted by another hiccup, and the cloud points him down an alleyway.
Izuku looks around, nervously, before poking around the corner.
There's someone else in the alleyway. Which is strange, because Izuku doesn't think he heard anybody before. Their back is turned to him, and all Izuku can see is a black slouch hat and a black-and-red trench coat, long enough to be hitting the ground.
What stands out the most, though, is that this person is glowing.
Despite his instincts telling him to leave it alone, Izuku's too curious to not keep watching.
(What happened last time you got curious? You DIED, you idiot!)
The person steps back, where Izuku can see a small plate full of wet cat food. They throw the can and lid of the can into the dumpster right next to where they stand, and a shy cat comes out of the shadows, poking at the food with its tongue.
"There you go. Good kitty…" There's a dissonant echo to the person's words. It doesn't quite sound like Japanese, or any other language Izuku knows (which is marginally more English than his classmates, since his dad was American), but he also understands it perfectly. They turn around, and Izuku tries to not gasp in shock.
This person—person? —is completely gray, and has no face, whatsoever. The only thing they have are old glasses with red lenses, but even then, Izuku isn't sure how they're staying on this person's face with no ears or nose. Everything is smooth, like a cheap morph suit costume, but unsettlingly too real.
"Oh." And the person sees Izuku. He steps back, trying to pretend he wasn't caught, but when he turns to run the other way, the person(?) is right there.
Izuku yelps, falling back.
"You did see me!" The person says. They don't have any legs. They're floating.
Something in Izuku's core resonates, a bit, and he feels the hiccups ease. Does that mean…
"Must be one of your fancy human powers, being able to see and understand ghosts, yeah? Though, I'm pretty sure that power or not, everybody should be able to at least see a denizen…"
"D-Denizen?"
"Yeah, denizens are the official name, but we're colloquially known as ghosts." The ghost pauses, and Izuku imagines if they had a face, they'd be narrowing their eyes at Izuku. "You seem familiar, greenie."
"I—I don't—" Izuku feels his core rumble with confusion. Who-what-who--
Something else buzzes back, in a language Izuku knows deeply and intimately, despite never hearing before. CONFUSION-GHOST-BABY? The ghost looks Izuku up and down, before reeling back. "Oh, Ancients. You're— No. No way."
"W-What? What are you talking about? Who are you?"
The ghost looks like they're about to say something, but they clear their throat. If they even have a throat? They make the sound as if they have a throat, at least, before their face starts morphing and changing, shifting into a mouth with teeth. Too many teeth, definitely about 40, all pointed and razor-sharp.
"Well. My name is Amorphous D. Shifter, but my friends and enemies call me Amorpho." The ghost introduces. They stretch out a hand—and Izuku is hesitant, but he reaches out and returns the shake. They notice Izuku's uneasiness, and their mouth disappears back into their slate-gray skin. "My apologies. I am still trying to learn the human customs, but I can never get the mouth right."
KIND-NICE-HI BABY.
Izuku's mouth is full of cotton, but he hesitates to share his name with this strange person—ghost. "W-Why are you calling me a baby?"
"Well, you're a baby."
"I'm—I'm fourteen." Almost. Close enough to count.
"Well, in human years, you were. But in ghost time, you've been dead for, like, a month? Maybe a little more? My core is just recognizing you as a baby." Amorpho explains, crossing their arms. "Though, you're not exactly all the way dead, are you?"
"What? What are you talking—talking about?"
"I mean, we're ghosts, but you're definitely different.." Amorpho says, as if it explains anything. It doesn't, really. "What's your name, greenie?"
"M-Midoriya—"
"No, not your living name." Amorpho sighs, pinching the bride of where their nose should be.. "Ancients, do you not know anything?"
Izuku shakes his head.
"I thought—well, maybe cause Billy's parents…" Amorpho trails off, silently. Who's Billy? An American? "Look, kid, did you happen to step into any sort of weird, mysterious, glowing portals, recently? Or get into something that gave you a bit of a zap?"
Izuku glances down at his right hand, before silently nodding.
"Great. Great. Of course, I have to be—" ANNOYED-SAD-UPSET, HOW? Amorpho sighs. "I hate to break it to you like this, greenie, but you kinda died."
"I—I um, figured?"
"Okay, good, good. You're smarter than him, at least… But you didn't fully die."
"U-um. What?"
