Chapter Text
Izuku hates his quirk. He could still remember a time when he had wanted nothing more than to join his classmates in quirk counseling, learning how to control and use his unique power. He would watch Kacchan enter the quirk counselor’s office from afar and wish that he could be in the room with him. If nothing else, to learn everything he could about Kacchan’s quirk.
Then, Izuku’s quirk had shown up one day at the worst possible moment. He had been walking down the street with his mom with his hand in hers when they were both struck down with such excruciating agony that Izuku screamed himself hoarse by the time he managed to make it stop. His mom…
His mom had died. And despite what anyone told him that day, Izuku knew it had been his own fault.
Because not only had he finally discovered he had a quirk of his very own(!!!), but he also acquired his mom’s quirk. It took a few days of practice, but he eventually learned just how to float small items toward himself.
(Just like his mom.
His dead mom.)
Then, his dad came to get him.
Izuku hadn’t seen his dad since he was…much younger. There were vague hints at memories with the man. Izuku’s tiny hand pulling experimentally at soft white hair. Large hands stroking his face and soothing him after nightmares. A smile that felt much warmer in Izuku’s memories.
The man that picked him up that day looked like what he thought his dad might look like, but the smile felt cold. It sent a shiver up Izuku’s back that day. To this day, Izuku lived in fear of seeing that smile on his dad’s face. He liked it much better when his dad’s smile was soft and adoring. When his hands were gentle and not forcing Izuku to do things to innocent people that he did not want to do.
This is all to say: Izuku constantly regrets all the times throughout his early years of childhood wishing and hoping for a quirk. He wishes that he never got a quirk at all. The disappointment of never having been blessed with a quirk at all would have been better than this.
Anything would have been better than this.
Where his dad’s (original) quirk leaves people in a state of unawareness for a time, Izuku’s quirk (while mostly similar in nature) causes an excruciating level of pain to both parties. Both Izuku himself and the person he’s forced to use his quirk on (because Izuku has never — and will never — used it purposefully on another person of his own free will) experience the same agony he experienced while holding his mom’s hand the day she died.
(The day he killed her.)
The agony is something unexplainable and so terrible that Izuku can’t even determine what hurts. There’s no discernible source to the pain, it’s just… everywhere. And then it’s gone (not gone, really. More like…the pain is so extreme that his body turns off any reception of pain. He goes numb, both physically and mentally. His skin and muscles and bones hold onto a pins and needles sensation for a few hours, then (usually) he has to go through it all again). And when it’s gone, he finds another quirk stored somewhere within himself.
More accurately, he finds multiple new quirks waiting for him. And then they begin to morph and merge and join. Mutating into a monstrous abomination like some type of sentient being living in his own skin. It’s terrible. Izuku truly hates his quirk. If he had a say, he would never use it.
He doesn’t have a say, though. His dad holds all of the control. And, if Izuku doesn’t do as he’s told… Well…
His dad always claims that he would never hurt his baby boy. (Izuku is nine years old, actually, so definitely not a baby anymore, thank you very much.) At the same time, he always finds some loophole to exploit that brings Izuku varying levels of pain and/or distress.
He can send him to the Doctor.
He can put him in the vault.
He can send Izuku back to unintentionally rile up Tomura-nii in hopes that he will punish Izuku instead.
(Tomura-nii would never kill Izuku — Sensei would never allow it to go that far — but there is a lot of leeway in what he can do to Izuku, or how deeply he can frighten Izuku, that even Kurogiri can’t step in.
Not that anyone steps in every time. Izuku has scars, both physical and emotional, to prove it.)
His dad can also… compel Izuku to hurt himself.
Either way, none of these punishments are technically his dad causing him irreparable harm. Izuku is always hesitant to use the word abusive, but he knows that his mom never treated him like this and that they were happy once.
(Before he killed her, that is.)
The worst of all of these punishments, though: his dad can line up as many people as he can gather (by volunteer or by force, Izuku is too afraid to ask) on short notice and force Izuku to use his quirk on them until he’s convinced that he will repent and become more cooperative.
