Chipped fingernails, grime laces atop burnt hands. Scratches tear at his palm, pushing and prodding and teasing, his wound is cauterized, searing flesh burnt to a pink-purple. Black dances along the edges, his skin has become like ash. Izuku hunches his shoulders and curls into his chest. His heart tears at his ribcage. A monster breathes smoke into his lungs, he has learnt to stop breathing.

Today he learns that making his own pain is better as a distraction, so when Kacchan burns him, he bites his lips so hard they bleed, iron is tangy and bitter, but it's better than the pain Kacchan causes, he decides. Kacchan doesn't notice that he always has a busted lip to go with the rest of his bruises and burns. It's all part of the process. (It hurts a little less every time, his pain tolerance is beyond human, his friends would say in three future.)

Kacchan tells him that he should kill himself today, it's not the first time, and it's definitely not going to be the last. He calls him Deku, because that's what he is, worthless. Deku. Mom doesn't ask him why he has purple marring half his face today. She doesn't ask why the sleeves of his uniform have ash fluttering off of them and why his hands are covered in scars and burns. About why his smile has slowly become more scarce and why he screams in the middle of the night. She must have gotten so tired of his lies. (Stupid, stupid, stupid.)

She smiles at him and makes dinner. Ignoring the crack of a bottle and shrieking in the next room. She tells him that she'll get gone for a week.

They eat stale sandwiches but anything tastes amazing when Mom is here to lighten the mood, she says sorry. He doesn't know why she didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't her fault he is weak and worthless; it isn't her fault he's a Deku.

Deku's aren't heroes, either.

He wears long sleeves even though it's warm and laughs because he can cry when she leaves to work again in the morning. For now, he'll enjoy her company. (He'll never tell her, but she knows that he's in so much pain and she cries because what kind of mother leaves their child when they are getting burnt?)

Mom says she's sorry things have to be this way, she's sorry that he has to trip in the hallway, that be has to walk in torn shoes and breath polluted air.

"It isn't your fault," He says. "the world is picky with its kindness. We were just an unlucky bunch."

She cries to him, "When did my baby grow up?"

He wants to cry too, that he was never a child. That fate stole that chance from him when he had a second joint. That fate is a mistress too cruel for his fragile mind, and that karma is unfortunate to its dwellers. "I'm not that old!"

She wipes the tears from her eyes. Cheeks sunken in and eyes wide and ghastly, skin hanging off hollow bone. She is beautiful, even at the worst of days. "I know sweety, I know."

_

The first week of junior high has gone before he can blink, nothing has changed. He comes home with bruises and burns and a broken finger. Nothing has changed, Bakugou never apologizes.

Maybe they're still kids. (He hasn't done anything wrong, if he did the teachers would tell him so.)

(They watch though, they snicker at him, "That's what the quirkless shit gets.")

Maybe they still play by worn out bridges and broken dams, wandering through the forest as though it's a wonderland as far as the eye can feel. Bound by imagination. Izuku does not go outside unless it is to help the people that are not as lucky as him. Those who don't have straw beds and cracked roofs and blaring alarms.

Fate may be cruel, but Izuku remains kind. The curve of his eyes and the shaking if his hands, his ears are burnt and his hands are numb. Pocket change clangs in tin cans and broken smiles are handed out for free. He gives his coat to a woman that reminds him too much of his mother, all hollow bone and cracked lips and sunken skin. She cries to him in thanks, he says he's sorry he can't do more. That nobody deserves this pain. Not even the devil themself. "You are too kind, kid. It's going to kill you."

"I know," He says, words blending with the clatter of horns and the wind. "I know."

She laughs sadly at him, it's wet with the tears she's choking back, he knows the feeling. Bile crawls in his mouth. "Just stay safe, kid."

"I- I will. And I'll b-be fine. I p-promise."

Izuku does not say anything. He zips him tongue in his mouth and tries not to cry. Tears seam to fall anyway, he does not sob like he used to, he has learnt to keep quiet.

A drunk sleeps at the foot of his apartments' doorstep. He sighs, tiptoeing over and carefully walking in, making sure the key doesn't snap in the lockbox.

His too small room is blank. Devoid of the posters that used to line the walls. He sold them―they were running low on money, and he didn't really need them.

The house is empty, nothing makes a sound (except the loose tiles on the floor) as he walks to his desk. He locks to door behind him. Paranoia weaves in his stomach, taunting him with something terrible. A twisting that pushes harder and harder until he throws up.

He wonders if things would still be this way if Dad didn't leave. He wonders if things would be different if he had a quirk. He wonders if things would be this way if he wasn't a (pathetic, useless, pitiful, moronic, waste of air. Just kill yourself already you dammed) Deku.

"I wonder," He says to the emptiness around him, it never says anything back. "if Kacchan is the hero," The wind creaks through his window, a chill creeps up his spine. His eyes are shining with the tears he's held back for too long.

"am I doomed to be the villain?" He looks at his hands. Scarred and broken, a bruise curls around his finger, he snaps it back into place. It hurts, but the pain is practiced.

"No." He whispers to the void. "I'll never be the villain. I'll never hurt anyone. I'll save them."

(Do you really think you can save anyone, Deku? God, you're so pathetic. Kac― Bakugou's voice roars in his head.)

"I won't be like Dad, or Kacchan―"

He ties his pinkies together, a promise to himself.

"―I'll save everyone. So Mom can be happier. So that nobody is sad anymore. So that nobody is bitter, so people don't hurt enough to be villains. To stop people like Kacchan. To help people like Mom."

Darkness blankets his mind. He does not sleep.

The laughter in his head is too much. (Do you really think you can do anything, Deku?)