In the dimly lit alleyways of the city, Izuku Midoriya, a middle school vigilante, patrolled the streets, his movements cautious and calculated. His heart raced with a mix of adrenaline and purpose, eyes scanning for signs of trouble.
As he navigated the darkness, danger found him first. The sound of a gunshot echoed through the air, and pain exploded through Izuku's side. He stumbled, fingers tracing the searing wound where the bullet struck.
Grimacing, he tried his best to assess the damage, breaths coming in ragged gasps. He knew he couldn't afford to be caught like this, vulnerable and wounded. Gritting his teeth, he tried to extract the bullet, fingers trembling as he worked, but the bullet was stubbornly lodged, and blood oozed from the wound, staining his uniform. Izuku's vision swam as pain threatened to overwhelm him. He pressed a hand against his side, his chest heaving as he considered his options.
Keep trying to extract the bullet, exasperating the wound with a 80% chance of bleeding out; or clean it as best he can and try to stop the bleeding.
The decision was clear. He gave up on removing the bullet. He wrapped a thick roll of bandages around the wound, doing his best to staunch the bleeding. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet, his steps unsteady as he continued his patrol.
The night seemed endless as Izuku's strength waned, his movements growing sluggish. He avoided trouble as best as he could, ducking into the shadows whenever he felt his energy faltering. He swapped out his bandages a few times, applying disinfectant and antibiotics with shaky hands.
Morning came and despite his injuries, Izuku forced himself to attend school. He was exhausted, his body protesting every step, but he couldn't afford to miss a day. He hid his pain behind a mask of determination, his classmates oblivious to his struggles.
As the day wore on, Izuku's energy waned further. He ducked into the bathroom a few times, redressing his wound in a ritual of pain and determination. His heart raced as he struggled to stay upright, his vision blurring at the edges.
But his determination could only carry him so far. On his way home that night, he was cornered by his bullies, led by the infamous Katsuki Bakugou. Izuku's breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to evade them, but exhaustion and pain slowed him down.
Katsuki lunged forward, his foot connecting with Izuku's side. Pain flared through him, and Izuku stumbled, his blood staining Katsuki's shoes. Katsuki's eyes widened, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.
"What the hell, Deku?" Katsuki's voice was laced with disbelief as he took in the sight of Izuku's bloody side.
Izuku's heart pounded, and adrenaline surged through him. He pushed past the pain, running away before Katsuki could question him further, leaving behind a bewildered and worried Katsuki.
With no home to go back to, Izuku's sheer willpower and an unholy pain tolerance propelled him back onto the streets. He redressed his wound and changed into his uniform with trembling hands, determined to continue his patrol.
Unbeknownst to him, Eraserhead had been trailing him for the past month. The vigilante's slowed movements and the thick scent of blood in the air caught his attention. Concerned, he approached Izuku, his voice a stern command.
"Stop right there."
Izuku froze, his breath hitching as he turned to face Eraserhead. His vision swam, and he swayed on his feet, his determination the only thing keeping him upright.
"You're injured," Eraserhead stated, his gaze sharp.
Izuku's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm fine."
Eraserhead's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. "You're not fine. You need medical attention."
Izuku's breaths came in shallow gasps, his body betraying him. He met Eraserhead's gaze with a defiant glare, his voice shaky but resolute. "I won't go to the hospital."
Eraserhead sighed in exasperation, his patience wearing thin. "Too bad, you're going"
Izuku's heart raced, and he took a step back, his voice a desperate plea. "No, you can't make me. Please... I'll run."
Eraserhead's gaze held a mixture of frustration and concern. He realized that Izuku was serious, that he would rather risk his own life than be caught and taken to a hospital.
With a resigned sigh, Eraserhead relented. "Get in the car."
Hours later, Izuku found himself in Eraserhead's apartment, his wounds finally being tended to. Eraserhead's hands were gentle but efficient, and Izuku couldn't help but wince as the bullet was finally extracted.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" Eraserhead's voice was a mixture of irritation and concern.
