Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The culling of the innocents

The rampage of the vile

Most heroes are naught but monsters

And the rest have gone and died.”

The creature lolls its head to the side. It wears his mother's face like a mask, pulled too tight at the centre and peeling around the edges, as beetles crawl through the sagging flesh.

It reaches its arm towards him, and he hears the grinding and snapping of bones from the universes beyond, as the arm contorts and twists, jerking in unpracticed, clumsy movements as it reaches up to his face, spindly fingers caressing his cheek.

It leans closer, resting its head on his shoulder, the stench of mould and rotten carcasses spreading slowly, as it tilts his mother's lips towards his ear and whispers:

"I wonder, little seedling, when the time comes, which will you be?"

Words of silk and a heart of ash.

.

.

.

"Whichever one, I will be waiting for you here in hell.”

Izuku opens his eyes and sees the sky.

Which is fine, and a rather nice way to wake up, except for the fact that he could have sworn his room didn’t have a sky roof when he went to bed.

Huh.

He should ask Mom about that.

He stays there for a while, staring at the drifting clouds while cuddled up among his blankets, nightmares and lingering shadows already fading. He contemplates staying there, perhaps getting another hour of sleep, when a heavenly smell reaches his nose. 

Pancakes.

He flops enthusiastically out of bed, his blankets trailing behind him in streams of tangled yellows and greens, as he dashes down the corridor, only to trip and tumble down the stairs. He lands at the bottom in a pile of blankets and unruly curls, only dazed for a second, before jumping back to his feet and rushing into the kitchen.

“Well, isn’t someone cheerful this morning?”

His mom is facing the stove, spatula in hand as she leans forward and flips a pancake upward with a flick of her wrist. It spirals in the air, rotating several times before landing on the exact same spot in the frying pan, filling the room with a delicious sizzling sound.

She’s skinnier now, like she was when he was younger, before dad left, before Izuku was diagnosed Quirkless.

She turns to face him. Her bangs are pulled back, fastened at the back with an oversized All Might clip. Her apron is spotless and tied tightly around her waist, more of a fashion statement than anything. Her skin is clear, lightly glistening as a bead of sweat makes its way down her forehead as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and beams at him, eyes sparkling as she flashes him a teasing smile.

“You usually aren’t up until five minutes after school starts, what’s different about today?” She raises an eyebrow as she piles half a dozen pancakes on his plate.

He blushes. 

“Well, I don’t usually get pancakes for breakfast, with my diet plan and all.” He takes a seat at the table and takes a large bite, ignoring the way it scalds his tongue as he chews on the delightful piece of heaven.

“Oh, I couldn’t help it! You deserve a cheat day after how hard you’ve been working to reach your dream,” she ruffles his hair, and then proceeds to squeeze the life out of him with her iron grip, “My little baby boy, all grown up and ready to be a hero! I know you can do it!”

“C-can I be a hero mom?”

She’s sobbing into his shoulder.

“I'm so sorry, Izuku I’m so sorry-”

“-And once you get into UA I'm positive they’ll be so shocked at how good you are that they’ll give you a hero license right away!” She lets go of him and pumps her fist in the air vigorously.

Izuku smiles weakly at her, “That’s not how it works, Mom, but if it does happen, you’ll be the first to know.” 

The sunlight streaming in from overhead reflects off his fork, making Izuku blink.

“Oh yeah, is there a reason we have a sky roof in every room now?”

His mother giggles sheepishly at him. “Well, I was bored last night, and I figured, why not give this place a little natural light?”

He shakes his head, fighting a grin. “Only you Mom, only you.”

He supposed that this sort of thing was becoming quite normal.

Mom huffs at him playfully and turns back to turn off the stove when she suddenly gasps. “Izuku, it’s almost 7:30, if you leave now you might reach school on time for once!” As if at her cue, his phone starts beeping in his pocket, making him startle and jump.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

He shoves the last of the pancakes into a bento box and drizzles on all the remaining chocolate syrup, running upstairs to change into his new school uniform, because Kacchan just had to go and burn up his last one. And since his school is so damn broke, he had to wear this because ‘school protocol requires you to wear a uniform’ or some other bullshit.

Well, at least he didn’t look like he was wearing a paper bag anymore.

Quickly pinning his hair back with the smaller All Might clip his mom left on the table, he rushes out, grabbing his bag and narrowly avoiding stepping on a few scraps of metal littering the floor.

“I’ll be going then, Mom!”

He hears his mom call out to him just as he exits the front door.

“Izuku!”

He turns.

She glows in the morning light, looking as though she doesn’t have a trouble in the world. Her eyes seem to glisten with pride as she looks at him.

