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It always starts because of some stupid comment, doesn't it? Something silly, a throw-away that means so little to so many people and yet everything to the forgotten few.
“Man, quirkless people are useless.”
Izuku’s breath catches in his throat and his pencil streaks across his notebook, cutting through scribbled words and half a drawing.
No one notices. After all, most everyone’s standing around and chatting while he decided to redo his analysis of Crimson Riot. He thought Kirishima might like it. Kirishima's nice and- and manly, or so Izuku thinks that's the highest compliment he could give his peer, the one thing that would make Kirishima smile one of those bright sharp-toothed ones that everyone in the class adores. Him and Kirishima had been getting along (a fact that Kacchan turned his nose to more often than not, unwilling to fight Kirishima over it but that was just about the only thing he wouldn't do. Izuku knew not to sit at their table, and he was fine with that.)
But none of that matters, not as he hears voices join the conversation, voices that he knows, voices of people that he’s friends with.
But am I? The thought drifts through, intrusive and dangerous. His fingers tingle with it, a buzzing that spreads through him, itching beneath his skin, buzzing in something too familiar. It reminds him of middle school, of days spent in a limbo of frayed nerves and cotton-filled ears, noise muffled behind the thoughts crowding his mind.
He doesn't know what they're talking about anymore. The word 'quirkless' comes up again, a few times, really, but he can't keep count. Not as his muscles tense and his heart beats too fast against his sternum, hands shaking as the voices continue. He feels too small in his UA uniform. Skinny and weak and waiting for them to notice him, the back of his neck burning with gazes he's sure are turning his way. They're looking at me, please stop looking, please-
He can’t even find the energy to move, to brush it away, to act as the person that got into UA and became a person, became something more than quirkless and weak and useless.
It's all back, slamming full force into his chest with the reminder that he'll always have the toe-joint and he'll always just be Deku.
For a long time, Izuku didn’t know the difference between an anxiety attack and a panic attack. It didn’t make perfect sense, not until he’d wormed himself into a hole of fear and anxieties so deep, so eternal, that he could feel his heart beating. Thrumming against his chest far too fast, far too strong, and he thought, for but a moment, that he might die. It escalated from there. His breaths had come short and ragged, eyes wide as he processed it. I’m… I’m going to die. Am I… am I okay with that? Am I leaving how I want to?
He didn’t have friends back then, didn’t have anyone other than his precious mother, but he didn’t deserve her and- and-
For some reason, he didn’t want to die. So he had sat in his room, curled on top of his sheets, trembling and trying to force himself to breathe, acting as if he could pull himself out of it. It’s okay, I’m okay, this is fine. Mom won’t - I won’t let her find my body (but what if I need help and I’m too scared to ask?) I’m not about to die, that’s stupid (but people die all the time.) I’m healthy, I can’t just have a heart attack (but does that mean it’s impossible?)
I won’t die here (is it my choice?)
His brain didn’t let him think his way out. Even when he lied to himself, pretending that he had a future in heroics or what not (that was a dangerous game he played, reminding himself of his quirklessness) it didn’t work. It never did (he always tried).
Izuku decided that he’d rather not experience that ever again. It felt like he was dying with body refusing to believe otherwise. Sitting on his bed, aching and alone, crying with tears streaking down his face and blurring his vision.
Sitting at his desk, the voices of his friends break through the fog of his mind and his heart thuds in his chest. It’s heavy, a pressure that just keeps growing into something painful and twisted.
His eyes burn because no, no, not here, not now.
It speeds up and he can’t - he can’t breathe, his chest just hurts. It spreads, his ribs aching with it, burning, his arm - his left arm, oh god - pulsing with pain. And they’re still talking.
He was doing so well. He knew he was doing well. He wasn’t spiraling as often as he had in the past. His friends had even let him mumble away, verbally hyperfixating about something or another (it was heroes, it was always heroes and quirks and skills and possible uses and-) They were great. He appreciated them so, so much.
And here he is, falling again, farther and faster than he had in the past and he- he just can’t stop it. He can’t.
