what if deku was Yusuke urameshi
The sky over Musutafu was a mocking, pristine shade of blue. It was the kind of day the news anchors chirped about, the kind of day heroes loved because their capes looked majestic flapping in the gentle breeze, and the kind of day Izuku Midoriya absolutely hated. He was currently lying on his back on the concrete roof of Aldera Junior High, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out that irritatingly cheerful sun. The concrete was warm, baking through the fabric of his black school uniform—the jacket of which he wore unbuttoned over a white t-shirt, completely against regulations. Down below, three floors of education were happening. Students were scribbling notes about history, mathematics, and Hero Law. They were discussing their Quirks, comparing mutations, and dreaming about the UA entrance exams. Izuku didn't care. He popped his knuckles, the sound cracking like a pistol shot in the quiet air. "Midoriya!" The screech of the rusty roof access door being shoved open ...