It was something he was kinda aware of already—he died, but he didn't fully die. Not as in, he was revived after temporarily dying. But something deeper. Something that changed his body irrevocably.
"It's a rare thing, I'm not quite sure how it happens, but sometimes, if a human is exposed to enough ectoplasmic energy when they die, it brings them back, and turns them into… Well, we've called them halfas in the past, but I'm not sure if that's entirely politically correct anymore? It's been a while since I've been out of the 'Zone…" Amorpho trails off, mumbling things Izuku doesn't understand.
But Izuku doesn't need to understand anything else. He focuses on the one word that the ghost said.
Halfas… Half-ghost, half-human? Ectoplasmic energy?
Something clicks in Izuku. The answers to all of his questions just stumbled into his path, after not being able to find anything for a month. Izuku thought he'd be all on his own, but not anymore—
He looks at Amorpho, the ghost floating in front of him. "P-Please, tell me more!"
Chapter 7: Ghost 101: What To Expect When You've Untimely Expired
While Cores can take anywhere between a few months to a few human years to develop, the first thing that a ghost is aware of once they form is their Obsession.
Obsessions are, simply, what drives a ghost to continue existing. Ghosts are more than just ectoplasmically charged emotions, they are also parts of a human soul, determined to keep on going after an untimely death. The Obsession is the driver for that determination. A ghost unsatisfied with life, having missed a goal or dream they wished to achieve, may form an Obsession around that. The strength of the ghost is determined by their specific Obsession.
For example, if a ghost forms after being murdered by someone they trusted, their Obsession may be justice or the truth, where they will continue to haunt their killer until justice is served, and they will be able to move on into the Beyond. As long as their killer is free, they will exist, seeking justice or vengeance. Their strength is dependent on how badly they felt betrayed, or how badly they wish to see justice prevail.
On the other hand, a ghost who dies and leaves family behind and worries for their family may form their Obsession around their family. They might be weaker, but longer lasting, than most other ghosts, depending on whether they attach to a specific family member, or their lineage. Usually, these ghosts weaken into spirits overtime, if they do not eventually join their family in the Beyond.
Obsessions can be changed, if a ghost wills it enough, though typically this could end in destruction or serious harm to their core.
Halfas, however, are different from most denizens. As they have not fully died, they still have a connection to life and humanity, and thusly, the nature of change. Their Obsessions are more fluid than other ghosts due to this. While it isn't common for ghosts to form more than one Obsession, Halfas are able to have upwards of two or three Obsessions at one time, and they are able to change and adapt and grow depending on the ghost's will with very little damage to their core.
-- "All About Ghosts and Obsessions—A Ectoanthropological Study by Dr. Jasmine Fenton, PhD, 2007."
✨👻✨
"Oh, are you sure about this, Izuku?" His mom asks.
They both hover over Izuku's laptop. On the screen is the highest-rated online school in Japan. Totally remote; aside from exams. The classes could be taken at the student's own pace, until the final exams scheduled at the end of each semester.
The program also offered a need-based scholarship program, which the Midoriya family definitely qualified for. In fact, Izuku had already put in all of their information, wrote the whole essay on why he would need it (leaving out his Quirkless status, which doesn't even count for the program anyway), and they'd gotten an email saying that it'd be a full ride. A full ride for the highest-rated online high school in all of Japan.
Not too shabby, Izuku thinks to himself.
"I'm—I'm sure."
"You won't be getting the regular high school experience with this, you know." His mom repeats.
"I know." Izuku knows, one day, he'll tell her everything—about the bullying, about the cruelty of his teachers and classmates—but it isn't now. And really, if he can't get into a hero school, what's the point of trying to get into an actual high school, where his classmates could be just as cruel as before?
Plus, "regular high school" experiences are overrated, anyway.
"You'll be alone a lot, though. Not just we me working, Izuku. I don't know if you're going to make friends with this. Are you absolutely sure about this?"
"Yes, mom." Izuku nods.
"Okay, well— we can do this, under one condition."
Izuku pauses and turns to look up at his mom.
"I just want you to try and find some sort of after-school program, or club to join." His mom says. It's a little unfortunate that socialization, which is what Izuku is trying to avoid, is the condition to go to this school, but Izuku can see why she's making him do this. Making him try, at least; Izuku doesn't know what sort of clubs would be successful for someone like him, but, well.
He'd try. If this is the condition for a relatively peaceful education for once in his life, he'd try it for her.
"Sure. I'll—I'll, um. Try."