Tears burn behind his eyes, aching and hot, tingling in his warm cheeks- i'mdyingi'mdyingi'mdying.
It doesn’t matter.
It really, really doesn’t.
(That thought rushes through him and it erases that crawling, replacing his anxieties with something empty and cold. It scares him. More importantly, though, is that he wishes he cared. Or that it stopped the suffocation.)
“You’ve probably never interacted with a quirkless person. I can tell you all about it, if you want.” Izuku flinches. Hard. Because they’re practically right beside him and he tilts his head enough to see purple through his fringe. Of course it’s Mineta. He should’ve known. He’s sitting on the desk beside him, probably smirking but Izuku can’t be sure, it’s too blurry and there’s too much green and he doesn’t care.
Wait, was he- was he talking to him?
He continues, something about him having a ‘strong quirk,’ as if that was a reason for him to not have interacted with… With who? Himself?
“I have not. Is it truly different?” Todoroki asks and Izuku - while he still can’t really breathe normally - finds himself thankful as Mineta turns away from him. It's the easiest breathing has been, hiccuped as it is, thick and wet.
“Of course you haven’t, with your dad and all. Don’t worry, you’re not missing much. They’re pretty weak, can’t really do much. They just sit around and wait for people with quirks to fix their problems.”
Feeling returns like a breath of fresh air. His lungs fill and his nose burns and sound comes crashing into him from all sides. People are yelling, he thinks, but all he can feel is his burning skin and the black spots in the corner of his vision.
His chest hurts and his heart’s pounding and he thinks it might kill him if he doesn’t fix this soon.
But are my friends really my friends? If they knew, would they… would they treat me differently?
Of course they would. They, they’re just kids with quirks and they don’t get it. I can’t tell them. Maybe I could - no, testing the waters would be too dangerous, they'd ask too many questions. So I guess I'll never know if... if that was something they cared about.
Do I want to? Do I want to know that?
The thought brings him to a full stop and he stares at his desk, the page blurry and stained with salty droplets.
Oh, he notices absentmindedly, it’s ruined.
Would he fix it? For Kirishima?
Probably. That is, assuming he continues on, as if his heart isn’t about to give out on him.
(It won’t, he knows that, but it hurts and for that second he isn’t quite sure. Would almost prefer it if it did just give out. Only, he’d rather not leave his friends to deal with that, not right before classes.)
“The hell you extras talkin’ about?”
That breaks through and Izuku inhales with a sharp flinch, one that snaps his head up so hard it hurts. But it’s grounding, the physical pain flaring in his throat. His nerves return, and even if it’s in fear at least it’s something.
No. No, nononono-
“Quirkless people - have you ever interacted with one? I heard they can be pretty dull.”
That statement hurts. It coils around Izuku’s heart and with the return of feeling, he just cries. He hunches his shoulders and lowers his head, resting his forehead on the edge of his desk. He can’t let them see it but he - he’s never been good at stopping it (he used to try. A lot. It only led to the distinct feeling that he was drowning and that just - that just choked him up and he had to stop.)
Tears pool and drip, cascading down his cheeks and dripping from his nose, falling on cold, numb hands.
Somehow, he manages to bite back any sounds and keep his shaking to a minimum.
Please, please, couldn’t his heart have given out before Kacchan arrived? Couldn’t he have just escaped without hearing the boy join in - in this.
Because he knows. He knows.
Midoriya doesn’t feel Bakugo’s eyes land on him; his skin’s already burning. And so he doesn’t notice how they harden, scrutinizing his every detail. Katsuki watches how his shoulders shake and his fingers have twisted themselves in his shirt, crooked knuckles white and sobs forcibly silent.
Because even if he wanted to say something in defense of quirkless people - and he does, it’s Deku, he’d do it for them - he can’t.
“Where the fuck did you hear that?” Katsuki bites, a snarl tugging at his lips. But he isn’t yelling, not yet. No, it’s a silent anger, one that crackles in the air like his quirk, daring them to say something. Anything. To give him a reason to pound the living daylights out of any one of them.
