Chapter 1: Just Be Realistic

Izuku's life wasn't a comic book. It wasn't a movie. But it was enough.

He woke up, went to work, and worked from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, coming home to leftover katsudon in the fridge he'd made the night before. He watched some television, and went to sleep contempt to do it all again the next day.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. It was all he needed, really. There was...a little he could ask for, but he made do with what he had. It was fine.

His superiors could be a little mean, but the daily grind simply left them too wrung out to bother with common courtesy and friendliness. It hadn't happened to Izuku yet, but he supposed one day it would, should be rise up the ranks in the company. Even then, there was little to complain about. It was a little cold, but not entirely.

From his desk, Izuku checked his work email and sighed.

He owed an income statement by next monday. Why, he wasn't sure. If the company needed him to summarize financial performance for a certain period it wouldn't be too far off to assume it'd precede changes to his branch, like downsizing.

He just hoped it wouldn't be him. He couldn't think of why that'd be the case but it didn't stop him from worrying. The job search usually bore little fruit for a while and he'd hate to have to move back in with his mother. Plus he'd learned potential employers usually threw his resume in the trash when they saw he was quirkless. (The fact that it was common practice for one to write their quirk under their name on a resume was completely unfair in his opinion.)

It'd only be until he got back on his feet but...he'd hate to just be another burden at twenty-eight. He was almost thirty for God's sake.

Hm.

The realization made him widen his eyes in surprise and take a deep breath. He was...almost thirty.

He watched the cubicle he sat in, along with the dull colors of the office-even his work clothes-feel foreign for a moment. The computer he used day in and day out for over four years became like something he'd never seen before, and the occasional ring of a telephone sounded like sirens blaring in his ear. It all felt wrong.

And as quickly as it came, it was gone. The reality of who he was and what his circumstances were seeped back in.

He was Izuku Midoriya. An accountant at a trading firm. He was damn near thirty years old.

Was this what he expected himself to be doing at his age?

He rolled out of his small office space to look at the drab decor designed solely for peak efficiency and took note of how empty it made him feel. So that was a no.

He used to be deep into heroics. Quirk theory too, probably to make up for not having one looking back. Now that he thought about it, he still remembered the analysis' he'd written "for the future". As though he had one in that field.

It was funny, in a sad way. How he'd deluded himself into believing he had a chance without a quirk to help anyone with. That was a lot of what his life was at that point-hoping to do his best, but without. Maybe he should've listened when everyone told him "no" instead of childishly rebelling in his own way.

He felt a feint pang in his chest and recognized the familiar feeling of his mood lowering.

He probably shouldn't have been thinking on that during work hours, it'd mess with his efficiency-he hadn't even started preparing the documents he was supposed to yet-but he couldn't help it. He never really gave this any thought. He'd just...tried to move forward in life without looking back on his regrets. It made things easier, even if it was only cruising through.

And he'd done that for twenty-eight years straight. Sheesh.

He still took refuge in the little things; interesting podcasts, funny videos, music he liked, visits to his mother's house-it wasn't all bad.

He hadn't had any friends yet, but it hadn't been on his mind for a while. He'd never had any before. Experience told him he was too shy, which was ironically because he didn't have people he could get comfortable with. He was used to everyone either ignoring him or casually disrespecting him. But it was sort of his fault in a way-nothing about him had ever demanded respect.

He'd always been a...a Deku.

He felt himself wince at the old nickname. He was well into adulthood, and no one called him that anymore, thank goodness, but he guessed it always stuck with him in his head. He hadn't seen its originator in person in maybe a decade either. It was one of the few good thing about growing up, even if Izuku regularly saw him the news.

Doing what he himself could never accomplish, he thought with a bitter smile, because despite the sour feeling he was still happy for him.

As far as he knew, Katsuki'd done exactly what he always said he'd do. He was a top ten hero and renowned for the way he utilized his quirk in combat, and roughly everyone in the country knew exactly who he was. If Izuku had to guess, he'd estimate Lemillion and Shouto were his only competition.

Maybe he was still somewhat into heroics.

...

The train ride home was much better than his day at work. Izuku had somehow gotten an empty seat and didn't have to stand that day, that was neat. When he thought on it, he noticed the cart wasn't very full either. He had arm space from where he was sitting, and was even able to set his backpack on the seat next to him!

He reminded himself that it was friday. Everyone else was probably on their way to Kamino Ward or Tokyo to fully enjoy a night on the town with others.

That must've been fun.

There were still some people, though. It was a decent mix that he thought reflected the side of Japan he was used to-salarymen and women in similar attire on their way home from work, students hailing from what he figured were prestigious universities judging by their uniforms, and even some from UA.

In his observation, he caught sight of two people not seated very far from him cuddled up to each other. They looked a little sleepy judging by how they failed to keep their eyes open for more than thirty seconds. It was sweet. They'd probably end up missing their stop, but it was sweet.

So Izuku felt awfully guilty when it brought up a well of negative emotions within. Their presumed happiness brought him sadness. That didn't feel right.

He just couldn't help it.

He assumed it had been a long time since he went on a date. And he was getting older. There was a pressure he put on himself a few years ago to at least be engaged by now. As usual, he just didn't meet the quota.

Izuku sighed, and looked back to his phone to avoid staring.

"-Ground Zero's gonna be there?"

His heart lept to his throat at the mere mention of Katsuki's hero name, and at the same time it came with slight anxiety.

