Ashes of Decoding

Upcoming Sports Festival

It was around that time that Fuyumi and Natsuo finally returned, both looking drained of energy themselves from their day. That night, they fell asleep with blank minds, besides Izuku. His thoughts swirled together, creating a black mass of fog and static in his head. His face scrunched, he curled up tight but kept his mouth tightly shut. Was his mind screaming, or was it him? Who was that figure? What was happening? Where was he? What is he f̴͇̃ĕ̴̥e̸̩̽l̸̰͑ḯ̷̝n̸̡͐g̸̅ͅ?̷̮̂ ̵̥͘Ạ̷̄n̸̳̓g̸͍̕e̴̤͘r̷͖̔?̶̱̈ ̷̪͒Š̸̞a̷̯̕d̴͔̋n̵̰̉ȅ̸̮š̸͕s̴̭̀?̵̡̛ ̷̰͝Ġ̸̭u̸̜̎i̴͚̋ĺ̵̥ṭ̴͒?̵̠̄ ̸̤͆F̶̬͋e̷͙͊ă̶͉r̴̜̒?̶͔̕ ̸̳̏I̶͍̅s̷͙̿ ̶̰̋t̷̨̊ḧ̷̞́i̴͔̅s̷̩͝ ̵͍̕w̷͓̕h̵̼̀ā̸͈ṱ̴̈ ̴̜̄t̷͈͑h̷̺̋ḛ̷̀ ̷̭͘l̷͈̈́e̵̖̒a̷̝͋g̴̢͝u̸͍̿ẽ̴͚ ̷̡͆i̵̲͝s̶͖̀ ̶͚̎p̶̪͂ļ̸̆a̶͇̒ñ̷͈n̴̙̆i̵̢͋n̸̤͐g̴̼͐?̵͖́ ̸͖̓W̴̠̔ḩ̷̍ÿ̵̙́ ̸̧̌c̵̣͐ä̸̞n̶̨͘'̷͇̔t̸̗͒ ̷͉̌I̶̝̍ ̶̜̆š̴̡p̸̢̾ḛ̶̍ȧ̵̢k̷̛͉?̶̻̑ ̸̫̈́C̴͘ͅa̴̡͗n̸̝̊'̷̙͆t̴̜͒ ̷̗́m̸͕͒ö̶̤́v̸͇̚e̷̪̐?̴̻̇ ̵̥̈C̸͇͂a̵̛̝n̷̯͗'̷͉̒t̵̹͛ ̷̤̅d̷͔̐ỏ̵̗ ̶͖̃a̸͙̓n̷̳͆y̷̩̽t̴̮̎h̷̲͘ị̴̇ń̵̗g̴̙̒?̸̱̉ ̷̨͆W̶̟͝ẖ̸̈́y̶̻̋?̶̥̈ ̴̲̌Ẇ̶̧h̷͒͜y̵̤͂,̴̰̉ ̸̢̐w̸̧̍h̵͚̃y̵͔͝,̷͈̆ ̷̺͆w̷̠̒ḩ̵͂ẙ̴̟,̴͑ͅ ̷͚̿w̴̛̬h̶̯̑Ÿ̷̙́,̶͙͌ ̶̢̓W̴̥͑H̴̨̊Ỵ̵́,̵͎͐ ̶͌͜W̶̩̐H̶͈͂Y̸̥̕,̷̻̀ ̴̙̆Ẇ̷̯H̵̞̉-̸̜͠

He gasped, eyes wide as he panted. He clawed at his throat, mouth dry and sweat rolling down his forehead. 'What was that? What happened?' He sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness that enveloped the room. He glanced to his side, seeing Eri sleeping peacefully wrapped under the blanket. He let out a quiet sigh, twisting and stepping out of the bed. He clutched his head in his hand as he stumbled to the wall. He exited the room on trained, silent feet, down the stairs and to the kitchen. He navigated his way to the fridge and reached up to the side, grabbing the handle of a cupboard and yanked it open. He blindly reached around for a glass cup, taking it out and tumbling over to the sink. He poured himself a glass of water and greedily gulped it down, but the dryness in his throat barely changed. He felt his knees buckle, and he collapsed against the kitchen counter. He slid down, sitting on the floor as his brain clouded and fogged over.