She looks alive.

She looks happy.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Everything’s gonna be alright!”

His lips curl up slightly. “Why?”

“Because we have each other!” She strikes an All Might pose.

His heart clenches. He looks into her eyes, giving her a soft smile.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He shuts the door behind him.

Once Upon a Today, there was a man with great power.

He swore to the skies that he would sacrifice all that was his, just to save the world.

The sky agreed.

He watched as his friends left one by one.

He kept smiling.

He felt the weight of the world as it was placed on his shoulders.

He kept smiling.

He watched his mother slit her own throat, in hopes of finally joining her husband.

He never was able to attend her funeral, for he was saving others that day.

And then, the sky took the woman he loved, strangled her in its gripping embrace.

The sky looked down and asked him,

What else have you left to give?

But he had nothing left.

So he smiled.

And he gave what was left of himself as well.

The last bell rings and Izuku slings his bag over his shoulder and rushes out of class, pretending he doesn’t see the other kids gathering around desks, laughing and smiling and chatting with their friends, without a care in the world.

They seem innocent. As if they hadn’t bullied Shuichi for years because of how her parents never picked her up from school or torn up Taichi’s school books when he’d chosen not to join the others in bullying a new kid into submission.

 Looks can be deceiving, ne kid?

He’d avoided a confrontation throughout the entire day, and he isn’t willing to besmirch the record, especially not on the first day of school.

“ He skipped the last two months of school last year.”

“No one knows what happened at all.”

“I heard his mom killed herself, couldn’t handle a useless son.” 

.

.

.

“If  she had, could anyone blame her?”

He keeps his head down, pretending he doesn’t hear the whispers following him through the corridors. 

Rounding a corner, he hears a familiar voice, accompanied by a loud, even more familiar noise.

He knew that sound. 

He had heard that almost deafening sound right next to his ears, as explosions left poppy bruises blossoming down his neck as he frantically tried to get away, run away, just do anything just to makeitstop . 

A head of explosive blonde hair rounds the corner and Izuku instinctively freezes up. Not again. He had sworn to himself he would be braver, stronger, better this year. He would be facing much worse as a hero, had faced much worse. And yet-

Maybe if he just stayed quiet and pressed himself against the wall, they wouldn’t see him? 

The cool pavement beneath his bare feet and the sky that stretches on forever and ever and ever and-

His breaths come quicker and quicker, echoing in the corridor, which must be what gives him away. 

Kacchan’s eyes meet his, and they darken.

Shit.

 In a blink, Kacchan is right in front of him, the crowd parting around him and the whispers louder than ever. Then Kacchan opens his mouth and the whispers die down, eager to witness the latest confrontation.

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

Kacchan looms over him, flanked by french-fry fingers and wingy dude. 

Not terribly imaginative names, but give him a break. He was panicking here.

Kacchan sneers.

“Just had to turn up, didn’t you? And just as I was getting used to not seeing your fucking useless face around.”

Kacchan’s hand plants itself harshly on his shoulder, and he suppresses a flinch at the rising tendrils of smoke.

A pity. 

That uniform was brand new.

His fingers instinctively curl around his notebook in a vain attempt to protect it from Kacchan. A warning blast has his ears ringing, and Kacchan glances down at him with an expression of loathing on his face.

“ Is...that a skirt?”

No, it’s a Tasmanian pop tart, idiot.

“So what, you come back to school after so long, and now you're a fucking trap?“

“W-what? No Kacchan I-”

“Or maybe quirkless Deku just want people to notice him, like the little attention whore he is. I bet you're just waiting to bend over for the first guy that sees you, like the dirty slut you are. Does this make you feel useful Deku, Is that it?”

Excuse me?!?

“T-that’s just wrong Kaccchan! What the he-”

Kacchan sneers, hands smoking.

“The fuck were you saying again, quirkless Deku?”

Izuku falls silent. 

As if he really needed a reminder of his place in this school. His place in the world.

While Izuku is distracted, a hand reaches out and grabs his notebook from his clutches. Temporarily forgetting his fear, he grabs out, eyes wide. That notebook was almost filled, that held months of work, designs and blueprints that he hadn’t even implemented once. 

An explosion right next to it has him cowering back.

Kacchan starts flipping through the pages of his notebook, and Izuku clamps down on the urge to run at him, to snatch it away and hide it from the world because that notebook was his like nothing else was. 

“Oh, what’s this? Shitty Deku still thinks he’s smart, huh?”

Fingers and Wings both burst into laughter, exactly synchronised, and it makes Izuku wonder if they secretly practise together, so that they’re always prepared to be in sync when Kachan says something “funny”.

Kacchan smirks, and dread wells up in Izuku’s stomach.

