Chapter Text
The sharp sting of the morning sun pressed against Izuku’s eyelids, an aching reminder that he had to get up. He blinked himself awake and slowly scanned the room. Everything sat exactly where he’d left it when he went to bed, he liked that fact, after all the boy didn’t like change.
He sat up stretching turning to look at his calendar. It was Friday. Thank god.
With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself out of his All Might–print sheets and dragged himself toward his bathroom. The mirror greeted him with the harsh aftermath of last night’s crying. With a groan he splashed cold water on his face, grabbing his brush to comb out his knotted green curls.He slipped into his uniform and walked to the door, grabbing his bag only to pause as a familiar voice coughed out a little ‘ahem’.
“Now where do you think you’re going, young man?” Inko asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
Izuku laughed sheepishly and turned to face her, the corners of his mouth lifting at her unimpressed expression. He walked over and wrapped her in a tight bear hug, and she immediately dissolved into soft laughter hugging him back. If Izuku had one reason to keep going, it was her. His mom was his favorite person in the world. She was probably the only one who could confidently say she cared about hiim.
He kept the conversation brief, partly because he didn’t want to be late, but mostly to avoid her gentle prodding. She kept glancing at the dark circles beneath his eyes with a sappy face.
“Sweetie, you know you can talk to me, right?”
To be general he didn’t have the energy to talk about it. So he slipped toward the door, calling a half-hearted “Love you!” as he stepped outside and shut it behind him.
She pities you. How could she not pity a kid as useless as you?
Izuku drew in a deep breath and let his eyes fall shut. The voice wasn’t new. Some part of him had always carried that cruel whisper, it was practically etched into his brain at this point. The words hit their marks every time. He’d long passed the point of pretending that hearing a voice like that was normal, but acknowledging it felt even worse. Burdening someone with the truth of his deteriorating mind? No. Absolutely not. So he did what he always did: he shoved the thoughts down. He opened his eyes, and told himself he was fine.
Because he was fine. He always was. Fine.
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The school bell rang, and Izuku jolted upright in his seat. He quickly gathered his things and slipped into the rush of students flooding the hall, weaving through the tightly packed bodies until he reached the stairwell leading to the rooftop—the one place he could be left alone.
Or rather, the one place he wouldn’t bother looking.
He slipped into the stairwell unnoticed. After all no one ever paid attention to the quirkless kid, the boy who blended into the walls of their middle school. He hurried up the steps and pushed open the rooftop door, settling on the concrete floor with his back against the railing.
Izuku dug through his backpack to pull out his hero notebook and a brightly colored pen, flipping to a fresh page. Sketching possible hero suits, hero names, strategies. Despite the cards he was dealt, all he’d ever wanted was to become someone a kid like him could look up to. A pro hero.
For the thirty minutes of lunch he could escape. For thirty minutes, he could be a hero. God, wouldn’t that be—
A sharp kick slammed into his side, cutting the thought clean in half. He crumpled forward, clutching his stomach as harsh laughter echoed above him.
“Finally fucking found you, nerd. Hiding on the rooftop? You’re even more of a coward than I give you credit for.” Katsuki snarled, anger twisting his face the way it always did. His little gang stood behind him, each wearing the same look of disgust. He felt like an alien, less than human.
Izuku forced himself to stay steady, swallowing down the fear as he pushed himself upright with a shaky grunt.
“H-hey… Kacchan…” he mumbles. Katsuki’s scowl deepened at the sound of the old nickname, like the word itself offended him.
Katsuki’s scowl drifted downward, landing on the notebook clutched in Izuku’s hand. Instinctively, Izuku tightened his grip. It didn’t matter. Katsuki’s fingers were already closed around the front cover, yanking hard. Izuku held on tightly, silently begging to be left alone. But he knew better. Katsuki never knew when to stop.
A manic grin split across Katsuki’s face. “Ooh, is that your way of standing up for yourself? Huh… Deku?” His buddies snickered behind him.
Before Izuku could react, Katsuki’s free hand clamped over his face and shoved—hard. Izuku’s head cracked against the metal railing, a burst of pain exploding behind his eyes. The world blurred, sound dipping in and out as dizziness took over his body. His fingers loosened around the notebook, and Katsuki ripped it away.
