Chapter Text
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a hero. Whether it was to be like All Might or an underground hero like Eraserhead, I just wanted to save people. I hate fate. I hate society. I learned very early on in life that not all men are created equal. Whether it be my lack of a quirk or my...handicaps, people have always treated me as less than. Kacchan said it’s because I’m weak, and it’s more than just in the knees.
Come on. Come on. Go faster.
“Where are you Deku?!” Sweat dripped down my forehead as I forced myself to move faster. Small clicks echoed through the empty hallway as my crutches hit the floor. They aren't far behind me. Faster! I could hear Kacchan’s lackeys laugh as they caught sight of me. Tsubasa cackled as he quickly flew in front of me and blocked my path. I fell backward, directly into the elongated fingers of the other lackey. My crutches fell to the ground and the lackey gripped my arms tighter.
“Hold him still Extra! I’ll teach him a lesson!” Kacchan’s red eyes drilled into my soul. The first hit left a scorch mark on my uniform. The next left a purple bruise under my eye. Kacchan grabbed ahold of one of my legs, my good one, and activated his quirk. I screamed, pain shooting through my body. I hadn’t even noticed he grabbed ahold of my other and did the same. Our homeroom teacher walked through the hallway across from us; she didn’t bat an eye.
Tears fell from my eyes as I kicked and screamed. “Help! Help!” My voice cracked as I called for help. “No one fucking cares about a quirkless cripple Deku! Give it up!” He was right. No one came running. No one helped. I just screamed out into the empty hallway; people were long gone by the time they left me alone.
The halls were quiet now. I struggled to get up from the ground, yelping as I attempted to put weight on my once-good leg. Blood seeped onto the hallway tiles as I forced myself to get up and pull my pants back down on my blistered, bleeding legs. I winced and leaned against the wall, grabbing my crutches from the ground. It took me thirty minutes to make it to the bus stop in front of the school. It took twenty more to get from the bus stop to my house after getting off of it. Thankfully, our apartment building had an elevator, even if it would break just a year later. As soon as I opened the door to the apartment, worry struck my mom’s face.
“Izuku? Honey what’s wrong? Have you been crying? I-is that blood?” For her eleven-year-old to come home with a pained face and blood dripping down his pants, she actually seemed calm. “S-sit down. I’ll be right back!” I nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. So much pain. The blisters and blood.
Mom began by cutting off my pants. She gasped at the sight of blisters and burns. The scratches and bruises. I told her I was attacked by a villain with a fire quirk. With no internet, she had no idea what would happen when she popped the blisters, the effect it would have on my recovery. On the days that followed. When I woke up after three days of bed rest, just to go back to school and for it to happen again. I couldn’t lie that time, I just told her it was a bully, I refused to tell her it was Katsuki. We failed to notice the skin on the bottom of my bad foot, turning an odd black color. The skin on both of my legs, full of pus and infection.
When we finally went to the doctor, we told them I had an intelligence quirk, it just wasn’t registered yet. We needed them to see me.
“Ms. Midoriya, your son is suffering from 2nd and 3rd degree burns on both of his legs. Why are we just now seeing him?” My mom cleared her throat.
“We had went to another hospital, another ER, and they treated him there but we failed to notice anymore wrong until he woke up this morning.” It’s my fault, I figured the pain was normal. All of the other burns hurt, iI just figured it felt worse this time because they were bigger. I was wrong.
“He needs surgery. He has necrosis settled in the bottom of his foot and we need to remove it. Along with an infection in both of his legs that we will give you antibiotics for. We hope that they will clear it out.” I looked down at the floor, as my mom nodded with tearful eyes.
“And if they don’t clear it out?” The doctor cleared his throat.
“He will need surgery to remove it.” She nodded again.
During the surgery, they successfully removed the necrotic tissue. When we went home two days later, ready to take care of my recovery process, we were hoping for the best. They had cleaned my burns and dressed them properly, we assumed the infection would clear up. Oh, how wrong we were.
We went back to check up on the progress five days later. We went to the same doctor as last time, a man with an X-ray quirk. We were all disappointed in the results.
“I hate to inform you that the infection isn’t clearing. We need to prep him for surgery.” My mom, a woman who works three jobs, who has a quirkless son, tried not to cry.
An hour into surgery, as I lay on the operation table, the surgeon made an unsettling discovery. He went to see my mother himself to tell her the news.
“Ms. Midoriya?” She rose from her seat quickly and met him halfway.
“We were able to remove the infectious tissue in his right upper leg and in most of his left leg, However, the infection from his upper knee down in his right leg, and below his calf in his left are too severe to remove. We are going to have to amputate if we don’t want it to spread again. Do we have permission to proceed?” Ms. Midoriya sobbed, tears rolling down her face as she thought of how much pain her baby must be in. She nodded and sat back down in the waiting room, holding her head in her hands. The surgeon, medical saw in hand, proceeded to amputate.
I woke up, groggy from anesthesia and pain meds.
“Mama?” Numb, that was the only word I could have used to describe how my legs felt. My mom instantly began crying.
“I’m so sorry Izuku, I’m so sorry. They had to take them.” It took me a minute to put two and two together before I started crying with her.
“They took my legs?” I looked down and began crying harder at the sight of my missing limbs. The recovery process was hard, three months of homeschooling, of pain. My mom ended up telling the school I wouldn’t be back until my next year, considering we only had a few months left until break and I wouldn’t be back in time. The idea of going back terrified me. Junior high sounded terrifying. The idea of going back to that hell hole. With Katsuki. With even more of a disability.
One day, five months after my surgery, mom and I were sitting in the living room, watching Tv.
“So, the doctor said they can get you fitted for prosthetics next month, they said your recovery is going better than expected.” I nodded, only half-listening. “You’re doctor also cleared you to go back to school when the year starts. Just in time too.” That thought brought me back.
“How long would it be until I could use prosthetics?” My mom thought for a moment.
“Only three months. So, you’d only have to go two and a half months or so in your chair.” I nodded.
“I’m already far ahead of what they would be teaching. Do I really have to go back to school?” During my homeschooling, I sought out harder subjects to distract myself. I had just finished my last junior high course a week or so ago. I love learning. My analysis has also improved as a result of my free time.
She sighed, “I think you should. It’s not good for you to be cooped up all of the time. Besides, if you’re ahead of them, then you have no room to fail.” I nodded, agreeing with my mom’s annalistic mind.
“I guess you’re right.”
The next few days involved buying a uniform and talking to the school about accommodations for my disability. They agreed to supply a desk without a chair in the front of the class for accessibility and obviously a pass from gym class. My mom was going to ask for a bit more, but I told her it was fine. Mom thought that we should cut my hair, seeing that the curly mess went down to my collarbones, I told her it was fine. I actually liked it long.
So, two weeks later, I looked in the mirror and fixed my color. The pants of my uniform we rolled up to accommodate for my missing limbs. I had first rolled them to where you could barely see them, but the uneven length bothered me. I settled to have them both rolled up to the shortest stump. It was honestly strange to have them rolled up but only see one knee. I sighed and put on both of my stump shrinkers and put my hair half up half down. I looked presentable.
I rolled myself out of the bathroom and into the living room where my mom was waiting. She gasped.
“Look at my handsome young man! I make good kids!” She said proudly, bending down to pinch my cheeks. I groaned.
“Oh, hush. You’re growing up and as long as you’re a child, I'm going to take advantage of it.” After locking the apartment, I rubbed my freckled cheeks and she rolled me into the elevator.
I hope today is a good day. God, please let today be a good day.