Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya had a bad feeling about today.

Not that that was saying much, he had a bad feeling about almost everyday. If he had to guess, he would say it was because something bad happened to him everyday. Whether it was a suspiciously low test grade his teachers refused to talk to him about, a notebook being destroyed beyond recognition, being hit harder than normal, or anything in between, it seemed Kacchan and his lackeys just couldn’t leave him alone.

So, despite the bad feeling, he still forced himself out of bed. After getting himself as ready for school as he could, he left his room to grab leftovers from last night for breakfast. He remembered when his mom used to do that for him. She used to do a lot of things for him, but that slowly stopped after his diagnosis. His mom had started taking on more work, he supposed it to get away from him, as he was mostly sure she hated him because she thought it was his fault his dad left. Afterall, his dad had left almost immediately after his diagnosis.

He still remembered their screams as they fought with each other after sending him to his room.

He finished the leftover meal and began the walk to his horrible school, and safely made it to his desk with nothing more than the usual attempts to trip him in the halls. Setting his bag between his legs in an attempt to prevent anyone from rifling through it to take and or destroy his things, he pulled out his notebook and started going over his notes from earlier that week while he mentally prepared for hell.

The peace didn’t last long of course, being interrupted by the usual angry blond.

“Oi, Deku!”

He grimaced. He didn’t want to deal with the bully’s shit today.

“Don’t ignore me! Look at someone when they talk to you, ya quirkless freak!” Kacchan yelled, little explosions popping from his hands, just enough to not permanently damage the desk. Izuku kept his eyes on his notebook, knowing that no matter what he did he would still be punished for it after school. Fortunately, the bell rang, and Kacchan stomped back to his seat, looking like a toddler who had just been told “no”.

The teacher decided to ignore him today, and instead just began class. Small mercies.

He allowed himself to zone out, not particularly caring about what was being taught. He used to like school, but over the years he just stopped caring about a lot of things. The school day was passing by in a blurr until Izuku was jerked out of the haze by his teacher.

“Hey Midoriya, weren’t you also planning on trying out for UA?”

Izuku’s eyes snapped up and darted around the class, feeling panic begin to set in as his classmates began to snicker and mock him. So this was what that bad feeling was for, he thought. The teacher's bullying in this school was almost as bad as the students, as it often gave his peers more reasons to abuse him.

“HAHA?! Shitty Deku thinks he’s better than me?” Kacchan sneered.

Izuku shrank in on himself on instinct, and tried to ignore the way his heart was beating out of his chest, thoughts of he’s gonna hurt me, he’s gonna hurt me he’s gonna hurt me he’s gonna hurt me running through his head. He did his best to ignore Kacchan’s taunts, knowing if he showed any reaction they would only beat him worse after school ended.

Eventually, the teacher got impatient with the time it was taking to resume the lesson, and started back up again. He zoned out for the rest of the day, and jumped in his seat when the bell rang. He immediately started packing his things away, but clearly not fast enough, as Kacchan quickly snatched his notebook away, burning it with small popping explosions.

“Still think you can be a hero, do ya, Deku?! Well, we’ll just have to keep working at beating that idea out of you ha,” Kacchan screamed at him, tossing his notebook out the window. Izuku could only stare in horror as months of hard work literally flew out the window.

“You know, Deku, if you really want a quirk so bad,” Kacchan paused for a moment, undoubtedly for extra bitchiness effect, before continuing, “why don’t you just take a swan dive off the roof and pray for one in the next life.” Kacchan’s lackeys snickered, adding their own agreeing words, before the group stomped off.

Izuku waited until he was sure they were long gone, before quickly running out to where he was pretty sure his notebook had landed. He nearly broke down when he saw it floating like fish food in the koi pond, but instead quickly grabbed it, hoping it was salvageable.

He wrung out as much water as he could, and then flipped through the pages. He was surprised to realize most of it was still salvageable, though there were a few parts to waterlogged or burned to read. He quickly tucked it in his backpack, and started walking home, thankful everyone had already gone home.

As he walked, he thought of all the times spider lilies had been left on his desk, or the people who had told him he’d be better off dead. Somehow Kacchan saying it hurt worse. Maybe it was because he finally had to accept that his childhood friend hated him. What would you do if I actually killed myself, Kacchan? Would you be happy? But no–, he couldn’t do that, his mom would be so sad.

