The world had always been a harsh place for those who didn't fit in, especially for a boy like Izuku Midoriya. From the time he was a toddler, Izuku's fascination with heroes was evident. While other children played with action figures or watched cartoons, Izuku absorbed every bit of information about the pro heroes. He memorized their quirks, battles, and hero stats, dreaming of the day when he could join their ranks.
But dreams have a cruel way of clashing with reality.
By the time he was four years old, most of the other children had already manifested their quirks. Their abilities, however modest or extraordinary, began to shape their identities. But for Izuku, each passing day without a quirk was a reminder of his own powerlessness. His mother, Inko Midoriya, clung to the hope that her son's quirk would eventually surface, but the somber visit to Dr. Tsubasa confirmed what they both feared Izuku was quirkless.
The memory of that day was seared into Izuku's mind. The cold clinical room, the doctor's measured tone, and his mother's tearful apology replayed in his mind like a broken record. "I'm sorry, Izuku," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry…"
From that moment on, Izuku's world grew colder, not just from the outside but from within. School became a battleground where he was constantly reminded of his inadequacy. His classmates, once friends, now saw him as an outcast. And then there was Bakugou Katsuki, the boy who had once been his closest friend.
Katsuki, or Kacchan as Izuku used to call him, was the polar opposite of Izuku. Where Izuku was timid and cautious, Katsuki was brash and fearless. He was blessed with an extraordinary quirk that allowed him to create explosions from the sweat on his palms. From a young age, Katsuki had been told he was destined for greatness. He believed it too, and that belief hardened into arrogance as he grew older.
Katsuki's view of the world was simple, power was everything. Those without power were beneath him, and he had no qualms about showing them their place. Izuku's quirkless status made him the perfect target.
As they grew older, the gap between them widened. While Izuku continued to cling to his dream of becoming a hero, Katsuki began to see him as a delusional fool, someone who didn't deserve to exist in a world that prized strength above all else. The teasing that had once been playful turned cruel, and Katsuki made it his mission to remind Izuku of his inferiority at every opportunity.
But Izuku wasn't entirely alone. He had his mother, though she struggled with her own battles. Inko Midoriya was a kind and gentle woman, but she was weighed down by the burdens of life. The pressures of raising a quirkless child in a society that valued quirks above all else, combined with her own struggles with depression, left her feeling trapped and helpless.
She did her best to support Izuku, but there were days when the weight of her own sadness kept her from being there for him as much as she wanted to. She would often find herself sitting at the kitchen table long after Izuku had gone to bed, staring at the remnants of their dinner, wondering where she had gone wrong.
Izuku, for his part, tried to shield his mother from his pain. He would put on a brave face, pretending that the bullying didn't bother him as much as it did. He would assure her that he was fine, even when he came home with new bruises or torn clothes. But the truth was, the isolation and constant harassment were wearing him down.
The playground was a microcosm of the larger world, a place where the strong ruled, and the weak were pushed aside. At thirteen, Izuku had grown used to being on the fringes, observing rather than participating. He kept to himself, avoiding confrontation, yet always watching, always hoping that someday, something would change.
That hope flickered as he saw Bakugou approaching the smaller boy with the toy truck. Izuku's heart sank as he recognized the look in Bakugou's eyes, a look that promised trouble.
The younger boy, no older than 7, was blissfully unaware of the danger he was in. He was playing with his toy truck, making engine noises and imagining himself as a hero racing to save the day. It was a simple joy, one that Izuku had once known, but now seemed like a distant memory.
Bakugou's approach was slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. His gang of followers trailed behind him, laughing and egging him on. The other kids at the playground fell silent, watching with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
"Hey, brat," Bakugou sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "What do you think you're doing with that?"
The boy looked up, startled by the sudden attention. He clutched his toy truck closer, instinctively sensing the threat. "I I'm just playing…"
Bakugou's lip curled into a cruel smile. "Playing, huh? You think you're a hero or something?"
Before the boy could respond, Bakugou's hand flashed out, and with a small explosion, he sent the truck flying out of the boy's hands. The toy hit the ground with a dull thud, pieces scattering across the sand. The boy's eyes filled with tears as he looked at the ruined truck, the one his older brother had given him before leaving for overseas work. It was more than just a toy it was a connection to the brother he idolized, and now it lay in ruins.
Izuku felt a surge of anger. He had seen Bakugou do this too many times, but something about this particular act of cruelty struck a chord deep within him. Maybe it was the look of heartbreak on the younger boy's face, or maybe it was the realization that he couldn't keep standing by, letting this happen. Whatever it was, it pushed him to act.