(Mineta, it was mostly Mineta, but the others weren’t really fighting him. Not how they should be.)
Izuku’s head pops up so fast, too fast that he hadn’t really wiped away the tears.
Thankfully, no one’s looking in his direction so he’s quick to do it, rubbing his cheeks raw until they’re a bright, scratched red. Huh? His thoughts stutter to a halt as he stares at Kacchan. Kacchan who refuses to look at him just yet. Instead, he’s leveling them with a sharp glare, eyes flashing.
“Well they’re - they’re quirkless.” It still hurts to hear, burns Izuku’s ears, but he’s too focused on Kacchan for it to twist his insides.
“And what, you think they’re useless? I got my ass saved by a quirkless person so if you think they’re weak, you’re callin’ me weak, and I’m not fuckin’ weak.”
Izuku’s jaw drops and he openly stares at that, hope blooming in his chest so warm that it’s almost uncomfortable, filling his body until he remembers just what that even feels like. His hands, his face, his heart no longer thundering in his chest and buzzing in his ears.
His mouth’s too dry to say anything, and even then, what would he say? ‘Thank you’? Then he’d have to answer their classmates questions and he can’t. He quite literally can’t.
“You? That-” Kirishima - who hadn’t really been involved in the conversation - perks up at that. He stares at Bakugo for that moment, brows pinched because there was only one incident he knew of that Bakugo had needed saving from.
An incident that he knew - although most people didn’t - involved someone having rushed out into the crowd to help him before All Might showed up. Someone young, someone that looked as if they might have been Bakugo’s friend. An incident he knows Bakugo won't like him mentioning.
“The… the sludge villain? I heard that someone went to help you before All Might arrived, but - were they quirkless?” Bakugo had never liked anyone bringing up the sludge villain incident, but he practically did it himself, mentioning it in a round about way. When those sharp eyes land on him, he knows he’s right.
That just makes his stomach twist because really? That person was quirkless? A quirkless person had forced themselves to move and help in that situation?
He remembers watching the footage. The fires, the pro heroes standing around and waiting for something. It must have been terrifying.
And yet a quirkless kid had rushed out into the middle of it.
“That’s - that’s manly.”
“That’s suicide!” Ashido gasps and that draws their attention.
Izuku knew that. He’d been terrified when he’d done it, mind scrambling to find a way to survive. But he’d thought it was his fault, the sludge villain getting away from All Might. All Might had told him time and time again that that wasn’t the case, saying something about him being the pro hero in the situation and it fully being his responsibility. He was right, Izuku knows that, but… but still. And then All Might had told him how it was because he’d run out, screaming and terrified, that All Might was able to move and save Kacchan.
It was because of that that he'd received One for All.
“Yeah, it was.” At that, Katsuki pauses, eyes flitting over to Deku. He’s still frozen but he’d moved, head up and eyes locked on Katsuki. It was pitiful, really, how he couldn’t even pretend he hadn’t been crying. His round cheeks are a bright red, freckles darker because of it.
His jaw’s dropped as if he hadn’t expected Katsuki to defend him.
Katsuki’s stomach churns at the sight. But, more than that, it’s what Ashido had said. That was suicidal. That was… the same day that he’d told Deku to… “You don’t - listen, you - you extras. You don’t get to look down on quirkless people just ‘cause they don’t have what we’ve got. They - they can be some of the-” he bites down on the word, heart twisting because was he really about to say this?
Could he really afford not to?
“That person might be the - the strongest person I’ve ever met. But they’re not stronger than me, okay! They’re just stronger than you fuckin’ extras and don’t forget that. Only I’m allowed to look down on him.”
The words catch them off guard. They’re caught staring, mouths open because Bakugo never said things like that. It was so… touching, almost, but mostly scary.
Izuku bites his lip, hard, fighting to not cry again or draw attention to himself but that - he wasn’t expecting that.
How could he not cry? He’d never been good at that.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to think on it.
“Midobro, did you know them? You went to the same middle school, right- Midobro?”
