CTRL.ALT.DELETE: Or what doesn't kill you makes you stronger

by Becca12345

Summary:

Izuku Midoriya finds out he has a quirk in the worst way possible. By dying. There's good news though, everytime he dies he gets a quirk that helps him adapt to whatever killed him, whether from his own hand, or others.

Notes:

This is a gift for Flightsoffiction, for helping me figure out how to rewrite Summoned in a way that I actually like this time around! Remember, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, if you want to ask for a gift fic or want to ask me to write a fic, I'm totally up for it. Just remember that I do have a lot of projects going, so there might be delays.

Chapter 1: CTRL.ALT.DELETE: Or what doesn't kill me makes me stronger

I

Izuku Midoriya is four and a half when he discovers his quirk—or at least, he thinks he does.

By then, he’s already had a little time to get used to his diagnosis and to the way people’s voices change when they talk about him. He’s had time to watch his father walk out after yelling something about his mother being “a loose whore,” whatever that means. And he’s had time to get used to the fact that Mommy is never home anymore.

It’s fine. She has to work three times as hard now. Instead of being head nurse, she’s been demoted to janitor at the hospital where she used to wear crisp white uniforms and smile at patients. All because of him, apparently.

People whisper that it’s hard, raising a “null” in a society full of quirks. Doctors say they don’t really know how to handle children like him. At his last check-up, he overheard a nurse telling his mother about “homes for people like him.” Mom didn’t say anything, but she gave a strange, unreadable look to the Humarise flyer the nurse slid across the counter.

Still—he gets to play with Kacchan. Even if “play” now means standing still or running while Kacchan, “Fingers,” and “Wings” take turns using their quirks on him. Kacchan says it’s training, helping Izuku prepare for his future—maybe as “stress relief” at some low-tier agency if he’s lucky. Kacchan doesn’t say he could be a hero anymore. He doesn’t even offer the title of “sidekick” these days.

But it’s fine. Izuku needs these skills. Right?

---

Today, Kacchan wants to play Agency Bakugo, where the others have to follow every command he gives. That includes squeezing through the fence with the sign that reads:

Danger! No Trespassing! Steep Ravine Ahead!

Izuku hesitates, but Kacchan isn’t afraid—and Deku isn’t allowed to complain. So he follows, hanging back just far enough that Fingers can’t shove his hand down Izuku’s pants to make him yelp, and far enough that Wings can’t haul him a few feet up just to drop him. One day, Wings will be able to drop him from higher. High enough that he won’t walk away.

They reach a log spanning the ravine. It looks slick with moss.

“Come on, let’s go!” Kacchan barks, stepping out first.

He’s halfway across when the log shifts under their weight. It tips. Kacchan falls into the shallow, rushing water below.

“Are you okay, Kacchan?” Izuku calls, peering down the slope.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Kacchan isn’t getting up. Maybe he’s hurt worse than he wants to admit. Without thinking, Izuku scrambles down the steep bank and reaches out a hand to help.

“I don’t need your stinkin’ help, Deku!”

Instead of taking the offered hand, Kacchan grabs Izuku’s arm and yanks. Izuku flies over his shoulder and hits the water face-first. Brackish water floods his mouth and nose. He comes up sputtering—

—and a hand slams into the back of his neck.

“I’ll show you! Nobody needs the help of a stinkin’ Deku null like you!”

Null.

Kacchan’s never used that word before. Adults had. His science teacher had. Izuku still remembers standing in front of the whole class in nothing but his underpants while the teacher pointed out the differences between “quirked” and “null” bodies. But hearing it from Kacchan hurts in a way he isn’t ready for.

— A palm slams into the back of his neck again.

The hand shoves. Water closes over his head.

---

Cold.
Dark.
A burning in his chest like fire underwater.
Hands and feet kicking—weakly—slipping in the current.

Up. He just needs to go up.

A jerk yanks him into the air. He coughs, chokes, tries to inhale—

“Are you gonna apologize? For looking down on us?”

He shakes his head, tries to ask what, but another coughing fit cuts him off.

“APOLOGIZE!”

The hand shoves down again—hard.

---

The river swallows him whole.
Sound distorts—warps—becomes nothing but a dull roar.
Black flecks creep into the edges of his sight.
His lungs convulse, demand air, but when his mouth opens, all that floods in is freezing, dirty water.

Thoughts scatter.
Muscles go soft.
The cold stops feeling cold.

Somewhere, far away, Wings’ voice rips through the muffled dark—

STOP IT! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HIM!

But the sound is fading.
Light is fading.
Everything is—

---

“Morning is here! Morning is here! Morning is here!”

Izuku jolts upright in bed, gasping, choking on water he shouldn’t be able to choke on. Brackish water spills from his mouth onto his blankets.

