Chapter Text
The first thing that he felt as he ebbed back into consciousness was his knees. Specifically, the thinly adrenaline-veiled sting of bloodied, abused ones. His palms felt like ice. Actually, everything around him felt like ice- an intruding contrast to the heat his head and legs were buzzing with. The world felt stilted as it came back into his perception: sense bleeding into touch, bleeding into sound, bleeding into taste, bleeding into sight. His spine protested loudly at an attempt to raise himself off the impossibly cold ground. So instead he laid there, motionless.
What happened?
That was the first real thought to come to him, and with it came a sudden, lurching feeling of pain in his head and his ribs. His... ribs? He had probably bruised them, but he wasn’t sure when. He wasn’t really sure what had happened at all. And now he’s somewhere he can’t identify-on the concrete in some alley, probably- and no one knew where he was. A light snow was falling around him now.
With these realizations, he began to notice the regained feeling in his legs, and promptly forced his wailing body to sit upright, despite its aggressive refusal to cooperate. Alright, inventory time;
Both his knees were coated with crusted blood (not a surprise, but certainly unwelcome), his right leg was covered in soot and ash (meaning he’d probably ran through a fire at some point- goddammit), and he could feel a deep bruising on his cheek, pulsating along with the scrapes and scratches across his knees and arms. Pulling up his shirt revealed a deep, purple and blue bruise along the area of his stomach and ribs. Great. Peachy.
Sitting up was difficult, but standing up was complete hell. His legs nearly buckled as he took a shuddering, treacherous breath. His vision swam for a second- god, whatever had hit his face must’ve hit hard. His shoulder collided with the wall, supporting his aching ribs momentarily as he made sure he wasn’t dead on his feet. He stretched his digits up to his temple, rubbing monotonous circles into the tanned skin there.
Pulling his hands away, he noticed the fading cracks of gold along the paler side of his palms- great, he had used his quirk, then. The soot that coated his legs and shoes was probably his doing, which eased something in his chest while sparking an entire other feeling of dread into life.
He took out his phone (a passing glance at the clock told him it was past midnight) and opened the camera, wincing as his own complexion appeared. The bruise along his temple and cheek looked a lot worse than he had hoped it would, but that wasn’t what really startled him.
Both of his eyes were pulsating a deep, fiery gold- the same gold as the cracks that lined his skin. An after-effect of his quirk, which was the nail in the now unavoidable coffin.
God, okay- he had to think. What had happened? He couldn’t remember anything that occurred before blanking out- just a large chunk of time directly after school that was replaced with a vague, numbing darkness. It had to have been something, he never used his quirk to this point unless the circumstances were dire- and the last time something had called for it was… well, he really didn’t want to think about that.
Shaking his head, he checked the time just to make sure he hadn’t gotten it wrong in his haste to look at his appearance (sadly, he hadn’t misread it. He shouldn’t have been so surprised, considering the sky was pitch black). Along with the time, though, he noticed a large amount of unread notifications on his phone- all but three of them being from the same person.
“Dammit.” he hissed through clenched teeth, and a shaky finger pressed it’s way onto one of the many messages sent from his mother. She was obviously panicking, the seven missed calls said enough about that before he even read her frantic texts-
Yesterday 4:24PM Mom- Izuku honey, you should tell me if you’re going to be home late from school! You know how worried I get
Yesterday 5:12PM Mom- Izuku you’re scaring me, please message me dear
Yesterday 5:33PM Mom- Baby please talk to me it’s going to get dark soon and I’m worried
Yesterday 5:50PM Mom- Izuku baby talk to me, if something’s wrong I’m here okay?
Yesterday 5:51PM Mom- Please pick up Izuku
Yesterday 6:34PM Mom- As soon as you get home we’re talking about this
Yesterday 7:46PM Mom- Oh god Izuku please be okay, Officer Sansa has been out looking for you for the past hour and I’m so scared
Yesterday 9:25PM Mom- Please be safe Izuku
Today 1:17AM You- Mom I’m okay I’m safe I’m so so sorry
Today 1:17AM You- I just woke up and I’m not sure where I am but I’m safe, okay? I’m so so sorry mom oh my god
Today 1:18AM Mom- Oh thank god you’re okay Izuku, send me your location I’m picking you up
He activated his GPS and sent a location pin to his mom, who sent a quick ‘On my way’ in response. God, how could he do this to her again? He didn’t deserve her, he really really didn't.
Some part of him wanted to sink into the growing piles of snow around him and disappear- no longer a burden, only drifting in the cold, icy fluff that seemed so welcoming despite his better knowledge. The other, less clouded part of his brain protested against this. Instead, he sent a small spark of warmth through his now numb fingertips, relishing in the heat but scowling at the still-glowing golden folds in his skin.