Izuku chuckled weakly, his body finally giving in to the pain. "I've been called worse."
Eraserhead finished dressing Izuku's wound, his expression stern. "You can't keep doing this. You're going to get yourself killed."
Izuku's gaze met Eraserhead's, a mixture of determination and exhaustion in his eyes. "I have to make a difference, even if it means risking my own life."
Eraserhead sighed, his gaze softening. "You're too stubborn for your own good."
Izuku managed a weak smile, his body finally succumbing to the darkness. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude. Despite his lack of self-preservation, he had found an unexpected ally—one who understood the depths of his determination and the sacrifices he was willing to make.
——
As Izuku drifted in and out of consciousness, he felt the steady rhythm of Eraserhead's movements—gentle but efficient. He had known Eraserhead for a while now, and despite the vigilante's stubborn nature, there was an unspoken trust that had developed between them. Eraserhead had seen through his facade, understood the fire that burned within him to make a difference.
Hours passed, and Eraserhead finished tending to Izuku's wound. He studied the bandages, his gaze darkening as the reality of the situation sank in. The wound had festered for far too long, the bullet still lodged within. It was a miracle that infection hadn't taken hold.
"You're lucky you didn't get septicemia," Eraserhead muttered, more to himself than to Izuku.
Izuku managed a weak smile, his voice soft. "I guess my luck holds out sometimes."
Eraserhead's gaze hardened, his exhaustion mingling with frustration. He knew that luck could only go so far, especially when it came to injuries like this. He shook his head, his voice laced with exasperation.
"You shouldn't have let it get this bad. You could have died."
Izuku's expression remained serious, his eyes meeting Eraserhead's. "I couldn't risk getting caught. I can't just let people down."
Eraserhead's lips pressed into a thin line, his irritation clear. "You're not doing anyone any favors if you're dead."
Izuku's gaze held a mixture of determination and regret. "I know, but I can't just stand by and do nothing."
Eraserhead's shoulders slumped, his frustration giving way to resignation. He knew that Izuku's determination was unyielding, that there was no changing his mind once he set it on a goal. He sighed, his voice softer.
"I get it, kid. I do. But you need to be smarter about this. You can't keep ignoring your injuries."
Izuku's lips twitched into a small smile, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I appreciate you helping me."
Eraserhead's expression softened, his annoyance tempered by a sense of responsibility. "You're not going to make it easy for me, are you?"
Izuku chuckled weakly, his strength waning. "Sorry."
Eraserhead shook his head, gaze shifting to the bandages one last time. "Get some rest. I'll keep an eye on you."
Izuku nodded, eyes growing heavy as fatigue finally caught up with him. As he drifted into sleep, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security. Despite the pain he had endured and the risks he had taken, he wasn't alone. Eraserhead was there, a constant presence that reminding him he wasn't fighting this battle alone.
And as the hours passed, Eraserhead kept a watchful eye on the vigilante he had come to care for. The exhaustion and gray hairs were a small price to pay for the knowledge that he was making a difference, even if it was just in one stubborn kid's life.
——-
The gentle glow of dawn filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the small apartment. Izuku Midoriya stirred, his body slowly awakening from its restless slumber. As he came to, he felt a sharp ache radiating from his side—the result of the wound he had ignored for far too long.
Groaning softly, Izuku shifted in his makeshift bed, hand instinctively moving to the bandages that covered his wound. The adrenaline that had carried him through the previous night's ordeal had worn off, leaving him acutely aware of the pain that now throbbed through his body.
His brows furrowed, and he winced as he attempted to sit up. The room spun for a moment, and he clenched his teeth against the pain. He was exhausted, drained, his body protesting every movement.
The door to the room opened and Eraserhead entered, his expression stern, yet concerned. He held a small bottle of painkillers and a blanket.
"Good, you're awake," Eraserhead's voice was gruff, but there was an underlying warmth to it.
Izuku managed a weak smile, his voice raspy, "Morning, Aizawa."
Eraserhead arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. "A bit informal, aren't we?"