“I wonder what the notebook would look like ash grey?”

And Izuku just can't.

One moment he was backed up against the wall, shoulders hunched and trembling, and the next his arm is moving on its own, hurling his bento straight at Kacchan’s face and grabbing back his notebook.

Kacchan instinctively brings up his hand to explode the flying projectile, and in an unlikely turn of events, the bento box snaps open.

His actions sink in, and Izuku runs for his life, past the gaping crowd of students. Yet. just before rounding the corner, he pauses and glances back to glimpse a sight he will never forget.

Kacchan is standing stock-still in the middle of the corridor, hand still sparking, an utterly shocked look on his face; absolutely dripping with chocolate syrup.

With a bunny-shaped pancake smashed against his left cheek.

Izuku leans against a tree, panting and trying to catch his breath over the euphoria as near-hysterical laughter bubbles up in his chest, his ears pounding with the sound of his heartbeat, and the children run around the playground.

He did that.

He actually did that.

He’ll pay for it later, he knows, probably with another bruised eye, or a burnt and blackened notebook

But right now, though his hands still shaking and his lunchbox is gone, all he can think is-

I stood up to him.

He knows he didn’t oppose Kacchan, stand up to him or punch him in the face.

(He doubts he’ll ever really confront Katsuki, tell him how someday he may have to face the consequences of his actions, because Katsuki is strong and so confident and so worthy unlike Izuku who is Useless and-)

“Aaaand… HE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE! GOLD MEDAL!”

“EEHHHH?!”

Izuku jumps about a metre and swivels around, and there in the shadows is Shuichi, her head barely a few centipedes away from his, as she hangs from a lamppost.

Heart still racing, he smooths down his skirt and ducks into a conveniently-located alley. 

“Don’t just do that out in public! Someone could hear us!”

She just laughs at his strangled whisper.

“Sure, dumbass. Someone could hear you . I could dance naked on the streets and nobody would know.”

Izuku groans, trying desperately to hide the blush spreading over his freckled cheeks.

“Please, for the love of god don’t do that.”

“Aw. Spoilsport.”

Izuku ignores her. 

“Soooo…what did I miss? Did you make any new friends? Did you see the rude blasty bastard? Did you punch him in the face?”

He smiles.

“Well, as a matter of fact…”

“You. Did. NOT. ”

“Well, technically, I didn’t,” Izuku admits.

“But?”

“But I kinda might’ve accidentallythrownapancakeathisface so...”

“..."

Shuichi bursts into loud, raucous laughter.

“Oh my gosh - you didn’t - that’s just - “

She breaks off into peals of laughter, and Izuku grumbles at her, suppressing his smile.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh now, but you won’t be laughing when Kacchan kills me and I come back to haunt you.”

“That would just give me more time for me to annoy you!” Shuichi giggles, as she twirls on top of the lamppost and proceeds to flip over a park bench. 

Show off.

“Anyway, while you were at school, I was doing important stuff.”

“School is important, y’know,” Izuku protests weakly.

Shuichi, predictably, ignores him.

“So you know the shop around the corner, I found some greaaat discounts on PCBs there, you said you were almost out of circuit boards, right? I swear you must eat them or something, you run out so quickly. I didn’t even think they sold circuit boards in actual stores anymore.”

“Well, I-”

“And there’s this little boy in the park who can’t find his mother, and you should probably go help him since you’re pretty jobless anyway.”

“So mean to your senpai Shuichi cha-”

“Also old Sarutobi’s got a clearance sale on wires and batteries and stuff, and you won’t be lieve how cheap the stuff is-”

“What are you, a car salesman?”

“And I think the hardware store is giving away boxes of incandescent light bulbs at quarter price! Quarter! Provided, the energy efficiency’s shit, but free stuff, y’know?”

Izuku sighs.

“You do know that we have money and can afford the normal prices, right? You don’t have to search for discounts all day-”

“It isn’t about the money, it’s about the idea that there’s a discount! If there’s a sale, you gotta buy everything ! That’s how it works. Izu baka.”

“...”

“Also the grocery store has a buy one, get one free on Taiyaki, so you have to buy it all and-”

“Mrow.”

“-And Negi missed you while you were at school.”

Negi stares up at him with eerie, green eyes in an expression that might have been cute, except for their ragged, half shorn fur, stump of a missing ear, and the vicious snarl pasted on their face. Izuku found it cute anyway.

Negi jumps onto his shoe and proceeds to attack his sock.

“Well, come on come on come oooon, they’ll be out of stock by the time you get there!”

Izuku sighs, and scoops Negi up, places the kitten in his hair, and resigns himself to another evening spent discount-hunting.

