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The doctor tells Mirabel Izuku she is quirkless.
It isn’t that unexpected, in all honesty. She’s well past the age people in this world should receive their quirks. A part of her has always wondered if she brought over more than her memories and curly hair from her past life.
(It doesn’t hurt any less, learning she is once again powerless.)
(Part of Mirabel will always wonder what it feels like to have an ability to call her own, even after Tio Bruno returned and Abuela changed her attitude.)
Mami Kaasan cries that night, and tells Izuku, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
(She doesn’t want an apology.)
Mirabel is painfully reminded of Abuela’s pinched expression the day her gift ceremony failed.
(What is the difference between scorn and pity?)
(What she wanted—what she wants is acceptance, a promise that no matter what happens, she is loved, forever and ever.)
(Is this her destiny? Is she always meant to struggle against people’s prejudices, to prove she has a worth beyond her powers?)
(Won’t it be nice if she can be like everyone else for once? If she doesn’t have to fight tooth and nail for the approval everyone else is effortlessly granted?)
Mirabel Izuku doesn’t have a gift quirk.
But that’s okay. She’s already had some practice being the only person without any powers.
(She isn’t okay.)
Before she is Midoriya Izuku, she was Mirabel Madrigal.
She used to live in a small town, hidden from the outside world. She had a large family and a wonderful, sentient house. She was the town’s children’s favourite, even though her family had amazing gifts that they used to help the town thrive. There used to be a rift in the family, one that she fixed, and her family became closer than ever. She—
One day, she woke up in a body not quite her own.
It’s such a small body, with green hair and green eyes, and skin as pale as Tia Pepa’s. She still has her curly hair, she doesn’t need glasses to see anymore, and there’s a beautiful constellation of freckles across her cheeks, but that’s it.
This body is wrong.
It’s a little boy’s body.
She wants to tear at this body, claw this wrong skinsuit off, revealing her original body beneath this skin, but—
Logically, she knows it won’t do a thing.
(Did Camilo ever feel like this when he lost his gift?)
She sets to work making this body hers.
She can’t make this body older and bigger, but she can grow out her hair into her original hairstyle. She asks her mother if she can get clothes that suit her better, and ends up with a closet of dresses. There a so many different styles of clothes in this different, strange world.
She makes her body a girl’s.
She keeps her birth name, because it’s a beautiful name—Izuku, a child ‘long awaited’—but also because her mother—not Mami—seemed upset enough that she’s making so many changes so young.
So, she was Mirabel Madrigal, a girl who lived in a small town hidden from the outside world.
But now, she is Midoriya Izuku, a girl who lives in a wide, wide world, with countries connected by an intricate network of planes and ships, three hundred years into the future. 80% of the population have gifts—though they call them quirks—but Izuku still doesn’t have one.
(Are her family’s descendants still living happily in that valley, hidden securely by impenetrable mountains?)
(Have people found the Encanto? But her searches on the internet—such a wonderful invention—have turned up nothing. No secret community hidden in the mountains, no town named Encanto, nothing. It’s hard to believe anything can be hidden for long in this strange new age, but her family’s descendants must still be well-hidden. That, or…)
(Or, this is a different world, and her family has never existed in this world at all.)
(She tries not to think of the third—the worst—option. A lot of things can die in three hundred years.)
She has no idea why she’s here, and the memories of her last few days in her previous life are blurry at best, but Izuku is determined to make the best of this new life, as always.
It’s a familiar song and dance, having people discover that she is powerless.
They never seem to take it well.
Kacchan—her first and best friend in this world—doesn’t either.
He laughs and scoffs and screams at her, as if this is a joke, some simple choice that Izuku can just change.
“You’re supposed to get a powerful quirk that isn’t as powerful as mine, and you’re supposed to be my sidekick while I become the world’s greatest hero, one that will surpass All Might!”
“Kacchan—”
“You can’t be a hero without a quirk, Deku!” Deku, not Izuku. Kacchan only used to call her that as a joke. “Quirkless people are weak! All they’re good for is being saved. People like that can’t be heroes! You’re supposed to be strong, not weak!”
Izuku doesn’t even want to be a hero. She just saw no harm in indulging Kacchan’s fantasy—children like it when she treats their dreams and beliefs seriously.
It doesn’t make Kacchan’s words sting any less.
“I can’t be friends with someone like you! You’ll only drag me down—how can I be the world’s greatest hero if you impede me like that!?”
—and Izuku knows he is just a little boy, a child who is shocked and hurt and lashing out in his fear. It still hurts.
(She thought she was over this.)
(What if she is a child, a little boy who is hearing these words for the first time? How will it break her, listening to these words coming out of her best friend’s mouth?)
“Mirabel, stop messing things up for your family—”
“—sometimes, the best thing we can do is to step aside and let more capable people do their jobs—”
“—whatever you’re doing, stop doing it!”
(Different worlds, different lives, different languages, but still—the same sentiment.)
She should help Kacchan overcome his prejudices, stubbornly stick by his side even when it’s clear she isn’t wanted. Maybe she would’ve, if she didn’t have all those memories of being Mirabel.
