Chapter Text
One could say that Izuku knew Bakugou Katsuki like the back of his hand. They wouldn't be wrong, but that statement usually comes with a certain connotation to it. It’s your own hand. You should know it well. Izuku knew Bakugou Katsuki like the back of his hand.
Once, Izuku could picture his hand in an instant. Once, Izuku knew exactly what Kacchan would say. But then his hand was scarred from red hot blisters, then his friend was marred by red hot rage. He could make out most of his hand. He knew what Katsuki was feeling. That was before his skin had burnt red marks. That was before his classmate had blasted him gleefully. He could only remember the shape, and the size of his hand. He knew when Bakugou was mad. It continued to grow, and he stopped wanting to look at it. His bully continued to mar his skin, and he stopped wanting to be near him.
Izuku knew Bakugou Katsuki like the back of his hand. Once, he knew it well. But now, he couldn't even begin to describe it. That is to say, Izuku didn't know the back of his hand.
Izuku didn't know Bakugou Katsuki.
-(o)-
At 15 years old, Izuku wanted nothing more than to be a hero. No different from 14, or 13 or earlier. The only thing that changed, he supposed, was that the people around him were less willing to let him dream. It was career day at Aldera Middle School. Everyone was putting down what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go to college. What job they wanted. Izuku wanted nothing more than to be a hero, and everyone already knew it. What harm could writing it down be?
Quite a bit, as it would turn out. Mr. Sugimoto wasn't content to let Izuku dream. He never had, Izuku didn't know why he even bothered thinking this time would be any different. “Ah, I see Midoriya also wants to attend UA’s Hero course.” His words alone could be taken as little more than an observation. The tone as he said it with though, the mocking scoff afterwards, the meaningful look he sent Bakugou. They all told a different story. He moved on quickly, but Izuku wasn't stupid enough to think it was over.
The rest of class was a blur. All through it, Izuku failed to concentrate. He could feel the burning stare digging into the back of his neck. As Mr Sugimoto was wrapping up class, their final one for the day, he suddenly turned to look at Izuku. “Midoriya, if you could stay behind after class?” Izuku’s stomach nearly leapt for joy, and in shock. The man was giving him an out! Maybe he had taken pity on him, or maybe he was going to get detention for trying to ‘rise above his station’ again. It didn't matter though. All that mattered was…
Was that Mr Sugimoto was packing up. Was that when the bell rang, and the students rushed out the door, Mr Sugimoto left with them. Was that it had been nothing but a trick to get him to stay behind. Was that his teacher was in on it, just like everyone else had turned a blind eye before.
A sweaty palm placed itself on Izuku’s shoulder. He didn't dare turn. He already knew who it was. “Deku.” A low, angry voice practically growled out. “I could've sworn we talked about this.” The hand lifted from his shoulder.
“I-I jus-”
The blast sent his head flying forwards, slamming into his desk. Izuku groaned, his hand reaching up to grab his nose, his eyes screwed shut in pain. The sound of a palm slapping against the plastic of Izuku's desk rang out through the classroom, which was otherwise silent, despite the pain Izuku was in. “Did I fucking say you could speak?”
Izuku opened his mouth to respond, but a warning crackle made him clench his jaw. He shook his head, eyes still closed.
“No, I fucking didn't. And yet, here you are, thinking you can do whatever the fuck you want.” Bakugou leaned in, Izuku could tell from the annoyed breathing getting closer. “Get it through your thick fucking skull. You are nothing. You have no worth, no value. You don't get to pick where you go to college, because a fucking waste like you won't be going to college. You are useless, and nothing will ever change that.”
Izuku tried to nod, tried to just agree with Bakugou, so that this could end. But as he opened his eyes, as he saw Bakugou’s triumphant smirk, his palm, inches from his jaw, Izuku found he couldn't. He wasn't worthless, he wouldn't just lie over and take it.
“I-I’m not.” He mumbled barely audible.