It’s almost dark when Izuku comes home; the sun is setting, which would probably have looked beautiful if it weren’t for the foreboding clouds cluttering the horizon. Instead, the sky looks like an old carrot in the fifty-percent-off aisle in the grocery store.

Negi rolls behind him, the fluffy white monstrosity nipping at Izuku’s feet as he shifts the supplies in his battered hands to open the front door as he opens the already slightly ajar door.

“I’m home!”

He dumps the pile of purchases onto the couch, with not nearly enough care for all the delicate electric components ( not to mention the squishable Taiyaki).

“Mom?”

The lights are all of.

Izuku looks around, and he sees no trace of her in the room.

She said she would be right behind him, and he looks around but it's so dark and so quiet and there’s not a soul there and-

A creak.

His eyes widen a fraction as he glances around.

“Mom, you’re scaring me. Where are you?!?”

He hears a muffled sound from the living room and there's a trail of yarn draped across the couch that travels behind the sofa-

There.

Inko lies limp, spasming with the occasional shudder. Her head twists upwards and when she sees him her eyes brighten, glowing like Negi’s in the dim light, as she smiles brightly at him.

"̴͘I͞͞zu̕͏k̡̕͡u̵̢ ̷d͡a͢͏̨rl̷͟͜iņg̢,̷ ̵͜͠ḩow̴͟҉ ̴̢̕w҉͝a͡s͘͟ ̶͡s̛͟͜c̷h҉o̵̸͞o͘l̵͘?͏̨"

Izuku’s face softens, and he crouches down and pulls his mother up from her slumped position and rests her head in his lap.

".̢.̕.I-̶Izu͡ku?"

“It’s alright, Mom.”

She lets out a hoarse groan.

“Why?”

He slides the All Might clip out of her hair gently. She jerks again.

“Because I am here.”

Her eyes dim, then flutter shut.

All is quiet.

Chapter Text

“Mama! Mama! Look!”

Izuku is six when he makes his first real invention.

His mother smiled at him, carefully slipping off her shoes and setting down her bag before reaching out to wrap Izuku in a warm hug.

“How is my baby doing today?”

Izuku wriggled out of her grasp impatiently, wrinkling her pencil skirt, slightly chubby hands still clasping something. Clumsily, he shoved them up near his mother’s face, almost poking her eye out in his enthusiasm. His mother reached out and plucked the object from his hands, taking care not to displace any of the wires sticking out from and around it.

He is a prodigy even at such a young age, his mind made of stars and space, always stretching above and beyond boundaries that were never clear to begin with.

It is almost easy to forget that he is a child.

“Look what I made, mama!”

“Of course Izu, but put the screwdriver down first!”

Izuku pouted but did as he was told.

With the screwdriver safely on the table and out of reach, she looked back at him and smiled wide, her eyes seeming to glimmer in the light that reflected off the shiny metal.

“That’s amazing, dear! What does it do?”

Izuku grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the table, where a pile of building blocks and a remote control lay and set it down with the air of someone about to announce an invention that would change the world.

“This is my hero-bot! See, if I press this button here, the machine will start. And here are the heat-sensy things, these will help heroes look for people who are trapped since people are warm and give off heat rays. Like a hot pancake! And, and here, if I do this, then my hero-robot will move away all the debre... uh .. debree-”

“Debris?”

“Yeah, that! And the machine will catch all the people and no one will be hurt! And the best bit, if I press this button, listen-”

A tiny voice sounded from a small speaker tucked away between some wires.

“It will be fine! Why? Because-”

“I am HERE!” Izuku shouted along with the recording.

Obligingly, his mother clapped and cheered.

“That’s so cool! I’m sure you’re going to be the coolest engineer when you grow up!”

She picked him up and swung him around as best as she could, oblivious to the smile slowly fading off Izuku’s face.

“I’m going to go get changed, sweetheart! Go ahead to the dinner table.”

Even after his mom had left the room, Izuku stayed rooted to the spot, staring at his robot, his smile somewhat dimmed with confusion and the beginning of sadness.

“But- I want to be a hero…”

The hero-bot sparked on the table.

Izuku runs his fingers through his mother’s hair gently, brushing away the thin, green strands from her forehead. In the background, the radio continues to play.

Her forehead is cold to touch underneath his hand.

He gives a soft tug.

The wig comes away easily into his hands. He sets it aside.

His hand drifts down to his mother’s neck, fingertips settling on the clasp of the necklace looped around her neck. It really is a beautiful necklace, the elegant loops and swirls of the pendant catching the light and seeming to give off a soft glow. 