Izuku chuckled softly, wincing at the pain it caused. "Sorry, Eraserhead."
Eraserhead's smile softened, and he handed the painkillers and blanket to Izuku. "Here, take these. They should help with the pain."
Izuku nodded gratefully, quickly downing the painkillers with a sip of water. He settled the blanket over himself, the warmth a comforting contrast to the ache in his body.
Eraserhead's eyes flickered to the corner of the room, where his cat, Shiro, lounged lazily. "You like cats?"
Izuku's eyes lit up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he watched the cat. "Yeah, I love cats!"
Eraserhead motioned to the cat, a small smile tugging at his lips. "His name is Shiro. He's a bit grumpy, but he's got his moments."
Izuku reached out to Shiro, who approached cautiously before rubbing his head against Izuku's hand. Izuku chuckled softly, his fingers gently scratching behind the cat's ears.
"He's really cute," Izuku said with a soft smile.
Eraserhead nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "So, kid, tell me something. Where are your parents?"
Izuku's expression sobered, his fingers pausing their gentle strokes on Shiro's fur. "I don't have any. They passed away a while ago."
Eraserhead's eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Izuku shrugged, a small smile returning to his lips. "It's okay. I've managed to make my own way."
Eraserhead's gaze remained on Izuku, his voice curious. "How do you manage to get away with staying out all night? I'm sure someone's noticed."
Izuku's smile turned sheepish, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I've gotten pretty good at sneaking around."
Eraserhead shook his head, a mix of exasperation and amusement in his expression. "You're a handful, kid."
Izuku chuckled softly, wincing at the pain it caused. "Sorry for causing trouble."
Eraserhead's gaze softened, his voice gentle. "You're not a burden, you know. Just... be more careful next time."
Izuku nodded, his gratitude shining in his eyes. As he settled back against the pillows, Shiro curled up at the foot of the bed, and a sense of peace settled over him. Despite the pain and the risks he had taken, he wasn't alone. Eraserhead was there, a guiding presence in his life, ready to offer comfort and advice when he needed it most.
——-
As the day wore on, the dull ache in Izuku's side gradually transformed into a sharper pain, and a low-grade fever began to set in. He shifted restlessly in the bed, his body feeling heavier with each passing moment. The warmth of the blanket felt suffocating, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
Eraserhead had been keeping a watchful eye on him, and he noticed the change in Izuku's condition. The vigilante's pale complexion and the slight tremors in his limbs were clear indicators that something wasn't right.
"Kid, you don't look so good," Eraserhead's voice was laced with concern.
Izuku forced a weak smile, though his voice was strained. "I'm... I'm fine, really."
Eraserhead arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You've got a fever. I think you've got an infection."
Izuku's gaze flickered to Eraserhead, a mixture of frustration and worry in his eyes. "I can't stay here. I've overstayed my welcome."
Eraserhead's expression remained stern, his voice firm. "You're not going anywhere like this."
Izuku's breath hitched, and his gaze dropped to his hands, which were clenched in the blanket. He felt trapped—physically by his injuries and emotionally by the guilt of burdening Eraserhead.
"I have to go to school tomorrow," Izuku murmured, his voice barely audible.
Eraserhead's lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze unwavering. "You're in no shape to go anywhere. And I'm not letting you."
Izuku's heart raced, panic rising within him. He couldn't stay here any longer, he couldn't impose on Eraserhead's hospitality. He had to leave, find a way to keep moving forward.
"I... I have to," Izuku's voice trembled, his desperation clear.
Eraserhead sighed, his voice softening. "Kid, you're injured, and you need to rest."
Izuku's fingers clenched tighter in the blanket, his voice a whisper. "I don't want to be a burden."
Eraserhead's gaze softened, and he took a step closer to the bed. "You're not. But I can't let you leave in this condition."
Izuku's eyes welled with unshed tears, his emotions overwhelming him. "I don't know what to do."
Eraserhead reached out, his hand resting gently on Izuku's shoulder. "Just rest for now. I'll take care of you."
