Chapter Text
It started as a thought. Simple as that. The day he found out he was quirkless was hard on Izuku.
Everybody suddenly didn’t want to be near him, his only friend turned into a bully and beat him down for being so weak, and his mom...she was only sorry. No encouraging words, no “It’s okay you can still become a hero!” like he had wanted to hear. No, she tells him she was so sorry.
At the time he didn’t fully understand it. Why did everybody hate him? He was just as different as everybody else! He...just didn’t have a quirk that’s all, but everybody shouldn’t hate him! He still held onto his dream for a while even after Kacchan beat him up during school now, until he didn’t.
Izuku just wasn’t having a good day, Kacchan grew more aggressive than normal for a six year old, and when he told the teachers about it they’d either ignore him, scold him for trying to ruin Kacchans reputation or make the situation even worse. None of his classmates made it any better for him either, blaming him when their stuff was ‘missing’ or ‘lost’, backing up Kacchan with beating him up, or all around just being nasty. The icing on the cake was near the end of the day, just before school late out actually.
“Hey Deku heads up!!” A hand or two shoved him to the floor face first
Deku was his new appointed nickname from day care, when Kacchan declared that his name Izuku could also be read as Deku or ‘Useless’. Kacchan and his friend agreed that the name was perfect for him since he’s quirkless.
By the time he had turned around to face the person who pushed him, a kick was at the ready in course to his stomach. “Still useless down there aren’t ya!” Another kick, this time to the side of his face. “How are you going to be a hero if all you do is take hits?!” A punch this time to his side.
“Get up and fight back if you want to be a hero you stupid Deku!” A series of pops was all Izuku heard before Kacchan grabbed his arm, burning it slightly. Not enough to make a scar, but enough for it to hurt. It was that small moment that Izuku made up his mind.
Later on in life he’ll tell people that he always had wanted to do this, that being a pro hero was never a thought for him. But he’ll never forget the slight relief in his mom's eyes, the near visible happiness in those emerald eyes, when he came home from school and told her as he cried his heart out to tell her-
“I don’t want to be a hero when I grow up anymore!”
Somewhere nearby a butterfly was flapping their wings.