The back of the necklace, though, upon closer inspection, seems to be pinching her skin in a way that looks painful and would probably leave a mark on her pale neck. His fingers tighten around the clasp.

“Izuku, while that’s a nice drawing, you’re getting marker all over the dining table.”

He knelt on the chair, scribbling out a smiling cat on a sheet of paper. Piled underneath it were medical diagrams and blueprints that Inko couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

Sometimes, Inko worried about her Izuku, worried that he spent too much time in his books, that he didn’t get along with other children, that his intellect meant that he would never get to have a proper childhood.

Inko knew that it wasn’t normal for a child of eight to be able to understand such complex diagrams and inventions that many adults would struggle with, much less create them himself. The starter DIY robot kits that she had bought him had long since become unnecessary, raided for spare parts by Izuku. 

But she could at least let him have this small comfort.

She was pulled out of her musings by Izuku brandishing the eye-searing, bright ‘Present Mic Yellow’ marker in her direction, holding up the paper.

“This is Negi, mom! I saw them in the garden, eating the flowers on your rose bushes!”

Inko sighed, dreading the mess she knew she’d have to clean up if what Izuku was saying was to be taken as the truth. The cat’s smile mocked her exasperation.

“It looks lovely sweetie, is the cat still in the garden? You know how I don't like it when the shrubbery is ruined. You already scorched the trees a few days ago with your missile launcher!”

Izuku laughed sheepishly, glancing out the window to view the charred leaves that clung to the peach tree.

“Sorry Mom, but Negi insisted on eating them. Oh! Good job mom! Negi said that the roses were the best they had ever tasted.”

Inko wiped a marker smudge off his cheek, mildly amused.

“They?”

“Negi said that they were primaeval, and didn’t need any gender to confirm and contain their existence, and told me anyone who said otherwise could go suck it, ‘cept with a lot more bad words.”

Inko paused. She was relieved that Izuku still occasionally acted like the child that he was, but...

“I-Izuku, aren't you getting a little too old to have imaginary friends? Cats don’t talk baby, you know that.”

“ I just told you, mom, Negi isn't a real cat. They’re a yokai!”

The cat in the drawing winked back at Inko.

Inko blinked. Then blinked again.

That had to be a trick of the light.

“Izuku, do you know what yokai are?”

She couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice.

“Uh- Let me ask Negi. Hey Negi, what are yokai?”

Negi grunted. A cat shouldn’t be able to make that sound. Then again, Izuku had thought that cats couldn’t speak either. Maybe it’s just a yokai thing.

“Yokai are spirits, kid. Like the supernatural kind, not the stuff you get drunk on. Wait, how old are you, a hundred? On second thought, ignore that last bit.”

Izuku obliged and repeated the beginning of Negi’s description.

Inko stared at Izuku and then stumbled away to the kitchen.

“Man kid, your mom doesn’t look very happy. She could stand to loosen up a bit.”

Izuku frowned at the cat, who proceeded to lazily paw at his ear. 

“You were right. How come she can't see you?”

“Told you pipsqueak, she’s not like you. Her eyesight is fogged over by the ever breaching curse of normality. She can’t see my kind.”

“...Oh. Okay then.”

Negi sighed. 

“Youngsters these days never take the time to listen.”

“Sorry, Negi-sama.”

“Whatever kid, just call me Negi. I’m gonna go pull out the flower beds. Hope I never see you again.”

“Wait! I’ve got so many questions! Are you really a spirit? How does that even work? Do you-”

But the cat, or yokai, or whatever they were, had already slunk out the door, leaving Izuku alone in the living room with only the faint strains of his reconstructed radio and his thoughts for company.

Izuku is eight when he learns that reality is subjective.

The next morning when Izuku came down for breakfast, he found the flower beds completely ruined, and the windows lined with salt.

He never talked to his mother about Negi again.

“../-...../-/.../...And now for this important commercial message. Don’t touch that dial, we’ll be right back!”

“~If you like pi ñ a colada,

And getting caught in the rain~”

The radio host chuckles. It is a deep, yet grainy sound, punctuated by static from the poor signal. In the almost-silence of the room, punctuated only by soft breathing, the sound lingers in the air like the groan of machines buried deep underground. 

“Then head on down to the LOVE BAR, where people with strong opinions and a want to change society can meet up! Your prime romantic hotspot located at-”

Izuku turns off the radio.

_______

“-And what I’m trying to say is that with the pace technology is advancing and the achievements society has made, it’s completely possible! Imagine, a fully functional robot, capable of being realistic enough and containing enough fine motor skills to blend in with normal society, making it perfect for subterfuge! Not only would it put more heroes and police officers out of risk of injury in villain attacks, but it could also rescue and evacuate civilians with maximum efficiency! The possibilities are endless!

“...”

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and they whirled in the air in ribbons of pale pink. Petals drifted on the water in the koi pond, and the fish swam freely about. A lone petal made its way through the open window in the classroom, landing on Bakugou’s desk, who flicked it off with a small explosion. 

“U-um, it’s very much possible! The skin is, um, synthetically manufactured to make it almost indistinguishable from that of a human.”

“Midoriya.”

“I have t-the blueprints with me! It’s all sketched out, and I know it’s possible, it just-”

“Midoriya, your presentation is already five minutes over the time limit. Please sit down.”

The teacher lay sprawled back in his chair, picking the dirt out of his fingernails.

“But Sensei! I’m almost done and-”

“Sit down.”

Izuku slumped, and made his way down the row to his seat, only to trip on a student’s protruding legs. His blueprints went flying through the air, fluttering gently downwards, and his classmates’ jeers and taunting laughter followed.

His elbows banged into the desks on either side and he landed with a thud, his vision blurring slightly as tears of pain sprung to his eyes.

Bakugou looked on with his usual superior smirk.

“Fuckin’ Nerd.”

“Haha! He is, isn’t he, Bakugou-kun?” The girl with colour-changing hair drawled, fluttering her eyelashes rapidly, as she leaned forward in her seat, tilting her head to the side. “I bet he just stays inside all day, playing around with his little machines because he thinks he can be a hero!’

“Yeah, I bet that’s right!”

“Useless Deku.”

“What, you gonna cry?

“Ha! Nerd.”

The teacher ignored it all. 

Only a sigh and a “Get up and go back to your seat Midoriya.” 

That was all he got.

Izuku is ten, and all men are not created equal.

Izuku turns back to his mother, not a tremble in his hands as he reaches into the bedside drawer, rummaging around until his fingers brush a rounded handle. He draws it out.

The silence presses down on him, almost as bad as the noise had been, but he presses on. He is used to it. 

He feels the weight of a stare and looks up. At some point, he isn’t sure when or how, Negi had slunk into the room and perched on the cupboard, his unblinking green stare seeming to give off an eerie, radioactive-looking glow. Huh. He doesn’t think he is supposed to find that comforting, but somehow, it is.

He pulls his hair into a small messy ponytail and gets to work.

Time passed.

The days blurred into each other, a paradox of agonizingly long yet unremarkable and forgettable moments at the same time. Slowly, Izuku stopped speaking up in class, learnt to pretend that he didn’t know what the teacher was talking about, that it only gave them another thing to make fun of. 

But the label of ‘Nerd’ still stuck.

At twelve, Izuku, like most other children his age, couldn’t wait for school to finish. When the school bell rang, though, unlike most of his classmates, Izuku didn’t linger even a moment in the classroom. Instead, he dashed outside, past the crowds of students milling through the doors, not slowing down until he was at least two blocks away.

He set down his bag and reached for his notebook. Just as he had thought. It was unsalvageable, burnt through from cover to cover until it was barely hanging together. He could just about make out the number 10 in the corner.

Another notebook sacrificed to appease Kacchan’s temper.

It had been his pencil-box yesterday. And his All Might keychain the day before.

But his notebooks were supposed to be off-limits. He had always kept those hidden away, far out of Kacchan’s reach.

Not anymore.

His fingers involuntarily clenched into a fist, and a wave of anger rushed through him, blood rushing in his ears and the unintelligible noise at the back of his mind sharpening into angry murmurs.

Yet a moment later, the fight drained out of him, his shoulders slumping. What could he do? What could he ever accomplish against Kacchan?

Nothing, that’s right.

Useless Deku.

Izuku sighed and walked away, tossing the scraps of what was once his notebook over his shoulder back into the dusty alley. He would have to write it up again by examining his finished designs.

He brushed past his mother the moment he entered his house, sprinting up the stairs and pulling the schematics towards him before he even finished collapsing into his chair. He spent hours buried in his work, analyzing behavioral data, anatomy, and video surveillance late into the night. He knew it was possible, knew that he could do it.

Izuku is twelve, and he isn’t sure if it even matters at this point.

“Ouch!”

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Nothing Negi, just stabbed my finger”

“Annoying youngsters. Be more careful!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Tch, what would your mother say?”

“...”

“Sorry.”

Izuku skipped up the stairs to his room, humming all the way.

He packed his bag with paper, colour pencils and his hero notebook No. 12, and rushed downstairs.

“Izuku, hurry up sweetie, I finished packing the food for the picnic!”

“Coming Mom!”

He slung his backpack on his shoulder and stepped towards the door.

Izuku is thirteen when-

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I̵͓̼̗͙͚̥͉̩̕ͅ ̧̛̪̯̮̼d̝͓̗̜o̟̜͓̝͖͍̯ͅn̛͓̣͙͓̲t҉̞̖͎̻̩͈̟̜ͅ'̢̧̭̹̜̬͡ţ͍̜̜̮͇̘͈̥ ̨̞̮͕̘̺͓̞ͅt̶̴̺͔̬h͎͇͇͉̮̪͠i̘̺ͅn͔͓̯̰ͅķ҉͎͍͓ ̤͍̭͕͈͓͎͓͢w̪̱̠̰̙̻̯ͅe҉͇͖͎̲̭̪̙'̴̪͚̜̺̩̙͎͖͠r̢͔͎̥e̗͚͔͇̹̰̠͘͢ ͉̠̭̬͓c҉͓̝̙l̛͏͎͚͈͖o͏͓s͡҉̨̦ḙ̺ ̢̬̮̟̘̤͇e͔̱̜̝̪͉̲n͏̞̯̱̞̖o͙͍͜ų̴҉̮̠̹̪g̢̢̜ḥ̙̠̣̗̝͎̼̩ ̼̩̹t͇̻̗̜̫͝ͅo̶̰̘̠̜̭̬ ̴̵̠̭̜̜͈̺̯̺ş̢̥̰̖̤̟͢h̨̘̜a̴̞͎r҉̼͟e̴͈̖͚ ͇̳̺̜̘̕d҉̞͙̜͍̗̣̪r̛͏͎̭̖a͡͏̨͇̣̺m̢̬͇̬a̴̞̯̮̗̼̺t͚̱͎͚̹̫͙͉͘̕͠i҉̞̖͓̣̩͜͞c͉̩̮̙͔̜͉̞͚͟ ̸͏̺̰͠b̩̣̝̫̫͚̺͞͞a̗̱͚͟c̳͙͈̩ͅk̴̳͉̗̥s͇̖̹̫̬͉͟t̛͖͚͝o̢͈̜̝͖͖̪͕̮̳͘r͍̲̗̜̠͎̦͚̳͞i̷̦̮͙͚̰̣̰͟e͔͇̫s̪̫̲̳̲ ̤̭͕͙̜̮͙͢͢j̴̛̯̭͙̲͚͇̦̬͢u̼͙̬͚͓s̵͕̳t̬͕ ̷͎͔̳͓͈̙̪̕y҉̘̣e̶͚̕ͅt̨̳̝͘,͚̳͓̹̫̣̞͞͡ ̥̖͚͙̬̺̩̜d̦̖̣̣̫̙͕̕ͅo̶͏̛̟̪̮̖̹͇̝͓̱ ̳y͏̶͙̲̙o̰̳̭͇̕͡u̷̥͎̠̻͕̠̦͈̞͜͡?̵̮̠͡͝

