Chapter Text
Izuku never thought it would get this bad again.
The war was over. The League of Villains had been defeated, All For One was dead. The world had been saved. Crime was at an all-time low, and society had returned to normal. Everyone had moved on.
So why? Why was Izuku staring at the blade in his hands, contemplating going back to his old habits, just to quiet down the voices in his head?
Of course, he knew why. He had failed to save everyone, to save Tomura, like the useless Deku that he was
The vestiges were gone. The last embers of One For All had faded away, the remnants of the previous users had disappeared. He was once again alone.
So why were there still voices in his head? Familiar voices, screaming at him about his quirkless, useless existence, like they'd never left. Why? He was supposed to be better now.
He had friends. He and Kacchan were closer than ever before. Hell, he was attending his dream school, surrounded by his favorite heroes, learning to be one.
To the world, he already was a hero.
And yet, here he was, in his dorm room bathroom, silent tears running down his cheeks, his scarred, aching hands holding an all too familiar blade like a lifeline.
He didn't know why he hadn't thrown away his blades. After All Might told him that he could be a hero, and had offered to train him and give him his quirk, Izuku had quit his self-harming habit. Of course, the urges had still been there, but seeing his progress on his body, hearing All Might’s encouraging words during their training, had been enough to quiet down the voices.
He was finally working on his dream, with the Number One Hero by his side. What more could he have asked for?
Though it still hurt whenever All Might would remind him that he wouldn't be able to become a hero without a quirk, his quirk, that Izuku as he was wasn't good enough. But he made sure to bury those feelings deep down, silently clawing away at his heart as time went on
Still, even though he hadn't indulged in his unhealthy coping mechanism, even though he had told himself that he wouldn't do that anymore, he had kept his razor blades. He wasn't sure why. He felt… safe, knowing that they were still in the back of his sock drawer. It wasn't logical, but he couldn't bring himself to throw them away.
And when they’d moved to the dorms, he had brought them with him, tucked away in a small box in the back of his closet. Having them here gave him some comfort he couldn't quite explain.
He was now both relieved and cursing that decision.
Izuku stared at his marred thighs, an ugly painting of scar tissue and damaged skin. He had always hated them. Even from the first time he pressed a blade on his skin he knew that he would always hate himself for it, more than he already did, anyway. That he would always resent that part of himself, of his body. That it would always be a physical reminder of his weakness.
Because that’s what he was. Weak.
He hadn't let anyone know, not Mom, or All Might, or even Katsuki. Even when the two of them would sleep together, on the first nights after the war, he would always make sure to hide that part of himself. He couldn't let Katsuki see how damaged and weak he had been, and still was.
But he does know. Everyone does.
After the war ended, Izuku knew that he wouldn't be the same ever again. He was living through day after day, waiting for the embers of One For All to fade away, along with his chances at being a hero, a real hero.
He would go through hero training along with his classmates, but he didn't feel like he belonged there anymore. He felt like an impostor, just a child trying to live the dream for a little while longer, before reality came crushing down and everyone realized he had no place among them.
You don’t deserve to have a place among them.
Just like you don’t deserve to be a hero.
It had been almost two and a half years since the last time he’d self-harmed. And he was seriously debating breaking that streak.
As you should. You deserve it.
He did.
You are no hero.
You have failed.
You deserve the pain.
You deserve to hurt, like all those that are hurting because of you. You-
Shut up shut up SHUT UP!
Izuku let out a sob as he drew the first line.
A sense of relief overcame his entire being. The static in his ears subsided, the numbness in his limbs fading.
It wasn't that hard, afterwards; old, practiced moves as he drew a second, a third, a fourth line. He took comfort in watching the blood flowing from his wounds and running down his thigh.
It felt just as he remembered, if not better. The voices in his head quieted down, his ears no longer ringing, his eyes finally dry of tears.
Izuku got up, mechanically disinfected the cuts and wrapped his leg with fresh bandages, before starting getting ready for bed.
It would be a one-time thing, Izuku promised himself. A mere relapse, to help him get away from his thoughts, even just for a moment.
If he was lucky, he would get injured during hero training tomorrow, and Recovery Girl would heal them along with whatever sent him to her.
No one had to know.
~~~
It took only two days for Izuku to break his promise.
Deep down, Izuku had known, it wouldn't be a one-time thing. He had known that whatever control he thought he’d had, had been thrown out the window the moment he pressed the blade on his skin.
But the thoughts had been too loud to resist.
They'd had joint hero training today, with class 2-B.
When Aizawa announced it, Izuku had been filled with memories of the first joint training battle the two hero classes had had. It’d been Hitoshi’s entrance exam for the heroics course, which he’d passed and had earned him a place in class 2-A.
But apart from that, it had also been the first time Izuku manifested a quirk that belonged to One For All’s previous users.
Monoma had insulted Katsuki, in order to get him to reply, having copied Hitoshi’s Brainwashing. And instead of a Delaware Smash Air Force, like he'd intended to, Izuku had released uncontrollable Blackwhip tendrils.
The moment the words about the joint training left Aizawa's mouth, Izuku was, once again, hit with the realization that he would never use his predecessors’ quirks, ever again.
