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Izuku has been feeling empty ever since he lost One For All.
How could he not? Izuku was quirkless before. Back then, he’d learned to live with it. Izuku made peace with being left behind. So why now, when he has simply returned to that same powerless state, does it hurt this much? Why does it feel like something inside him has been ripped away?
Maybe because One For All gave Izuku something more than power. It gave him a purpose, a place in the world. And now that it’s gone, the silence is deafening.
Izuku endured the rest of his years at UA and finally graduated. He’s thought about becoming a teacher. Maybe pass on his knowledge. Maybe he can feel useful again. But it just doesn’t feel right to him.
Until one rainy evening, when an unexpected email arrives. It’s a job offer from Hawks, the new HPSC president.
It doesn’t say much. Just that he’d like to meet. No job title and no details. Just a request to talk.
Izuku stares at the screen for a long moment. There’s something inside him that feels strange. Still, his fingers move to agree before his brain can stop them.
They meet at the new HPSC building. It’s cleaner, brighter, not as heavy as the old place. Still, Izuku fidgets in the elevator. When the doors open, Hawks is already standing by his office door, looking casual despite the suit.
“You made it,” the man says with a grin.
Izuku nods, taking in the way he moves. Slower than before like he’s cautious of his movements but still very much himself.
“Why me?” Izuku asks when they settle inside. “I don’t even have a quirk anymore.”
Hawks leans back in his chair. “Because you’re still one of the most talented people I know. I didn’t want to lose someone like you.”
Izuku laughs, a little unsure. “Feels weird hearing that.”
“Well,” Hawks shrugs. “You can be anything here. Vice president? My assistant? An analyst? You name it.”
Izuku blinks. “That’s… generous.”
Hawks leans back in his chair, eyes soft but serious. “I’m rebuilding this place from the ground up. It doesn’t have to be cold and stiff like before. I want people around me I can trust.”
He tilts his head, smiling just a little. “And you’re someone I trust, Midoriya.”
The words settle on Izuku like warm sunlight. He doesn’t know what to say at first. It’s been so long since someone said something like that to him while he’s not being a hero.
“You barely know me anymore,” Izuku says quietly.
“Don’t need to,” Hawks replies easily. “You saved this world, and you did it with your heart more than your power. That’s the kind of person I want here.”
Izuku huffs a laugh, awkward. “I’m not that special. I’m just trying to keep going.”
“Exactly,” Keigo says, tapping a finger against his desk. “So, tell me what you want to be. Vice president? My right hand? You wanna work in strategy? Villain rehabilitation? I’ll make it happen.”
“You’re serious?” Izuku asks.
“As serious as I get.”
There’s a pause. Izuku looks down at his hands, then up at Hawks again. “I think… I’d like to start as an analyst. Behind the scenes stuff. It feels right for now.”
Hawks nods like he already knew that answer. “Analyst it is, then.”
He stands, offering his hand across the desk. “Welcome aboard.”
Izuku hesitates, then reaches out and takes it.
“I’m glad to have you here,” the man says, voice gentler now. “Call me Keigo.”
Izuku’s lips twitch into a small, surprised smile. “Okay. Keigo-san.”
For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest loosens just a little. Maybe this is the beginning of something new.
Izuku moves into a small apartment close to the commission. He didn’t expect to like it, but the new HPSC is different from the old days. More focused on support and prevention than image. And Keigo keeps seeking him out. Sometimes just for a chat. Sometimes for lunch. He finds that he doesn’t mind.
His role grows quickly. He helps restructure departments, streamline operations. Eventually, he’s promoted to lead a whole sector. And then, as if it’s only natural, he becomes Keigo’s assistant too, funny, since he’s already helping the man more than half the time.
They work well together. Like two pieces that were always meant to click. And that makes Izuku wonder why they never talked more before this.
One night, Keigo invites him to dinner. Nothing fancy. Just a warm place and a quiet table. They eat in peaceful silence with casual talk there and there.
Afterward, they leave the restaurant and fall into step beside each other. Eventually, their feet lead them to a quiet and mostly empty park.
They sit side by side on the bench, the night air is cool but not cold. Keigo breaks the silence first. His voice is low, like he isn’t sure he should say it out loud.
“Do you ever get used to it?”
Izuku doesn’t ask what it is. He knows.
Being quirkless.
He stares at the ground for a moment, then lets out a breath. “No,” he says. “I thought I would. I thought… since I used to be quirkless before, maybe it wouldn’t hit me as hard. But—”
“But it’s different now,” Keigo finishes.
