Izuku had never planned to become a vigilante. He'd introduced himself to that woman as Petit Lion, but it was more of a split second decision than anything. He just didn't want his actions to be associated with his old name but after that, he'd started thinking. Wouldn't this be the perfect way to gain fighting experience? This way, he could get stronger and help people at the same time. And since vigilantism was defined as using your quirk without a license, he technically wouldn't be breaking any laws if he let his enemies strike first. It was ingenious! Well, it was never that simple. There would be a lot of problems- most obviously, avoiding capture. The heroes and police force had no way of knowing about his quirklessness, so they'd be trying to arrest him. And that definitely couldn't happen.
It's not like he'd be put in jail if he was caught, but he would be put into the childcare system and sent to who knows where, and if that happened he wouldn't be able to attend UA. Therefore, discovery of his identity was a no-no. Luckily- or maybe unluckily- Izuku lived in the bad part of town, where few heroes tended to bother with. Even if he did vigilante work here, he suspected the police would leave him be as long as he wasn't causing harm. They already had too much to deal with and would most likely see him as a helpful presence if anything. It was basically free real estate. At the very least, he'd probably have time to gain sufficient fighting experience for avoiding capture.
That was one thing out of the way, but he was far from home free. He'd need supplies: support gear, weapons, a costume, and a voice-changer to hide his identity. And since he was broke to boot, buying them wasn't feasible in the near future. He'd have to scrounge them up from somewhere, or make them himself, find some other solution. And then there was the issue of time. As in he didn't have enough of it. He already had enough responsibilities, but vigilante work would introduce several more into the mix. Obviously there were the night patrols, but there was also creating and doing maintenance on support gear, researching nearby villains and crime hotspots, monitoring any local gangs, organizations, or syndicates... Finding the time and energy to do all of those things on top of everything else would be a taxing job in itself.
He'd tried to apply for online classes to free up his schedule, but he wouldn't have been able to start until the next semester even if he'd been approved. Which he hadn't been: the teacher had scoffed at him for "trying to get out of school" and thrown his application in the trash. That meant that he was stuck attending Aldera Junior High for eight hours a day five times a week, facing prejudice from the teachers and blatant cruelty and sabotage from the students. Despite the circumstances, he'd still have to maintain his perfect grades and somehow find enough time to study on top of physical training, four or five part time jobs, and now his extra vigilante duties. His sleeping time would be cut down to virtually zero.
But if he ever messed up, let himself fall asleep in school even once, or let his crankiness take over and tried to talk back, the teacher would be on his case and a mark would be on his school record. He couldn't have that if he was trying for a prestigious hero academy. He would have to be completely perfect, constantly, or it would all be over. Izuku was getting a headache just thinking about it. Even so, he wasn't giving up. He was going to help people no matter what. This was only the first trial. If he couldn't handle this, then he'd never be able to save anyone. So he had to succeed here. He had to become a hero. He had to.
Two Years. Two whole years had passed since Petit Lion's debut, and they had been some of the most exhausting of his entire life. Which was saying a lot. His daily routine was something like this: At around 7:45 AM, Izuku would start his 45-minute run to school, always arriving a few minutes before the first bell. He'd diligently pay attention in classes and take notes, of which he always made several copies to safeguard from his classmates' sabotage. At lunch, he'd eat whatever meager amount he'd brought and hadn't been stolen from him, then either do work or sleep through the period in order to survive the rest of the school day.
At 3:30 sharp, he'd dash out of the building in an attempt to avoid Bakugo and his lackeys. If his escape succeeded, then he alternated between training and scrap-scrounging at Dagobah Beach and working one of his several part-time jobs. After that he would work on his support gear or study for a while. He tried to work ahead in all subjects; his teachers had a habit of quizzing him on things they hadn't covered in class and punishing him when he couldn't answer.
