Void Hero

CH1

Hello! It's the author! This was rewritten and edited a day after the information chap was sent out! Not beta-read, if you find any confusing ways of wording or misused words (EX: tails and tales) please tell me!

Disclaimers: eventually lots of cussing. And mental trauma and bullying... but that's normal in most MHA fics.

Have a nice day/night and I hope you will consider joining my discord!

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What did he do? Was it the dreams? The hope for a quirk of his own? What gave them the right to decide he was less? Because he was quirkless? Was it his bleeding heart for heroism or how he wore his heart on his sleeve? Was it his admiration for those with quirks that made him weak?

He wished they would just stop. Stop hurting him and laughing about it like he was some... some bug they could just step on for fun. The teachers, the students, the pedestrians who think someone else will help. When in reality, no one would.

Not even All Might the number one hero. The head of one of the largest quirkless rights activists groups did not see him as worth his dream. And when an explosion rocked the city, Izuku sat right there, hoping that someone, anyone, would save him.

His eyes hurt from crying, his heart burned, and a headache was beginning to form. He needed to get home.

The chill night air burned the raw tear tracks that cascaded down his face. He did not have the money for the train, thanks to Bakugou and his need to take EVERYTHING from him. But after about an hour and a half of walking, he finally made it home. Whether it was a good or bad thing, his mother was not home to see his face flushed with cold and sorrow. She wasn't there to tell him it would be alright or that she would always be there for him. But... she needed to work, her work was more important, and he would never want to take her away from that.

So resigned to the ache in both his bones and heart, Izuku cleaned up. The slime villain smelled awful, and he did not want to be in that foul stench anymore. A quick shower and a fresh pair of clothes eased the ache but... but what could cure broken dreams? Most likely... most likely sleep.

His room seemed to mock and yell at him as he laid there mind spiraling deeper and deeper into the depths of sadness. If he could not be a hero then, maybe it was time to break out those old architect notes he wrote on Cementos.

As sleep finally claimed him and the voices could not express their hatred at him, he could not help but wish the next day would be better.

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"No mind to think."

In his dreams, he was never in control. For years they had repeated the words said to belittle him during the day. His nightmares made him relive the worst days and remember the saddest with uncanny clarity.

At first, he thought nothing of it; they were dreams. He would eventually forget them. But he never did.

"No will to break."

Eventually, he started to believe the voices. Their hatred spread through him, and the sirens screaming in his mind were maddening. He could not fight back. Not against the evil of his dreams. Not when they spoke the truth. He was useless. He was weak and scared. Undeserving of his mom, and he deserved his dad leaving them. HE caused everything to go to shit for him and his mom. HE should not have been born.

And he could not deny that they were right.

"No voice to cry suffering."

As his dreams only ever seem to get worse. It became harder to speak up against the bullying, against the blatant uncaring attitude against his life. Pain cries for help turned into quiet sobs and whimpers as he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. The burns and cuts and bruises on his skin seemed to meld with everything. He could not seem to focus on anything anymore.