W͜͡h͜͡e͜͡n͜͡ D͜͡e͜͡k͜͡u͜͡ S͜͡m͜͡i͜͡l͜͡e͜͡s͜͡

Izuku Midoriya

"I dreamt of the past again, Sensei."

Izuku got up to start preparing breakfast. He padded his way to the kitchen, taking out ingredients from the fridge and setting a pan on the stovetop.

"I see . . . Was it a bad dream?"

"I don't know..." He heated up the stove and poured oil into it. As he cracked an egg over it, he asked, "What do you think, Sensei?"

"Hell if I know," muttered his teacher as he worked on his tie. "Aren't those your emotions?"

His eggs and toast ready to be served, Deku carried the plates to the table. A tiny sprite hovered near his face and tugged on his cheek impatiently. Another yanked on his green hair. They were hungry.

"If I had that sort of stuff," Izuku mumbled, "I whouldn't haff become a magician's pufil."

He set the food down, took a seat and began to eat, accompanied by his teacher's familiars who eagerly dove onto the meal.

My name is Izuku Midoriya. The man before me is Toshinori Yagi. He's a great magician and my master. When I say magician, I mean a powerful person . . . who is able to command demons. I will be sure to explain this all in detail later.

It may seem obvious, but the existence of magicians in modern society is a secret.

"Hurry up, Nighteye, or I'll leave you behind."

His familiar, Sir Nighteye, lets out a screech before scarfing down the rest of his food. The tiny bird looks ridiculous with his cheeks stuffed, but he manages to keep it all in. Then he hurriedly fluttered over to the blond's shoulder, hovering as he waited for his master to shrug on his jacket.

"Oi, Deku." He turned to the greenette before heading out the door. "Don't forget our usual code."

Izuku watched his master out, responding automatically, "...Take care at work."

As soon as the blond is out of sight, Deku is alone again. He waits for everyone to finish eating, then he does the dishes. After cleaning up, he heads to the closet, slides it open and reaches for a box with his name written on top of the lid. He opened it and lifted out a tattered, rusty red-stained notebook. The front read: No.13 For the Future.

He flipped it open and began to read out-loud, "To Izuku Midoriya..."

Someone made a record of what I need to do.

"Find someone precious to you . . . and obtain emotions."

But what are 'emotions'?

Ever since I became aware of things, I never understood what 'emotions' like 'happiness' or 'sadness' were like. What is it like to be 'happy'? Or to be 'sad'? 'Angry'? They're all incomprehensibly nonexistent to me.

I've read the books and seen the films, where people are applauded and held in high esteem for their 'stunning display and range of emotions'. I don't quite understand though.

Is it really that amazing to be able to laugh and cry on cue?

To fall and get back up again, determined to try to put more effort into a goal?

To know what to say, what not to say?

I wouldn't know. I rarely talk to anyone. Master Toshinori says that I wouldn't stand a chance in the real world, but I can't tell if he means it.

He's probably using what they call 'sarcasm'. An emotion, yet not an emotion. Then again, he does not express much emotion to me at all, so I have nothing but my books and personal experience to conclude this.

Emotions... what are emotions?

What they called 'Anger'...

I remember Anger. Not being, but having it directed at me.

"Dear, stop that!"

Two figures push and pull at each other. From my spot on the floor, I watched them.

"I can't deal with it anymore!" One makes a strange sound, attempting to reach out towards me.

"If I don't say anything, all he does is sit there!"

The other holds her back, "Calm down..."

I had no goals.

"He doesn't laugh or cry . . . isn't that creepy?"

I had no meaning.

"There aren't any emotions in that...that thing!"

Just letting the days pass by.

"I just can't..." She screeches, brandishing her knife,

"I . . . didn't plan on giving birth to a doll like this!"

Aren't I dead?

I am looking at my mother

She does not look happy.

I am looking at my father.

He does not look happy.

Neither of them are smiling, so they cannot be happy.

But someone wrote out the method on how to obtain emotions for someone like me, who doesn't have what they call a meaning of life.

That method was to become a magician, and to find someone important to me.

I remember—

A boy plagued by his inner demons,

A girl who shared her useless hobby with me,

A boy self-conscious of his own appearance,

A girl who thought she was nobody,

A boy disgusted with society,

A girl who was afraid of failure,

And countless others.

There's still one memory that occasionally flickers in my mind. A candle burning low, just waiting to be snuffed out. It's of a boy with mismatched eyes, hair evenly split down the center between red and white, and a patch of an aged scar over his left eye. His name was...

I wonder why I can't remember.

That was probably the closest I've ever gotten to another human being.

Ah. I think I want . . . I want a friend again.

Tomorrow is yet another day. Perhaps I'll have better luck then...

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This is the story of Izuku Midoriya, and how he met three very different people to call his 'friends'.
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