Quirkless

I'm Sorry, But -

Izuku sipped at his beer, his fourth tonight, as Hitoshi scrolled through the selection of movies available on Netflix. The violet haired hero had banned all All-Might and other superhero movies from the list of possible entertainment, which meant Izuku had very little to offer on the suggestion front. They had finally settled on a Studio Ghibli marathon, if only because Hitoshi had threatened to leave if Izuku put on a romantic comedy.

"There we go," Hitoshi said as the opening of Kiko's Delivery Service started to play. He walked over to the arm of the couch, leaning over the edge to hover above Izuku, catching his gaze. "So, you ready to talk yet?"

Izuku rolled his eyes and pointedly turned to face the television, ignoring him. The complicated emotions rolling in his chest were only getting stronger with the alcohol, but he wasn't about to tell Hitoshi that.

His old friend sat on the arm of the couch. He reached down, running his fingers through Izuku's hair, twisting the curls around his fingers gently. Izuku felt his eyes start to close as he melted into the touch. Humming happily, he shifted so that the other man's fingers brushed the sensitive base of his skull.

"Talk to me, Izuku." Hitoshi's fingers didn't stop moving as he spoke. "I know something is bothering you."

"Kacchan thinks I'm weak now," Izuku mumbled, eyes still closed.

Hitoshi's fingers stilled before starting up again. "I doubt that." There was silence for a moment as his hand crept down to Izuku's neck, rubbing the tight muscles there. "Plus, it doesn't matter. Do you think you're weak?"

Izuku shrugged. "I can't fight villains anymore. Not without my quirk."

Hitoshi snorted quietly. "The terrorists from the alley would beg to differ."

Izuku felt the anxiety that had been omnipresent since that first night in the hospital rise into his throat again. "Seriously, Hitoshi, what happens if I don't get my quirk back?" He could hear his own voice, choked and desperate. "I won't be a hero anymore."
Hitoshi's hand froze on his neck. "Is the only thing you can offer your quirk?" His voice was gentle, reassuring. It reminded Izuku of Aizawa's. "I think you're underselling yourself."

"Sure, I can strategize, I can analyze quirks, but that doesn't mean anything without the ability to do something about it. To fight."

The fingers started up again, moving in small circles against the base of his skull. "I think Asuka proves you don't need a quirk to be a formidable opponent."

Jealousy simmered in Izuku's chest as he remembered Kacchan mooning over the green haired woman. He grimaced. "She relies on her support items."
Hitoshi wrapped his fingers around an errant curl and pulled, making Izuku hiss in pain. "And I don't?"

He sat up, pulling away from the violet-haired man's now painful grip. "That's different," he said, rubbing the sore stop on the back of his head.

"How?" Hitoshi slid down from the arm of the couch to sit across from him. His eyes glittered in the flickering light from the television. "What makes a hero a hero, Izuku?"

"Saving people." Izuku answered quickly. It was stupid question - they'd both been there for All Might's lectures.

"You can't save people quirkless?"

He sat in silence, examining the still fading bruises on his knuckles. The logical part of his brain wanted to answer that yes, of course he could, but deeply seated fear choked the words off at their source.

Hitoshi leaned forward, gently lifting his chin so that he met his eyes again. "You realize you are more than your quirk, right?" Amethyst eyes searched his emerald ones. "There is more to Izuku Midoriya than Deku."