That Day // Villain Deku

Chapter 1: Why Me?

Izuku Yagi's P.O.V

    I was deep in thought on my way to school—thinking only of a hero fight I had witnessed previously. I loved watching the heroes. Fights, interviews, patrolling: I loved it all. The way the heroes put their lives on the line—solely for the purpose of helping others—made my heart flutter. I wanted nothing more than to help others; therefore, I wanted nothing more than to become a hero. 

    I was so lost in thought, that I didn't hear my sister, Izumi, taunting me. I was abruptly pulled from my optimism by an intense pain I felt all throughout my back. Looking up, I saw my twin sister, Izumi, and my past friend, Todoroki, standing above me.

    Todoroki had knocked me into a nearby locker while Izumi stood there and proceeded to crouch down to where I sat—propped up against a locker. As Todoroki's right hand contacted my skin, I felt a burning sensation.

    His ice was so cold that it burned.

    I whimpered as Izumi began lecturing me about 'the consequences of ignoring her' or something, but her voice was drowned out by the pain in my arm.

    As soon as the bell rang, they walked off; meanwhile, I sat on the floor, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the soft sobs from escaping my lips. I couldn't care less about classes on days like these—much to my permanent record's dismay—so I ran to the bathroom. Once I got there, I made sure nobody was around and cried. I didn't know how long I spent bawling my eyes out and clutching my hurt wrist, but what I did know was that I was sad. Sad that this was my life; sad that I was always subjected to this treatment, and sad that there was nothing I could do about it.

    When I felt a little better, I stood up, ran my wrist under boiling, hot water, wrapped it in spare gauze I had found in the emergency first-aid kit on the wall of the bathroom, and then went to my second period.

    Arriving late, I took my seat. It was unusual for me to walk into class as late as I did, so I got a lot of stares from my peers—especially from Izumi. I felt my vision swirling and my throat closing due to the amount of judgmental, mocking eyes that had been glued to my figure as my body floated towards my desk—though I ignored it fully and tried to focus on my teacher's words. This feeling was usual for me, though. It felt as if my head were underwater, but I could still breathe. It felt as if I were being choked, but nobody's hands were around my neck, nor was there any tight cloth restricting my breathing. It felt as if I were dying, but never had the satisfaction of silent and painless eternity.

    As we were talking about our futures, and what we wanted to make of our lives, I was having trouble seeing and breathing. Those feelings had only worsened when I felt an explosion hit my desk, and my body being blasted backward.

    My back collided with the wall, right where my past encounter with a locker had left its mark. I looked up to see none-other-than Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, and my sister, Izumi—looking menacing as ever—towering over my small, defenseless form. I sat helplessly, against the wall, waiting, praying, that someone—anyone—would step in and help me, but no one did. 

    No one ever did anything to help me.

    All anyone ever did was laugh at me—which would be funnily ironic, if it weren't so disappointing.

    Why me? 

    Why was it always me? 

    After a while, the teacher stopped the harassment from my peers, and continued the lesson; meanwhile, I sat on the floor, too tired to move. Too tired to bounce back up and smile as if nothing were going wrong in the world as of right now. Too tired to pick myself up and dust myself off—with words of self-encouragement, like: 'It's okay', or 'You'll be okay'.