He heard a car screech to a halt a few minutes later; which meant mom had to have been driving around even before he had texted her- his location pin said he was a few miles from home, and she couldn’t have traveled that far so quickly otherwise. The purring of the engine guided him to the front of the alley, and he felt tears burn their way from his eyes as his mom’s round, worried face came into view.
She didn’t bother closing the car door- instead abandoning it in favor of leaping at her son. Tears stained both of their shirts as they sat there, crying in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity.
The full force of what had happened slammed into him- and his already wrenched sobs became even more howl-like. He had used his quirk- his full quirk- and he was beaten up and scared and everything hurt. He spluttered and attempted to form words, but was shushed by a gentle hum that met his ears warmly. Mom was here- she was here and he was safe and he wasn’t dead somewhere in an alley.
“Izuku honey it’s okay, it’s okay now. Breathe, deep deep breaths, listen to me, okay?” With that, he finally realized he had been on the verge of hyperventilation. Having a panic attack now wouldn’t help anything, so he listened to her and felt her breathing ebb and flow from her warm, gentle chest. He was safe. He was safe.
A hand made its way through his hair, untangling whatever curls it touched. “Izu baby, you know we’re gonna have to talk about this when we get home, right?” She pulled back, examining his bruised face with a gentle look and an even gentler thumb on his cheek.
“I know, mom. C-can it wait for later? I need to shower, and I’m exhausted.” He pulled back further, wiping the dew still left in his glistening eyes, as his mother did the same.
“Of course, I’m taking you to the E.R. now anyways-” a faint scowl crossed his face at this, and she bit her lip subconsciously. “Unless… you would rather wait till the hospital opens at five? Oh Izuku, that’s such a long wait, and your poor face!” Another gentle swipe of a thumb across his jawline had her eyes shining with tears yet again, and he began stuttering for a way to fix that.
“Mom, I’m okay! I’m okay, r-really. I think the worst is p-probably just my knees-” that was far from the truth, considering the pain in his side continued to pulse beneath his shirt. “- and I could really use a shower, and you could really use some sleep, okay? You look, um... exhausted.”
The two were now making their way over to the small, homey Mitsubishi she had abandoned hastily.
She cupped an acknowledging hand around her own cheek in embarrassment, pink-tinted fingers contrasting against the deep bags under her eyes. How long had she been crying? Actually, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
She hadn’t mentioned his quirk yet- hadn’t even flinched back when she had seen the pulsating gold-orange of his eyes and hands. She’d expected this, then… Maybe that would make explaining everything easier.
They got into the car and began driving, Izuku electing to hold his shaking mother’s spare hand as he stared out the window.
Izuku Midoriya’s quirk made itself known at age six; long after he had first thought he was quirkless. The early manifestations of his power emerged in the form of gentle flames licking his skin and the ability to draw a candle’s embers towards himself. Sure, it was nothing special at the time, but he felt so proud of the quirk- his quirk- that he didn’t care how simple it was on the surface.
The teasing and bullying would continue for a long while even after his power appeared, though the blows from one Katsuki Bakugou were largely lessened thanks to Izuku’s ability to snuff out the heat from his palms. This absolutely made him even angrier, but he could no longer supply Izuku’s arms with more faint burn scars- so Izuku kept doing it.
Izuku never liked making Kacchan angry- he didn’t like making anyone angry- but if it could keep him from coming home crying to his poor, overworked mother? He would do it time and time again.
Izuku’s perception of his quirk quickly changed after he turned seven, though- when his true abilities manifested, and he woke up surrounded by frightening, terrifying flames that filled his vision and burned his throat with smoke and oh god he couldn’t breathe-
...That was in the past, now. He doesn’t like thinking about it.
So Izuku Midoriya, age seven, locked away his monstrous power. Quirks gained strength with time, and the idea of being able to do any more damage than what he had already done horrified him.
He trudged on, the load of his burdens remaining unknown to all but his mother. The taunts lessened as the years continued, all save for the ones thrown by Kacchan and his collection of followers- he didn’t think those fights would ever stop, but at this point? He also didn’t think he was really worth defending, anyhow.
Thanks to his quirk, Izuku discovered he was heat resistant. He stopped trying to snuff out Kacchan’s explosions.
Throughout all of this, despite the incident, despite Kacchan’s continued hatred of him, and despite the fact that he never wanted to use his quirk again- something deep, deep inside of Izuku screamed with passion at the thought of being a hero. Saving people mattered; it was something good he, despite his follies and mistakes, could still manage to do.
