Alluding To Death

Is This The End?

I was 5 years old by the time I grew to expect a barrage of attacks from who I thought were my friends. No matter what I did, I never could get them to stop. If they were a horde of rampaging animals, then I was the grass being trampled on. So I would lay on the playground floor, head covered, as they relentlessly punished me. If they weren't punishing me for being quirkless, then they were punishing me for being weak. Either way, they never once let up. A boy I had in my class had fallen victim to their arsenal of attacks one day. That is when I stood up to Kacchan and his gang for the first time. I could take being the subject of their abuse, but once they started bullying other kids, then things changed. Sometimes I wonder if I allowed them to treat me that way because I was trying to punish myself for being born. I guess I was also at fault for creating tormentors.

When I fought back against the boys, I was completely and utterly defeated. I was a Deku, they said - useless, worthless. The weakness I felt that day forth was a feeling I wish to never experience again. They were right though; I was a deku. And so I allowed them to continue with their harassment. By the time school ended each day, I had at least 2 new bruises or burn marks. They targeted my back the most. This left me having to sleep only on my stomach so the burns could heal faster. If Father had ever noticed, then he never outwardly acknowledged it.

That day, the harassment was far worse than it had ever been. A hand slammed down on my already burnt black desk. The hand moved to my shirt, grabbed me roughly, and threw me into the corner of the classroom. They had me pinned, trapped. I had no choice but to submit and accept the bombardment of insults and punches. All I wanted to do was cry and go home. There was nothing I could do to stop them; I was weak, useless. I gripped my Hero Analysis notebook tighter, hoping this would be over soon. Kacchan always hated that I had my sights set on being a hero, so when he spotted my notebook in my arms, he snatched it quickly and scoffed.

"How delusional are you exactly?? Still trying to play fucking hero?" Kacchan scoffed once again, disgust lining his voice, "Don't make me laugh, Deku, you're pathetic. A useless, quirkless little nobody," he snarled and aimed an explosion at my notebook. My notebook, the only hope for my future, had been destroyed right in front of me.

My fists balled at my side as I looked up at Kacchan angrily. "You can't just do this to me, Kacchan!" I half yelled. Whatever anger and resentment I was feeling in that moment immediately turned to fear. Kacchan gave me a dangerous look.

He punched the wall next to my head, being sure to set off an explosion as he did so. He spat insult after insult at me. Then, he really hurt me. If he had any regrets about saying such cruel things, he never showed it.

"Who do you think you're talking to, nerd? No one would ever want to be around you. People see you and think only how weak and pathetic you look. Hell, your dad won't even look at you and Aunty hated the thought of having you so much that she died!" he yelled at me ferociously. The second he did, however, I could have sworn I saw a regretful look appear before immediately being turned to anger again.

"She died because of you, so why don't you follow in her footsteps, Deku. In fact, go take a swan dive off the building and pray that you'll have a quirk in your next life," he said with all the malice he could master.

I fell to my knees, slowly picking up the pieces of my notebook. I felt empty inside. All of my self-hatred was exposed as true in that moment. He wasn't wrong; I knew that. I had no quirk, so I was useless. Izuku Midoriya was nothing but a weak coward. There was nothing I did that was ever right enough. Even my being born was the worst-case scenario. That's what I had believed, and Kacchan validated that. With a kick to the face, Kacchan and his lackeys stomped off, leaving me to weep in self-pity.