Every Scar Doesn't Heal .:Depressed Midoriya:.

.:Chapter 1 Re-write:.

The news of Sir Nighteye's death had hit hard to those that knew the future seeing hero; Mirio and All Might the hardest. Mirdoriya hadn't known the man much and felt horrible for not being able to cry or show proper grievance when the bi-spectacle man had died. Standing still as if time had frozen him, that he was forever in that stage of processing.

It had gotten to the point where the greenette would lock himself away in his room, seeing how Aizawa gave those on the rescue mission time to recover. Of course the underground hero noticed his bright student's sudden enclosed behavior. He knew that Midoriya was a well reserved kid; is a well reserved kid, but not to this degree.

Keeping to himself meant he had cared, right? That he didn't need to shed tears for the man who decided to push past his indifference on who should have been All Might's successor. Everyone processes grief differently and this was his own way of mourning.

Rescuing Eri was a success even though those that had gone on said mission had mild to severe injuries, himself included. So Aizawa knew the toll it could have on a hero to not only witness someone who was a mentor but a friend die.

Midoriya knew that he should be happy in the retrieving of Eri, and he kind of is, but his heart isn't reaching out like it used to.

It has been what? One, almost two weeks since Eri was rescued and Sir Nighteye's passing? The rescue squad has three days before they are sent back to school. The duration would have been shorter if no death was involved but even Aizawa has a heart, somewhere in the black, coffee and cat loving void.

Midoriya flipped his case-like wallet open to stare at his hero license, an aching feeling pulling at his brain as his chest began to become icy. Doubt tugging at any resurfacing positivity he tried to muster up, falling short with each festering self loathing bubble in the inky blackness of his mind. Snide comments and snarky growls of the past growing louder and louder as he stared longer at the pristine card.

Soon guilt started to wrap its cold icy and slimy fingers around his mind, the chilling ink of the void dragging any reassurance he once had down to the deepest pits in the chasm.

'He died trying to protect you, something that you should have been able to do.'

And it was true. If he was able to get his darn hero's license then why was he so weak in protecting himself?

'Maybe you didn't want to be saved?', came the harsh gruff tone of a voice he had been trying to drown out for years. Making him reel back, sucking in a harsh breath as it got caught in his now dry throat.

Is that true?

Did Midoriya self consciously decide that he was beyond saving? That the only reason those spikes had hit him was because he gave up not even halfway through the battle?

With his fist clenching tightly, Midoriya closed his case roughly. Now staring at the circular mirror on his study desk across his dorm. Midoriya had decided to deep clean his dorm room. Any and all hero merch now tucked away in stacked boxes in his dorm's closet with a blanket tossed over them nicely.

Barren cream colored walls now daunting in the darkened room with softened hues of the setting sun. What was once beautiful emerald eyes now a dull juniper.

Small hint of shock came across his face as he swiveled his head to face his balcony.

Has it really been that long? He swore he had woken up not even an hour or two ago, the morning rays slipping through his room now glowing a soft gold with snippets of pinks, oranges, vibrant red, and a grey-like blue.

Shrugging it off, the greenette shoved all of the roaring and hissing voices of his past and present peers and decided to do something today.

He was slightly relieved that he didn't need to resort to his more unhealthy method of dealing with the voices. Today seemed a bit easier to manage than most days. Training always made him feel better and it was a Tuesday which meant that his classmates wouldn't be too bothered to train as much.