Green Storm ⚡ MHA

。001

ONE
TUMBLE AND RUMBLE
OH DISTANT STORM
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　　Four-year-old Izuku Midoriya remembers the heat. His skin clung to his All Might flannel pyjamas like spandex and his normally unmanageable tangle of hair stood out in all directions. But he didn't mind too much. The encompassing warmth and soaking sweat reminded him of his Kacchan, with his sleepy giggles, heated blankets, and whispered shushes.

　　He remembers the storm. The weatherman had harped on for weeks about how intense this storm would be, and Izuku hadn't been able to contain his excitement.

　　And he hadn't been disappointed. The thunder set his home into a shutter and rattled his foggy bedroom window. Izuku watched with wide eyes as the lightning lit up the sky and his bedroom, and the boy swore he could feel the remnants of electricity tingling under his skin. But even though Izuku wanted to stay up all night and watch the beauty before him that set his entire being aglow, the percussion of steady rain sang him to sleep.

　　Izuku remembers the cold chill that had settled along his skin as he opened his eyes the next day.

　　The biting cold pushed him out of his dreams and into a definitely cold and definitely wet bed. Izuku had sighed as he stepped out of his unpleasant sheets, still half asleep. His All Might socks let out an unpleasant squelch and Izuku finally broke away from the last lingering chains of his subconscious.

　　One quick sweep with fatigued eyes and Izuku knew something had soaked his entire room. His laundry lay drenched on the floor and his homework was soppy and ruined. The most peculiar thing was the scorch marks that bloomed on his floors and walls like ashen flowers.

　　Izuku couldn't understand what happened. Yet, somehow, the remaining thunder shuttering from within his veins whispered the answer to the four-year-old.

　　"You invited me in."

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　　He did not know how long he stood there in his soaking and scarred room, asking the voice inside him what it meant. There was no reply of pattering rain and excited electricity, only the frazzled questioning of his Mother and the deafening silence of his Father. Hisashi cleaned up the room quicker than a flickering flame and made a dismissive comment about a crack in the roof before hurrying off to work. The entire ordeal didn't outlast breakfast and both Inko and Izuku pushed it to the side in favour of school and chores and what they'd have for dinner.

　　The next few weeks had Izuku feeling alive.

　　He hadn't heard the voice since that night, but he could feel its presence; could feel it lending him strength. Izuku opened his notebooks, scribbled page-after-page about his quirk. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect before he showed Kacchan.

　　It was a Sunday night when he finally perfected his hero book and he spent that night sleeping with it hugged tightly to his chest, too excited to even think about letting go even as his eyelids grew heavy and sleep took over.

　　His happiness did not last till morning.

　　Izuku woke up sore, unrested, cold. He could feel his hair sticking to something and when he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he felt the same substance smear across them.

　　He called for his Mother, frightened and struggling to stay still as he heard her run through the halls. She greeted Izuku with a startled gasp and rushed to pick him up from whatever mess he was sitting in, attempting to clean him with the sleeve of her shirt. Izuku listened to how his Mother's frightened heartbeat echoed the rushed patter of her feet as she carried him tight against her chest, and he couldn't help but feel frightened in return.