Chapter Text
“Dad? Why are you always so busy?”
Hisashi looks up from his latest project, a temperature modulator for Airjet’s jetpack, and looks down to his 6 year old son. “What do you mean, Izuku?”
“Well…” Izuku begins to pout, and shuffle his feet back and forth nervously, “It’s just that you’re always gone for so long, and when you are home you are always in the workshop. You said we were gonna go out to eat somewhere special tonight…”
Hisashi’s brow furrowed, and he looked up at the clock in the corner of the workshop, before his eyes widened and he shot up out of his chair.
“Dam-I mean darn it. I didn't realise how late it had gotten!” Hisashi turns to Izuku, leaning down and meeting his son’s gaze with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry bud, I'll make it up to you and your mother tomorrow, ok?”
Izuku frowned, “But tomorrow you’re leaving for I-island for work in the morning…”
Hisashi’s expression falls, “Oh…right.”
The two sit in silence, neither knowing how to salvage this conversation, until Izuku speaks once again.
“Dad? Do you hate me?”
“What?!” Hisashi starts, before wrapping his son in a hug, “Why would you ever think that?”
“Well, I still don't have my quirk, and everyone at school says that means I’m just a useless, worthless Deku,” Izuku’s eyes began to water, “I'll keep trying to get my quirk, so please don’t hate me Dad! I’ll keep trying! I-”
Hisashi cut his son off by patting the back of his head. “Izuku, I will never hate you, no matter what you do, quirk or no quirk, I will always love you. So what is this really about?”
Izuku sniffled, and tried to calm down. “Well, I thought maybe the reason you don't spend time with me and mom is because you are mad at me for not having a quirk,” His voice broke, and Hisashi’s heart broke with it, “I just don’t want you or mom to hate me because i’m defective.”
Hisashi broke the hug, and gently grabbed Izuku’s cheeks, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You are not defective, Izuku!” Hisashi spoke with conviction that Izuku found himself enraptured by. “Let me make this clear to you there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, nothing at all!” Hisashi takes a deep breath, before fixing his son with a smile. “I am sorry that I don’t spend time with you and your mother, but my work is incredibly important. If I don’t complete my tasks on time, many heroes would be in danger.”
“Really?” Izuku asked, eyes full of wonder.
“Really,” Hisashi’s expression softened, “I guess you could say I’m a heroes’ hero”, he chuckled.
Izuku raises his arms to the sky in exclamation, “That's amazing! You save heroes! My dad is a hero for heroes!” Izuku proclaimed loudly.
Hisashi laughs fondly at his son’s seemingly limitless energy, before an idea comes to him. “Let me show you something, Izuku.” Hisashi then retakes his seat at the workbench before putting Izuku into his lap.
“See this?” He picks up the modulator he had previously been tinkering with, “This is something I am making for Airjet, you know them, right?” Izuku nods rapidly, “Ok, well this will help them to use their jetpack for longer periods without having to stop, allowing them to save even more people!” Hisashi then picks up some blueprints from the desk, “And these are designs for shock absorbing boots so that they don't get as hurt when they make rough landings.” Izuku listens with awe, absorbing everything his father says, “Each of these pieces makes them better, each piece of equipment a piece in a larger purpose, to make heroes better. That is my job, and sometimes my job means I need to work harder than others to make sure it gets done right. But what I want you to see is that these heroes are not always naturally strong, regardless of their quirk.”
Izuku looks up at him with confusion, “But I thought quirks were what make heroes so cool?”
“Quirks do help, but they aren’t everything,” Hisashi looks at his inventions warmly, “I think that if people use the right equipment, anyone can be a hero, no matter who they are or what quirk they do…” He looks down at his son, “...or don’t have.”
Izuku looks apprehensive, as if he can’t really believe his father’s words, filling Hisashi with anger towards the public school system. When he returns from I-island he will need to make sure to arrange a transfer for his son from that school system. It clearly isn’t good for his health. “Do you really mean that, Dad?”
Hisashi looks at his son with a firm smile, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn't,” He stood up, “now c'mon, it’s past ten and we both have important things to do tomorrow, so lets get some sleep, ok?”
___________________________________________________________________
“Deku! Get back here you quirkless freak!”
