Mika had suffered grief before.
Though, they would never admit.
'Words are power', people would say. It was nothing but foolish to them, because have those people never met their mother?
For their mother, it was the complete opposite.
'You have no quirk. I'm surprised you still consider yourself the eldest sister. Might as well give your primogeniture to Miku, unlike you, she actually deserves it.
What a great hero she would become.'
Mika took those words as a competition. Something to beat right in front of their mother's eyes. They started fighting; boxing, Taekwondo, Karate, wrestling and anything you could think of. They learned the basis of every skill they laid hands on, never officially mastering them.
But why? Well, they didn't care if they won a trophy, black belt or anything of that matter. They just wanted to prove people wrong. Prove their mom that they could do something and be someone even if they were quirkless.
That maybe...someone quirkless like them could be a hero. Could save lives. Could change the world.
Oh how marvelous would it be if they saw the look on people's faces the day they were put as the best Pro-Hero in Japan.
Of course, life is unfair. That's just how it is meant to be.
'Your hands are power', they would tell themself while either boxing with bare, bloodied hands, kicking until their legs were too weak to stand or wrestle until both them and their opponent killed themselves.
Life is unfair.
No matter how hard they tried, it just seemed that the closest they could ever get to power was a brisk of fingers; a lick of its taste; a whiff of its smell. But never was Mika capable to have it in their own hands.
It seemed whenever they were so close, so damn close, society would pull them back. Back to the bottom. Way back at the start.
'You can't become a hero.'
'You can't save people.'
'You can't be strong.'
'You can't be non-binary. You're a girl!'
'You can't dress like that. Gosh, wear a dress for once!'
'You can't be strong.'
'You can't be weak either.'
'You can't.'
'You can't.'
'You can't.'
Their mother, their father who would never defend them, their classmates, their teachers. It seemed as though everybody was against Mika and only Mika. It seemed as though no matter how hard they tried and no matter how much blood came from their body, nobody would bat an eye.
Life is unfair.
So that's when Mika decided to give up. When they collapsed on the floor; sweat and tears smothering their face with only thought and nothing else.
'Words are power.'
What a satisfying feeling it was to give up. It felt so weird, relieving yet painful but also breath-taking. As if all their life they were trapped in this cycle of being their best. A cycle that never ended and was always about proving people right.
For other people, they sensed a form of victory the day Mika didn't go to school. For weeks they didn't show up. Even months; the people from school never faltered in talking about that one student who finally gave up.
Yeah, words are power, aren't they?
When Mika finally went back to school, the guilt and shame ate them from mind to flesh alike. Silently pulling a few strands of hair every time someone would talk about how it was better for Mika to stay at home, how they should've never came back, why they should've give up.
It was satisfying to be a failure to their own soul. But when others rejoiced, the addiction of proving people wrong seeped out of their dry eyes and onto their hands that only wanted to heel from the blood and bruises.
It was a cycle. On. Off. On. Off. On off. On. Off.
But at the end of the day, it just wasn't worth it.
That day, was the day they suffered their first loss. Because all these years, they worked hard to be someone. To have that tag of someone taped on their forehead. Maybe even be a Pro-Hero, be well-known around the world.
Maybe they could've been someone. Mika Hirumi: someone. Someone who saved the world. Someone who saved everyone.
The day Mika had given up on being that someone, on replacing a quirk with raw strength and power alone, was the day they suffered their first loss.
But the day the only person who understood them died when they could've done something. When Mika could've done what they had always fantasized about—-saving someone, was the day they suffered their second loss.
A loss Mika could've prevented. A loss that couldn't be said. Because if their mother's words and their classmates words and their teachers words became true, what about their words?
If Mika admitted to the truth, would the last bit of her disappear?
Words are power, aren't they?
Why? Because life is unfair.
***
It had been two months.
