Shackles of the Past

Friendship

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Shinsou Hitoshi was a scared, introverted child.

His father was a villain. That wasn't bad enough. He had inherited his father's dark eye shadows, and his insomnia.

He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to help other people.

His classmates said he looked like a villain, and because of that, he should be one.

Then he turned four, and his quirk came.

A brainwashing quirk. Just like his father's.

His mother was nice to up, right up until he manifested his quirk. A combination of his father's brainwashing quirk, where he has to make physical contact to brainwash a person, and his mother's quirk, a minor echolocation quirk. She never did anything against him, but the small ounce of love she once showed him had disappeared into an emotionless husk. She had turned in on herself, often ignoring her son in favour for wallowing in her room. She pushed a bowl of food in front of his face, before locking the door and leaving the poor child to eat on his own, in silence, haunted by the muffled tears.

Instead of just bullying him, his classmates now steered clear of him, leaving a metre wide radius around the poor purple haired toddler like he had some kind of contagious disease.

They blamed everything on him. A missing pencil, a broken lunch box, two children getting into a fight, a torn piece of paper. They said it was him. Or, if they were caught in the act, claim that Shinsou was brainwashing them to do it. The caretakers couldn't do anything. They had no proof that Shinsou do it, unless you counted twenty toddlers speaking against him as proof. And as the damage wasn't too great, they dropped it, but even the adults kept a wide berth from Shinsou, avoiding him as much as possible.

Shinsou just wanted to be a hero.

Was that too much to ask for?

He didn't want to be defined by who his dad was. He didn't even meet him before. He didn't ask for his quirk to be so similar to the villain's.

Why couldn't anyone treat him like he was himself?

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"Alright, the neighbouring preschool had been attacked by villains, so for the next week or so, the children will be attending other schools around the area. We will also be taking in some of the children. Please welcome them!"

A group of adults ushered the new children into the room, and most of the students looked on in interest at the new kids.

All except one. Midoriya Izuku. He sat in a corner, quietly observing everyone.

The children were given time to interact with each other, and most of the toddlers that Midoriya knew just opted to forget about him, interested in the new students and their quirks instead.

Midoriya felt some kind of dark, haunting aura from somewhere. He turned, seeing a fluffy, purple haired boy, sitting in the opposite corner with his legs tucked into his chest, his arms resting on his knees as he placed his chin on his forearms, solemnly looking at everyone.

It felt familiar, and he didn't know why.

Then he realised that it was exactly how he felt.

The other boy was reclusive, he had been shunned, and ignored by everyone. They treated him like he didn't belong, and after so long of hearing it, he himself had begun to believe it.

That feeling was suffocating, it was like there were shackles clasped around their neck and wrists and ankles, not letting you go anywhere, leaving you to suffer in silence as everyone went about their day, not even glancing in his direction.