In case any of you didn't know, I posted an A/N asking if it would be alright to skip ahead and I decided to do just that. Right now, I have skipped two years and he is now 14. Thank you for understanding.
Also, one-shot book coming soon ;) I'm gonna have fun tormenting then comforting our poor boy >:3
Izuku grit his teeth as he pulled out shards of glass from his skin. The dark red blood that seeped out was a painful reminder that he was alive and that he needed to clean the floor later.
He wondered how he got up to this point. It seemed like just yesterday he was sleeping on the concrete floor of the abandoned coffee shop, starving but not really caring about his hunger. He was a small, twelve year-old boy who was afraid of everything.
Now, Izuku was living in the cheapest place he could find. All he had to do was save the money and starve. It was quite acceptable, as long as he scavenged like he usually did. But months of vigilante work had taught him that he definitely needed a bathroom, and a public restroom wasn't suitable for his bloody business.
He is now a small, fourteen year-old boy who is still afraid of everything.
Which got him to today. Living in a shabby room with a bathroom that had been covered in so much blood, it could've been a cannibal's den. Izuku kept it clean and blood-free.
Life seemed to be as calm as it would let him be. He had a place to stay, actual money, and he didn't have to talk to most people.
Except Eraser Head.
The pro hero seemed just as chatty as ever, even if they both never spoke much. He would ask him if he ate and if he was okay. If he was injured or if he was sick. If he was sad or if he was upset. He never tried to pry into his business desperately, but still inquired about his personal life often.
For an underground hero who disliked company, he was always asking Izuku about his health and wellbeing.
He shouldn't have to bother about you, and you know that.
Thanks for reminding me. It was not necessary since I know that by heart.
Sometimes, he did crack. Izuku would let small details slip whenever he was sad, overwhelmed, or just needed someone to talk to. He would tell Eraser small snippets of his life and run after he vented his feelings. Then he would avoid the man for a while or just not come out at all.
Right now, though, he had to get ready for work. He slipped his face mask on and set out.
--------------------------------------------------
Katsuki was unhappy.
He has been for at least four years. Or he was never really content since the incident.
Tomorrow was the fourth anniversary of Deku's death.
It was like nobody even cared. When he brought it up, everyone would praise him for worrying about the quirkless kid and having a heart of gold. His friends went on with life like usual. His teachers didn't seem disturbed.
Katsuki crushed the bottle in his hands and tossed it into the bin. The whole situation irked him to his core.
Aunt Inko must be feeling terrible.
"Hey, Katsuki. We're going to this new shop that's got good food," one of his classmates called out. "You wanna come?"
Ah, screw it. He could finish his homework there without his mom screaming at him every five minutes.
The two idiots chattered loudly the whole time. Katsuki wished he could tie their mouths shut.
The place was a small coffee shop, smelling of ground coffee and cake. For a small business, there seemed to be a lot of customers chatting and eating. Katsuki slid his bag in a spot as his classmates went to order.
At the counter was a woman and a short boy, who seemed to be his age or younger. He was wearing a dark hoodie, a cap, an apron, and a black face mask. His hair was curly and dark. Light dustings of flour coated parts of his clothes. He seemed to ask the woman a question before darting to the back.
He looks so familiar...
They came back with a tray of cake slices and cups of tea. One of them passed a plate to him.
It looked like a normal slice of cake. Katsuki picked up his fork and tried it.
Oh, damn.
Katsuki did not have much of a sweet tooth, but this was a deal breaker. Fluffy and moist, sweet but not diabetes-inducing, and the frosting brought it all together perfectly.
Who the hell made this?
Katsuki shifted his gaze to the counter to search for the baker.
The woman taking orders probably wasn't. She had been standing there the whole times, making coffee.
The boy was probably the one who made them. He stayed in what Katsuki assumed was the kitchen. Unless he was just cleaning or restocking, Katsuki felt like his guess was more or less accurate.
The more I look at him, the more he looks familiar to me.
He turned to his classmate. "Hey. Send me the address of this place."
The boy smirked. "Did you like the cake? I knew this place would get you to change your mind!" He pulled out his phone, and Katsuki pulled out his.
"I'm still not going to your birthday party. Stop asking me, it's annoying as fuck."
His classmate pouted and sent him a link.
Katsuki glared at him and shoved the rest of the cake into his mouth.
The rest of the evening was spent with him finishing his homework, listening to his classmates' idle chatter, and staring at the strange boy that darted to and from the kitchen.
I promised that this would come out sooner but I failed to carry it out :')
Also it is EXTREMELY half-assed because I lost my sanity after a while since I didn't know how to continue this smoothly
Also Bakugo calls Inko 'Aunt' in his head because he thinks its rude not to. But mostly because I think it's weird without it ^^;
YOU ARE READING
Nonchalant
FanfictionQuirkless. That's all Izuku Midoriya was and all he will be. He was going to prove everyone wrong. -------------------------------------------------- Two years after the disappearance of Izuku Midoriya, a new vigilante stepped out of the shadows, re...