Izuku had gotten used to running. It was a daily occurrence for him at Aldera, to run and hide from whatever decided to torment him that day. With his bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes darting around to the visibility mirrors at the corners of the halls, he could see that the group of bullies was right behind him. Bakugo, leading the charge as always, with Yuto and Kenji following close behind. Izuku scanned the route, seeing a split in the hallway up ahead.
He knew to the left was a dead end, he still had the scars from that day. So he hung a right and continued to sprint down the hall, dodging past all the other students leaving their last class of the day. He had gotten better at not being tripped up by crowds in the hall and vindictive classmates.
Experience comes with its perks, he surmises.
Making his way down the stairs to the first floor, he throws the stairwell door shut before continuing to run. It won’t hold him for long, but every second counts at this point. He's not even halfway down the hall before he hears the doors burst open with a massive boom.
Oh great, it seems all that did was piss him off more .
Izuku almost makes it to the door, to freedom from this prison, before he feels a hand grab him by the collar of his uniform jacket, and throw him to the ground. Looking up, he sees a teacher glaring down at him with a sneer.
“How many times do we have to tell you, Deku ?” He spits that horrid nickname like its bile in his mouth, “Running in the halls is not permitted!” By the time the teacher finishes his “lecture” Bakugo and his followers have already caught up, and are slowly approaching Izuku’s prone form, explosions begin to pop in Bakugo’s hands, a sadistic grin painting itself on his face.
Izuku knows running won’t help at this point. So he simply curls his body over his head, and prays to whatever god that is listening that they decide to make it quick today.
As usual, his prayers continue to go unanswered.
___________________________________________________________________
Limping home, Izuku nurses the fresh burns and bruises on his ribcage, covering his injured body with his jacket, his undershirt completely tattered and burned. It didn’t help that Yuto had used his extended fingers to hold Izuku down, and Kenji had even gone as far as to bite him with his quirk enhanced jaw.
But none of that compared to what Bakugo did to him.
He looked up at the sky, the sun already beginning to dip behind the horizon, turning the sky a vibrant orange. In his past, Izuku had enjoyed the sunsets, but now the orange and red hue of the sky just reminded him of the smell of burning sugar, and the popping sounds that accompanied it.
He shook his head, steeling himself. He is still in public, now is not the time for panicking. He can see his home a short way up the road, he is almost safe.
The home itself is a modest yet modern one family house, The home is cosy, with a sloping roof and an attached garage, though any warmth the home may have had is lost by the unlit interior and unmowed lawn. Lichen and mildew speckle the exterior. He passes by the plaque on the mailbox, still in slight disrepair from the last time it had been damaged.
M I D O R I Y A
Entering the dark home and locking the door behind him, Izuku stops at the entryway and tries to collect his emotions. Crying about it would not do anything anymore. Besides, there is a far more constructive outlet for his emotions. He stands, and walks immediately to the garage. Opening the door he flips the lightswitch and is met with familiar buzzing and whirring of machinery warming up. He takes a deep breath and lets his mind calm, a fragile smile working its way onto his face. He has always felt more at peace when surrounded by the smell of solder and oil, the humming of various gadgets and equipment. The workshop is a mess, completely overrun by scrap metal and energy drink containers. Though he didn't mind.
After all, he was the only one who used it anymore, so the mess was only really his problem to deal with.
Stepping over to the workbench, he takes a small lapel microphone from its port, and turns on the dictation software already loaded onto the computer.
“This is Izuku Midoriya, continuing dictation 2559, Experiment 572 of the ArcBlue project should be completed soon enough. Despite not being in ideal physical condition, I will continue with testing,” Izuku grabs a thick apron and welding gloves from a coat rack in the corner, “I have a good feeling about this one…something tells me this is the one, this is going to work.”
From the corner of the room, the whirring of a machine stills, and a loud bell chimes out.
“Experiment 572 is complete, I am now going to attempt Nexus apparatus integration.”
Moving over to the processor, he opens the lid, praying that this time, it would finally work. Staring inside, he is met with a soft blue glow, and his fragile smile grows.
9 years of teaching himself to use this equipment, 5 years of trial and error, and finally it is done. He knew his father was right, that the research was sound. It just took a long while to complete the experimental phase and move on to testing.
“Experiment 572 has completed the manufacturing process.” Izuku speaks to the dictation, “It seems to be unreactive to oxygen exposure, good start.”
He carefully lifts the small glowing object from the processor with tongs and gingerly carries it over to the workbench.