And finally, his night patrols. This was Izuku's favorite activity, since it gave him a chance to get rid of some pent-up stress through beating up bad guys. He would patrol through the late hours until they were so late that they were early, and he never stopped until at least 6:30 AM. Sometimes he stayed out as late as 7:30- just fifteen minutes before he had to leave for school.
If he did end up finishing his patrols early, he would do some last-minute cramming or go for a morning jog. Maybe get a half-hour of sleep if he was really lucky. Then he would take a quick shower, chug some coffee, eat something quick if he had time, and do it all over again. Izuku was more tired than he thought was humanly possible. The only reason he was still standing was due to a combination of an ungodly amount of coffee and energy drinks, his far too short naps during lunch period, and sheer willpower. Although he had yet to make a mistake, he was just barely hanging on.
Not to mention that his situation at school was only getting worse. Red spider lilies had begun to appear on his desk almost daily, usually accompanied with notes or even carvings on the desk itself. It had hurt to see them in the beginning, but now they were just a part of his daily routine. He adjusted to them quickly, and soon they more or less stopped affecting him. After all, they were simply affirmations of what he already knew to be true.
He got the feeling something was wrong with that thought process, but it was ironically one of the only things keeping him together (well, as together as he was). Thinking that he deserved everything was so much easier than thinking that he didn't, that all his suffering had been for no good reason... that all his pain had just been the result of some bad luck. He doubted he could handle that, so he completely shut out the possibility of it from his mind. That's right. There was no point in getting upset because people were telling him the truth. That's what he told himself, at least.
Because getting upset wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't erase the carvings on his desk. Nor would it erase the eviction notice he'd found on his apartment door this morning: the owner had been arrested for drug dealing, so the building was set to be shut down and bulldozed by the end of the month. Just in case he hadn't noticed the giant middle finger that the whole universe seemed to be giving him.
He could pity himself all he wanted, but that wouldn't find him a new place to live. Maybe at this point it would be better to just stay on the streets or at a homeless shelter? He barely spent that much time at home anyway, since he was usually out at school, a job, or a patrol. But he needed an address to list for the school... well, did he really? He doubted the school would care too much even if he became homeless, but his stuff might get stolen in a shelter, and there were people who deserved that bed more than he did anyways. On the other hand, living on the streets would cause a lot of problems. Nowhere to put his essential things, weathering the elements and freezing weather... he wouldn't have to pay rent if he lived on the streets though, so maybe he could just buy more warm clothes with the extra cash. Even then-
"Hey, Deku! The fuck are you mumbling about?" The thirteen-year old internally groaned. Had he been muttering out loud? He should have known better than that. But he really, really didn't have the energy for this. Maybe, by some miracle, the boy would go away if he didn't respond, so he said nothing. He soon realized that this had been a mistake. "Why won't you answer me, shitnerd?! Are you scared or something?" Bakugo taunted. Izuku stayed silent, returning his insult with a smile and a mumbled.
"Good m-morning." A hero always smiles no matter how bad the situation is. They never let anyone see their weakness, and they inspire hope through their very presence. He reminded himself. Recently he'd taken to plastering a smile on his face at all times for that reason. He was used to acting through pain anyway, and sometimes it seemed to creep Bakugo out enough to get him to leave him alone for a while. Not today though, apparently.
"Who do you think you're talking to, YA LITTLE SHIT," Bakugo roared. He slammed his hands into Izuku's desk with a thwack and made an explosion that sent splinters of wood flying through the room. The greenette's grin didn't drop even as he was sent flying out of his chair, shrapnel piercing his skin. He knew that the second he so much as flinched, he'd be accused of disrupting lessons and sent to detention. Katsuki leaned forward and grabbed the boy's collar. "You think you're a hotshot, huh? You're just a shitty Deku, so give it the fuck up already before I make you. Got it?" The blond growled. His tone was somehow more vicious than usual.
"I-if you s-say s-so, Kacchan," Izuku smiled. He didn't consider Bakugo a friend anymore, not by a long shot, but the nickname was a good way to passive-aggressively annoy him.
