Chapter Text
The voices are quiet, Izuku tells himself.
And they are. They're so occasional that he barely even recognizes they're there at all.
'Uraraka is avoiding you'
'Iida refuses to fight with you'
'Momo won't tutor you anymore'
'Aizawa doesn't call on you'
'They must be bored of you'
Simple things. He barely even recognizes they're there at all.
He does wonder why they're right, though. Why they're so convincing. Because surely it's just in his head, yes? Momo won't tutor him because of the upcoming test in Present Mic's English class, even though that's never stopped her before. Uraraka probably just wants some alone time, despite the fact that she's a social person and used to love being around Izuku. It's not like Aizawa called on him a lot anyway, except that he's never seemed so reluctant to answer his questions. Iida is just letting pride get to him, never mind that he'd been pairing with Shouto for the past month.
He walks to class alone, already settling back into his Middle School routine. It's not too hard, shrink down, look smaller, don't talk unless spoken to. He doesn't even raise his hand in class anymore. Lunch Rush looks worried when he doesn't take lunch for the third day in a row, but he says nothing. Instead of joining the rest of the previous 'Dekusquad' (he pretends he doesn't hear the new 'Iidasquad'), Izuku reserves himself a spot in the courtyard outside. If he took any note of the new cameras in the courtyard a week after he starts this tradition, he says nothing.
It does not take long for him to start to skip dinner at the Dorm, hoping to go unnoticed for the night. No one asks him if he wants any dinner. The portions of the Dorms dinners are downsized soon after.
He retires to his room as soon as school is over.
He does not sleep until three.
The voices are quiet.
***
The voices are quiet, Izuku tells himself.
They are. He swears they are. He can't even tell they are there. They don't even affect him.
They are quiet when All-Might stops returning his calls. They are quiet when Aizawa does not speak a word to him for three weeks. They are quiet when he is left alone for every group project. They are quiet when he starts 'forgetting' to put foundation on to cover his injuries. They are quiet when his classmates don't care. They are quiet when Izuku's gaze lingers on far too sharp objects for far too long.
They are quiet when he permanently retires his analysis journals. All seventeen of them.
The English test in Present Mic's class comes and goes. Momo does not tutor him.
Aizawa does not all on him. He does not even get his test results back. He cannot find his name on the scoreboard.
Iida and Shouto create a combo move. Izuku continues to train alone.
All-Might does not appear to train him at their usual training time. Izuku does not stop going.
He continues to skip meals. Nobody asks. Nobody even notices.
Nobody cares when he does not go to Recovery Girl after he gets injured. They pay no mind when they do not disappear under foundation the next day.
It is late at night when Izuku does his homework. It is early when he gets up. He makes breakfast for everyone and simply takes some water for himself. After two weeks, even the water is abandoned, and Midoriya runs to school alone. He keeps the beach clean as he promised. All Might does not notice. Nobody talks to him about it. They notice, and he knows they do. They do not care. Izuku is alone.
The room is dark. He sits on the foot of his bed. He does not know how long he has been there. He does not care. He can not remember the last time he went out. It's the fifth weekend he spends alone in his room, surrounded by the darkness he cages himself in. Nobody will notice. Nobody has noticed. The windows are foggy, his hair is a mess. Izuku is static, and he does not respond. Even if someone called his name, he would not respond. He is unaware of his surroundings, but he knows something is wrong. This is exactly what he used to do in Middle School.
Nothing has changed.
He should have known that nothing would have changed.
The voices are quiet
***
The voices are quiet, the greenette insists.
They don't exist, they aren't even real. He doesn't notice them, they don't affect him at all.
Even after he is turned away when he tries to assist Tsuyu when she is injured. Even when the others seem to shield her from him.
The voices are quiet when he fails his English test, even though he knows for a fact that he got everything right. The voices are quiet when Aizawa makes him sit out on hero exercises for the fifth time in a row. They're even quieter when the teachers refuse to let him see Eri. The voices are quiet, they are. He swears that they are quiet. If they were loud, he would tell someone. He would tell someone, he promised he would tell someone. So they aren't loud. They can't be.
Besides, since when did heroes have voices in their heads? No, that's simply ridiculous. Heroes can't save anybody if they can't even save themselves, after all. And Izuku can save himself! He has always saved people. He even saved Eri from Overhaul. A hero did that. He was a hero, and therefore the voices couldn't be loud. Impossible. The logic didn't line up, it just couldn't.
He was fine. If something was wrong with him, then he would tell somebody. Just like how if his teachers or classmates would tell him if they wanted him to do something or if they wanted him to change. It was fine. Everything was fine.
When he finds one of his notebooks missing again, he stops taking them out altogether. He keeps them in a box under his bed, leaving them there to collect dust. His classmates seem to hate them anyway, so they'll probably appreciate it.
Sometimes he misses the notebooks, but then he glances around the classroom and whatever doubts he had about it were forgotten.
It's not the voices, he tells himself. Even as the crimson drips from his hand, it's not the voices. It could never be the voices, it was an accident. He swears. He just tripped, he didn't mean to fall so hard, he didn't even know he was in the bathroom when it happened. Hell, he'd barely known he was a person when it had happened. Thats just the shock factor, though. It's nothing important. It never is.
He tells his classmates he dug his nails into his palm to hard. They believe him.