“W-wait… please,” he quaked, the words desperate. His vision slowly cleared just enough to see Katsuki flipping through the pages of his notebook. Laughter rose from him first, to which the others joined in.
Izuku clenched his teeth. He was used to this—used to being the school’s rag doll, used to Katsuki tormenting him whenever he felt like it. And to everyone else, it didn’t matter. Izuku had no quirk. Katsuki had a powerful one. In this stupid school, that alone justified everything. It meant Katsuki had every right to hurt him. A mere tortuous reminder of his place.
His vision wavered at the edges, heat rising in his chest, a rage that clawed at him from the inside, begging to be released. But he wouldn’t let it out. He couldn’t.
“You? A fucking hero? Real funny. You kinda need a good quirk for that—oh wait. That’s right. You don’t have one.” Katsuki’s voice dripped venom. When he noticed Izuku spacing out, he sneered and lifted his hand, sparks crackling to life in his palm.
Izuku snapped back to reality just in time to react. He threw his arms up and turned his head away an instant before the explosion hit. A burning shock tore across his forearms, searing the skin. He’d been burned by Katsuki before, more times than he could count, but this was different. This wasn’t just a sting or a blister. This time he felt it under his skin, running hot through his veins. He could smell it, the faint, sickening scent of scorched flesh.
A weak cry escaped him before he could swallow it down. For a moment Katsuki’s eyes flickered. Something almost like worry cut through the anger.
But it vanished as quickly as it came, he jerked his hand back and forced his face into rage.
You deserve this. You’ll never be anything. You should be thanking him.
Izuku bit down hard on his tongue, forcing the voices back into wherever the hell they came from. He didn’t needed them. God, he didn’t need them now.
He glanced down at his forearms and grimaced at the sight. The burns weren’t wide, but they were deep, bubbly. His stomach churned, nausea threatening to rise. Before he could calm down, a sharp tearing sound snapped his attention upward.
His notebook, his favorite thing, was ripped clean in half.
Izuku’s eyes went wide, tears swelling up. He loved that notebook more than almost anything. It was proof that maybe, someday, he could become someone. Anyone. Katsuki scorched the torn edges with a flare of sparks, and Izuku scrambled forward on instinct, snatching the ripped pages from his hands and blowing out the flames with shaky breaths.
To his surprise, Katsuki didn’t try to take it back. He just scoffed, stepped closer, and fisted a hand in Izuku’s hair—yanking his head up until their eyes locked.
“You’re pathetic. You wanna be a hero so bad? I’ve got a time-saving idea for you.” Katsuki leaned in, voice low and dripping amusement. “If you think you’ll get a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof.”
Izuku went still.
Katsuki was always cruel but this was new. Telling him to jump? Telling him to kill himself? Thoughts intruded in before he could block them.
Maybe then he’d get charged with bulling him into suicide. Maybe then someone would finally see how wrong this is—
No.
No, stop it.
Calm down.
He dragged in a shaky breath, forcing himself to focus. Keep it together, Izuku. Breathe. Just breathe.
With that, Katsuki shoved him back and stood upright, grinning like he’d just won a fucking award. Izuku felt a sudden, violent urge rise in his chest, god he’d love to rip that smirk straight off his face and watch as blood pools down in thick, dark clu—
He blinked hard, the thought practically snapping out of existence.
Where did that even come from…?
Only then did he realize he was alone again. The group had already left, no doubt heading inside now that lunch was nearly over. He had two more classes today. Yeah. No. Not happening.
He pushed himself to his feet, picking up the scattered scraps of his notebook, tucking them into his backpack before heading down the stairwell. The moment he stepped outside the school gates he felt guilty. He hated skipping. Even if the students tormented him, he still liked the classes.
Izuku stopped by a convenience store to pick up a small medkit, heading straight for the self-checkout so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He quietly slipped outside to the alley beside the building, sinking down against the wall.
He rolled up his sleeves setting the supplies down beside him. Exhaling deeply before treating the burns. Which definitely wasn’t a fun experience. Even the lightest touch of the bandage sent pain flaring up his veins. But at last he clenched his jaw and worked through it, forcing himself not to shake too much. Eventually, he managed to wrap the wounds. The bandages weren’t perfect, slightly uneven, and a little loose at the edges. but they were good enough. Good enough to hide that is, the last thing he needed was his mom seeing.