Two months where Izuku stayed in the arms of 'them'. Two months where it seemed that Katsuki's hatred of being forgotten and unhelpful tore him apart. Two months since Shoto, Touya, and Himiko have been isolated, never once opening their mouths when it was time for interrogation.
"We've been here for a long time now, huh Dabi?"
"Shut up, Himiko."
"Yet, they haven't even gotten the first part of the story! Though, I do wonder how long we'll be here. It's getting kinda boring," she huffed, shifting around since the place she sat was too uncomfortable.
Shoto blinked under the blanket over his eyes, "Himiko-San, this is an isolation room. It is a place where police keep us away from people including family, friends and acquaintances to-"
"We know that Shoto-Chan."
"Oh."
Two months were Mika wasn't able to get anything out of their damn mouths.
Two months where Inko went through the same baby album over and over again.
And it seemed like time repeated itself. Never did one of them wake up to something different. It was all the same. Not once did they wake up to a change; a miracle perhaps. Maybe a curse or even a little bit of both.
Not once.
Katsuki still did Hero work, the press never stopped asking questions about Izuku or Shoto. Inko still took care of her life, went to work even in her tired days where it seemed that the only thing in her mind was the other mother she wished wasn't there.
Global warming was getting worse by day, cars and smoke from quirks not helping while villains still got arrested by day.
For them, they were stuck in a black hole as life carried on.
Katsuki would go outside; his slow pace was perfect for observing. His eyes would dart left to right as he took in the sight of the new city he still wasn't accustomed to.
He had to move during the process of the reconstruction. Not because he wasn't going to tolerate living in a place with cracks (he really wasn't) but because living in an apartment complex with people who will ask you questions every single day or bash you out on a daily basis wasn't something Katsuki had time for.
He moved to another city, bought a pretty good house and kept it at a minimal. The place was far more quiet—-everybody there too busy with their own lives to stop and insult a also busy Pro-Hero.
I guess rich people are selfish bastards, he would think to himself.
Yet even though he was busy and all, that didn't mean their were days or nights or weekends where he sat on a chair and let his thoughts, dreams, buddies and even Izuku drown him.
Advil wasn't helping as much.
His hatred tore him apart slowly; as slowly as the rotation of the earth around the sun. His hatred slowly evolved around him and slowly convinced him that Izuku...
...That Izuku wasn't going to come back.
He would yell at him, curse his name though he didn't mean anything that would come out of his mouth. Called him selfish, bias, egocentric, narcissistic, self-absorbed, everything he could find in the dictionary.
Everyday Katsuki's vocabulary grew, his loneliness did the same.
Their were days where he was too upset to get up. He'd stop visiting Izuku a few days ago—-the only one doing the visiting was Izuku's mother, Inko.
Soon, his dreams and fantasies became his escapism. He would think to himself, You got what you wanted, Deku. Ya happy? Getting to escape?
Well guess what? I'm not. So get your ass over here, selfish prick. Stop playing hero...because even heroes need help.
Obviously, Izuku couldn't listen. Everyday he was checked on by nurses to see if he was still breathing.
Everyday Izuku grew distant from everybody who used to know him. It soon became him and the four white walls that surrounded him and 'them' who always had him in their arms.
Yet, Katsuki was losing it. Because as he looked at that canvas that was left untouched, unseen, untattered and without a single blemish, it took him back to the boy he grabbed in his arms as he slowly closed his eyes.
The boy who ate Katsudon with quiet chopsticks but a thankful mouth.
The boy who Katsuki leaned against as he wanted to find the boy he once knew.
The boy who bumped into him with a photograph in his shaky hand.
The boy who was shirtless and wet with an unconscious man right beside him.
The boy who drowned.
The boy who just needed a hug.
"Hello?"
"Izuku is waking up."
*beep*
"Hello?"
"Hello?!"
~~~~~
As the dump trucks took away all the trash, squirrels looking for acorns, and people walking their dogs, Katsuki didn't seem to even notice how loud the truck was or how fast the dogs ran or how the acorns would hit his head.
