Chapter Text
Izuku sleeps for maybe two hours before something explodes in the workshop, and Hatsume turns on the hardest phonk of her life…
Welcome to UA! Support course, second year, at your service!
He cries over his technical mechanics textbook every single minute, and then the whole class goes outside near campus and arranges all their notes and printouts into a literal summoning circle. Izuku even colored the candles black with a marker just to fully commit to the longest dark era of his life. Toranpu set the papers and wicks on fire while reciting something in Latin from an article they found in the academy library. The performance attracted a crowd of dorm students, forming a silent semicircle while waiting to see what would happen next. Izuku pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and took the last one out — he’d been saving it since the middle of third year in middle school for an emergency. He lit it from a burning sheet of paper and inhaled the bitter smoke.
"This is the beginning of the end, guys," someone from the crowd said. Sounded like a first-year. They had just moved into the dorms yesterday. They’d get used to it.
"It’s strength of materials, no offense. I ate the textbook trying to understand how this bastard works."
Ah. That explained whatever the hell was happening here. The support course was slowly losing its collective mind.
Five more people, some not even from support, walked over to Midoriya to light their cigarettes from the genuinely hellish flames and pat him on the shoulder in solidarity. The crowd of teenagers started applauding and crying at the same time. Izuku was sobbing so hard while smiling. They had passed Power Loader’s exam. They hadn’t slept in three weeks, drank coffee like lunatics, and basically turned the men’s bathroom in dorm 2-H into a full-time smoking lounge. They wanted to die so badly.
The hero course students were too shocked and traumatized to stop the fire that started because of the wind. They wanted to die too.
Izuku lives for several things: cyberbullying people in Minecraft, his love for Lana, and developing a doomsday machine. His spirit animal is definitely the bags under Shinso’s eyes. Oh, and Tomura. That guy was absolutely his mental twin. Watching him suck at Minecraft PvP was genuinely worth living for.
"Why don’t you kill yourself? Trust me, nobody would care."
Not exactly the kindest words from a teenager attending a hero academy, but come on. Shigaraki and Dabi killed his dog. He’d get in trouble again if somebody overheard him through the walls. They’re in the walls… He lived in an asylum. One time, an explosion from Kobeni’s room literally blew out his wall. Thankfully it wasn’t load-bearing, but Izuku was paranoid.
"Bastard, I know where you live."
"You don’t even know my real name, Dusty. I’ll kick your ass in Minecraft and then go stare depressingly out a window while listening to Lana and vaping like I don’t have gear schematics to finish."
"I’m removing you from the Discord server, you fucking NPC."
"Good luck sucking yourself off."
They were good friends. They’d been gaming together over Discord for a year now, and Midoriya hoped they would never meet in real life. Not because he disliked them — quite the opposite. Tomura was basically a brother to him, and Dabi sounded exactly like the kind of guy Izuku would gladly let ruin him if he weren’t traumatized and uninterested in sex. Still, Dabi being hot was just a fact. Also he was dirty. Tomura kept mentioning that.
Midoriya just sucked at face-to-face interaction.
They knew each other’s social status. Deku was a second-year support course student at the hero academy who spent way too much effort making projects for hero course students, drank too much coffee, poisoned himself with pod chemicals, made too many sarcastic comments, stayed too quiet, cried too much. He annoyed everyone (in his opinion), hated introspection, and hated himself. He worked until he passed out so he wouldn’t have to go to therapy. Or slit his wrists. Izuku hadn’t decided which one yet. Still, it was kind of entertaining watching his life become a colossal pile of unresolved trauma — both his and everyone else’s — ever since he entered his dream school. Honestly, right now Izuku was more satisfied with life than ever.
And the League… The League was just the League. Tomura wanted more power and more PS5 controllers. Dabi wanted nothing because he was emo.
And both of them were deeply traumatized too. Deku couldn’t stand their impromptu therapy sessions and armchair psychology. He physically could not handle emos. Izuku hated emos and redheads because he watched South Park three times too many as a kid. Which is why Power Loader called him racist.
"Kill that bitchy little attitude inside you and admit you adore me. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you were a stalker with a whole shrine dedicated to my photos."
"The only shrine I have is dedicated to Ryan Reynolds. And maybe one for Power Loader too. But that one’s for rituals to make sensei stop being ginger."
"Racist!" screamed both the League leader and his right-hand man in unison.