✨👻✨
"Hey, greenie. There you are."
Amorpho does spook Izuku just a little bit, even with Izuku's warning hiccups, but it's fine.
It's two weeks into what Amorpho is quite literally calling "Ghost 101: What To Expect When You've Untimely Expired" (copyright pending, apparently). They're calling it half-lecture, half-practical, which makes Izuku wonder if Amorpho had any experience with educational settings when they were alive, but Izuku can't ask that information.
"Rule number one about ghosts—never, ever, ask how they died. Or who they were in life."
Fair enough, Izuku supposes. He does get uncomfortable when strangers ask about the scars that travel up his arm. He's just lucky that he runs cold enough now that a long-sleeved shirt in the summertime doesn't bother him. But still, Izuku's curious about Amorpho's life. Maybe they'll share with Izuku one day, voluntarily.
"Think of a name yet?"
"Rule number—er, five? Six? I've lost count—don't use your living name with other ghosts."
"N-Not yet." Izuku replies, hunching over a bit. Greenie is just Amorpho's nickname for him at the moment, since a ghost's living name is, like, very important, or something? Izuku isn't quite sure he grasps the concept all the way, but it's like some pro heroes who still have secret identities. It keeps the life separate from the afterlife; whatever had happened in their life, has no hold over them now, but maybe some ghosts don't want to hear it so they don't have to relive their living memories?
It's strange for Izuku, since he's still, y'know, half-alive, so maybe that's why he doesn't quite get it yet.
"You'll think of something. It took me a few times before I settled on my name." Amorpho says. "Anyway, I think it's time for a more practical lesson today."
He resists the urge to groan; Amorpho's practicallessons are the worst. Maybe the ghost had a background in some sort of physical education or training—as funny as it would be to think of Amorpho has a gym teacher, it doesn't feel right—because there was something sadistic about their practicallessons.
Apparently, the reason Izuku is having trouble accessing his full set of ghost powers—yeah, a full set, so there's probably more than Izuku can keep track of—is because he isn't in his "ghost form" yet, something that all halfas tend to have. His ectoplasm is leaking out through his human form because he's not using his ghost form enough, and he's off balance.
"Relax, relax, greenie. I'm not gonna try to fully kill you."
Izuku glares at Amorpho.
"Fully. This time. Ancients, the fridge was unintentional."
At least Izuku has experience with fridges landing and crushing his body, so he knew what the inside of one looked like already. That wasn't a shock. It suddenly dropping on him from five feet above him? That was a shock.
"What's the lesson, then?"
The ghost floats around Izuku, humming an unfamiliar tune, before pushing him down to his bottom. "Trying to shock you into your ghost form isn't working, so we're going to try a more… meditative, approach."
Meditative? How so? Izuku wants to ask, but he knows interrupting Amorpho can cause both of them to go on unrelated tangents. He wonders if Amorpho was diagnosed with ADHD or something when they were alive, but kicks that thought aside.
"You can feel it, can't you? Your core. It feels different for everybody, but even though you're a halfa, it should still be there." Amorpho curls their ghostly tail in, getting lower to the ground but still floating a few inches off the sand. "I think, if you focus on it enough, you should be able to get yourself to transform just by…. I dunno, pulling on it?"
"I thought you didn't know anything about halfas."
"Still really don't. I'm basing this off myshapeshifting, greenie." Amorpho says. "Now, close your eyes and focus, already!"
So Izuku does. He crosses his legs, closes his eyes, and focuses on the buzzing underneath his skin.
It's an odd sensation, one that he's come to accept and find comfort in over the last month since his accident. The hum of his core, deep in his chest, stretching out to his limbs whenever he goes invisible, or intangible, or the feeling of weightlessness whenever he floats even just an inch off the ground, it's comforting, in the same way a hot mug of tea or a warm hug from his mom is.
As he's focusing on it, he feels a cold shadow fall over him.
"Amorpho, if I open my eyes and see a fridge over me again, I swear—"
✨👻✨
With what extra money Izuku has from cleaning the beach, he finds himself wandering into multiple different stores one rainy afternoon. Despite the ambiance of a storm above him, he feels—rather content, surprisingly, given the last time he wandered around in public in a storm led to his death.
His death wasn't all that bad, really; it was painful and it sucked, sure. He doesn't know if he'll ever get the feeling back in his right arm quite right. But it led him to something even more amazing—something he dreamed about for as long as he could remember.
