one-shots

i wish to not exist(existing is all i can do) - my hero academia

The first time it happened, Izuku was three. Katsuki's only three months older than him, and turned four in April. It was the day after Katsuki gained his quirk. The ash-blond had come rushing to school, barreling through the door, tiny explosions already crackling from his palms. The class wooed in awe, absolutely entranced with the boys quirk.

He would be a hero, his teachers had said.

His quirk was amazing, his classmates had exclaimed.

Kacchan was so cool, Izuku had yelled.

Because, really, he was. Katsuki always had been, even before he had developed his quirk. He was strong, and determined; he always held his ground, even against their seniors. Izuku admired that about him, just like he did with everything else that had to do with Katsuki.

After school, Katsuki and Izuku met up at their secret route in the woods. They walked as Izuku praised the ash-blond, saying how he hoped his quirk would be as cool as Kacchan's.

Katsuki had snorted, "whatever, Deku. Your quirk will never be as good as mine!"

And that was the beginning of the end.

Izuku's smile faltered, before remembering that this was Kacchan. His best friend. He didn't mean it. Izuku plastered his grin right back on, ready to take on that days adventures, even though the words remained in the back of his head. They knocked against his skull, like a persistent hammer, but he ignored the throb.

The hammer only got harsher and more agressive as time passed on. Izuku's fourth birthday finally arrived. He can still remember the emptiness he felt that day. The bitter hole that opened up inside of him, that only grew darker and deeper as him mom whispered "I'm sorry".

He went to school the next day with his head lowered, shame burning hot in his stomach. He crept silently into the classroom, even going as far as to tiptoe inside. Turned out that Izuku wasn't cut out to be a stealth hero. He wasn't cut out to be a hero at all.

"Deku, show us your quirk already!" Katsuki had demanded, palms ignited.

"I, um..." Izuku played with the bottom of his shirt nervously.

The teacher swooped in to save Izuku(it didn't feel like saving. It felt like a crime, throwing him to the hungry wolves and the snarling teeth of children who were bred with discrimination). "Now kids, Midoriya here doesn't have a quirk. So you guys have to be extra nice to him, he's extra fragile."

That's a common misperception, actually. Quirkless people are thought to be weaker, and though it may be true that he's at a social, economic, and political disadvantage by not having a quirk, the only physiological difference is that he doesn't have a single-jointed pinky toe. Even his brain is the same as them(save the intelligence quirks). He's wired just like them, with the same flesh and build up as any other human.

But still, the room had filled with murmurs.

"Hey, isn't there a term for that?"

"Yeah, it's called being quirkless. It's a really rare disease."

"Disease? Oh no! Stay away from Midoriya or else you might catch his quirklessness!"

Screams. Frantic footsteps fading away from him. Deku being shouted. Quirkless.

And Katsuki, well, Katsuki had stood there, watching it all go down with a smile on his face. His chest was puffed out, and he held his head high. Izuku felt a poisonous rage bubble within the depths of him.

He pushed it down.

(The hammering got worse).

Despite this, Izuku couldn't let go of the only friendship he had ever known. He clung to Katsuki, to Kacchan, like a koala. His grip loosened with every insult and burn inflicted on him.

For years, he endured the bullying. It wasn't just from Katsuki, but the whole school. He was the only quirkless student at Aldera High, so it made sense that he would be the main target. The victim.

God, what a fucking joke.

This whole system is such a fucking joke.

Everyday he went home with bruises covering bruises and burns strangely in the shape of a hand. None of the teachers said anything. They saw it happen on multiple occasions, and even heard Izuku beg for help. They ignored him, though, turning their cheek and continuing on with their day. Every. Single. Time.

Izuku kept his bitterness hidden. He would clench his teeth, and dig his nails into his palms. Bit his lips so harshly he'd draw blood. He'd cry instead of yelling or fighting back. He kept the bitter hatred at bay and never dared to let it out.

"Be kind to everyone, Izuku. There's no point in being mean just because someone else was. It just continues the cycle, doesn't it?" His mother had once told him.

He thought about those words a lot. He wondered if his mother would still want him to be kind to the kids who frequently told him to kill himself and called him useless. He wondered what his mother would think if she knew he wanted to continue the cycle.

He hated that about himself. Izuku Midoriya was supposed to be a caring kid, one who was selfless and never thought about himself. But that's just the thing, isn't it? He always thinks about himself.

He thinks about how naive he had been when he was younger to believe he could've become someone, that he could've become a hero. He thinks about how useless he was and how things could've been so much different if he had a quirk. And he thinks that that's life.

That's just fucking life.

(For quirkless people).

How cruel.

How so, very cruel.

That a child at four years old already had their life taken away from them. He was just a toddler. And he didn't matter. Not to anyone, and certainly not to himself.

All because of a mutated joint.

Izuku lost count of the amount of times he wished to die after the fiftieth time. But he recognized it as the hammer in his head, nailing the thought permanently into his skull with a crack.

By the time Izuku was fourteen, he didn't even think his head was intact anymore. It felt so beaten, like it had been bashed from the inside out. Like his head should've just been a splatter on the sidewalk.

And the bitterness only a grew. He breathed it, inhaled it in every single insult and punch thrown at him. There was a tart taste that was always hot on his tongue and a pungent smell that stung his nose. The hole expanded, taking up his core, and now he doesn't think about being a hero or saving people, but rather ending it all. All of it. Society and himself.

Destruction of everything, that's what he craves.

And then Kacchan spoke that day after school. He burned his notebook and threw it out the window. "Take a swan dive off the roof."

"Okay, Kacchan."

Katsuki froze. "Huh? The fuck kinda shit are you trying to pull, Deku?"

Ah, right. Deku. Useless.

Izuku pushed his way past Katsuki. He didn't go to retrieve his notebook from the pond. He walked right past it, didn't even spare it a glance, and left behind the last remains of Izuku Midoriya.

That notebook had just been a way to cling to his childish aspirations, to try to ignore the hole that swallowed him whole. But there was no avoiding it now. Not as the sun set in the horizon and the dark crept up in the sky.

Not as he ran into the Hero Killer: Stain on his way home. Not as he trained under him, and became his protégée. And certainly not as he wielded swords that dripped with the blood of Bakugou Katsuki, aka Pro Hero Dynamight, year later.