So. Still working on my other stories, but this one kinda binge-wrote itself almost and after hitting 8-9 chapters without any sign of stopping, I figured this one would be worth sharing too. To previous readers, hi, I promise I'm still working on my other stuff (finished an AMOSC chap, just need to edit it). To new readers, welcome! Please enjoy the crazy that is my brain. Note that this story will have a Dragon!Deku with a twist, OfA Katsuki (yes, you read that right) and Shinso Hitoshi being the epic deadpan of the cast. Plus Monoma. I have no idea why he showed up, but he's a reassuring side-character somehow so ... yeah. Monoma.

Copyright Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia or any references in this story. The only things I own are my OCs, the plot, and my interpretations of these characters.

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Chapter One: Destiny Broken

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It was an ordinary day. A nice day. A weekend out with his mom, playing in the park —by himself, but that was okay, the other kids would just tease him anyway—, gushing over the newest hero figurines, getting ice cream, and begging his mom to take him to the theater to see the sequel to the cool fantasy dragon movie he liked almost as much as he liked heroes.

Then, somewhere between one happily rambled word and the next, Izuku and his mother became aware of the screaming.

In an instant, one heedlessly turned corner of the street, the world seemed to transform from a pleasant day to a nightmare. People were running, screaming, somewhere nearby another child was crying. His mother immediately clutched his wrist and began dragging him away from what appeared to be the center of the chaos.

She forgot to shield his eyes. She was too busy trying to get them safely away, so there was nothing to stop Izuku from watching as a man —villain, had to be— rushed out of the crowd, laughing and ranting and screaming —something about never being appreciated, something about how if people wanted massive cosmetic surgery so badly he would give it to them— as he grabbed some random person in the crowd with both hands. The victim of the villain immediately screamed, skin shifting and splitting, bones warping and cracking as he was forcibly changed from his human shape into something different. Something Other.

Izuku felt bile rush into his mouth as his seven year old mind struggled to comprehend the sheer terror that flooded him. The sheer cruelty of the villain who was lunging for another victim, still ranting about things Izuku didn't understand —because of course the world was unfair, even Izuku knew that, but that was no reason to hurt innocent people who had nothing to do with the unfairness of the world—. The crowd was shoving them and bumping them, making it hard for his mother to safely navigate them away, and no matter how much he wanted to look away, Izuku still found himself staring at the villain, wondering desperately when a hero would arrive and save the day —too late for that one man, too late for the other victims he had gotten to before Izuku saw it…—.

Too late for Izuku.

Izuku was still staring when a familiar blond appeared out of the crowd, separated from his mother, lost and disorientated by the screaming mob, fighting to break out of the flow and stumbling into a clear area that was only clear because it was directly in front of the villain everyone was running from.

Izuku saw the villain smile, crazed and bloodshot, black tongue visible as he laughed hysterically. Saw the man stare briefly down at the boy's shirt, as if it was some kind of cosmic inspiration, before he lunged for the confused child. Saw the boy —his friend, his bully, his role model, Kacchan— barely manage to dodge out of the way of the first lunge only to trip over the shoes of a previous victim and fall.

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It is said that true heroes, the ones who become legends in their own lifetime, are the ones who first discovered their heroism in a time of great peril. The ones who would later say that their bodies moved on their own to save an innocent. Instinctive heroes, who protect because it is in their very nature to protect, who rush in without thinking in order to save the day because their very heart demands it.

No one ever talks about what that moment of rash, unthinking courage will cost. The price the hero will spend the rest of his life paying.

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Until the day he died, Izuku would never remember how he got loose of his mother's death-grip. All he could remember was watching the horror unfold one moment, then plunging into the flow of the mob the next with the singular thought of his friend's name ringing through his head. The memories that followed were snapshots. Flashes of fighting past legs, barely dodging a trampling set of hooves, shoving and twisting all the while hearing his best friend dodge and scream again and again over the cacophony of the crowd, knowing instinctively that each time Kacchan came just a bit closer to being touched by the fixated villain.

Izuku broke out of the crowd somehow, his feet carrying him on-on-on even before his mind could fully register what instinct had already processed as dangerous and unacceptable. The sight of Kacchan trapped with his back to a wall, hands desperately sparking in an effort to ward off the villain's reaching fingers.

