Disclaimer: I do not own Boku No Hero Academia.
The early morning air was crisp, the faint hum of students chattering filling the schoolyard as groups of friends loitered near the gate, laughing, exchanging stories from the weekend, unbothered by the weight of another school day. But for Izuku Midoriya, mornings were never peaceful.
The footsteps behind him were rapid, aggressive, and all too familiar.
"Beat it, twerp," Katsuki Bakugo's voice rang out, sharp, cutting through the mundane drone of the schoolyard. "Or else I'm gonna beat your quirkless ass!"
The words were nothing new, and yet, no matter how often he heard them, they always landed like a punch to the gut. Izuku flinched on instinct, his entire body tensing as he clutched his bag tighter to his chest. His heartbeat quickened, his breath hitched, and for a split second, he braced himself for impact.
But nothing came.
Slowly, hesitantly, Izuku peeked through the small gap between his arms, only to find that Katsuki had already walked past him, his usual entourage trailing behind him, laughing at his expense.
He exhaled shakily, his grip loosening around his bag.
"Great, right in the morning I have to deal with this," he muttered under his breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension in his shoulders.
Laughter erupted from behind him, cruel and mocking, Katsuki's friends no doubt continuing to revel in his humiliation. Izuku didn't need to turn around to know that they were talking about him. He could feel their eyes burning into the back of his head, waiting for him to react, to give them another reason to ridicule him.
He straightened his posture, inhaling deeply, willing himself to focus.
"One day, I'll prove him wrong."
The thought settled deep within him, not quite as firm as he wished it to be, still fighting to exist despite the overwhelming doubt clawing at the edges of his mind.
Many years ago, Katsuki Bakugo had been his friend. They had spent their childhood idolizing the same hero, dreaming of becoming the next great protectors of society, racing down the streets with imaginary capes fluttering behind them. But that time had passed. The moment quirks manifested in their generation, the gap between them had stretched wide and unrelenting. Katsuki, with his explosive power, had been celebrated, admired. Izuku, with nothing, had been abandoned, discarded, and eventually... hated.
What had started with name-calling had grown into something much worse. Ostracization. Isolation. Violence. And yet, somehow, Izuku had never truly hated him back. He didn't have the energy to.
The sun continued its slow ascent, its golden light peeking through the gaps in the school building, casting long shadows across the pavement. He shook off the weight of the morning's encounter and made his way inside. The school bell rang just as he reached the entrance as Izuku's stomach plummeted. "I'm late!"
His feet moved before his brain could properly process it, his legs burning as he sprinted through the halls, weaving through students who barely spared him a glance. By the time he reached the classroom door, his lungs were on fire, his forehead damp with sweat, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. With a sharp inhale, he yanked the door open as a loud thud echoed through the room as the entire class turned in unison, eyes locking onto him like a spotlight.
"Ah," the teacher drawled, unimpressed. "Midoriya, what a surprise."
Izuku swallowed thickly, his throat raw from the sudden exertion. "S-Sorry, I—"
"You're late," the teacher cut him off, barely sparing him a glance as he marked something on the attendance sheet. "Not the best way to start your third year, is it?"
Izuku's gaze dropped to the floor, embarrassment scorching through him as he forced out a small nod. "I—I know. It won't happen again."
There was a beat of silence before the teacher waved a dismissive hand. "There's only one seat left. Sit down so we can begin." Izuku nodded quickly, shuffling between the rows of desks, keeping his head down as he avoided the gazes of his classmates. As soon as he sat down, he exhaled softly, willing himself to become as small and unnoticeable as possible.
The hushed whispers started almost immediately.
"Apart from being quirkless, he's also careless now? What's the point?"
"Does he actually think he can keep up here?"
"I heard he put down U.A. on his future plans. U.A." A snicker. "As if he has a chance."
Izuku's grip tightened on the edge of his desk. A dull thunk hit the back of his chair. He tensed, recognizing the presence behind him before he even turned his head.
