Feeling a bit tired and out of it but then I remembered i didn't post last week so I owe you guys one :]
He was always strong. Always very bold.
My, how proud his mother must be to see him all grown up. What a nice young man he was during his stay—-though, he acted just like a child. Deserved a whooping for not wanting to leave.
Though, kids like that one can be so hateful to themselves. If I had strength like him, I would rule the world! Lord, the gods would bow down in our presence just by going through such things and still be standing.
How much we wanted to knock some sense into that boy. Hilarious.
We've seen everything. From the first astronaut to ever land foot on the moon, to the clouds that covered bodies of water. Or those big bodies of land that are out of the lines yet are still somewhere where people live.
We've seen everything. Even those strange creatures that weren't humans. Who knows what those things were, could've been what people call "aliens".
I've seen fire and ice from so many planets and so many stars. Do people even know how amazing it is for Jupiter to have seventy-nine moons?! That's more moons than people's fingers, hands and feet.
One step on Uranus and you're as frozen as ice. One step on Mercury and you might as well be toast, my dear. But never have I seen someone as powerful as this one I met one strange day where it seemed that the gods teased us more than usual and the box seemed smaller than usual.
Remember when you kids would get back home from a hot day, turn on the AC and stand in the air? Remember when your mom told you to back off a bit because it would make you sick? How your body goes from hot to cold causing your body to have some sort of effect?
He's been on both fire and ice. He's been through hell and back. On and off. Drowning and breathing. Light and dark. Hot and cold. Bruised and scarred. Tortured and beaten physically and emotionally. Tossed around by the universe as if he was a cursed thing.
Alive and dead. This child has seen it all. So how could he have the audacity to think of himself as weak?
"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?"
Izuku Midoriya is so strong...he deserves the world in his hands.
He has yet to see it though. But alas, we fear as though we are not the appropriate thing to tell him such a thing.
If only he saw himself the way we saw him.
The day we die, I hope he lives a good life.
If we don't make it, tell him for us, would you my dear?Tell him that if he doesn't find us in the sky, he will find us in the center of his gold he never knew he cherished.
Thank you, my dear.
***
It's cold.
The warmth I felt just a few moments ago is gone. As if I had fell from their arms onto the ground. The ground with cold concrete and dead leaves.
I remember falling.
Falling so fast, I wanted God to hold my life and his hands because I didn't trust my own body in doing so. But when I woke up, I wasn't on top of cold concrete or dead leaves. I was on top of a pillow too hard and a mattress too cheap. I'm grateful that my head didn't hit a rock, but it's still cold.
I'm cold and alone. Without momma to hold me safely in their darkness. Without anybody.
Alone.
I remember when this one boy used to hold my hand when I would wake up from a nightmare. His hand was warm—-a bit rough but warm all the same. Yet, there was this other hand I remember holding. Not hand—-hands.
One hand was warm, like a fireplace. But the other one was cold, like ice. I think I remember confusing them. Forgetting which one to hold for warmth and which one to hold for cold. I know, weird right?
Who would want to hold the cold side?
My eyes are still trying to adjust to the lighting, the white light looking back down at me as if it were a hawk. Everything feels numb. As if I were decapitated and the only reaction I got was from the tip of my hair down to my chin.
After that, I felt nothing.
Why couldn't I feel anything?
Why did momma leave?
Why am I being held hostage against the white light?
Why don't I remember anything?
Why?
Why?!
I try moving the rest of my body. Because for Pete's sake I still have a body, right? I remember running around the sun. Or floating with my legs dangled from the sky as if the platform I was on was invisible. I even remember how my hands desperately tried grabbing theirs as everything went blank and the lullaby that was once on repeat left my ears so carelessly I swore it didn't care.
I remember so much...but so little.
I start to scream, my mouth opening as wide as I can as I put as much pressure to emit some kind of sound. But soon, I realized the only thing I was letting out was the unnecessary carbon dioxide.
Damn it why the hell can't I do anything? What am I, weak?!
Soon, I put as much effort as I can, my eyes squeezing shut as I try concentrating on the rest of my body. My arms, my hands, my fingers, my legs, anything. I want the numbness to leave, I want to feel.
I want to feel.
Suddenly, just as I was about to give up, I feel. I feel my hands—-or fingers, slowly moving with stiffness as I hold back groans of pain. Gosh, it hurts. It hurts so bad.
I then realize that it was in fact my fingers I was moving. My index finger slowly moves as the bones and joints inside my flesh ache at every movement.
Then, out of nowhere I hear shuffling. At first, I think that's me, which makes me gasp though I make no noise. But it wasn't me.
It was a boy.
He was sitting in a chair, eyebags completely visible with clothes that looked old. Though, his eyes were wide. Eyes that look a bit sad and a bit shocked I start to wonder if it's because of me.
"You..."
He looks like he's about to cry.
"You selfish bastard."
And like lightning, he grabs me. He grabs me so tightly I feel the bit of air gravity hasn't taken away from me leaving me. I feel his fist clutching on my clothes, his breath raggedy and this sudden feeling of abandonment washing over me—-tumbling my soul to the point all I can do is stare at the wall in front of us both.
