Chapter Text
The school day began like any other: Izuku woke up, fumbled for his phone, and shut off his alarm. He sat up, wincing at the soreness in his muscles and the nudging of bruises from yesterday’s altercations. Sliding his feet over the edge of his bed, he stood up slowly and did a few light stretches to alleviate a bit of his pain. It generally helped, but only in the sense that he wouldn’t actively look like he was in pain throughout the day. He grabbed his uniform from where it lay folded on his desk, fingering lightly at the scorched material littered in small holes. The damage made the shirt look much older than it actually was.
He remembered when he had gotten this uniform. He also remembered the look on his mother’s face when he had walked into the house only a few days later with it in a state of total disarray.
He distantly recalls asking her a few weeks back if she could afford to at least buy him a new shirt. She responded with nothing except for a look that seemed to ask, “What’s the point?” Izuku couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his mother’s voice, and he was sure it had been even longer since that voice was directed toward him.
Dressed in his disheveled clothing, he spared a glance into the mirror and debated whether it would be worth it today to try and cover up the more noticeable bruises along his arms and neck. He decided against it when he remembered that no one would care enough to ask him about where they came from. Not even his teachers, who looked the other way as Izuku’s classmates used his body for target practice.
He thought about making a small breakfast for himself, since he had planned on spending his lunch period as far as physically possible from any other human beings. Hearing his mother moving around in the kitchen, however, made him resign himself to another day with only a protein bar. That is, if he had the chance to sneak one into his bag after his mother left.
The front door clicked shut, and Izuku let out a small sigh of relief. He couldn’t help but to wonder, though, if maybe today would be the day that Inko Midoriya wouldn’t return home. If maybe today is the day that she decides she can no longer listen to his childlike fantasies of being a hero. Can no longer deal with the disappointed stares and pitying glances that came hand-in-hand with having a quirkless child. Not that she ever said as much to him about it, but Izuku had seen it every day since his fourth birthday. He could see it in the way that she refused to look him in the eye, always staring either at his injuries or over his shoulder into the distance.
He could see it in the way that she had been slowly taking on more and more shifts at the hospital, offering to cover for other nurses, staying away from the house and him for days or even weeks at a time. Working in other cities miles and miles away.
In the way that she never told Izuku if when she’d be home.
The way she never said ‘goodbye.’
Never said ‘I love you.’
Because she didn’t. Izuku knew that. She didn’t have to say anything for Izuku to get the point. He knew that he was worthless as a son. Just a disappointing , useless deku. He knew that. He had been told that by everyone every day for the last nine years, and surely if everyone was saying it, then it had to be true, right?
Shaking away those thoughts and glancing at the time, he shoved the last of the protein bars into his pockets, shoved his shoes onto his feet, and he shouldered his backpack. He steeled himself for the day ahead, and walked out of the front door.