Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya was born quirkless, a rare and unfortunate fate in a society where superpowers—quirks—define a person’s worth. Despite the odds stacked against him, he never let go of his dream: to become a hero, just like his idol, All Might. Now, against all expectations, he has finally earned a place at U.A. High School, one of the most prestigious hero academies in the world. But his journey to this moment was far from easy.
Since childhood, Izuku's life had been a constant struggle. His father left the family not long after he was declared quirkless at the age of four, disappearing to America and never looking back. His mother, devastated by their abandonment, never let Izuku forget that he was the reason his father left. Though he still had a roof over his head, his home was anything but a safe haven. He told himself it could be worse—he had to believe that.
School was no better. His childhood friend, Katsuki Bakugo—nicknamed Kacchan—had an explosive quirk that matched his volatile personality. What had once been a friendship quickly turned into relentless bullying. Teachers, instead of stopping it, encouraged it. After all, who cared about a quirkless kid? No one.
Every day was a battle. Bakugo’s beatings left bruises, his explosions left burns, and when Izuku returned home, he faced more verbal and emotional abuse from his mother. He learned to keep his head down, to stay quiet, to pretend he didn’t exist. He still clung to his dream of becoming a hero, but he stopped telling anyone about it—it only brought him more pain. Over time, the constant ridicule and rejection wore him down. When everyone in your life tells you that you’re worthless, how long before you start believing it?
Things came to a head at the end of middle school when Bakugo found out Izuku wanted to apply to U.A. High. Furious, he gave Izuku one of his worst beatings yet before delivering a final, cruel taunt:
"Take a swan dive off the roof and hope for a quirk in your next life."
Izuku had never seriously considered suicide. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind in passing, but he had never truly entertained it. Even now, he brushed off Bakugo’s words. How could he become a hero if he wasn’t alive? It didn’t make sense.
But fate had something else in store for him that day.
On his way home, he was attacked by a sludge villain—an experience that still haunted his nightmares. The creature nearly suffocated him, consuming his body in a suffocating grip. Just when it seemed hopeless, he was saved by none other than All Might himself.
Meeting his idol left him speechless, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to ask the question that had weighed on his heart for years.
"Do you think someone quirkless can still be a hero?"
For a moment, All Might hesitated, but then his expression darkened.
"No. A quirkless person could never be a hero. How could they possibly defeat a powerful villain? If anything, they would only be a burden, causing more trouble for real heroes."
Those words shattered Izuku. He didn’t remember what happened immediately after. He only knew that somehow, he ended up back on the ground, back to being invisible and insignificant. Yet, when the sludge villain returned and captured Bakugo, something inside him refused to stand by. He ran forward without thinking, throwing himself into danger to save the very person who had tormented him for years.
Of course, he was scolded afterward—the blame, as always, fell on the quirkless kid. He walked home in shame, praying his mother wouldn’t be there to greet him with more disappointment.
But before he could make it home, All Might appeared in front of him, this time with a different answer.
He offered Izuku a chance—an opportunity to inherit his quirk.
All Might explained that his power, One For All , was a stockpiling quirk passed down through eight generations, each successor strengthening it before passing it on. He apologized for his earlier words and told Izuku that he had proven himself worthy of being a hero. If he was willing to train, to push his body beyond its limits, he could inherit One For All .
For the next ten months, Izuku trained relentlessly, building his body into one capable of handling even a fraction of the immense power. And when the time came, he consumed a piece of All Might’s DNA—his hair, of all things—to inherit the quirk.
With his newfound strength, he entered U.A. High’s entrance exam. Though he struggled at first, unable to properly control his quirk, he ultimately passed—earning enough rescue points to secure his place at the academy.
His journey to becoming the world’s greatest hero had finally begun.
It was the weekend before his first day at U.A., and Izuku was on his way to meet All Might for training. Now that school was starting, their sessions would be limited to weekends, but he didn’t mind. Any time spent learning under the Number One Hero was invaluable.
The meeting spot was Dagobah Beach, the same place where Izuku had spent months training to inherit One For All . It had become their go-to location—a quiet, secluded area perfect for practice, with the ocean breeze providing a refreshing coolness after hours of exertion. Just the thought of returning filled him with excitement. Between the intense exams and the shocking revelation that All Might would be teaching at U.A., Izuku could hardly contain his enthusiasm.