"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT! I'LL KILL YOU!" The bully roughly threw him back, and he held back a wince. One of the splinters was aggravating a wound from last night's patrol. He hoped it wouldn't get infected. It would be a hassle to pick all the wood bits out later. "Tch. Shitty bastard," Katsuki stalked away with a final glower at Izuku, who grinned back in response. God, he was tired. He hoped lunch would come soon. Finally, the teacher entered the classroom to start the lesson.
"Okay class, it's time to talk about high school opportunities!" The teacher set a stack of forms on his desk. "I'd pass these out, but you all want to be heroes, right?" The class roared with excitement. All the kids hollered and activated their quirks for everyone to see, chests puffed with overinflated pride and mostly unattainable dreams. Izuku sat still and watched the spectacle. Kacchan will explode in 3... 2... 1...
"Hey, teach, don't lump me in with these weaklings! They'd be lucky to be sidekicks to fucking D-Listers," growled a certain pomeranian. The other students began to grumble at this, but were silenced by Bakugo's screech of "shut up, extras!"
"Ah yes, Bakugo. You're aiming for UA, right?"
"I'm not aiming, I'm fucking GOING to UA! I'm gonna graduate and surpass All Might to become the #1 Hero and be the richest person in the world! HEAR THAT, YA SHITTY EXTRAS?!" The room exploded in noise again, but the teacher brought order back to the class before continuing. His voice dripped with disdain as he squinted at his clipboard and said, "And it seems Midoriya is trying for UA as well. Isn't that right, Midoriya?" Gee, thanks for that, teach. Everyone besides Bakugo and Izuku burst into laughter, and the teacher didn't bother to stop them this time.
"You, going to UA?! No way!"
"You'd die in the entrance exams!"
"You have to know how to do more than study to get into the hero class, moron."
"FUCKING DEKU!" Katsuki exploded Izuku's desk for the second time that day (strangely enough, that wasn't the record of times his desk had gotten blown up within one day of school; the record was- if you were interested- seven, and he, not Bakugo, had gotten an after-school detention to clean up all the debris). "WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU THINK A WEAK LITTLE SHIT LIKE YOU COULD COMPETE AGAINST ME, HUH?! WHAT COULD A QUIRKLESS LIKE YOU EVEN DO ANYWAY?!"
"S-s-sorry..." Look on the bright side. It could've been worse, he could have found your no-
"Hey. What the fuck is this supposed to be?" I jinxed it, didn't I? Katsuki picked up the notebook, Izuku's notebook, the notebook that had taken three months of slaving away at part-time jobs to buy, and his face twisted with loathing at the title. Izuku prayed that what was about to happen wasn't what he was thinking. "Hero Analysis For the Future? You've gotta be shitting me! HOW DELUSIONAL CAN YOU BE?!"
Every cell in Izuku's body screamed at him to do something, throttle Bakugo and save the book, but instead he watched in muted horror as the scent of burning paper filled the room with a loud bang. He sat in his seat and smiled his stupid fake smile that made him feel like his lips were being held in place by tenterhooks, and he watched the product of all his months of hard work be incinerated in seconds.
He wanted to cry. He'd take a thousand exploded desks over this. Hell, he thought he'd take a thousand explosions on his body over this. But Bakugo always went for what he knew would hurt the most. His knowledge when it came to that was vast to a frightening degree. Ashes and sparks fell to the floor, yet the bully wasn't satisfied. He raised his arm back and hurled the burnt notebook out of the window. Splash. There went his dreams.
Izuku stared numbly at the place where his book had once been minutes ago. His idiotic smile was still glued to his face. He wouldn't give the other boy the satisfaction of seeing him upset. Katsuki broke the silence with his next words.
