The vigilante Fey looked out at the city from his rooftop and grined as two words echoed through his head

'Be realistic' huh? 

Naw. 

If Izuku was ever good at one thing it was playing pretend. 

---

If Izuku was ever good at one thing, it was playing pretend. 

It was a hard-earned and well-honed skill after all. 

          At first, it was just pretending to be a hero like every other kid his age, that was when he learned playing pretend could be joyful. It was fun to imagine what power you might get, how you could blast away every villain with just a flick of your finger, scream so loud it brought your enemies to their knees, or make a criminal's most cherished tool disappear in an instant. It was joyful to imagine a child's limitless potential. and if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was. 

          But then it changed a bit, it was after every 'I'm sorry', every sneered ‘Deku’, and after each of the teachers looked the other direction that Izuku learned playing pretend can be trusting. It was comforting to think that those words would change. It made life tolerable when he pretended that it couldn't last forever, that every ‘sorry’ would change to ‘sorry I didn't believe in you’. To trust that ‘Deku’ was just a joke, that it would go back to ‘Zuku’ soon, that it was on accident when the teachers looked away because they just hadn't seen it last time.  It was trusting to believe it would get better even though he knew it wouldn’t. But if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

          It wasn’t long after that it changed again, When laughs changed from feathers to blades, and faux ignorance became reprimand, when even kind hands became hard fists. When empty desks suddenly grew beautiful flowers that screamed of anything but beauty. It was then that Izuku learned playing pretend can be fearful. It was terrifying to hide his words, his dreams, pretending words and actions werent explosiosive. Hiding his weaknesses, bandaging his own wounds. Ignoring every voice that said he’d be dead soon. It was fearful knowing it would never end. But if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

          One fall afternoon after leaving the principal's office for the millionth time, izuku learned playing pretend could be suprising. It was offputtingly easy. The smiling and nodding, while agreeing to things that weren't true without meaning to. The way he walked with and injury but no limp as he entered his own home, offering kind nothings,  just to get it to stop, an unintentional, instinctive thing. Something to make the words pause. It was surprising how easy it was to lie. But if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

          Over time as the scars grew in number still always aching, as resignation set in and time changed nothing but the weariness of a smile Izuku learned playing pretend could be sorrowful. It was exhausting, still smiling through it all; the constant barrage of pain, the words, the neglect, and the anxiety.  How he could no longer in good faith believe in change, in equality or kindness. The way what was once friendship warped into somthing much more morbid. How red shoes that should feel more comfortable only increased the stares and vile commentary. It was sorrowful how a smile held everything back. But if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

          And one afternoon in a den of tigers Izuku learned playing pretend could be disgusting. It was foul, The way he felt so dirty for acting as if he could have more, for having a dream, when the hundred of scars covering his skin and carved into his own mind proved to him he was useless. The way he insinted he had a chance in a class full of those who had so much more than him. The way he was told to jump. The way he had to bite his tongue to not let things spill from his lips unbidden, to not let them hear how he could murder them in their sleep easily, and more so for knowing how in the first place. The way he still said nothing, pretending to not have anything to say while others said things so vile it stung. To walk home as if nothing happened. 

          Disgisting still to be smothered violated and assaulted by sludge as it entered Izuku’s lungs, but more so that even while he fought to live he wanted to die. That he clung to life when nothing real was left to live for. nausiating that he smiled at the hero who pulled him out of the grime when he felt like he’d break but still didn’t. That he was so desprate for an answer he held on when he already had it. To pretend that the ‘way down’ he couldn’t stop thinning of wasn’t right there off the edge of that roof he was left on. It was disgusting to leave that roof and still smile despite knowing even those who stood for hope crushed it in the end. But if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

          Running towards explosions, and seeing the boy that was once Izuku’s friend in the same situation he was earlier and no one helping, and he moved without thinking to save him. It was after that when Izuku learned playing pretend could be angry. It was infuriating to nod and listen to those who had the power to do so but had been doing nothing, to watch as the man who had hid in the crowd like a coward ran away from the media before his weakness was revealed like Izuku couldn’t spill every secret out of spite. To be yelled at by a person he had just tried to aid while the same who did nothing praised the explosive boy. To be stopped on the way home by the same man who left him on a roof and pretend to be calm and patient while the man told him a real life fairytale when all Izuku wanted to do was scream. It made him angry that a man who stood for hope had the key he needed and yet called his endevors hopeless. And if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

          Or at least it should have been. And maybe in another world it was. But in this one tow words still echoed in his head to fresh to ignore.

          “Be realistic” and after a life time of trampled joy, broken trust, overwhelming fear, wry surprise, everpresent sorrow, self depricating disgust, and oh so fresh anger, he let his mask slip for just a moment as he responded, the tears running down his face not matching his expression that let every emotion he had been holding back seep through just a bit in his response as he echoed the heroes word back to him

          “Be realistic” a wry grin forming on his face at the hero looked slightly distressesd and oh so confused. then all expression dropped from Izukus face before he continued “less than 1 in 20 quirkless individuals can keep a steady job due to the heavy discrimination, most of wich are the older generation who got to where they were before the discrimination got worse, but of those young adults they were less than 5 in every 100 qurkless individuals live to adulthood, lucky them right, after all they werent the 3 in every 100 that died of natural causes, nor the 13 in every hundred that went missing due to the trafficking of the quirkess population, or the 15 out of hundred to die due to murder and hate crimes  nor the 22 out of every hundred that died to poor living conditions or being denyied healthcare, though to be fair those 2 last categories have a tendency to be hard to tell wich is wich, and regardless of that almost all of them regardless of life or death, aproximatly 98 out of every hundred asked have reported open and severe bullying, harassment, abuse, and more in their work place, only around 3 out of those 98 reported anything positive being done about this after it being reported, and out of those 98 asked 94 reported severe and often even daily suicide baiting, wich is most likely the last 42 out of 100 quirkless die of suicide. These are statictis that have been shoved in my face every day since I was 4.”

          Izuku paused still emotionless as he pretended to be fine, a look of horror dawning on the heroes face, but the confusion still there, so izuku finished, “so I must remind you, oh symbol of hope, to be realistic afterall why would I want anything from the man who crushed my dreams after a traumatic experience, and left me on a rooftop. After all even a fairytale ending offered by such a man would be nothing but a nightmare if it mean tying themselves to them. So I really do recommend you take your own advice sir, as for me” Izuku paused before spinning around and walking in the other direction as he said the last words no caring to see the expression on the symbols face “I’ve always been better at playing pretend.” the man didnt stop him as he marched back into the city center letting his mask slip back into the place where it was most comfortable, after all if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.

     —

          A few months later on the same rooftop, his rooftop, Izuku learned playing pretend could be full of such anticipation. It was exciting, the feeling of his heartbeat while he fought like he was invincible, a mask over his face, and a name that wasn’t his own but still was. He was him but so much more. Seeming omnipotence even though it was a small voice in his ear that kept him company even as he pretended to be alone. Skills that seemed invincible right until they failed, and yet he still found a way to survive, and more so to truly live, It was so full of anticipation, every moment of wind in his hair he lived a life that was simultaneously his and yet so different at the same time. But if Izuku was good at one thing, it was playing pretend. And once upon a time that's all it was.