As soon as he spotted All Might—shrunken into his true, gaunt form—on the sand, he practically sprinted toward him.
“All— I mean, Yagi!” he called, waving as he ran. He had to use All Might’s real name to avoid suspicion, a habit they had agreed upon when he was in his weakened state.
The skeletal man turned and grinned at him, his sunken eyes warm with pride.
“Hey, young Midoriya! Congratulations on passing the exams!” he beamed, his voice filled with genuine joy.
Izuku couldn’t help but smile in return. “Thank you, Yagi!” His smiles were rare, but when they appeared, they could light up a room.
All Might placed a large, calloused hand on Izuku’s shoulder, his grip firm yet reassuring. For a brief moment, his face darkened, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes before his usual brightness returned.
“Now,” he began, voice steady, “you must remember to follow your training properly. You’ll be nothing but a burden to the other heroes if you break your bones every time you use my quirk.” His fingers tightened slightly on Izuku’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough to drive the point home.
Izuku stiffened. He hadn’t meant to shatter his limbs during the entrance exam. He had tried to follow the training, but the sheer force of One For All was overwhelming. Despite his best efforts, he had failed to control it.
Shame crept into his chest like a heavy weight. He didn’t want to be a burden. He already was one to his mother. Now, was he one to his mentor, too?
His voice was barely above a whisper when he answered, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Yagi. I’ll work harder.”
A strong hand ruffled his dark green curls, breaking through the tension. The gesture was lighthearted, but Izuku still felt the sting of his mentor’s words. He clenched his fists and followed All Might toward the shoreline, determined to prove he was worthy of the power he had been given.
“Today we will start some hand-to-hand combat,” he declared, his voice steady and authoritative. “Show me what you can do, and we will go from there.”
Izuku, standing a few feet away, swallowed hard. He had studied plenty of techniques, watched countless fights, but actual combat was still unfamiliar territory. He clenched his fists and took a hesitant stance, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Taking a deep breath, he lunged forward and threw a punch. Then another. And another. His movements were frantic and uncoordinated, fists swinging wildly. He tried to recall the proper form he had seen professionals use, but his body refused to obey. His footwork was clumsy, his stance wobbly.
All Might watched, arms still crossed, his frown deepening. He let Izuku continue for a moment before sighing. “Young Midoriya, stop.”
Izuku froze mid-punch, sweat beading on his forehead. “Y-Yes, sir?”
All Might shook his head. “Your form is weak. Your stance is all over the place, and your throws lack power. If you fight like that, you’ll be knocked out in seconds.”
Izuku flushed in embarrassment. “I-I’ll try harder!”
“Trying isn’t enough. You need to correct your movements, young Midoriya.” All Might rolled his shoulders and stepped forward. “Again.”
Izuku swallowed and nodded. He adjusted his footing and threw another punch, this time focusing on tightening his form. His arms trembled slightly as he tried to mimic All Might’s strength and precision, but his movements still felt sluggish and awkward. His punches lacked impact, barely making a sound against the air.
All Might’s patience wore thin. His sharp eyes tracked every mistake, every misplaced step. Minutes passed, and Izuku still struggled to get it right. His body wasn’t used to this kind of training, and his mind was drowning in overanalysis.
All Might exhaled sharply. “Damn it, young Midoriya! You’re overthinking everything! Just move! Attack with confidence!”
Izuku flinched at the harsh tone but nodded determinedly. He tightened his fists and tried again, pushing forward with renewed focus. But the moment he moved, his balance wavered.
All Might clenched his jaw. “No, no, no! You’re still doing it wrong! You need to—”
His frustration boiled over. Without thinking, he reached out and delivered a quick backhand to the back of Izuku’s head. It wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but the force sent Izuku stumbling forward.
Izuku blinked in shock, rubbing the back of his head. He looked up at All Might, eyes wide with confusion.
“Wake up, Midoriya!” All Might barked. “You can’t afford to be this weak! You want to be a hero? Then act like one!”
Izuku bit his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat. His hands curled into fists once more, his body aching but his determination burning stronger. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.
“Yes, sir,” he said, voice firm. He wouldn’t give up—not now, not ever.
They continued training for another thirty minutes before All Might finally called it off. Izuku stood there for a moment, catching his breath, before silently heading home.
Something felt... off.