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On his walk home, something flickered in the corner of his vision. He turned sharply, only to see a thick glob of sludge slipping out from a gutter. It didn’t take him long to realize it had to be someone’s quirk.
Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance.
The creature cursed under its breath when it noticed Izuku staring. “Eh, he’ll do,” it muttered.
The sludge lunged engulfing him in an instant. Slime forced its way into his mouth, choking the breath out of him. Izuku panicked trying to scream, only to gag on the suffocating mass invading his lungs.
That’s when it clicked, he recognized this villain from a news article.
A sludge creature with the ability to possess a host. Terror spiked through him. He clawed desperately at the monster, fingers sinking into the viscous mass.
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He must’ve blacked out, because when he opened his eyes, he was on pavement. His lungs dragged in air, something he won’t take advantage of again. He jolted upright, panting, eyes darting around for any trace of the sludge villain. Nothing.
A tap landed on his shoulder.
Izuku whipped around so fast his vision streaked. His heart stopped. He had to be dead. That was the only explanation. Because standing over him, was the Symbol of Peace himself.
All Might.
He looked exactly like the photos. Exactly like the action figures. Exactly like the poster in his room. Large, bright, smiling like he belonged on the cover of a cereal box. The sight was so striking Izuku couldn’t even acknowledge that he had just been used as a human scuba tank for a villain.
Izuku stared. For a long, long moment. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
All Might crouched down, hands on his knees. “Are you okay, young man? That was quite the scare!” Izuku’s soul nearly escaped his body. So dumbfounded he nearly fainted.
“A–All Might?!” Izuku squeaked, shooting to his feet so fast he nearly toppled over. His eyes were wide, and his jaw was unable to close. He had never been this speechless in his life, and that was saying something.
His gaze traveled up All Might’s towering frame, the suit, the muscles that looked carved out of rock, that huge, perfect grin. His hands started shaking so badly he had to curl them into fists.
“C–can you… I—um—book— I have—notebook—can—autograph?” The words tumbled out. Nothing even remotely resembling a full sentence.
All Might let out a booming laugh. It was so cartoonish. Izuku froze for half a heartbeat, and then, despite the tremble still in his bones, he cracked a smile. A real one.
“Why of course! I always have time for my fans!” All Might gave him a dramatic thumbs-up straightening back up. Up close, he felt even taller then the photos—five feet, maybe more, above Izuku.
Izuku scrambled through his backpack, hands trembling so hard the zipper slipped from his fingers. Finally he managed to pull out a crumpled sheet of notebook paper and a pen.
All Might took them with a grin, obviously noticing Izuku’s fan-boying. A few bold strokes later and the page was handed back.
Izuku beamed feeling happier than he’s ever felt in months. He carefully tucked the sheet back into his backpack. He already knew he’d frame it as soon as he got home, taking care of his wound and crying having to be pushed to second priority.
“Well, I should get this villain back to the station. Goodbye for now!”
All Might turns to leave, and Izuku’s stomach drops. He still has so many questions, but there’s one he can’t let slip away.
“Wait!” The word bursts out of him before he can think. All Might stops mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Sorry, kid, but I really have to—”
“Can I be a hero?!”
Izuku blurts it out, desperation cracking through his voice. His whole body trembles, praying to himself. All Might exhales slowly, and Izuku scrambles to fill the quiet.
“I don’t have a quirk,” he says, chest heaving, “but I want to be someone like you. Please… just tell me I can.”
Izuku stood there trembling, clutching the strap of his backpack. All Might’s eyes flicked to the bandages peeking out from under his sleeves, the fear on his face, the way he seemed starved for hope.
“Young man…” he began, voice softer, hesitant.
Izuku’s heart pounded so hard he worried he might throw up.
Please. Please say yes. Please don’t crush his dream. Please don’t be like everyone else—
All Might exhaled. “Being a hero… is dangerous. Even with a quirk. It’s a path filled with pain, sacrifice… and risk of death.”
Izuku’s fingernails dug into his palms. He knew all that. He lived all that. It ticked him off that the symbol of peace thought so little of him.