"Kacchan, stop it," Izuku said, his voice steady but carrying an edge that hadn't been there before.
Bakugou turned slowly, his expression darkening as he saw who had spoken. "What did you say, Deku?"
The nickname, meant as an insult, had followed Izuku for years. It was a reminder of how powerless he was, how far below Bakugou he stood. But today, Izuku didn't flinch.
"I said, stop it," Izuku repeated, stepping forward. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his gaze locked on Bakugou's, refusing to back down.
Bakugou's eyes narrowed. "You really are a useless piece of trash, Deku. You think you can tell me what to do?"
The tension in the air was palpable. The other kids watched with bated breath, knowing that a confrontation was inevitable. Bakugou's pride wouldn't allow him to let this slide, and Izuku's determination wouldn't let him walk away.
Without warning, Bakugou launched a powerful explosion toward Izuku. The force of the blast sent him sprawling to the ground, pain shooting through his body as he hit the dirt. The laughter of Bakugou's followers echoed in his ears, but Izuku forced himself to his feet.
"Why won't you just stay down, Deku?" Bakugou growled, his hands crackling with explosive energy.
Izuku wiped the blood from his lip and faced Bakugou, a fire igniting in his eyes. "Because I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else."
Bakugou's expression shifted from anger to something more complex, a mix of confusion and frustration. He wasn't used to this. Izuku was supposed to be weak, pathetic, someone who would cower before him. But here he was, standing up, fighting back.
The fight that followed was brutal. Bakugou's explosions were relentless, each one more powerful than the last. But something had changed in Izuku. Every hit he took seemed to fuel a fire within him, a fire that burned brighter with each passing second.
Izuku's movements became sharper, his strikes more focused. He wasn't just enduring the blows he was learning from them, adapting, growing stronger. Bakugou noticed it too the way Izuku's eyes never lost their intensity, the way he kept pushing forward despite the pain.
For the first time in a long while, Bakugou felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in years of uncertainty. He had always believed that power was everything, that those without it were nothing. But Izuku was challenging that belief with every blow, with every defiant stand.
Finally, Bakugou unleashed one final explosion, the strongest he could muster. The blast was so intense that it sent Izuku crashing into the jungle gym, metal bars bending under the force.
Izuku lay on the ground, his body battered and bruised, his vision swimming. But even as darkness threatened to overtake him, he forced himself to stay conscious. He couldn't give up, not now, not ever.
"You're a freak, Deku," Bakugou spat, his face twisted in rage. "You're a quirkless waste of space, and you should've stayed down!"
Izuku struggled to his feet, his body screaming in pain. But despite the tears welling up in his eyes, there was something unyielding in his gaze. "I… I can't stay down, Kacchan. I have to try… I have to help."
Bakugou's fury flared even hotter, his hands sparking with tiny explosions. He couldn't comprehend why Izuku, someone he considered weak and worthless, kept getting back up. To him, Izuku was an anomaly, a mistake in a world where power dictated everything. The thought that a quirkless nobody could even think of challenging him made his blood boil.
"What makes you think you can help anyone?" Bakugou snarled, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You're quirkless, Deku. You're nothing. You're not a hero. You're a joke."
Around them, the other kids watched with sneers and snickers, some pointing and laughing at the sight of Izuku trying to stand up to Bakugou. No one stepped in to help. To them, it was just another day, another reminder that Izuku didn't belong.
Izuku's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay upright, to meet Bakugou's glare. "Even if I don't have a quirk… I won't give up. I'll find a way."
Bakugou's expression darkened. "You'll find a way? You think you can be a hero without a quirk?" He let out a harsh laugh, one filled with disdain. "You're even more delusional than I thought."
The other kids laughed too, some of them mimicking Bakugou's taunts. To them, Izuku was a fool, a dreamer with no place in a world built on power. But Izuku didn't flinch. He couldn't. This was his dream, the only thing that kept him going.
"Shut up!" Bakugou barked, his voice rising. The laughter stopped abruptly. He turned back to Izuku, his eyes narrowing. "You really think you can defy me, Deku? You think you're better than me?"
Izuku shook his head, swallowing hard. "I don't think I'm better than you, Kacchan. But I believe… I believe that everyone deserves a chance to be a hero, even someone like me."
Bakugou's hands clenched into fists, tiny explosions popping at his sides. "You're wrong, Deku. People like you don't deserve anything. You're just in the way!"
With that, Bakugou shoved Izuku to the ground again, the force knocking the wind out of him. Izuku gasped, struggling to breathe, but he refused to cry out. He wouldn't give Bakugou the satisfaction.
"Stay down, Deku," Bakugou sneered, standing over him. "You don't belong here."