Just as he was walking through a tunnel, he was jerked away from his thoughts –stupid, I should have been paying attention–

“Oh, you’ll make the perfect skinsuit!”

And then he couldn’t breathe. He gasped in shock –a mistake– and felt something slimy slithering down his throat. He clawed at it, but it did nothing. He glanced around frantically, desperate for any way out, but saw nothing.

“Stop struggling, this’ll be over faster if you just give in,” the villain suggested.

Izuku’s vision was beginning to fade. I think I’m dying. But– is that so bad? He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe everyone would be better off without him. Surely– surely his mother would get over him. Once she got over the initial shock, she might even be glad he was gone. So yeah, maybe this won’t be so bad.

Just as he was losing consciousness and accepting death, he vaguely heard a loud crash, and then, “I AM HERE!” and then Izuku blacked out.

____________________________________

Izuku watched the hero leap away in a daze. Of course, he couldn’t say what All Might had said was surprising, but it still hurt. It didn’t matter how used to it he was, his favorite hero saying somehow just hurt more. He realized he was crying until he saw wet spots on the concrete of the roof. Stupid, useless Deku, he thought, willing himself to stop crying. It had always been like this, he didn’t know what he was thinking even asking All Might.

He forced himself to stand, knowing he had to find a way off the roof and get home before his mom got too worried. He glanced around, noticing a door that presumably led inside the building. After a quick check, he discovered that it was unlocked, and went inside. The building seemed empty, but he was still careful, and with years of experience sneaking away from bullies, made it out of the building without being spotted by even a security camera.

He started walking home, still wanting to collapse to ground sobbing, but forcing himself to hold it in. He forgot about his tears when he heard explosions, and the chatter of a crowd. He ran forward, wondering if it was a hero fight, but slowed down and started walking as the realization hit that he just. Didn’t care anymore?

He still walked over, and wormed his way through the crowd, gasping at what he saw. The villain appeared to be made of sludge, and had taken what appeared to be a kid, maybe around the same age as him. He looked around, noticing a few heroes. Why weren’t they doing anything?! He thought, glancing around more frantically. He realized he must have voiced his thoughts aloud when he heard someone repeat his question.

“Hey, that kid’s right! What are the heroes doing? That child’s in danger!”

There were murmured agreements through the crowd, and he realized there were people holding phones, filming, and asking why the heroes weren’t helping. He was so busy looking at the crowd, he didn’t see the face of the kid who was the sludge villain had taken.

He frowned, glancing around, and noticed the person next to him had a phone. Why aren’t the heroes doing anything? We’re civilians, we don’t have the skill sets to help, but those are heroes! So why aren’t they helping? Maybe because they’re quirks aren’t suited for it? But I’m only a middle schooler, and I can see so many ways they could save that kid!

He knew he was probably mumbling, a habit he really needed to break, but he was so shocked by the pro heroes not saving a child, that he couldn’t really care. He’d love to believe that the heroes were in the right, but he just knew they weren’t.

Instead of sticking around to see what happened, or even who the kid trapped with the villain was, he rushed home, feeling sick to his stomach. His mom wouldn’t be home yet, she was working late, so he just rushed to his room, throwing off his shoes and backpack and falling face first onto his bed, without even glancing around his room.

Then the thoughts of the day came, and all he could think about was how the heroes didn’t do anything to save that kid. If they didn’t save one kid, was anyone safe?

After all, if the heroes who were supposed to be keeping the public safe weren’t, then were civilians really safe? Suddenly he realized how much money the heroes who were involved in flashy fights made.

What if… the heroes didn’t care about protecting the public, and only about their own fame and wealth?

Then he blacked out, exhausted from the day.

Chapter Text

Izuku woke up exhausted, but forced himself out of bed anyway. Glancing groggily out the window, he realized it was dark. How long did I sleep? He walked to his backpack, pulling out his phone to check the time. 12:23 am. Doing quick mental math, he realized he had slept for over 7 hours, if he accounted for everything that had happened that day.

His mom must have assumed he ate already and had a long day, which would be why she didn’t wake him up when she got home. He sighed. There was no way he would be able to fall back asleep right now, so he may as well get homework done or something. Flicking on his lights, he closed his eyes so as not to hurt them by the sudden change of lighting. When he opened them, he looked around his room, and suddenly felt a little nauseous, though he didn’t realize why at first.