All Might had never spoken to him like that before. Never looked at him with such disappointment. Never laid a hand on him. Not that Izuku wasn’t used to that—he had endured far worse from others—but he hadn’t expected it from him .
Then again... maybe he deserved it.
He hadn’t followed instructions properly. He was being reckless. Useless. Like always.
Useless fucking Deku.
He swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in his throat. He couldn’t cry. If his mother saw, it would only make things worse.
As he approached his apartment complex, his heart sank at the sight of a familiar car parked outside.
Shit.
His mother was home.
She usually wasn’t. If she wasn’t working, she was almost always at the Bakugos’ house, spending time with Mitsuki, Katsuki’s mother. Mitsuki had always been kind to him—never raised her voice, never laid a hand on him—but it had been years since he’d been welcome there. Since Kacchan stopped being his friend.
Izuku hesitated, gripping the strap of his backpack so tightly his knuckles turned white. Something felt wrong.
Taking a shaky breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“H-Hi, Mom,” he greeted carefully, his voice quiet as he tried to gauge her mood.
His mother stood in the living room, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “Good afternoon, Izuku,” she said, her tone cold and measured.
“I-I thought you’d be at the B-Bakugos’...” he stammered.
Her eyes flashed. “It is none of your business where I am,” she snapped.
Izuku flinched.
“I’m here because All Might just called me,” she continued, her voice laced with irritation. “He says you need to practice more .” Her gaze hardened. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? To have the Number One Hero tell me that my son is weak? That you’re so pathetic even the Symbol of Peace is disappointed in you?”
Izuku’s breath hitched.
Disappointed.
The word struck harder than any punch Bakugo had ever thrown.
He opened his mouth, trying to explain, trying to say something , but the words stuck in his throat.
“I-I wa—”
The sharp crack of a slap cut him off.
His head snapped to the side, the sting radiating across his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut, keeping his face turned away, refusing to look at her. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back. He had to.
“Now you listen to him, or you’ll regret being such a burden to everyone!” she hissed.
His whole body trembled, but he forced himself to nod.
“Y-Yes, M-Mom,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Then, without another word, he turned and bolted to his room, shutting the door behind him with shaking hands.
He pressed his back against it, sliding down to the floor as his breath came in quick, uneven gasps.
He had to be better.
He had to stop being a burden.
Because if even All Might saw him as worthless... what was left?
Izuku locked his door, his fingers trembling as he set his backpack down in its usual spot. Without another thought, he slumped onto the floor, pressing his back against the side of his bed. His breathing hitched as he clamped a hand over his mouth, but it did little to muffle the quiet sobs that wracked his body.
Everything he had held together all day—the shame, the hurt, the exhaustion—finally came crashing down.
He had learned to endure Kacchan’s bullying. He had learned to live with his mother’s harsh words and cold indifference. But now, All Might —the one person who had given him hope, the Symbol of Peace—was disappointed in him too.
That, he couldn’t handle.
How could I be so stupid?
How did I ever think I was worth his help?
Why did I believe I was worthy of being his successor?
The sobs came harder, his shoulders shaking violently as his self-loathing grew heavier, suffocating.
Even All Might thinks you’re useless.
Useless Deku.
He regrets giving you HIS quirk.
“N-No… that’s n-not t-true,” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking.
“He w-wouldn’t t-train me i-if he thought t-that was true…”
But the words felt hollow.
Tears soaked the fabric of his pants as he buried his head against his knees, crying until his throat was raw and his chest ached from the effort. But when the tears finally stopped, the pain inside remained, heavy and unbearable.
With movements as numb as the rest of him, he reached under his bed, fingers curling around the familiar tin hidden beneath. He slid it out, popping open the lid as if on autopilot. His sleeve was already halfway up his arm before he even realized what he was doing.
Faint lines—some old, some fresh—marred his pale skin. A silent testament to every moment he had felt like this before.
The blade, cold against his fingertips, traced over the existing scars.
This was the only comfort he had. The only thing that made the ache bearable.
And he didn’t expect to stop anytime soon.
That night, sleep never came.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, too hollow to process any thoughts, too exhausted to even try. His mind drifted in and out of a haze, but one thought remained.
Tomorrow is the start of U.A.
Please… let it be better than this.
Please… let All Might not give up on me.
He would do anything— anything —to prove he wasn’t a mistake.