A/N: I edited the first chapter. Changed up a bunch of stuff. Like Izuku's job and now he doesn't have a companion. Yeah, small stuff. Also, thinking of just doing small bits for chapters now, since that's all I can manage.

Midoriya felt like dying.

He had just been shot—Stabbed—Broken. Limping on the only limb usable. He couldn't feel his arms. His hands were shaking. Smoke clouded his vision. He felt colder with each passing second, but he knew he was burning up. He was going to die. He just knew it.

He didn't have a Quirk. Only Heroes with Quirks are likely to sacrifice and live through it. He's Quirkless. He'll sacrifice and he won't survive it. Why? Because that's how the world works. The world isn't fair. The strong live on, while the weak perish. And what does Midoriya Izuku do about it? He fantasizes, and he fools himself into becoming something he isn't.

Why did he have to go through with this? He could've pursued any other job on the planet, and yet, he wanted to be the one to bleed for the sake of others.

Well, he's bleeding now.

It did not feel good. It was not cool. It does not look cool. He wasn't going to make it. He could feel his insides gushing out. The substance keeping him alive was leaking out of him, and he could see darkness coming. Blacking out.

What had he been fighting? Who had he been fighting?

Midoriya told himself it was a Villain.

The whole world told him not.

They told him that he was the Villain, and his enemy was the Hero.

A hero with a smile on his face, blond hair...

...red eyes...

Izuku stopped limping. His emerald eyes were met with crimson orbs, a body in shadows towering over him. Smoking arms. Pointed at him. Yellow build-up. His vision blacked out after that, not because he passed on, but because he was scared. His heart caught up in his throat. His hands charred. Tears shed. Old wounds opened up.

The Demon bled.

Midoriya woke up seeing stars.

He was lying on a cold floor, peering up at the night sky. It was bright, articially bright. Several pains crept up his skin, and injected themselves into his muscles. He was sweating, and it clung on to the fabric. He was cold everywhere. His hands and feet were heavy. He couldn't breathe well.

I'm in the suit, was his first thought. And then his second was: I slept in the suit.

The Demon sprung up instantly, finding itself bruised in eight different places and on a rooftop. It surveyed the area, high on a rush of blood, hoping nobody saw it. It tore its face off, letting air onto its pale skin. Midoriya's face was wet. He needed air. His body was in chaos. He could taste puke in his mouth. He dropped against the ledge when the energy left him. His eyes met with the billboard on the same rooftop he was agonizing over.

Big smile. Blond hair.

Red eyes.

Kacha...

Midoriya didn't finish the name.

The Demon instinctively held its arms in front of itself. Heat. Pain. Shock. Force.

Memories.

It calmed itself, letting its arms fall uselessly to its sides.

I haven't seen him in awhile. Years actually.

Midoriya noticed the nuclear Hero advertising a product. Some merchandising from the so-called Number One Hero.

Then why... Am I still scared of you?

Because he can still hurt the Demon. And he's still hurting Midoriya Izuku.

The demon patted its burned cloth.

I'm gonna have to finish that heat resistant material soon.

And Midoriya fantasized safety again.