Even if he couldn't achieve it his dreams the typical way.
He wanders in and out of stores, just looking, keeping himself small and meekly to keep eyes off him. It isn't a power of his in the way that his invisibility or intangibility are, it's a carefully practiced skill for existing as a Quirkless person in public. Put headphones on, seem smaller than you appear, and the world will look past you. It was the better outcome of just existing in public for Izuku.
He wanders into a sports store. The shelves are packed high with different sports equipment. Cricket bats, baseball bats, hockey sticks, boxing gloves, ice skates—he isn't quite sure what he wanders in here for, but once he spots it, he knows what he's going to get.
It isn't the best protection, but it's something. Knee pads, elbow pads, wrist braces, and padded fingerless gloves.
The cashier gives him an odd look when he piles all of his to-be belongings on the counter, but doesn't particularly care about what a small child is going to do with knee pads and elbow pads. Maybe skating. She checks him out anyway, popping her bubblegum loudly as she hands him the receipt and the bag.
He finds himself in a thrift store, next. Thrift stores are usually the best place for Izuku to get clothes, even outside of… Well, what he was doing, he was embarrassed to even admit it to himself, because it might be a stupid idea, but it's something he feels like he has to do. Deep down in his core.
He picks up a dark gray hoodie and durable pants his size. The hoodie is a little over-sized, but when he tries it on with the dark pants in the changing room, and slips the knee and elbow braces over it, he sees himself in the mirror and he looks like a vigilante—
It's just a thought. He throws the pads back into their bag, purchases his hoodie, and is on his way quickly.
This is a dumb idea, he thinks to himself, as he catches the train that'll take him back to his apartment faster than walking. But it might be the only way I can be a hero, now.
✨👻✨
They're sitting on the beach again. Izuku's done with his 'meditation' for today—that's the easiest thing to call it, since 'trying to transform into my ghost form' is a little bit of a mouthful in his head, after all. He's in his human form (still, hasn't gotten ahold of that yet), and Amorpho has taken the form of a young teenager this time, almost a mirror copy of Izuku with messy hair that covers one of his two bright, red eyes. It's weird, seeing his own face reflected back at him, but Amorpho hasn't had a human to practice on in a while, so it's fine to copy Izuku as long as no shenanigans happen.
(Amorpho has promised none of that, which means something might end up happening.)
He's staring at the waves as the sun comes up, enjoying a brief moment of tranquility, when a question pops into his mind. "Hey, um, Amorpho?"
"Yeah, greenie?"
"Do—uh. Um. How come there aren't more ghosts around? Ghosts form after violent deaths, right? Shouldn't they, y'know, be… everywhere?" Since he'd been half-killed, Amorpho is the only ghost that Izuku has met so far. But with how violent life has just become, especially in Musutafu, there should be more around, from victims of villains, or even villains killed ruthlessly by heroes.
Or people who perished in accidents, like his own father.
"Well, it's… It's a lot more complicated than just the violent death part." Amorpho says. "I'm not too sure of it myself, but I think because the way Quirks work, it prevents a ghost from forming. …In a way? Honestly, I don't know much about this stuff."
He remembers that lesson well—Quirks come from ectoplasm. Ectoplasmic radiation, to be specific, that has slowly surrounded the world without their detection for centuries since the first ghost portal was fully opened in America so many years ago. Perhaps…
No, that's a silly thought—but it might make sense. If Quirks come from ectoplasmic radiation, and all ghosts tend to have a core, is it possible that Quirks become their own core? A small one, maybe. Maybe only 1/100th of a core; but a core, nonetheless. And maybe, if a core—maybe that's what the mystery behind Quirk factor is!—if a core is present, maybe that obstructs the formation of a ghost, and people who die violent deaths are unable to form into a ghost, due to the ectoplasmic radiation that they already have in them? But wouldn't it make more sense if—
"Greenie, you're mumbling, and I can't understand a word you're saying."
"Oh. Um. Sorry!" Izuku says. "It's just—you said that Quirks are mutations from ectoplasmic radiation, and maybe that messes with the formation of a ghost? Like, they can't form a ghost if they already have a core? But their core is probably really tiny, maybe not even a core, maybe like, 1/100th of a core—"
"Still losin' me, greenie." Amorpho responds, and then smirks, showing off too many teeth again. "Hey, maybe your name will Mumbler, given how much you do that." The ghost laughs, but their laughter dissolves into a coughing fit.