Katsuki smirked down at him, his red eyes gleaming with something dangerous.
"Guess we're gonna have fun this year, huh, Deku?"
Izuku's stomach twisted, his nails digging into his palm beneath his desk. He didn't respond. He didn't need to.
The teacher cleared his throat, finally gaining the class's full attention. "Since it's the first day of the school year, I'll be lenient. But remember, this is the most important year of your education. Soon, you'll be applying for high schools, and for many of you, that means hero courses."
Excited murmurs rippled through the room.
The teacher smiled knowingly. "I know many of you plan on applying to U.A., given their prestige. It's an ambitious goal, and a few of you have the talent to get in." His gaze flickered toward Katsuki, who grinned smugly.
"However," the teacher continued, his tone shifting slightly, "there are those who need to set realistic goals."
Izuku's blood ran cold. The laughter came before the words had even fully sunk in. He didn't have to guess who they were laughing at. He could feel it.
"Him? Midoriya, a hero?" a girl to his left giggled, covering her mouth as if the thought alone was too absurd to say out loud.
"He's quirkless," another student scoffed. "He wouldn't even pass the written exam, let alone the practical one."
The teacher didn't stop or correct them. He let them laugh for a few more seconds before finally waving them down. But the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips didn't go unnoticed.
Izuku's chest felt tight because he knew this would happen. It always did. But knowing didn't make it easier. He could feel Katsuki's stare burning into the side of his face, but he refused to meet his gaze. He already knew what would be waiting for him after school.
As the final bell rang, Izuku didn't wait. He shot up from his seat the moment he was allowed to leave, moving as quickly as possible toward the exit, weaving through the students in the hall in an attempt to avoid—
"Deku!"
His breath caught in his throat. A surge of panic spiked through him as he felt the presence behind him getting closer, the unmistakable sound of Katsuki's footsteps chasing after him.
"Get back here!"
Izuku didn't think. He ran. His heart pounded in his ears as he pushed his body forward, his legs screaming in protest as he sprinted toward the school's exit. But he wasn't fast enough.
A flash of movement. A sharp boom. Pain exploded through his ribs as Katsuki's foot connected with his side, sending him sprawling across the pavement in a small alleyway just outside the school's fence, his breath leaving him in a sharp, choked gasp. He barely had time to react before a hand gripped his hair, yanking his face upward.
Katsuki crouched before him, his expression unreadable. "You put down U.A.?" he asked, voice eerily quiet. "You actually think you have a chance?"
Izuku didn't answer as Katsuki's grip tightened. "You're pathetic."
The air between them was thick with something more than mere hostility... it was suffocating, pressing down against Izuku's already bruised and battered body like an invisible force.
"Goddamn bastard," Katsuki muttered, his voice laced with irritation, but his tone carried something darker, something bitter and seething beneath the surface. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles with slow deliberation. "Thinking you could get away from me. There's no one around here to save you, Deku, and I swear—" his smirk twisted into something far more sinister, "—I'll make it painful."
Izuku's breath hitched, his pulse thundering in his ears as he scrambled backward, his hands gripping at the damp pavement beneath him. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight, to do something, but his body refused to cooperate.
"S-Stop… Kacchan, I—I'm sorry!" His voice broke on the words, high and desperate, but he knew it was useless. He knew Katsuki wouldn't stop, wouldn't listen.
Katsuki scoffed, his expression twisting in disgust. "Huh?" he mused, cocking his head as if genuinely confused. "I thought I told you already not to call me that."
Then, without hesitation, he drove his foot into Izuku's stomach.
The impact sent a violent shock through his ribs, a searing pain exploding outward as Izuku let out a strangled gasp, his entire body curling inward in an instinctual attempt to shield himself. His fingers dug into the ground, his vision flickering with static as he struggled to breathe through the pain.
Katsuki knelt beside him, his grip harsh as he tangled his fingers into Izuku's hair, yanking his head upward with a force that made him whimper. Their faces were inches apart now, Katsuki's sharp, unforgiving gaze piercing straight into him, cold and unrelenting.