He felt his eyes dilate and become fuzzy, dots splotching his vision as he breathed. He set the glass down next to himself and curled up tight, wrapping his arms around his legs as he silently shook. Was it fear? Or was it the coldness that seeped through his veins and bones, burning with such intensity that it froze him to the core? Or maybe the hatred he felt like daggers and spears towards those that endangered the people he'd sworn to protect? He didn't know what exactly it was, but he didn't want to feel it. Not the burning pressure in his veins, not the pounding of his heart at it thumped wildly in his chest, not the headache that struck his brain like the ticking of a clock echoing within his ears. He just wanted it to stop. To stop and let him breathe, to stop and allow him to think clearly without the threat of a looming shadow o̴͚͌v̸̢͒e̵̮̽r̷̍͜h̴̤̃a̵͚̕n̶̳̿ğ̶̬i̷̜͑n̸̞̔g̶̣͝ ̴͔̽h̸͔͋ị̴̒s̵̩̉ ̶̦͝f̵̺͂r̸͈͆a̷̞̚m̸̻͐e̶̲͊ ̵̘͆a̵͓̽n̸̜̎d̷̬̉ ̷͈͠b̸̠̀r̴͈̋e̸̲̔a̵̛͓t̶̪͛ẖ̵̕ĭ̵̦n̶̖̒ǵ̸͓ ̴̫̿d̷̢̃o̷̯͗w̴̺̒ń̴̞ ̷͕̂h̸̺͗i̶͓͑s̸̼͝ ̸͔͐ṅ̷̢e̸̡̿c̷̢̑k̸̖͆.̸͚̏ ̴̰̈Ţ̶̿o̷̮͐ ̶̨̓s̵͚̀t̵͌ͅo̷̪̅p̶̈́ͅ ̵̳͆t̴͚͐ḧ̸̙́ē̸̦ ̸̲̃t̵̜̓ḧ̸͕r̷̥͊e̴͖̋a̸͛͜t̷̥̚ ̶͎͝ó̶̰f̷̘̅ ̴͈͊s̴̯̈o̸̦̅m̴̯̐e̶̩̎ơ̵̻n̵̂͜ê̸̝ ̶̥͗d̶̙̅y̴͙̚í̸̥ņ̴̛ḡ̵̡ ̷̖̈́b̴̜̚e̶͕͛c̸͇͐a̶͈̔u̴͚͛ş̷̓e̶͓͐ ̴̦̓ḧ̸̹́ȩ̴̇ ̴̟͌ẃ̶̝a̵̗͋s̷̲̀n̷͎̚'̸̪͌t̵͔̏ ̸͚̀s̴͕̀ẗ̶̢r̴̨͛ò̸̺n̴͇̿g̷͙̀ ̵̝̃è̵̺n̸̥͝o̴̝̾u̶̱̎g̶̘̑ḧ̴̙́ ̴̘̑ō̷̙ṟ̴͑ ̶̛͖q̷̤̈́ú̸̮ị̵̀c̵͆͜k̶͖̆ ̴̰̕e̴͇͘n̸̂͜ò̶̢u̸̜̐g̶͎͒h̷̠͝ ̴̯͊o̵͔͌r̶̠͑ ̸̟̏h̸̪͗ỏ̴̥w̷̭̆ ̵̭̒ǘ̶̱ṣ̸̆ė̸̟l̸̮͝è̸ͅs̷̼̃s̶͜͠ ̴̯͂h̸͎͝e̸̛̜ ̵͌͜w̸̪͗a̷̗͛s̸͕̋ ̴̺̓i̷͍̒n̶̦̓ ̸̱̅t̸̢̔ḣ̶̢ā̶̱t̴͇̅ ̷̤́m̶̤̓ŏ̸̲ḿ̸̜e̸̗̚n̵͎̉t̸͚̏-̵̖̒