Deku loved silence. Life, however, did not love him. That’s why, with his obsession over Lana, he knew literally every phonk track in existence. Because nobody worked in those workshops. They went absolutely feral under bass so heavy that one time Shuichi literally started bleeding from the ears. His class consisted of clinically insane people with deeply specific developmental issues. Izuku leaned toward the theory that Hatsume wasn’t just a genius ahead of her time, but autistic too. He loved her dearly.
Once Midoriya tried to start a rebellion over the workshop music, but it immediately turned into fucking Pearl Harbor mixed with Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Deku hated them with all his soul.
"Just admit you’d all cry if normal music played."
"Admit you’re a bitch!"
And then it all started again.
Tanaka probably would’ve shoved a screwdriver into Remina’s eye if Power Loader hadn’t ended the fun by confiscating the speakers before an entirely plausible murder happened. He was going to expel them all. He repeated that in his head constantly.
Meanwhile Hatsume was lying on the concrete floor crying because she loved testing gadgets while people screamed around her. She was insane.
Midoriya stood in the UA cafeteria wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, trying not to die. It was the first time in a month he’d actually come to eat here. His gastritis was absolutely thrilled. Instant noodles clearly weren’t doing great things to a teenager’s body.
Deku’s eyes hurt from the bright lighting. After spending weeks working in a dim workshop closet, he hadn’t expected to see this clearly. And frankly, he didn’t like the view. Every table was occupied, and Izuku was one millimeter away from lying face-down on the floor and dumping his lunch tray onto himself. He was such a drama queen.
"Hey, Deku! Over here!"
Shinso. A ray of light in a half-dead teenager’s life.
Izuku zigzagged through the crowd toward the table. He wasn’t thrilled about sitting near Hitoshi’s friends, but he didn’t exactly have options. Someone even pulled out a chair for him. Maybe Deku had judged the hero course too harshly.
"Hito, I’d die for you, kill for you, live for you. Will you be the best man at my wedding?"
"I don’t want to attend the wedding of a paranoid wreck and a two-meter Ryan Reynolds clone."
Izuku calmly picked up a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken with his chopsticks and threw it at Shinso. He was no longer his favorite bitch.
"Never come to me for upgrades again, ungrateful son of a bitch."
And then it happened. Midoriya had completely forgotten he’d successfully avoided one very specific asshole in the academy for almost a year and a half. And now he was sitting right across from him. Shinso was dead to him. He was such an idiot.
"Deku?! You fucking nerd, what the hell are you doing here?"
Bakugo was about to develop a nervous twitch. What the actual fuck?
"Eating. It’s lunchtime. What else am I supposed to do in a cafeteria?" Izuku blinked innocently with red sleep-deprived eyes.
"Are you stupid? What the hell are you doing at UA?"
"Studying…? I’m in support, second year. I make your equipment."
Deku had exceeded even his own expectations. He was so proud of himself right now. He hadn’t even cried.
"You seriously never saw me? I almost burned down my dorm last week. It was, like, the hottest and loudest thing to happen in the academy."
And Deku would be proud of that until the day he died. Tomura had said he hung a picture of the burning building in his room because he loved seeing Izuku destroy the UA he hated so much. Heroes, you know how it is.
Bakugo was having the worst possible moment of his life. That stupid Deku really got into UA. Worse — he’d been making his equipment this whole time. His beloved grenade gauntlets, the ones he practically jerked off to at night, had been made by this nerd. This was the darkest timeline. And he already wanted to blow this bastard’s face off. How dare he?
"Well, before this ticking time bomb kills me, I’m gonna go cry over technical mechanics some more. Hito, babe, swing by when you’ve got a minute."
Izuku grabbed his udon and coffee to go, waving at Shinso and Bakugo’s horrified classmates. He was never leaving the workshop to socialize again. He was perfectly happy with Mei, the coffee machine, and the gadgets constantly threatening to explode. Deku was antisocial, and he was ready to admit it.
"What the fuck just happened? Panda, how did that quirkless loser get in here, and how do you know him?!"
"Bakugo, Deku is literally the smartest student in support. His scores are on par with graduating students. Do you really think getting in here was hard for him? And don’t you fucking dare judge him for being quirkless. I’ll personally throw you into a vat of acid if you ever do anything to my angel. So you’re the Kacchan Izuku used to worship in middle school. I know what you did to him. I know what you said to him. I know how much money he spent on psychologists."