Instantly, Izuku knew he fucked up. Knew he would be paying for this in burnt skin, and yet another leaf of the poor Aloe Vera plant at home.
“What.” Bakugou grit out, practically in disbelief.
Izuku found he couldn't stop himself, even knowing what would come next. So instead of taking it quietly, he would rage back against it. “I’m Not Useless!” He yelled.
…
Nothing happened for a moment. For an instant, no one moved. When Bakugou finally snapped out of it, his response wasn't what Izuku had been expecting. He laughed.
“You're right.”
What? This wasn't… this wasn't what he was supposed to do. This wasn't Bakugou, this wasn't in the script! What was-
“There is one thing you're good for.”
Oh.
Katsuki smirked. Not one of confidence, not one of happiness. But one of barely concealed danger. A smirk that promised nothing but pain, nothing but pure malice. “You can get up.”
Izuku didn't move.
“I’ll let you walk out of the classroom right now. All you need to do is turn right, towards the staircase, and start heading up.”
Bakugou was-
“Open the door to the roof, and take your stupid fucking red shoes off.”
Bakugou you can't just-
“Walk over to the edge, and take just one more step.” Bakugou was staring at him now. Izuku was looking right through him. “I won't even mind if you pray for a quirk in your next life on the way down. My little treat to you. And when your body hits the ground, let's hope it’s in the flowerbeds. At least then, you can be used as fertilizer.” He scoffed. “Knowing you though, you’d manage to fuck that up too, wouldn't you?”
Izuku didn't cry. He couldn't. This wasn't something that he would just cry about and then act like nothing had happened. He felt something in him snap, something shatter in his very core. He tried to figure it out for a moment, trying to sort through the shards, to piece back together what had been lost.
Ah. It was his hope. That would make sense.
“I see you don't plan on taking me up on my offer. Well too bad. For you anyways. It would've been a whole lot less painful than this.” His world erupted into a bright white light, a sharp jolt backwards, and a deafeningly loud pop. And then, nothing.
-(o)-
When Izuku finally came to, he lifted his head up, feeling as his skin peeled off of the tile floor, having been pressed against it for so long. He blinked, thoughts swimming as the world came back into focus. As he sat up, he lightly bumped his head against the underside of a desk, wincing, and pressing a hand to it. Just his luck. His other hand moved up, feeling his nose. There was a trail of dried blood leading down from it, but it wasn't out of place, or broken, so he could count his blessings.
Shaking his head, Izuku groaned in pain. His mind was clearing up from the fogginess now, just leaving the dull throbbing of pain. His left cheek stung, likely bruised, and his temple felt as though something was crushing it with pressure. Nevertheless, Izuku got up from his seat, grabbing his books, and slowly making his way to his locker.
The walk home was quiet so far. It had been almost an hour since school had ended, and very few of the after school activities were scheduled for the day. Slowly, Izuku made his way home. In an effort to avoid Bakugou, he decided to take an underpass that cut around the blond’s neighborhood.
Izuku failed to notice as the sewer grate was slowly pushed upwards, a murky green slime seeping outwards, and replacing the grate. “A medium sized Invisibility cloak. Exactly what I needed.” A mocking, obnoxious voice called out behind Izuku. The green haired boy froze in his spot, turning around, eyes wide. An instant to see the sludge creature was all he had before it suddenly rushed forwards.
His body was enveloped by cold, and thick slime, disgusting sludge seeping over him. “Don't worry kid, I’ll make this quick!” The villain cackled, as he attempted to pry Izuku’s mouth open. This was singlehandedly the most disgustingly violating thing Izuku had ever felt. This thing was trying to shove itself into his body, to take control of his limbs and mouth, to use his animated corpse as a disguise. Izuku hated it. Hated the feeling of the cold sludge slowly pressing against his mouth, trying to pry it open. Hated the feeling of his arms, trapped in the liquid, unable to find purchase and move. Hated that as his vision went black, he almost wanted to die. If only to end this.