Uh oh, Izuku freezes because now they’re all looking at him. Him, in his puffy-cheeked red-eyed glory. Him, staring just as wide eyed and confused, hope blossoming where that cavity had been.
His heart spikes and his ears buzz, a static washing over his nerves as he realizes that he’s stuck, again, only this time they’re-
“C’mon nerd.” A hand wraps around his upper arm. It drags him from his seat roughly, pulling him away from the stares and the whispers. Soon, the hum of conversation has grown distant but the hand won’t let him go. It’s calloused and warm and Izuku would know it anywhere.
“K-Kacchan, you can-”
“You just let them walk all over you like that?” The question dumps cold water over Izuku and he pauses. It rushes down his back and through his legs, leaving him hopelessly, helplessly numb. Because, sure, he defended him, but he was still the same person. He still hated his guts. Even after they fought, even after the All for One incident, he still - he was still the same person.
Except, soon he’s being forced to sit on a bench, a cup of water pushed into his hand. It’s cold, the condensation drawing him back. The bench creaks and he peaks, catching the pout on Kacchan’s face.
“Drink.”
He does. It’s cool, rushing down his throat, soothing that burning feeling that had taken hold some time ago. He coughs, slow to come back but it’s working.
And Kacchan, of all people, is the one sitting with him, warm hand rubbing his back.
“I - you’re obviously not okay, so let’s skip that,” he says, eyes nowhere near the One for All user. Izuku doesn’t seem to notice, not if the way his head drops is anything to go by. He’d rather Kacchan leave him and let him lie. That would be easier, far easier than whatever it is the quirk user is implying.
Words don’t come out but Katsuki waits, watching how Deku forces himself to take another sip of water. When those viridian eyes sweep over to him, half buried beneath those uncontrolled curls, so insecure and confused, Katsuki can’t help but sigh.
“They’re assholes but if you don’t say anything, they won’t know.”
“Say anything - what do you expect me to say?” Deku barks suddenly, back straightening as he turns to Kacchan, a new anger alight in his eyes.
Katsuki wasn’t really expecting it but he isn’t too surprised. Deku was like that. Polite, kind, quiet. But sometimes he was explosive. Sometimes he was angry, emotions twisting up inside him until he was bursting at the seams with something he couldn’t control.
That’s what Bakugo was there for.
“I don’t know, anything!”
“Like what? What could I say that they wouldn’t ask me questions about, huh?!” He’s yelling now. But, to be fair, so is Bakugo. They’re practically screaming at each other, sparks popping around Bakugo’s hands as Midoriya flashes green.
Katsuki’s thankful he’d been smart enough to drag the boy to training ground Beta. He wasn’t sure what Deku’s emotional state was going to be. But he seemed tired, down-right exhausted, so Katsuki doesn’t expect the fight to be long.
He’s right.
Deku swings first, fist crackling because he knows it’ll be fine. He knows he can let off some steam.
Katsuki pointedly ignores the tears streaming down his cheeks.
They go back and forth like that. It’s mostly Bakugo defending, taking Mirodiya’s attacks silently. Midoriya isn’t really screaming any more and his attacks grow sluggish, slow and uncontrolled. All the while, Katsuki just looks over his old friend. His eyes are sunken and dark, lip trembling even as he bites it, a thin sliver of blood pooling and turning the line of his mouth a bright red. There's a bright desperation to his eyes that Katsuki can't ignore.
Then Deku throws a right hook and it’s so, so bad. It wobbles and it’s aim is poor and Deku isn’t even looking at where he’s throwing. His chin's practically touching his chest, his stance off balance.
Katsuki would laugh if it weren’t what he was waiting for. He let’s the right the hook fly over his left shoulder and Deku stumbles after. When he bumps into Bakugo, chest to chest, he just slumps. Katsuki hardly flinches as the heavy weight slumps against him. He seamlessly catches the ball of muscle and Deku falls right into his arms, cheek pressed to his shoulder and mouth already hanging open.
He’d expected the collapse, he hadn’t expected Deku to immediately pass out. That was… surprising. Sure, Deku hadn’t been doing too well when he’d walked in, but Katsuki didn’t think he was crumbling.