But Izuku has learnt better. She will not break herself for someone who will never accept her as she is.
“No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be good enough for you—!”
“Okay then, Bakugo.” She swallows, looking down. Ka—Bakugo’s eyes widen in shock.
“You—”
Izuku looks up again, and her determined eyes find Ka—Bakugo’s shocked ones. “We’re done.”
Izuku turns around and leaves.
She still loves K—Bakugo, she does. He is her first friend in this world, and she has always gotten along better with children than people her own age.
Except…Bakugo is her own age, right now. He is angry, and shocked, and painfully blinded by his own prejudices. Izuku can’t help him, not right now, not like this.
Maybe someday, Bakugo will change. Maybe someday, they can reforge their broken friendship. Maybe someday…but…but…not now.
Sometimes, love isn’t enough.
After that day, Bakugo only calls her Deku. Never Izuku.
He ignores her more often than not. Their classmates follow his lead.
Izuku grows up alone.
This second life feels like lost progress.
Before, Mirabel fought so hard to be appreciated, and it ended up taking Casita falling apart for the cracks in their family to be patched. And she was happy—happier than she had been in a long time.
But now…
Izuku has to start over.
(Aren’t second lives supposed to feel like second chances?)
Izuku didn’t even want to be a hero.
She doesn’t quite get the obsession this world has with heroes. There’s such a wide variety of quirks, and everyone can use theirs to help society in different ways if they choose to. But the only career people can use their quirks in—the single career every child is obsessed over—is heroics. The profession that involves beating people up with their quirks.
People are especially obsessed with this hero called All Might. Sure, he reduced crime by a lot, but…so what? People in the Encanto never stole from each other, and any disputes were always settled with Abuela as the mediator. They didn’t even need to use money—before waking up in this world, she only knew the concept from stories the older generation told! Everyone did their part to help the town, not just the Madrigals. And the system worked, didn’t it?
This world is so much bigger, but also so much crueller. People only seem to care for their own self-interests, lying and cheating and beating others down, just to claw their way to the top of society. There shouldn’t even be a need for pro heroes, who make a living keeping others in line.
And—people in this world seem to believe might means right. They only ever use their quirks for their own gain, to harm but never to build. Even heroes use their quirks to beat villains down.
In this social hierarchy, quirkless people—people like Izuku—end up at the bottom. Their abilities are overlooked, all for the lack of a quirk that most of the population legally aren’t allowed to use.
Maybe…maybe that’s why she was given this second life. Her destiny was to fix her family…but now…maybe her destiny is to fix the world.
This world needs to change.
Izuku decides to be a hero.
Izuku trains.
She was never quite into physical activity. Mirabel was one of the Encanto’s seamstresses, and Izuku expected to become one of the few artisan seamstresses left in the world, handmaking clothes for the sake of art more than for the sake of necessity.
(The factories in this world are quite a sight to behold.)
She can still do that, but not as a fulltime job anymore. Now, she needs to become a hero, and that means training even though the physical activity isn’t that enjoyable.
(All the running and lifting weights makes her think of Luisa, though. That thought kindles a warmth in her chest and sends strength surging into her exhausted limbs.)
Kaasan supports Izuku’s goal grudgingly, but makes her promise to apply to UA’s general studies course as well as the heroics course. Bakugo sneers, when the teacher announces Izuku is applying to UA, but otherwise ignores her.
Still, Izuku gets into UA’s heroics course. And when Bakugo’s eyes widen as he sees Izuku in the doorway of the classroom, she allows herself to feel vindicated, just this once.
Studying to get into one of the most prestigious academies in the world doesn’t leave much time for hobbies.
It’s only when Izuku passes UA’s entrance exam that she gets the chance to pick up her sketchbook again.
So, looking at the entry forms piled on her desk, Izuku…draws.
She ends up with a blue and green suit, accented with white. Butterflies are embroidered across the suit, representing rebirth and change.
Butterflies have always been the Madrigal’s family symbol.
Izuku smiles. This makes for a good hero costume.
Izuku’s troubles don’t end at getting into UA.
Her classmates don’t quite trust her, after she loudly tells them she is quirkless.
(Bakugo scoffs when she says that. She hoped growing up would soften his attitude some, but apparently not.)
(Maybe their teacher will succeed where Izuku failed. Aizawa-sensei doesn’t seem like one to tolerate prejudice.)
Aizawa-sensei looks at her in surprise when she does that. Did he expect she would keep her quirkless status a secret, for as long as possible?
No. Even if that would make her life easier, pretending to have a quirk isn’t compatible with Izuku’s goal.
When Izuku’s class is attacked at the USJ, mere days after the start of school, it ends up being a blessing in disguise.
Turns out saving her classmates’ lives is a great way to gain their trust.
(Even Bakugo seems less cold to her after that encounter.)
School is suspended for a few days while the teachers patch the holes in UA’s defences. When school resumes, All Might pulls Izuku aside, and—
He offers Izuku a quirk.
