"You can run, but you cannot hide. We come for you, Winter Child. We come."
Those are the words I, Midoriya Izuku, heard before being attacked by what seems to be a rotting dog corpse. It moved faster than the eyes could follow and was about to bite...
I AM...HERE TO WAKE YOU! The blaring tones of Izuku's alarm shattered the silence, pulling him from the clutches of sleep like a ship torn from its moorings. He blinked away the residue of dreams, his eyelids heavy as anchors, finding himself suspended between the realms of slumber and wakefulness, a liminal space where reality and fantasy blurred.
A groan escaped his lips as he stretched, his muscles protesting the intrusion of consciousness like a petulant child roused from a deep slumber. Fragments of the previous night seeped into his mind, and with a start, he recalled the unexpected display of an unknown force, a surge of power that had rippled through him like a bolt of lightning.
It felt as if some dormant capability had awakened within him, leaving him both exhilarated and unsettled, a dichotomy of emotions warring within his breast. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Izuku pondered the unexplained power, his thoughts swirling like eddies in a restless stream.
The room felt different, charged with a subtle energy that whispered of possibilities beyond the ordinary, a palpable presence that seemed to hum with potential. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, the strands tangled and unruly, he grappled with the realization that something extraordinary had unfolded in the quiet hours of the night, a phenomenon that defied explanation.
He made his bed, his movements mechanical, his mind still occupied with thoughts of the previous night, the echoes of that strange awakening reverberating through his consciousness.
As he finished, he made his way to the hallway and into the dining area, where his mother was already setting up breakfast, the aroma of freshly cooked fare wafting through the air like a siren's song. "Good morning, Mom!" Izuku greeted her with a smile, trying to push the doubts about his power aside. Whatever it was, it would have to wait, a mystery to be unraveled in due time.
"Good morning, Izuku! How was your sleep?" his mom asked with a smile as she served the meal, her voice carrying a gentle warmth that enveloped him like a comforting embrace.
"It was perfect! Eight full hours of serene sleep, just as any Hero needs!" Izuku lied, the words tumbling from his lips with a practiced ease. In reality, every 40 minutes or so, he found himself caught in a dance between wakefulness and the desire for slumber, his mind a whirling dervish of fractured thoughts and fleeting impressions.
He didn't like lying to his mom, the deceit leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, but he didn't want her to worry, to burden her with the weight of his uncertainty. "That is great to hear, hun," she replied, her voice carrying a note of genuine relief. Izuku felt both amazed and grateful for his mom's accepting nature, her unwavering trust a beacon in the tempest of his inner turmoil. He didn't make a habit of hiding things from her, but she always took things at face value, a gift he cherished in moments like these.
After this exchange, he turned to their breakfast, the tantalizing aromas beckoning him like sirens calling to a weary sailor. It was a traditional fare, a feast for the senses: the earthy aroma of miso soup mingling with the savory scent of grilled salmon, the crisp fragrance of cucumber and konbu tsukemono, and the warm, comforting embrace of steamed rice, a staple that anchored the meal in familiarity.
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