Chapter Text
Shota Aizawa was no stranger to out-of-control quirks, but normally what he got called for was dangerous quirks, not illusion quirks. Though, walking through the strangely realistic city, he could see why they had called him. No one in the nearby city could tell what was a real person or a fake person, what was a real building or a fake building. Or even whether the heroes they encountered were real. The only indicator is whether they reacted.
Time seemed different here. It moved differently, or… it felt like it did. Shota couldn’t quite tell, and that was a very disturbing feeling. He wanted to find the illusionist quickly and get this over with. It felt sluggish as soon as you entered the illusion city.
Even when things reacted, reacting just meant that the illusionist was within sight but no one could tell who it was. Shota walked through another illusion building, looking at the people wandering around. If he was honest, the illusion world almost seemed idyllic. He wondered what could’ve caused someone with such a powerful illusion quirk to break like this. He was looking through the fake people, searching for one with a quirk factor. Then he saw it.
He had short green hair and appeared to be a middle schooler, though the nearby city had said that the fake city had appeared a while ago. No one had bothered to stop the illusion quirk since it brought tourists who were ecstatic to walk through a completely fake city since such strong illusion quirks were unheard of. Since year one the city had been growing, and now that it was encroaching on the real city they decided something needed to be done about it.
The kid was wearing a black outfit with bright red shoes, seeming immaculate despite the kid having been here for years, operating in illusions rather than in reality. The kid seemed frozen in time, even as everything around him moved.
Shota slowly approached the kid, unsure of whether immediately deactivating his quirk would be smart. He was sat on a bench, staring into nowhere. His eyes were vacant as if he was somewhere else. Shota wondered how the bench was solid if this was all an illusion. Shota reached toward the kid, but the green-haired boy moved, looking at Shota. He smiled excitedly, a bright thing that would outshine the sun if it weren’t for it being eclipsed by the empty look in his eyes.
“Hi! I’m Izuku Midoriya!” He said excitedly, looking at Shota. However, Shota felt almost certain that he wasn’t seeing or hearing him. The kid kept smiling as Shota struggled for a reply, the smile wide. It became creepier the longer the kid held it. Shota felt that the few seconds he struggled stretched into hours.
“Hey, kid. I’m Eraserhead, a hero.” He said, trying to figure out what to do. He felt like reaching towards the kid, but even though they were physically within reach, it felt like the kid was mentally and emotionally completely out of Shota’s reach. He didn’t know what to do and stared helplessly at the kid. He felt himself unconsciously reaching forward slightly as if physically grasping onto the kid would bring him closer.
The kid, Midoriya, nodded. His eyes lost that vacant look, instead taking on a bit of an analytical look as books appeared around the kid, and he grabbed one, flipping through it before it disappeared and was replaced by the next one. There were at least 30 books there, and the one labeled 27 had what the kid was looking for. Shota tried his best to read what was written on each one, and when he finally figured it out he felt a quiet horror fill him. Not only was this kid’s quirk unimaginably powerful, but the kid was into hero analysis.
He hummed “Eraserhead… Underground Hero. Quirk, Erasure. Eraserhead’s quirk allows him to erase the quirk of anyone he is looking at, his eyes take on a red glow and his visor makes it hard for someone to get a read on who he is looking at. Limited time because the hero must blink… Would it work through film if they got a direct tape of his eyes? Unknown, no public research. Is friends with multiple other heroes who have their agencies, works at UA…” The kid seemed to stop at the word UA, trailing off as his eyes faded yet again to the dull look that Shota found he hated.
Shota also couldn’t help but feel like the information the kid had was extremely dangerous, and wonder how the kid got so much information. He wondered what was so bad about UA that the kid seemed to shut down there. He had so many questions and no idea how to ask that of this kid who was so obviously hurting and lost.
Midoriya looked to the side, and after a minute Shota appeared there… Well… It wasn’t him, but an illusion of him. “Heroes… Heroes shouldn’t say what they said, right?” Midoriya asked the illusion. The illusion shook its head, before saying that it had to go. Shota wondered what the kid meant. He wondered why he hadn’t answered, he wondered why he had walked away. In reality, he wouldn’t walk away from a question like that. He wondered so many things, questions that would have to go unanswered until he got the kid out of here and to somewhere safe.