It was the work of adrenaline —of desperation— to weave under the villain's outstretched arms, grab his friend-bully-idol by his shirt, and fling him out of the way just as large hands closed over Izuku's scrawny shoulders.

Izuku's world dissolved into shards of agony and a burning that seared all the way down to the marrow of his bones.

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People speak often and glowingly of the popular heroes, of the ones who act without thinking, whose very instinct is to protect. What they don't know is that most of those heroes do not actually have that instinct naturally. That a lot of the bravest —most dangerous— heroes did not start out with that instinct, but had that instinct imprinted upon them by one singular moment. They are the ones who rush headlong into danger seemingly without fear because the alternative is to stand aside while that moment —the single point in time that shattered their world, broke their perception of reality down and built it anew all in the span of seconds— happened all over again and that is something they cannot allow.

The moment could be anything. The loss of a parent. The sight of another person crying out in terror. Their first villain attack. Even just a moment where they experienced total and utter shame in themselves over some inability to act, a split second where they did nothing and someone else paid the price for it. Anything could be the trigger, one that the heroes carry for the rest of their lives as a driving force. Hold tight to their hearts and remember even as the public lauds them as being instinctive heroes, fearless saviors, and know that they aren't really, not in their own eyes. To those heroes, everything the media proclaims about their heroism is a lie, but the truth is something they will carry to their graves without a word.

The truth that they are actually too cowardly to risk letting something like The Moment happen ever again, even if preventing it it costs them their lives.

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For Bakugo Katsuki, that moment was when he went from staring death in the face to landing roughly on the pavement from where he'd been thrown to safety by the boy he had bullied relentlessly for years. It was the moment, the eternity in time, when he watched helplessly as Midoriya Izuku —the boy he had called useless, quirkless, stupid, weak— took the attack meant for Katsuki and screamed. The moment where Izuku's body twisted in on itself, bones cracking and reforming, skin ripping and blackening and stitching itself back together —all wrong, all wrong, that wasn't Deku anymore, that was something else— and Katsuki realized somewhere in the back of his mind that the horror happening before his eyes was all his fault.

All Might dropped out of the sky literal seconds later, taking out the villain with a single blow that sent wind roaring in every direction, but for once Katsuki couldn't have cared less about the presence of his favorite hero. He was too busy crawling to where Izuku lay in a pool of blood and torn clothes —too still, far too still, why-didn't-he-move-why-didn't-he-wake-up-?—. His hands fluttered tentatively over fever-hot skin —that wasn't skin anymore, it was too hard and black-green and scaly and his-fault-his-fault— and begged Izuku to wake up past the lump of horror in his throat.

He didn't see the moment All Might turned and saw the pair of them, the crying boy and the lumpy bundle of iridescent black-green-red not-right that should have been another little boy. Didn't see how his hero's iconic smile briefly dropped into a look of pure horror —pure guilt— before All Might had to work to keep the crowd of slowly calming —and now curious— onlookers away until the ambulance arrived and carted the victims —plus a hysterically sobbing Midoriya Inko and a shaking, in-shock Katsuki— off to the nearest hospital.

Katsuki's mother arrived at some point during Katsuki's hospital stay, hugging him tight and crying on his hair before trying to comfort the unconsolable Inko. Katsuki was barely aware of their presence. He just sat in the waiting room and stared at the far wall, waiting and watching for the glowing sign above the door through which Izuku had been taken to go dark. For news of what was to become of the boy who had saved him —even when Deku had no reason to, not with how Katsuki had treated him, not at such a cost—.

It took hours for the sign to go dark and a doctor to come out to talk to Inko. It took longer before the police figured out the whole story and could tell the two distraught mothers what had happened while a deathly silent boy listened in unnoticed.

Izuku was now one of fifteen victims in a villain attack caused by the illegal, quirk-enhancing drug known as Trigger. The drug caused a massive boost in power of whoever took it at the cost of making them completely irrational and violent. The villain who had attacked them was actually a man who had been dumped by his girlfriend when he had been unable to use his quirk —a minor transfiguration quirk that worked on living things to permanently alter their bodies in some way, but only in little things such as removing moles or changing eye or hair color— to perform a cheaper version of some kind of cosmetic surgery for her.

He had taken the drug in an irrational fit and gone on a rampage, using his suddenly super-charged quirk to completely alter the bodies of his victims into whatever he was thinking of at the time.

