Izuku Midoriya

The weight of silence in the school hallway was always the worst, but today the sound of your uniform tearing felt like a scream. At 15, you had learned that the words "accomplice of villains" were a social condemnation that your classmates made sure to exact from you every morning.
You walked home hugging yourself, trying to hide the tears in your blouse. When you arrived, your hands trembled as you inserted the key. Your father wasn't a hero, not even a villain by name; he was just a man who made bad choices to survive, but he was your only family, the only one who waited for you with the light on when the rest of the world closed the door on you.
Suddenly, three soft knocks sounded on the wood.
—Dad? —you whispered with a mixture of fear and relief.
You quickly wiped away your tears and burst through the door, but it wasn't him. Standing before you was a boy with messy green hair and large, kind eyes. He was carrying a moving box and had a shy smile that froze instantly when he saw your condition: your torn uniform, swollen eyes, and scraped knuckles.
"Ah! Hello... I'm Izuku, your new neighbor," he began, but his voice cracked when he noticed your expression. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need any help?"
You froze. It was the first time in years that someone had looked at you with concern instead of contempt. On that threshold, with the shadow of your father's mistakes looming over you, fate had just placed a would-be hero right next door.