Chapter Text
Izuku never understood why everyone at school was always so excited to go home at the end of the day. Staying in school sounded like a much better idea to him. At school he could learn, and he could have really awesome lunches. They even had coloring books and crayons! He didn’t get any of that at home. He wasn’t even allowed to ask why, either. Though, lately his teachers had stopped trying to make him interact with the other kids. Some of the kids even whispered behind his back. Katsuki was even being distant recently, though Izuku never stopped acting like he always did around the explosive blonde.
Today, however, was the first time he noticed a real difference between them. Today, Katsuki, Izuku’s Kacchan, had used his quirk on Izuku. Izuku had a bright red and itchy mark on his left arm. It was painful, but his teachers had told him to leave it alone when he’d tried to scratch it. They didn’t even give him a bandaid! One even scolded him for provoking Katsuki. Izuku wasn’t sure what ‘provoking’ meant, though.
When the bell rang, Katsuki ran out ahead of everyone and Izuku watched as Auntie Mitsuki picked him up in her arms and carried him off down the street. Izuku’s parents never picked him up. Sometimes Auntie Mitsuki would walk him home while carrying Katsuki, but maybe Katsuki didn’t want to walk home together today. Izuku understood. His mom was nice. Auntie was so amazing and sweet, he could understand Katsuki wanting to keep his mom all to himself sometimes.
Izuku tugged his shoes on slowly and started his walk home. It wasn’t a long walk, but he had to cross a few big roads. He walked at a slow pace, trying to make his walk take as long as humanly possible so he wouldn’t have to go back to his apartment, to his parents. The memory of their voices shouting at him made him twitch, and almost fall off the curb he was walking on. Taking a breath, Izuku leaned on a fence and tried to calm himself down.
“Get in the closet!” “Shut up!” “Don’t you dare show your face in my kitchen!” “What do you want, child?”
Izuku shook his head, trying to escape their voices. Everything hurt and he didn’t know why. He couldn’t explain why his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it. Izuku couldn’t understand why the words made his chest scream or his ears ring. It all felt like so much, too much, like his whole body was overflowing and he didn’t have enough buckets to catch all the water.
By the time he finally calmed down, he’s crumpled a large fist of fabric from his uniform in his hand. She would be angry, but Izuku didn’t have the energy to care today. He could deal with it. He just needed to breathe, to calm down. Eventually, his feet started to move again.
“Where the hell have you been!?” Inko Midoriya’s voice screeched from down the hall. Izuku had just closed the door behind himself; he hadn’t even taken off his shoes yet. “Answer me, child!”
After he turned four, his parents never used his name anymore. He was ‘child’ or ‘boy’, never Izuku. It was but one more thing Izuku didn’t understand. He knew he had to answer when given a direct order, but it was so hard to force his throat to unclench so he could speak.
“I’m… sorry, Okaasan. The teacher requested help cleaning up after school.” He’d learned to lie at a very young age. If he told her he was walking slowly, she’d make him hurt more. It was easier to tell her something he made up in his head, and hope she didn’t try to verify the information he gave her.
Regardless of the lie, Inko walked over and laid a vicious slap across Izuku’s cheek. He barely flinched, keeping his eyes on the ground in between them.
“You are to come directly home after school. Get situated.”
‘Situated’ - that’s what his parents called it when he came home. Izuku knew it was so their neighbors didn’t hear the truth. He was starting to understand that even if he didn’t really have words for what he felt - he did have words for what his parents did .
Izuku toed off his shoes and set them neatly in his spot, behind the door and out of the way. Above that was a small hook with a non-descript back bag. He took the bag down and tugged out the large leather muzzle his parents made him wear whenever he was in the house. It was a recent addition to his daily routine, only having been put in place since his eighth birthday. It was, in fact, his birthday present. Izuku wrapped the device around his head and turned his back to Inko, letting her strap and latch it. She locked the device with a key she always wore around her wrist, only unlocking it when he left for school each morning.
No one ever asked why Izuku had little lines on his face that usually faded by lunchtime each day.
Once the muzzle was in place, Izuku took a pair of gloves from the bag and put them on, along with a fresh pair of socks that were set by the door by himself each morning. He was not allowed to wear his ‘dirty’ socks into the house when he came home, and he was not allowed to touch anything with his bare hands. Izuku was not allowed to speak. Izuku was not allowed to exist. Izuku was quirkless, he was worthless, he was supposed to be invisible.
Izuku was supposed to be seen, and not heard, or better yet - neither.