-(o)-
Izuku woke up, now the second time today that he’d passed out. “Young Man?” A voice said. Izuku flinched away, turning to stare in fear at the voice, before his eyes widened. This was t the sludge villain, this was All Might. “Young Man?”
“Y-yes All Might Sir?” Izuku managed to stutter out.
All Might smiled at him (Holy shit All Might!). “No need for that young man. I’m just trying to make sure you're okay. I’ve called the EMT’s, but seeing as you are awake, I thought I might check how you’re feeling myself.”
Izuku blinked in surprise. “I… I think-” as Izuku went to continue, he was cut off by a wet cough, his hand raised to his mouth, and coming away with specks of green sludge still on it. He grimaced, immediately attempting to cough the rest of it up, feeling disgusting that that thing had been in his lungs. After a moment, when nothing else came up, Izuku turned back to All Might. “I think I’m okay now.”
All Might smiled at him again. “Excellent. The EMTs will likely still check you just in case, but I’m glad to hear you are doing well.”
Izuku suddenly realized that he was standing in front of his hero. He opened his mouth to speak, but the events of earlier today came rushing back to him, and any energy he had vanished, his gaze turned to the floor, mouth hanging somewhat open, posture slightly slumped over. “My boy?” All Might questioned, hesitantly taking a step forwards, so as not to scare him.
Tears welled in Izuku’s eyes thinking of Bakugou’s words from earlier. He looked back upwards, staring All Might in the eyes, even as tears welled in his own. “All Might? I-Is someone without a quirk useless?” His tears began to drip down his face, as his voice cracked. “I’m not useless right? There has to be something I’m good at, something I can do to help people.” He paused, staring at All Might. “Right?” He said, unsure of himself.
All Might’s eyes widened, and slowly, he placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, crouching slightly down to eye level. “Young man, no one is ever useless. Quirks do not define what someone is or isn't capable of doing. Hard work is all that matters. If you are determined, If you feel it in your soul.” his other hand raised, pointing at him, lightly touching his chest. “So long as you feel it in your heart, there is nothing you cannot do. A lack of a quirk is not a lack of worth, young man, and you should never forget that.”
Izuku stared at All Might for a moment in shock. Before he even realized what he was doing, he had taken a step forward, burying his face in the man’s shirt, wrapping his arms around the hero and sobbing into him. Hesitantly, All Might slowly curled his arms around Izuku, lightly rubbing his back, comforting the kid who so desperately needed it. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
All Might didn't mind, not one bit. Fighting villains was what everyone knew heroes for, but moments like this were why he had gone into heroism in the first place. Saving a life is easy. Saving a soul is much harder.
-(o)-
It had been nearly 3 years since that day when Izuku had met All Might. 3 years since he had begun training himself, since he had gone to a different Highschool than Bakugou. In that time, he’d been training. All Might had said he could do anything. That included being a hero. But he wasn't stupid enough to try and be one on determination alone. So he had looked around, and finally found a gym that wouldn't just reject him for his quirklessness. The gym, Purple Pistons, was nearly a half hour walk the opposite direction from school to his house. It prided itself on its non discrimination policies. According to its owner, Nebaso Hyouka, who had a very prevalent Lion Mutation, he’d had rough experiences at other places for his quirk, and had decided to make a safe place himself.
Izuku had gotten help from a number of regulars his first few weeks there. He was a fairly familiar face nowadays, and he would occasionally strike up a conversation with some of the other patrons. That had helped with his confidence quite a bit. He no longer stuttered every time he spoke to someone new, and he wasn't ashamed of his interests anymore. For the first time in a long time, Izuku was comfortable being himself.
