Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya had always wondered what it would feel like to be normal.
Not normal in the way everyone else used the word, because according to them, being Quirkless was anything but normal. He meant normal in the sense that he could wake up in the morning without immediately remembering that there was something missing inside him. Something everyone else had. Something that had been handed to them before they were even old enough to understand what it meant. He wanted to know what it was like to walk into a room without wondering whether people were staring at him because he was different. He wanted to stop hearing the doctor's voice in his head, stop seeing his mother's expression when she realized what the diagnosis meant, stop remembering the way his childhood dream had slowly become something people laughed at.
But most of all, Izuku wanted to know what it felt like to be allowed to dream.
He had tried to ignore the laughter.
He had tried to ignore the whispers.
He had tried to ignore Katsuki Bakugo.
For years, he had convinced himself that Bakugo's words didn't matter. That being called Deku was just something he had to put up with. That the constant teasing, the insults, and the little reminders that he was different were simply part of growing up.
Sometimes he wanted his life back to how it was in kindergarten. All of his friends bonding. No thoughts wanting to be the best. Just friendship. It all went down hill when Bakugo got his quirk. He had the strongest quirk in his class and being best friends with the weakest boy in the whole school wasn't good for everyone feeding into his ego. Bakugo still hung out with him. Just not in a friendly way. More as like a pawn. When they reached middle school that was the end of their friendship.
It was a rainy day, 4:30 after school at Aldera Junior High. Deku was still inside of his last class. He was waiting for Bakugo and his buddies to leave the school so he could go home peacefully and not open his mouth to beg. It was so irritating. How everyday he had to avoid going home and relaxing because he was a victim of Bakugo's torment. Someday that'll end. He'll grow stronger and better than Bakugo and one day overcome him. He'll beat him. And Bakugo would be too scared to ever mess with him again.
"Deku!- Hah. Hiding away again?"
Deku blinked up from the notebook he'd been writing in. He was watching the news on his phone, seeing the news reporters explain the heroes quirks that were saving citizens lives a few miles over. Deku quickly turned his phone off and closed his book, putting them both inside of his backpack.
"Leave me alone Kacchan."
Bakugo stood beside his desk, his hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar, irritating grin spreading across his face
"You're still doing this? It's been years Deku. Just admit you'll never be anything special.”
"I'm never gonna admit that. I beileve I...!-"
"How dumb can you get."
"You know no matter how many notes on quirks you write and talk about being a hero and getting into UA you never will. Why are you doing that just to disappoint yourself and others. Y'know what Auntie will think? She'll think she gave birth to a nothing son and die alone and sad once you die on battle."
"Y'know what happens to people like you who play hero? They die deku."
"So why don't you stop being such a waste of space and go take a swan dive off the rooftop. maybe in your next life you'll be born with a quirk."
Bakugo's words hung heavily. Deku froze, his hands gripping onto the strap of his backpack. His body felt heavy. Every limb in his body couldn't move as he felt he'd fall over onto his knees. No.
No.
He couldn't let Bakugo make him feel this way AGAIN. The torment he had given to him for all the years of his life that he could remember. All those insults Bakugo had given him, all those thoughts that he has had himself about not being good or special like everyone else. They all vanished.
"How about you take your own advice."
Bakugo's body tensed up as veins showed up in his neck. Why is he talking back?! In a sudden rush Bakugo lunged forward, his explosion catching Deku square in the shoulder. Fabric flamed for a second but then was unlit just as fast as it was lit : and Deku crashed backward into a row of desks. The metal frames creaked against the floor.
Deku didn't scramble backward this time. The smell of his own burned flesh filled his nose, triggering something raw and feral deep inside him. Before Bakugo could reset his stance, Izuku surged forward. He didn't use a clean punch. He threw his entire body weight into Katsuki’s midsection, driving them both to the hard floor. Katsuki’s head bounced off the ground with a sickening thud. The breath left him in a sharp wheeze, but his instincts were vicious. He brought his hands up, blasting a blind explosion directly into Izuku’s ribs. The heat washed over Izuku, blackening his uniform and searing his skin, but Izuku refused to let go. He choked down a scream, blinded by pain, and drove his forehead straight down into Katsuki’s nose.
The sound of cartilage breaking was loud in the quiet room. Blood erupted from Katsuki’s nose, blinding them both as it splattered between them. Katsuki yelled, swinging wildly, his knuckles grazing Izuku’s cheek and tearing the skin open.
But Izuku was entirely numb to the pain now. He pinned Katsuki’s right wrist with his knee, using every ounce of his weight. With a trembling, blood-slicked hand, Izuku grabbed a heavy plastic binders from a spilled backpack nearby and slammed the rigid spine down across Katsuki’s hand.
Katsuki gasped, his fingers spasmming as the bone in his wrist groaned under the blunt impact.
Now the only thing that was happening was the heavy breath of both Deku and Bakugo. Along with the sharp coughs and grunts of pain from Bakugo coughing up his own blood.
Deku was sitting there on the floor. His ears ringing and his vision blurry. He looked down at Bakugo. He was covered in blurry blood, he couldn't hear his coughs due to his ears ringing and he couldn't see him breath because of his vision. Did he...
Kill him?...
No!
No it cant be, it was just a petty fight and Bakugo started it like he always does! He can't be...theirs no way. He's so strong how could he just give up just like that!
Before he could even realize he was running outside. Rain falling over his skin and bloody clothes. Blood ran down his head and his arms. The once ruby red blood that dripped from his limbs turned into a pale pink that had stained onto his skin. He stumbled forwards, his knees giving out as he collapsed into he mud. The cold rain soaked through his clothes. He felt everything yet nothing at the same time. He still feels the binder inside of his hands. The crunch of Bakugo's bones and the silence that had followed.
He stared down at his hands, the rain had washed away the blood, turning the puddles beneath him a sickening pink.
What did I do?
A sob broke through his throat. He had scrambled back toward a nearby alleyway, dragging himself through the mud and the jagged rocks.
"Please let Kacchan be okay. Please have him wake up. let him blame me, let his yell and blast at me just let him live."
A hollow emptiness settled over the alleyway. For the first time since he could remember, Izuku wasn't trembling because of fear. He looked down on his hands-The hands that stood up for himself, and as a result-caused this. He wasted for the crushing weight of remorse to kill him. He had awaited for the grief to come. Because Bakugo had been a friend at some point. But all the memories seemed to disappear of him in that moment.
But that moment never came.
Instead, a cold and quiet wave of relief washed over him. The air in his lungs felt lighter. The constant anxiety that he had had since he was four years old had suddenly vanished.
He wasn't 'sorry'. He was just glad that the torment was over.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. Izuku gasped to himself as his cold yet clammy hands flew to his mouth as he let out a sharp gasp. Why wasn't he sorry?
He thought back to Bakugo's blurry yet limp body, panic rising in his chest. Not because of the crime he committed but for the cruel feeling in his heart. Normal kids wouldn't have felt this way over a childhood friend getting hurt. True heroes wouldn't feel at peace standing over a fallen body. He was supposed to be at mourning. Screaming for help, running to a hero for help or doing anything to fix what he did.
He wasn't crying for Bakugo anymore. He was crying because he knew that he didn't feel bad about this. And that terrified him more that anything else.