Chapter Text
“Dad.…” Denki whined as his father backed him up into a corner, unbuckling his pants. Shit. You may be asking, Denki, What have you done to get yourself in trouble with adults this time? He failed a test, again. Like, really failed.
Denki had failed so bad that you could almost accuse him of knowing all the answers so that he could purposefully get it wrong. Sure, he knew some of the answers, but then it went on to part B where he had to explain his work. Word problems are not his forte, far from it, like a full 360°...
Wait. That wasn't right, was it? No, no It's 180°, right? Yeah, that was right—
“You’re sixteen years old Denki, you should know the rules by now.” His father's voice always had a cool tang to it — it was icy, aloof - but even now, he heard the anger peaking through in an undertone of a growl.
All because of that stupid test.
Aizawa-sensei had already said that if you get one part of the question wrong then you get the entire thing wrong. So, sure―Denki got some questions right, but they were only in the grammar and English sections of the test. He didn't completely bomb it.
He didn’t know how to follow the rules, no matter how hard he tried. Denki studied, he swore he did. He'd studied with Sero, Kirishima, even Bakugou had taken the time to help him organize his notes and actually get the information through his skull.
"I tried, dad. Okay? I tried! I did my best!"
[Why isn't my best enough for you?] Nothing was ever good enough for his dear old dad.
Danjiro hummed angrily—
"Watch your tone, do you hear me?" his hand was tight on the back of his son's neck and it felt like his throat was closing in on itself - like it was going to collapse under the hand of his tormentor.
Denki’s back strained uncomfortably in the position he was in — and it hurt.
He could feel those familiar eyes burning into the back of his head, and it hurt. “You should study harder. How did you even get into the hero course anyway?”
Denki stayed silent. He knew it was better not to answer when his father was like this. To be fair, he didn’t know the answer either.
Perhaps it was because he was being forced to go. If he failed, then he might not have even been alive to process it.
Denki supposes that thrives quite well under pressure—that, however, does have two sides to it though.
Denki wanted to be a hero anyway, and he passed it off with some bullshit reason that he wanted all the ladies.
Sure, that was a part of it.
But he also wanted to be a hero to save people like him.
So again, two sides to the same coin. It may have been under pressure, but he was also doing it out of his own free will.
Danjiro didn’t have to know that. Secret keeping was his specialty, after all—
In one swift movement, his dad's belt was binding his wrists together—Danjiro pulled Denki’s neck all the way back to look at him.
The movement brought Denki right back to the present, and a lot of pain to his back.
It was tight, too tight—it was making him sweat, and the sweat was making him itchy.
But he couldn’t itch because the belt—cuff thing was restricting his hands from doing anything.
“I told you about spacing out, haven’t I?”
There was a light yellow haze of electricity radiating off of the skin on his arms—and Denki was doing his best to try to real it back in before his dad noticed.
“Yes sir?”
He barely managed to do so before his neck was yanked back again, and Denki’s pants and underwear were roughly pulled off, and his dad was readying himself.
“So then why are you still doing it?”
“Dad please, please, please, please don’t, im sorry- I’ll try harder next time.” Denki begged, but his pleading went on deaf ears as his dad pushed into him.
It was unfair.
“Stop! Please! It hurts! Stop, please! I’ll do better next time! Dad! Dad, please!”
His father zapped him, It was unfair.
“You’d better stop shouting in my face, boy.” Daijiro spat.
“yes sir.” Denki sniffed, biting his lip to keep himself quiet.
His lip bled, but he kept his mouth clamped.
When he was done, he left denki on the floor—his body was twitching—and the only way he could describe it was hurt. He felt like he human embodiment of death.
“And dinner had better be ready by six, or you’re getting it again. Do you understand me?”
Denki gave a sharp nod, wincing while he did. His father kicked him, letting Denki curl in on himself and groan.
“I said, do you understand me?” The piercing yellow eyes that looked down at him were terrifying.
Denki was upset because he would never be able to do anything about it.
Denki was upset because he’d never be able to have any control over anything that ever happened in his life. Maybe he should―no, he could never. Denki has another human being to worry about, he doesn't have the time to be hurting himself.
”Yes sir! I understand ! Please.” The last part was pitifully whimpered out, and his father looked at him with disgust.
It was always so unfair.
Those same eyes used to crinkle with smiles—those same eyes used to be happy looking at him.
and now, Denki feels the same disgust for himself that his father does—because those same eyes are his.
“Good, Now get it done.” he turned his back and walked away.
He held his chin up high, and Danjiro carried himself proudly
—going into his room and slamming the door shut with so much force that it shook the entire house.
It took a while, but Denki was able to heave himself up and get himself upstairs. He couldn’t afford to just leave her all alone up there, She hadn’t even eaten yet.
He hadn’t either.
Denki needed to stop thinking about himself. It wasn’t fair to her.
Denki knocked on his sisters door.
