|| 𝕯𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝕷𝖚𝖘𝖙 ||

D r o w n i n g

His skin peeled off as the bugs crawled through his pores. It was his flesh that melted off his bones, looking into the floor.

The buzzing of flies were loud, but not as loud as the maggots living in his head, nesting in his ears.

He saw it.

The green hair was dry, matted. The freckles were washed away from the loss of blood, mold blooming in his sunken eye sockets.

Izuku saw it.

He stared at his own decaying corpse from the doorway. One that lied alone in a dry pool of blood.

Ah. So no one found him yet.

Izuku saw his body.

He saw the self inflicted wounds fester with living memories and disease. He saw his neck tilt unnaturally. He saw his limbs slayed out.

Izuku looked forward at his living vessel that he no longer lived in.

Then, he looked down at the blade in his own hand. The blade that took, not only three lives, but his full pride and dignity.

Izuku took a step forward towards his own corpse from the door. His footsteps held no sound and hair no movement.

Was he a ghost? Does that mean he died in hell? No... this didn't quite make sense; Shoto and... Dabi? He heard him say his name. Dabi. Shoto and Dabi had come for him. Against all of Izuku's assumptions they arrived.

So there was no way he was dead a second time. He had to be safe. Somewhere.

Izuku stood at his own feet now, his phantom touches stirred the flaking skin like dandruff. The bugs scurried across his face to run.

Izuku reached down and took the blade from corpse-Izuku's hand. It was... hard to grasp. Kind of.

He grabbed it, but it went through his hold. He tugged again, carefully, and it shifted from his white fingers. He tugged again and it flew onto the ground, setting on top of the deep blood-stains. Izuku wrapped his fingers around the blade and slowly lifted. It seemed to rise, if nothing with a little trouble.

He looked at the rusted metal. Once upon a time this blade would clean gunk off counters, a helpful tool. It still helped, kind of. It helped relieve tension by making blood. It helped make pain on top of the problem, not scrape away the original issue.

'That's okay though.' Izuku found himself thinking this with a bemused smile. 'It still helped me so much.'

His eyes examples the blade, bloody finger prints dried into the surface, flakes of dead cells stuck inside the browned film.

He moved the blade slowly to his corpse's face and tore through the flesh as he had done so many times when alive. His cheeks were dry, it made it easier to slice through, like old paper.

He sliced the corners of his own mouth into a smile.

Izuku stood back again and stared at the blade in his hand.

He tested dragging it across his stomach. It didn't do anything physically, but there was some tingling sensation left in its place, a cold shimmer of energy.

He examined his pale skin curiously and dragged the blade to his wrist, waving it through the entirety of it. It was weird. He was a ghost that could phase through himself it seemed.

The same tingling sensation happened, this time much stronger. He curiously drew a smile into the palm of his hand. It didn't show up physically.

Izuku closed his eyes and dropped the blade, concentrating on his palm. He felt the individual sparks of energy that made up the two line-eyes. He felt the curve of the smile go against the bump of his thumb.