⟶ PIROS

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『 Chapter 19 』

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Chapter 19

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To be destroyed in the most beautiful way possible—isn't that the way we all want to go?

She stands in the back row of the red seats in her class section. Everything within her is heavy—too heavy to bare. Her eyelids droop and her fingers lose their sense of touch. It's too much. She doesn't even know what it is, but she just knows it's too fucking much.

What was once a tactile body is not hers anymore. The husk she inhabits feels like a burden and all she can do it see. She can stare. The entirety of the world is too much weight to hold, and so she peers into the unknown. A variable she cannot control.

The world is in front of her eyes, and she now realizes how small she truly is. A singular girl in the midst of the overpopulated and well-know Musutafu, Japan, with the hopes of being a hero. She is truly, utterly, and definably, unoriginal.

She is not just a small person in a society of untruthfulness, no, she is smaller. With her useless hands and futile efforts—everything within her is a lie.

What is she compared to the likes of Bakugou Katsuki? A personality too definable and truthful. His life bound to the sweat in his skin, his hands hold the gifts of DNA and inscribed destiny. His world is within the bounds of his eyes and the reach of his mind, stretching so vastly over basins of ocean and continents of dirt. His confidence is the reward of success and ability, so developed it intertwines his soul to his body as if it was blood.

How can she hold a candle to the light that is Midoriya Izuku? With the morals of a golden statue, he stands without a hair out of place. Everything with him is refined and supported, he shines as what the world should look like. He is a martyr of the light in a world of corruption. A puzzle piece of a thousand slots and all to form a masterpiece of a renaissance mind. All at once, all alive and all thriving, he is whatever the world needs. From grace to brash, he is wholly, fully, completely, true.

Is she even in the same league as Todoroki Shouto? A boy endowed in righteous fortune of trial and error. He is the gift given to those so persistent, to a family so wobbly and so crooked. He holds the weight of his code on his shoulders, everything he promises he'll be can only be defended by himself. How honorable is he, a young man who fights for his own autarchy? Chained by himself and then released by an icon of righteousness, he basks in the sun—the axiom of potential is an amalgamate of his perplexed existence.

Riptides of a blazing heat push the hair away from her face and cause her to grit her teeth, her eyes sting but she does not turn away. The tears that forebode their falling evaporate with all of her hopes and dreams. It's a searing warmth of passion and regret, full of repressed absolutes and indirect, muddled rage.

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