"I-"
He can't finish his own sentence as his words clog up in his own choked up sobs. I don't know what is happening. I dont know why he's crying. Why is he crying? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt him?
Was I selfish without noticing?
His tears make my shoulder feel damp. And for once I thank this strange man for making the dumbness disappear with his own tears.
"I hate you so much, Deku."
Is that what he calls me? Deku? He says he hates me, b-but it feels like every moment that passes he hold on to me tighter than before. As if I'm going to leave. If he hates me, why is he hugging me? H-he's supposed to hate me, so then why is he here?
Why is he waiting for me?
Momma said that someone is waiting down here. That unlike over there, someone is waiting for me with open arms and warm embrace.
Is this the person momma was talking about?
"Why..."
"Why did you leave? Why the hell did you leave?!"
He's crying even more now, and for Pete's sake I want to cry too.
His tears splatter onto my arm, which slither down to my hands leaving a trail of feeling. But not only do I feel my arms, I feel the raw dark scribbles of being alone in a dark box with regret and self hatred, the only one to accompany you.
It makes me sick.
And when his tears pile up on my hand, all I can feel is holding the fragile soul of someone who just wants to help the one who left.
"Why Deku, why?! I just wanted to help. I just wanted to help you. You're strong, but you're not invincible! Don't play hero all on your own. I'm here too ya know?!"
I can hear the voices as clear as day—-as strong as a bell at twelve o clock. The voices that slowly harmonize a simple tune that put all the pieces together to the point it's too obvious not to notice.
You are strong.
You are so strong.
He just wants to get your strength back.
Katsuki wants to see you fight for yourself.
Enough of the days where lights blind you and hollow souls hover over you.
Enough of the days where you sell your soul to another so that the words in your mouth leave to dance in their hearts.
Enough of the days where it seems as though drowning is all you do.
Get up. That is not a request, that is an order. Get up and get going. It may be cold but put your damn sweater on. Screw the people who find you weak. Step on the people who have tormented you.
You are strong. Open your fucking eyes and see that! The mountains can bow down to you with the snap of your fingers.
You're so strong to the point you waisted all your strength. So now I tell you this: all Katsuki wants to do is help you because he knows how much you've been helping others.
Heroes save others don't they? But who's going to save the heroes?
I remember that every moment I woke up to the minute I would go to bed, I was in such a constant fear that somewhere in this world there would be people needing my help. And I wouldn't be able to do anything.
There was this feeling hovering over me like a mother I never knew, taunting my every move. A feeling that made me feel useless. Weak. Disappointing. Unwanting. As if fear itself made me tremble in my boots, dropping everything just to kneel down to it.
And I hate that about me.
I wanted to save. I wanted to see fear bow to my feet. I wanted to feel how it was like to save someone and at the same time, save the entire planet. But it seems like I have wasted my strength on someone who took the words out of my mouth.
As my memories come back to me, I hear muffled noises. I hear one voice—-one that I've heard of but not so often. Voices that I've never heard and one yell that sounds so wounded I wonder if I'm about to cry too.
***
"Sir you need to let go of him!"
"Bakugou, let go of him now!"
"Fuck off bastards!"
Screams, tears, anesthesia.
It seems as though they never got enough of it.
Mika pulled him off of the other man still in a daze, tried to ignore the demands to let go of him. Yet, as much as Mika would so comply, they knew that Bakugou did the little he swore to do. Even if time was limited.
'Let me go damn it! That bastard is all alone! Who the hell is going to be with him when he wakes up?!'
'The moment he wakes up, make sure I don't kill him.'
'Alright. I hope he hears you loud and clear.'
For some reason, after a moment, Bakugou didn't fight. As if he too had understood the moment he had to value. So when he collapsed onto the chair, Mika spoke up.
"The nurses take good care of him. You're the one who has to stop hogging all up on him, he just woke up," they said, rolling their eyes as Katsuki huffed.
"He was lucky I didn't kill him. That damn nerd, always getting on my nerves."
"But you care for him, don't you?" Katsuki paused at their words, turning around to glare at Mika as if they said the most sinful thing ever.
"Heh?!"
Mika sighed, Katsuki's ego pissed them off by the second. "You care for Midoriya even if he gets on your nerves. I won't say it again."
It was like if little explosions were going off right there in the hospital. "The hell, eyebags?! Mind your own business would ya? Why do you care whether or not I care for that nerd or not?!"
Mika was so done with that. "Because you're big fat ego pisses me off so I'm trying to tell you to fix it," they said, wanting those nurses to hurry up so that the grouchy man right beside them would leave.
Katsuki at that point was throwing a tantrum, he too wanted the nurses to hurry up so that he wouldn't have to talk to the person he so despised. On top of that, they were getting onto his business!
"Shut up, eyebags. You piss me off," he muttered finally, all pouty looking and all. Mika couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "That's all you have to say? Pretty sure that our beloved Pro-Hero Dynamite had something else up his sleeve."
That sentence made his blood boil. For just a second, Mika could sense that something wasn't right. Did I say something wrong-
"Where is he?! Where is my child?!"
Both of their heads turned, only to face a little woman with a face no mother should have.