Midoriya frowned, staring after the illusion. He looked back at the notebook, staring at it as he stayed silent. The book was open and he was still standing. Midoriya’s hands dropped slowly, watching the book before him for a while, as the book slowly faded from reality, becoming dust before the dust faded away. Midoriya’s eyes were a dull green, looking like algae on a dead pond. Shota wondered what would put a look like that on a kid so young.
Shota was silent, expecting the kid to speak at some point if only to cut the awkwardness, but the kid was still as a doll. Shota wondered whether he was always like this. After a minute the boy seemed to kick start. He blinked, his eyes still vacant as he looked up. He looked around, not acknowledging Shota other than a small smile. Shota watched as the kid began to walk down the road.
Shota followed the kid in silence, watching the kid interact with the different people as if they were normal. The kid bumped into them as if they were real, but they passed right through Shota. Shota stared at the kid, watching the vacant look sweep over the world, an almost apathetic gaze. The longer he watched the only real person in this world of illusions the more disturbed he felt. It felt like dread clawing up his back and gripping at his heart.
Shota swallowed, moving slightly and debating what to do. After a second he decided to do the only thing he could think of. He moved a safe distance away, and activated his quirk, staring at the only real person in a city of fakes. The city disappeared much the same way the book had, and in seconds the boy seemed to come back to reality.
He quickly looked around, before looking at Shota. His eyes showed fear, pure unadulterated fear, and horror. “No, no, no no no no no no.” the boy began muttering a mile a minute, and Shota found himself feeling bad. He reached toward the problem child, who grabbed his arm and held it tight. The kid’s fingers dug into the skin underneath his clothing as the kid hugged his arm like it was the only lifeline he had.
“No, no, no . Please let me have it back. Everything here is wrong, everyone here is wrong. Please, please, please give it back! I don’t wanna be useless! Give it back, please! Please, please give it back!” The kid pleaded and begged. Shota was used to a lot of reactions to people having their quirks taken away, usually confusion or anger.
But out of everything he expected from this kid, this desperate need for his quirk was something almost unprecedented. The kid pulled on his arm, clawing at his sweater as if he could physically claw the quirk back from Shota. Shota tried to figure out what to do, grabbing one of the kid’s hands. He hadn’t expected the kid to beg him for his quirk back, to beg him not to take it away because he didn’t want to be useless. To call everything around them… Wrong? He had to wonder what this kid’s mind was like to come up with this whole city.
“Woah, kid. It’s okay, everything is okay. It’s just for a little bit.” He said, but this seemed to make it worse.
“ No! Nothing is OKAY everything here is wrong, everyone here is wrong. You’re wrong, All Might’s wrong, Mom is wrong, Kachan is wrong. I can do it, I swear. I’ll do it- Please. Please- Please let me try. Please I don’t wanna be useless anymore.” The kid’s voice seemed to go from intimidating and endlessly sad to small, but just as sad. The kid started crying, eyes that had been glassy and emotionless before suddenly filled with endless emotions welling up with unending tears as he stopped clawing at Shota’s sweater. The kid’s eyes had suddenly come to life, going from looking like algae on a dead pond to emeralds. It was a jarring change. The kid was sinking to his knees in front of Shota, physically slumping against him, gripping his shirt in his attempts to get Shota to give back his quirk. A quirk, which Shota had already given back.
Shota crouched down, finding anything else too awkward as he gently gathered the boy in his arms. “It’ll be okay, kid. You aren’t useless.” He said quietly. He wondered what type of past the kid must have to act like this when he lost his quirk. He wondered what people used to tell him to have him beg Shota to give him back his quirk if only so he wasn’t useless.
Shota found himself watching as their surroundings morphed, and he heard noises from around them. Shadows stretching and surrounding them, calling someone useless, mocking them, jeering at them, threatening them, someone telling them to jump off a roof. Darkness pressed in on Shota and he couldn’t help but wonder whether this was the kid’s mind right now. He wondered whether this was the kid’s mind all the time. He knew it was an illusion quirk, but what didn’t mean that he could just drop the kid and walk out of the illusion, even if technically he could.
