Izuku Yagi, as usual, was invisible. As a four-year-old, he didn't understand. He didn't understand why his parents overlooked him. He didn't understand why his sister and old friends hated and tormented him. He didn't understand why he was less than human in the eyes of everyone else. He didn't understand.

Waiting at the quirk doctor's office was a trying experience. Anxious, and excited children; a nervous and worried parent; all common occurrences when families sat in front of their doctor. When children were late in developing their quirks, they were taken to the quirk doctor.

No parent wanted to feel the anxiety of their child being born less fortunate than others, and no parent wanted to feel the anxiety of their child being born with fewer opportunities than others.

As the Quirk Doctor came out and began to speak, Inko felt concerns building inside her mind.

"Would you like the good news, or the bad news first?"

Inko Yagi's nerves were raised even higher after hearing that there might be something wrong with one of her beloved children. Her nerves were eating her alive, so of course, she chose the bad news first.

"There's no easy way to say this, but Izuku won't be developing a quirk. You see, after quirks started appearing, a severe amount of research was done..."

He went on, explaining the studies of quirks, but Izuku wasn't listening. How could he? He was crushed.

"Now, on the other hand, Izumi is a completely different story." The man spoke abruptly, causing Inko to tear her attention from her son's soul-crushing expression and set her sights on Izumi — as a new habit arose.

"She has a power-type quirk. From reading your family's quirk file, I gather you have a telekinesis quirk, and your husband is quirkless?"

Inko nodded, eagerly waiting to find out what her daughter's quirk would be, or whatever information the doctor could spare.

"It seems her quirk — rather than an inherited power — is a mutation. She appears to have a strong telekinesis quirk, and a strength quirk mixed into one. You'll have to watch as her quirk grows and develops to be sure of her true potential and such, but I have a high suspicion that she will grow to be one of the best heroes of our time. She's going places, ma'am."

Inko was excited and happy for her daughter. As she lifted Izumi into the air and praised her, off to the side on a stool sat Izuku. He was in denial. While his sister and mother were happy, Izuku was devastated.

When the three finally returned home, Inko raved about her daughter's quirk to her husband, Toshinori, who was more than thrilled to know the family legacy would carry on through her. In celebration, they watched a movie on the couch as they ate ice cream together. It was almost perfect.

Almost.

Izuku was forgotten. Nobody spared him a second thought. No one remembered him. He didn't understand.

He could still be a hero, right?

Being quirkless didn't change the fact that he had a good, pure heart, right?

He would still help people.

Right?

As he sat in his room alone, listening to the laughter of his family from downstairs, he cried. Silently. He had finally accepted the fact that he was different. He lacked the one thing that he most desired — a quirk — but that didn't change the fact that he would still become the world's greatest hero.

The next day at school, the teacher informed Izuku's classmates that he was quirkless, and she told them to be kind to him because he was still upset.

She knew full well that wasn't a possibility.

When children — when people — see something different, they call it weird. When people see someone different, they ostracize them. Discriminate them until their differences eradicate themselves from view. Though, that never helps.

The quirkless are nothing but eyesores; good-for-nothings that leech off those with worth; a burden to society.

All the children were thinking the same thoughts as they stared and laughed at Izuku's expense. Kids were always the first to ostracize their peers for having different lifestyles, or different appearances than they do — different mindsets than they do. Kids had no filter.

Throughout the years, Izuku learned this the hard way. He adapted a mindset to always accept and protect others. To help others, without even so much as a thank you in return. He adapted the mindset of a true hero. Though, those that wanted to be heroes — and had the means to achieve their dreams — thought the opposite.

It was Ironic.

Those who aspired to be heroes — to protect and serve their world — had hurt and abused Izuku. Solely for being weaker than they were. Solely for having a different mindset than they did.

Who cared if someone was quirkless or not?

Society did.

Izuku didn't understand.

All his friends turned on him. His two best friends, Katsuki Bakugou, and Shoto Todoroki. His sister, Izumi Yagi. Even his own parents — Inko and Toshinori Yagi — paid him no mind. He had been neglected and abused his whole life, though, through all the torment and harassment, his smile still rested unwaveringly. If it were not for his idol, All Might, and his unwavering, fearless smile, he would have given up long ago.

According to All Might himself, anyone could become a hero. That was all Izuku had ever needed. One celebrity's words directed towards billions; although, Izuku knew deep down that All Might hadn't been talking to the twenty percent of people without quirks. The twenty percent of people who were different. The twenty percent of people who were like him.

Though he would always be seen with bruises, burns, frostbite, and gashes, no one would ever ask if he were ok. No one cared to ask if he needed help.

No one cared.

All because he was different.

All because he was quirkless.

Izuku didn't understand.