Shinso was so fucking furious that even cat therapy wouldn’t calm him down right now. Deku was a magical person, and Bakugo had done something horrible enough to give Midoriya literal depression? Hitoshi was disgusted. He’d actually liked Katsuki before. Not anymore. Now he wanted justice.
"Don’t come near me again. Or Deku. Unless you want problems, Blasty."
He picked up his tray and headed toward the workshops to eat lunch with the best person on the planet.
"You’re such a piece of shit."
Bakugo clenched his fists so hard he nearly growled.
The past never dies.
Midoriya was bored. He had already soldered twelve different cartridges for every vape pod in class because he was greedy for that dirty money. Now all he had left was learning how to assemble iPhones blindfolded, and he’d be ready for Chinese citizenship. God, he was so racist.
Today was the day he felt ready for another attempt at socialization. Izuku wanted to play Mortal Kombat with Tomura and Dabi. At their base.
Okay, mostly he wanted bread and circuses, so he was secretly hoping those two idiots would start fighting over who was stronger — Kitana or Mileena.
Obviously, it was Sheeva.
The teenager walked through the streets in a mask, dark glasses, and a hood so nobody would recognize him. He did study at UA, after all, and wandering around sketchy neighborhoods wasn’t exactly heroic behavior. Not that he was a hero anyway.
The moment Deku kicked the bar door open hard enough to nearly break it off the hinges, a bag full of chips and snacks flew directly into the League leader’s face, completely disorienting him. Tonight was definitely going to be fun.
"Well then, girls. Circle up. We’re braiding each other’s hair and painting nails. Then we’ll reveal our tragic backstories while stress-eating junk food and fast food."
Tomura and Deku both wanted to punch Dabi so badly. He was such an idiot.
"You’re so tiny, Bunny. I thought you’d be taller… and more alive-looking."
This was the first time they’d seen each other in person. Izuku could at least google the two most dangerous villains in Japan, but they had no way of finding one awkward, generic-looking teenager among millions.
"I liked you better as a scrawny blue-haired gamer than a giant gray corpse."
"I’m deeply offended, mini-NPC. I could crush you with one finger."
Deku walked over and hugged him. He loved Tomura. Tomura had helped him during one of the worst periods of his life, when Izuku did nothing but sleep and occasionally game with the guys a few times a week. Midoriya would never admit it out loud, but if somebody asked whether he sided with heroes or villains, then solely because of Tomura, he’d abandon all his dreams and switch sides without hesitation. Because unloved children had to stick together and form organizations. And then sow chaos. And play Animal Crossing. Yeah, things escalated that quickly.
"Bunny, you look terrifyingly exhausted."
"Nah, that’s just the standard support course starter pack. You know — eyebags, caffeine addiction, suicidal thoughts, heroin… You get it. We’re very special over there."
Dabi snorted and pulled the teenager into a hug too. Izuku loved this Endeavor-obsessed psycho just as much as Shigaraki. They were adorable whenever they weren’t trauma-dumping in Discord calls. Time for their first group photo! Izuku took a selfie while Tomura flipped off the camera and Dabi half-strangled Midoriya.
He couldn’t hang the picture on the dorm wall or frame it here, but he was absolutely saving it inside a folder protected by a hundred passwords. Right next to the memory of that one glorious night when he simultaneously soldered contacts inside the dorm TV, texted Mei on the phone, discussed magnetic waves with Toranpu, blasted phonk music in the background and then the TV fucking exploded because Izuku had accidentally built an atomic bomb instead of a motherboard. And that had been the greatest performance of his life. He saw angels. He saw heaven. And he was happy he almost died like that. Because he was dead inside anyway, and nobody understood his Scream Queens references. They weren’t worthy of him.
As detached as Deku liked to pretend he was from his mental health — which effectively ceased to exist after intro to psychology during first year — he still had moments of weakness sometimes.
"You know, Tomura… I always dreamed of becoming a hero. Everyone told me I’d never amount to anything and that I should jump off a roof praying for a quirk in my next life. And I still want it. I still want to become someone who saves people with a smile. But it’s stupid. Maybe they were right. I haven’t accomplished anything, not even by getting into UA. I’m like a white crow there. You get it?"