As Bakugou walked away, his gang followed, casting mocking glances back at Izuku. The playground slowly emptied, leaving Izuku alone on the cold, hard ground. He could hear the distant laughter of the other kids, the echoes of their ridicule ringing in his ears.
Izuku lay on the ground for a moment, staring blankly at the sky. His body throbbed with pain, a constant reminder of the blows he had taken. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the loneliness that gnawed at him. He knew deep down that no one believed in him not his classmates, not the teachers, and certainly not his own mother.
Back at home, the door creaked open as Izuku quietly slipped inside. The apartment was silent, except for the faint sound of the television playing in the background. Inko Midoriya was slumped on the couch, her eyes glazed over as she mindlessly watched the screen. A half eaten plate of food sat on the coffee table, untouched for hours.
Inko didn't bother to look up when Izuku entered. She hadn't been paying attention to when he left, and she didn't care enough to greet him now. Her life had become a monotonous routine of work and isolation, her once bright spirit dimmed by years of disappointment and exhaustion. She had tried to fight it, to be a good mother, but the weight of the world had crushed any hope she had left.
She barely noticed the bruises or the torn clothes anymore. It wasn't that she didn't see them she just couldn't bring herself to care. The world had made it clear that quirkless people were worthless, and deep down, a part of her had started to believe it too. Izuku was fighting a losing battle, and Inko didn't have the strength to fight alongside him.
She glanced at the clock, realizing she hadn't prepared dinner yet. With a sigh, she hauled herself off the couch and shuffled to the kitchen. The clinking of dishes was the only sound in the otherwise empty apartment. She moved mechanically, her mind elsewhere, as she threw together a simple meal. There was no love in her actions, no concern for whether Izuku would even eat. It was just another chore, another obligation to fulfill before she could retreat back to her numb existence.
Izuku clenched his fists, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. But he refused to cry. Not now. Not in front of her. He had to be strong, not just for himself but because there was no one else who would be. He had to survive, to keep going, even when everything seemed hopeless.
As Inko set the food on the table, she mumbled something about it getting cold before disappearing back into the living room. Izuku sat down, staring at the unappetizing meal in front of him. He wasn't hungry, but he forced himself to eat anyway. He needed the strength to face another day, another round of bullying, another night of being ignored by the one person he wished would care.
When he finished, he quietly washed his plate and retreated to his room. The door clicked shut behind him, and he collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The pain in his body was a dull throb now, but the ache in his heart was sharper than ever. He knew he couldn't rely on anyone but himself. He was alone in this fight, but he wouldn't give up. He couldn't.
The next morning, Izuku walked to school alone, as he always did. His body still ached from yesterday's beating, but the physical pain was easier to bear than the looks he knew he'd get once he arrived. The whispers, the laughter, the pitying glances they were all part of his daily routine.
As he walked, he passed by groups of students, some of whom he recognized from his classes. They didn't greet him they never did. Some pointed and whispered, while others simply ignored him. Izuku kept his head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
He had learned a long time ago that no one was going to support his dream. Not his classmates, not the teachers, not even his own mother. But that was okay. He had accepted it. All he needed was his belief in himself, his determination to prove that he could become a hero, quirk or no quirk.
When he finally arrived at school, he could feel the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He walked through the hallways, keeping to the edges, trying to avoid drawing too much attention. But no matter how quiet he was, there was always someone who noticed him.
"Hey, look, it's Deku," a voice called out, and Izuku flinched, instinctively curling in on himself.
A group of boys from his class were leaning against the lockers, smirking at him. "What's the matter, Deku? You still think you can be a hero?"
Izuku forced himself to keep walking, ignoring their taunts. But his silence only seemed to egg them on.
"Come on, Deku, say something!" one of them jeered, stepping in front of him to block his path. "Or are you just going to run away like you always do?"
Izuku clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to say something, anything, to defend himself, but the words caught in his throat. He knew it wouldn't make a difference. They wouldn't listen. They never did.
Just as he was about to push past them, another voice cut through the crowd one that sent a shiver down Izuku's spine.
"What's going on here?"
The boys immediately stepped aside as Bakugou approached, his usual scowl firmly in place. He glared at Izuku, as if daring him to say something.
"What, Deku? You're still trying to be a hero?" Bakugou sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "How many times do I have to beat it into your thick skull? You're a loser. You're nothing. You should just give up already."
Izuku met Bakugou's gaze, his green eyes filled with a quiet determination. "I… I won't give up, Kacchan. I can't."
Bakugou's expression twisted with rage. He grabbed Izuku by the collar, slamming him against the lockers. "Why can't you just get it through your head, Deku? You're not like me. You'll never be like me."