"Where is my child?! Where is Izuku? I need to see him. Is he ok? Is he hurt? Is he breathing? Tell me he's ok—please!"
Katsuki got up from his seat, found it in him to face the mess of a woman.
No mother should have this face. Tch.
"He's fine. Stupid nurses take too long checking up on him is all." The scruffiness of his voice combined with the sort-of-kindness told Inko to calm down. Her sobs slowly calmed to a whisper while Katsuki awkwardly pat her arm.
Mika got up next, bowed down to Inko and said, "Your child and his justice are in good hands. I'm very sorry that you had to deal with this." They looked up, dark circles meeting droopy eyes.
Out of nowhere, they snatched Katsuki towards them, made him hiss at the sudden pull. With a stern look he was forced to bow as well.
"Both me and Bakugou swear that he will no longer live the way he did. We swear, Midoriya-San, your son will get the life he never got."
The words that escaped their mouth sounded like so much more than they had expected. It covered the letter besides the pretty sunflowers and the pumpkin pie. It covered the sad scent of a sad reunion.
One Inko could never remember with a straight face.
She struggled to say the next few words, her nose crinkled at the thought of her son never being safe. It was either the other mother or the mob that would never stop chasing her or Izuku. The mob that would stand in front of the hospital everyday with prepeared insults and practiced yelling.
Yet, Mika swore. They promised.
"Thank you."
Maybe if she couldn't, Katsuki and that young lady-
"Midoriya-San. I go by they/them pronouns," Mika said, as if they read Inko's mind just like that. Only, they didn't.
Inko stared at them concerned, until Mika cleared their throat. "You were mumbling, Midoriya-San."
~~~~~
"His memory is a bit choppy. Some things he may remember while some thing he will not. To make things simpler for you, water traveled to his brain and other places where it shouldn't have been causing coma and memory loss. He will be a bit frail for a few days—possibly weeks. However, it is possible for him to gain back most of his memory—if not all. Please make sure someone is with him."
So, Izuku had been in a coma for a month. To everybody's surprise, Izuku could hardly remember the sound of his own mother's voice.
"Do you remember me? Do you remember me, Izuku?" Inko asked, tears streamed down her face, a nervous and broken smile barely hanging on her face.
"Izuku, do you remember me? I'm your mother. I'm your mom, Inko," she said, grabbing his hands like the last thing on earth. Her hands trembled while Izuku's tired eyes looked up and down at the woman in front of him.
"Damn it, Deku! That's your mom! How the hell do you not remember?!" Katsuki yelled, fists clenched with tears of his own threatening to spill. How could he? How could he commit something so horrible and not notice?
How could Izuku forget?
Izuku felt the pressure pile up on him like heavy bricks. He squeezed his eyes shut, tired to search for that memory somewhere in his mind. Tried to remember life with a beautiful lady—one with long, silky green hair, emerald eyes like his own, and warm hands that were holding onto him.
Damn it, he thought to himself.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
He blinked, concentrated on the only thing that mattered at that moment. He had a mother. One with green hair, green eyes and warm hands.
Inko tried to hold in a sob, "Izuku, look at me please." Izuku complied, looking at her straight in the eyes with trembled lips. On the other hand, Katsuki stood there, holding a heavy heart he wanted to smack Izuku across the face.
Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.
"Do you remember the time when you and I went to the park?" She began. "You had on a pair of little red shoes along with a little red book bag. Do you remember All Might? He was a famous Hero. You admired him so much to the point that that day you wore a little All Might shirt," she laughed at the thought, making Katsuki squeeze his eyes shut.
"Inside that book bag, you had a coloring book. When you got to the park, there was a little boy there. You and him were friends since you both were babies. And every time, the both of you would go under one specific red slide. All I heard were little giggles and crayons clacking."
Mika had gone out to the hallway before that conversation had begun, accidentally listening to a few phrases here and there.
"Or when you would go under one plastic tunnel, and pretend you both were heroes. All I could see was a bunch of green and blonde hair poking from the end of the tunnel, letting me know you've both won," Inko smiled, eyes shut as her thumb caressed Izuku's scarred hands.
"Do you remember now, Izuku?" She asked then, her hand slowly going to his hair, patting him tenderly and ever so softly.
Izuku couldn't take it anymore. He shut his eyes one last time.
Momma...
He opened his eyes and smiled such a pitiful smile. His throat still hurt, everything hurt if he was being honest. He still couldn't talk as much, though he had so much to say.
His answer was small and short. Yet deadly, numb and blue.
"No..."
Inko's soft cries filled the room, accepting her fate. After she slowly got up and made her way out the door, Katsuki too 'out of it' to hold her back. Izuku wanted to ask her to come back, to sit back down in front of him and hold his hands. He wanted to ask her to caress his hair next, to wait. To be patient. Because he was so close yet so far. He just needed one little push.
As Inko grabbed the doorknob, she flashed Izuku a smile. "It's alright Izuku. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the next. But I promise you, one day you will remember the park, the sunflowers and the pumpkin pie. And it won't be sad, but a happy reunion."
She left without another word, leaving Izuku's mouth dry and Katsuki to give him water.