We'll be a hero, Izuku.

"You'll never be a hero." Five words. They were spoken so innocently, no one could have known that it completely shattered a little boy's dreams. Until you saw the boy's face, would you have known that it damaged him? Green eyes broken with defeat, tears streaming down his face. He tried to smile like his role-model, but he looked like he could break down over and over again.

"O-okay." Izuku whispered softly, his voice shaking with the sobs he's trying so hard to hold back. Pressure built up in his throat, and it seemed like he could breathe.

Later, at home, he sat in front of the computer screen with his mother. The same, heartbreaking expression plastered on his face. He pointed at his role-model in the screen and asked his mother in a small, broken voice.

"D-do you think I could be a h-hero? L-like him?" He waited for his mother to nod and say that she believed in him, that she knew he could be a hero.

Instead, his mother burst into tears.

"I'm sorry Izuku!" She threw her arms around him, and cried.

Izuku's mother had given up on him, just like the others.

He stared at the screen, feeling numb, wondering if he gave up on himself too.

At school, everyone was playing around with their quirks. Izuku walked up to his friend, Katski, or Kacchan.

"Hi, Kacchan." Izuku said in a tired voice. He had stayed up all night, and couldn't seem to fall asleep. Bakugou turned to see Izuku, and started to laugh.

"Hey! It's the quirkless freak!"

Izuku was crowded and jeered at, and it was like he couldn't breathe. But he kept smiling like nothing was wrong. Even though everything was.

He blocked out all of the laughter and the mean comments. He looked around, trying to find anyone, and face that wasn't as hateful as the others, but no such luck.

When you are six years old, everything looks big. But his classmates towered over him like skyscrapers, giving him no room to breathe.

This bullying went on for weeks. Finally, Izuku had enough and ran home from school. His mom was at work, so the house was silent. He hugged his knees and started to cry quietly. Waves of sadness pounded on his back over and over.

"I can't be a hero." Izuku whispered finally. His heart shattered. The little boy gave up on himself.

Izuku's breathing was shallow. He clutched the carpet and pulled hard, trying to find feeling. He felt so numb, so hurt.

His eyes wandered to the kitchen. His legs moved on their own, carrying him to the drawers, where the razor blade was hidden. He carried the little shard to the bathroom, where the light glinted on the metal and the blade seemed to be smiling at Izuku.

He made one cut, then two, then three. The cutting released endorphins, and the endorphins caused addiction.

He wrapped his arm in an ace bandage, and slipped on a hoodie. He then proceeded to his room to try to forget about being a hero.

Months after he cut, no one noticed his strange behavior and allowed the cuts to fully heal. Faint white scars still held their position, but was very unnoticeable. If you weren't looking for them, you wouldn't see them.

Izuku felt a little better. He was seven, and past all of that drama.

At least that's what everyone thought. He still cried at night, he still tried to develope a quirk on his own.

One day, he was home alone because his mother had a meeting.

He stuffed an old shirt in his mouth and screamed.

"Please help me... I can't be a hero, can I?" Izuku knew he was just a wishful thinker. Just as he was about to give up on himself, he heard a familiar voice.

"Izuku," a green-haired boy that looked very similar to Izuku said.

"W-who are you?"

"I'm you Izuku. I'm from a few years later. After I leave, you'll forget me, but..." The older kneeled in front of the younger, coming into eye-level. They hugged each other.

"We'll be a hero, Izuku."

A single tear rolled down little Izuku as he clutched his older self.

All this trying, he realized. Wasn't in vain.

I'll try harder, little Izuku promised himself.