My hero academia:Am I worthy?

In Izuku's field of vision appeared the figure of a police officer standing tall. He looked at the child, holding a file with documents, not knowing how to say that his mother had died in the most brutal way. His thoughts were interrupted by the boy's awkward greeting.

— H... Hello, Mr. P... P... Policeman, — Izuku replied, holding a cake with a burning candle. Seeing such a sad picture, the fact that he had not waited for his mother tormented him, as what he would hear could change his life forever, but only for the worse.

— May I come in? — the officer asked dryly, feeling how his mouth was dry. He didn't want to be in this place, especially to say such things to a child who didn't know what awaited him.

— Yes, c... come in, — Izuku hesitated, not knowing whether he should let a stranger in, but decided that he shouldn't play games, especially in front of a policeman who was as serious as could be.

— Thank you, — the officer headed to the table, settling in comfortably, as did Izuku. The atmosphere was extremely tense; the policeman did not smile, his face expressed a gloomy mood, directly indicating that he was not here to joke. Izuku decided to speak first.

— Uh, sir, do you need anything? Water or refreshments? — Izuku asked politely, trying not to upset him, but this only caused a fleeting smile.

— Thank you, young man, I appreciate your hospitality, but I must decline. — The tone was serious, and Izuku understood that he would be told some unpleasant news, and that scared him.

— What about my mom? Is she okay? — the boy asked, clutching the edge of his shirt, nervous about the upcoming answer.

— I'm sorry to say this, especially to you, but forgive me if I do. — Just a second passed before he delivered the terrible news, he fell silent, and his lips began to twitch. All this time for Izuku passed in slow motion, expecting good news, but what he heard next...

— Your mother, Midoriya Inko, is dead... I'm sorry, — he said the last two words in a whisper, lowering his head so as not to see his tearful face. But what surprised him most was that Izuku showed no emotion; his expression was shocked, but he did not cry. He stood there, staring at the police officer. Such a reaction chilled the officer's blood. He was only an eleven-year-old child, but what had he experienced that made him react so calmly to his mother's death?

— How and who was it? — the boy asked coldly, while his shell began to crack. Emotions were surfacing, but he held them back. The officer noticed how the boy's eyes began to glisten in the light of the lamps.

— It was a murder. The killer's name is Senku Saki. Here, look at his file and the photo. — Taking the photo out of the folder, Izuku saw his vile face with teeth. The blood in his body began to heat up, his fists clenched, and his mind desired only one thing.

"Punish the criminal in the most brutal way."

They talked until a police officer's urgent call interrupted the dialogue, and he had to leave, leaving the boy alone with the photo of his mother's killer. The officer headed to the car, where his partner was already waiting for him.

— How did it go? — the partner asked.

— Much better than I expected, but the child was too cold, and I sincerely felt sorry for him, — Masato replied, looking at the steering wheel and fidgeting with his hands.

— It's truly unusual. When you tell adults such news, it leads to grief, hysteria, anger, curses, and endless tears. Did he not cry or show any emotion at all? — asked the walking lie detector who had solved many crimes, but had gone on to train cadets in police work as a senior mentor.

— No, when I told him about his mother's death, he just shed a few tears, but otherwise, he didn't cry and held back his emotions despite being hurt by the news.

— Strong boy, — Tsukauchi was surprised by such a strong teenager, though he understood him, but he could do nothing about it and just nodded to his partner.

— So, do we have information about him? — the junior officer asked. The senior officer just nodded, taking out a tablet and looking at the teenager.

— So, here's what we have:

Name: Izuku

Surname: Midoriya

Quirk: None

Notes: Due to a genetic mutation, he is unable to awaken a Quirk and will remain Quirkless for life.

Blood type: Special

Note: Due to the genetic mutation associated with Quirklessness, he can become a universal donor for every blood type, but foreign blood will not suit him, making him special.

Mother: Inko Midoriya

Father: Hisashi Midoriya.

Reading the rest of the dossier, Tsukauchi was increasingly amazed by the teenager. His partner interrupted the engrossing process of reading with a comment.

— Yeah, the kid was unlucky to be born like this. It's a pity he'll have to live out his last days, — he replied with sadness in his voice, understanding that he might either die by taking his own life or be forced to live out his last days in loneliness. Tsukauchi didn't like his partner's thoughts and decided to respond to such a comment.