“572 seems to be stabilising, possible self circulating power supply achieved, though quantitative results remain to be seen.”
As he approaches the workbench, he places the power supply into a small rack, supported off the surface. He looks down at the Mechanism on the table, and his heartbeat begins to accelerate.
The mechanism is small, about the size of a softball. It is flat and round, with straps laying flat against the bench. Along the straps, metal sutures run the length, with wires running underneath. At the end of one of the straps is a leather glove with some brass lenses fitted into the palm and fingers.
Crude? Yes. Basic? Definitely. But any progress is welcome.
“Nexus apparatus was completed last night, a simple circuit fitted to a discharge lens was attached to the nexus for power cycling testing,” He takes a deep shuddering breath, “Moment of truth.”
Fitting the small glowing square into the apparatus, the walls immediately closed around it, the apparatus beginning to emit a hum that slowly started to increase in volume, glowing brighter and brighter with each passing moment. Izuku quickly backs away behind a rudimentary blast-shield, anticipating a potential malfunction, but with time, the glow softened, and the sound faded. Peeking out from behind the shield, he assessed the situation before approaching, his nervous expression replacing itself with barely restrained joy.
The sutures emitted a soft blue glow, the apparatus itself seeming to fully stabilise. Izuku observed the glove, seeing no signs of scorching or overconsumption.
“T-the apparatus appears to have…have accepted the power supply,” Izuku’s voice begins to fail him, overwhelmed with emotion as he is, “Before…before I jump to any conclusions, I need to test power cycling.”
Izuku slowly began to fit the straps onto his body, the nexus fitting itself on his shoulder similar to a small pauldron. Putting on the glove, he reached for the switch on its exterior with his other hand, and lifted the glove up and away from his face.
“Unless I have miscalculated, flipping this switch should create a bright light,” Izuku then pauses, “And hopefully won't destroy the house.”
With a deep breath, he turns the palm of the glove away from his body and flips the switch, and is immediately blasted backwards, into a pile of machinery. He begins to panic as a solid beam begins to emit from the palm of the glove, scorching the walls of the garage and even beginning to cut a hole through the door. Reaching for the switch he flips it and shuts off the lens, powering it down with a soft tapering hum.
Calming his breathing, after a few minutes Izuku checks the microphone to make sure its still functional, “E-experiment 572 seems to have much higher power output than originally anticipated,” He looks around at the freshly burned walls and the new hole in the garage door, “The light emitting output overclocked and released a consistent beam of energy out of the palm, damaging the walls far more than anticipated,” He pauses, “Though…while not necessarily a success, experiment 572 is far from a failure. If anything, it works far too well.”
Izuku walks to the computer, and observes the data from the blast.
“572 appears to be fully cycling power, even with the consistent blast of 4.6 seconds, the power supply has fully cycled to maximum power storage. It…it actually works,” He lets a short chuckle of awe escape his mouth, a tear running down his face, “Y-you were right dad…It is real, ArcBlue is feasible, and this is proof!” He raises his arms to the air and begins to celebrate, elation taking over his being, before a dark feeling of melancholy settles into his stomach.
He turns back to the dictation, “...I…I just wish you could be here to see it, I’m sure you would have been over the moon…” He begins to shake, tears leaking down his face, “I wish either of you were here…I…I don't know if I can keep doing this…not without you,” He begins fully sobbing, finally losing control of his emotions. “I hate it. Every single day it’s…it’s never-ending. Bakugo and his mob are only getting worse, more violent with age. And the teachers? The police? They just don't care! Not a single person cares!” He is screaming now, continuing to lose himself in his anger, “Why?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why did I have to be born wrong?!” Izuku collapses to the ground, sobbing openly, wailing to the void, praying for an answer.
Again, he is met with silence.
After he calms himself, he lifts his head. “But maybe…maybe with this, they will finally acknowledge me,” he sits up, “maybe finally they will see that I deserve a place in this world.”
He looks down at the glove, the palm slowly pulsing a soft blue light, and he smiles again, this time watery and full of unrestrained emotion.
“Because this small invention? This technology? It could change the world.”
___________________________________________________________________
“-But, you all want to be heroes, right?!”
Immediately the class burst out into a show of force, letting their quirks loose with reckless abandon. Izuku simply shrunk into himself, not wanting to get involved. He was in a good mood after his success last night, and didn’t feel like ruining it by incurring Bakugo or the teacher’s wrath.