“I can handle it,” he blurted, eyes stinging with tears begging to fall. “I can. I’ll work ten times harder than anyone with a quirk. I-I’ll prove I can!”
The words spilled from him like vomit, years of swallowed dreams rushing out all at once. And behind them, fear. Because this was his only chance. His only moment. If All Might said no…
All Might was quiet and the longer that silence stretched the more Izuku felt like screaming. Until finally, All Might’s jaw tightened.
“…I’m sorry.”
Izuku could feel his walls of hope cracking deeper and deeper. “In this society,” All Might continued quietly, “a hero… a professional hero… needs a quirk. Without one, you would be putting yourself in terrible danger. You could get hurt. Or worse.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t shout. He just let the words cloud in. Izuku’s breath hitched to a stop. He stared at the ground, vision blurring.
“So…” His voice came out quiet. “It’s… impossible?” All Might didn’t answer immediately. But the silence was louder than anything.
Izuku always thought he’d grown immune to pain with how often it found its way into his life. But he was wrong, so incredibly wrong.
All Might apologized once more and left to deliver the villain to the station.
Izuku gathered his scattered things and wandered into a quiet alley, far from anyone who might hear him break. He expected to start sobbing the second he was alone, but instead his lips twisted into a sickening grin. He dropped to his knees, the rocky pavement biting into them as a snicker slipped out… then a chuckle, until he was laughing. Not happily. Not even close. It just felt right.
Tears streamed down his face as those laughs warped into something wrecked and unhinged. His hands shot up to his hair, yanking at the curls, grounding himself in the sharp sting because it was the only thing that made sense anymore.
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Izuku cried and laughed for what felt like hours, until his voice was raw and his eyes were dry. He felt disconnected, sick, and furious all at once. His thoughts weren’t just spiraling anymore, they were collapsing, and that cruel voice in his mind sat at the center of it all.
But something about it had changed. It wasn’t just calling him useless or worthless. It was screaming at him, urging him to do something awful. It reminded him of the violent impulse he had felt with Katsuki earlier that day, except this time it didn’t disappear. It roared louder, and the more his mind spiraled, the more he wanted to listen.
His eyes widened the moment he realized what he’d been thinking, and he slapped himself, hard. The voices faded, and the laughter died in his throat.
“F-fuck… that wasn’t… I shouldn’t… why would I—” he muttered, horrified at how little control he’d had over his own body, his own mind. He tried to think of his mom, the way she always settled his nerves, reminding him he was still okay. After all he still had her.
His mom.
Shit.
He glanced at his watch. 8:00 p.m.
How had he stayed out this long?
She must be worried sick.
Izuku scrambled to his feet and sprinted out of the alley.
He ran down the streets, but something felt wrong. A smoky scent drifted through the air. It was faint at first, then grew thicker the closer he got to his apartment complex. He didn’t think much of it until he finally looked up.
Smoke rose from a building in the direction of his home.
His panic snapped into place instantly. He ran harder, shoving past people, lungs burning as he approached the scene. Police cars and firetrucks lined the street, confirming the worst. His heart dropped.
Izuku stumbled into the crowd gathered outside, neighbors crying softly as they watched their homes rise in flames. He scanned every face, desperate, searching for the only person who mattered. He fought to keep his emotions contained, but they were slipping through his fingers.
After searching the crowd for several frantic minutes, he couldn’t wait any longer. Panic overrode reason. He turned toward the fire and, made the most irrational decision of his life.
He bolted straight for the burning entrance, sucking in one deep breath before diving inside, ignoring the horrified shrieks of his neighbors. Heat crashed into him immediately. He pushed through it, dodging falling debris and leaping over burning sections of the floor as he raced upstairs toward his apartment.
Breathing was nearly impossible but he didn’t care. His body moved on autopilot, driven by something primal and desperate.
He stumbled into the hallway, barely avoiding a collapsing door, and burst into the apartment. Flames were up the walls. Smoke blurred everything into shapes and shadows.
And then he saw it.
He froze at the sight of his mother—her skin burned, her body lifeless on the scorched floor. Every emotion inside him collided at once, jagged and violent, until his mind simply… shut down. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t even breathe.