"You really think you can get into U.A.?" Katsuki's voice was quieter now, but far more dangerous. His tone carried something beyond mockery, something close to offense, as though the very idea of Izuku aspiring to be anything more than a stepping stone beneath his feet was an insult to his existence. "I thought I made it clear that I will be the first and only person from this school to get into U.A." His grip tightened, yanking Izuku's head even higher. "Are you trying to make fun of me?"
Izuku's breath shuddered. He felt cold, a numbing sort of fear creeping into his bones, making his already weak limbs feel even heavier. He wanted to answer, to shake his head, but his voice had abandoned him. His mind was screaming at him to run, to fight back, but his body was useless, trapped in the suffocating weight of Katsuki's hold.
"Answer me!" Katsuki's voice snapped like a whip through the silence, sharp and commanding. When Izuku still didn't respond, Katsuki abruptly released his grip, shoving his head backward.
Izuku gasped as he hit the ground, his skull slamming against the pavement. His vision blurred for a moment, black spots dancing across his eyes.
Katsuki's gaze flickered downward, something catching his attention. His lips curled in intrigue. There, sticking out from the partially unzipped front of Izuku's bag, was a notebook. For a brief moment, something unreadable crossed Katsuki's face. His fingers twitched slightly, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before he reached forward and snatched it.
Izuku's sluggish mind barely processed what was happening before he heard the rustling of pages being flipped through.
"What the hell is this?" Katsuki muttered, his voice sharp with disbelief. His scowl deepened as he read the title aloud. "Hero Analysis for the Future?"
Izuku's stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no—
Katsuki let out a scoff, his expression twisting as he turned the pages, skimming through Izuku's careful notes, his detailed observations of Pro Heroes, his theories on battle strategies, all written with unwavering passion and hope. Izuku felt himself go weightless, his breath freezing in his lungs.
"This..." Katsuki laughed, but it was humorless, bitter. He lifted the notebook higher, shaking it mockingly. "You seriously think a quirkless reject like you can compete with anyone?"
Izuku felt like he was sinking. His body was still, but his mind was spiraling, caught in the horrifying realization that this was his world, this was the reality he had been forced into, where dreams were nothing but fuel for ridicule. His silence only seemed to amuse Katsuki more. He crouched down again, waving the notebook just within Izuku's reach, as if daring him to try and take it. "C'mon, Deku. Say something."
Izuku could only watch, wide-eyed, as Katsuki's smirk widened. That was when Katsuki's expression changed, his eyes flickered with something far more wicked.
"…Actually, this gives me a great idea."
A sick sense of foreboding settled in Izuku's gut as he watched Katsuki bring the notebook between his hands. "For a quirkless piece of shit like you," Katsuki continued, his grin sharp and unrelenting, "this thing is useless."
"No!" Izuku barely had time to react before he saw the telltale flicker of a spark.
A sharp explosion erupted between Katsuki's palms, engulfing the notebook in a burst of flames. The paper curled, blackened, crumbling to ash in seconds as small embers floated to the ground.
Izuku's eyes went wide, a strangled sound catching in his throat. "Give it back!" His voice broke with raw desperation as he lunged forward, but Katsuki easily sidestepped, letting the last burning scraps fall to the ground.
"You wish," Katsuki mocked, stomping his foot down onto the remaining embers, grinding them into nothing beneath his heel.
Something inside Izuku snapped.
A surge of emotion... rage, grief, and tangled together into something unrecognizable, something overwhelming. His breath hitched as he swung wildly, fists clenching, aiming for Katsuki's smirking face—
But he missed.
Again.
And again.
Katsuki merely dodged, unimpressed. "That's the spirit," he taunted, his movements effortless. "But who said you get to hit me?"
Izuku barely registered the words before a hand clamped over his face, as a sharp, controlled explosion, just strong enough to burn but not enough to maim, detonated against his skin. Pain exploded across his face, his body jolting backward before everything went dark.