The once comforting face of the number 1 hero used to make him feel safe, but after the situation earlier, he couldn’t stand it. For a moment he wondered why, until he remembered the way All Might had handled an unconscious civilian. He had slapped him on the face until he woke up. That was absolutely not how you dealt with a kid who had just gone through a traumatic experience.

Unable to stand it any longer, he almost ripped the posters off the wall, before remembering he could sell those. After that revelation, he carefully pulled them off the wall, then rolled them up and placed them in the back of his closet. Same with the action figures, and various other merchandise scattered around. The harder parts were the things like his curtains, or bedspread.

Eventually he found a plain light blue bedspread, and dark green blackout curtains. Quickly replacing them, he shoved the rest of his All Might merch in the back of his closet. He was about to go and at least try to do his homework when he noticed he was still in his school uniform.

He quickly removed it, then went to his bathroom to bandage the burn Kacchan gave him. The cloth stuck uncomfortably to his skin, and he barely resisted screaming when he finally gave up being gentle and just ripped it off. After cleaning the burn and bandaging it, he ran silently back to his room (constantly avoiding people trying to hurt you since age four helps with this), and discovered a whole new problem.

All his clothes.

All of them.

It was all hero merch. He nearly broke down there, but knowing it would just be worse later if he didn’t do something now, he managed to power through. Wracking his brain, he tried to remember if he owned literally any clothing that wasn’t merch of some hero. Maybe he had something of an underground hero? Quickly looking through his clothes, he discovered a Ms. Joke hoodie, and (thankfully) regular black sweatpants. Thanking every deity he could think of that he only owned normal socks and underwear, he quickly got dressed.

While he was thankful that his shoes weren’t hero merch, they were unfortunately something arguably much worse. Or at least, they marked him as something much worse. The stupid shoes were the only brand that fit the feet of quirkless people, and were unbelievably overpriced. He should probably dye them, he really didn’t like that he got marked as someone to look down upon just because his shoes were a bright red beacon of “look, I’m helpless and can’t fight back!”

He made a mental note to buy black dye at the store.

Slipping on his shoes, he grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, slipping silently out the door and locking it behind him. He made his way through the apartment, careful not to wake anyone up. The moment he was outside, he disappeared into the shadows, careful not to be noticed. The less people he interacted with out here, the better.

He was in multiple servers and forums for people with no quirks, “villain quirks”, and people with mutations from their quirks. Basically anyone who was shunned because of something to do with their quirk was welcome. There were lists that were constantly updated inside, marking safe places, heroes, things like that.

It was how he knew the particular store he was going to was safe for people like him.

It was one of those stores that had just about everything you could think of, which was amazing, but what was even better was that the manager and all of the workers were not quirkest. Izuku wasn’t entirely sure how the community had gotten so lucky, but he wasn’t about to question it.

Now, despite having been there before, and having it be marked safe by many in his community, he was naturally still cautious. Sue him. (or don’t, he really doesn’t have the money for that.)

Glancing up from the shadow beneath a tree, he finally saw the sign. He quickly pulled up his hood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked inside. Thankfully, there was no sort of bell on the door to mark his entry, but the cashier still looked up. The guy, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Izuku himself, smiled tiredly and waved.

“Hi. Is there anything I can do for you, or are you just looking around?”

“Uhh…” Izuku, though he probably did need help, was far too shy to ask for it, and so he simply smiled sheepishly, and continued with a “no, that’s alright.”

The cashier nodded, “Of course. Feel free to let me know if you change your mind though,” and went back to doing what looked like a crossword puzzle.

Nodding and tugging his hood lower, Izuku moved towards the back of the store to begin his search.

Chapter Text

Thank God for stores that had literally everything, honestly. Izuku was rather thrilled with his new clothes, small bag of snacks, and black tie dye. Checking out had been an awkward experience, (at least for him, the socially awkward mess he is, though the cashier seemed far too bored to care) but he had managed.

Now he just had to slip back into the shadows, and disappear.

That was the plan.

The plan did not work.

He had managed to make it out of the store without any trouble, but as he was walking past an alleyway, he felt someone grab his arm. They had large hands, and what felt like more than 5 fingers, which was all he realized before he was viciously yanked into the alley.