Izuku winced at the impact but didn't look away. "I don't want to be like you, Kacchan…"
Bakugou usually reacts with an anger that scares any person, and grabbed Izuku's collar Bakugou's grip tightened on Izuku's collar, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to punch Izuku's face. But then, with a sneer, he shoved Izuku away, almost in disgust.
"You're not worth it," Bakugou muttered, turning his back on Izuku. "Just don't get in my way, Deku, or I'll crush you."
Izuku staggered but managed to stay on his feet, breathing heavily. As Bakugou walked away, his lackeys didn't follow immediately. They lingered, casting glances between each other, and then at Izuku, as if silently agreeing on what to do next.
"You're lucky Katsuki let you off easy, Deku," one of them sneered. "But don't think you're walking out of here without a lesson."
The knot of anxiety in Izuku's stomach tightened further. He knew what was coming he'd been in this situation before. But something inside him, something raw and untamed, flared to life at that moment. He couldn't let them win. Not today.
Without warning, one of the boys lunged at him, aiming a punch at his gut. But Izuku, fueled by the sudden fire burning within him, sidestepped just in time. The boy stumbled forward, surprised by the unexpected evasion, and Izuku instinctively threw a punch of his own, a wild uncoordinated swing that caught the boy on the side of the head.
The boy yelped, more out of shock than pain, and fell to the ground. For a brief second, the other kids just stared, wide eyed. They weren't used to Izuku fighting back. He was supposed to be the easy target, the punching bag that never hit back. But this time was different.
"What the hell, Deku?" one of the other boys shouted, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice now. He rushed forward, trying to grapple Izuku to the ground, but Izuku twisted out of his grasp, using his small size to his advantage.
The other boys, seeing their chance, closed in, throwing punches and kicks in a chaotic flurry. But Izuku, driven by sheer desperation and a deep seated resolve, moved faster than they expected. He ducked, dodged, and blocked as best as he could, even though he had no formal training.
A punch grazed his cheek, another landed on his shoulder, but Izuku didn't go down. He couldn't go down. He refused to. The adrenaline surging through his veins kept him going, kept him on his feet. He had to prove it to them, to himself that he wasn't worthless, that he wasn't just some quirkless nobody.
As the fight dragged on, Izuku's vision began to blur, his muscles aching from the strain. But the fire inside him only burned hotter, fueling his every move. He could hear their taunts, feel their blows, but he pushed through the pain, drawing on every ounce of strength he had left.
At one point, he grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and threw it into one of the boys' eyes. The kid screamed, stumbling back, and Izuku took the opportunity to land a kick to his gut, sending him crashing to the ground.
Another boy tried to grab Izuku from behind, but Izuku twisted free, slamming his elbow into the boy's ribs. The boy let out a grunt of pain, releasing him. Izuku didn't stop there he spun around and delivered a punch to the boy's face, sending him reeling.
Izuku's heart pounded in his chest as he faced the remaining boys. The first taste of victory had given him a surge of adrenaline, but the odds were still stacked against him. His knuckles throbbed with pain, his body was already bruised, and he was outnumbered. But none of that mattered. He couldn't back down now, not after everything he had been through.
The largest of the boys, a burly kid named Daichi, stepped forward. His quirk, though seemingly trivial, made Izuku's blood run cold. Daichi could harden his skin to the toughness of rock, a minor quirk compared to some, but more than enough to give him a brutal advantage in a fistfight. The other boys seemed to gain confidence from Daichi's advance, their sneers returning as they circled Izuku like predators.
"You got lucky with those hits, Deku," Daichi taunted, his voice low and threatening. "But let's see you try that on me."
Izuku swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay focused. He could feel the bruises forming on his body, but the fire inside him wouldn't let him give up. He clenched his fists, readying himself for the inevitable onslaught.
Daichi charged first, his hardened fist swinging toward Izuku's head with the force of a hammer. Izuku barely dodged in time, the air whistling past his ear as Daichi's punch missed by inches. Izuku knew that one solid hit from Daichi could knock him out cold, but he couldn't afford to hesitate. He ducked low and aimed a punch at Daichi's midsection, hoping to catch him off guard.
But it was like hitting a wall. Daichi's rock hard skin absorbed the impact, and Izuku winced in pain as his knuckles met the unyielding surface. Daichi grinned wickedly, grabbing Izuku by the collar and lifting him off the ground with ease.
"Nice try, Deku," Daichi sneered. "But you're out of your league."
