What Makes A Hero

1

jumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpjumpju-

      For a third time that afternoon Izuku moved without thinking... and he jumped. Air once more whipped past him only this time he was falling.  Falling through the wind as peace finally washed over him, the voices fading into a blissful silence allowing him once more the ability to clearly think. And then realization dawned. He began to notice what he had done as the panic took over.

What was he thinking?!?! (He wasn't)

     How could he just-(it had been simple really, so much easier th-)

    What would his mom do (finally have more time now that she didn't ha-)

     He didn't want to go, (yes, he did. He very so much did.)

     He- He didn't want to die like this! (Maybe... maybe he didn't, not like this, not showing the world he had failed to even do the bare minimum, to-).

     But what choice did he have? He had already made his and it was too late to reverse it.

And then... then it was over, the terror receding as he was caught, arms wrapping around him and roughly throwing him over one shoulder so his cheek hit their solid, too warm back. He was caught.

   He had been caught.

Black spots danced in his vision as once again as the force  of being caught knocked the breath straight from his lungs, almost as painful as the surge of relief that blocked everything else from his mind. Once again he became truly deaf to the world and his surroundings.

He woke up to a plain room. Or rather a plain nurses' office? There were only really two beds and no curtains surrounding them although there was an open window letting a breeze in, covered by a curtain. Everything in it was the bleached white you rarely found outside hospitals except a desk with an attached cabinet and drawers that was stainless steel. Nothing but a single pen could be seen on the desk.

       He glanced around once more before slowly sitting up, and sliding out of the bed. His bare feet flinched back from the cold floor, although it seemed his backpack, socks, and shoes were the only thing missing as he still had his uniform on. As quietly as he could he walked toward the door; it didn't have a handle, but swung open quietly with a soft push.

Stepping from the room he was greeted with even more white. He had entered a hall with six similar doors along it. One at each end and two on each side. Unsure what to do he went to move towards the door across from him until he heard a soft sound from the farthest one. He changed direction and moved towards the one at the other end of the hall. The door openers without a sound at his push revealing to him a simple kitchen on one side with a single chair against the wall and two couches and a coffee table on the other side. A lap top sat closed atop the table. Once more in only whites and stainless steel.

Looking shockingly out of place, sitting straight, legs crossed in the stainless steel chair was a man- or perhaps Izuku should say an older teen, he couldn't have been more than twelve years older than Izuku's own seven years of life. The sound, no doubt coming from the flip of the pages, was a testament to how silent the house was. But that wasn't what made him so out of place. For starters he wore black. A long black jacket, black t-shirt, black jeans, and black shoes. His multitude of ear piercings were silver as were the assortment of bracelets and necklaces he wore. The stones on any bracelets that had them were dark blues and purples. The necklace chains disappeared under his shirt with the exception of a dark purple and blue pendant that dangled almost all the way to his stomach.