Now, nearly 2 and a half years after finding it, Izuku was walking home from the gym. It was around 6:45, when Izuku had left, and it would be about 30 more minutes until he was home. That was if everything went as normal. See, Purple Pistons wasn't in the best neighborhood. It was partially out of convenience, and partially because of community. Convenience, because it was cheaper. Community because if the people “at risk” of villainous behavior were given a place to calm themselves down, a place where they wouldn't be judged, maybe they wouldn't cross that line. As far as Izuku could tell, it worked at least somewhat. In the 7 years the gym had been open, crime rates in the area had decreased by about 5%. It wasn't astounding, but considering there were barely any hero patrols, and nearly all of those 5% less would have been violent crimes, it was something.
Back to the issue at hand though. Izuku was about 15 minutes into the walk, and half an hour to home, when he heard a groan from an alleyway. Izuku wasn't stupid. Alleyways around here weren't generally somewhere 18, almost 19 years old's wanted to be, unless they were buying drugs. But it sounded like the man was hurt. So, despite every logical instinct telling him to keep walking, Izuku turned down the alleyway. He found the cause of the groaning fairly quickly. A man was slumped against the brick wall of a building. His hair was messy, and though short, it was obviously self cut. Poorly at that. He had an untrimmed beard, patches much shorter than other parts. His clothes were all wrinkled, and covered in grime.
What most got Izuku’s attention was the single rolled up sleeve of the man, and the empty needle laying on the alley floor next to him. Obviously some type of drug. The man continued to groan in what sounded like pain. Chances were this person had overdosed. Quickly, Izuku pulled out his phone, checking his location for reference, before calling 119.
“Hello, this is 119, what is the emergency?”
Izuku was slightly nervous, and his stutter had returned, though only slightly. “U-um, I’m currently in an alleyway with another guy, and I’m pretty sure he’s overdosing on something.”
“Alright, do you know the location?”
“Y-yes, it's on Nikosan Road, in between Lorona, and Ridono streets. The alley on the east side.”
The operator took a moment, before responding. “Alright, I have an ambulance on the way, can you tell me why you think this man is overdosing?”
“He’s groaning like he’s in pain, and is unresponsive. One of his sleeves is also rolled up, and there’s a needle on the floor next to him.” Izuku looked around a bit. “T-there's actually a couple needles around the alley, so it might just be coincidence, but the sleeve and how close it is seems pretty obvious.”
“Alright,” the operator paused again, before continuing. “Can I get your name for our record?”
“U-uh… Midoriya Izuku.”
“Alright. Midoriya, would you be willing to stay there, and on the line until the EMT’s arrive?”
“Y-yeah, I can do that.”
The man groaned again, and his head moved, turning slightly towards Izuku. Immediately he crouched, trying to look the man in the eye. “Sir? Sir are you alright?”
“Is something going on Midoriya?”
“He just moved his head, I wasn't sure if he was responding or not.”
“Okay, be careful. We don't know what he’s overdosed on, or if that is even what’s occurred. There's no need to get yourself hurt trying to help him.”
“I-I’ll try.”
The man looked up suddenly, locking eyes with Izuku. Something was seriously wrong with him. His eyes appeared as if they were fogged over. His iris was covered in a milky white color, only barely different from his sclera. Izuku found himself gasping involuntarily. Then the man’s mouth opened, his tongue sticking slightly out of it. It appeared purple, almost black, and Izuku nearly jumped backwards in shock. He wasn't able to, however, as the man suddenly lunged forwards, an emaciated arm wrapping around his ankle, as the man continued to stare at him with the glassy look.
The second his finger touched Izuku’s skin, his mind was flooded with sensations. Blinding lights, Oppressive darkness, and vibrant colors. The pain of bruises, and the scent of fresh food. The sour taste of spoiled milk, the calming sounds of birds chirping. Hundreds of experiences all collapsed in on each other, all flooding his mind at once. A dark room, barely illuminated by a single lamp. A bright summer sun, only barely blocked out by the curtains. A world of colors, and yet stripped of all saturation to them. Bruises that one kept poking for the half painful, half pleasurable sting. A fresh meal, but the vinegar stung his nose just a bit too much. The acidic sting of a sour candy, giving way to the sweet core. Birds chirping quietly, a calm scene, ruined by the loud cityscape around him.