“Don’t lump me in with the rest of these extras, teach!” Bakugo proclaimed, letting his ego flare up. Honestly, could he not just shut up for once? “I’m the real deal, get it? These guys would be lucky to end up as sidekicks in some dead end, D-list agency.” The rest of the class turned to Bakugo, shouting at him, but Bakugo simply shrugged them all off, kicking a foot onto his desk, and making it clear he could take them all.
Was being a hero so great, anyways?
Izuku let himself internalise, pondering the same question he had been so stuck on for years. Most people looked at heroes as celebrities, fame and fortune pouring in like rain, but was that really all there was to it? Heroes are public servants, they are supposed to help people. He glanced over to Katsuki, continuing his ego fueled rant.
And sometimes, the heroes don’t win.
His teacher looked down at his desk, before frowning, as if he had swallowed a sour grape, “Oh, that's right, you are applying to U.A. too, aren’t you, Midoriya?”
God dammit, why couldn’t anything go his way.
He flinched back on instinct at the explosion released onto the lip of his desk, and looked up at Bakugo glaring down at him with rage. He felt himself begin to shake, his heart rate climbing higher and higher.
“ Dammit get a hold of yourself, Izuku!, ” he thought to himself, lassoing his emotions and forcing himself to calm down, “ just try to de-escalate, play into his ego.”
“I’m not applying to the hero course, Bakugo,” Izuku said calmly and slowly, “I am applying to the support course, that has always been my intention.”
Bakugo sneered, and grabbed Izuku’s collar, wrenching him up to meet his eyes. “What, you think you are good enough to work as a support tech? Is that it?!” Bakugo was spiralling, a self feeding loop of anger that only makes him more angry as this goes on. This will not end well, “Even among those backwater rejects, you still have no place! I thought I told you not to apply to U.A., you quirkless freak!”
“It is a simple application, Bakugo, that doesn’t mean they will accept me,” When a larger animal asserts its dominance, sometimes it is better for the smaller one to simply roll over and submit, even if it’s all an act. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?” He squints his eyes and tries to meet the teacher’s gaze, but the teacher is apathetically looking down at his papers, ignoring the whole situation.
Unsurprising, but still disappointing.
“You see, Deku,” He spits, throwing Izuku to the ground. The impact aggravates his bruises from the previous day, but he does his best not to cry out. He knows what happens if he shows pain, “There are stories of the best heroes, the ones who rose from nothing, leaving all of the rejects and extras behind. That is my perfect story! My heroic backstory, and it means that you ,” he kicks Izuku in the side, causing him to curl around himself, “and every other reject here needs to know their place and step aside as I rise to the top! I am going to be the number one hero, with the perfect quirk, the perfect story, and the perfect rise to the top, and nobody is getting in the way of that, you get me?!”
Izuku nodded, though the action was hard with his body covering his head, but he hoped that Bakugo still understood, and just left him alone.
“Then again, what would I expect from a defect like you?” He could almost hear the sadistic glee bubbling in Bakugo’s chest, “After all, your own mom didn’t even want to stand by you!”
Izuku’s eyes snapped open. Keep calm…don’t let him get to you…just ignore it like you always do.
“She was so embarrassed by her freak son that she went and abandoned your useless ass just so she wouldn’t have to look at you!” Bakugo began to laugh, his cronies joining in shortly after, everyone else simply ignoring the conflict in the middle of the room.
Izuku felt blood rush into his ears, but he stayed down. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before..nothing that Bakugo hadn’t said or done before. Just take it and eventually he will stop.
“Though, I guess she’s still better than your loser Dad.”
Izuku’s breath caught in his lungs…no…surely Bakugo wouldn’t take it there, right?
“I mean, he wanted out of your life so fucking bad, that he went and offed himself in order to do it! Couldn’t even be brave enough to just leave like your mom, had to take the coward’s way out instead!”
Izuku felt his vision turn red and his heartbeat quicken further, this time not out of fear, but out of pure rage. How dare he bring up his father! How dare he talk about things he doesn't understand!
Izuku had begun to uncurl, an action Bakugo would have noted if he hadn’t been distracted, looking between his cronies for them to laugh and clap along, like mindless seals, to fuel his pathetic overinflated ego. For the first time in a long time, Izuku acted without thinking, rushing up from his position, and delivering a punch to Bakugo’s cheek.