He stares, wide-eyed.
Bad dream, he tells himself. Just a bad dream.

Except nightmares don’t leave you coughing up river water.

His gaze flicks to the calendar. Same day. Before Kacchan had dragged him out to play.

Shaking, he pads into the bathroom. But the mirror isn’t right. Staring back at him, just below his ears, were slits. Gills.

It can’t be real.

He fills the sink, dunks his head. At first, he holds his breath. Then instinct fails and—he breathes. No panic. No burning in his lungs. Just water sliding in and out like air. When he opens his eyes, the water is crystal clear.

He has a quirk.

His mind keeps trying to leap to excitement, but it’s like the joy can’t stick. It slides right off the hollow place in his chest. Still, he thinks, once he shows Kacchan and Mom, things will be different. He has a quirk, sure it's kind of lame, the ability to breathe and see underwater, but it's still a quirk! Maybe he won’t be Number One, but he could still be a marine hero, like Gang Orca.

He goes to his mother’s room—

—and stops.

The gap under the door is lined with dust.

She hasn’t been home. Not in days. Not in weeks. Maybe longer. How bad of a son is he that he didn't notice her not being home for so long? Pretty bad. No wonder she left.

---

He forces himself to think. Step one—tell Kacchan. That has to help. Step two—register the quirk. Maybe it’ll stop the name-calling. Step three—figure out what happens when he turns thirteen.

He doesn’t know if being a hero is possible. Without money, nothing is.

But that’s for later.

Today’s Izuku is going to tell Kacchan the good news.

Even if part of him still feels like he’s at the bottom of that river.

Chapter 2: Trial by fire

Summary:

Izuku can't wait to tell Kacchan he has a quirk now! Only it doesn't go as good as he hoped it would go.

He had been stunned, he thinks.

Because if he hadn’t been stunned by the thought that his mother might be gone, he might have noticed the letter sooner.

It’s sitting on her pillow, folded in perfect thirds.

Izuku,
I was never meant to be a mother. I see that now. I’m sorry. Sorry that I can’t be what you need. I’ll continue paying for the apartment and groceries until your thirteenth birthday. At that time, the law says that quirkless people are adults. You can do this, baby. And if you can’t, it’s no longer my problem. Don’t look for me.
Mom.

He wants to cry. Really, he does. But crying has never done him any favors.

And now… now he has to talk to Kacchan.

Because even if his mother promised to keep paying until he’s “an adult,” she could change her mind about that as quickly as she seemed to have changed her mind about being his parent.

Still, he’s a big boy. And now he has a quirk.

---

He runs to Kacchan’s house. Aunt Mitsuki answers the door with a grin.

“Hey, Zuku! My favorite nephew!”

“I’m your only nephew!”

“Of course, that doesn’t stop you from being my favorite! You here to take the brat out to play?”

“Yeah, Auntie, I have to tell him the good news!”

But she’s already gone before he can explain more. Pity. He wanted her to know, too. But maybe it’s better this way. Then Kacchan won’t think he’s looking down on him for telling Auntie first.

He can hope.

---

Kacchan stomps down the stairs, glaring as always.

“Let’s go play, Kacchan!” Izuku says, grinning.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Deku!” But he shoves on his shoes anyway, and they run to the park.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I got my quirk!”

Kacchan’s eyes narrow. “No way? Really? I thought the doctor said you were useless.”

Izuku frowns but shrugs. It wasn’t like Kacchan was wrong. “Well, he must have been wrong, because I got my quirk!”

“What is it? Can you breathe fire like your dad? Or summon stuff like your mom? Or both? Whatever it is, it won’t compare to mine.”

Izuku ignores the jab. “It’s… I can breathe and see underwater.”

Kacchan’s lip curls. “That’s lame. You’re not even gonna be a sidekick with a quirk like that. Should’ve known a Deku is always a Deku, quirk or no quirk.”

Kacchan shoves him.

“I… I thought you’d be happy for me. I know it’s lame. I never said it could be better than yours. I know better than that. I just thought… I could at least be your sidekick.”

“How stupid are you, Deku? Of course, you can’t be my sidekick with such a lame quirk.”

“B… but, Kacchan—”

“And stop calling me that! We’re not friends! I’d never be friends with someone with such a lame quirk!”

---

Something in Izuku’s chest twists. Before he can answer, Kacchan’s palms spark.

The first pop of heat feels like someone touched a lit match to his shirt. The second turns the air around them into a wall of fire.

It hits him full-force—
—skin blistering, swelling, tightening like it’s trying to crawl off his bones—
—every nerve screaming—
—pain pouring through him in white-hot waves until there’s nothing but pain—

He can’t breathe. The air isn’t air anymore—it’s molten, it’s knives in his lungs.