The last thing Izuku heard was Katsuki's voice, sharp and cruel.
"Just a little goodbye present for you, Deku."
The blast caused Izuku to lose consciousness, his lifeless body lay on the ground.
The first thing Izuku registered was the deafening roar in his ears, a sound that pulsed and grew louder, swallowing everything in its wake. His mind drifted through a haze of emptiness, weightless and unanchored. Where was he? What had happened? He could not remember. His body felt distant, separate from him, a hollow shell barely capable of recognizing the world around it. The thought disturbed him, but he couldn't move, couldn't think... until the darkness began to shift.
A flicker of something beyond the void. A sensation, cold and sharp against his skin. He recognized it now, rain.
A shuddering breath left his lips as his awareness returned in fragments, piecing itself back together. He lay sprawled across the damp alleyway, the cold seeping into his bones, numbing his limbs. No had even bothered to check up on him. His uniform was ruined, soaked through by the downpour that continued to batter against him mercilessly, each drop an icy pinprick against his skin. The scent of wet earth and rusted metal filled his lungs, mingling with something acrid... smoke, burnt paper.
His vision swam as he turned his gaze upward. The sky was painted in shades of deep gray, storm clouds blotting out the stars. The rain continued to fall in thick sheets, disguising the warm trails of liquid that streaked down his cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was the rain or his own tears anymore.
"Why do I even bother?" The thought was barely more than a whisper in his fractured mind, a quiet, bitter admission to the empty night.
His fingers curled weakly against the soaked ground, dirt clinging beneath his nails as he struggled to push himself up. Every movement sent sharp pangs of pain through his ribs, his stomach twisting in protest. The dull ache in his limbs felt like the remnants of something far worse, something he could barely remember. But he knew the truth. He didn't have to remember every detail to know what had happened.
Katsuki.
Izuku clenched his jaw, his breath uneven as his body trembled. Not just from the cold, but from something deeper, something raw that clawed at his chest, suffocating and relentless.
"What did I do to deserve this?"
He had asked himself that question a thousand times before, but tonight, under the suffocating weight of the storm, it felt heavier than ever. His body refused to cooperate as he attempted to stand, his legs buckling beneath him, sending him crashing down into the mud once more.
"Move, damn it!" His breath hitched, his voice breaking as he forced his body to listen. He slammed a fist against his thigh, then again, and again, his teeth gritted in determination or perhaps sheer desperation. "Move!"
He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving as he fought against the helplessness that threatened to consume him. Then, a sudden hollow laugh escaped him.
It was quiet at first, barely more than a breath, but it grew, shaking in his throat. It was absurd, wasn't it? The entire situation was ridiculous. He had spent his whole life chasing after a dream that was never his to begin with. He had told himself over and over that it didn't matter, that he would prove them all wrong, but now, faced with the brutal reality of his own powerlessness, all he could do was laugh.
The sound faded just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an empty ache in his chest.
Slowly, carefully, he forced his body upright once more. His head swam, the world tilting dangerously, but this time he didn't fall. His knees wobbled as he bent down, fingers brushing against the tattered remnants of his belongings. His bag was barely recognizable, the fabric torn, the zipper half-broken, the pages of his notes crumpled and burned beyond saving.
He stared at the wreckage for a long moment before sighing, shoving whatever was left inside the ruined bag and slinging it weakly over his shoulder.
"Mom must be worried sick," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
His limbs protested as he began moving, each step sluggish and uneven. He barely had the energy to focus on where he was going, his mind clouded by the lingering pain in his ribs and the weight of his own thoughts. He glanced at his watch, squinting through the blur of rainwater and exhaustion. 10:37 PM.
"Mom's definitely going to kill me." He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head slightly. How was he supposed to explain any of this?
The streets were eerily quiet, the usual hum of the city drowned out by the storm. Streetlights flickered dimly against the pavement, their glow distorted by the falling rain. The air was thick with the scent of asphalt and damp concrete. As he moved through the empty streets, a strange sensation crawled, setting every nerve in his body on edge. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a cold dread settled in his gut.