And as if that wasn't enough, this joint exercise entailed sparring with quirks. Quirks, that Izuku didn't have.
He felt so useless.
He could’ve sworn he caught more than a few members of class 2-B staring at him with pity, when they thought he wasn't looking. As if he didn't already pity himself.
He could barely hold it together and spar with Awase, who was kind enough to not use his quirk, so it would be fair to Izuku.
He was holding back a panic attack while in the locker rooms, quickly changing and bolting out so his classmates wouldn't see the tears rolling out of his eyes.
He rushed to his dorm room and shut himself in, all but throwing his bag on the ground and going straight to the bathroom.
It was only until he felt the sting of the blade on his leg that he realized what he was doing. But he didn't care enough to stop.
He didn't deserve to stop.
So he didn't.
It took loud knocking on his door for him to drop the blade, and see the damage he had done.
But, of course, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. He needed to be punished, after all. Punished for being weak, for being useless, for not being good enough.
He swiftly wiped the blood off his legs and the floor, assured whoever was waiting on the other side of the door that he had heard them and would be there in a moment, and hid every evidence of his poor coping skills.
He wiped the stray tears from his face, and smiled, preparing himself to reassure them that he was fine, just tired from hero training.
No one could know.
~~~
“So,” Ochaco started, her mouth stuffed with rice, “where are you going for summer break?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tsu said, and took a bite of her food. “My parents will probably be working, so I’ll have to take care of my siblings, kero.”
Ochaco hummed.
“We are going on a family vacation to Nagasaki!” Tenya said, his hands doing his usual chopping motions.
“Ooh!” Ochaco exclaimed. “That sounds great!”
Tenya turned to the recent addition to the Dekusquad. “What about you, Hitoshi-kun?”
“Well…”
Izuku tuned them out, mechanically eating his food.
You can't eat that.
Izuku frowned at the thought. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time.
You don’t deserve it.
His stomach churned. He lowered down his chopsticks, and stared at his food. His mind involuntarily started going over the ingredients, deciding which ones he was allowed to eat and which not. But why? It had been so long since… that happened. What-
“Deku-kun?” Ochaco asked, shaking him out of his trance.
“Mm?” He looked up, meeting the girl’s eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Izuku averted his gaze. “Uh, yeah, I'm fine.”
Her brow furrowed. “You're not eating.”
“Oh.” He glanced at his other friends, who were looking at him with curiosity, a hint of worry in their eyes.
He gave them a reassuring smile, that he was sure didn't reach his eyes. “Sorry, I'm just not very hungry today.”
He turned to Ochaco, pushing his bento towards her.
“You can have mine, if you want.”
The girl stared at him for a few seconds, before shrugging, and accepted the offered bento. “Free food is free food.”
Izuku could tell she and his friends were sparing him concerned looks, but didn't pressure him to talk.
He didn't know what he would have said if they did.
~~~
Izuku woke up with a gasp.
Kacchan was dead. Kacchan was dead. Izuku was too late. He was too late and now Kacchan was dead and Izuku couldn't breathe-
Clutching the front of his shirt like a lifeline, he forced himself to take deep breaths. He was in his dorm room. He was at U.A.. The war was over, and everyone was here, alive. Kacchan was alive.
But Izuku needed to see. He needed to be sure, he needed to hear Kacchan's heartbeat.
Still drawing ragged breaths, he got out of bed, and dragged himself out of his dorm room and up the stairs to the fourth floor.
He knocked on Katsuki's door, his hands still trembling. It seemed like an eternity before he heard footsteps from inside the room. Izuku almost started sobbing when the door opened and Katsuki’s sleepy form came into view.
“Izuku? It’s 3 am, what wro-”
He seemed to noticed Izuku’s state, his expression softening. He opened his arms, and Izuku didn't hesitate to fall into his embrace. Tears started flowing from his eyes as he listened to Katsuki’s heart beating.
“You're alive,” Izuku whispered, clutching the back of his shirt.
“I'm alive,” Katsuki cupped the back of his head, hugging him tightly. “I'm alive."
Once Izuku had calmed down a bit, and made sure that it was not a dream, that Katsuki really was alive, his heart beating strong, he pulled away.
“Sorry.”
Katsuki shook his head. “No, don’t apologize.” He leaned down, and pressed his lips on Izuku’s forehead. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Izuku nodded, and followed after him.
Katsuki wrapped his arms around him, as Izuku lay with his head on the blond’s chest, taking comfort in the strong beat of his heart.
But he couldn't calm down his racing thoughts.
He had been too late. Katsuki had died. It was only thanks to Edgeshot's sacrifice that Katsuki's heart had been mended back together and started beating again.
It wasn't because of Izuku. Because Izuku had failed. He had failed to get there in time, just like he had failed to save Tomura. To save everyone, like he'd promised.
Izuku was a failure.
His skin itching for the familiar sting of the blade, he hugged Katsuki tighter, his tears staining the blond’s shirt.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Katsuki whispered, gently running his fingers through his messy curls. If only he knew what was going on in Izuku’s head.
But he would never know. No, Izuku would never let anyone see how much of a mess he was, how weak he was.
Izuku didn't fall asleep again.