His thoughts dissolve.

The world shrinks to one smell: sweet, cloying caramel.

Then nothing.

---

“Morning is here! Morning is here! Morning is here!”

Izuku jerks awake, hacking and choking—not on water this time, but on smoke. His room smells faintly of it, like the ghost of a campfire.

He stares at his arms, at skin that should be blistered and raw but is perfectly smooth.

It should feel like a miracle. Instead, all he can think is: Not having a quirk ruined my life. Having one doesn’t seem to help either.

And whatever else happens, he’s not going to talk to Kacchan again. He might be stupid, but he’s not that stupid. Not enough to keep running headlong into the same death over and over.

And it’s only now hitting him — he died, didn’t he? He had to have. And it had been Kacchan’s fault both times.

No… not Kacchan. Kacchan had died the first time too, the moment he shoved Izuku under the water and held him there. Possibly even sooner.

Katsuki was right — his quirk was lame. But now, he suspects it could be more. Because if he died, and he’s sure he did, then his quirk isn’t just “breathe and see underwater.”

Could there be a quirk that turned back time — and let him adapt? Was there such a thing? There had to be, because he refused to believe both times were just dreams.

This would need research. And maybe… maybe he shouldn’t register his real quirk at all. He could live with just “Adaptation” on the registry.

It was vague enough that any future “incidents” could be waved off.

Whatever this quirk was, it wasn’t just survival.

And if he was right, then one day, someone else would notice. He wasn't sure if he could trust anyone but himself to ensure that his quirk wouldn't be abused, and even himself, he isn't sure he can trust. 

Chapter 3: The universe doesn't care if you don't want to 'test' your death quirk

Summary:

Izuku does not want to test his new quirk, no matter how curious he is. Too bad the universe doesn't care what he wants.

Izuku can't deny that once he figured out his quirk, he was morbidly curious about what would happen if he died in certain ways. What if he ate poisonous plants? What if he took all the sleeping pills in his mother’s medicine cabinet to see if he would then be able to function on less sleep? But the idea of testing those limits scared him. He’d died once, maybe twice. That was enough for now.

School hadn’t gotten any easier. No one called him quirkless anymore, but the nickname “Deku” stuck like glue, and the bullying never stopped. Adults still barely noticed him unless trouble followed. No matter how curious he was, he wasn't going to seek out death, but he wasn't going to be surprised if it happened a few more times. After all, he hadn't asked for Katsuki to hold his head under the river until he could no longer breathe. He hadn't asked Katsuki to beat him to death with his quirk. So no matter how curious he was, no matter how tempting it was to test this to see if he could be more powerful, he would not test it. 

That morning, on the way to school, he heard frantic honking.
He looked up to see a man trying to stop a runaway truck.

You know how people talk about fight or flight? Izuku learned there was a third option: freeze.

The horn blared. The truck bore down. His legs didn’t move.

The impact was blinding. Ribs snapped, his breath was stolen, and he bounced across the pavement like a ragdoll. But it wasn’t instant death.

Through the haze of pain, he heard a voice: “Hang on, kid.”

Black hair. Tired eyes. A scarf coiled loosely around his neck, yellow goggles dangling.

“A… are you a hero?” Izuku rasped. The fabric of the man’s uniform felt strange under his fingertips — strong, flexible.

“Yeah, kid. Name’s Eraserhead. Just hang on, we’ll get you to the hospital.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, kid. Keep talking to me.”

A metallic taste filled his mouth. Oh. That was probably a rib through his lung.

“Eraser… cough… do you think… someone with a quirk that… cough… needs them to die to get stronger… could be a hero?”

“Anyone can be a hero, kid. No matter the quirk. But even if you have a quirk like that, you shouldn't go looking for ways to hurt yourself. I’d be very upset if you did.”

“I… cough… don’t think… that’ll be a problem… thanks for… answering…”

“No, kid, stay with me—!”

He thought he felt chest compressions, but he was so tired…

---

'Morning is here! Morning is here! Morning is here!”

He doesn't think he wants to find out what quirk he got by being run over. He finds out anyway when Katsuki tries to punch him in the gut for 'ignoring him', and he doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the explosions' heat either. Great, so now he has impact-resistant and fire-resistant skin. But resistance is not perfect. He learns that when Katsuki yells something about

'I'll show you!' and the loudest, hottest explosion yet hits him. 

---

“Morning is here! Morning is here! Morning is here!”

Three deaths, all from Katsuki.

It hurt more than the injuries, realizing that the boy he once idolized was more like a villain than a hero.

---

He stayed home the next morning. The secretary at school didn’t even ask for his mom — just said, “Don’t die,” like she couldn’t care less if he did.

So Izuku sat at his computer.