He wasn't alone.
A voice broke through the silence.
"Well, what do we have here?"
Izuku froze. His heart slammed against his ribs as he turned toward the voice. His vision was hazy, blurred by exhaustion and rain, but even through the fog, he could make out a shadowed figure just beyond the dim glow of the streetlight.
The figure took a step forward. "People like you shouldn't be wandering around this late at night."
Izuku's breath came out in shallow gasps, his instincts screaming at him to run. But his legs refused to move. The figure tilted its head, its presence suffocating despite the distance between them. "A little slow on the uptake, huh?" A pause. "No matter. You're not worth the trouble, anyway."
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the shadow was gone.
Izuku's pulse pounded in his ears, his breath catching in his throat. His mind struggled to process what had just happened, his body still frozen in place.
Then... another presence. A firm weight settled on his shoulder as Izuku's body jolted violently, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as he spun around, his mind screaming not again, but the grip was gentle.
"What's wrong, young man? You shouldn't be walking around alone this late at night."
Izuku blinked rapidly, his vision finally sharpening. His heart stuttered in his chest. Standing before him, bathed in the glow of the streetlamp, was a figure he had idolized for as long as he could remember. A towering man, clad in red, white, and blue. Golden hair. A radiant smile.
All Might.
Izuku's breath caught. "I—I ... A-A-ALL M-," he stammered, his words barely forming. His mind was still spinning, his body still trembling, but all of it was overshadowed by one undeniable truth. He was standing face-to-face with the greatest hero of all time.
"Are you injured?" All Might's voice was steady, concerned. "Do you need medical assistance?"
Izuku swallowed hard, shaking his head. This couldn't be happening to him. "I—I tripped earlier! Hit my face pretty hard," he lied nervously, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled at his sides. This wasn't the time to say these things to the greatest hero of all time.
All Might studied him for a moment before nodding. "Well, it's great to see you're alright, young man. Just doing some patrol work." He straightened, his smile returning. "I must be off, but be sure to get home quickly."
Izuku's breath was unsteady. He knew that this was his only chance. If he didn't ask now, he would never get another opportunity. "All Might—!" The words escaped him before he could stop them.
All Might turned back, his expression patient.
Izuku's fingers curled against his damp sleeves, his voice small but firm. "Even if I don't have a quirk… can I still be a hero?"
The silence that followed was unbearable. All Might's expression shifted, something unreadable passing through his gaze before he sighed. "Heroes risk their lives for others," he said carefully. "I cannot simply say that you can become a hero without a quirk."
Izuku's breath came out unevenly, his fingers gripping the strap of his ruined bag.
"If you want to help others," All Might continued, his voice lighter now, "then you could become a police officer. It's a respectable occupation. It's not bad to dream… but you have to be realistic."
Then, with one final look, All Might turned and leapt into the sky.
Izuku stood there, motionless, the rain soaking through his clothes, seeping onto his skin.
The words rang in his ears, hollow and final.
All he could do is turn and walk home, his dream crumbling at his feet.
The front door groaned open, its hinges creaking under the weight of the late hour. The Midoriya household, once warm and filled with the soft hum of television static and the occasional clatter of kitchenware, had long since fallen into an eerie stillness. But the moment Izuku stepped inside, the silence was shattered.
"Izuku!" His mother's voice rang out.
Inko Midoriya was already moving, her slippers scuffing against the wooden floor as she hurried down the hallway, her eyes wide, frantic. She barely gave him a second to step inside before her hands found his shoulders, gripping them gently but firmly, searching his face with eyes that had undoubtedly been filled with nothing but stress and fear for hours.
"It's almost midnight!" she scolded, her voice trembling just as much as her fingers. "I've been worried sick! Where have you been?" Her gaze drifted downward, and then her breath hitched. "Izuku—what happened to you?"
She reached for his arms, brushing over the dirt-streaked fabric of his uniform, her fingertips ghosting over the bruises beginning to bloom across his skin. He instinctively flinched at the contact.