It wasn’t particularly strong, nor did it have much force behind it, but the shock was enough to knock Bakugo off his feet.
Silence fell over the classroom, everyone simply staring in shock. Izuku’s anger began to fade, replacing itself with the cold feeling of dread. He had to leave. He had to leave now.
The teacher had begun to reprimand Izuku, but Izuku had already started running out the door. Bakugo got up, hands popping violently, before he started sprinting after him. Izuku ran as fast as he could, fear dictating every action he took. He slams past some students exiting the classroom and leaps down the stairs. The sounds of shouting and explosions followed closely behind. Seeing the entrance of the school, he kept running, this time noticing the teacher waiting at the edge of the hall once again, just out of sight. He would not let him trip him up again. This time ducking under his grasp, and continuing to sprint down the sidewalk and out to the city.
He knew Bakugo was close behind him, and his only safe bet is to get home before Bakugo catches up to him. The familiar streets passed him in a blue, but all he could focus on was the shouting coming from the three behind him.
Please…Please just let him be safe…just this once.
_________________________________________________________________________
Hando Bushida, hero name Roundhouse, was a new hero to the scene, graduating Ketsubutsu about 4 months ago. He’s happy that he managed to get a job at Fourth Kind’s agency, even if his new boss is a bit…eccentric. Honestly, he was shocked by how quickly he got a position. His quirk, Spring Loaded Legs, is fairly weak, allowing him to contract his leg muscles like a spring and shoot them out for added boosts of damage. Not exactly top 10 material, but he is proud of the progress he has made with it since his first year of hero school.
Looking up at the midday sun, he smiles and lets himself relax a bit. No crimes so far…hopefully it stays that way. It’s always nice to have a day without anyone getting hurt, as rare as they are.
Of course things couldn’t stay calm forever.
Suddenly, a small body slammed into him rounding a corner, and he looked down to see a green haired kid in a panic, eyes darting everywhere as if looking for a way to escape.
Roundhouse puts on a smile, “Woah there, kid,” He sees the kid begin to dart off, but grabs his sleeve, “Easy now, it’s dangerous to run down public walkways like that, you ok?”
The kid seems to comprehend him for the first time, desperately looking behind him. When he sees nothing, he looks back to Roundhouse, and begins to desperately ramble to him. “Please, you have to help me!” He starts, still looking over his shoulder, “I think they are trying to kill me.”
Roundhouse went still, “Kill you? Who?” Just as he says that, he sees three kids in the same school uniform as the green haired kid round the corner, running their way. Ah, so that’s what it is.
“Listen kid, heroes need to be available to solve real situations, those kids aren't going to kill you, are they your friends?”
The green haired boy stills, looking at Roundhouse with disbelief, and with barely restrained betrayal. Shit…maybe this is more serious than he thought. Before the boy could continue, though, he locked eyes with his schoolmates and began to sprint off again, the trio following closely behind.
In his time at hero school, he had interned with a few agencies. And he had gotten good at recognizing fear. That green haired boy? He was terrified. Something was clearly very wrong. Hopefully somebody could help the boy.
He began to walk along his patrol again, though stopped when his foot kicked something small. He leaned down to see a small rectangular school ID. The visage of the same green haired boy emblazoned on its front.
Izuku Midoriya
So that’s his name, huh? He checks the back for the address so he can return the ID but he feels his blood go cold at the text above it.
Quirk: Quirkless
Roundhouse began sprinting in the direction of the address listed on the ID. His gut told him this was not going to end well. And he had learned to trust his gut a long time ago.
_________________________________________________________________________
Izuku slammed his front door shut, locking and bolting the mechanism and sprinting into the garage. Maybe now they would leave him alone? His hopes once again were dashed when Bakugo began slamming his fists into the door, punching and kicking it with abandon. He could hear Yuto and Kenji casually talking to one another as Bakugo raged. It was clear they didn't intend to leave.
Izuku looked through the hole in the garage, seeing them begin to stalk towards the window. He slowly moved over to the Nexus apparatus sitting on the workbench, the soft blue glow of the power supply still humming strong, but unfortunately, as he tried to slink back, he tripped over some scrap metal, falling into the lathe and causing a loud bang. He hears Bakugo run over to the garage door and begin banging on it, trying to reach under the door and get in.