A story spills out of All Might’s mouth, then, about two brothers, a legacy passed down through eight heroes—in spirit if not in name.
The Symbol of Peace asks Izuku to be his successor, the next Symbol of society, the ninth holder of One For All.
It’s…tempting.
A little too tempting, in all honesty.
Part of her will always wonder what it feels like to have an ability to call her own, no matter a gift or a quirk. She will always wonder how it feels to not have to struggle against the flow, to be effortlessly granted the respect and acceptance she must fight for in both her lifetimes.
And now…this is her chance. All Might is impressed by her, he confesses. He was once quirkless, and knows what it feels like to fight for a chance that is barely out of reach. If Izuku were to reach out a hand, and grab the star in front of her…all she ever wanted would be in her hands.
But…
This isn’t what she wants, not really.
Even if Izuku gains this miraculous quirk now, all the acceptance she receives will be because of her quirk, not because of her, as a person.
(She wants to be seen as she is, and be loved for it.)
Besides, what about the other quirkless people in this world? None of them will be gifted a quirk like Izuku; they will spend their entire lives quirkless, and be scorned for it.
She can make society kinder as a Symbol like All Might—it might even be easier—but what about the second part of her goal?
Izuku…Izuku doesn’t want to be a Symbol.
She wants to be a Symbol for the powerless.
Izuku refuses.
The sports festival approaches.
A few days before one of the most anticipated events in the country, Todoroki Shoto approaches her.
And the things he tells her…
There are many families more dysfunctional than the Madrigals, Izuku knows that. The tale Todoroki spins…of a father desperate for glory, a scared and broken mother, and siblings drifting apart…Izuku has never been more aware of that fact.
“Why are you telling me this?” Izuku asks. Or more accurately, why is he talking to her at all? Izuku has never heard Todoroki talk at all, not even when the teachers call on him in class. He just hand-signs like Koda. Izuku honestly thought he is mute, not that it’s any of her business.
Todoroki shrugs. “It just felt like you’d understand.”
Izuku does. Not quite in the way Todoroki wants, but she understands something, from Todoroki’s speech.
There are many things she needs to fix in this world.
Shinsou Hitoshi is a sad, bitter boy.
That much is obvious to anyone who cares to look. When Izuku hears the barbed words Shinsou spits out during their fight, though, she understands why he is so bitter.
After the sports festival ends, with Izuku losing to Shinsou and Shinsou losing to Todoroki, Izuku approaches the purple-haired boy.
“What do you want?” The boy scoffs.
“I liked your fight with Bakugo.” Izuku offers. “I’ve never seen anyone beat him so quickly.”
“Kissing up to me won’t spare you from my quirk, when I get into the heroics course.” Shinsou snaps, the words not betraying the uncertainty in his eyes. He isn’t sure if he’ll get into the heroics course, even after his spectacular performance today.
“I don’t expect that.”
“Then you expect you’ll beat me with whatever amazing quirk you have, don’t you? So that I’ll be too scared to use my quirk on you.” Shinsou hisses. That’s a bad habit he has, Izuku thinks. He’s always too quick to jump to the worst conclusions.
“I’m quirkless, Shinsou-kun.” It’s bad to make fun of others, but the slow widening of Shinsou’s eyes is hilarious. Izuku tries very hard not to laugh.
“…oh.”
Izuku grins. “Anyway, I just came here to say your performance was amazing! You can’t help that Todoroki is selectively mute, and second place is nothing to laugh at! I look forward to seeing you in the heroics course soon, Shinsou-kun.”
“I don’t get you, Izuku.” Bakugo approaches her one day.
Izuku blinks. He called her Izuku.
“How are you so fucking happy?” The boy gripes. “I…I called you all those things, back then. I called you worthless and useless, and I know I wasn’t the only one in middle school to call you that. But you—you still smiled like nothing is wrong! I—we—we ignored you, and tried to make your life miserable, but you’re still…so sickeningly happy! How can you do that?”
Izuku blinks. But…
“I’m not happy.” She says. Isn’t that obvious?
Bakugo frowns.
“I’m sad and frustrated that everyone seems to think my lack of a quirk determines my worth, but being depressed won’t change anything. I want—I want to change this world so people are more accepting of the quirkless, but people won’t listen to a depressed girl!” She grins. “It’s called method acting; if I keep smiling like I’m happy, I’ll feel much better and more determined about succeeding!”
“Oh.” Bakugo’s brows furrow, and the boy becomes uncharacteristically quiet. He hesitates, and then walks away without another word.
Izuku looks at the retreating boy, feeling strangely melancholic.
…soon. Bakugo is changing now. If she begins inching her way back into the boy’s life, one day, soon, they’ll become friends like they used to be.
(Despite everything, she still loves the boy she hasn’t been friends with in nearly a decade.)
(Love is funny like that.)
“So?” Midnight asks. “What will your hero name be, Midoriya?”
Izuku smiles. She flips over her sign, and announces, proudly, “I am the quirkless hero: Mirabel.”