Worthless Necessity [HitoZuku]

Chapter 17 - Lives in the burning fodder

Note: Some self harm in the beginning

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Midoriya stumbled through his window, trying to push down the feeling of dread and anxiety that was starting to bubble up in his stomach.

He really hated fire.

Or, to be more exact, he didn't necessarily hate all kinds of fire.

His father, Midoriya Hisashi, had a fire breathing quirk. That fire didn't hurt him, it protected him.

Todoroki's fire was unstable, full of rage and anger, but Midoriya could deal with it. It wasn't gentle, like Hisashi's flames, but it wasn't outrightly malicious.

Like Enji's.

Like the man who hated and and set fire to his house, the fire that had taken his parents lives.

After gently lifting Reiko and Ryuto out of their hiding place in the cupboard, Midoriya hastily peeled his hoodie off, almost letting out a hiss as the cool air his singed skin. His hoodie was fire-proof, yes, he had specifically made it that way, but that just meant that it wouldn't burn easily, just to protect his identity. Inside, he could still feel the fire licking at his skin, and it wasn't the fire itself that hurt him, but the memories it triggered hurt so much.

He shakily wrapped his arms around himself, ignoring the numbing pain that shot throughout his body as his hands rubbed against his tender skin, as Reiko looked on in concern, but unsure of what to do to make him feel better. He curled up on his bed, trying to calm himself down, trying to shut off the memories that were filling his brain and overwhelming him, the memories that he couldn't handle ever since he was seven.

The smell of burning flesh filled his nose, and Midoriya squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip in an attempt to distract himself from the memory that had haunted him for so long. He didn't want to remember, but he didn't want to forget. He swallowed down his anxiety, his anger, his sorrow, and tried to relax, trembling on the bed, curling in on himself.

He wanted to be a hero. He couldn't let stupid things like his emotions overwhelm him. The man who killed his parents acted on his emotions, his rage, his anger; Midoriya couldn't afford to do the same.

Midoriya was doing his best to try and keep as quiet as possible, to stifle the whimpers that came out of his mouth, not even thinking about the fact that someone could just barge into his room at three in the morning and see his burnt and scarred skin.

He probably looked equally pathetic as he did now as he was when he was seven, just lying there haplessly, like a beaten and broken doll, a useless, worthless child that shouldn't even be alive.

"Shh... Izuku... " Inko cradled her four year old son gently as he wept into her shirt, clinging to her like a lifeline, his arms and legs covered in cuts and bruises, "The world will always be cruel to you, Izuku. If you want to be a hero, you can't cry. Heroes don't cry. They can't cry, or they'll appear to be weak and everyone would take advantage of that. You shouldn't cry for something that wasn't your fault. It's my fault. I wasn't strong enough to give you a quirk, a quirk that would have made your life better."

Inko gently ran her fingers through Midoriya's fluffy hair, pulling him in for a hug.

"You can cry in front of you father and I, but until you can find someone else out there that loves and cares for you, no matter your quirkless status, you can't cry. You can't show other people how much they are hurting you. People would just hurt you more. Do you understand, Izuku?"