It's Just a Simple Fall

I'm not the one who should apologize.

Izuku was happy, at least that's what he tried to be. He was 14, quirkless, small, and weak. He had no father, no friends, and no idol (anymore at least). No on in his life had a shred of belief in him. Since he was 4 he had been told repeatedly he couldn't achieve what he wanted.

His mother apologized.

His friend lashed out.

His teachers ignored.

His classmates followed.

Every person. One by one. He loved his mother, he did, truly, but how long would that love last? How long would he use it to keep going. Truly he was exhausted. She didn't believe in him, no one did, and for what? Because he was born without a quirk? Did it really matter all that much? The answer was yes. It was everything. It is everything.

His best friend? Turned on him. Completely abandoned him. Attacked him. It started as a one time thing, then slowly it became more common. Slowly Izuku became a victim. Despite the abuse, the torment, he clung to him like a child to a toy. He needed it. Bakugou was his anchor. The person he was closest to prior to the diagnosis.

Before he received the news, he was an equal. Just like every other kid. Small, excitable, happy, energetic, and a huge love for heroes. Well, he was like most kids. But then he was told he was quirkless. Part of a small number of people. 20% isn't a small amount when it came to population of the world. Except, Izuku was a 4 year old kid. He was the only 4 year old quirkless in his school, neighborhood, district, possibly even city.

He had tried, persevered, for 10 years. How much longer could he live like this? How much longer could he take it? The mental strain, the abuse, the hatred, the spite. He was hated and the only explanation he would receive was because of a second joint in his toe. Izuku often mused at how stupid it was. How it wasn't fair. How it was completely idiotic for the whole world to turn on him because of something like this. Something he couldn't control.

His mother didn't turn on him, but she wasn't present either. Izuku needed someone to have faith. Someone to give him a reason to keep going. What he didn't receive from his peers he begged for from his mother. He didn't have much, he didn't need much. He didn't ask for much either. He never complained. He bit his tongue and stayed in line. Tried hard to learn his 'place' as the others put it.

He tried to keep to himself. To ignore it. To just agree and move on. He tried so so hard, yet it never stopped, it never got better. Notes in his desk, bruises on his skin, blood on his clothes, carvings on his desk, trash in his bag, how long would he deal with all this. How long could he sit there, grit his teeth, and pull through?

His mental health was already declining. He was holding on by a string and soon enough it'd snap. Soon enough he would stop bandaging the cuts and bruises. He'd stop smiling. He'd stop trying. He'd stop avoiding, ignoring, complying. He'd stop with the faking and he'd just accept his fate. Accept that the quirkless aren't meant to exist in a society like this. Accept that he'll never be a hero no matter what he does. Accept that no one will believe him.

Because having hope in a situation like this just makes you worse. He was done hoping. Done imagining a future he won't get to see. He was finished with playing a part he wasn't like. He was tired of the script he was following. The schedule he repeated day on and day in. Why did he wake up in the morning if it's all the same?

Then one day it was different. It started the same, and all until the end of the day it was the same. Except as everyone left to go home he was left with 3 others in the room. He assumed the same fate would happen. He'd get beat up, cursed at, anything like his usual routine. Except this was different. His old friend was the same, cocky, narcissistic, obnoxious, an overall asshole. But there was a glint in his eyes.