Chapter Text
Kacchan was angry again. Izuku watched him storm around the school courtyard, flames exploding out of his palms like small firecrackers. He winced as the blond's gaze alighted on a boy laughing with his friends. Cringed as those same palms made contact with the boy's arm, flames licking at the other's uniform. The unfortunate and wholely random victim of Kacchan's rage reeled back, batting at his arm frantically. Kacchan seems only angered by this reaction, and grabbed the boy's collar, lifting him with ease. Even from behind the window, Izuku could see the dark blot on his wrist as his shirt sleeve slipped down. A mark to remind Izuku of his place. To remind him why he wasn't at that very moment trying to help the boy. He simply couldn't.
The very sight of that blot hurt him far more than phantom pricks across his body where Kacchan's flames had burnt his skin before. But Izuku couldn't look away. He would always do this. He promised he would. If he couldn't help someone, he would make himself watch as they suffered. He'd commit the looks on their faces to memory, and make sure his skin remembered as well. So he stared, jaw clenched as the boy surrendered himself to the mercy of Kacchan and his goons. He watched as the kid who'd just been enjoying himself and having fun curled into himself on the floor while they attacked him, punching and kicking. Izuku flinched back, feeling every blow as it came and after it went. He wanted to curl up now too, because now blurry, indistinct shapes were flashing behind his eyes, but he focused on the present. Focused on the scene, and let it burn itself onto his retinas.
"Midoriya!" Sensai snapped. Izuku jumped, heart suddenly far quicker, and far higher in his throat. "Sensai?" He asked. His homeroom teacher scowled at him. "Focus on cleaning the goddamn desk, null!" That was enough to have Izuku's attention diverted back to the task at hand, though his eyes would still stray back to where the poor boy was huddled, friends gingerly inspecting his wounds. 'Too late.' he thought coldly. 'If you were his friends, you'd have protected him.' but even as he thought it, he knew why they did it.
Kacchan was cruel. He hurt anyone who tried to stop him. And the other children were scared of him. Scared, and raised in a world where Natural Selection came into play far to early. He sighed, and took a break from scrubbing at his desk to shake his wrist out. He stared down at his desk. It wasn't even half done yet, and he'd likely be there well after the end of the day, but most of the slurs were illegible, and the newspaper that had been glued to it with another tragic story about the suicide of another quirkless child had come off. Mostly.
He sighed again, and glanced down at his hands. They were once more peeling from the chemicals, blood starting to flow from small gaps and cracks. He pulled out some moisturizer and rubbed it on. As he did, he noticed a scrawl of wobbly writing begin to appear of the inside of his wrist. He glanced up. Sensai was reading a magazine. Looking back down he notes the colour. Red.
Little dove, Why are you bleeding? Are you washing your hands too much again?
Izuku grimaced, and pressed his thumb nail into his wrist four times in a circle. He was grateful, for once, that he didn't have to respond. He hated lying to his soulmates.
Did you buy that moisturiser we recommend?
Golden, this time.
You don't have to respond right now, but try to later. We're worried. Your hands are almost always bleeding, and we can all see the scars that have been popping up more, recently. We aren't worried about how they'll look on us, we just don't want your skin to get damaged. I know it's ironic considering the SH and we all know your stance on it (which we're determined to change one way or another) but you promised to try and look after yourself.
Izuku grinned slightly. For some reason, the guilt tripping never worked on him. He wondered when they'd figure that out. Probably never, considering he lied through his teeth every time. In a way, he was sorry. Just never when they actively tried to make him feel bad, and not for the reasons they did so. He knew they meant well. But they didn't know what he did. They didn't know he deserved it. They didn't know it was all his fault.