Chapter Text
Izuku drops to his knees, making a harsh noise as they hit the ground. Kacchan just stands over him for a moment, before striding out of the abandoned classroom, his lackeys following close behind.
He- Izuku must have heard him wrong. Kacchan wouldn’t have told him- sudden sobs wrack Izuku’s body as he clutches at his chest. There was no denying it. His childhood best friend just told him to kill himself.
The small boy chokes on a sob, tears hitting the ground below him as he breaks apart.
Izuku had been cutting since the beginning of middle school, the only time he had ever felt at peace being when a blade was pressed to his skin. Sure, he’d had passing thoughts about ending it all, but who knows, maybe one day he could still be a hero, so he stuck it out.
But Kacchan had just sent him spiraling, maybe killing himself would be better after all.
He rubs at his swollen eyes, shakily standing and gathering his things before beginning the walk home, his shoes dragging on the rough concrete with every step.
As Izuku walks, he feels a calm numbness settle over him, already thinking wistfully of his razor blade at home as he walks under a small bridge, his shoe scuffing over a sewer tile as he goes.
Suddenly, the small lid bursts open and Izuku whips around, adrenaline already pumping through his veins as he watches a horrible green sludge pour out of the opening, coming to tower over him.
Izuku’s lip trembles as he falls a step back in horror.
“Perfect, a medium sized skin suit-,” the sludge rumbles, “Don’t fight it kid,”
It shoots forward, enveloping Izuku within its form in seconds as it shoves its way down his airway, suffocating him as he tries in vain to claw at the liquid.
Izuku isn’t sure how long he’s there, fighting and clawing before his vision begins to go dark around the edges and he feels himself grow sluggish.
He hears a muffled shout through the sludge, but is unable to make out what was said before the sludge is blasted off of him, the only thing keeping him from flying away with it being a strong arm clutching the back of his uniform.
The strong wind dies down and Izuku drops to the ground, coughing and hacking, tears still running down his face.
“Are you alright young man?” A deep voice booms.
Izuku looks up at the form blearily, eyes widening in wonder as he realizes, holy shit, All Might is standing there, All Might is the one that saved him.
His eyes swim with fresh tears, “Oh my god, All Might-,” he gapes.
“Ah, a fan!” the Symbol of Peace beams down at him, “It was very nice to meet you, but I’m afraid I must go, duty calls!”
All Might lets out a short but booming laugh as he prepares to take off. Izuku, realizing this, dives forward with a cut off protest as All Might launches into the sky-.... with Izuku latched onto his pant leg.
—-
They landed on a roof once All Might realized, and only a few moments after the rough landing, All Might transformed in a plume of smoke, into a frail elderly man. Izuku had gaped at him until his mouth snapped shut so fast his teeth clacked together as his role model answered his question from before.
“Without a quirk? No, I don’t think you can be a hero, young man,” he says gravely, beginning to ramble on about how being part of the police force was more realistic, but Izuku had stopped listening.
He felt like his chest was caving in, his hopes and dreams being crushed under the shiny gold boot of the world's best hero. He was snapped out of it by the sound of the roof door slamming shut.
Izuku falls to his knees for the second time that day.
—
Time passes fast, Izuku thinks as he looks up to the sky hours later, the sun sinking below the horizon. The young boy’s tears had long since run dry, the stillness of the evening only interrupted by the occasional sniffle.
Izuku had decided his fate hours before, just after his dreams were crushed. He would be killing himself tonight. He had no reason left to live, he just craved the sweet release of death with every cell in his body.
With a sigh, he pulls out his notebook, ripping out a page to scribble down a goodbye note for whoever finds his things, hopefully whoever does will get it to his mom, not that she’ll care anyways.
He pulls himself up with a grunt, shuffling to the edge of the roof and slipping out of his shoes. Izuku leans over to tuck the note in his right shoe, making sure it’s secure before sitting on the edge of the roof, swinging his legs over the side.
Izuku takes a second to just watch the city, the people on the streets below him all seeming tiny, the cars insignificant. The sun had long since set, leaving his surroundings lit up by street lights and the moon.
A soft smile slides onto his lips, feeling at peace for the first time in ages.
“Hey kid,” a gruff voice sounds from behind him.
Izuku doesn’t even flinch, just glances over his shoulder to see a tall, scruffy looking man with messy dark locks flowing down his shoulders and over his grey scarf. Izuku squints for a moment, wondering why he looks so familiar before it all clicks into place as he notices the bright yellow goggles upon his head.
“Eraserhead,” Izuku breathes out with a small smile, before turning back to stare out at the horizon.
The erasure hero looks momentarily surprised at Izuku’s recognition but quickly disregards it as he steps closer.
“Why don’t you get off that ledge,” Eraserhead says softly.
Izuku just shakes his head, unaware of the grey capture weapon slowly floating towards him until it quickly wraps tight around his waist and he’s yanked sharply back onto the roof with a grunt and a relieved exhale from the hero.
Izuku stares at the sky for a moment before letting out a heart wrenching sob. Eraserhead shoots forward, scooping the boy up in his arms and murmuring reassurances as he clutches to his hero suit, sobs shaking his whole body.
“I-I’m sorry!” the boy wails into the Hero’s chest.
“Shh, it’s ok, you’re ok,” Eraserhead reassures him softly, smoothing down the unruly green hair with a surprisingly gentle touch.
The boy's breathing begins to slow, as he calms down within the hold of the pro. Izuku leans back out of his grip, standing and walking sluggishly to grab his shoes while Eraserhead watches warily, his capture weapon at the ready.
Izuku slips one shoe on, carefully pulling the note out of the other one and sliding it into his pocket before stepping into his other shoe. He pulls on his bag before turning to face the pro with unsettling, numb eyes.
Izuku drops into a deep bow, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, sir,” he apologized.
Eraserhead just stands there, staring at the pitifully small boy as he bows, apologizing for being saved, and the pro feels his heart crack.
“Stand up,” he says gruffly, “C’mon lets get off this roof ok?”
Izuku straightens up, nodding slightly, following close after the hero as he leads them both down the stairs.