Izuku had to think fast. He looked back at the workbench, the glove, and hastily picked himself up, quickly strapping the apparatus to his body. He slipped the glove on just as Yuto reached through the hole in the garage with his extended fingers and undid the latch, allowing Bakugo to lift the garage door, and stalk towards him, Yuto and Kenji stalking close behind.
“You really think you would get away with that, Deku?” Bakugo spoke, hands popping, “You know damn well that nobody, especially you, gets to fight back against the real heroes!” Izuku backs away, pointing his glove at Bakugo. “Aw what, is that a little flashlight you made? Trying to be like your pathetic daddy? Is that it?”
Izuku’s blood boiled, but he needed Bakugo to get a bit closer, so he held himself, right hand pointed palm out towards Bakugo, left hand on the switch. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bakugo,” a lie, but a necessary one, “I just want you to leave me alone! If I am truly so pathetic, why do you waste your time with me?!”
Bakugo seems to pause for a minute, before letting his sadistic sneer grow again. “Because despite being the most pathetic of all the extras, despite being such a fucking defect, you still havent learned your place. You insist on trying to fuck up my perfect story, and I cannot let that stand,” He approaches again, just a few steps out of Izuku’s range, “So be a good little freak, and take your punishment!”
Bakugo lunged at Izuku, explosions blooming from his palm.
Izuku flipped the switch.
A beam emitted from the glove, just like last time, and struck Bakugo directly in the stomach, launching him back about 10 feet. Izuku quickly flipped the switch off, stumbling back, before he smelled something burning. He looked down and saw the welding glove on fire, and quickly threw it off and away from him.
Bakugo stood up, rage clear as day on his face, before looking down to the now smouldering scrap. He looked down at his uniform, seeing a large scorchmark burning through the jacket and searing his undershirt. Luckily the undershirt was designed to take his own explosions, so it absorbed the heat of the blast well. His eyes met Deku, who was trembling in fear, and a sadistic smile wormed it’s way onto his face.
“Hold him down.”
Kenji and Yuto looked apprehensive, but with a quick glare from Bakugo they acquiesced, grabbing Izuku and pinning him to the ground by his arms and legs. Bakugo stalked forward, explosions popping in his hand.
“It’s about time you learned your place, Deku,” Bakugo sneered, leaning down to a struggling Izuku, placing one hand on his shoulder joint, “You don’t belong in this world, and I am going to prove it, once and for all!”
The sound of the explosion was massive, far more than Izuku had heard before.
But it was nothing compared to the sickening crack of his arm joint completely shattering.
He cried out in pain, wailing openly and loudly, eyes shot open, pupils pinpoints. Kenji and Yuto backed away, Yuto even trying to stop Bakugo, “Hey, Bakugo, maybe this is too fa-”
“Shut Up!” Bakugo yelled, before releasing another explosion in the same exact spot, Izuku cried out again, he could feel his tendons melting under the heat, his nerves shooting up in white hot pain, pain, pain .
“You did this to yourself, Deku! You should have just lay down and died off, like I told you for years!” Bakugo stands, kicking Izuku in the stomach, but Izuku doesn't respond, his mind overloaded by the pain of his shoulder, his mangled arm hanging limply to his side.
Izuku’s world was nothing but agony. This was bad. This was worse than anything he had ever felt. The pain he was experiencing right now, it felt like his entire arm was trying to pull itself off. Like a white hot blade is ripping through his joint. Yuto and Kenji move around, trying to hold Bakugo back. “Bakugo, that's enough! I think he learned his lesson!”
Bakugo finally lets his rage subside, taking in Izuku’s form, and for a brief moment seems to panic, before he lets his ego take over again. “That defect has nobody to blame for this but himself!” He turns around, gesturing for Yuto and Kenji to follow. “I gotta get home before it gets dark, can't miss my 9 hours of sleep and ruin my perfect attendance.”
Yuto and Kenji look at one another, then look back at Izuku. They seem to resign themselves and follow Bakugo. Maybe he was right, maybe this was what Deku deserved. Everybody knows you don’t hit Bakugo unless you want to get hit back, right?
Izuku is all alone, dipping in and out of consciousness. His lip is oozing blood, his ribs are cracked and breathing is difficult. His eyes are starting to fade, so he almost doesn't see the figure running into the open garage before his vision finally fades.