Orgins 2

Izuku let out a strained breath as he ran down the sidewalk, a few bystanders watching him with confusion. He heard them call out, possibly asking why he was in such a rush, but he couldn't hear them as he continued to run.

It was only until he rounded the corner that he allowed himself to rest, putting both hands on his kneecaps as he panted out in exhaustion.

Never had he ran so much in his entire life, maybe a few times to escape Katsuki's harassment, but never to this degree.

He gained a few more precious gasps of oxygen before going back to running until Izuku finally reached his street and ran up the stairs to his apartment, two things were very apparent in his mind.

One, the fact that the police weren't on the property at the moment, which considering how worrisome his mother was, was nothing short of a miracle.

And two, was the fact that his heart was absolutely pounding right now. And the rest of his body wasn't feeling too hot either.

The kid was still stiff after his previous scuffle he had earlier.

It didn't take the boy long to reach his floor at last and knock on the door. Not surprised at all when it was answered before he even got to the third knock.

Inko: OH IZUKU!"

A short and somewhat round lady screeched as she tackled her son in a hug.

Izuku: My baby boy is alright! Where were you! I was this close to calling the police! Do you know how worried I was!? I thought you had been kidnapped, or attacked, or-" My god You are drenched now!"

She then looked at the blood on his lips.

Inko: W-What happened to your face?!"

Just when she was about to touch his face, Izuku grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

Izuku: Mom...I uh I f-fell down."

He stammered as he continued.

Izuku: I-I need some rest that's all and I'm just really tired and it's so late already." I'll explain everything in the morning, ok? Right now I just need sleep."

Inko: Are you sure!? I could make you something! Are you hungry? Thirsty? I could-"

The green haired woman was cut off by her son slamming into her with an enormous hug.

Inko: Izuku?"

Inko asked worriedly as she returned the hug without hesitation.

For the quirkless boy, things were confusing right now. And he didn't really know what his next step was. All he knew was that a hug is what he needed right now, even if it wasn't the kind he wanted.

No matter how badly he wanted to, he would not break down right here in his mother's arms. He didn't really want to worry his mom any further. Especially after he almost lost his life today.

He replied assuring his mom he was fine and quickly went to his room, leaving a trail of rainwater on the floor as he left the area.

And with that, the young man closed his door behind him softly, not wasting any time in stripping down into his pajamas and collapsing onto his bed.

He was finally safe.

The green-haired boy sighed heavily as he looked at the massive amount of All Might merch that decorated his room as he entered as he remembered something a while ago.

All Might: It's not bad to dream. But you also have to consider what's realistic.'

He remembered as the boy faced the ground in shame.

Izuku: You don't see heroes getting constantly saved. They stand up for the innocent...and stop the bad guys, and always make the people feel safe…..but here I am. Getting saved….again….

He began to cry at the realization of how pathetic he's become as a trail of tears began to trail down his face.

Izuku: Why?”

Izuku said as he opened his eyes wide as he began hyperventilating as he began to question himself.

Izuku: Why!?”.....WHY AM I SO WEAK!”

His tears refused to stop flowing as he wrestled with the harsh reality of his quirkless existence.

Izuku: Even... the best of the best said it..."

Izuku muttered, his voice quivering.

Izuku: Don't cry! You knew already, right?! This is reality... It's because I knew... that I tried so damned hard." Everyone was right!"

He thought, his voice almost a whisper as soon familiar voices soon echoed around him, voices of people who wronged him most of his life.

Bakugou: Damn deku your worthless get out of my way!"

???: Oh he's Quirkless man that sucks!"

???: Freak!"

???: Gross."

All Might: …..No i don't think you can become a hero without a quirk.

Izuku's stomach twisted and churned at that, as he saw All Might's signature grin as he looked at numerous posters that adorned his walls. In the past that grin always filled Izuku with such hope and excitement but now…he can't even bring himself to look directly at it.

How could he?” How could he after his dreams were denied by him? And to rub it in even further he nearly lost his life twice and 2 of the times were on his part. Because he chose to get into things he shouldn't have.

How could he call himself a hero if…he couldn't even protect himself. How could he be a hero if he was the one constantly being saved.

Izuku's nails dug into his palm, at the thought as he can't bear to look up, not at that grin at the moment.

Izuku's stomach twisted more, his heart heavy with a sense of worthlessness as he stood amidst the shrine of All Might memorabilia that once filled him with hope. Now, each poster, each figurine, felt like a cruel reminder of his own inadequacy. The signature grin that had once inspired him now mocked him from every corner of the room, taunting him with its unattainable ideal.

How could he still believe in heroes when he couldn't even protect himself? How could he dream of becoming one when he was powerless to even save his own life? The weight of his failures pressed down on him like a suffocating and crushing spirit.

With trembling hands, Izuku turned away from the posters, unable to bear the sight of All Might's smiling face any longer. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at them, not when it felt like a betrayal of everything he had ever believed in.

The encounter with All Might, his idol, had left him shattered and confused, the words of the hero echoing in his mind like a relentless drumbeat.

Izuku: All Might said it's not bad to have dreams,"

Izuku muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

Izuku: He just said my dreams need to be obtainable."

He buried his head in his knees as he hugged himself tightly*

Izuku: Everyone was right....I'm such an idiot...I'm so stupid! Why am i so useless...its such bullshit that i was born like this...i hate being Quirkless I SHOULD BE A HERO!...”

But what dreams were obtainable for someone like him? The events of the past day had only served to reinforce his sense of powerlessness and inadequacy.

The sludge villain, the confrontation with the heroes, the gun pressed against his head in that dark alleyway—all reminders of his own vulnerability and insignificance.

His hand trembled slightly, as Izuku touched his forehead, the exact spot where the gun had been pressed against his skin just moments ago. The specter of death loomed over him, casting a chilling shadow on his already frayed nerves.

Closing his eyes tightly, Izuku gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of emotions flood through him. Fear, anger, frustration—the overwhelming sense of powerlessness threatened to engulf him entirely.

Izuku, almost meeting his end in a dark alley during a stormy night, and no one would ever know.

Could he even bring himself to tell anyone about this haunting experience? Who would believe him without any evidence to substantiate his claim?

Hell would anyone really care!”

If he were to share his ordeal at school, he'd likely be dismissed as attention-seeking or worse, mocked for his weakness.

The idea of involving the police or the heroes crossed Izuku's mind fleetingly, but he quickly dismissed it.

What good would it do? By the time they arrived, the scene would likely be cleared, and the storm would have erased any traces of evidence. Besides, the immediate danger had passed, and besides he had been saved by someone again.

And this was when Izuku realized that most dreams weren't meant to be.

Izuku: I can never be a hero….
__________________________________

The next day, Izuku sat in class, his classmates chatting amongst themselves, oblivious to his turmoil.

As Izuku sat in class, his mind was elsewhere. He was trying his best to pay attention, but his head was full of thoughts and emotions that he couldn't shake off.

The tension from the previous night's encounter with the sludge villain, Allmight and the….incident in the alley hadn't completely dissipated, and he felt like he was on the verge of breaking down. His classmates were chattering around him, but he couldn't focus on what they were saying.

He felt like a ghost, disconnected from everything around him.

His eyes fell on his notebook and for a brief moment had a thought of just writing something down as he glanced at the charred notebook that rested in his bag.

For once, Izuku didn't mumble anything or work on his quirk notebooks in the time between classes. He didn't look anyone in the eye, not even the few kids who didn't typically bully him. When the teachers tried to call on him, he just muttered what they wanted to hear before returning to spacing out.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present.

But his mind kept drifting back to yesterday. He remembered his encounter All-Might and the man in the alley, the person who saved him just in time.

That thing that saved him was the only thing that was on his mind at the moment.

The black demonic figure had a menacing scowl, the narrow white eyes, and that look of pure rage and austerity staring down at the greenette truly left a mark on the young boy.

That glare, the glare the thing had was essentially ingrained into Izuku's soul.

Izuku wanted to reach out to someone, to talk about what had happened and how he was feeling. But who could he talk to?

His classmates wouldn't care, and he didn't want to risk being laughed at or judged for what had happened. He pushed the thoughts down and tried to focus on the lesson.

But it was no use. His mind kept wandering, and he found himself staring blankly at the board, his thoughts and feelings a whirlpool inside of him.

Then again, he had never been comfortable here at all. As he looked up at the class he realized something.

He hated this school.

He probably shouldn't be as surprised by that as he was, he didn't have any positive memories of his time here whatsoever after all. Yet the revelation really did surprise him.

He hated this building. He hated this school as an institution. He hated the fact that he was stuck here for the year.

He had no friends here.

He had known that already of course, he hadn't had any friends for years. The only people who cared about him was his mom, a couple of friends of his parents, and now his own quirk, who's life was tied to his own.

Well, and his dad too probably.

But until today he finally got it after so many years. These guys weren't ever his friends. They had never been his friends. They were never going to be his friends, no matter what happened.

Every single one of them, stood by as he was humiliated, partaken in it by refusing to condone it, and actively encouraged Katsuki every time he had put him down.

He hated them, he wanted to see them at least feel even a fraction of what he was feeling now.

Frustration surged within him, his fists clenching tightly under the desk. But then he sighed, trying to calm himself down.

Izuku: No, I shouldn't think this way. Not about my classmates...

He muttered under his breath, a pang of guilt twisting in his gut at that thought.

Izuku pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly. His movements went unnoticed as his classmates continued their lively chatter, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He walked out of the classroom, the door closing the door softly behind him. He needed to get some air, he needed to clear his mind.

He was sure if he left the teacher wouldn't really care to notice him anyway.

As he walked down the empty hallway, the silence felt almost deafening, but it was a welcome contrast to the chaotic storm of emotions raging inside him.
__________________________________

Midoriya walked away from school with his head down and a jumble of emotions in his chest.

He was feeling a flurry of emotions at the moment, sadness for never being able to live out his dream of becoming a hero, anger at himself for being following a dream for so long without waking up, nervousness about what to tell his mother of what his next plans are for high school as even he had no idea what he even wanted to do.

He heard another villain attack down the street and was about to open his backpack again to take notes when he paused and realized what he was doing. Shaking his head bitterly before clutching his backpack straps harshly and going back where he was heading originally.

Truth be told, he didn't want to go home right now. He didn't have the strength to put on a facade of 'everything is ok' to his mother with the flurry of emotions going inside of him right now. It was then that he saw a familiar park ahead of him and he started to move towards it, wanting to be alone for the time being.

As he entered, he started to walk on a familiar path that he once walked on when he was a kid.

When he and Bakugo were still friends at a young age. Midoriya passed by a giant log that went over a small stream of water and was reminded of the time Bakugo knocked his hand away from him when he tried to help him out.

He never really understood why he did that when he was only trying to help him back up, but he supposed it didn't matter anymore. The two were going on different paths now, with Bakugo moving towards the UA hero course and him going to another school or try out ua’s general studies.

He thought as he saw a fork in the road, one that looked familiar to him. Where one led to a brightly lit passage of trees and one that he remembered crossing with Bakugou as a kid, the other was a path that led deep into the woods, where numerous signs warned people to stay away.

He was always curious about what was on the other end of this path since even Bakugo didn't go there when they were kids. He hesitated for a moment before steeling his nerves and started to walk on the alternate path.

While at first, the path didn't look much different than the other one, he soon realized that the trees in the surrounding area were much thicker and numerous than the other. Almost blocking the sunlight from entering the path as he continued to venture forward.

There were thick branches that kept covering his path his way forward, and he struggled to move forward. He was about to give up and turn around until he saw something inside the deep underbrush ahead.

He couldn't be sure, but it looked like an abandoned building of some sort.

The boy continued to move branches out of the way until he saw it. Looking over, he saw he was standing in front of a crumbing apartment building, police tape draped haphazardly across its blasted off doors. From its scorched walls and destroyed windows, he could taste the acrid smell of burnt plastic and foul asbestos.

Whatever had happened here, it must have been recent as there were faint plumes of smoke rising from some exposed wiring in the wall.

Suddenly he heard a loud bang, followed by shouting.

Startled, he turned his head to a distant apartment. He couldn't help but overhear a screaming argument between two neighbors, each promising the other bloody retribution if they didn't respect their privacy.

As the pair screeched their lungs out, he became aware of the steepening shadows around him.

Slowly he looked up. Looming above him were four, scorched unfinished towers.

Their heights stretch far above the surrounding tenements and small shops. At their peak he could see their rusting ribs, a corroded network of half assembled steel left bare above a mottled graying, concrete skin.

Those unfinished behemoths had many names; the Dead Towers, the Eyesores, the remains of the old world. Any name would do really, so long as it was depressing and communicated some element of disdain. Carefully omitted from post cards and commercials, they were the perpetual embarrassment of Musutafu and japan as a whole.

A tumor on its otherwise flawless steel and glass skyline.

Stretching around them in vast swathes of crumbling infrastructure, garbage choked alleys, brothels, some destroyed houses, graffiti covered vacants, and run-down stores, was the crime infested slums.

There were no hero agencies in the slums, none that Izuku knew of anyway, and very few heroes would even enter the no-man's-land surrounding the Grey Towers.

There was no prestige to be found here, no marketable victories, no glory. There was only filth, disease, and worst of all was the squalor.

What hero wanted to pose for the news over a gang of fourteen-year-old drug addicts he had pummeled stealing soft drinks and candy from a convenience store? What hero agency wanted to tie their name to vagrant murders and other crimes?

It would be a career suicide, assuming you could even draw the media out to the slums in the first place.

Whether through some secret instruction or pure economics, the press avoided reporting on the crimes in the slums. It would call attention to some of the more shameful issues about their quirk focused social hierarchy. And so, the area was left to the understaffed and underfunded police force.

Though Izuku idolized heroes, he recognized that many of the criticisms leveled at pro hero culture were pretty  valid.

Some did care too much about their image and spent far too much time worried about their popularity instead of helping people. But he had always reasoned that it was the government's responsibility to fight systemic issues that gave rise to crime, not the heroes themselves.

Izuku: Oh, jeez.'

He breathed as he looked up at the towers.

Izuku: How'd I find myself here of all places?' I didn't know the slums were this close to home?”

Though he had spent his whole life in Mustafu he had never strayed far from his own quiet residential neighborhood. Occasionally he would go downtown to shop or see a movie, but that was it.

From what he remembered the slums weren't too dangerous during the day. Occasionally you would hear about a violent mugging or a robbery gone wrong, but most violent crimes occurred at night.

It was said that gangs of petty thugs would fight over their meager territory while powerful villains were rumored to hold secret meetings in dilapidated apartments and business, planning their next attack.

Izuku thought about turning back, but before he could, he noticed a group of older teenagers walking up the street. They were laughing and jostling each other roughly. He felt his skin crawl with fear as he tried to move out of their line of sight.

Just as he was about to slip away, he heard a voice call out, freezing him in place like a deer in headlights.

???: Deku!"

The familiar, derisive nickname echoed in his ears, making his blood run cold. Slowly, he turned around to see one of his classmates and frequent tormentor, Gigan, smirking at him.

Gigan: Well, well, look who it is. What are you doing in a place like this, Deku?"

Gigan's tone was mocking, as always, and the group of teenagers with him turned their attention to Izuku, grinning maliciously. Izuku's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to find his voice.

Izuku:  I...I was just passing through.”

He stammered, taking a small step back.

Gigan: Passing through? In a place like this?"

Gigan laughed, stepping closer.

Gigan: You must be lost. Or maybe you're looking for trouble."

Izuku shook his head quickly, his eyes darting around for an escape route. But the group had surrounded him, cutting off any chance of a quick getaway.

Gigan: You know, Deku, it's not safe for weaklings like you to wander around here."

Gigan sneered, shoving Izuku's shoulder roughly.

Izuku stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. He knew he couldn't outrun them, and fighting back was out of the question. All he could do was endure and hope they would get bored and leave him alone.

Gigan: Since you're here anyway, how much do you got? I really hope you have more this time because I plan to treat my friends and I to the arcade today. So if you can, will you hand over your wallet and I'll go on my merry way."

Izuku shook his head quickly, but before he could do anything else the group had surrounded him, cutting off any chance of a quick getaway.

Izuku: No,no,no!”  Pl-please I don't really h-have anything.

He said, trying to sound firm despite his fear.

Gigan's smirk turned into a scowl. With a nod from him, his goons grabbed Izuku, pushing him roughly to the ground. He struggled, but they held him down, one of them twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

Gigan knelt down and rifled through Izuku's pockets, finally pulling out his wallet. He opened it and sneered in disgust.

Gigan: Wow, man, all you brought is chump change again? You're not letting that time I took your credit card go, huh?"

Izuku's heart sank as Gigan's displeasure grew.

Gigan: Seriously, Deku, you're pathetic. This is barely enough for a soda."

He tossed the wallet aside, the few bills inside fluttering to the ground. Gigan stood up, looking down at Izuku with disdain.

Gigan: You know, you're really starting to piss me off. I thought you'd learn by now to carry something worthwhile."

Izuku winced as the grip on his arms tightened even further, pain shooting through his shoulders.

Izuku: Pl-please, just let me go. I-I don't have anything els-

Izuku's words were cut short by a fist crashing into his nose and sending him reeling down.

Both his hands shot over his face, cupping the small feature on the front as it bruised and bled from the sudden impact assumedly enhanced by the boy's steel bones.

The blood trailing his lips felt warm, probably coming from the rapid beating in his chest and the heat in his eyes as Izuku tried to push himself back to his feet.

His teeth ground together in pain, as the fire of emotions in his eyes argued with the passivity in his mind.

But before he could think another fist came to the side of his head before he could see it coming.

Izuku: No….please stop……

His thoughts were a desperate plea, but they were drowned out by the searing pain and mocking laughter of his tormentors.

He tried to push himself up but another fist slammed into the side of his head before he could even see it coming another fist slammed into the side of his face before he could move.

The world spun, black dots danced at the edge of his vision as he fell to the ground.

Izuku: W-why…..just why…..why

The greenete said to himself as the teens will was slowly dimming with each blow, each word, each reminder of how powerless he was.

Gigan loomed over him as his voice dripped with scorn.

Gigan: You know Deku, I keep hearing our classmates say you still want to be a hero. Damn isn't that the saddest thing?” A quirkless loser will never be a hero at this rate. Hell you're literally nothing more then a punching bag.

Izuku's breath hitched at the words as he felt those words. A hero…..that word used to fill him with hope and determination. Now felt like a cruel joke right now as Gigan continued.

Gigan: Like seriously I don't know why you never give up on that. Like why would anyone depend on you of all people. Shit what kind of hero let's himself get beat up everyday. What kind of hero can't even protect himself, let alone anyone else. You're just a pathetic wannabe clinging to a dream that'll never happen.

Those words hurt izuku more then any punch as it tore through the last shreds of his resolve.

Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over as he lay there, beaten and broken. He wanted to scream, to cry out against the world, against his own weakness, but no sound came. What was the point? No matter how much he fought, how much he struggled, he always ended up here—on the ground, defeated, powerless.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. His mind was a storm of self-loathing and despair, memories of all the times he'd failed, all the times he'd been saved by someone else because he couldn't save himself.

Izuku: Maybe... just maybe... this is all I am. A burden. A failure. A quirkless nobody who can't do anything right.

Izuku tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out beneath him, sending him crashing back to the ground. His body trembled with exhaustion and pain, and he realized, with a sinking heart, that he couldn't get up. He was too weak, too beaten down.

As Gigan and his gang walked away, their mocking laughter fading into the distance, Izuku was left alone with his thoughts. He was alone in every sense of the word—alone with his pain, his self-hatred, and the crushing weight of his own inadequacy.

He lay there, curled up on the cold ground, tears streaming down his face. He was too weak to move, too broken to fight back, and too lost to believe that things would ever get better.

Izuku felt everything come crashing down and didn’t know what to do.

A whirlwind of pain and doubt, each thought clawing at his insides, tearing apart the image of the hero he had always dreamt of becoming. The fire in his heart that once burned bright with hope was now a flickering ember, barely holding on. Gigan's words rang in his ears like a bitter truth he couldn't deny.

What kind of hero... what kind of hero can't even stand up for himself?

His heart sank deeper as he thought about All Might, about all the heroes he'd looked up to for so long. They were symbols of strength, courage, and hope—everything he was not. What would All Might think if he saw him now? Lying here, in the dirt, tears streaming down his face, unable to fight back?

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

I am nothing.

The words echoed in his mind, louder than Gigan's taunts, louder than the world around him. He had followed his dream blindly, believing that if he just kept pushing forward, somehow things would change. That one day, he’d wake up and be worthy of the title of hero.

But that was a lie. A lie he had been telling himself for years.

Izuku's fists clenched into the dirt beneath him, his nails digging painfully into his palms as if the physical pain would drown out the ache in his heart. The tears continued to flow, hot and fast, burning tracks down his cheeks as sobs wracked his chest. His breathing came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle as he lay there, crumpled and broken, his spirit shattered.

The laughter from the group echoed around him, but it was distant now, like it was coming from a different world—a world he no longer belonged to.

Izuku felt so small. So insignificant. And for the first time in his life, he truly believed it. All his dreams, his hopes, his aspirations—they were nothing more than childish fantasies, cruelly mocking him. No one believed in him. Not Bakugo. Not Gigan. Not his Mom.Not his classmates. Not even himself.

Why should they?

Why should anyone believe in someone who couldn't even defend himself? Who couldn't even make it through the day without being reminded of how useless he was?

The weight of that truth pressed down on him, suffocating him under its crushing reality.

He was worthless.

No Quirk. No strength. No future.

He was just... nothing.

Izuku lay there, unmoving, his body bruised and broken, but it was his heart that hurt the most. He had lost the fight long before Gigan and his friends had started throwing punches. He had lost the moment he realized he didn’t have the strength to change his fate.

And that hurt more than anything.