Izuku tried to force out a casual laugh, but it came out as something brittle, forced, unnatural. "I, uh... kind of fell down on my way home," he mumbled, shifting his weight awkwardly, refusing to meet her gaze. "An elderly couple saw me and insisted I go to the hospital for a check-up."
His voice was weak, tired, barely hanging together. Inko frowned, unconvinced.
She studied his face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knew her son better than anyone. She knew when he was lying, when he was hiding something, when he was trying to shoulder the weight of something far too heavy for a child to bear alone.
"Then why didn't the hospital call me?" she asked, voice gentle but firm.
Izuku hesitated, staring at the floor like it held all the answers he wished he could find. His fingers curled slightly, his nails digging into his palms.
"They said it wasn't anything serious," he lied, forcing the words out as smoothly as he could manage. "So they let me go after a few check-ups."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Inko still didn't look convinced, but after a moment, she sighed, shaking her head. She didn't push, she never did. That was both her greatest kindness and her deepest regret.
"Alright," she said softly, though the worry in her eyes remained. "Just… be more careful, Izuku. Please." Her voice wavered, something raw bleeding into her words. "I love you, you know that. You can talk to me if something's wrong."
The warmth in her voice nearly undid him. Izuku forced himself to nod, offering her what little smile he could muster. "I know, Mom," he whispered. "I'm okay."
A blatant lie.
Inko exhaled deeply before noticing the sorry state of his school bag. The fabric was soaked through, tattered at the edges, and covered in mud. She sighed, shaking her head fondly despite her exhaustion. "Your poor backpack…" she murmured, lifting it gently from his shoulder. "I'll clean it up for you." Then, with one last glance at him, she reached up and smoothed his hair back, a mother's touch that had comforted him since childhood. "Get some rest, sweetheart. You've had a long day."
"Sure thing, Mom," Izuku replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Goodnight."
With that, he turned, walking stiffly down the hallway, his body aching with each step. The moment he reached his room, he slipped inside and carefully shut the door behind him. The lock clicked into place.
Izuku exhaled, long and slow, before collapsing onto the edge of his bed. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, but his mind was an endless spiral of thoughts, each one sharper, crueler than the last. His eyes wandered across the dimly lit space, landing on the shelves filled with All Might memorabilia. Posters, figures, limited edition magazines, all relics of a dream he had spent his entire life clinging onto.
It felt suffocating now. Like a shrine to something that no longer belonged to him.
The events of the day pressed in on him all at once. The laughter of his classmates, Katsuki's voice ringing in his ears, the sickening crack of his body hitting the ground, the ashes of his notebook scattering in the wind. And then, above all else, the words.
"It's not bad to dream… but you have to be realistic." Reverberated in his mind countless times like echoes.
It was the final nail in the coffin as his breath came out shaky, his throat constricting. His fingers trembled as they curled against his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body shuddering as the weight of it all came crashing down. He had tried so hard. He had wanted it so badly. But in the end, not a single person believed in him.
Not his mother. Not Kacchan.
Not even All Might.
His chest tightened painfully, and before he could stop himself, a choked sob tore its way out of his throat. Tears spilled freely, hot and unrelenting, carving paths down his bruised cheeks. He curled inward, his shoulders shaking as quiet, desperate sobs wracked his body. His hands pressed against his face, as if trying to block out the world, as if trying to hold himself together when everything inside him was falling apart.
The question clawed at him, raw and unanswerable.
Why do I even exist?
The tears kept coming. He wept, and he wept, until the exhaustion finally pulled him under, leaving him alone in the silence of his room.
A/N: Hello everyone and I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of Villain of Tomorrow. Recently I have had an interest in portraying Izuku Midoriya and how he would play out in the BNHA universe if he turned out to be a villain. But also, in a way where it makes sense, has a serious tone, and it's hopefully written well. If you are interested in me continuing this story, please let me know and make a review so I can see what I can improve on. Thanks again.