Midoriya Izuku knew pain. He knew all too well, the pain of his mother's absence. The pain of his father's fist cracking against his skull. The pain of being an outcast. The pain of being alive.

On the outside, he was a quirkless nobody. Never to be seen or heard. Nothing more than the bottom of the societal food chain. A punching bag for the world, for his childhood friend who was once Izuku's sweet escape from madness. Now, the boy simply had a penchant for burning Izuku.

But Midoryia Izuku had a secret… well, multiple really.

Izuku has a quirk.

Izuku is going to be a hero.

Really, he's always liked to play with fire.

—

Izuku watched from afar as Bakugou Katsuki, his childhood friend turned rival, held his hands out palm up, setting off his quirk. The small explosions crackled in his palms. The boys eyes held a menacing spark as he looked around in an attempt to find Izuku. Bakugou had chased Izuku from the front gates of Aldera Middle all the way to Izuku's house. He had managed to lose the blond boy with a quick turn down an alley and leaping towards the fire escape ladder that lead to the small apartment complex in which he lived.

"Fucking Deku, when I catch your scrawny ass at school tomorrow, you're gonna wish.."

Bakugou turned to leave, his voice becoming unintelligible as he walked back towards his own home. Izuku sighed, his lungs aching for oxygen as he straightened out his uniform and brushed the dirt from his sleeves. Bakugou had gotten especially violent recently. Their homeroom teacher had announced that Izuku was planning to go to UA. Not only that, but he was going to apply for the hero course. Izuku shook his head as he remembered the whispers his classmates had spoken just loud enough for him to hear.

"He thinks he can be a hero?"

"He's just a quirkless wannabe playing pretend"

"Deku? A hero? That's hilarious"

The comments meant little these days. They could say whatever they wanted about Izuku. He had heard it all. He learned to stuff his emotions away by the age of six. They sat in a pretty little box in his chest, never to be opened, never to be dealt with. No one could hurt him anymore. Not after his mother. He had done that all on his own. The only one Izuku could really blame…was himself. Izuku made his way down to the apartment he stayed in. It hadn't been home in a long time. His hands tightened around the straps of his backpack as the apartment door swung open, revealing a very, very angry Hisashi.

"Come on boy, don't make me wait." His father yanked him into the small apartment, slamming the door loudly.

"You're late." The man said with a huff.

Izuku stayed silent. There was no way to appease this man. Speaking up and staying quiet resulted in the same outcome. Izuku simply focused on his own breathing, willing that floating feeling to find him. To get him through the night.

Don't cry

Don't cry

Don't c-

Spit flew out of the younger boys mouth as the steel-toed boot made contact with his stomach. He managed to stay quiet. As he gasped for air, the assault didn't stop. Fists, boots, a belt. They all mercilessly assaulted his small body, over and over and over and over and over and over. Suddenly, Izuku felt the fog slide over his mind like a vicious blanket. The sounds of his own pained grunts and moans become muted. He had no idea how long it continued. It felt like days, weeks…eternity. Eventually, the floating feeling, his only solace, was ripped from his mind as Hisashi grabbed his jaw and turned his face up from where Izuku had collapsed onto the floor. The man was speaking. Izuku just looked at him with glazed over eyes. A hand came in contact with his face with a sickening noise that rang throughout the living room. Sound finally ripped through his eardrums. Hisashi was screaming at him. The pain in his body finally made itself known. Everything hurt. His head was throbbing in time with his quickened heartbeat.

"LOOK! Look what you fucking did!"

Hisashi dropped Izuku's face, the feeling of his bruising grip lingering on the smaller boy's skin. He grabbed Izuku's wrists and yanked his hands into the boy's line of site. Izuku gasped in fear as he watched the sickly, unnatural green substance leak from his palms. The little box in his chest sprang open with the panic, exploding with the weight of his own emotions.

"I-I'm sorry, I did-didn't mean t-to." The boy stuttered out frantically, trying to calm himself.

He had been so good. It's been months since he slipped. Bakugou must have added extra stress. He got too comfortable in the floating state. He forgot to keep his anger in check. He's been so good!

"You're fucking toxic. Look at me boy." Hisashi was more angry than Izuku had ever seen him. His hands began to tremble as he hid them behind his back. Shakily, he looked up at his father.

"I-I'm sorry." It meant nothing as Hisashi's hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing menacingly.

"What kind of hero has death in the palm of their hands? You're never going to be a hero. You are worthless as anything but a villain. Look me in the eyes boy. What are you?" He grinned, lips pulled over his teeth and laced with nothing but hatred. He stopped squeezing the boy's throat, waiting for a response.

"I-I'm worthless."

"What else, boy?"

"I will never be a hero. I'm worthless as anything other than a…."

"Don't.Make.Me.Repeat.Myself."

"I am a villain. I'm worthless as anything but a villain." Izuku could feel his eyes burning, threatening to let tears fall. He refused. Izuku will not cry. Stuff it back into the box. His chest felt like it would explode. No. No. Put the mask back on. Bring the floating feeling back.

Hisashi dropped him completely and threw one last punch to his stomach before stalking off into the apartment. It took longer than normal, but eventually, Izuku pulled himself off the floor. Pain shot through his legs and up his spine. He limped to the bathroom, passing through the kitchen on his way. He glanced at the fridge. The heavy duty lock round the handles taunted him as his stomach growled. He let out a small, pained whine as he continued to the bathroom.

Locking the door, Izuku stripped his clothes off to inspect his torso. Dark, purple bruises flourished everywhere. There was a hand shaped mark around his neck. It hurt to breathe. He probably had at least one broken rib, of not more. He pressed his hands into his stomach, hissing as he felt for swelling. When he found none, he let out a breath of relief. At least he didn't have any internal bleeding. As far as he could tell anyway. He quickly moved into the shower, turning it on and letting the ice-cold water wash over his shoulders. He began to shiver as he washed his hair and body as fast as possible. The water never got warm. He got out and dried himself off, the relentless pounding in his head never easing up and throwing his balance off. Maybe a concussion. He's had those before. It should be fine.

Izuku quietly creeped from the bathroom, listening for any sign that Hisashi was up and about. When he heard nothing, he scrambled to the room where he slept. He shut the door quietly behind him as he scanned his room. The paint on the walls chipped and dirty. He wasn't allowed many possessions, but he had a mattress with a small pillow and blanket shoved in the corner of the room. Beside the mattress, a small dresser with three drawers. It held his school uniforms and the few other random articles of clothing that Izuku had stolen. He threw his backpack ( It somehow managed to stay on through Hisashi's assault) onto the floor next to his mattress and slowly sank down onto the bed. Izuku pulled out a first aid kit he had also stolen. He spent the next hour cleaning and wrapping all of the welts and open wounds from the belt.

He was exhausted by the time he finished, but he had work to do. He pulled a notebook out of his bag and began writing notes on workouts and weigh training. He added more for combat. Izuku decided he would use the school computers the next day to research and put together a training schedule. He had about a year and a half until he could apply to UA, and he needed to start bulking up and getting stronger as soon as possible. Blinking his eyes tiredly, he finished up the notes and returned his notebook to his bag. He laid back on his mattress, staring at the ceiling. Hesitantly, he lifted one of his hands and produced a single bead of the neon green, thick liquid. He couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

Midoriya Izuku. Quirk- Poisoned Rage.

He was nothing but poison. Toxic.