— Don't say that. Even though he is Quirkless, I hope he has people close to him who will support him. If he's worth anything, it's his moral duty to do so. He's a good boy, but he needs to be alone, — Tsukauchi was always known for his optimism among colleagues, especially when he was friends with hero number two, All Might, who was known for his kind-hearted character, unlike Endeavor.

— Sir, I understand that you're an optimist. But I suggest looking at reality. You know what the situation is like with the Quirkless, especially with Re-Destro, and knowing this, you should understand what state he's in, considering he's just a schoolboy. — Tsukauchi, though understanding his partner's words, decided not to respond and just ordered the subordinate to drive to the station.

****

The door closed behind the police officer with a dry click, echoing off the apartment walls. Izuku stood in the hallway, looking at the spot where the stranger in uniform had just been, as if trying to convince himself that it was just a nightmare that would fade if he woke up right now.

But the silence filling the room was deafening. It seemed to press down, creeping into every cell of his body.

The police officer had left, leaving behind only heavy words: "Your mother was found dead. She was killed by a man we've been searching for several months." These phrases echoed in Izuku's mind like a broken record, over and over, with each repetition causing more pain.

He barely took a step forward, as if his legs had turned to lead. Another step. He reached the couch in the living room and collapsed onto it, clutching his head with his hands.

At first, there were only rare sobs. Then — wild cries that seemed endless. He felt something inside him crumbling. The world he lived in had always been harsh, but now it had completely lost its meaning.

"Why? Why her?" — he repeated aloud, his voice breaking into a scream. The question, left unanswered, tore his soul apart. His mother was the kindest person he knew. She deserved everything good, but received... death at the hands of a maniac.

Izuku clenched his fists until his fingers hurt. Anger mixed with helplessness. He wanted to do something, to punish someone, to fix this unjust world, but he was powerless. His cries filled the room, but no one heard. No one could come and say that everything would be okay.

The days after the tragedy stretched like an endless series of gray, monotonous moments. Izuku avoided people. His once lively, curious nature seemed to have evaporated. He withdrew into himself, becoming a shell devoid of the spark of life.

Every time he passed by photographs of his mother, he felt his heart constrict. Her smile, captured in the pictures, now seemed like a ghost of the past that could never be returned.

The first weeks after her death, he hardly spoke. When someone tried to talk to him, he responded in monosyllables or just nodded. His mind refused to accept reality.

Over time, grief began to transform. Replacing the sharp pain came feelings of guilt and hatred — towards himself and the killer.

"If only I had been there... If only I had been stronger... If only I could have protected her..." — these thoughts haunted him every night.

The trauma did not let go. It manifested in every aspect of his life. He began to avoid darkness, fearing a monster from the shadows would appear, the one who took his mother.

Years passed, and Izuku learned to hide his emotions. People around him thought he had coped. But inside, there remained a void that nothing could fill.

He became withdrawn. He was afraid to form attachments, afraid to lose someone else.

In his dreams, the same scene played out over and over: his mother screamed, called for help, and he stood motionless, unable to do anything. Sometimes he woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, afraid to fall asleep again.

Every time he heard about someone's death, especially a violent one, he was overwhelmed with horror. He instinctively clenched his fists to hide the trembling, but inside he felt his soul tearing apart. But he would have only dealt with grief if it weren't for his Quirklessness, which cursed him in life.

****

— Hey, Deku, where's your mom? Oh, sorry for asking, because now you don't have a skirt to hide under, hahaha, — Katsuo, a bully with iron fists, had no idea what he was going through. He never showed any mercy towards Izuku. He and his gang of lackeys, led by Katsuki, after his mother's complaint to the principal and the bully's parents, turned on him with even greater force. The first week they remained silent, said nothing, but as soon as his mother died, rumors quickly spread around the area like wildfire. Now they could bully him without consequences, as he had no protection anymore, and his father was far away and could do nothing to help him besides providing money. The catalyst for aggression towards Izuku was not his mother's death, but the tests and sports standards conducted for the physical parameters of the students.