He looks up the word hero. The legal definition is a person who is licensed to use their quirk to stop crime and help people. Huh. That... that doesn't sound like Katsuki. For one thing, no matter how much the teachers say he's already a hero, Katsuki does not have a license to use his quirk.

He turns to searching for the definition of villain. Right there in black and white, he reads it. A villain is a person who uses their quirk to commit a crime. Katsuki uses his quirk on him all the time. Does that count? Even though Katsuki is a kid, surely that doesn't count, right? He does some more searching. There's no legal age limit on who can be named a villain. Does this mean a child can be a villain? But no, that's not possible, is it? Everyone always said Katsuki would be a hero. He even said it! He goes to his favorite website — AllMightNet.com. You could send questions to All Might. He doesn't think it's the actual All Might answering the emails. He's not that stupid. But he has to ask. If anyone would know, it's the number one hero, right?

He typed:

Mr. All Might, if a person you know is using their quirk to hurt another person, and they’re both kids, does that make that person a villain?

The reply came from [email protected]:

Sorry, I know you were expecting All Might. He can’t answer everyone personally. I’m his secretary, but I passed your question along.

The answer is yes — that child is a villain under the law. However, they’re still young. If you talk to the police now, they might only get a warning.

All Might recommends Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa. He’ll take it seriously.

Oh. So, All Might didn't say it, but the people who work for All Might must be just as good. That means Katsuki really is a villain, isn't he? What is he supposed to do about this? He can't imagine watching Katsuki be taken away like a villain, even if he is one. For today, he thinks he's just going to stay home. When he wakes up and sees that it's tomorrow, he breathes a sigh of relief. Still, he doesn't want to go to school. So instead, he goes for a walk, just to clear his head when someone clotheline's him. He chokes and is suddenly hauled up by a kid with red and white hair

 “Run! He’s gonna catch me!”

“Who?”

“My dad! I can’t keep training! I won’t end up like Touya, I refuse!”

“Uh—there!” Izuku pointed toward an alley infamous for its rotting garbage smell. They ducked behind a dumpster.

A voice roared: “SHOUTO!”

Shouto flinched.

“I’ll distract him,” Izuku whispered, stepping out — and froze when he saw Endeavor himself.

“Boy,” the hero barked, shoving a photo of Shouto’s blank face toward him. A fresh burn peeked from under the collar in that picture, and he wondered how no one could have noticed,  “Have you seen this child?”

Izuku forced a shrug. “No, sir. Just cutting through to get home.”

Heat rolled off Endeavor like an open furnace. Thankfully, Izuku’s skin barely noticed.

Then—

“Endeavor.”

Eraserhead stood at the alley mouth, eyes faintly red. “Got a call you were running through my neighborhood, scaring people.”

“My son is missing.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to terrify residents. Send a BOLO on the hero network. I’ll keep an eye out before you hurt someone.”

Endeavor growled but stalked off.

“Tell your friend he can come out,” Eraserhead said.

“You knew?”

“I know this neighborhood. Plus, he’s standing behind you.”

Shouto stepped into view.

Eraserhead's gaze shifted between them. “I’m going to assume there’s a very good reason you were running from your father.”

“Yes, sir,” Shouto said quietly.

“Good. You’re both coming to the station. We’ll talk to a friend of mine with a truth-telling quirk. You tell him why, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Why me?” Izuku asked.

“You’re a witness. And it might help him to have someone his age there.”

---

Izuku spent the rest of the day sitting with Shouto, feeling — for the first time since his quirk awakened — like he’d actually protected someone without dying for it.

It felt… weird.

And he still didn’t know what to do about Katsuki.

Chapter 4: Author’s note

Summary:

You can skip this chapter if you wish

Because I keep getting this accusation without evidence, I would like to ask, why? I have never used nor will I ever use ChatGBT or any other AI helped for my works. What I do, is a technique I was taught as an elementary school student. It’s called stream of consciousness writing. You see, as a person with undiagnosed Autism/ADHD I had the problem of ‘too many ideas’ whenever it came time for short story writing in class. So, they tried getting me to use the ‘web method’ in which you web out your ideas, but that didn’t work for me. Then they had the bright idea to tell me ‘just write the first thing that comes to mind, after that, try to focus on that one topic’ any body who has ADHD can tell you that hyper focusing is a blessing and a curse. That is why my writing often comes across as either ‘robotic’ or ‘crazy’ because I’m either writing the first thing that comes to mind and going ‘that’s stupid’ once I read it over or it’s a jumbled mess. And secondly, have you people ever tried putting say ‘the Magna Carta’ through an AI checker? I’ll bet if you do, it comes back as ‘definitively written by AI. Rant over. TLDR; stop accusing people who spend their free time trying to get better at writing as being AI generated.