Shota wasn’t gonna do that, the kid needed him here and he would act as a small anchor to reality for the kid. Even if the kid only needed him to make sure he didn’t reconstruct the city in his mind to try and hide himself from all the bad thoughts. And they were honestly quite bad thoughts. Shota was rather certain that these were memories, not thoughts. That scared him, to think kids would be so cruel to each other.
People were calling him quirkless, Shota heard the noise of the kid getting beat up, desperately pleading with people that just because he was quirkless didn’t mean he couldn’t be a hero, while the background echoed one question. ‘Can a quirkless person be a hero?’ There were other questions, of course. Questioning why he deserved this. Whether these were future heroes. Why would someone tell him this? Whether it was worth it to keep going. These questions often had an answer, but the one that never had an answer was ‘Can a quirkless person be a hero?’
And then, they were on a roof, and the sun was setting and it was beautiful, All Might silhouetted in front of them, standing proud, smiling wide with a thumbs up, looking exactly like all his promotional material. The world was beautiful and colorful, but Shota didn’t have time to admire it. The scene glitched, and the unanswered question echoed in a scream out from the void, asking if someone quirkless could be a hero. A boy’s voice, the voice of Midoriya Izuku, spoke, the sound coming out glitched and echoey, similar to how the question was always repeated. A man stood there, skeletal and sickly. Yellow hair dropping into his face corners sharp enough to cut someone, but announced in All Might’s voice. “You won’t be a hero.”
Then the darkness came back, surrounding them even as Shota help the kid. The darkness pressed in
The voices screamed around them, and Shota held the kid tightly even as shadowy figures leered at them. Shadows reached towards the kid, hands grabbing onto the kid even as Shota did his best to ward them off. The hands clawing at the kid, digging into his skin as if trying to physically get underneath his skin. Voices screaming that everyone was wrong , that this wasn’t All Might, that Kachan was wrong, his mom was wrong . No one seemed to get it right, screaming and questioning whether they were heroes. Questioning what a hero even was. Clashing voices whispered, echoing and low, breaking through the crashing screams.
The shadows closed in, surrounding Shota and the boy in black even as Shota held the boy close, pressing his face against his shoulder as he whispered what the kid probably thought were empty promises. He wanted to get the kid out of here. Wanted this kid to be better, and if the kid wanted to be a hero, then Shota would help him there, too. Shota saw them trying to grab him, too, but their hands slipped through, they were only illusions after all. Shota felt so sad for the kid, wanting the kid to find somewhere he could feel safe because all this screamed was scared, sad, angry… Lost…
Shota wondered how someone could feel so lost. Was hero work the kid’s only dream? Did no one think about that before crushing the kid so mercilessly under their heel? Was he too late to save the kid? What would happen to the kid if he was too late? The Hero Commission would want him, now that they know he exists. He would never listen to the Hero Commission… Then what would they do? He focused once again on what was happening outside of himself.
The voices tempting him closer to a ledge. Voices encouraging him that it would be all right. Voices telling him that everyone was right and that was okay because Kachan gave excellent advice. Kachan always gave the best advice. Kachan was such a good friend. Then the voices seemed to switch, one whispering for freedom from the wrong world. Whispering about how everything was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
The other voice screamed about how he would be better off at the bottom of that building, better off dead than quirkless. Better off gone than desperately trying to correct society. Voices calling him delusional, apologies echoing all around. Empty promises of becoming heroes together overlaid with a similar voice giving the boy the nickname useless. Insulting him, with All Might’s voice echoing. Voices saying they’ll be heroes together, voices insulting him. Calling quirkless and useless. The voices asking why he had been saved.
The voices called him useless, a blight upon the world, a burden. Called him nothing but a bug beneath their shoe, a disgusting thing no one wanted, but someone might keep as a pet if they were feeling pitiful enough. The shadows wrapped their hands around the kid's neck, sinking into it. Voices laughed, faces swam through the shadows, just far enough not to be identified. A woman apologizing, while a voice screamed that he was alone. While a voice said that no one believed in him, or ever would. While shadowy hands grabbed and sunk into the kid, cruel laughter, the sounds of explosions. The sound of a kid crying.