****

— So, students, today in physical education class, we will measure your physical indicators for the year. But with the main condition that you will not use your Quirks. Is that clear to everyone? — the physical education teacher asked his students, but one of them raised his hand, looking at Izuku and pointing at him.

— Teacher, does this not apply to Deku? He can't do anything at all, — Katsuo replied, laughing at his own question, which was picked up by the sycophants, laughing at him and pointing fingers at him. Izuku remained silent and sat, taking all the insults to himself. He looked at his teacher, who looked at him with a frown, followed by silence.

— If everyone is ready, then I ask everyone to go to the locker room, — everyone began gathering their textbooks and getting ready. Izuku wanted to be one of the first to get to the locker room and be ready for the standards, but the teacher was the first to leave, leaving behind the students who were getting ready to leave the classroom. As Izuku's shoulder was touched by someone, he nervously turned his head and met the gaze of Katsuki, who glared at him with his eyes.

— We need to talk, Deku, — Katsuki said with bile in his voice. Midoriya couldn't refuse; refusal meant even worse consequences for him.

— Wh... what h... happened, Kacchan? — Midoriya asked with panic and stammering, looking at him and his henchmen standing behind him.

— How many times do I have to tell you not to call me by that stupid name, damn Deku! — his hands began to demonstratively clench, showing strength, scaring him to the core. Katsuki's friends began laughing at the situation and what would happen to him, barely holding back their laughter.

— Shake my hand. — Izuku realized it was a trap for a fool and decided to leave as quickly as possible, turning his back on him, but the path to the exit of the classroom was filled by his lackeys.

— Where are you going, Deku? Don't you respect your good old friend? Why don't you shake his hand? Maybe we'll all stop mocking you, what do you think? — It was a trap for a fool. Izuku tried to pass, but they wouldn't let him, and he had to turn his head, meeting his gaze.

Izuku looked at him, understanding he had no choice. Refusal meant bringing even more ridicule, even more bullying. Bakugo extended his hand, on which bright red sparks were already visible, as if a fire was slowly igniting from within. The heat was noticeable even from a distance.

— Kacchan, your hand... — Izuku muttered, but his voice was drowned out by the loud laughter of the lackeys.

— What's your mumbling about? Scared? It's just a handshake, — Bakugo mockingly said, stepping closer.

Pushed by the weight of the surrounding stares, Izuku slowly raised his hand. It trembled slightly. He felt Bakugo's warmth scorch his skin even before their palms touched.

When the hands collided, Bakugo's scorching skin seemed to pierce him with a sharp blade of heat. But the real blow came when Bakugo suddenly applied his other hand on top, squeezing his palm in the grip of fire. Izuku felt the pain explode in a wave, so intense that it took his breath away.

— So, Deku? — Katsuki spoke, looking him directly in the eyes. His voice was challenging, but there was a clear malicious joy in it. — You wanted to be a hero, right? Endure it. Real heroes always endure pain.

The lackeys burst out laughing, as if what was happening was the funniest thing they had ever seen in their lives. And Izuku stood, clenching his teeth, trying not to scream. He felt the skin of his palm heat up more and more, and knew that once he let go, there would be a red mark, possibly even a burn.

When Katsuki finally released his hands, Izuku barely managed to pull his palm away, breathing heavily. His fingers trembled, but he did not allow himself to look at the burn. He barely raised his gaze and met Bakugo's eyes.

— You're a weakling, Deku, — Katsuki said with the same icy smirk. — You can't even shake hands properly.

Izuku remained silent. It hurt, it was humiliating, but somewhere deep inside him, a faint spark of determination was born. He couldn't let this moment be just another episode of bullying. But what happened next was beyond words.

— Come on, don't judge him so harshly, Bakugo. Even his mother couldn't stand living with a son like him, — only one thing could drive Izuku to the edge — mentioning his mother in a negative light. His heart beat faster, the burned palm clenched into a fist, looking at Katsuo and Bakugo, who laughed at him and his mother. These words struck Izuku's heart with such force that he could barely breathe. Mom. The only person who was on his side, who loved him for who he was, despite his Quirklessness. Her name, her memory — all of it turned into an object of ridicule. Blinded by anger, he didn't notice the physical education teacher standing in the doorway.

