Chapter Text
Lagomorph (lag-o-morph)
A mammal of the order Lagomorpha ; a hare, rabbit, or pika.
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Less than 20% of the global population is considered quirkless. Theoretically, that means 1 in 5 people, or every fifth person passed on the street has no quirk. However, 16% of the global population are elderly, who make up the vast majority of quirkless people. Subtracting that number from the total leaves only 6% of the adult and adolescent population quirkless, the number declining rapidly as time goes on, as does the population’s tolerance of them.
Izuku knows these numbers by heart, though not by choice. Since the day he turned four, every doctor, teacher, and know-it-all at school has drilled it into his head that he is an anomaly. That not all men are equal . That without a quirk, he’s unevolved and therefore not even human. He is one of the few remaining homo sapiens , while everyone else is considered homo vafrum . ‘Quirked man’.
He can only sigh quietly as he looks up at the chalkboard, at the numbers written on the board, hoping his face gives nothing away as his classmates whisper and stare. It’s not as if it’s new news that he’s the only quirkless kid in the class. They’ve known since he arrived at Aldera wearing the incriminating red shoes that only his kind wear. Since his teacher made him stand at the front of class and declared his status for all to hear, then proceeded to shove him into the corner desk and ignore him for the rest of the year.
Quietly, Izuku begins to pack up his things, eyes down on his vandalized desk as the clock ticks forward, inching towards when the dismissal bell will ring. Maybe if he’s quick, he can dodge the feet he can already see sticking out into the spaces between desks.
BRRRRRRINNNG!!
Quick like a bunny, he darts out of his seat and hops over the first foot, trips over the second, and makes a beeline for the door. He can smell burnt caramel, the first sign that all is not right.
A searing hand lands on his shoulder and he hisses in pain, biting back a cry that would draw any more attention. It’s all Izuku can do to bite his lip and stay quiet as he’s dragged back towards the windows and away from the safety that are the crowded hallways, where he can lose his blond tormentor in the crowds.
“What makes you think you can leave so easily, eh Deku?!”
Izuku shakes his head, already stuttering out his usual denials. A crackle of sparks near his face shuts him up, his jaw snapping shut audibly as he stares up at his former friend, awaiting his fate.
“I heard you’re still trying to get into UA…” Bakugou taunts, gripping Izuku’s uniform front in his fist.
UA, his dream school. The #1 hero school in all of Japan, where the greatest hero alive, ALl Might, graduated from. His one and only chance at becoming the hero he’d always wanted to be.
“You think you’re better than me? You? You’re a useless Deku. I’ll rise right to the top, all the way past All Might! You should count yourself lucky for being crushed under my boot!”
Bakugou’s lackeys grin and jeer from behind him like a pack of hyenas stalking a lion’s kill, waiting for the moment the big cat loses interest so they can go in for the leftovers. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and prays that it’ll be over soon. His mom wanted to have a movie night and he’d hate to miss it because he was late coming home.
“You’ll never be anything while you’re quirkless, so just pray you’ll get a quirk in the next life and go take a swan dive off the roof!”
Izuku tumbled to the ground, suddenly let go, his palms just barely hitting the floor in time to stop himself from face planting. He could only stare at the ground as the shoes of his classmates departed, stunned. That was it? No beating, no playing keep-away with his notebooks, just some baiting? He was almost relieved. It came crashing back down a second later when he registered that fact. He was so afraid of Bakugou that being told something so horrible was better than facing him. He really was like a bunny. Quick and fearful.
Slowly he picked himself up and started towards the door again, wiping his face free of any tears that might have accumulated. He caught a few on his sleeve and made a note to wash this jacket again, glad Bakugou hadn’t used his quirk anymore than making his hands hot. He couldn’t afford another jacket this year.
He poked his head out the classroom door and made sure the coast was clear before scuttling into the hallway, quickly making his way outside. He was walking down the street in record time, eager to get home to where he hoped dinner was waiting. If he was lucky, his mother hadn’t been called in for an emergency shift, but Izuku had long since learned never to count on luck. He was born a bad omen after all.
“Mom! I’m home!” he called out, closing the front door behind him and kicking his shoes off. He traded them for his house slippers and ventured further into his apartment, looking around for signs of life. Inko’s keys were on the table and so was her purse, so she was home at least.
“Izuku! You’re just in time.”
Izuku turned to see his mother exit the kitchen, wiping her hands off on a towel as she smiled at the sight of him. They came together in a hug, arms wrapped around each other as they slowly relaxed, the stress of a long day evaporating thanks to the comfort of familiar arms.
“I made katsudon,” his mother said, squeezing him gently. “We still on for movie night?”
“Of course, mom. Let me change and I’ll be right there!” Izuku chirped, his usual cheer returning swiftly.
They broke apart and went their separate ways; Izuku to his room to get dressed, Inko to the kitchen to serve their dinner. When they met up again it was at the sofa, where they both sat down and took their bowls and utensils before scrolling through movie titles for something to watch. Once found, they settled down against the couch, both of them curled up with their legs up and bowls set on their laps. It was almost funny how similar the two were to each other, like a pair of twins. People often joked that the Midoriya’s were actually just clones of each other.
Sitting with his mom beside him, Izuku could almost forget everything troubling him. His nose twitched as he glanced over at her, focusing on her calm face and relaxed posture. Despite what had to be a hard day at work, she always managed to come home with a cheerful attitude and a love for life. He envied her some days, because more often than not he found himself resenting the world. It was a recent development for sure, because he couldn’t remember ever not smiling so much his face hurt. Nowadays he felt like a cloud followed him around, draping his world in gray, raining on his parade. It had been a while since he’d felt truly happy.
Appetite ruined, Izuku set his bowl down on the coffee table and tucked his legs up, watching the TV with his mouth pressed to his knees. His mother couldn’t notice his lack of smile if he hid it entirely, right? But a mother’s intuition was never wrong. Inko noticed, of course, her own soft smile falling slowly as she watched her son withdraw into himself. She thought back to the articles she so often saw online about quirkless statistics.
Most didn’t live past their 14th birthday. Izuku was overdue.