With a powerful swing, Daichi hurled Izuku across the ground. Izuku's body slammed into the dirt, pain radiating through his bones. He groaned, struggling to catch his breath as the other boys closed in around him.
Another boy, Keigo, stepped forward. His quirk allowed him to generate small but sharp blades of wind from his fingertips. Though not particularly strong, they were dangerous enough to cause superficial cuts. Keigo smirked as he flicked his fingers, sending a barrage of wind blades slicing through the air toward Izuku.
Izuku rolled to the side just in time, narrowly avoiding the barrage. But Keigo wasn't done. He kept up the assault, forcing Izuku to keep moving, ducking and dodging to avoid the relentless attacks. The wind blades sliced through his clothes, leaving shallow cuts on his arms and legs.
Izuku's breathing grew ragged, his muscles screaming in protest. He was losing strength fast, but he couldn't stop now. Not with everything on the line.
Just then, another boy, Sota, joined the fray. His quirk allowed him to manipulate small objects with telekinesis. Though weak on its own, it was more than enough to make Izuku's situation even worse. Sota used his quirk to hurl small rocks and debris at Izuku, pelting him from all sides.
Izuku gritted his teeth, using his arms to shield his face as the barrage continued. Each hit sent jolts of pain through his body, but he forced himself to keep going. He had to find a way out had to turn the tide somehow.
As he dodged another of Keigo's wind blades, Izuku's mind raced. These boys had quirks each one giving them an advantage, no matter how small. And yet, despite everything, Izuku couldn't help but feel a burning determination in his chest. They had quirks, but they didn't have what he had. They didn't have his will, his fire, his sheer refusal to give up.
As Sota prepared to hurl another rock at him, Izuku saw his chance. He dashed forward, ignoring the pain in his legs, and grabbed a fistful of dirt from the ground. Just as Sota launched the rock, Izuku flung the dirt into Sota's face, blinding him.
Sota yelped, stumbling back as he rubbed his eyes, and in that moment of distraction, Izuku closed the gap. He swung his fist upward, aiming for Sota's jaw. The punch connected with a satisfying thud, sending Sota sprawling to the ground.
But there was no time to celebrate. Daichi and Keigo were on him in an instant, and Izuku had to move fast. He ducked under Daichi's swinging fist, but the hardened knuckles grazed his shoulder, sending a shock of pain down his arm. Keigo's wind blades were next, slicing through the air dangerously close to Izuku's face.
Izuku felt his energy draining, his vision blurring at the edges. He couldn't keep this up forever. But as long as he could stand, as long as he could fight, he wouldn't stop. He couldn't.
Drawing on the last reserves of his strength, Izuku lashed out. He grabbed a broken piece of wood from the ground, a crude, makeshift weapon, but it was better than nothing. He swung it with all his might at Daichi's head. The wood splintered against Daichi's hardened skull, but it was enough to stagger him.
Keigo came at him from the side, but Izuku was ready. He ducked low, driving his shoulder into Keigo's gut and knocking the wind out of him. Keigo doubled over, gasping for breath, and Izuku seized the opportunity to grab him by the arm and toss him to the ground.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. Izuku stood there, panting, his body trembling from the effort. The three boys lay scattered around him, groaning in pain and disbelief. They had quirks, and yet… they had lost.
Izuku could hardly believe it himself. His body was battered and bruised, his limbs felt like they were made of lead, but he had done it. He had won.
But as the adrenaline began to fade, reality set in. The boys wouldn't take this lying down. They would come after him again harder, stronger, angrier. And next time, he might not be so lucky.
Izuku's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He looked up to see the boys slowly getting to their feet, their expressions twisted with rage and humiliation.
"You… you're gonna pay for this, Deku," Daichi growled, wiping blood from his mouth. "We'll make sure you never forget it."
Izuku swallowed hard, the fire in his chest flickering uncertainly. But he stood his ground, meeting Daichi's glare with one of his own. "I won't back down," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "I'll keep fighting… no matter what."
With a final, hateful glare, the boys turned and walked away, nursing their wounds and muttering curses under their breath. Izuku watched them go, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.
As they disappeared from sight, Izuku finally allowed himself to collapse to the ground, his body screaming in pain. But even as the aches and bruises made themselves known, he couldn't help but feel a small, hard won sense of triumph.
He had done it. He had stood up for himself, fought against the odds, and come out on top. But more than that, he had proven to himself that he wasn't weak, that he wasn't just a quirkless nobody. He was Izuku Midoriya, and he would become a hero no matter what anyone said.
As he lay there, staring up at the sky, a new resolve took root in his heart. This was just the beginning. The road ahead would be long and full of challenges, but he would face them head on. He had to. Because if he didn't… who would?