— SHUT UP!!! — the boy shouted, hitting Katsuo in the face, causing him to stagger but regain his balance. Wiping away the spit, he saw Midoriya pouncing on Bakugo, who blocked his feeble attempts at attack. But Midoriya's victorious march was interrupted by the teacher.

— Midoriya, to the principal's office, now! — the teacher said, pointing his finger at the hallway. The teacher's words didn't convince him but only made him angrier, and he struck Bakugo in the eye, but the second punch was blocked by Katsuo with his hand.

— And you call that a punch? — Grabbing his hand, he pulled him away, activating his Quirk, Iron Fists. Bending his arm, causing Izuku pain, he punched him in the solar plexus with an iron fist, knocking the wind out of him along with the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth. The coach stood by but thanked Katsuo for a job well done.

— That's what I call a punch, Deku, — Katsuo said, grabbing and squeezing his hair, lifting his head to meet his closed eyes from the pain. He released his hair with force, slamming his head to the ground.

— You're dead, Deku, — Bakugo said, leaving the classroom. The trainer didn't touch the rest of the conflict instigators, but he decided to send Izuku to the principal's office.

After Izuku reached the principal's office, his legs felt as if filled with lead. The corridor was silent, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. He knew he had acted wrongly. He knew he shouldn't have let his emotions take over. But even realizing this, the pain and anger continued to boil inside.

The door to the office opened with a heavy creak. Behind the desk sat the principal, a short man with a neat gray beard and piercing eyes that seemed to see through a person. He set aside his pen and looked up at Izuku.

— Come in, Midoriya, sit down, — his voice was calm but cold.

Izuku slowly walked in and sat on the chair opposite. He lowered his gaze, trying not to meet the principal's eyes.

— I heard about what you did in the school yard. You beat up your classmates.

— That's... — Izuku began, but his voice faltered. He clenched his fists on his knees. — They insulted my mother...

— That's no excuse, — the principal interrupted. His voice carried steel and disappointment. — No matter how painful their words were, violence is never the solution.

— But... — Izuku raised his eyes, in his gaze was pain, almost despair. — They deserved it. They said such things... about her.

— Midoriya, — the principal's voice softened, but it didn't lose its firmness, — I understand how you feel right now. Losing a loved one is a terrible tragedy. But does that make your behavior acceptable? You beat up Katsuo and Bakugo. They couldn't respond to you because you attacked them in a rage. Do you think your mother would be proud of you for this?

These words struck harder than any of the looks Izuku had encountered on his way here. He lowered his head again, tears beginning to fill his eyes.

— No... — he whispered.

The principal sighed, leaning back in his chair.

— You're a good boy, Izuku. You have a kind heart. But today you made a mistake, and you will have to answer for it.

Izuku struggled to hold back his tears as the principal continued:

— As punishment, you will stay after school every day for a week to help the janitor clean the floors in the corridors and the gym. I want you to have time to think about your behavior.

These words sounded like a sentence. Cleaning floors wasn't something terrible. But knowing he would do it under the eyes of classmates who would know about the incident was unbearable.

— You may go, — the principal said, pointing to the door.

Izuku slowly stood up.

— Try to correct your behavior, Midoriya. You can be a hero, but only if you can manage your emotions.

Izuku didn't respond. He left the office, feeling as if everything inside was turning upside down. Now he had to endure the consequences of his actions. But was it worth it?

The question echoed in his head, but there was no answer.

After the principal's office, he went to the locker room where he was alone. Slowly changing, feeling the pain in his stomach from one of his classmates' punches and the burn from Bakugo, which still hurt. He wrapped his wrist in bandages that itched with pain, continuing to wrap until the pain subsided a bit. He opened the door to the gym, where his classmates met him with displeasure, including the girls.

— Midoriya, because of your tardiness, we don't have time to play volleyball, you idiot, why do we even need you? — said a girl with lime-green hair. And indeed, Midoriya wondered why they needed him. He was Quirkless, and the ideology of Re-Destro had well affected them, and at every opportunity, he became a mockery or a scapegoat. From all the harsh words in his address and bullying, he wanted to sink into the ground, his heart bled not wanting to be here. Coming home, his usual routine was to bury himself in a pillow as deeply as possible and not emerge from it, forgetting about the outside world. What always stopped him from this was his mother, who is now gone and will not be, and half the day he lay on the ground thinking about how useless and insignificant he was. His only comfort was his passion for heroes, which fed his hope. After all, his idol, All Might, always said that anyone with the intention to help others can be a hero, not thinking about themselves. Thanks to his faith in All Might, he fed a faint hope that he would meet him one day and his words would prove true. To prove his usefulness for heroes, he began to analyze all heroes — from their super moves to their weaknesses, which they openly admitted or were revealed in battles with villains.