The fire closed in, heat curling around him seconds from taking him when strong arms suddenly yanked him backward. Pro hero Manuel dragged him through the flames, using bursts of his water quirk to carve a safe path as he pulled them both out of the collapsing building.
Firefighters and paramedics crowd around him. That’s when something inside Izuku cracks. After so long of holding it in the anger collapses in. The grief doesn’t hit him first—rage does. A boiling fury at the world, at quirks, at heroes who weren’t there in time. The same dark voice from earlier whispers again, louder now, fed by loss and pain. His vision begins to tint red.
He barely registered Manuel stepping in front of him, gently pushing the crowd back to give him space. Everything was muted, that was until the hero crouched in front of him.
“Hey, kid, are you okay? You seem pretty distraught,” Manuel said with a soft smile.
Izuku hated that smile.
He hated Manuel.
A water quirk. He had a water quirk. So why wasn’t he here sooner? Why wasn’t he fast enough? What kind of hero—
Another man in full police uniform approached. “What’s up with this one?” the officer asked, with a scoff.
Izuku bit down hard on his tongue, jaw trembling, eyes fixed on nothing. The rage spread through him, crawling under his skin until he was consumed by it.
Manuel tried again, oblivious to the nightmare Izuku had just lived through. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said lightly, almost joking. “We checked and were positive everyone made it ou—”
Something inside Izuku snapped. It happened so fast he didn’t feel his own body move. One moment he was staring at the ground, the next his hand flew forward, ripping the gun from the officer’s holster. His vision blurred, ears ringing, he was all out of reason.
Before anyone could react, a crack slashed the silence. Manuel staggered back, shock painted across his face. He clutches his heart, where izuku hit bullseye.
And then, only then, did Izuku realize what he had done.
The rage cleared. The gun felt heavy in his shaking hands. His heart sank.
He hadn’t meant—
He didn’t think—
He couldn’t breathe.
He stared at Manuel, a hero who was only trying to help, and his grip released the gun the case clinking onto the ground.
Izuku stumbled backward. His mouth opening and closing pathetically, no sound coming out. The officer rushed to Manuel’s side, shouting his name, shaking him, desperately trying to get a response. But there was none.
Manuel was dead.
Izuku had killed someone.
His fight-or-flight response launched into action and so he ran.
He bolted away from the scene, sprinting blindly down the street as the world blurred around him. Why was everything changing? Why now, why can’t he wake up from this sick nightmare?!
Sirens wailed behind him, growing closer with every second. He slipped into an alleyway, panting hard as he tried to blend into the shadows stumbling backwards eyeing the street for sign of police. His shoulder slammed into an open door making him whip around. And in that door Izuku saw a staircase leading down. The sirens were gaining on him, so with no time to think, he slipped through the doorway. Quickly shutting it behind him.
The stairwell was pitch-black, making him stumble some. It was so quiet Izuku shivered. When he reached the bottom, a thin strip of light glowed beneath a door. Desperate, he tried the handle to find it unlocked.
He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, back facing the room, chest heaving, he was finally hidden.
Click.
“Don’t turn around.”
A rough voice came out from behind him. As a cold barrel pressed against the back of his skull. Izuku’s breath hitched, and he slowly lifted his hands, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“I—I didn’t want to hurt anybody… I swear…” he choked out between sobs.
The man, who must be two generations older than him, let out an amused scoff.
“What’s your name kid?” He asks his voice not as deadly as last time but still intimidating.
“I-Izuku.. Midoriya…” he stuttered only to hear his name repeated back. Not by the man but the sound of a television. A news broadcast.
“Young preteen identified as Izuku Midoriya is now being searched for by police. If you spot him, call 911 immediately. Pro Hero Manuel is dead— I repeat, Pro Hero Manuel is dead.” Izuku’s breath hitched.
Another sob tore out of him. His whole body trembled, the words hurting like a physical blow.
“Well now… that changes thing.” The gun lowers slightly behind him, no longer pressed on his head. The man approaches stopping just inches away. He felt a gloved hand land on his shoulder. “Looks like you’ve had quite a day…Midoriya,” the man murmured. Izuku flinches at his own name. “Let’s see what the boss thinks about you.”