Looking at him now, it’s obvious. Even in sleep, his muscles refuse to loosen. There pinched and tight with worry and anxieties that were sure to settle deep. His cheeks weren’t given the chance to dry and he looked so, so tired. Something bone deep. Something poisonous if allowed to fester.
It really did a number on him and right around when he was doing so well. It was clear as day how Deku’s mental state was skyrocketing, shooting to heights Katsuki hated that he’d never seen.
Man, he’d been the worst, hadn’t he?
Deku smiled and he laughed and his friends happily listened to him gush about some hero or another. He had been accepted in a way Katsuki had never witnessed.
And even though it burned his chest and twisted his heart, seeing that bright smile that he’d ripped away all those years ago, he refused to get in the way of Deku’s happiness again.
He wouldn't let anyone else do it either.
And yet, carrying the One for All user on his back (and what kind of selfless bullshit was that - ‘One for All?’ That was begging to use people like Deku. Heroic, selfless Deku,) he’s saddled with the weight that it happened. He wasn’t there and Deku slipped into that trench of despair that he’d so painstakingly dragged himself from.
Katsuki’s certain that he’ll do it again. He'll pull himself up inch by inch until he’s found a landing or two, a place to rest and be at peace. But that wasn’t enough, not with how far he'd sunken. Plus, his friends wouldn't let him settle.
After all, he was so close and they all knew it. They'd also noticed how he walked that thin line on the edge, dipping his toe into that darkness, self-deprecating jokes slipping past his lips with a smile that would fool the media. Thankfully, his little group of friends always dragged him back. But it never worked. At least, it didn't work for long. He always returned there, almost in a masochistic sense, as if he thought he deserved to slip.
Katsuki’s not fooled into thinking that it isn’t his fault. He knows very well he’s to blame for tearing Deku’s trust to shreds, ripping down his defenses and leaving him with a sense of self worth that was pitiful. He knows it’s his fault.
All the more reason for him to put up with - with being honest about Deku in front of him.
if you think they’re weak, you’re callin’ me weak, and I’m not fuckin’ weak.
That person might be the - the strongest person I’ve ever met.
The expression on Deku’s face after he said that was unfair. It was so hopeful and yet fractured, open in a way Katsuki knew Deku wouldn’t be with his new (only) friends. He was selfless like that, self destructive like that, unaware of how utterly selfish it was to not accept the help given and instead abandon friends so they could watch you burn.
Katsuki couldn’t blame him, though. After all, he was Deku’s first friend and he…
He really was a horrible person.
Katsuki wasn't surprised to run into Aizawa sensei. The man had probably been searching for them, that or he waited for their return. Either way, as he's walking down the hallway and carrying Deku on his back, he spots the man. The man took one look at Izuku, sighed, and dismissed them.
Sensei, Katsuki had stopped him for some godforsaken reason. Aizawa had paused, of course he had, and he looked over his shoulder to him. Heroes… we should learn how to combat quirk discrimination, right?
The question goes mostly unanswered and he’s stuck there, Deku draped across his back and lower lip pouting. Then Aizawa turned to face him, face the picture of indifference.
Could’ve fooled him, only, Aizawa’s eyes shine and flick to Problem Child no. 1.
I suppose a bonus lecture is in order. You… keep doing what you’re doing.
And then he heads into class 1-A without another word.
Katsuki stares after him and bites his lip, keeping it from dropping open.
Sure, he’d just sentenced his peers to a boring lecture that would be more of a scold than anything, but, as far as Katsuki was concerned, they deserved it.
If they wanted to be pro heroes, they not only had to stop talking like that, they had to stop thinking like that. If anyone could fix it, it would be Aizawa.
For the time being, Katsuki would do as Aizawa had said and keep doing what he’s doing. And if that involves tucking Deku in his bed and grabbing him another glass of water, so be it.
He’d move him before he woke up anyway and Deku would be none the wiser.
Hopefully, when he woke up, their class would have learned their lesson. And in case Aizawa wasn't enough, Katsuki would give them supplemental lessons.