And then nothing.
Slowly, ever so slowly, as time seemed to drag on and on and on and on and on and-
The world came back.
The dimly lit alleyway had returned. His phone laid on the concrete next to him, thankfully not broken. The man’s hand was still wrapped around his ankle, his face still staring at Izuku’s. But something was different. Terrified, Izuku yanked his leg back, the man’s arm being pulled with it for only a moment before his leg slipped away. The man fell to the floor, no longer staring at Izuku. No longer making any movement. No longer groaning in pain.
No longer alive.
-(o)-
Izuku was trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours. Izuku had responded back to the Operator, still thankfully on the phone, and the EMT’s arrived not long after. He had been checked out, due to his still shell shocked state. The EMT’s brought him to the hospital as a precaution. He rode in the back, next to a blue bag. He wanted to cry the entire time, but found himself too numb to even think.
As it turns out, the man had died from a Trigger overdose. One of the symptoms of such was a blackening of the tongue, and the glassy eyes. Apparently as the drug forced the quirk center to begin cannibalizing the rest of the brain, the Immune system began to designate the eyes, and the tongue as threats, and quickly began to attack them. It was brutal, and disgusting. Trigger was banned, not only due to its danger in the hands of villains, but also for its highly addictive effects, and low overdose threshold.
As per protocol, Izuku was cleared at the hospital. He had to wait there, alongside his mom, who was contacted shortly after the EMT’s arrived, until they got an ID on the man, so they could find out his quirk. After about a half hour, they figured it out. Hanamura Miyoko, who’s quirk was Mind Link. It normally allowed him to share thoughts and senses with someone else, or between two other people. Judging from the number of random sensations Izuku had experienced at once, the doctors thought it likely that Trigger had allowed the man to send memories down the line. The effects of the quirk seemed to end when Izuku had pulled his leg away. As such, he was able to be discharged. The staff did inform them that lingering effects may be possible, so certain memories, or random sensations may occur for the near future. If anything worse happened, he was to return to the hospital.
Izuku didn't talk much that night, electing to go to bed early, wanting to rest after the exhausting day. His mom wished him a goodnight, as he entered his room. He quickly took off his clothes, throwing on a tank top, and some shorts, before collapsing on his bed, barely managing to get himself under the covers before he was out.
-(o)-
Izuku woke up to an odd alarm. His phone was ringing with a different sound than his normal All Might Alarm Clock. He pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and turning to the desk to turn off the alarm on his phone. As soon as the alarm was off, Izuku turned to lay back down in his bed, electing to sleep in today, considering it was a weekend, and he had had a stressful night. He pulled the blanket back over him, and closed his eyes, ready to drift back to sleep.
Except… his phone had an All Might case. This one had just been a Silver phone, no case in sight. And hadn't he gone to bed with a shirt on?
Izuku shot up, eyes wide as he took in the room. This wasn't his room. The blanket was navy blue, the window was in front of him, rather than to his right. The desk was off to the left of the room, and not across the room from him. The walls were bare, rather than littered with hero posters of All Might.
Slowly, Izuku turned to look down at himself. At his slightly less muscled chest, unmarred by burnt skin. He held his hands out, the familiar, and yet nearly impossible to remember burns gone, replaced by skin unworn from explosions. Perhaps the most shocking though, was the Tattoo on the inside of his left wrist.
Five playing cards lay spread out. A Jack, Queen, King, and Ace, all Spades, took the left and right two. The middle, at the top of all of them was the last card, simply having two laughing jester icons in the corners, indicating the joker, but otherwise blank., unlike every other Joker Izuku had seen. Around the cards, a black feather sat below them reflected in an elegant Mirror. It was a beautiful tattoo, masterfully done, and obviously holding some significance.
But Izuku didn't have tattoos. And the junkie, his left wrist had been visible the entire time, no tattoos to be seen, and certainly not this well done. Whatever had happened, Izuku was somehow in some random person’s body.