The words were a lifeline, and Izuku's resistance finally crumbled. He nodded weakly, allowing himself to settle back against the pillows. The fever made his thoughts hazy, and his body felt heavy and uncooperative.
Eraserhead's presence was a comfort, and as Izuku closed his eyes, he felt himself slipping into a restless sleep.
Hours passed, and when Izuku finally stirred, the room was bathed in the soft glow of evening light. He felt disoriented, his body aching and sluggish. The realization that he was unable to move hit him like a weight, and panic surged within him.
"I have to go to school," Izuku's voice was strained, his breaths coming quicker.
Eraserhead's figure moved into his line of sight, his voice calm and steady. "You're not going to school, kid."
Izuku's heart pounded, his chest tightening with anxiety. He had to leave, he had to find a way out of this situation.
"I'll... I'll call," Izuku's voice trembled as he clung to the desperate hope.
Eraserhead's voice was gentle, yet firm. "Already taken care of."
Izuku's eyes widened, his heart racing. "You... You called the school?"
Eraserhead nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I called Aldera Middle School. Let them know you were involved in a villain attack and won't be able to make it today."
Izuku's breath caught, his thoughts swirling. "Aldera...? How did you...?"
Eraserhead's gaze held a mixture of surprise and understanding. "You had your school id on you. I found it when I was cleaning your wound"
Izuku's eyes filled with tears, his voice a mix of gratitude and emotion. "Thank you."
Eraserhead's lips quirked into a small smile. "Rest for now. I'll make sure you're taken care of."
As Izuku settled back against the pillows, his emotions a whirlwind, he realized that he wasn't alone in this battle, either. Eraserhead had become more than just a mentor—he was a source of guidance, support, and the kind of care that Izuku had never truly experienced before.
—————
As the day wore on, the infection in Izuku's wound continued to worsen. His fever spiked, and his breathing became labored. Despite Eraserhead's best efforts to treat the infection and bring Izuku comfort, there was a growing sense of urgency and concern in the air.
Eraserhead changed bandages, administered antibiotics, and even brought a damp cloth to soothe Izuku's feverish brow. But despite his efforts, it wasn't getting any better.
Izuku's breaths were shallow, and his face was pale and sweaty. The pain was a constant presence, gnawing at him with every movement. He clenched his teeth, trying to hide his pain, but the strain was evident in the lines etched on his face.
Eraserhead's gaze was focused and determined, his voice laced with concern. "Kid, you need to go to the hospital."
Izuku's eyes flickered to Eraserhead, a mixture of fear and stubbornness in his gaze. "I can't."
Eraserhead's voice was firm, bordering on stern. "You're not in a condition to argue, and I'm not going to let you suffer like this."
Izuku's fingers clenched in the sheets, his voice trembling. "I can't go to the hospital. Don't have parents. Can't risk it."
Eraserhead's brows furrowed, his voice gentle. "Not even like a foster family or something?"
Izuku's gaze dropped to his hands, his voice barely audible. "Nope... just me."
Eraserhead's expression softened, and he leaned closer to Izuku. "Wait. So is there anyone you trust? Someone you need to let know you're here?"
Izuku's shoulders slumped, his voice a resigned whisper. "No... there's no one."
Eraserhead's eyes held a mixture of sadness and determination. "Kid, you can't go through life like this. You need someone to look out for you."
Izuku's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I've managed so far."
Eraserhead's gaze was unwavering, his voice filled with concern. "But for how long? You're not invincible, Izuku."
Izuku's breath hitched, and he looked away, his voice distant. "I'm used to it. I've been alone for a while now. It's all I know."
Eraserhead's expression turned to alarm as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Are you... homeless?"
Izuku's shoulders tensed, and he shrugged as if it were a trivial matter. "Yeah, but I've managed to find places to stay."
Eraserhead's voice was urgent, his concern palpable. "Kid, this isn't right. You shouldn't have to go through this."
