Chapter Text
Baring his teeth and clenching his fists, he stood on top of a building. He felt warm, hot, as the hatred filled his body, leaving nothing, but deep fury. He stared at his shoes, those ugly while-soled sneakers, and tried to quell his tears.
It didn’t work, the bubbling emotions became too much and frustrated tears rolled down his freckled cheeks. He cried silently, alone with nothing but his thoughts and a scorched notebook at his feet.
Emotions he tried so hard to suppress over the years left him feeling bone-deep resentment. Resentment induced by his childhood best friend, his own mother, and now, his hero.
He surely wasn’t about to unpack it all now, and maybe not even later. He didn’t know what to do with all that feeling, all that hatred. For now, he just sat himself down on the ledge and watched the city. As time went by, he got lost in his head.
He missed the fireworks behind him as a villain was breaking havoc. He missed as his classmate was held hostage, as a villain tried to take over his body. He missed the time he went unconscious and the heroes thought they lost him. He missed the rescue when All Might saved the boy and captured the villain.
It was sunset when he finally came to and started thinking clearly again.
The hatred he felt earlier subsided, but it was there, as always. It never really left, not for good. Just like when he was younger, he needed an outlet. Expect, this is much bigger, much more serious than playground bullies and silly nicknames.
Deku, they called him. Useless, worthless, broken, delusional. He hated being treated as less than a human being, just like gum under someone’s shoes —or a stepping stone, as Katsuki would often say–, as a subhuman.
As an animal.
He was already breaking, slowly crumbling under everyone’s words and opinions and actions, his new hand-shaped scar ached with pain under his singed gakuran. It only made him remember his old friend’s words.
Pray for a quirk in your next life, and take a-
No, he’s not going to think about it. Not now. He needed an outlet. What does he usually do when he feels angry?
He couldn’t think of anything.
( Izuku first felt anger when his best friend called him Deku after his diagnosis. His fifth birthday, the day he had been declared quirkless.
It was his mom’s idea to go see a quirk specialist after all his peers already got their quirks, see why his hasn’t manifested yet. It was supposed to be a birthday gift. The visit ended in disappointment.
He punched Katsuki in the face. And he was happy afterward, relieved. Of course, Mitsuki had a few words to say about him, how aggressive Inko’s son is, but they talked it out.
Later that day, his mom sat him down and gave him a talk. He shouldn’t hurt others. He shouldn’t let his diagnosis affect his mood. He shouldn’t let himself be angry, because being angry doesn’t solve anything. Smile instead, laugh instead, be happy.
Izuku took the words to heart and went on with his life without feeling an ounce of anger. At least, that was how it looked on the outside. )
He couldn’t think of any good coping mechanism, any good way to release his anger.
Izuku used apathy to cover his anger. Whenever Hanabate wrote some slurs on his desk, he took a deep breath and simply washed it clean. The times Tsubasa made him trip, he got up, rounded the corner, and bit his thumb. The pain grounded him, helped him to not get lost in his head, in his emotions. Helped by making a wall between himself and his feelings.
God, was he really broken? He laughed – still on the rooftop, he didn’t take a step for minutes as he drowned in memories – and snatched the notebook off the ground.
With as much power as he could muster up, he threw the notebook off the ledge. He didn’t look after it but turned and walked towards the door, then the stairs.
He had enough. Enough fake smiles and laughs. He wanted to stop bandaging his wounds as soon as he got home.
He wanted the fire to stop tormenting his dreams. He wanted those crimson eyes to stop looking at him.
He had enough. They broke him, his mother broke him, his classmates broke him, his hero pushed him to the edge. How ironic…
Maybe, it was time for Izuku to finally pay back the years of damage. It was time for him to be a hero in a different way.
It was a hero’s job to get rid of the villains, wasn’t it?
…
Yuuga always hated his quirk, ever since getting it.
He hated standing out and being the odd one. Actually, that would almost be an almost lie. He didn’t, he just wished they wouldn’t look at him with that gaze. Being the weak and quirkless kid was like a death sentence in their society, or so his father said.
Therefore he is grateful for his parents’ sacrifice, of course, but he sometimes wishes the quirk he was gifted with would be less self-destructive.
He likes the laser and the gleam alright, he always had a thing for sparkles, but nausea, that he hates. It’s not only when he overuses his quirk, or even when he simply uses it. No, it’s a constant, and he hates how he has to take a pill every morning to keep it in check. He hates how the quirk doesn’t fit him, and he swears he feels like it refuses to cooperate.
But Yuuga has to be a hero now. With his broken quirk.
He doesn’t say he minds the choice of career, but he would rather be a fashion designer or a model. Heroics is just a bit too messy and violent for his tastes.
But he has to be a hero.
He must be a hero, or, well, get into the hero course of U.A. So he studies day and night, and actually asks a quirk counselor for help. If he doesn’t get in…
( “I-... I’m so sorry, Yuuga. I’m sorry…”
Yuuga didn’t understand. He looked at his mother and he noticed the tears that left her violet eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but she cried harder. The already crumpled paper in her grasp made a noise, and Yuuga looked at what her mother was holding. He eased it out of her grasp and saw a letter.
‘ Aoyama Yuuga must get into the hero course of U.A. Should he not make it in, the consequences will be great.
- Sensei ’
And Yuuga understood.
He heard from his mother and father about the man they made a deal with, about a devil capable of gifting a quirk for the quirkless and strapping it away from the quirked. He saw with his very eyes those consequences. He knew it wasn't an offer, nor a suggestion.
It was an order, and he had to obey.
So he held his mother closer, who sobbed into his shoulder, and hugged her tightly. Reassuring words left his mouth, although he himself didn't believe them. But he was a man on a mission, a mission that has already started. )
He would be satisfied with general education too, honestly. More than satisfied, really. U.A. is for the best of the best, it’s said to be the number one hero school in Japan. Getting into the school requires a lot of smarts, and keeping up with the curriculum is said to be hell. But there is no place for anxiety. He doesn’t have time for anxiety, he must get into the hero course.
He must.