"Yeah. He's actually gonna be speaking to us. I don't get why though. I think the last time he went up to speak at anything was like...five years ago,"

At the Sports Festival, Izuku remembered. He rarely gave as many interviews as did in the early days of his debut. Izuku looked around the train and found the UA students chatting in the seats in front of him, but looked back on his phone to curb potential suspicion.

"So what's it for?"

"Some general equivalency thing,"

"For heroics? I thought that wasn't passed yet,"

Izuku's ears perked up. General equivalency program? For heroics? The thought momentarily brought him confusion. As far as he was aware, the only avenue to licensed heroism was through a heroics-specific school program.

No, he'd remembered. Izuku had read about a woman advocating for such a program in legislation, but that'd been years ago.

Izuku took note that such an option opened the door for potential heroes, and felt just an ounce of hope rise up.

Then he crushed it down to where it belonged. It was childish that after all this time he still jumped at the opportunity in his head. But he...still wanted to be a hero. Part of him did, anyway. He'd let the ambition go already, but he guessed part of him was stubborn.

Izuku sighed. There was no benefit to clinging onto childhood fantasies in his age. Especially not for people like him-people with his condition.

...

It was partly why Izuku's apartment was devoid of any All Might apparel. After a while he got used to it. Whether or not the former symbol of peace was grinning at his return from every angle in his home, it'd always be just as empty as when he left for work.

Izuku walked directly to his kitchen having taken his shoes off. He considered getting a pet once, but didn't think his schedule would allow the time to feed it properly. It was a shame.

As he warmed up the leftover Katsudon in his microwave, he thought to what had happened on the ride home, and decided it alluded to a bigger issue.

He might've been unhappy.

Was it possible? He'd never been one to really live the most lavishly, or regularly have a friendly outing secured, but that didn't make him miserable or anything.

He thought to the positives. He didn't go hungry, he had a decent salary, and the weekend was his to relax. He didn't even have anyone breathing down his neck to remind him he couldn't do anything he wanted. By normal standards, he was doing just fine and it made perfect sense for his disposition to reflect that.

But on days like these it didn't feel like it did. More often than not he felt like he could be doing more. The realization that he was awfully close to thirty only exacerbated this.

As he ate on his couch, dish in hand, he took note of the subtle thought that he was pressed for time he had when he was at the office. The pressure.

The news happened to be on and he knew without a doubt his accomplishments paled in comparison to the clips of demigods presented onscreen-the heroes that saved an elderly man from dying at the unpredictable hands of irresponsible driving, the duo that helped people out of a burning building. It made him look like...nothing. Who had he saved? When had Izuku ever given anyone a reason to call him a hero.

He took one last bite before setting his container on the coffee table. The sour feeling that came with his answer went and stole his appetite.

'It isn't fair,' Izuku thought.

The walls he'd built around his heart to ease the sting of his reality began to crumble, and he felt himself tearing up before he got the chance to hold his head in his hands.

Izuku Midoriya's life wasn't a comic book, and it wasn't a movie. And days like these only made it worse. They made him feel like a delusional deku on some rooftop.

But, that was simply life. It's what was real. And ultimately he'd spent his life being realistic.

He sighed. perhaps it wasn't that he was unhappy, he was just someone who had to let go of everything that made his previous life bearable. He was better for it, even if he didn't feel like it always. It was realistic.

With that Izuku took a deep breath, and felt secure again.

And felt it leave in a vicious swoop when Katsuki's face came on the news.

There was a foreign feeling that overtook him, as though springing into action after reaching peak dormancy. He needed something to break. The remote was still in his hands, and that's how his remote went through his TV and broke a crater in the wall behind it.

Izuku paused, and let his mind blank. The TV had an oddly shaped hole directly in the center it, with what was left of the screen taking on a mixed assortment of blues, greens, and yellows. Then as though it sunk in, he yelped and lept up to his feet.

"Oh my-" The thing was totaled. He was positive the remote was shattered even though he couldn't see the bits over the stand he set the TV on. But that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the impact cavity in the wall that he caused.

"How did I..."

He examined it from afar as though he could've been hallucinating. But in all fairness, he could've been. It was the only thing that made sense.

And then his mind defied logic for a moment, defied what was hopelessly real for a brand new possibility, and Izuku felt a dangerous shot of hope make itself known for the second time that day. His heart found a rising tempo at the anticipation-at the suspense.

He didn't acknowledge it out loud, almost as though it wouldn't come true if he did so, but he didn't fight the smile that crept up his face. Not for a moment.

Then it came crashing down. Why? His mother had gifted him the TV he just destroyed.

Author's Note: I don't usually like fics where Izuku's given a quirk, but I couldn't help myself here. Most fic writers gave him one at a very...convenient time for him (usually right before the UA acceptance test) and I wanted to give him one at a rather inconvenient one. He's not old, but his youth is pretty much behind him. And because of the exact quirk that manifests, it has consequences. Rest assured that even though they're rather negative in their own way, this isn't a story of his descent into villainy (Though someday I'll try my hand at that).

Also, the only reason I didn't write in the remote as flying through the wall was because it didn't have enough weight to do so, and it doesn't seem dense enough. Frankly I'm not too sure a normal TV remote would even be able to go through a TV screen but, hey. I'm no physicist.

Last thing: I looked up accounting terminology for this.

(Props to whoever understands where the chapter title came from!)