His dad calls it Training; Izuku calls it Hell On Earth.
Agree to disagree.
Eventually, the pain always becomes too much and Izuku begs for the process to stop. “I can’t do this anymore!” He will scream, sobbing through waterfalls of tears running down his cheeks and snot flooding down from both nostrils. He can taste the snot. It doesn’t taste as bad as his whole body hurts.
His dad says crying is a weakness and forces him to continue. He says that Izuku will thank him for this one day. That, one day, he will manage to use his quirk and feel no pain. It’s only because he is a weak and disobedient child (his dad says “child” like it is something he should strive not to be) that he hasn’t reached that point…but he will. He will. His dad assures Izuku that he will make sure that he does.
Izuku screams without words. His throat feels raw and dry, but it’s nothing compared to the agony of going through this again, and again, and again. Will it go on forever? He hopes not…
“Don’t look away.” His dad orders, his tone cold and unrelenting. Izuku keeps his eyes squeezed shut tight. “Open your eyes Izuku. I am losing my patience.”
Izuku hears the shuffle of feet, a familiar pattern of sound that only ever belongs to his dad. He can’t shut his eyes any more than they already are, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He tells himself that what he can’t see won’t hurt him.
Izuku is a naive little boy.
Izuku’s whole body is tense and stiff, his muscles coiled in anticipation as he waits in fear for what is to come. Then, the long, slender fingers of his dad’s hand wrap around his wrist in a manner that is somehow equally rough and gentle. It’s a feat only his dad can achieve; to emanate an aura of gentle love and adoration and all the while keeping an underlying threat and demand for compliance in play. The grip won’t leave a bruise, and his dad doesn’t drag him forward. He leads him calmly. Five steps, each one bringing Izuku closer to the group of innocent “volunteers” standing in front of him. Izuku knows that none of these (possibly unwilling) participants are aware of their current situation — this is thanks to another quirk in his dad’s arsenal of stolen quirks; it leaves them in a comatose state that seems to only be broken by the agony brought on by Izuku’s quirk being used on them.
He knows, too, that if he tries to jerk away now, he will likely suffer another, separate punishment. So, he allows himself to be led. But he keeps his eyes shut; he doesn’t want to see what happens next if he can help it.
“Open your eyes.” His dad orders again. Izuku refuses, clinging to what little control he holds in these circumstances. His dad sighs above him, sounding resigned, like Izuku is leaving him no other choice. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Then, Izuku feels the palm of his hand connect with the skin of one of the people standing before him. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he can see all of their faces clearly and in full detail. He wonders which one is about to suffer alongside him. The woman with the small beauty mark beside her mouth? The man with the hunched shoulders? The girl — maybe a few years older than Izuku — with the iridescent skin?
(He doesn’t want to watch, he doesn’t want to do this, he wants his mom—
But his mom is dead.)
In an instant, the atmosphere in the room changes, and several things happen at once:
1) Red and black tendrils shoot through Izuku’s wrist as his dad releases his grasp.
2) Izuku’s (original) quirk activates without him willing it to do so. His dad is forcing its activation with a stolen quirk of his own — see also: the red and black tendrils that indicate the use of the quirk: Forced Quirk Activation.
3) A broken scream tears itself from somewhere deep within Izuku.
4) The sound of his scream harmonizes terribly with the shrill scream that erupts from the person standing in front of him.
5) Izuku’s eyes snap open abruptly, spurred by the horrible, shredding, splintering agony that his quirk induces. He’s never learned whether or not the other party suffers as greatly as he does, but… he hopes he has it worse. At least he knows he can withstand it… For a while… Sometimes…
6) Izuku meets the terrified gaze of the person in front of him. He won’t be able to recall who it was for a few days, but…
(It was the girl. Her shimmering, iridescent skin swiftly dulled to a lifeless gray from the moment Izuku’s quirk activated. His own skin began to shimmer briefly with the brilliant shifting colors. Then, it dulled to his natural skin tone and the girl’s quirk — whatever it had been, he would find out until after the pins and needles subsided and he could think — settled into Izuku’s (original) quirk.)
Izuku hates his quirk.