A coughing fit?
"Amorpho? A-Are you okay?"
"Yeah, 'm fine, greenie." They shift from their human disguise to their normal form with a sigh. "Just… been out of the 'Zone for too long, I think."
Oh. Right.
Izuku feels himself shrink down, a bit. Amorpho isn't going to be able to stay forever, even though Izuku's grown quite fond of the shapeshifting ghost. Sure, the ghost gets their trickery out by trying to throw pieces of trash when Izuku isn't looking (for "training", of course), but Amorpho is one of the rare ghosts who doesn't fight, which leaves them slowly running low on ectoplasm. Being near Izuku is helping them a bit, they've compared Izuku to a renewable energy source multiple times, but this can't last forever.
Just a little longer.
"Anyway. It's your last week of school, eh, greenie? I should probably let you go and get ready for it." Amorpho pushes themselves back up into the air easily. "I'll hang around a graveyard or cemetery for a bit to recharge, don't worry about me."
"I—If you say so, Amorpho." Izuku responds. He stands up too, grabbing his water bottle and shoving it in the small gym bag he's been bringing with him for training and beach-cleaning. The beach has been getting a lot cleaner over the last few weeks, between Izuku's training and just general work. It isn't done yet, but it's getting there. He'll be done by the end of the summer, for sure. "I'll, um. I'll see you later."
"Later, greenie."
Izuku waves goodbye, pulling his hood up to cover his head as he makes his way into the streets of Musutafu.
He makes his way down Jaku Street, pausing for only a moment before continuing on.
It's only about three in the morning, but sunrise would probably be starting within the hour. As long as he got home before then, before his mom would notice him missing, he'd be fine. She's a heavy sleeper, anyway, and why would she have reason to think Izuku wasn't also asleep in his room, too?
The city is quiet.
… almost too quiet.
Izuku keeps his eyes and ears out for any sort of trouble. There's no heroes to patrol usually, and the vigilantes that have done it before—well, they've unfortunately all been caught or stopped within the last few months. He heard Eraserhead was in town, which Izuku is kinda lucky he didn't run into that hero, but also, disappointed at the same time, because it's Eraserhead! Probably the coolest of Underground heroes! What hero nerd wouldn't want to meet the Eraserhead!
But he hasn't been spotted for a while, so this part of Musutafu city runs a little… wild, with crime, sometimes.
He's halfway down the main street he takes to get home when he hears it. A cry.
For help.
Without even thinking, Izuku follows it to a street alley corner, a few buildings down from the largest bar in Musutafu. He slowly creeps to the corner of the building, and turns his head down the alleyway.
He feels everything inside him run ice cold.
There's a woman—late twenties, early thirties, maybe?—in a tie top and a short skirt and heels. She's obviously a little inebriated, but not too drunk to not process the world around her. No sign of a visible Quirk, so it might be something small or passive, like a majority of the population. Her mascara is smudged. She's terrified, and Izuku—he feels the fear from her, even ten feet away.
Standing in front of her, blocking her entrance, is a person Izuku never thought he'd see again.
It felt like months ago, when it had happened.
"Take a swan dive off the roof, and pray you're born with a Quirk in the next life!"
He remembers All Might standing in front of him, with a villain made of sludge securely in an emptied liter bottle of soda.
"I'm afraid it's not realistic, to be a hero without a Quirk."
Izuku remembers the eyes glaring back at him as All Might vaulted into the sky again, grip held tightly on the bottle.
He remembers the feeling of the sludge surrounding him, compressing on his chest, choking him. Killing him, slowly.
"You'll be a perfect new skin suit!"
Izuku doesn't even think—he charges into the alleyway without a second thought, feeling his core hum loudly in his chest. It's nearly deafening, but he doesn't have time to think about it, as he focuses on the task at hand. Save her, save her, save her.
"Hey!" Izuku yells, and he chucks his small gym bag towards the sludge villain. "Leave her alone!"
Something shifts. Izuku doesn't focus on what, though. There's a task at hand. Save her, save her, save her!
(Shinya Hedero, if he remembers correctly, after seeing the arrest record pop up online. Quirk; Sludge Body. A mutant-type Quirk that makes his entire body out of sludge, but if he gets enough of his gunk in somebody, he can control them like a puppet. He doesn't need to kill his host, but Shinya doesn't seem too bothered if it does happen.)