“Akira, it’s me.”
There was a soft click and the door creaked open, with a black head of curls popping out along with it.
“Bubbly, you gotta take a shower so I can make dinner.”
She nodded. “How much time to I have?”
He gave her a weak smile. “You have…” he looked at the clock on the wall, clicking his mouth.
“Fifty minutes at most, go ahead. Make sure you lock that door, don’t even let me in.”
Her intelligent green eyes blinked at him with determination.
“I got it. Go, before daddy gets mad.”
He patted her head as she walked by in the direction of the bathroom, before going downstairs—struggling to even do that. He kept his cries internal, because if Danjiro heard them he would accuse him of flaunting himself around.
That always made Denki feel gross, because he swears he's not doing it on purpose. He really wasn't.
They ate their Unadon in silence that night, just like every night. Talking was forbidden, Denki had gotten himself in trouble multiple times due to this rule.
Even with Methylphenidate , being a constant talker was something he couldn’t control. Methylphenidate is his medicine by the way, it helps with ADHD.
Being a Chatterbox was his literal personality. They say quirks were apart of peoples personalities, sometimes Denki believed that to be true…-sometimes.
Like, take Bakugou—for example. His quirk was explosions, he was explosive.
Denki’s quirk was electrification, and he was energetic.
He can understand that.
But, Danjiro has the same quirk, and he was nothing like Denki. It was two sides to the same coin; a lot like Schrödinger’s cat, Denki thought.
But also a lot different.
Perhaps he could’ve been when he was young? It would make sense.
But did that mean that Denki would grow up to be just like him? That’d be horrible!
But then again, Denki wasn’t planning on getting a wife, then having two kids with said wife, then having an accident and loosing his wife, then taking it out of his eldest son, and wanted to bring his youngest daughter into it.
ugg.
Denki didn’t plan on getting a wife to begin with, Maybe get with that hot purple headed guy they just got in their class.
Denki woke up, unfortunately. So he got up and opened his door, coaxing his sister awake and to get ready for school. He made them toast and took his pill—then they walked to school.
Her elementary school was on the way to UA, so he wouldn’t be late. Denki couldn’t believe she was already in the fifth grade, it was crazy. He remembers when she was born.
Stop thinking about that.
Denki covered the welts on his wrists as much as he could, but there was still a purplish tone to his pale skin, it was just gonna have to do.
He couldn’t do anything about his busted lip, so that’s that.
Opening the big 1-A door, he stepped into the familiar sight of the chaotic class.
He sat in his desk by the self proclaimed Bakusquad and started animatedly talking with Sero and Mina.
He couldn’t actually remember the topic. Maybe it was Twitter drama, maybe it was anime, maybe—it was how hot he thought Megan Fox was.
Maybe it was teasing Kirishima about Bakugou, maybe it was teasing Kaminari about Shinsou, maybe it was teasing Ashido about Hagakure.
Maybe it was talking about about how Kirishima and Kaminari couldn’t flirt to save their lives, maybe it was a mix of all of the above.
Maybe that would explain why he couldn’t remember.
Aizawa Sensei was sleeping on the floor, so they had a free period—and Denki kept having to resist the urge to just poke their teachers exposed face.
lmao
-
After Ectoplasms class, Denki hurriedly went to his locker, grabbed his backpack, and left without a trace.
His friends didn’t even get to see him off.
He had to go back pick his sister up from school, and he couldn’t be late home either.
Once his sister was picked up, they headed home, three-thirty on the dot, why three-thirty—you may be asking yourself.
Well you see besties, when you go to highschool, your schedule completely changes. School begins at 7:45 and ends at 2:45.
Elementary ended at 3:00, so they’d logically be home sometime around 3:30 or before then.
Why—you also may be asking, nobody knows why they change the schedule.
It made sense to Denki, and he had no idea how. To him, it just fit.
His sister took a shower while he cleaned up. She helped him make dinner.
Him, Akira, and his father ate at the table in silence. When dinner was over, he collected the dishes and washed them in the only way he could.
You may be asking yourself—what do you mean by that. I’ll fucking explain it to you.
You see, when you—a neurodivergent individual—has ADHD, you do things in a very different way that neurotypical people may do.
For Denki, washing dishes only made sense to him if he did everything that wasn’t a pot or a pan first.
To him, if he put the pots an pans in the dish water it would take up too much time, and it just wouldn’t fit.
Same with doing laundry, some things just had to be folded last. Time consuming and Denki are not a good fit for eachother.
He had almost been successful with making it through the entire day without getting punished.
Almost.
He had dropped a glass.
“motherfucker,” he had cursed, and he let his hand run through his hair, tilting his head upwards and closing his eyes.
“ oh my fucking god bro, are you serious right now?” He whispered to himself.
fucking butter fingers.
He heard his dad stomp down the stairs and he hurriedly tried to pick it up, apologizing over and over again—trying to save his ass.