Author: undefmidi

2020

Boku no Hero characters, original story, and everything belongs to Kohei Horikoshi, the author of said series. I only own this plot.

Notice at the end of the chapter!

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Chapter 18 – Gears

Izuku plopped down on his bed after a long day of school. He didn't even bother to organize his room. All he wanted was to lay down, melt into his fluffy mattress, and find whatever shred of solace he could.

But the comfort of his own bed didn't relieve the ever-growing pain that permeated his chest.

"Why is it so hard…" He muttered to himself.

After they had returned from the beach a couple of days ago, Izuku had been the center of conflict for Nejire and Momo. They would restlessly compete with each other for a reason Izuku couldn't comprehend.

Or at least that's what he's been telling himself over and over again ever since he had to eat two bentos at once; ever since he dared to consider the mere possibility of being the target of someone's love.

"I just… What should I…"

Ever since he was young, Izuku had been the target for harsh words and ignorance. Sometimes he even had wished that he could just go home, ignore the class, and cry. Every time someone looked at him, it was either out of pity, or out of spite.

And as time passed, such things ended up scarring Izuku. He couldn't see himself as something other than a stepping stone for those who held power, nor could he see himself as being worthy of anything.

Whenever he would look in the mirror, all he would see was an image of the scrawny middle-schooler with disgusting freckles. A weak, pitiful excuse for a man.

And overtime, the occasional self-loathing became so recurring that it transformed into the norm. It was standard for him the fact that he was just plain, and he ultimately stopped hurting himself over it.

And even though he had been slowly gaining confidence and assertiveness as time progressed at U.A., it didn't change his lack of self-confidence and self-love. He couldn't picture himself tackling romance.

Never in his entire life did he think someone would be even remotely interested in him. He was clueless, and it hurt him just to think about this whole situation.

"I'm not…" He clenched his bedsheets.

Izuku also didn't know why they liked him. He wasn't handsome, nor did he have an amazing personality. All he had were his unappealing nerdy hobbies and All Might wallpapers.

And yet a miracle happened. Not only one, but two girls began to show interest in him, even if in the slightest.

Crushed by its own pressure, his heart wept in sorrow. Although any other boy would leap in joy when discovering they were the target of a girl's "love", Izuku just fell into a downwards spiral of self-loathing. A hole he couldn't get out of.

He was a kid stuck in a well. All he could do was huddling himself in a corner, crying while waiting for a help that'd never come.

Izuku eventually fell into slumber, and slept an empty, dreamless night.

…

Todoroki's punchbag echoed throughout the personal gym in his house. His punches were the drums of an orchestra in disarray. A decrescendo where every chord felt like a pitiful whimper echoing a hollow theater.

His conflicted mind, an indecisive maestro trying to coordinate two clashing melodies. A gritty jealousy, and a tender gratitude.

Midoriya was the source of both; the source of Todoroki's conflict.

His gratitude, a happy violin singing notes as warm a field of sun-kissed daisies. Naïve and clueless.

His jealousy, a rhythmless drum waiting for a queue that'd never come. Bitter, hopeless.

He fought against this daunt current of conflict, using every ounce of his strength in order to stop, even if for a brief moment, this onslaught of noises he was never prepared to hear; of inexplicable emotions he could barely understand.

But he, the maestro himself, couldn't harmonize both tunes.

He kept punching that bag until droplets of blood fell on the floor. Never before, did Todoroki feel like this.

He had to think; he had to understand what he should do. Jabbing until he minced both his hands wouldn't help him either. He had to take control over his heart, over that chaotic ensemble.

What do I want?

The maestro halted both tunes.

Do I want to have her all for myself?

He raised one of his hands, and the drummer strafed his drums, yearning to play. Yet, nothing but booms and clacks echoed in disarray.

Do I want to help him, just like he helped me?

He raised his other hand, and the violinist tenderly danced with the notes in cozy, simple notes. Yet, he only played gullible melodies that lacked fire and passion.

He couldn't ignore his jealousy, for that would be lying to himself.

He couldn't neglect his gratitude, for that would be replicating his dad's cruelty.

I need…

Todoroki finally realized what he had to do. It was so simple he could barely believe his blindness.

A small, unnoticeable smile went up the maestro's face as he gradually fused both the gritty drummer of his jealousy and the gentle violinist of his gratitude in one unique melody, one that only he understood.

It was his own way of doing things, just as his own body was built to manage both fire and ice; two conflicting forces that, naturally, would never approach each other.

Rapid and serene, fierce and tender, fiery and icy.

With one last punch, one final crescendo, the song ended. The maestro, fulfilled.

And Todoroki knew what he had to do.

…

Chalk on board, green on white.

Aizawa was as monotonous as ever, but kept teaching the students nonetheless. He didn't hate being a teacher. That was just his personality of iron. Cold, brass, and hard.

But Izuku didn't really pay attention to any formula; to anything the teacher said. His mind was in autopilot, and he only did the bare minimum to not call attention to his unusual absent-mindedness.

Last night wasn't a good one for him. It's not like he had a nightmare, either.

He just wanted to end all these thoughts and forget about them. Put them in a box and never open it again.

Facing either Yaoyorozu or Nejire would just burden him more. He couldn't bring himself to look at them, to lock gazes.