Izuku nods. “Back then, I didn’t know what I was missing. It was just life. I wanted to be a hero, but I didn’t know what power felt like. What it meant to have it. Now, I wake up some mornings and I still expect to feel it. The weight of it. The pull in my muscles. The way the air used to crackle when I pushed too far.”
Keigo lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. My body still twitches sometimes. Like it remembers what it used to do. Wings that aren’t there trying to stretch. I nearly fell off a damn balcony once.”
Izuku snaps his head to the other man with a gasp. “What?!”
Keigo grins, but it’s tired. “I leaned into the wind and my instincts kicked in. I thought I’d catch it, you know? Glide a little.” He shakes his head. “Forgot I didn’t have my feathers anymore.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Yeah. I miss it,” Izuku admits. “And I hate that I miss it.”
Keigo looks at him. “Why?”
“Because I thought I was more than just One For All. I thought I could live without it and be fine. But sometimes I wonder if that power filled a space I didn’t know I had. And now that it’s gone…”
“It’s empty,” Keigo finishes.
Izuku swallows. “Yeah.”
Keigo leans back against the bench, eyes on the stars. “People still stare. They look at me like I’m broken. Like I should’ve just disappeared when my quirk did. But I’m still here. I still want things. That shouldn’t make me a burden.”
Izuku nods slowly. “It’s like they don’t know where to put us now. Not in the hero world, not with civilians. We’re not one of them anymore.”
“But we’re not each other’s past selves either,” Keigo says. “It’s like we’re stuck in between.”
They sit in that quiet understanding for a while, the kind only shared by people who know exactly how it feels to lose a part of themselves and still try to move forward.
Then Keigo stands.
“Come on,” he says, voice softer now. “Let’s get you back.”
They walk slowly through the quiet streets, side by side. At Izuku’s door, they pause. Neither speaks at first.
Then Keigo pulls him into a hug.
Izuku’s breath hitches, and his arms come up to hold the man back. He can’t stop the tears that streaming down his face.
Keigo doesn’t say anything, and tightens his embrace.
Time passes.
Work becomes a familiar routine. The weight of old expectations fades into something in the past, replaced by paperwork, long hours, and the satisfaction of making things better behind the scenes.
They settle into their new rhythm. Two former heroes. Two men who’ve lost something monumental but finally found something else… a purpose.
One late afternoon, the office is quiet and most people have left. Keigo leans on the edge of Izuku’s desk. He looks tired in the way he always does now.
“Wanna run away for a while?” he asks out of nowhere.
Izuku pauses, blinking up at him. “Huh?”
Keigo exhales through his nose, a soft huff. “I have a house by the sea. It’s Quiet. No visitors. No meetings. Just waves, birds, wind, and way too many books I never read.”
He scratches the back of his head and looks down at Izuku, eyes softer now. “I thought maybe you’d wanna breathe a little. Come rest with me. Just for a bit.”
Izuku stares at him for a moment before giving the man a small smile. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”
Keigo straightens up, his smile matching Izuku’s like they’ve both been waiting for this.
“Cool,” he says. “I’ll pick you up Friday. Don’t pack too much. Just you is enough.”
Izuku laughs quietly. “Okay. Just me, got it.”
The house isn’t big, and it’s far from the busy city. It smells like sea salt. It’s not fancy, just a kitchen, a living room, two small bedrooms, but it’s enough. More than enough.
The ocean is just outside the window, with the sound of waves rising and falling in the background. Izuku finds himself breathing easier without thinking about it.
They cook together, awkwardly at first. Izuku tries to follow the recipes, and Keigo insists on improvising with whatever’s in the fridge. Somehow, it works. Meals taste better when eaten barefoot on the porch, still in pajamas, still laughing about how Keigo nearly set the rice on fire.
They nap when they want to, on the couch, in the hammock, on the rug beneath the open window. Sometimes they wake tangled up in sunlight, arms flung across one another without a second thought.
In the evenings, they walk barefoot in the sand, the cold water licking at their ankles. Izuku finds shells. Keigo skips stones.
And then comes the sunset.
They sit on the porch wrapped in a shared blanket, shoulders brushing. The sky turns soft gold, then bright orange, then pink and violet. They watch quietly as the sun sinks slowly behind the sea.
Izuku leans gently against Keigo’s shoulder, and Keigo wraps his arm around him, resting his cheek against Izuku’s hair.
Two fallen birds, no longer flying but finally home.