Of the fifteen victims, only ten survived the initial transformation process. Of those who survived the transformation, three bled out or died from shock before the ambulance arrived, and two more died en route to the hospital.

Of the five who reached the hospital and were taken in for emergency treatment, only Izuku survived.

When Katsuki was finally allowed to see Deku's unconscious body —poked by what seemed like a million needles and tubes and a specially shaped oxygen mask strapped over his head— through the thick pane of an observation window, he couldn't help but wonder if Deku would have rather been among the ones killed. Because what had been done to him was permanent. There was no known quirk that could safely restore his body to its original condition without killing him, and even if anyone dared trust the villain near his one remaining victim, once off the drug, the man's quirk would be too weak to do anything helpful anyway.

The next thought to enter Katsuki's head was the realization that if it hadn't been for Deku, he would be the one lying there right now. He would be the one sedated and strapped to a hundred monitors, with no one able to tell his mother if he would still be himself when he woke up or if the transformation had destroyed his mind in the process.

The third thought to enter his head was Never Again. Never Again would someone else have to save Katsuki from something he should have been able to fight off himself. Never Again would Katsuki be the victim, waiting for someone else to suffer the price of keeping him safe. Katsuki would be the one to help from now on. He would be the one to save the victims, he would be the one to beat the villains before they could do things like what had happened to Deku.

And he would start by making sure no one hurt Deku ever again.

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Waking up hurt. The beeping in his ears was far too loud. It pierced his aching skull and seemed to send vibrations right up his throbbing bones. Everything felt strange, off somehow, in a way his sluggish mind couldn't yet pinpoint. It took a solid minute to figure out that he was lying on his belly, with something heavy and awkward pressing down on his back and a mask strapped to his face —the mask didn't feel right, it was too tight and went all the way up to his forehead, almost covering his eyes, but the straps were wrapped around his neck rather than the back of his head—.

He felt his nostrils flare as his attempted groan came out as a simple sigh. Something rustled just to his left —it sounded like fabric?— but Izuku was distracted from the sound when he felt a part of his head shift in the direction of the sound involuntarily and his head wasn't supposed to do that, why did it do that? The beeping got faster as his breathing increased, which caused more parts of his head to move and flatten against the rest of his skull —and how did that make any sense? Was he dreaming, Izuku hoped he was dreaming—.

Then there was a shaky hand on the top of his skull —which felt way too close to his forehead somehow—, and his mom's voice was right next to him, shaking with suppressed tears and stress —he instantly felt guilty, what had he done now to make her cry?—, "Izuku…? Baby, can you hear me? Are you … are you awake?"

I'm awake, was what he tried to say, but his lips felt heavy and wouldn't form the correct shapes and the only thing that came out of his throat was a sleepy, inhuman trill.

On the top of his head, his mother's hand flinched, "Izuku?"

Something's wrong. Something's-wrong-what's-wrong-what's-wrong-with-me-? His eyes jerked open and everything looked wrong. It was too sharp and too wide, like he could see half the room when he should have only been able to see a third or less. What few colors there were stood out and clashed almost as if they were neon —his mother's hand was too pale, her clothes kept flickering from a moderate but bright green to something else entirely, like an inversion of everything he knew it was supposed to be—. Someone —nurse? They were dressed like a nurse— was forcibly nudging his mother away from him with a loud —too loud, make it stop— mutter of, "Stay back, ma'am. We don't know how he'll react."

His mom clutched her hands together, "But he's my baby-!"

"He might not know that. Stand back or I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room."

NO! Don't take mom away! Mom! His throat convulsed, but words didn't come out, a hoarse, frantic chirp and screech did, like a cat and a hawk all rolled into one. The odd weight on his back jerked and started to flare only to be brought to a sharp halt by a set of straps and Izuku realized with a jolt that he shouldn't be able to feel the straps because his back wasn't touching it, the weights were, so why-?

The nurse stepped closer into his field of vision, her bright purple skin was very distracting, "Izuku-chan? Izuku-chan, can you understand me? Izuku-chan, if you can understand me, I need you to look at me, okay? I need you to focus on me." Obedience managed to win out over panic, if only barely, and instead of trying to look over his shoulder at the mystery weight, he focused his attention on the nurse.