All he needed to do was to become a hero without using his full quirk- which, according to virtually everyone he had crossed paths with during his short time of not having one, was supposed to be impossible. He would do it, though. He would have to. If he couldn’t? Then the only good part of him would die, and he just couldn’t stand living like that.
Izuku and Inko made a compromise: they would go home, take turns showering, eat a quick meal, and then drag themselves back down to the hospital at 5AM. As soon as the door was swung open, Izuku made his way to his room and face-planted onto his plush comforter. He really, really wanted to just fall asleep and forget about everything- but his bruised jaw burned it’s presence back into his mind at the pressure, and he stood up with a gentle sigh. He plugged his phone in to the charger by his bedside, making sure the screen lit up before making his way to the bathroom.
The torn, blood-stained shirt he wore was pulled off as gently as it could be, so as to avoid irritating his prone face even further. All of his muscles screamed in protest as he slowly undressed, but as soon as he was out of his constraining clothes, he moved towards the shower and turned it as hot as it would go. The heat would disinfect his cuts and scrapes- and though it would surely irritate the bruises marring his skin, he couldn’t really care right now. A hot shower sounded god damned amazing.
After he was clean and his hair was dried as much as it would allow, Izuku redressed and sat on the edge of his bed. He grabbed his phone- the time flashing to life on the screen, reading out Tuesday 2:16 AM in a bold font. He scrolled idly, avoiding the news app staring at him from the corner of the screen- till he remembered the other notifications he hadn’t had the time for earlier, and made his way to the group chat his friends had sent them from.
He began making up a quick excuse for his absence and assuring Kama and Kishi that he was just trying to sleep like a normal person for once in his life. Pink was berating the two others for interrupting his (fake) nap- when Naga suddenly joined the conversation, just sending a row of question marks instead of any actual reply. He giggled as all of his friends jumped to explain what had happened, and sent a quick, “gonna go back to bed” while everyone was still typing.
A gentle call of his name came from the kitchen, sapping his attention back to the real world. The house smelled of tea and stir fry, and he smiled shakily at his mother, making his way behind her to settle his small, frail form onto the plush of hers.
His mouth was pushed against the center of her back, arms wrapped around her waist, so when she asked a simple “would you mind setting the table, Izu?”, he neglected to remember the muffled nature of his voice. Pulling back, and moving towards the cabinet, he let out a small hum of approval instead, and made to place two bowls and the two steaming tea cups on the table.
“By the way, honey-“ mom called to him as she began to take the rice and vegetables off the stove, “I called officer Sansa back on my way to pick you up, and he says they’ll need a statement from you down at the station tomorrow- if you’re okay with that.” She tacked on that last part, sending an understanding expression his way before taking the pot of rice and setting it on the table. She came back a moment later with the bowl of stir fry, and took a seat after she served herself. He carefully portioned his own meal before saying a quiet ‘itadakimasu’ and digging in.
They ate in a comfortable silence. Suddenly, though, Inko placed her chopsticks down beside her half-empty dish, and looked to him with an obvious question on her lips.
“Izuku, honey… It’s been a long while since this happened, okay? I know that look-” he flinched at that, “and you shouldn’t be beating yourself up over this...” She paused, her mouth gaping open for a few moments afterwards, brow furrowed. A sigh escaped her lips, and she rested a hand under her chin. When she brought the other hand up to stroke the tops of his curls, he blushed under the care, but didn’t say anything.
“Baby, can you tell me what happened? I know you’re probably still confused, and I know it’s probably not fun to think about- but, please, Izuku. We just can’t ignore… this.” She gestured vaguely in his direction, and he self consciously toyed with the end of one of the bandages covering his arms.
“M-mom… I know I just,” a sigh, “I’m still piecing everything together, y’know? I can’t remember anything after school got out, it’s just kinda fuzzy and… blank.”
Though this obviously wasn’t the first time this had happened, Izuku still got frustrated over the memory loss his quirk provided. Just another perk of his stupid, useless power.
Her hand halted its descent down his curls, instead finding its way under his chin, and squeezing his dimples playfully.
“Alright, honey. But as soon as you remember something, tell me please, okay? I don’t want you to be alone when you figure out what happened- not this time.” She planted a kiss on his forehead, and shooed him off to the living room despite his insistence on helping with the dishes.
Defeated, Izuku made his way to the couch, and curled up there next to his phone, unplugging it from the charger and plopping down amongst a pile of blankets. Maybe watching tv would help get his mind off all of this…
Flipping through the channels was nice and monotonous. Station after station of sports replays, children’s cartoons, and cooking shows all melted together- Until, suddenly, a word caught his attention, and he flipped back a few channels.
His grip went slack, and the remote clattered to the floor.