(In truth, its not really the voices. Even if they are defeating, screaming horrible profanities and cursing his name, it will never really be the voices. Maybe he simply takes pleasure in the fact that he's hurting. Maybe he thinks that he deserves it. Nobody will ever know.)
***
The voices are quiet, so quiet. Practically silent. He can't hear them, they don't even exist, he's going insane-
When two HPSC members arrive to take him somewhere, Izuku is unsurprised.
Subconsously, he was still analysing. He knew what thing meant. He knew what they thought.
But he was wrong, because everything was fine. Everything had to be fine.
He follows them without a fight, simply glancing up and nodding. He stands up calmly and follows the two out of the door with little hesitation. He doesn't outwardly react to the box they are carrying, the one that used to hold his notebooks. They have seemingly been removed. He doesn't react inwardly to the revalation either, simply abliging as they pull out quirk-cancelling cuffs and coldly ask for his hands.
He is dragged out of the school. It is unnecessary, cruel even. He has been no bother, he hasn't even struggled. The rest of 1-A watch, looking betrayed and hateful. In the back of his mind, Izuku can hardly blame them. It's the same look he gives himself whenever he looks in the mirror, whenever the blood trickles from his skin.
Izuku is thrown roughly into a police car. His nervousness increases when he cannot see Tsukauchi-Sama in the vehicle. Did they not deem this an important enough case? Surely they would want the truth.
He has stepped into a Tokyo police car. He knows he is not going to the Musutafu station.
Something is wrong. When is it not?
The voices are still quiet when the HPSC start growling and shouting at him. The voices don't respond. They don't exist. They don't.
The shouting isn't even that loud. It isn't any louder than the news reports he can just barely hear whenever they stop at red lights. Top UA Student Forced Out Of School In Handcuffs. What would Inko think? She barely wanted him outside the house as it was.
Maybe he wouldn't have to worry about that soon. Yes, they will prove his innocence before she can hear about it. Because surely they don't really think-
The car pulls up to the Tokyo police station, and Izuku realizes that they have been tailed by five other cop cars. One of the cars opens up to reveal Eraserhead, his homeroom teacher, on standby.
The voices have never been quieter.
***
The voices are loud. They are defeating and heinous. They are cruel and villainous.
But they are something society is not. Something society could never be.
Seventy-five hours. That is how long they held him there. It took the Musutafu branch seventy-five hours to figure out where to send Tsukauchi-Sama.
By then it was already far, far too late. Seventy-five hours.
To his credit, Tsukauchi was horrified when he had seen what they had done.
Later, on an interview with the Hīrōnyūsunettowāku, he'd describe it as the 'Cuelest sight I've ever seen'
Izuku lay, shivering on the ground. He was curled up into a little ball and his eyes were completely glazed over. Blood was splattered around the wall behind him and in a pool on the floor underneath him, and he seemed to be cationic.
After Tsukauchi entered the room, it took them less than three minutes to prove Izuku's innocence. The responses were mumbled and tired, as if he was repeating things on instinct. He probably was. Even he was unsure at that point.
The detective had been angry, Izuku remembered that. Maybe not at him, but he was angry. Izuku remembers hearing shouting from outside the room, but he couldn't muster the energy to ask to care. The throbbing pain from the wound down his side was enough to disorient him. He was hazy, confused, and weak. Surely this pain would stop soon. Surely there was an end to this.
He was let out of police custody immediately thereafter and quickly ushered into a car. He was still bleeding and he felt close to collapse. On instinct, he curled up into the corner of his seat. Tsukauchi-Sama remained beside him, seemingly... protecting him from someone? Izuku couldn't see who was on Tsukauchi-Sama's other side. Black hair and a capture weapon come into view for a second. Izuku pulls himself closer to the left side of the car.
He doesn't remember much after that. He remembers descending into a panic attack and being lifted out of the police car back at U.A, as well as being carried into the building. He remembers someone, most likely Tsukauchi-Sama (He'd reacted less-than-kindly to Eraserhead), making sure nobody rushed them. He remembers the look on Sero's face as he caught a glance at what was causing the ruckus.
And then he remembers waking up in the U.A infirmary.
There was shouting and arguing, he could hear Nedzu in there somewhere. Probably trying to avoid charges being pressed. By who Izuku would not know; Inko wouldn't bother.
The voices are loud, but the voices are honest.
***
The voices are quieter, now.
Not in volume. They are still there screaming in his ear, telling him everything he needs to know.
But there is less of an impact now.
Izuku looks at the pain medication in his hands, throat already dry.
He's been standing there and staring for two hours now.
He slides down the wall slowly.
With a shaking hand, the teenager opens the pill bottle and takes a small handful of the medication. He swallows them dry.
It hurts, but he's okay with that.
Slowly but surely, the process continues. It's two in the morning, barely three days after he awoke in U.A's medical ward. He's staying in the dorms until further notice; he's unsure whether or not they'll actually let him back into the school. He doesn't even want to. It hurts.
Before he knows it, the bottle in front of him is empty. His arms barely even lift.
Izuku is surprised at how fast the pills are working. Surely they would take more time? Maybe it was something to do with One For All...
Yes, that would make sense. He often has to eat an extra meal during the day to keep up with his quirks energy production; even when he is not using it, it boosts his physical performance.
He distantly wonders if he'll ever get his real math test score back.
Not that it really matters, he supposes.
The world is a blur in front of him. He barely manages to get the small slip of paper from his pocket and place it on his shoes in front of him.
I'll be quiet.