It repeated itself, of course. Katsuki ran to the only person that kept him alive even though the person himself was neither here or gone.
Some people would stop and stare as they whispered within themselves, others would simply pity the boy who left tears in the soil.
It didn't matter. All Katsuki wanted to do was see him, hold his hand and feel the warmth that he hadn't felt in months. He wanted to do so much with the boy with green hair but he couldn't.
Everytime Katsuki would go to sleep, he would think to himself over and over again, I'll see you again.
He would dream that Izuku was still there. The dreams that felt so real it was too good to be true. Yet, too good to be true was too good to be true.
The alarm would wake him up from fantasies yet to be taking into action.
"Midoriya Izuku! H-he woke up! I just got told he woke up! Take me to him, damn it!"
"Sir please wait-"
"Damn it, take me to him!"
~~~~~
"You must go, he's waiting," they said, in a calm tone with soft fingers running through Izuku's hair. He liked when they did that. It felt nice.
"I don't want to. I wanna stay here. Why can't I stay here?" He asked, a whiny tone that reminded them of the times where they were in children's books and teen's textbooks.
"They're waiting. That's why," they said, again with a calm tone. Not a hint of sadness or anger or anything resembled in their voice.
"But back there-" Izuku started, pointing towards the ground below, "is scary. I have no quirk, no power, one for all is basically not even with me anymore. Who knows where it went! It's probably in a villain's hands, or worse! And you expect me to go back there?"
Well, that wasn't something Space was expecting. Izuku was always calm, more of a childish vibe that surrounded him as he awed the place that surrounded him. Not once was his yell loud enough to send stars flying.
"You have people back there. There are people—-kind and caring who want to hug you. Who want to be there for you and help you get your strength back.
You were always strong, Izuku. You just never saw it because you were in the wrong point of view."
Izuku eyed them in awe, amazed yet confused by such a saying he thought was some sort of psalm. "Huh?"
"If you were to see yourself in other people's eyes, I assure you even you would fall in love with yourself."
Those words rang a little memory—-maybe a little photograph forgotten in his back pocket. Yet, he didn't remember who said it. Didn't remember why. All he remembered was that it was said.
"You're nothing but a selfish man that I fell in love with since high school."
Selfish?
Fell...in love?
"Izuku, it was nice having you here. But there are other people in this world who deserve you more than we do.
And there are other people in this world who you deserve more than us."
With a sad, humble smile, Space ran their fingers through his hair one more time.
"Wait, hold on-"
All the planets, the moons and comets gathered around the one who was meant to be like them. "We're alike, aren't we?"
"Why are you doing this? I-"
"You and I just want to be given a second chance. But you aren't trash like we are. You aren't dead. You still have a chance.
We are alike but in many ways we are different. Go and live, boy. Go and live the life we wished we could've lived. We both have scratch marks, but yours signify something much more powerful than us."
Izuku's eyes started to water as he tried caressing them. But he soon realized they were too big for his hands.
"But you're strong too!"
"It is something neither you or us will understand."
"Momma please-"
They shook their heads, the calm expression they carried soon turned into sadness. "We aren't your mother, sweetie. You cannot call something dead like us your mother."
"What-"
Gravity slowly grabbed him with careful arms and a warmth that felt so lovely, Izuku didn't want them to let go.
"Please don't do this."
"You and I are alike. But now we ask you to leave. Goodbye. We love you and we hope to never leave you."
"Wait! Please don't do this! I swear I won't yell again! I just don't want to leave! Not now, please!"
Space had to wipe their tears as they saw Izuku get carried down by gravity—-his body growing smaller and smaller until he became just a speck of dust.
And then he was gone.
"You deserve better. Back there, you will live and grow. I'm so sorry and please forgive me."
Space hoped that he would find his first mother somewhere where they shouldn't be.
~~~~~
I don't know where I am. All I know is that it's cold and no one is running their hands through my hair.
I want to go back.