Chapter Text
Izuku had always been strong; Katsuki knew that. No matter how many times he pushed the younger boy down, he always stood back up - no matter what. The blonde had never really understood it, settling for a roll of his eyes when he saw Izuku’s efforts. The quirkless were just stupid weaklings: that’s what Katsuki believed for the entirety of his life - he was superior to that worthless green haired idiot.
During his junior high years, Izuku seemed to grow more confident. Of course, Katsuki hadn’t been happy with that. He made sure to be Izuku’s own living hell so long as he kept trying to be a hero...
“Being a hero is a job for the strong people, not you: the quirkless. Give up, Deku! Nobody on this Earth believes in you! You and I both know that.” Shoving the round-eyed boy to the ground, he found satisfaction in the painful thump and the tears in the younger boy’s eyes.
Izuku didn’t respond. He didn’t utter a word, nor did he whimper. He simply took it, hands behind him to hold his body weight up, back slouched, and bangs covering his eyes as he trembled where he sat.
Katsuki scoffed, “Pathetic. Get out of my sight and never think about being a hero again.” With that, he walked away.
Roughly, he pushed his fingers through his hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp. He really was fucked up, wasn’t he? Releasing a sigh, he found himself chewing on his lower lip (since when had he held nervous habits? He was strong and confident! - not like that stupid, crybaby Deku). The blonde cursed under his breath in annoyance, narrowing his eyes at the wall in front of him, drifting back into his thoughts. It was difficult not to, being in a silent room.
In their last year of Junior High, Deku had continued to talk nonsense about his dream of being a hero. Katsuki thought it was stupid, of course. His childhood friend seemed to avoid him, though. It pissed him off at first, but he eventually found himself satisfied with it. Deku was just an annoying hero wannabe.
Katsuki found his eyes drifting over to check on Izuku at times, forcing him to brush it off as an involuntary curiosity. Though, it did him some good, eventually.
On a Friday night, during the autumn months, Katsuki had been packing his things into his bag. As far as he was concerned, all the other students in his class had left the vicinity, as the classroom was silent. The quiet was interupted, however, when a loud crash sounded outside the classroom.
“Oi! What asshole is throwing shit outside?! Get your clumsy ass home - what are you, drunk? Irresponsible bastard; shouldn’t be intoxicated on school grounds anyway. Don’t care what your ass does at home,” his string of curse words and insults were cut off, though, when he slid open the door - there, a familiar mess of green curls unfolded on the ground by his feet - books and papers scattered about.
“The fuck?! Did you break your ankle or some shit? Get up, shitty Deku!” He growled, beginning to shout as usual. Though, this time it was more of a cover-up for the anxiety that bubbled up in his stomach. Back and forth, his eyes frantically scanned the halls. Nobody seemed to be around, from what he could tell - that meant Izuku hadn’t been attacked (Katsuki was supposed to be the only one to bully him anyway. Izuku was his victim).
Kneeling down beside him, he found that his palms were sweating. Damn it, don’t try and blow shit up now, idiot. Calm down; calm down . Fingers shaking, he reached down to gently press two fingers against the younger boy’s neck. No pulse. No pulse. Ah! There it was. It seemed steady enough, but a bit slow. Other than that, Deku seemed unresponsive - and unconscious, at that, with his eyes shut. For once in his life , he mused. It wasn’t at all a good time to laugh, but Katsuki snickered anyway. Though it was certainly inappropriate, he found that it at least served to help the blond keep his cool.
“Tch. Hold on, shitty Deku, I’ll get you some help,” he breathed, words barely audible. Nobody would hear them anyway - that is unless this was some stupid prank. If Deku was pranking him, he silently swore to beat his ass when he revealed it. Even if that were the case, it was only common sense to take the situation seriously. He didn’t want blood on his hands, whether it was his fault or not. Izuku was most likely just ill, nothing too scary. At least, that’s what he hoped.
His fingers retracted, fishing into his jacket pocket for a moment, soon gliding over cold, smooth metal. Wrapping his hand around it, he pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. With quick, experienced precision, he dialed the emergency number - every child in Japan was meant to know it. He was hardly a child anymore; though, his nagging mother had still made sure to pound it into his brain - “Just in case something happened to him.”
Being the confident person he was, Katsuki had always brushed it off with a scoff and a glare. Him? Hurt? Never. He had the most amazing quirk ever, and he was going to attend U.A. and be the number one hero someday. There was no way he’d get into a situation where he needed help.
Katsuki’s fingers faltered momentarily, lingering over the final digit before pressing the ‘call’ button and raising it to his ear, listening to the ringing absentmindedly.
The familiar ringing stopped shortly after, bringing his attention back to the call. A feminine voice spoke on the line, calm and professional. “Japan’s Emergency Services, what’s your emergency?”
Breathing in deeply, he spoke: “There’s a situation at Aldera Junior High. A kid collapsed. Send an ambulance - and quick! I don’t want this idiot’s death on my hands.”