A noise rose above it all, a rushing noise, like standing next to a waterfall. It was loud, and not soothing at all. So maybe it was more like standing next to a jet plane engine? It was painful, piercing through all of Shota’s thoughts until he almost couldn’t think straight. Voices echoing, calling him useless even as Shota worked to recover. He could understand how the kid went insane if this was what his mind was always like.
Shadows surrounding them, pressing, reaching, gripping, and pulling. All of it. The reassurances that it would be okay, the talk about everything being wrong, the screaming, the whispering. It made Shota feel sick, the smell of acrid smoke and the sounds of explosions. The smell of burnt fabric and flesh. The shadows sinking clawed hands into the kid’s skull, as if needing to represent each of these thoughts sinking into the kid’s brain, finding a home where they had no place even being in the first place.
The kid cried, not looking up even as his quirk worked to project everything he saw in his mind. Shota gently rubbed his back, unable to figure out what else to do. He watched the kid have his breakdown, unable to meet the kid’s eyes as he listened to everything he had gone through. He just hoped by the end of this the kid would be well enough that he could at least bring the kid back to society… If not… He’d find a way.
The shadows came closer, seeming to engulf the kid as the kid was oblivious to it all. The kid was so small, Shota realized as he saw the kid disappear beneath the shadows. He felt the shadows pressing in on all sides, desperately just trying to keep a hold of the kid, not wanting to let him go. He saw them reach and grab at the kid, digging and sinking into his skin, shadows disappearing into pale skin as if they had sunk into mud. Shota didn’t want to cancel his quirk, since this could be an important part of his recovery, and he wasn’t hurting anyone… Just scaring Shota. Shota wondered what some of these names meant.
Who was this Kachan? Why did that voice sound so familiar? Why would All Might of all people say that to this kid? Why was everyone referring to him as quirkless? What did it mean? Did it mean he viewed himself as quirkless? Did it mean he was a late bloomer? Why were the voices only actually active after he talked to All Might? What circumstances had surrounded this kid’s quirk manifestation?
And then they were falling, a building high above them even as Shota held onto the kid. He was staring at the sky, wondering whether it had been this beautiful when this kid tried to do this. He wondered whether this was what the kid felt when it had happened. He wondered whether this was how the kid saw the world, as he looked around. They seemed to be falling in slow motion, and the world around them was beautiful. It was colorful and vibrant and stunning. The people were even more stunning, colorful in a way that was ethereal and almost like something out of a painting. It wasn’t viewed in the way a kid might see it, but it was still beautiful in a way that usually only a kid could capture with their childish wonder. He wondered whether this was how the kid saw it every day. He wondered how the kid could live such a horrid life but see the world so beautifully.
Then everything cut out seconds before they hit the ground. Shota just hugged the kid. He remembered the beautiful world he had seen and tried to remember how the illusion world had looked. He slowly realized that the illusion world almost seemed like a very poor version of the world Izuku saw. Shota looked at their desolate surroundings, a plain area that the kid had used for a few years now. He looked at the kid before him, and instead of seeing a kid he saw a monster and wondered whether this was how the kid saw himself. The kid didn’t resemble a human, the colors on him were muddy and one might consider them revolting. It was a jarring counter to how he saw the world. He gently held the kid, rubbing his back.
He tried to imagine how the kid saw the area around them, not as a dreary plain, but somewhere just as colorful and beautiful as that small glimpse into the kid’s mind that Shota had. Izuku’s world was beautiful, even if it seemed terrifying in most cases. Shota found himself wanting to see what Midoriya would do in the future, with such a beautiful view of the world. Aizawa mentally filed away all of this to try and figure out who all these people were.
They needed a really serious investigation into his mother, and Aizawa almost dreaded what he might find in that investigation. He hoped it wouldn’t be anything too bad, but if this kid was labeled quirkless before this… Who knows? Aizawa cradled the kid that looked like a monster.
He let the kid cry himself to sleep, wondering whether the kid had been that tired, or was crying that long. He looked around, feeling like time returned now that the boy had fallen asleep. He wondered whether the kid could influence the sense of time.
He looked down at the boy, patting his head gently. His hair was fluffy and soft. He chuckled softly at that thought, before shifting the kid so he could carry him safely. He’d probably have to do a lot of arguing with the Hero Commission to make sure this kid was safe, but he found he didn’t mind it too much.