Chapter Text
Prelude
"You're quirkless, Izuku. I'm sorry."
Those five words made up the majority of his earliest memory. He didn't really know much, other than the fact that his mother had been crying, yet her green eyes were as hard as steel. He remembered her wrapping him up in a tight hug and apologizing over and over and over. Within two hours, everyone knew. From their friends, to their family, to the school.
He may not remember that day well, but he certainly knew the consequences by heart. Quirkless people are fragile. Quirkless people are useless. Quirkless people are deformed. Quirkless people are unevolved. Quirkless people have to listen to their mothers because no one else would have their best interests at heart. Quirkless people should never talk in public, because then, everyone would know how stupid he was. Quirkless people should never look a quirked person in the eyes unless they wanted to be hurt.
Lessons that life made him learn became habit after a while. Sure, it made the other kids look down on him, but it wasn't the end of the world. Its not like they weren't going to look down on him anyway, especially not once they knew what he was. Sometimes, he wanted to scream, scream until his throat bled like his body often did. It wasn't fair, he knew it, even if he didn't want to say anything. He knew he shouldn't expect to be hurt at least three times every single day, knew he shouldn't expect to be starved for another few days. He knew that anyone else would have someone, anyone, defending them. But, he didn't. Even heroes looked away when he needed them. He had no one.
Quirkless people had to be mild mannered to survive. Any hint of a temper, or anything else in his eyes led to him being hurt worse. None of his true temper could show. Ever. He couldn't feel anything without risking an even worse punishment, but that was alright to the rest of the world. He was quirkless after all.
He'd thought that being quirkless was a disease when he was really small, something that could spread to the people around him. Like the flu. But, he'd learned better by now. If he could spread quirklessness around, his whole class, plus his mom, would be quirkless too. No, instead, it was something that his blood decided.
He tried to look it up, to understand, but it was hard. His mom loved him so much, and wanted to keep him safe. Finding out more would be dangerous she said, it would just hurt him. His teachers thought he was just too stupid to understand, but he tried.
Today had been a bad day, he was in his first year elementary class, and his shoulders were raised almost all the way to his ears in hopes of blocking out some of the cruel words from his teacher. Fujioka- sensei was teaching, but he didn't like what he was saying.
They were supposed to be comparing animals to humans, easy enough. Except one his classmates had asked if Izuku counted as a human or not, drawing attention from his teacher. According to Fujioka-sensei, quirkless people were lesser than animals, because at least animals rarely had quirks. He was something called an obsolete or a relic, which meant he had no purpose, something that even animals had.
It wasn't fair! He had barely spoken two sentences to Fujioka-sensei all semester! He knew she was just being mean like most people were when they heard about his quirklessness. But saying animals had a purpose, but quirkless people didn't was enough to make tears well up in his emerald green eyes.
He didn't want to cry, everyone already called him a crybaby, and he knew showing his frustration wouldn't do anything. Normally, he'd be able to push his sadness away, and move on, but today he couldn't.
He didn't know why his tummy was burning with anger so thick it felt like it would explode. He couldn't explain why it made him so mad, or why he sat seething through his teary eyes, but he was.
So what if he didn't have a purpose? He was there, and he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. He was smart, and creative, and well mannered, and polite, and quicker than any of his classmates! If he didn't have a purpose, than he'd make himself one!
His classmates were laughing at him again, and Fujioka-sensei was rolling her eyes at him again. He sunk further down in his seat, biting hard on his tongue to keep himself quiet. He wanted them to go away.
Fujioka-sensei walked by his desk, accidentally using her quirk to turn the page on his book, cutting his hand in the process. It was a cool quirk, but he though most of them were cool, it was called page turner, which meant she could turn the pages of anything paper without touching it. She had long white hair, with the occasional scrap of paper in it, which was a mutation, not a part of her quirk, and pure black eyes that looked like ink. He'd always liked paper, always liked writing in his notebooks, but thanks to Fujioka-sensei, it was getting more and more difficult to keep up the hobby.
He stared down blankly for a moment, looking at the blood. It wasn't the first time sensei had used her quirk to hurt him, but this time felt different. Most of the time, when she used her quirk, he had done something, like looking up or muttering, but this time, this time, he hadn't done anything!
He hated her.
He hated his classmates.
He hated the kids who had been his friends years ago, Tsubasa-kun, Koyanagi-kun, and Kachan, no, Bakugou-kun.
None of them helped him.
None of them ever stood up for him.
None of them were really his friends, no matter how much he thought they were.
Maybe they had really been friends when they were little, but they had proved to him that they weren't anymore. They hadn't acted like his friends since he'd come back after that horrible doctors appointment. Because real friends wouldn't use their quirks, or words, or actions, to hurt him. That wasn't what heroes did, and Bakugou wanted to be a hero, so why didn't he act like it?
Bitterness burned down his throat, down his shoulders, to the tips of his fingers and toes. He didn't deserve this because of something he couldn't help! He was just as human as they were, he bled the same as they did. None of them had quirks when they were younger, except the mutant ones, and no one was mean to them! No one was cruel to Bakugou before he could use Explosion. So why was he different? Just because he didn't get a quirk? He was still the same kid most of them had always known, he hadn't suddenly become different. So why?
Why did they think they could treat him like trash? Why did they want to hurt him? Why did no one stop them? Why wasn't he worthy to be saved? Why wasn't he allowed to exist without being hurt? Why had they decided he wasn't worth it? Why did everyone hate him? Why?
Why?
WHY?
W
H
Y
Something snapped inside him, making his bleeding hand clutch his chest as something seemed to burn him. Something licked at him, a soothing warmth that was trying to comfort him.
The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a buble of fire, and could hear the other kids in the classroom screaming. He could smell his desk burning, see the flames crawling up it until they danced beautifully in front of his eyes.
His eyes, which were glowing a poisonous yellow, proved that his quirk had finally activated. Not that he knew it, of course. He had no idea what was going on, panic and peace fought in his mind as he tried to understand. No one in his class had a fire quirk, not like this anyways. No, the closest they had to fire was Explosion, but for once, he didn't hurt as badly as he knew he should. The peace was a weird feeling, but it was even more strange when he heard the whispers in his mind about being safe. Finally safe. Exhaustion and pain took over, leaving his eyes to fade back to their normal emerald color, as they rolled back in his head.