"If you really wanna be a hero so badly, take a swan dive off the roof and hope for a quirk in your next life!" The room descended back into stillness. The only sound was the soft sizzle of the remaining embers, blinking in and out of existence. Everyone was watching with bated breath. He could feel their eyes drilling holes into him, judging him. He showed no reaction to this, nor did he react to the eye-watering smoke burning his nostrils and itching at his lungs. He hated smoke. But he still said nothing and rose, shivering, to sit down at the charred remains of his desk.
He refused to give in. He wouldn't let his hands tremble here. His instincts still roared at him to act- he had to get the book back before it was ruined beyond repair- but he couldn't just run out of the classroom. He wasn't sure what his punishment would be, but he knew that it was something he couldn't afford to have on his record if he was going to try for UA. It would be hard enough for a Quirkless person to get in anyways; he couldn't give them any more reason to reject him.
So he stared at the board. Waited for the lesson to resume. And let his emotions drain out of him until all that was left was a familiar hollowness enveloping his chest, muffling his senses as if cotton had been placed into his eyes and ears. He didn't feel anything. He didn't care about the notebook. This was nothing. He would not let himself be weak. Katsuki's right, you know. He clenched his hands harder. He would not be weak.
School was finally over for the day, but Izuku was unhappy. After retrieving his sopping notebook and assessing the damage- irreparable, as he'd feared- he'd promptly realized that he had to be at his part-time job in fifteen minutes, and it was all the way across town. Several miles away. If he didn't get there before his manager did, he'd be canned for sure, and he really needed the money. Izuku sped up and jogged into the underpass with a slight exhale. He hated being late, but he liked running. It relaxed him, forced him to expend energy on things that weren't his thoughts. It was a way to get out of his own head for a while. A part of him wished he could keep going forever- run so far that none of his problems would ever be able to catch up to him. It would be nice if things were that simple.
Of course, some days even running couldn't clear the thoughts swirling and mucking up his head like sewage in a drainage pipe. This was one of those days. His muscles strained uncomfortably with each step he took. He was tired. His constant beatings at school combined with his workouts and nightly vigilante patrols put an unthinkable amount of stress on his body, and as a result a thorough, constant, bone-deep exhaustion had settled into every inch of his being that never seemed to leave.
But more than that, he was tired of trying so hard all the time. He couldn't remember the last time he took a break, did nothing, or did something purely for fun. He never had time for unnecessary things like that. He could never let his guard down; he had to be vigilant 24/7. Constantly give his 100% while simultaneously wearing a smile. The burden that placed on him was back-breaking, yet he couldn't afford even a second of rest or else he knew he wouldn't be able to go on anymore.
He had to work harder than everyone else, be better, stronger, smarter, just to be considered equal to them, but that still wouldn't be enough. He had to be the best. Perfect. Even though he was already at such a disadvantage. It was tiring. He was tired. Tired.
Stop being so pathetic, an imaginary voice mocked. You chose this path for yourself, didn't you? Is your resolve so weak that it would falter at the first sign of trouble? You wanted to follow your dream, and now you're paying the price for it. It's no one's fault but your own.
Yes, that was right. Izuku had known what he was signing up for when he decided on his future. He had been aware of the risks, and of what he would have to do, yet he still chose it anyway. In doing so, he had accepted any and all of the consequences, hardships, trials, and pains that came with that choice. He'd done this to himself; he had no excuse. He didn't have the right to feel this way, nor did he deserve pity for his situation.
Just push it down and deal with it. You don't have the right to complain, since becoming a hero is the only reason you're alive anyways. If you let every single thing get to you like this, you'll never be able to survive when things get harder. You won't even be able to justify your reason for existence. You'll be more useless than you already are. Are you okay with that?
He balled his hands into fists. He couldn't give up on heroism. It was all he had. But did he deserve to have something like that? Him, the useless Deku who couldn't do anything, whose own parents left him because they couldn't stand to be around him anymore? Who was he kidding? He wasn't worthy of such a noble title. Was it all hopeless? Should he just give up? He was so caught up in his own thoughts and the pounding of his feet against concrete that he didn't notice the sludge creeping across the ground towards him.