Chapter Text
At the ripe age of five, the time where you'd probably be starting kindergarten or preschool, Izuku Midoriya learned that life was horrible.
Life would squeeze you like a lemon. Life didn't like you unless you were sweet enough to give them cavities. Nobody liked lemons. Only freaks. Perhaps that is why he was a freak.
Being quirkless was his biggest mistake in life.
It is the reason he became a worthless piece of trash. Another speck of dust for the Earth to decay, and use for materials.
Even then he took up too much space.
Despite this, he tried to be optimistic. What else would he do? He couldn't kill himself, not yet atleast. He hadn't even put up a fight yet.
Before his diagnosis he has Kacchan, well, Bakugo now. The kid had beat him black and blue ever since his diagnosis, compared to their original.. whatever.
So, he wasn't too good at the friend thing anymore. Whatever, he still could be useful. And perhaps his middle school was wrong, because God forbid he even try to go into a hero-school, and hat deserved a suicide note and some.
After that, his optimism was deflated. That didn't mean he had to give up though. There was still, well, other ways to be useful he supposed.
Until that slime monster attacked. At that point, he knew it was over.
He wasn't going to be the good thing that changed the world.
He was going to be everyone's worst nightmare. A demon of some sort, hopefully. An unstoppable force. Something that'd destroy everything in it's path with tears and frustration. He wanted everyone to suffer the same thing he did. Because life wasn't fair, and everyone needed to understand this.
They were privileged. He was not. And they'd understand this.
So for years he trained. Made a couple of enemies, fought a ton of hoodlums and villains, and some. Hell, he'd even made villain friends! He didn't know what that made him though, for he wasn't a villain. He wasn't on their side. He was on his own. Like he'd always been.
He gained the strength he needed. The proper tools. All that was left to do was to make a plan. To show everyone who he truly was, what they'd created on their own. Because, it was a city of angels. That's what they'd called them, right? He wished they were able to see that there was so much more to life than this.
But unfortunately, he wouldn't leave them a chance to see the rest of their lives.