What's going on? What happened to me? He tried to say, but only a choke whine and trill came out, his tongue moving strangely in his mouth as he tried to speak. He froze, and the nurse kept talking in a soothing voice, "I know you're confused, but it's okay. It's alright. You were involved in an incident with a villain a week ago, but you're going to be okay. Do you understand? Nod if you understand."

Slowly, with his head feeling very weird —if he was lying flat on his stomach, how was he looking at her when his head was level? Shouldn't it be more tilted?— Izuku nodded to the nurse's question, trying to remember the incident she'd just mentioned.

Something in the nurse's shoulders unwound, "Very good. Now, do you know this woman? Nod if you do." Izuku nodded immediately, of course he knew his mother!

Inko's face crumpled with relief and she pushed her way past the nurse to cradle Izuku's face gingerly in her hands —and when had his chin gotten so big she could fit both hands on it without touching his cheeks?—, "Izuku…!"

The nurse shifted so that Izuku could see her better —even though he could already see her just fine—, "Alright. I'm going to remove the oxygen mask, Izuku-chan. I need you to stay still and calm, alright?" He managed to bob a nod. Her shoulder nudged Inko gently to one side as her hands reached out and rested against his neck with a touch so light he could barely feel it. She gently unwound the mask and lifted it free of his face.

His sense of smell hit him like a slap to the face and he buried his head in his hands to try to protect his nose. The disinfectant that always made his nose itch now burned, and somewhere nearby something smelled sour in a way that shouted sad-worried-angry-sad-worried to some part of Izuku's brain. His mother fluttered, and the nurse said something about enhanced senses and how they would have to move him to an animal-quirk orientated section of the hospital once it was safe to do so.

Animal-quirk? I don't have a quirk… his eyes drifted open in grudging curiosity-

And he found himself staring down at hands that weren't hands.

Those are paws. Those are scaly paws. Those can't be mine can they? His head jerked out of his hands —paws, those were paws how-how-how— and he stared down at them in a horrified sort of fascination. He tried to wiggle his fingers, the long black claws wiggled instead. He rotated his palms, the pad of the paws came into view. The nurse was talking and he could hear her, but the words washed over him without meaning as he hastily examined his body, a high, rolling trill emerging from his throat in place of the frantic muttering he usually did. His arms were black, scaly legs, parts of his head kept moving frantically back and forth —ears? He needed a mirror—. A twist of his head to look over his shoulder revealed a long, black-green scaled body with a pair of huge, leathery wings quivering against the bed restraints and an agitated lashing tail he could feel brushing over the sheets and smacking against the bed rails.

This can't be my body-what-happened-to-my-BODY- "Izuku!" His mother was suddenly there, holding his face —muzzle— in both hands, looking deep into his eyes as she took exaggerated, shaky breaths and told him to breathe with her, "Just breathe, Izuku, it's going to be okay, just breathe. In, out, in, out. That's it … that's it."

His breathing hitched and his shoulders —wings, giant bat wings— hunched against the restraints, "Mom…" the plea was a mournful moan and despite the familiar tickles of a panic attack in the back of his head, his eyes stayed wide and dry —even though, just this once, he wanted so badly to cry and cry and cry—. His mother's green eyes were wobbling with tears, but she kept smiling, kept breathing with him until he felt like the world wasn't about to shatter apart —yet— and the nurse was able to approach with an apologetic expression, an explanation, and a mirror.

She told him about the villain attack —he remembered that, remembered fear and horror and Kacchan in danger and then pain-pain-pain—. She explained how he'd been taken to the hospital after the villain had used his quirk on Izuku. She explained that there was nothing they could do to reverse this, but it would be alright anyway because there were programs and people specially designed and trained to help people with animal-based mutation quirks and those things would work for him too. She told him not to panic.

Several minutes later, Izuku stared at the stranger in the mirror —the creature, the monster— and tried to wrap his brain around the fact that the thing staring back at him wasn't his own face that he'd known all his life, but a little black-green Night Fury with large, terrified green eyes and oversized ear flaps twitching spasmodically against it's skull.

A few things clicked slowly into place.

The villain had a quirk that transfigured people according to what he was thinking about.

Kacchan had been wearing a t-shirt with the main dragon of the new fantasy movie on it —Toothless, a Night Fury—.

Izuku was a Night Fury now.

His eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted dead away.