Eyes are the window to the soul — a clichéd phrase, but accurate nonetheless.

Head lowered, Izuku kept writing and writing. What? He didn't really know at the moment, but it was the only thing he could do in order to run from these things, even if for the tiniest bit of time.

Riiiiiiiing!

The bell called, and his classmates began to leave the classroom. Soon, it was just him and a handful of students.

He packed his bags and walked out of classroom, into the corridors of U.A. Some say those corridors are a huge palette of colors, filled to the edge with the craziest quirks and a whole lot of unique people.

Winged, horned, blue, red, big, small — a plethora of different traits composed such a diverse, beautiful school painted in warm hopes and golden dreams.

And, for a second, this beauty distracted Izuku from his own stormy, gloomy mind.

"Hey, Midoriya." Someone tapped his shoulder.

"Oh, hey Todoroki. Something the matter?"

"I just have to talk to you for a bit. Let's just go somewhere less crowded."

"Uh, sure."

He followed Todoroki into an empty hallway. He scratched his head. What could he possibly need me for?

"Midoriya, do you understand what you've been doing lately?" Todoroki furrowed his brows.

"… What do you mean?" He still didn't understand the reason for all this.

"You've been leading Yaoyorozu on for a while, haven't you?"

Hammer on nail. A slam that echoed through the depths of his heart like a church's bell on a funeral.

"W-What?" Midoriya stepped back, quaking his feet.

"I knew it…" Todoroki wasn't angry, but his solemn expression shook Izuku even more. "You're not a bad person, Midoriya, I know that for a fact. So why are you doing this?"

His hands fiddled together frantically, seeking any shred of comfort he could in that spiky situation. "I-I…"

"Don't panic, I won't kill you. I just want to talk." He calmly said.

With deep breaths, he eventually calmed down. "I… Just don't feel okay."

"Could you tell me why?"

"I can't… I mean, I don't feel like I deserve the right to be with someone. I mean, there are so many people better than me. I'm sorry, I just… Ugh…"

Todoroki understood that to an extent. He was birthed, raised, and trained with the sole purpose of being better than someone, to be better than the one. But no matter how many hours of training, how many punches his gut felt, none of that would even pale in comparison to All Might's strength.

And none of that ever brought him happiness. Todoroki was better than most people in every way possible. Brains, brawn, quirks; none of that mattered when paired against his perfect genetics.

And, with the help of certain people, he understood that, to be happy, he had to be true to himself. He could become a hero regardless of his past. He could bring joy to his mother, regardless of his left-side.

"… But didn't you tell me, 'It's your power, isn't it'?"

Midoriya himself was one of these people. Regardless of winning or losing the battle, he chose to help Todoroki. He kept destroying his own body in order to save him, in order to make him realize who he really was.

"… I get it, so I'll say it to you as well…"

But he was in the same hole Todoroki was in a while ago. He was in the same pinch, in the same dire predicament as someone who rejected part of his own 'self'.

"… It's your life, isn't it?"

Like an arrow that pierces its target, those words reached into his soul. Midoriya felt like a hypocrite, like he didn't heed to his own advice, just like All Might told him when he was saved from the slug monster.

He wasn't true to his own advice.

Click…

A hypocrite. He said all of those amazing things to Todoroki, and he, himself, ignored them.

Click…

A hypocrite. He didn't do anything in order to change himself. He just gave up.

Click…

A hypocrite. He rejected every ounce of 'Izuku Midoriya', only accepting 'Deku' as himself.

Clack!

Saying beautiful words, yet doing nothing to honor them is just another form of lying, of deceit. He had to walk forward if he wanted to become a hero, if he wanted to become himself.

All these years, he had rejected himself along with his quirklessness. He threw everything that he was into the garbage, not looking back.

But that didn't matter. Like Todoroki changed himself, accepting his loathed left-side and separating himself from the shadow of his own father, Midoriya understood he could change.

He had to.

"Thank… You." A silent tear rolled down his face.

Two words. A simple phrase that meant so much to him.

He was told he could become a hero, but he was never told he could become himself.

Slowly but surely, his gears started to move.

Todoroki's, too.

…

Thank you for reading!

I'm sorry for these 9-10 months of hiatus. I've been through a lot of things in 2019, and I know you deserve to know them.

It began with my notebook breaking, and I couldn't write anymore (I didn't like writing on my phone).

About that time, I fell slowly into sadness. Self-loathing and lack of self-esteem poisoned me for months on end, and not only that, but they were paired with an utter lack of inspiration in every area of my life. It was sickening, honestly.

And only at the end of that time, around the 6th month, is when I got my notebook. But it didn't really matter when I felt like garbage in general.

I tried to write multiple times, to do something, anything in order to recompose myself, but that took a lot of time.

And when I thankfully stopped feeling like garbage, I was still deep into writer's block and lack of inspiration.

Thank you for your patience, and I'm truly sorry for taking so much time off.

Thank you for reading this fanfiction. A silly one at that.

Thank you for watching me evolve through these 3 amazing years!

Thank you for the 1k+ followers on Wattpad, and the humongous support over at fanfiction dot net.

Hope to see you in the next chapter!

Stay cold!