Izuku does not need to read the time displayed on his alarm clock -which makes a screeching noise- to know that it is much too early and that he has not slept enough. He moves to make it stop, squinting when the red light that displays six twenty on the frame blinds him nearly to tears and he fights against the urge to go back to bed to sit on the edge of his mattress.

His hands easily find his head and he feels like he's letting go of his soul when he sighs in silence.

It's difficult, so difficult.

His back is burning and he doesn't want to go to school. He doesn't want to get up, get dressed— to avoid his stepfather at breakfast just to meet Kacchan at the bus stop and shudder almost as much.

He knows that he should not have ignored him, much less whilst surrounded by his coterie of doggies-really, what else to call them? - he thinks, taking his uniform to the bathroom. He just wants to get rid of the smell of sweat and sex from his skin.

The water stings on his wounds but he ignores the pain, taking advantage of the lingering numbness that brings sleep to shower. It's not his fault if Kacchan always crosses his path at the worst time and he couldn't really risk being late for his appointment with All Might when he still can't believe his chance of being chosen as a disciple by his idol. He doesn't want to risk losing the only positive thing in his life.

Once clean and dressed, Izuku goes into the kitchen and grabs his lunch before silently leaving the house. He doesn't know if his mom has already gone to work but he does not want to check if she is in her room because she shares it with his stepfather and he is under the impression that he would know that he went in there.

Izuku looks at the time on his phone and as he knows that missing his breakfast helped him be early and that his bus never really arrives on time, he takes the opposite direction on the road, strolling slowly and breathing the air already loaded with iodine so early in the morning to go to his cliff.

It is not strictly speaking his own but as he is the only one to come to watch the sea crashing below, he kind of took ownership of it. It is not as if someone will miss it: access to the coast is forbidden because the land is dangerous and he is convinced that most of the locals could not understand how to access it even with a map in front of them. He knows where to put his feet, where the ground is unstable... and he also knows how beautiful and soothing the view is.

He can never stay there very long, too busy spending his time being where he is asked to be to be able to come whenever he wants. After all, three breaths of sea air are not worth the hassle he would have to endure to reach them.

And he almost feels like he only breathed three times when he takes out his phone again and the time that appears puts him in a hurry. He is surprised not to see Kacchan at the bus stop but as he has no one to share his concern with, he lowers his head when entering the vehicle.

Izuku doesn't like his classmates and they don't like him either. It may be his fault, but he doesn't recognize himself in their noisy and nonchalant attitude. Immature. Maybe if he was more like them -and if he had a quirk- he would have made some friends but their jokes are not funny to him, no matter how hard he tries to understand them. He tried at first but after a another too-late laugh he stopped. Now he is at least quite aware that it is pathetic to laugh when he is the butt of the joke.

He looks at his main teacher with compassion, the poor man as comfortable as he is around his classmates. He ends up getting a relative silence in the class and takes the opportunity to bring in a student with a dark complexion and who is such a size and breadth that Izuku does not need to ask him to know that he has repeated a year. Izuku does not like the glow in his eyes, much less when he looks at them while flexing his muscles, as if trying to gauge them.

He almost feels a target sign pass around his neck when he looks at him and he swallows, bitterly regretting the absence of Kacchan who would have distracted him with his explosive temper.

"Good morning. My name is Cito Despas," he said, as if he didn't particularly want to know theirs. "I don't intend to stay here long but you will remember me," he smiles.

Great, bitterly thinks Izuku. He seems as ambitious as Kacchan.

"How are you going to do that?" asked Julie, fluttering her eyelashes before laughing with her friends.

"By destroying the one who has the strongest quirk of all of you," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Izuku feels like he's already bullied students the same way and hasn't always asked them if they were okay with it before. What a great start...

"Ah," sighs Julie. "It's too bad he's not here today."

"And what is his name?" asked the other, clearly eager to find his next prey, although he might run into trouble this time.

"I would like to remind you that the use of quirks is prohibited on the premises of the establishment!" says their teacher quickly, already sweating bullets.

"Katsuki Bakugo," answers Julie, ignoring their teacher, smiling at Cito who settles to her left, clearly interested in learning more about the blond.

The teacher lets them talk, not having enough authority to ask them to be silent since he knows very well that he will not even be able to teach if he reprimand them.

"Izuku?"

The boy raises his head to look at his teacher, unable to hold back the jolt that makes some girls laugh behind him.

"Yes, sir?"

"You do live on the same street as Katsuki, right? Can you take notes for him?"

He nods in silence and returns to scribbling notes on his sheet. When he raises his head, the new student stares at him with a smile that he can only compare to that of a wolf, ready to jump on him.

There was really no alternative for him but to create a link between himself and Kacchan while this boy seems to have no other desire than to respond to his murderous impulses? Apparently not.

Izuku doesn't like sports class either. It is quite ironic since he wants to become a hero -and he is aware of it himself- but he cannot think of a more unpleasant moment than the sports class. First because he is not very good: he is smaller and frailer than average and even the training of All Might or the chases of Kacchan's friends do not really affect his meagre body; then because it is quite humiliating to always be chosen last or mocked because he is not the best.

Izuku is certain that they would still be able to make fun of him even if that were the case, in fact, and he is not that bad compared to the others either; it is just that he is him and the p.e. classes have the power to give them a new opportunity to make fun of him, because he's sweating, he turns red, he's not always the most gifted... because he fails.

But what finally makes him hate p.e. classes is what happens even before he enters the gym and the field. Just the thought of changing clothes put such a knot in his stomach that he would sometimes vomit nervously when he knew he was going to have p.e. the next hour or even the next day during his first years of middle school. Just a big ball of anxiety that makes him shake, sweat and vomit... crying too but it's almost an integrated trait of his character now.

The knot in his belly has loosened a bit now that he's in his last year of middle school because he knows when and where to change in the toilet. He knows that he is not the only one to do it, that some girls do it because they're insecure or simply to avoid deodorant fumes. But even if Izuku knows that he has enough to be insecure about- skinny, not a single hair, his voice that still hasn't deepened and his child-like crotch that would cause him a whole new wave of bullying if it were to be known- that's not really what scares him. Of course, it always stings when others make remarks about his looks but as long as they do not comment on the state of his back, on the various bruises or worse, e long as they don't have the idea to talk about it, he can take it.

No one must know. If they know... just thinking about it, Izuku stills and jolts, looking behind his shoulder like he's going to see Him.

And inevitably when he comes out of the boy's restroom to go to the field, the other students are making teams. Izuku knows that he will be chosen last but it does not make the reality of it sweeter. He also knows that if Julie could choose between him and the trash can of the field for her team, she would choose it. -In fact, she made the joke once before and spent the session moving the trash can around like a real person, laughing at the top of her lungs while he was badly holding back his tears-.

Izuku also knows that he gives them a bit of an opportunity sometimes. He knows that he is strange, that he mumbles, that he is afraid of everything, that he is always in winter uniform -no matter the temperature -, that he cries for nothing, as if his lack of quirk had affected his brain. At least, that's what they must all end up thinking and he can't really blame them but he's just so scared all the time that he doesn't know how to act otherwise. If only he could make them understand that he's trying for real.

He also foolishly believed that Kacchan's absence would give him time to breathe during the journey between the school and his house but again, he is wrong.

He doesn't immediately notice that something is wrong, just clutching his bag against his body while looking out the bus' window until he turns his head for some reason and meets Cito's eyes who takes this as an invitation, sitting in the seat between him and the bus corridor.

Izuku is certain he has nothing to do there. He knows that he does not take this bus, because he would have seen him in here this morning and at the same time, he does not need to wonder too much about the reason for his presence because he also knows why he is there. Because he lives on the same street as Kacchan and the other knows he knows, that's why he throws him this same predatory smile.

He also knows that Izuku doesn't say anything when hit, maybe because it's something that people like him feel or because he's seen him being bothered all day by others: it doesn't matter. Well, that's the only way he can justify his behavior when he starts pinching him.

He doesn't do it discreetly, or lightly. No, he pinches him with two of his big fingers violently, making him move or squeak, then he pinches elsewhere, again and again while the bus makes its stops normally.

His cheeks are soaked and he wiggles to escape him but he never stops, going so far as to tell him to be good. Izuku knows it's no use saying no to people like him so he keeps quiet, swallowing his sobs one after the other as he pinches his thighs, arms and stomach, feeling his skin protest and ignoring it. He is obedient and ashamed of it.

"This is my stop," he whispers, clearing his throat to be understandable, because it seems like a good reason for him to stop. In any case, he must stop: he is more afraid of the repercussions of his stepfather than his and he feels pathetic because he knows that this is what will ultimately push him to react.

The other smiles at him before slapping him slightly across the face, a little one, sharp like a whip and it's when he hears a surprised laugh that Izuku realizes that some people were watching them from the beginning.

He ignores him when the teenager returns to these people smiling and laughing as if it were the best joke of their lives and gets off the bus, the burning shame on his cheek and the furious urge to stop crying doing nothing on his tears.

He walks to the beach still burning with humiliation, his stinging eyes as the only vestige of his bus journey and he forces himself to smile when seeing the hero number one waiting for him next to a pile of trash in scrap, his symbolic attitude sticking to his skin even in his frail form.

He quickly asks him to pick up where he left off last time, making him forget about his day and his worries with sweating and burning muscles until the sun quickly approaches the horizon and he has to go home.

All Might does not really like that his life is not centered around his training, that Izuku is not like him but he also knows that he does not have his experience and he knows that he sometimes realizes it, usually just before telling him that he can go home.

With all this, he did not even think to stop in front of the house of his childhood friend to give him his lessons and when he finally thinks about it, it is already too dark to make a detour.

Perhaps he hesitates a little too long because he barely steps into the entrance of the house that a strong grip catches him by the hair, having more effect than a stop button would have on his whole body. He does not retain the startle that goes through him, having had for only warning the few noises of strides between his sofa and the entrance hall before feeling a great pain. He tries not to let himself fall, having not yet realized what is happening while the fingers are already shaking his head a little.

Fortunately, his body is used to this kind of treatment because he is not able to adapt as quickly as usual after his long day, nearly falling backwards because his mind is still on the task of removing his shoes when he knows he should rather take into account the reproaches that are growled in his ear.

He doesn't hear the first words too much, smelling instead the stench of alcohol escaping from his mouth as he hastily and clumsily takes off his sneakers with his feet, his arms too busy holding his own body in a precarious balance and aware that he better not trip on himself if he decided to drag him into the living room now if he does not want the evening to take a dramatic turn.

Izuku finally understands that he scolds him for being late and squeaks when he pulls on his hair to make him stand up without having had time to ask him for forgiveness and then takes a slap in the face because he does not apologize, which he would have done if he hadn't been monopolized by the sudden pain on his skull. This one, he saw coming because he can pretty much gauge the patience of the man and he knows that he had amply exceeded it but it does not hurt less, especially when it is on top of the one he took on the bus.

Marcus looks at him very closely, taking his face in his oh-so-massive hand that he could suffocate him with if he felt like it to better read his frightened expression, certainly feeling all the tension that contains his body, enjoying it for a moment and pushing the vice by pulling a little more on his locks to see him cry.

Izuku has no trouble letting tears flow, much less if it can soothe the other.

"Attic, now," the man finally says.

He doesn't wait any longer to rush up the stairs when he lets go, throwing his school bag in the open door of his room when passing by while ignoring the pull in his jaw. He doesn't know why he was convinced his mother was home tonight but he bitterly regrets it now, and his lack of vigilance too.