The rain had been falling since the last school bell rang, a slow, steady curtain of gray that painted everything dull. Izuku Midoriya sat curled near the side of the building, behind the gym where teachers rarely passed by. His school bag lay open on the ground, its contents scattered, soaked. His hero notebook was the worst—pages warped, ink smudged, crushed under a careless foot.
He wasn’t sure who had thrown it this time. Maybe it was still Kacchan. Maybe it was one of the others who’d picked up on how easy it was to make him a target. It didn’t matter. The words were all the same. Worthless. Quirkless. Useless.
“Seriously, just give up already. You’ll never be a hero,” one of the boys sneered, his voice echoing in Izuku’s ears even after the group had walked off laughing.
They always left once the damage was done. No point in sticking around after the show. Izuku didn’t try to follow. He stayed sitting in the mud, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The rain was cold, but it was quieter than the voices in his head, so he let it fall.
He hated crying. It never helped. But sometimes, the tears came anyway, mixing with the rain until he couldn’t tell the difference. His fingers clutched at the frayed edge of a notebook page, the one he’d spent all night filling with analysis of All Might’s movements during a rescue. Now it was just ink stains and pulp.
His heart ached, heavy with everything he wasn’t.
Then—he noticed the rain stopped falling.
Not entirely. Around him, the ground still shimmered, puddles still rippled. But on him—no more drops. No more cold. Just quiet. A shadow stretched over him.
He looked up.
A boy stood there, older maybe by a year, maybe not. Izuku had seen him before in the hallway, but never talked to him. He wasn’t in the same class. Didn’t even know his name. But here he was, holding an umbrella. Standing there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
No words. Just silence. And shelter.
Izuku stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted.