Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya was born with a mutation-type quirk; he had two small bumps on the top of his skull and one in the continuity of his spine, and a natural red marking above his eyes that look like eyeliner. As he grew up, his teeth and nails became sharp, a tail and horns replaced the bumps, and his eyes took on a predatory yellow color. Since then, he has been the “demon-looking boy”. Perceptive, he quickly learned not to show his teeth when smiling or talking, to bend over to appear smaller, to never look anyone in the eye, and to always have a submissive attitude to appear as less hostile as possible. As a reward, the world treated him kindly and even tolerated his analytical notebooks. Also, his best friend Katsuki Bakugo, whom he nicknamed Kacchan, liked his devilish appearance, which was nice.
But all his efforts were thrown under the bus when his second quirk appeared, which soon replaced his mutation-type one on his quirk registration.
Touch obedience, a quirk that allows him to take over someone's body and mind as long as there is skin-to-skin contact.
A villain quirk for a villain-looking five-year-old. He has lost his right to live that day.
His parents have forced him to wear loose, covering clothes even though he is heat-sensitive, and to wear a muzzle when he’s at home or a surgical mask when he’s outside or at school to prevent the “monster” from biting. They emptied his room, leaving him only a mattress on the floor and a desk to do his homework. His notebooks were burned and he could no longer write them down; they will not allow the monster child, the villain in the making, to have such accurate and dangerous information about heroes. He lost all his friends. His body became black and blue because of the beatings he received daily at school and home. He became thinner and thinner because of the decrease in the amount of food he was allowed to eat.
When he was eleven, he switched to online courses and his parents got him an old cheap but functional laptop for work. He knows it's a way to hide him, to make people forget that their son is a monstrosity, but he can't help but feel grateful for it. He loves to learn, and to be able to do so without any additional pain is a blessing.
Now fourteen, his skin is covered with scars from cuts and burns.
Locked in his room and his body sore from a recent session of beating, Izuku drags himself to his desk and turns his laptop on. He’s in pain and starving, but he needs to keep going. He watches the only exercise left for him to do with a blank face. He’s exhausted, he doesn’t know how long he can survive this hell. He should just... say fuck it and leave right now. His escape plan is ready for a year now, but every time he actually tried to run away, he froze in front of the window, scared his life will be even more insufferable outdoor. After all, he has food and a roof here. There’s only pain outside, right?
Living by himself sounds like a dream, but he doesn't know how long it can last before he ends up with his throat cut in a dark alley.
He jolts when he hears his mother’s voice, her panic making him anxious. He doesn’t know if he can deal with another beating if she decides to pass her nerves on him.
“Mitsuki, calm down,” the mention of his aunt makes his heart beats faster, she’s the only person left that seems to remember him and sometimes visits him, he loves her, she’s like a mom to him, “Izuku must have screamed because of some horror video game, no need to worry!”
Oh... Right, this time they didn’t muzzle him until after the beating, he must have been loud. He steps closer to the door, ignoring the pain that increases with the movement, to hear her better. Is Mitsuki going to help him, to save him from his parents?
“Everything’s fine, I promise! ... What? Someone called the police? B-But-! Okay, okay, I understand, I’ll call you back, I’ll see how’s Izuku doing, okay? Talk to you later!”
“Inko, my dear,” the rough voice of the fire-breather makes him wince and his fingers brush the most recent burn from his jaw to his neck, “we can’t afford to keep this damn monster with us, we should have gotten rid of it years ago!”
“We should do it now, love. Can you deal with it while I clean the mess, please?”
He steps back before he can listen to more, horror twisting his guts. The mess, they must be talking about the fresh blood staining the living room. ‘I know they hate me, but they wouldn’t go as far as kill me, right...? I don’t want to die – I need to escape, now!’
He acts quickly. Soon enough, his laptop is shut and he puts it and his charger in a laptop bag he managed to hide under the mattress two weeks ago before he opens the window and lands in the back yard.
He touches his muzzle without thinking before he freezes.
He can take it off. His parents will no longer be there to force him to wear it.
He is free now.
With clumsy but determined movements, he finally frees his mouth and rushes to the internet cafe where his escape plan begins.
His hands are shaking as he completes the multiple-choice questionnaire. He hits ‘send’, thanks quietly the waiter as his hot chocolate is served, as he had hidden some money in a pocket of the laptop bag, and looks at the screen with pure delight when it displays his digital diploma validating his year, and therefore completing his middle school studies. ‘It was really a good idea to keep this one last, no human correction needed so immediate graduating... At least, I’ll have some low degree if I survive long enough for it to be useful.’
With a small smile, he moves on to the second stage of his plan. He opens a tab on the website of a shop nearby with a click-and-collect option and begins his shopping.
With a new, filled bag on his bag and his laptop in the appropriate one, Izuku makes his way to a building he took interest in while he was planning his escape. As he had planned, the escape ladder is down, and he quickly makes his way to the roof. With an exhausted sigh, he drops both his bags and rests a bit on the ground. He made it. After years of hoping and months of planning, he finally ran away.
Once the adrenaline is gone, he sits properly to go through the content of his newly purchased bag. He used his parents’ card to pay since he remembered the code from some months ago where he found it while they weren’t home, but he made sure to not buy an amount too big, for multiple reasons; they would have to authorize the payment if the price was too high, his body is too much thin and weak from his injuries, starvation, and lack of physical activity so he needs to buy what he can carry, and the more he carries, the more he would be a potential target for muggers.
So, he now takes out his new belongings of the black bag. There are six small water bottles, multiple energy bars, a sandwich, a folding knife, a phone, two notebooks and pens, a hair bleach bottle, a first-aid kit, red shoes, and several summer clothing. Now that he’s officially homeless, and can’t appreciate enough his cold tolerance, light clothes take less place in the bag, and nighttime sure is cold, it’s like he’s destined to end up on the street.
He puts everything back in the bag except the sandwich and takes small bites. His stomach has become accustomed to starvation, he can’t finish it in one meal.
Finally, he lays down and closes his eyes, letting his mind run wild. ‘Since the police have been called, they may have to report me missing. I should have left before, but it’s too late now. Okay, so, I have enough to survive for a while, I’ll go to the trash beach to hide and have somewhere safer than rooftops to sleep, and I should train myself too. I will most likely have to defend myself, and I’m too weak right now. So, I have somewhere to go, and I’ll have to learn how to use the knife. I’ll have to clean those clothes tomorrow, no doubt the blood will be a pain to take care of. What else... Ah, right, my identity. The hair bleach will be really useful since my dark-green hair is too recognizable. Well, it’s not like my scars and my eye markings are less recognizable, but... Crap, I forgot the make-up. How could I forget that?!’
Izuku groans and facepalms, disappointed with himself. The dread disappeared after he left the store with the bag, so he can think clearly now, and he can see how much this mistake could prevent him from walking during the day without the risk of being spotted.
With a sigh, he decides to deal with it tomorrow and takes off his sweaty and blooded clothes to bandage his fresh wounds, thankfully not over one of his many third-degree burns which, while he can’t feel much because his nerves are fucked, are really hard to deal with without professional medical care. For now, he’s just grateful he doesn’t need staples for those.
Satisfied with his work, he puts on baggy pants above the knee and a sleeveless crop top and carefully curls around his laptop case, head resting on his other bag. Safe at last, he finally allows himself to drift into a dreamless sleep.