W̧͋ͫ̿̉͊ͥ̐͐ͧ̓͆͛̓̆̆͏̢͎̝͖̮̘̜̲̰̞̥̖̝͉̝̰̱͝h̡͖̙͈̬͓͎̲̠̞̮̩̥͕̩̓̔ͧy̷̻̞͓̳̹͈͚͔̠̭͚̟͚͍̺̳̙͆̏̃̓̂̋̐̔ͪ͆̃̀̄̔ͦ̐̊͝ ̍̏̎̾͛́͐̑̐̎̄ͭ̆̎ͦͫ̊͛͌͠͏̱̭ͅd͕̯͍̩̤̜̹͎̙͎͚ͤ̔͋̊ͣ̈ͧͬͬͮͩ̆̆̋͛͢o̸̢͉̘̮̪̰͔͍̺͍̩͉͖̹͕̩ͯ̎̋͗̏͑͗͐̓͋͞n̶̬̻̱͇̽̒̀͗ͫ̃̀̒̄̆̊̇̍ͣ̐͋̇͌̓͠'̅̾̿̚͏̨̙̟̬͙̙̞t̷̸̍̑ͧ̅ͥ́͂ͦ̚͏̦̝̞̦͙̗̘͍͍͇͓̫̟͎̖͓ͅͅ ̢͙̙̦̹̫̭͉̜̜̲̳͚̘̮̲̐̀ͧ̽̃̂̒͌̍ͪ͐̆ͮ́ͅͅͅw̷̵̵̢̤̟̼͈̫̘̞͍̪̪̗͂̊̂ͣͫ̌ͤ͊ͭ̓̏̆ͯ͆̐̋ͮ͟e̢̡̛͍̯̲̞̲̣͚͈͛̏̾͛̀̓ͫͪ̚͜ ̷̡̛̛̛̺̗̟͎̋̐̂̒w̰̟̹͉͇͈͕̘̦̩͓̙̖̳̘̜̞ͧ̉ͦ̋͐͆ͭ̔ͥͯ̓̊͂ͤ̕a̧̟̥̰̥̭͓̲͇̬̩̠̼̪̔̃͒̓͑͋͌̓̋̀͂͘͞ͅi̶̧͓̻̥̪͇̥͓̬̱̘͎̬̭̼̰̯ͦ͑̆̂ͥͧͯͧ́̓͟ẗ̮͚͓̬͔͔́͂̌̾̐̐̆̽̂͑͗͢ ̴̶̡͔̠̭̱̟̹̰̗̻̳̮̯̤̬͖̼̟͋̉̀̑ͦͦ̄ͬ͐͢a̸͙͇̞͚ͣͧͦ̿̆̕͘͝n̦͓̘͎̱̤̻̪̫͈̦̫̔ͬͭͬ̎͢͞͝d̛̙̝̭̮͇̤̓͊ͤͦ͋͌ͧ͑ͥͮ͟ͅ ̓̽ͩ͊̿ͫͨ̈́͏̢͏̧͖͚͍̞̠̭̺̩̟̻͖̜̟͙̣̲͡s̡̢͕͕̰̗̗͍̪̥͇̼̱̺̺̃̓͂̄̎̅̆̐̂̈͛̆̃̀͜ͅe̴̊̊́̒͛ͭ̂͂ͥ͌̽ͪ̈́ͪ̐̚͏̘̗̼͓̭̝̣̱̯̻̥̠̕ͅͅę̸͎̜̪̩̲ͫͣ̃̃̆̿̐̓̿̃̈́ͧ̕͢͡?̴̨̡͍̣̣̙̲̖̮̯̭͖̻͎̃̅ͥͩ͛́ͤ̅̓ͬͭ͋̏͢͠

Izuku lifts the handle.

And then he lowers it straight into his mother’s neck.

Fearandpainandsorrowandangerandgrief-

The tears dripped down his face, blurring his vision and spilling across the laptop keyboard. He just scrubbed them away roughly, focusing on the screen despite his pounding headache and shaking hands, typing and typing until he wasn’t even sure what he had written, all he knew was that it would work, that it had to work.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been awake at this point, his mind was hazy and his thoughts just spun round and round through his head and this was wrong this was so wrong, but he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, so he just built and built and built-

This was unhealthy, this was wrongwrongsowrong all the psychology books said so, but it had never been tried before and he just couldn’t stop now, knowing that he could do this, and his mind that sometimes felt like it wasn’t really, truly his worked on and on, and so did he, building until his hands were raw, and it slowly took shape, took shape on the basic framework he had been planning for ages, and this was years’ worth of epiphanies and breakthroughs all collapsed into a few days, his emotions fueling him on.

He had all the materials, he had everything he needed to do this, this was the culmination of years of work and he had already planned out every step, and then the code was done downloading and all that was left was to see if it worked, but it would, because he didn’t know what he would do if it failed. And his hands shook and the tears poured, and Izuku wished and hopedandprayed-

Izuku has grown used to this sight, but it still makes a cold shiver go down his spine every time he sees it, sees the coils of wires and the layers of circuit boards nestled in the hidden opening, knowing that he is holding a life.

‘Not really a life, just a pale imitation,’ his brain whispers. 

‘It’s a life to me,’ Izuku whispers back.

Something so fragile in his hands, something so delicate under his screwdriver.

But he pushes on, and his hands don’t tremble even a bit. It says something that this is so ordinary that he has protocols for it. And so Izuku proceeds.

He doesn’t remember much of that time, the only moments he has even a vague idea of what he did is the vivid flashes of nightmares from then, mixed between his usual dreams. And, well, considering he has no idea how he did it (sometimes it feels like it wasn't even all him), bugs and errors turn up very frequently.

The first time it had happens, his eyes are blurry and the world spins and his lungs burn and twist and-

By the fourth time, he is still worried, heart racing beyond normal limits and breaths coming faster and faster, but the blinding panic is gone.

By the seventh, his eyes remain dry and his hands steady.

The ninth, he starts leaving the radio on.

Now…

He identifies the error within two hours, and by early morning, he is done with updating the code and replacing the burnt-out wiring.

Pulling up the soft silicone layer over her neck, Izuku gently fixes the circuit board back into place.

He fastens the clasp of the necklace.

He pulls the wig back over her head.

And slowly,

ever so slowly…

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H er e yes lig ht u p.

“...Izuku?”

“.....Hey, mom.”