He pointedly did not scream, (when you scream enough and no one helps you you eventually realize it’s pointless,) but he did have a reflexive reaction built from years of bullying. He curled into himself, trying his best to protect his vital organs.

Another hand grabbed his shoulder, and Izuku flinched. Please don’t see my shoes, please don’t see the damn shoes.

His back hit the wall hard, and he felt the cool blade of a knife pressed into his neck. Fuck. This was so, so, so bad. He looked up at the man’s face, and immediately noticed that he had some sort of mutation.

He had small scales all over his face, and instead of a nose, there were just holes for his nostrils. His eyes were yellow, with slit pupils. Looking closer, Izuku realized he had gills on his neck. That was so interesting! If the gills worked, he could potentially live underwater. Did he? He did look kind of wet. What kind of side effects would that leave this guy with? Did he–

“Hey! What the fuck are you mumbling about?”

Oh shit.

“I-I-I’m s-so sorry, sir, I j-just–”

He sneered, “I don’t give a fuck! Mumbling is disrespectful, didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

“I- she did s-sir, please, I d-didn’t m-m-mean it, I swear–”

“Shut the Hell up, ya lil shit! I didn’t grab ya to talk. Gimme whatever the Hell’s in those bags, and maybe I won’t slit yer damn throat!”

I really cannot afford to give him my stuff, Izuku thought, I spent the last of my money on this, and I do not want to wear All Might merch for the rest of my life.

“Well punk!? What are you waiting for? I can slit your throat any time I want!”

“I-I-I-,” Izuku stuttered, get a grip, godammit!

He felt the knife press into his throat harder, breaking skin. He winced in pain letting out a shocked gasp.

“Well, kid? I told you I'd slit your throat! Now gimme your bags or I really will kill you!”

He’ll really kill me. Holy shit.

Izuku handed over his bags, his hands trembling.

“That’s what I fucking thought, you useless piece of shit,” the man sneered.

Izuku didn’t know how the man came up with the “useless” remark. He didn’t know how the man came to the same conclusion everyone else had come to, even within only five minutes of meeting him.

It didn’t matter, though.

All that mattered was how angry he felt at being called useless for the thousandth time. It was like all the anger from every previous insult and abuse that he had been repressing for the past ten years was all suddenly there. He wasn’t blinded by his rage, though. Instead everything came into focus.

The man had put away the knife and was walking away from him, with his back turned.

Mistake.

Izuku lunged, landing on the man’s back, and digging his fingers into his gills.

The first thing he noticed was that they kinda felt like sandpaper.

The second thing he noticed was the wall of the building behind him as sharkboy slammed him into it. He gasped for breath while being crushed between the man and the rough concrete of the alley wall, feeling like his rib cage was creaking with the effort. He had reflexively relaxed his fingers from the gills after the impact, but upon realizing this quickly dug them back in, attempting to rip them out.

Sharkboy screamed in pain, jerking away from Izuku, giving him much needed breathing room. Izuku felt something warm and wet trickling from his fingers and dripping down his arms.

The something was blood.

Damn, no wonder mr sharky boy here started screaming. If blood started pouring from where I breath I’d scream too.

Sharkboy then began to gargle his blood like fucking mouthwash, which was kinda gross but also kinda silly. Izuku dug his fingers in a little harder and yanked. This happened to be a bad decision, because the chunks of flesh that he managed to tear out were out, meaning that so were his hands. Meaning he completely lost his balance and fell off of the dude, his back hitting the ground hard as the impact jarred some of the gunk and bodily fluids off his hands and onto his face.

Ew.

He jerked up and scrabbled away, back hitting the alley wall again, and looked at the would-be thief just in time to see him bringing a hand to his gills and attempting to stem the flow of blood and he fell to his knees. If Izuku had to take a wild guess, he’d say the poor fucker was struggling to breath.

Glancing around quickly, Izuku spotted the knife sharkboy had dropped during the altercation. He practically ran for it, snatching it up by the hilt and turning to face sharkboy. He was still holding his hands to his neck, trying to stem the bleeding to no avail.

With a surprising amount of giddiness for a 14 year old, Izuku skipped over the guy and decided to put him out of his misery. He slammed the blade of the knife through sharkboy’s skull with all the might in his thin arms.

He felt blood and brain matter splatter against his arms, face, and torso, reminding him of something he had read a long time ago that said head wounds bled a LOT.

Okay, that was kinda icky.