Warning;
[HINTED PAST CHILD ABUSE]
——(Two days before the first day of U.A. Fighting school)——
"You did amazing as usual my boy," All Might laid a calloused hand on the boy's back, not minding the fact that the fabric was unbelievably damp from sweat. He, instead, chuckled lightheartedly when Izuku hunched over more, panting and sweating from the training regimen Toshinori had given him.
The training was grueling- harsh, and it made Izuku's muscles strain and bones creak under pressure- but over time, he got used to the tiring activity, considering he had started training by seventh grade. He had better control on his kicks, his punches- along with the aim and his release of power.
And for that, Yagi was proud of him.
Toshinori looked along the sky's horizon, watching the sinking sun change the sky's hues to a pleasant, dark orange- somehow reminding him of a tangerine. The cold wind swept the dusk, grains of sand blowing west along with Yagi's mop of blond hair.
The distinct smell of rotting garbage was long gone- along with the occasional sounding crash from a nearby abandoned appliance being thrown into Dagobha beach, all thanks to Midoriya.
"Yagi-San," Izuku caught his attention. "About the entrance exam. It's just- I was wondering if.. You know, I was enough."
The question was sudden- a small amount of uncertainty trickling into the boy's tone- and Toshinori was immediately taken aback. "Midoriya, young man," he paused, looking for his words. He was never really good at teaching- his old master confirmed so, and the memory almost brought him shaky knees (he never really had good memories of the old man during training.).
"I assure you, because of your devotion and remarkable show of determination to the art.. You will be enough. Whatever you want to become, whether to compete or to use the skills I've taught you to bring justice in the police force- or to simply nurture and enjoy the skill I have passed down- I'll be by your side."
Yagi spilled what he had thought to be right- what he had meant deep down in his heart because he knows that Midoriya was.. Ah, difficult in coming to believing in himself. The boy was smart, cunning- tenacious as all hell, but he doubted himself, more often than he could admit. He was the perfect candidate- but all good things had some kind of drawback, and Izuku's "martyr" complex was one of them. And, well.. Yagi wouldn't call it "self-hate" but, it was obvious that the boy was struggling internally for reasons unknown.
Midoriya is a complicated structure full of strength and a vibrant personality, even before Yagi had started to train him.
He grinned and smiled often, for one, and it made All Might subconsciously follow the suit. The boy's perceptive, reading into other people as it they weren't anything but an open book- and Yagi wouldn't doubt that he had known he was injured even before they had met- judging how whenever they sparred he had avoided his left side at all costs.
Toshinori has never told him about the gaping hole in his stomach- but Izuku came to understand- he always did.
It was like a heavy, unspoken truth hanging above their hands like a heavy anvil- both not willing to bring it up is case of upsetting the other.
They had never come to terms with it.
"Thank you, Yagi-San," Izuku bowed his head, voice soft and vulnerable that Toshinori almost caved in and squeezed the boy into a tight bear hug- but he refrained himself in doing so, taking every ounce of self-control not to. He needed to respect his boundaries, Yagi decided.
Before he could utter anything- Izuku whipped his head up and gave a blinding grin again, more genuine and brighter than any of the ones he had given before- and Yagi almost choked and spewed more blood.
"I won't disappoint you, Yagi-San!" Izuku chirped, giving two enthusiastic thumbs up.
'Ah, Midoriya-shounen,' Toshinori smiled to himself as Izuku gave a fist pump, punching the air. 'You never fail to amaze me.'
————
"Mom, how- oh."
Izuku ducked down, sealing his lips shut at the man before him. He gave a courteous bow, stiff as a plank, as he winced when a rough calloused hand rested onto his shoulder.
It wasn't like Yagi's- not warm and comforting, hands that have been worn down as thy lifted society's burdens. No, this hand threatened to hurt, hurt, and hurt, because that's all it's ever done and all that it's ever given. "You were out again," Midoriya Hisashi rumbled deep in his throat, his voice deceivingly soft towards his son.
Izuku nodded, knowing better to speak. "Your mother's not home yet.." Izuku heard the top in his voice, the plunge of his tone at the mention of his mother- and the tone of aggravation and boredom.
(And in his core, he shook, heart hammering in his ears as anxiety threatened to spill from his throat and he can't help but dig his nails into the palms.)
His father's black eyes, coal, fixed on the grim and sweat from his training, nose scrunching up in distaste because he was so dirty, filthy-
"Go take a bath. After that, I expect you to cook dinner."
Izuku held back his tongue, a breath he didn't know he was holding released as the grip on his shoulder slid off- not before lingering on the scars of his arm in obvious repulsion.
(He knows that the scars were so vile, so ugly, so dirty and disgusting-)
Izuku didn't dare look up to the man he once called father, because if he did, he didn't know if he could hold back the poison-laced words he was about to bark, because he didn't know what he may do to his mother- obviously exhausted, tired, from the three years he was gone to take care of some business.
Hisashi, a frown decorating his features, let his arm drop down to his side, the other running through his long, black locks, strands of green poking out.
And Izuku just stood there, his heart beating like drums against his ears, and finally- Hisashi turned his back on him, throwing one last look over his shoulder. "I missed you, son," he uttered, and Izuku almost laughed and doubled over- but he chose to look up, seeing the older Midoriya stalk his way into Inko and his bedroom, the door shutting with a click.
————
Izuku ran his hands over his scars- thin, plastic-pink cuts from training, already healed over. New and old ones decorated him.
(He knows most of them aren't from All Might and him sparring, but the new bruises he got from the training regimen covered the age old ones, bringing some sort of distorted comfort.)
He felt revulsion pulsate through his system, turning on the sink with shaky hands as he shoved his hands under the cold running water. He pumped out three globs of vanilla scented soap, scrubbing his hands.
But it was still unclean.
(He left the bathroom, that day, with the skin of his hands red and borderline bloody. He can't get the filth off of him, oh god, it was so damn dirty-!)
He focused on fixing the symmetry of his hair instead in the mirror, green eyes staring back at him, and he willed himself to be strong, striking a match inside him and lighting fiery determination in his blood.
He had to focus. Yagi chose him for a reason, after all.
YOU ARE READING
{Denial} BakuDeku
Fanfiction"Deku," He murmured, thumbing over the pale skin covered in a sprinkle of light faded freckles, his breath becoming visible and ghosting against the other's cheek from the freezing cold. Red irises caught toxic green ones, his heart clenching- maki...