Izuku pressed himself closer against Shigaraki, who was playing on his PSP, slipping under his arm to watch his progress in Animal Crossing.
"I thought you didn’t play stuff like this."
"Babe, I have a five-digit level in Candy Crush. I literally play everything."
Midoriya respected him so much. He had found a good person — somebody willing to send him lives in that hellish candy game.
They lay there quietly. Deku liked that Shigaraki didn’t shove him off the comfortable bed and instead continued enduring hugs and deep conversations about something genuinely important to the teenager. His dream.
"I wanted to become a hero too."
"Really?"
"Yeah. My sister and I wanted to become a duo. Protect people like our grandmother did. And then I killed them. My family. Nobody helped me. Only All For One did. That’s why I want to destroy heroes and everything connected to them. They’re hypocritical bastards."
Midoriya gently combed through the greasy strands of his hair and rested his head on Tomura’s chest. Tomura needed help more than anyone. Even if he himself didn’t think so.
"You’re revealing your tragic backstory. That’s adorable. You love me."
"Trust me, I would’ve skipped this cutscene. I don’t need your fake help. It’s enough that you’re crushing my sternum."
"It’s called hugging, idiot. You clearly like it anyway, mister-I’m-the-strongest."
Deku pulled a blanket over both of them, preparing to sleep. That was enough emotional honesty for one day. He’d had a rough day.
"You really are the strongest person I know, Dusty."
"Shut up and sleep, scarecrow."
Tomura was undeniably flattered by those words. He’d wanted to hear them long ago, before he became what he was now. The Symbol of Evil. All For One’s successor. But to Izuku, he would always be strong. Because he was the one who showed him that social status didn’t define a person. Shigaraki would create a world where Deku could become a hero.
But that strange teenager had already become his hero forever. Even if Izuku himself would never believe it.
"Goodnight, Izuku."
Mei stood in the center of the stadium and was moments away from exploding from boredom. These young prodigies from class 2-A were so… mediocre. This place desperately lacked the influence of the management course. And a fucking stylist. Seriously, what kind of embarrassing disasters were these people?
Nearby, Aizawa stared down his students with the exhausted gaze of a man who had remained standing for two straight days entirely out of stubbornness. In the heat. God, sunlight was the mortal enemy of this lesson. How deeply he hated light.
"I’m getting blackout drunk tonight. This day is so hot and so fucking terrible. From beginning to end. Every single minute of it," Midoriya muttered, completely ignoring the teacher standing only a few meters away.
Aizawa understood him completely. Deku was officially his favorite support course kid now.
"Oh my God, where did that dumbass attach the magnets? FUCK, MEI, HE’S GONNA SHORT-CIRCUIT!"
Boom.
Kaminari had never exactly been known for intelligence, but come on. They were literally given instructions for the suits. What the hell was wrong with these damn heroes?
Deku instinctively moved to run over, but he couldn’t exactly stop explosions, so fuck that. Nobody appreciated their work anyway.
"You know what? Honestly, it can’t get any worse."
And then the magnet casing flew directly into Bakugo’s gauntlet, and Hatsume immediately started praying to every known god that it wouldn’t blow up the entire stadium too. Because Izuku wouldn’t survive that. Because he had built those grenade bracers himself.
Midoriya slowly put on dark glasses and collapsed onto the grass. His slay queen era had officially ended. Depression was back.
Then Katsuki screamed that the top panel had blown off too. Curtains closed.
"You extras! Go fix my equipment!"
Aizawa could swear the mini mechanic’s eye twitched. Or maybe those were tears.
"I’m going to kill him. I swear my children did not die in vain."
Shouta mentally sympathized with the poor kid. And agreed with every word.
"Don’t freak out. You’ll build new ones. Power Loader-sensei will understand. It’s not your fault — it’s Electrozuma’s."
"Because he’s a fucking ginger."
"He’s blond."
"He’ll be a corpse if this project doesn’t count toward my graduation thesis, Mei. I’ll sic Dusty on him and turn his ashes into an ashtray."
The homeroom teacher of the disaster-class disguised as hero students went off to deal with the chaos after five consecutive explosions, three of which had surprisingly not been caused by Bakugo but by a chain reaction involving electromagnetic discharge, nitroglycerin, and sulfuric acid. Ashido was probably standing nearby.
And somewhere during a meeting with Re-Destro, Tomura suddenly sneezed and dropped "Father."