Shinya's eyes turn around to face him, but it's a mistake. Izuku can hear his bag—which only really had his bottle of water in it, a metal water bottle practically indestructible—thunk against one of the eyes, and Shinya growls in pain.
"What the hell—who the hell are you?" Shinya asks, recoiling back.
…He doesn't recognize me? Izuku wonders. He knows he isn't the most memorable, but maybe he got overshadowed by All Might? Izuku doesn't focus on that right now, and instead, brings his fists up in what he'd assume is a defensive position, but he can't exactly say is a good one.
And then he notices something.
His fists—there's a faint glow around them, and his skin is a little paler than before. He feels his core buzz loudly in his chest, and if he focuses, he can still hear the usual ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump of his own heart, but it feels millions of miles way. He's—he's a ghost.
Izuku grins to himself, and then looks back at Shinya. "I'm the one who's going to stop you."
Shinya looks at Izuku and laughs. "Whatever, glow-boy. What are you going to do, blind me to death?"
Not exactly. He remembers how viscous and gross the mutant-type quirk felt when it was on his skin. It was thick and muddy, and he isn't quite sure how All Might caught him, because Izuku was a little knocked out at the time, but not all of the sludge is necessary for Shinya's survival. There's not a lot of options in the alleyway. His bag is behind the poor woman who's gotten wrapped up in this, and he probably won't be able to get it back any time soon with the sludge villain in the way.
Shinya charges at Izuku, and he throws any plan he was trying to concoct in his brain out of the way. Think on the fly. He has a mutant-type quirk, doesn't have a visible brain. Obviously don't wanna kill him, but he probably can't be hurt in the normal ways. What can I do? The intangibility comes instinctually, Izuku feels the buzz roar over his skin, and Shinya passes easily through Izuku, nearly into the road.
"Oh, you've got one of those Quirks, huh?" Shinya growls, collecting himself so that he's taller. "Whatever, I don't need you!" He lunges, trying to go past Izuku towards the woman.
Izuku jumps back towards the woman, and takes the hit directly for her. She screeches as he does, and
"Fine! I'll just take you for myself! A Quirk like yours will make my life a lot easier!"
It's an uncomfortable feeling, being surrounded by the sludge again. Trying to force his way into Izuku, trying to take control, and he feels it in him, and it feels like, well, this is where Izuku fully dies, isn't it?
—Wait a second.
Izuku's a ghost. He can feel his core hum loudly within him. He doesn't… Have lungs. He doesn't need to breathe.
And suddenly, the pressure feels lighter on him. He's struggling against the force of the sludge, and he can look up and see the eyes of Shinya looking down on him with malicious glee, noticing Izuku's laugh of struggle and laughing.
"There, there—you'll be a perfect new skin suit!"
No, thanks! Izuku thinks, and turns his arms intangible to break through the gunk, before grabbing Shinya's eyeballs.
The sludge villain screams. I was right, his weakness! Shinya's body is completely made of sludge, but there's only one solid point in his entire body—his eyeballs, and maybe a few teeth floating here and there, but the eyes must have mutated with his quirk to act as both vision and control of the body, because Izuku definitely can't feel for an actual brain somewhere in the gunk. It would explain their size, too, and Izuku turns intangible to get out of the gunk, keeping ahold of the eyes (which, also turn intangible in his grasp, interesting, can he turn other objects and other people intangible, too?).
"Ma'am, could you get me my bag, please?"
The woman, staring at Izuku with her mouth partially agape, snaps back into reality and nods, turning around and grabbing Izuku's bag. He really liked his water bottle, but he asks the woman to dump it, and he shoves Shinya's eyeballs into it and screws it tightly.
"Hey! C'mon! It's so dark in here!"
His protests go unnoticed.
"Are you alright, ma'am?"
"I'm—I'm fine, but are you okay? You shouldn't be out this late, you know, young man."
Ah. Getting a lecture from the woman she saved. Izuku shrinks under her voice for a second.
"…Well, thank you, anyway. Do you have a name, kid?"
"U-Um, please take care of yourself on your way home, ma'am!" Izuku swings his bag around his shoulder, before speeding off into the night, completely forgetting that he could fly, as a ghost.
✨👻✨
"H-hey, um, sir?"
"What is it, officer?"
"There's a water bottle left here, on the front steps. It's got a sticky note on it."
"What, did someone leave their bottle behind?"
"N-no, sir. Um. It says that Shinya Hedero is inside it?"
"W-What!?"