Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya had always been extremely strange. In the way that his eyes shown with a strange world weariness at the bright age of 3. With his surprising penchant for learning and remembering just about anything. He was told by many adults that he had a bright future. Something that would result in a small smile. One akin to something you might give to a small child, who talks about an unrealistic fairytale.
Often he was described as oddly detached to the children he would interact with. Often stepping away after only a minute or so. Opting to walk aimlessly around the park, observing. One of the only things that did keep his attention. Taking in the people and their conversation, soaking up every drop of knowledge to later write into his notebook. Which his mother had gifted to him in hopes that he would draw pictures. Things she could hang on the fridge. Not realizing that he would learn to write, without help, to be able to put down his thoughts. Those of which he vehemently refused to share with her. Much to her own chagrin.
She was, at times, frustrated at how adult Izuku seemed. Bathing and entertaining himself. Never bothering her, if anything she was often bothering him. If the weary sigh she heard outside of her room before her goodnight kiss was anything to go by. Idly she wondered if there was something wrong with her little boy, another idea she tossed at the thought of her nephew.
Little Katski, who was a spitting image of his mother, was the closest friend Izuku had. She smiled faintly at the memory from earlier today of Katski pulling Izuku every which way. Her son followed along with a vaguely pleased look on his face. Fine to play, even if his attention did wander to a couple passing by or a leaf that was particularly different. Katski never noticed and was never bothered by it.
These were the mundane thoughts she let work through her mind as she cooked dinner. Knowing that Izuku, if asked, would say that it was delicious. Something that was hard for her to hear knowing that he struggled to keep it down more often than not. Inko, herself, had always thought she was skilled at cooking but her little Izuku had always struggled with meals. Not that he ever complained to her or shared his struggles with anyone else. Attempting to outright lie when she made the trip to the doctors once her levels of concern had grown dangerously high.
But as odd as Izuku was, she really did love him dearly.
When Katski turned four, things began to change. Something that was hard for Izuku as one of his favorite things was routine. The changes surrounded Kacchan, who after developing a quirk, had a constant entourage. Which might have been fine if they played nicely and were quiet. They were neither of those things as they spoke over him at every turn, in an attempt to grab the attention from Kacchan. Circling around him like hungry vultures, attempting to take just a little light for themselves. Not that Izuku could ever worry about Kacchan in that realm as he was selfish and had never wanted to share attention or knowledge. Which was apparent whenever someone asked if they could be the hero and his reaction had been to shove them to the ground and announce that this particular kid was a disease. Something that Izuku could only attempt to walk away from as he wanted no part in whatever it was that Kacchan was beginning to start.
This began an odd time for them. A separation that was somewhat gradual as Izuku was pushed from the group and was left more and more in the dark. Away from his only friend. Somewhat surprised that one that had known him the longest felt not a singular need to stand up for him. But in a more logical realm felt not surprised at all as he had known Kacchan his whole life. So this was a trend that he had recognized when they were even younger than now.
The only thing he could be upset about was the fact that his mother grew more and more worried as the group worked to isolate him. He felt frustrated at her constant hovering. Asking if he had made a new friend or if he wanted to hang out with Kacchan this weekend or the next. Her weariness only spiked when he turned four and there was no sight of a quirk.
She had been oddly frantic about his lack so far. So much so that it was beginning to make him uneasy. His mother went as far as to book multiple doctors appointments in hopes of figuring out his quirk. Not that they left with any sort of answer, all of the doctors having similar responses. They were all sure that he had a quirk. He didn’t have tonsils, an appendix, or a second toe joint. He was as, very rarely would say, completely normal.
After every visit his mother became more insistent that it was due to his lack of socialization. Forcing him to the center of the group that was growing to outwardly dislike him. Even though they had no real reason to up until recently. When he didn’t manifest his quirk.
The months that followed were somewhat harsh in the way that his mother had begun to turn a blind eye to the bullying her son was experiencing. In the hopes that he would manifest his quirk to stand up for himself or in a way that the children would respect and re allow him into the group. This was not something he was interested in, especially with his first year of primarily school coming up.
This was something he was looking forward to. No matter how bored he might be, he enjoyed knowing that he was succeeding in something. That his teachers would smile kindly and tell his mother what a polite boy he was.
Izuku had been correct in his assumptions when the school year began but slowly recognised the issue. That being that slowly, but surely, every kid in his class was developing a quirk. All growing more and more eerie of his lack of one. Spreading rumors about him. He had heard a girl whisper that he had a disease that might make you lose your quirk, another about becoming ugly from breathing the same air as him. All things that did not bother him. It was all slightly annoying, an irritation that only grew when the adults in his life stopped stepping in. Their silence encouraging the little tyrants.
By the time the children were in fifth grade they had graduated from their taunts and teasing nad moved into something much more violent. If the burn pulsating on his cheek was anything to go by. Gone was his careful apathy. The bully spurring something oddly heroic in him. It was as if he felt the need to jump in front of every attack. And he did. Leaving him the only child to be picked on.
There were two types of teachers he suffered. The cruel kind and the coddling kind. He preferred the cruel to the suffocation of the coddling. Refusing to let him out of a corner, taking to him in a baby face and forcing him to write in crayon, even though he was the most advanced in his class. A cruel teacher was the opposite, they would assign him extra homework only to mark him down or accuse him of cheating. Izuku often wondered if he was the only student they had treated like this. OR if there were many more, all who were silent through the torment. The cruel teachers smiled and taunted him when he was being pushed around. Leaving him with the unhelpful words, “Izuku if you keep antagonizing them of course they’re going to react,” or ,”Izuku-kun how dare you lie about those sweet children, you need to go to the principal's office!”
All saying that brought a red hot screen to the front of his vision not that he would ever react. His only defense being to smile and bow, the frustration could never be evident on his face should he want to survive school.
Midoriya Inko was getting tired. She had hoped that turning a blind eye to the bullying would force her Izuku-kun to develop a quirk, it had not. She was tired and she missed her husband, who had all but asked for a divorce at this point. Going as far to move to work in America, even if he did send fat checks to try and soothe her broken heart. There had been multiple points where Hisashi had tried to convince her that he could find a suitable place for her little boy away from them. But she had refused and now she felt regret.
Izuku was nine now, he was far past the age of hope. Inko had always struggled with how independent he was but now she wondered if this was a plus. She thought of how he really might be okay if she left him. This was not a fully formed idea and quickly left her mind at the thought that the doctor was still sure he would develop a quirk.
He was doing his homework and the guilt from her thoughts was seeping into her facial expressions. Then something sinister came to her. If those small children could not force a manifestation then why couldn’t she. It wouldn’t be abuse, it would be the same as administering a shot to an unruly child.It left a soft smile on her lips. She was sure if she succeeded then they could all be a happy family again. Her delicate hands curled into a fist as she thought of how to go about it. The first that came to mind was the shoes haphazardly thrown on the ground. Leaving small traces of mud on her freshly cleaned floor.
Inko put down the spoon, turned off the stove, and turned to Izuku.
This is going to be a long night she thought.