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Don't mind this.

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𝔓𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰

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Izuku's POV:-

From the day I was born, I believed the world was beautiful. Not in the way stories describe it, but in the way I experienced it— soft, warm, and certain. I had a family I thought would always remain whole. A father I saw often, a presence I trusted without question. A mother who stayed beside me like a constant light, loving me without conditions. And brothers I admired… people I believed were strong, kind, and unshakably good.

My life was filled with that belief. Happiness did not feel fragile back then. It felt natural, like it could never be taken away. But that illusion did not last.

A single truth was enough to shatter everything I knew.

My father, Hisashi Midoriya—the man I called my father—was not just a kind presence in my life. To the world, he was something else entirely. All For One. A name that carried fear, destruction, and power beyond reason. The realization did not come gently. It tore through everything I understood about him, rewriting every memory I had ever trusted.

My adopted brother, Tomura Midoriya, was someone I once believed to be kind and strong in his own way. Someone I thought stood beside me because he wanted to. But he was never truly free. He was a puppet, bound to my father’s will, used as nothing more than a tool for his purposes, his choices never truly his own.

My second brother, Dabi, was not even truly adopted in the way I once believed mattered. But to me, he was still family. That was enough for me to trust him, to care for him without hesitation. Yet he, too, lived under the same shadow. Used. Controlled. Treated as nothing more than something to be pointed and directed, rather than someone to be loved. And outside of me, he had never truly received anything resembling warmth.

And my mother… Inko Midoriya… she was the kindest part of my world. The only person who ever looked at me and chose honesty over comfort. She was the one who revealed the truth to me, the one who broke the lie I had been living inside. She never stopped loving me, even when everything began to fall apart. And because she spoke the truth—because she said something my father never wanted me to hear, something he never wished his “beloved son” would discover—she was killed by him.

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At that time, I was in my first year of middle school. I remember being in my room, watching a recorded battle that had taken place five years earlier between All Might and All For One—my father. The destruction captured in that footage was beyond anything I could easily understand. Cities torn apart, lives erased in moments, power clashing like the world itself was breaking apart. And the longer I watched, the harder it became to ignore the truth forming inside me. The man I called my father was not just part of that history… he was the reason it existed.

Something in my chest tightened as I kept watching, an uneasy weight settling where certainty used to be. But before that feeling could fully take shape, a scream echoed through the house. It wasn’t distant or unclear. It was sharp, real, and full of pain, cutting straight through everything I was thinking.

I ran out of my room and into the hallway without thinking, my steps faster than my thoughts, my mind refusing to accept whatever I was about to see. But when I reached the hall, everything stopped. My mother was on the floor. She wasn’t moving.

There was so much blood around her that the sight didn’t feel real at first, like my mind was refusing to process the shape of what was in front of me. My body froze completely, caught between understanding and denial, unable to do anything except stare.

And then I saw him. My father was standing there. Smiling, as if the world had not just ended in front of me.

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I remember being bullied by Kacchan throughout middle school. His words were always sharp enough to cut deep, cruel enough to make anyone lose control eventually. He mocked me constantly, pushed at every weakness he could find, and never stopped no matter how silent I remained. But no matter what he said, I never reacted the way people expected me to. Maybe it was because, by then, I no longer understood why I was still alive in the first place. My mother was dead, the world I had once believed in had collapsed, and every truth I had trusted had turned into a lie. Compared to that, words no longer felt powerful enough to truly hurt me.

And somewhere deep down, I always understood him. Katsuki Bakugo—Kacchan—my childhood friend. He was loud, obsessive, and impossible to ignore, but I knew his actions were never as simple as they appeared. He wanted me to break. Not to destroy me, but to force me to fight back, to stand up, to react to something instead of remaining trapped in my own emptiness. In his own twisted way, he was trying to drag me back to life.

But while Kacchan himself never physically hurt me, the others did. There was one day when he was absent, and without him there, the rest of the class became bolder than usual. Their insults turned physical quickly, pushing and striking me as if they were trying to provoke something out of a corpse. And maybe they succeeded. Because that day, something inside me finally snapped.