“Izuku, what was that? Are you alright in there, dear?” Inko slowly rounded the corner from the small kitchen, staring at her son, who was sitting with his hand still in the air.
“M-m...mom?” he stammered, shaky fingers lifting upwards to rest in a point, “I th-think I know what h-happened.”
The news station flashed a series of clips- a small forest fire raging along the outskirts of Musutafu, the charred remains of an alley, several pictures of melted spots of concrete, and, finally, an interview with a boy with golden-blonde hair. Across the screen, in a large, bold font, were the words, “Villain attack and civilian rescue- possible uncontrollable vigilante at work?” Izuku paled at the words, but didn’t move as the boy on-screen began to speak.
“I thought I was dead, this big, really tall guy came at me with a knife- I think it was that- that one guy who was on the news yesterday? Hammerhead? I can’t really remember.”
The boy looked exhausted; the bags under his eyes rivaled Izuku’s. Actually, now that Izuku was paying attention, he noticed the boy was laying in a hospital bed- a strong hand gently held his shoulder in what seemed a reassuring manner. The boy continued.
“But, uh, yeah. So that guy was there, and I was just on my way home from school, but he came at me and cornered me into the alley- and he had the knife and, and he-” his breath caught for a moment, and the hand patted his shoulder gently. “He was laughing about something- about how the world was cruel, and how he was just doing his job, as a bringer of mayhem, or some shit?” he hissed out, but with a glance off-screen, a slight blush tinted his pallor face. “S-sorry, mom.”
The boy went on, describing the man’s appearance. He kept going- until the interviewer asked about the person who had saved him, and he paused.
“The-... The person who saved me, wished to remain unknown. I didn’t catch a name or anything, but they were skinny, and short, and their eyes were glowing. I- I-” He paused, visibly struggling to find the words he wanted to speak, but slumping in defeat.
The reporter gave him a gentle pat on the hand, and the camera footage faded back to a regular-looking newscast room. The two hosts talked politely, and Inko waited for their verdict on the news with bated breath. They briefly compared the current fires to the wildfires and burning of an entire city block several years back- until an image popped up on the screen of the murderer HammerHead. Izuku let out something akin to a choking noise, grabbing her attention.
Izuku’s hand was finally wrenched from the air, and was now shoved over his mouth. His eyes were blown wide, sweat seeping down his face. He made no move to speak.
“H-honey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Izuku-”
He caught his breath in a violent wave, and hunched over- lightly flinching when his mother’s hands made their way to his back and face.
“I remember, m-mom. I remember what happened last night.”
His shaking hands fell to his knees, clenching his legs with white knuckles.
“Th-that’s- That’s the guy I used my quirk on. And that boy… Was stabbed, right in front of me.”
The news flickered off, and Izuku burst into tears.
He saw red scorch the ground in puddles.
Blood.
A lot of blood.
The boy across from him’s eyes shot forward, gaze fluttering in time with his stilted breaths. The kid clutched his side and arm, before falling to his knees, desperately scrambling backwards. The villain, leaning down to grab the boy by his collar, released a sickening howl of laughter.
Izuku’s bag slammed the concrete long before he knew what had happened.
A small hand snaked its way around the much-larger man’s shoulder, and locked in place there like a vice. The villain turned, smile never faltering, and raised the dagger towards the hand’s owner. Izuku’s face was tilted downwards, breath stuttering to a halt.
“Hey kid, you just gonna stand there and die?”
Izuku’s face stayed in shadow- until a faint glow appeared from somewhere beneath his nose. The man stiffened.
Glowing eyes shot up to greet the villain’s grim expression. Izuku bared his teeth at the man- several sharp fixtures of bone formed into a grin, parted only when the glow gave way to a black, slick substance dripping from his lips. It landed on the concrete- and the man’s shoes- with a deafening sizzle.
“No-” Izuku snarled, voice burning its way into the villain’s ears, “but I guess you are.”
Fire burst forth all around them, and the villain rushed backwards, engulfed from knee-to-toe in crimson flame. The fire shone brightly off of the other boy’s bright, golden hair- and his eyes shut against the scorching light.
Fire bled from between Izuku’s fingers, red and orange with choking heat- now the same color as the magma that dribbled from between his clenched teeth. His typically green-toned hair was iridescent against the cascading tower of flames.
The boy on the ground shook painfully, but his eyes never left the the silhouette of fire in front of him.
The villain slammed back-first into the wall as the flames grew higher, drowning the alley in yellow pillars of heat. Two screams rang out; one choked with stifling pain, the other masked by the thick magma from its owner’s throat.
The thing living beneath his skin burned. He burned back.
He saw red.
Izuku Midoriya - age 14
Quirk - Hellfire