[The true face of heroism is manifested courage.]

— Midoriya, line up and get ready. The standards are as follows:

100m run

Long jump

Sword throw

Push-ups for boys, squats for girls

And flexibility test.

Hearing what tests he would have to pass, Midoriya was horrified because, analyzing Quirks, he came to the frightening conclusion that even if a Quirk is not active, its passive skill increased all physical parameters, including strength, endurance, and speed, which was double or even triple that of those who don't have them.

***

At the end of the exam in the locker room.

— Well, well, I can't believe Deku took the last place in our class, even among the girls. It's a disgrace, you hear, Deku? — Katsuo said, changing clothes, but he stubbornly remained silent, driving him out of himself. He looked at him, and Midoriya turned his gaze away at that moment.

— Hey, he's talking to you, Deku, don't you hear? — A sycophant grabbed his shirt and began to pull him, but Midoriya grabbed his hand and pushed him away. He slightly lost his balance, stumbling over a small bench and hitting his head on the floor.

— Oh, look who picked up courage! Didn't know a dead mom gives strength to such a moron like him, — Katsuki decided to provoke him, looking down. Midoriya clenched his fists, his eyes filled with blood, and he watched as everyone in the locker room laughed not only at him but also at his mother. Unable to withstand such humiliation, he lunged at Katsuo.

— Don't you dare speak about her like that!!! — Izuku launched himself with his whole body at him, knocking him to the ground. Katsuo was stunned by this act and didn't have time to react as punches began to paint his face until blood flowed from his nose that he felt. The sycophants couldn't stand the beating of their friend and lifted Midoriya off of him; he struggled, but the forces were unequal, and they pulled him away from Katsuo.

So, you decided to play dirty, Deku? Well, let's see how you will sing when I step in, — he didn't even finish his sentence when a spit from Midoriya hit his face. He could no longer withstand it, and, watching as his classmates held Deku down so he wouldn't escape, he smiled sadistically and activated his Quirk as someone's hand rested on his shoulder.

— Hey, don't you dare paint his face without me, — said Katsuki, heating his palms.

— Ha, let's see whose punch is stronger, Bakugo, — he challenged him, making two of them smirk and glance at Deku, who was struggling.

The first punch landed on his face, instantly calming him. The hit was like iron and almost broke his nose, but instead, blood flowed. Unsatisfied, Katsuo snorted and replied to Katsuki:

— Hey, wait, I missed. Let's try again; I'll hit him more accurately this time. — He activated the Iron Fist in his right hand and, instead of hitting him in the face, he struck directly in the stomach, inflicting a pain on Izuku that he had never felt before. His eyes watered from the pain, and there was a metallic taste in his mouth — the blood was flowing out. Katsuki was already ready to strike, hitting him directly in the chest, almost breaking his ribs with the force. The blood that had accumulated in Izuku's mouth splattered onto Katsuki's and Katsuo's white shirts, staining them with blood.

— Son of a bitch, what have you done? That shirt is worth more than your life, damn Deku! — Both activated their Quirks and began testing their attacks on him. Izuku was in immense pain, his lungs were almost failing, and the laughter of the underlings echoed in his head until he lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground with blood in his mouth.

— Do you think he's dead? — asked Katsuo, to which Katsuki merely snorted in annoyance.

— He's not dead; let him lie there, he'll wake up and return to class anyway, — he replied, already preparing to leave the locker room.

Midoriya woke up 30 minutes after being beaten. His chest bones were cracking, and there was still a taste of blood in his mouth; his muscles ached as if they had been run over by a truck. When he looked at his chest, he saw marks from burns and metallic touches, which frightened him. But now, there was no one to worry about: his mother had gone to the afterlife, and his father had become a hazy figure who, instead of support, just took his money.

To be continued.

[2 chapters until Venom appears]