I do not remember the exact moment I lost control. I only remember blood. Their screams. The feeling of my hands shaking as I kept going long after they had stopped fighting back. By the time it ended, the classroom no longer looked familiar.

And standing at the doorway was Kacchan. He stared at the scene in silence, surprise clear in his eyes for only a brief moment before something else replaced it. A smile slowly appeared on his face, one filled with satisfaction… and something far darker lurking beneath it.

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The only thing I had believed to be undeniably true turned out to be another lie. I was never quirkless. The weakness I had accepted for years, the pitying looks, the whispers, the diagnosis that shaped my entire life—none of it had been real. My brothers, unable to endure my hatred any longer, finally confessed everything to me. The truth they revealed shattered whatever remained of the person I used to be.

I had been born with a quirk.

It had been stolen from me.

Kyudai Garaki, the doctor who had once declared me quirkless, had never been an ordinary doctor at all. He had been working for my father from the very beginning, carrying out his orders while smiling calmly in front of innocent people. My quirk had been taken before I was even old enough to understand what had been stolen from me.

And this… is the story of how I took back what belonged to me.

And how, somewhere along the way, I fell for Kacchan and Todoroki.

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"𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔬𝔨𝔞 𝔊𝔦𝔶𝔲𝔲"

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Giyuu Tomioka could not remember his parents. Not their voices, not their faces, not even the warmth of their hands. By the time he was old enough to understand the world around him, they were already gone, leaving him behind with only his older sister as proof that he had once belonged somewhere. And then she died too.

After that, the world became cruel quickly.

People called him unstable, broken, cursed by misfortune itself. The relatives who took him in after his sister’s death never truly cared for him either. To them, he was nothing more than something valuable enough to sell. The moment Giyuu learned they intended to hand him over to a greedy old man, he ran without looking back, escaping into a world far more dangerous than the one he left behind.

And somewhere between fear, exhaustion, and the cold darkness of the forest, someone saved him.

The years that followed should have been peaceful. Instead, they became another chain of painful beginnings and almost unbearable endings. A boy wearing a fox mask sacrificed himself during Final Selection to protect others and was believed to be dead by everyone left behind. A wounded stranger with bandages wrapped around his mouth slowly fell in love with the kindness Giyuu offered him so naturally, unable to understand why someone could look at his scars without disgust. And later, after becoming a Hashira, Giyuu unknowingly drew the attention of two people as dangerous as fire itself—Kyojuro Rengoku, whose warmth burned brighter than the sun, and Sanemi Shinazugawa, whose violence concealed emotions far uglier and far deeper than anger alone.

Yet none of them realized that Giyuu himself was quietly falling apart.

Because no matter how many times he reached for happiness, death always followed behind him. His parents. His sister. The people who became important to him. One after another, they disappeared as if something in this world refused to allow Giyuu Tomioka to keep anyone beside him for long.

At first, he believed it was coincidence. Then fate. Then punishment.

Until eventually, fear became truth. Because Giyuu Tomioka was not normal.

Hidden beneath his body existed something terrifying enough to twist human desire into obsession itself. Strength beyond human limits. Healing capable of defying death. Blood that could return humanity to demons and grant immortality to humans. A blessing powerful enough to become a curse the moment the world learned it existed.

And the worst part of all was that suppressing those powers was slowly killing him.

So Giyuu began believing the reason people stayed beside him was because of what flowed through his veins. Not because they cared for him, but because they desired what he could give them.

But he was wrong.

Because Sabito never searched years for him because of immortality. Obanai Iguro did not fall in love with him because of his blood. Kyojuro Rengoku did not look at him with such unbearable warmth because of his healing abilities. And Sanemi Shinazugawa’s violent obsession had never once been about power.

They wanted him. His quiet kindness. His smile. His existence.

And perhaps that truth was far more dangerous than any curse hidden within his blood.

Because love, when mixed with obsession, had always been capable of becoming something monstrous.

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