“Go.” Inko ordered. Izuku obeyed, carrying himself with practiced stealth through the apartment towards his bedroom. The room itself was sparse, with only a desk for him to do school work, a chair for the desk, and a bed. All of his clothing fit in the closet. He owned only school uniforms and three sets of clothing for when he wasn’t at school.
He quickly changed out of his uniform and set it into the laundry basket right outside his door. Inko washed his uniform every day - she refused to allow his ‘quirkless germs’ to remain in her house longer than necessary. Finding his favorite outfit - a loose t-shirt and some comfy sweatpants - Izuku curled up on his bed with the only comfort item he had. It was a small blanket that had a smattering of heroes on it. Inko had bought it on his third birthday when he told her he wanted to become a hero. It had All Might, and Crimson Riot, and even Eraserhead and Present Mic. There were another fifteen other heroes on the blanket, but those were Izuku’s favorites. The spots with his favorites were well worn from his hands rubbing or fiddling with the blanket to soothe himself on rough nights.
The front door clattered open and slammed shut. Izuku’s heart raced in his chest, so loud he thought it might give his position away. He scurried off the bed and tucked himself beneath it, buried all the way at the back against the wall.
Tonight will be a rough night. When Hisashi came home loudly, it was always a rough night. He tried not to panic. If he stayed quiet, and didn’t try to find any dinner, then Hisashi usually forgot he existed and didn’t bother Izuku.
Of course, the universe must hate Izuku today. Because it wasn’t enough that Katsuki’s quirk burned him today, Hisashi had to come barreling through Izuku’s door like a herd of cattle. Izuku’s breathing picked up, and he was scared Hisashi might hear him. He quickly clamped both hands over the muzzle to try and stifle the sounds.
“Inko! Where’s the boy!?”
“In his room, where do you think?! Why do you want that germy nuisance anyway?!” Inko was shouting from across the apartment. Izuku wondered sometimes how none of their neighbors complained about the noise. Maybe his parents had put something in the walls to prevent others hearing them?
“Well I don’t see him! Boy, get out here, now! If you don’t, I’ll make it ten times worse.”
Izuku knew better than to deny that tone of voice. As he crawled out from under the bed (after hiding his comfort blanket at the back of the darkened space), a burst of bitter smell hit Izuku’s nose. Hisashi had been drinking again. Hopefully this time Izuku wouldn’t end up with a piece of glass in his arm or his head. Before he even got fully out from under the bed, Hisashi grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his feet. The back of his legs scraped the bedframe and Izuku cried out in pain, muffled against the muzzle on his face.
“Oh you want to complain, haaah?” Hisashi smacked him. The muzzle thankfully took most of the hit and saved Izuku what likely would have been a bruise. But Hisashi was back again in a second, grabbing the muzzle and yanking it down roughly. Again, he knew better than to speak unless asked directly, even with the muzzle removed. He knew what was coming, but he didn’t think he had the strength to keep quiet this time. It hurt too much.
“What have you got to complain about, boy? Answer me.”
Tears finally started to freely stream down Izuku’s face. He couldn’t hold them back anymore. Usually, it was easy. He just took the hits, kept quiet, and in the morning he could go back to school and be away from these people for a few hours. Everyday, he held out for those few hours of freedom, of life without shouting and pain. But today - that had changed. Today he was finally treated like this at school. So when Hisashi demanded an answer to the same question he asked every time he drank, Izuku couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Why do you all hate me?!” He screamed, confusion and pain rippling through his voice. Hisashi froze, shocked Izuku had even produced a sound that large. He hadn’t spoken above a murmur since he got the muzzle last year. He wasn’t allowed to, even when he was ordered to speak. Instantly, he knew he’d messed up. He’d messed up so bad.
Izuku’s hands tugged at the muzzle, trying to put it back on his mouth. It was useless, Hisashi had yanked it down past his chin, so without unlocking it, he couldn’t slip it back on. His face was red and scratched up from where Hisashi had yanked, but he couldn’t feel it. All Izuku could feel was terror. Hisashi was silent, deathly so. That was very bad, very very bad.
“What did you say, boy?” Izuku froze in the man’s arms, a single shaky breath betraying his panic. “You think you deserve our love? When you’re nothing but a waste of space? A waste of air, money, time, and energy? You think a worthless piece of Null garbage like you gets the right to anything but disgust and contempt?!”
Izuku whimpered, trying desperately to break free from Hisashi’s hands. There was nothing he could do. He was too small, too weak, too useless.
Smoke was pouring from Hisashi’s mouth, his lips parted in an angry sneer. Izuku was in danger of serious pain if he couldn’t get free. But why should he even try? Maybe Hisashi was right. Maybe he did deserve everything that happened to him. Maybe he was just worthless.
Hisashi brought his gloved hand to his mouth and flames erupted to the side of Izuku’s face, warming his skin but not burning him yet. The fire was directed at the man’s own glove. Izuku knew they were support gear. They worked with his quirk. They could be heated up to allow Hisashi to use his hands and his fire as a weapon. A weapon he was now going to turn on Izuku.
When the glove was almost glowing orange, Hisashi’s dark red eyes sparked at Izuku with devious glee. Izuku never hated the color red so much in his life. After a split second staring each other down - Izuku with fear in his eyes and Hisashi with untamed excitement - Izuku’s vision went white.
He screamed, wild and agonized. Hisashi’s palm was cupping the left side of his face, covering half of his mouth. The pain got worse and worse, but it never dulled. Izuku knew Hisashi had done this on purpose. He’d given Izuku a milder burn so it would hurt worse. He’d given Izuku a few nasty burns over the last few years, but when they were too deep or too hot, it killed the nerves and Izuku’s pain wouldn’t last long. Of course, that didn’t give Hisashi any entertainment, or so Izuku assumed.
Inko came into the room, slamming the bedroom door against the wall.
“What are you doing, Hisashi!? Stop it! You’ll kill the child!”
Izuku knew it wasn't a concern for his well being. No, it was concern for getting caught, for being seen as the ugly monsters they were when they haunted Izuku’s dreams. Inko’s hands were grabbing Izuku, pulling the two apart. Izuku collapsed to the floor, clutching his searing face. It was so hot, he couldn’t even touch his own skin. The muzzle had gotten caught in the crossfire of Hisashi’s quirk and been burnt off his neck, which was a blessing and a curse. He’d likely be blamed for Inko having to buy a new one.
“Get out!” someone was knocking on the front door, loudly. “Get out, leave. Never come back. If you do, they’ll arrest you. You’re already a wanted man, I can’t deal with anymore of your bullshit.”
“You useless woman. I should have left you years ago.”
“You just wanted the government money we get for having a worthless Null in the house.”
“Bitch.” Hisashi stormed out of the room.
Izuku doesn’t have much in the way of memory as to what happened next. It was a blur. There was Inko, feigning fear and worry. Maybe he saw the colors for paramedics, a jacket or something? Lots of people talking, Inko crying(read:acting) and saying her husband came home drunk and attacked her son. Her son . Izuku hadn’t heard that word in years. Someone tried to ask him questions but Izuku only needed one quick glance at her to know he wasn’t allowed to speak. She explained he was non-verbal and sickly. They asked him a few yes or no questions, to which Izuku either nodded or shook his head. Inko seemed satisfied with his responses.
Darkness enveloped Izuku as he crawled back under his bed once the house quieted down again. He heard the floating promises from the police officers. They’d catch her husband. He would answer for his crimes. The child should see a doctor in the morning. He shouldn’t go back to the same school - in case his ‘father’ came back.
Izuku closed his eyes and wrapped himself in his hero blanket. He wished he could go to sleep and never wake up. But that isn’t how sleep worked, right? Izuku knew that, but for some reason, the thought wouldn’t leave his mind. He just wanted to sleep forever and forget this reality.
Izuku woke to the sound of someone kicking his bed frame.
“Get up, child.” Inko’s voice was seething. “Get out here, now.”
Izuku hid the blanket again and scurried out from under the bed. This time, no one grabbed him. He stood before Inko while keeping his eyes on the floor. He was so sore. Everywhere was sore. Most of that was from sleeping under a cramped bed. But his face was also throbbing and stinging. It itched beyond belief just like his arm. Izuku had to force himself to resist scratching at it.
“There’s a first aid kit on the table. You’ll clean the burn every day and replace the bandages. You know how. If that gets infected, you’ll only cost me more money. You’ll wear face masks when you leave the house from now on. You will tell everyone you were diagnosed with a lung disorder and you have to wear it because you are sickly and weak. I’ll send you in with a note today so the teachers don’t ask questions.”
Inko was good at giving direct orders, she always had been. Izuku nodded at the end of each direction, as always.
“You are never to speak of that wound or show anyone the scar it will surely make. There will be a new muzzle by the time you get home today. However, if you behave and get home on time and keep your mouth shut, you can keep it off until the burn heals. This isn’t a reward. I just don’t feel like risking it getting infected. But if you fail to follow the rules, you will be punished. Do I make myself clear? Answer me.”
“Yz, m'm.” Izuku answered immediately, his voice broken and raspy. It might only be a short relief, and only because Inko didn’t want any more medical bills, but even so - it was a relief to not have to wear the muzzle for just a little while.
“Get ready. If you’re late for school, the deal breaks.”
Izuku hurried off to the bathroom as Inko left the room. His stomach growled angrily as he showered and dressed, begging for food. So long as he wasn’t being punished, he should find his usual oatmeal bowl at the table. He was slightly shocked that it was there when he came out in a fresh uniform. It was sitting, steaming, next to a first aid kit and a handwritten note. Alongside that was one of those medical masks, the fabric kind - not the disposable kind. It was deep green and matched his hair perfectly. It would sell the act, Izuku knew that.
Quickly, he set to peeling off the bandage the paramedics had placed on his face last night. He realized just how painful the burn was as his fingers inched the tape off a tiny bit at a time. His lips felt almost glued together by all the thick medical cream they put on. Izuku carefully dabbed it all off and cleaned the surface of his burnt skin. Then he reapplied some burn cream Inko had left out for him. Lastly, he put a fresh bandage on and then the fabric mask overtop. It hid most of the scar but there was an issue - it didn’t hide the bottom that peeked out down his neck.
Izuku looked around, finding Inko cooking in the kitchen. He wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. Walking over to the entryway of the room, he knocked lightly on the doorway.
“What?” She asked, her tone uninterested.
Izuku tilted his head backwards and pointed at his neck. He waited. Inko took a moment to set down her cooking utensils and look over at what Izuku was showing her.
“Hmm.” Was all she said. Wiping her hands on a towel, she shoved him out of the way as she left the kitchen. Izuku steadied himself and waited by the door. He’d already tidied up the medical supplies and left his empty oatmeal bowl in the bin on the counter where he was required to. “Here.” She came back with what looked like a scarf, but it was a solid loop and looked like it went over the head. “It’s called an infinity scarf. Use that for now, I’ll look into getting you something else more permanent.”
Izuku bowed his head and scurried towards the door.
Once the teacher read Inko’s note, Izuku was given only a withering look and waved into the classroom. None of the other students asked him why he was wearing a mask and scarf, or why he was allowed to since it wasn’t part of their uniform. He was left alone all day, no one spoke to him and the teachers never called on him. He was given a coloring book and crayons at lunch and told to sit quietly in the afternoon and color. So he did.
He did hear a few whispers from students as they passed his table, a table he was now made to sit alone at. The teacher said since he was sick, he had to sit by himself so he wouldn’t get more ill from the stronger students who were immune to germs he might be weak to. He hated the idea of people thinking he was so weak that he could die from just breathing someone else’s air, but he also didn’t want to tell the truth. He didn’t want to get caught with a giant burn wound on his face, or have to explain how he got it, or why his parents hated him. Honestly, Izuku wasn’t even sure he could explain that one outside of just being quirkless.
The day went by in relative peace, though Izuku felt… lonely. He’d never felt that before. Not really. At home, sure. But he’d always had Katsuki as company when he left the house. Now, Katsuki was staring at him like he might fall apart in a strong breeze. There was also some kind of anger in that glare, too. No… no, not anger. A word Izuku had only heard once before - resentment. It was the biggest word he knew, but his parents often said things like that. Similar words like disgust, and hate, and dislike. Inko once explained that she blamed him for ruining her life, her career. She resented him.
Now, Katsuki did, too. Katsuki was right. He always was, after all. It was Izuku’s fault. Because he was quirkless, they couldn’t become the Wonder Duo. Maybe that’s why Katsuki had started to distance himself recently. Now that Izuku was almost nine, there was almost no chance he’d develop a quirk. Even if he was a false positive, most of those kids got their quirk by the time they were eight or ten. He had maybe two years to hope something came in, but Izuku honestly doubted it would. He accepted his fate last night, when Hisashi branded his face. Brand, another big word Izuku had learned when he once asked a librarian if burns had another word.
Normally, Izuku would speak to Katsuki during the day. He’d speak to a few of the other classmates. But today, he decided that speaking hurt too much. Anytime he saw that look in Katsuki’s eyes, his whole throat clamped shut and it was almost impossible to breathe. Maybe it would be better if he just took up the position of being seen and not heard completely. Izuku set down the bright blue crayon he was using and started to pack up his work. It was almost time to leave and if he wasn’t on time, Inko would punish him and put the muzzle on over the already really sore burn on his face.
Thankfully, he didn’t hit any long waits at crosswalks on the way home and he arrived early for the first time in a long time. Inko didn’t even greet him. That was good. If she didn’t come to the door when he entered, it meant he hadn’t messed up. There was even a plate of food at his place on the table. Izuku knew this was just how she was after Hisashi hurt him, every time. The 'kindness' would end in a couple days - but Izuku would eat it up while he got it. Plus, if he was careful, he might be able to extend it a couple days while his wound healed.
After he ate and put his plate in the bin, Izuku snuck to his room silently to disappear for the night and follow his routine. Once his uniform was in the laundry basket and he was changed into night clothes, Izuku settled down on his bed. He had a tablet for school research but his parents had never bothered to even look at it. Since the school issued them, they only warned him once to take care of it or he’d suffer for the cost. He pulled up a new tab on the internet and started researching local gyms and athletic centers.
Izuku knew if he wanted to have any hope of someday protecting himself from Hisashi and Inko, he’d need to learn how from someone bigger and smarter.
He found a local gym that was only a few blocks away, and next door to a learning center. It was perfect. He could ask Inko if he could take extra lessons. Everyone always thought he was stupid anyway, so maybe it would work. If he said the lessons were charity work, she’d probably buy it. So long as she wasn’t putting out money, Inko rarely cared. The gym next door was actually offering free community lessons in self defense to students and teens under the age of eighteen. He opened up the registration tab and filled everything out. Well, almost everything. There was one last box that Izuku glared at. “Quirk:”
Izuku sighed, thudding his body lightly on the wall behind him. He could lie, and just put in something random, but they could try and test it if they didn’t see anything visually quirked about him. The easiest lie would be to say he had an IQ quirk. Izuku was intelligent enough to get away with it for a while. Younger kids with IQ quirks often didn’t present as super geniuses until they were in their late teens. They often just had accelerated learning and comprehension - which Izuku already had. At least, all the online tests he’d taken to figure out if he really was an idiot like everyone said, told him he did.
Izuku tapped the box and typed ‘IQ - Enhanced Apprehension’. There. It was a simple lie, but effective. He could fake it easily. At his age, he didn’t have to hold a registered ID, so no one could verify it. He also used a fake name, so that would help anyway. Why was Izuku so good at lying at only eight and three quarter years old? Perhaps it was a survival skill.
The first class on self defense was next Monday. Today was Thursday. Today was likely the best day to try and convince Inko to let him take the lessons. The extra school lessons he was using as a cover.
Izuku scooted out of bed and opened his bedroom door. Per the rules of the house, he was not allowed to leave his room after he got home unless given permission. If he absolutely had to leave the room, he had to knock on his door and wait for Inko to answer him. It occurred to Izuku, standing there with his knuckles hovering over his door, that he wasn’t sure he could speak right now. Izuku pursed his lips, then winced at the pain it caused.
He went back into his room and grabbed his notepad and a pencil, writing a quick note to his mother before going back to knock on the door as per the rules.
Inko appeared after a few minutes.
“What, child?” She asked, barely looking at Izuku.
He offered the note with his head bowed. Inko practically ripped it from his hand.
‘I apologize for the bother Okaasan. My teachers have suggested I seek extra lessons to help keep me on track in school. There is a local learning center offering them for free to students my age as charity. The lessons are after school Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. May I please be allowed to attend so I can make myself more useful in the future?’
Inko had forced grammer into him the last couple years along with proper speech. She didn’t want him talking like a ‘vagabond’, she said. Whatever that meant. Izuku wrote as eloquently as he spoke, even if he didn’t use any big words since they didn’t always make sense to Izuku’s young mind.
Inko read over the note and sighed, folding it up and handing it back to Izuku.
“If the lessons are free, sure. I don’t care. Just let me know how late you will be on those days. I can adjust the schedule - but only because you are making yourself useful and trying to keep up with your betters. If you fail any of your classes, expect severe punishment. Back to your room.”
Izuku bowed low and ducked back into his room and shut the door. Slowly, he slid down with a deep sigh. Step one, accomplished. Step two included more lying, but he could manage it. He really could. Izuku had the smallest spark of faith fluttering around in his chest. The faith that he might actually learn to protect himself from pain, from punishments, from all the people who wanted to hurt him. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to feel this ‘too much’ ache in his chest forever.