Izuku's eyes welled with tears, and he shook his head, his voice filled with a mix of emotion. "I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't want pity."
Eraserhead's voice softened, his hand resting gently on Izuku's shoulder. "You're not a burden, Izuku. And asking for help isn't a sign of weakness. It's okay to let someone in."
As Eraserhead's words settled over him, Izuku felt a mixture of fear and hope. He was tired—tired of the pain, tired of the struggle, and tired of being alone. Maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to accept help, to let someone care for him. And as the infection continued to rage within him, he realized that it was a battle he couldn't fight alone.
——-
Despite his weakened state, Izuku's determination remained strong. The mention of the hospital had ignited a spark of panic within him, and he was ready to bolt if Eraserhead made any move to take him there. His fear of being exposed, of being vulnerable, was a driving force that fueled his desperation.
As Eraserhead took a step closer, concern etched on his face, Izuku's heart raced. His limbs trembled as he shifted, ready to make his escape. But just as he began to push himself up, the room spun, and darkness clouded his vision.
The world shifted in a disorienting blur, and when Izuku finally opened his eyes, he was met with a scene that he hadn't expected. He was lying in a pristine hospital bed, the sterile white surroundings a stark contrast to the reality he had grown accustomed to.
A groan escaped his lips as he tried to sit up, only to be met with a sharp pain in his side. And then he noticed it—the bandages, the IV, the heart monitor. His heart raced as he realized that he was in a hospital, a place he had been determined to avoid.
His thoughts raced, his memories fragmented. He had tried to run and now he's here, where ever here is. And then he saw him—Eraserhead, sitting in a chair beside the bed, his gaze focused on Izuku.
"You're awake," Eraserhead's voice was a mix of relief and his usual severity.
Izuku's lips parted, his voice hoarse. "How...?"
Eraserhead's lips quirked into a small smile. "You put up quite the fight. But you passed out before you could get very far."
Izuku's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he looked away, his voice a mumble. "I'm sorry."
Eraserhead's expression softened, his hand resting on Izuku's arm. "You scared me, kid. You almost died."
Izuku's gaze flickered back to Eraserhead, and he saw the genuine concern in the older man's eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice a whisper. "I didn't mean to."
Eraserhead's grip on Izuku's arm tightened gently. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. You can't keep pushing your limits like this."
Izuku nodded, his throat tightening with emotion. He was exhausted—physically, emotionally, and mentally. And for the first time, he allowed himself to accept that maybe he didn't have to face everything alone.
"How... how long have I been here?" Izuku's voice was a mere rasp.
Eraserhead's lips quirked into a small smile. "A few days. You had us worried, but you're going to be okay."
Izuku's eyes widened, surprise and gratitude washing over him. "A few days?"
Eraserhead nodded, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "I talked to the hospital staff, made sure your records were kept confidential. We managed to keep your situation hidden."
Izuku's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and amazement. He had never imagined that anyone would go to such lengths for him.
"And..." Eraserhead's voice grew softer, his gaze steady. "For now, I'm your legal guardian."
Izuku's eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. The realization hit him like a wave, and he looked at Eraserhead, his voice filled with awe. "You... you're my guardian?"
Eraserhead nodded, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "I'm not going to let you slip through the cracks, Izuku. You deserve better than that."
Tears welled in Izuku's eyes, and he couldn't hold them back any longer. He had spent so long feeling alone and forgotten, but here was someone who cared, someone who was willing to fight for him.
As he looked at Eraserhead, the man who had become a pillar of support in his life, Izuku felt a sense of hope bloom within him. He wasn't alone anymore—he had someone who believed in him, who was willing to protect him, and who was there to remind him that he wasn't just a burden to be carried.
——-
As days passed, Izuku's strength slowly returned. The infection that had ravaged his body was finally under control, and the hospital staff marveled at the vigilante's resilience. With Eraserhead by his side, Izuku's recovery seemed smoother, and the white walls of the hospital room began to feel less suffocating.
One afternoon, as the sun cast a warm glow into the room, Eraserhead entered with a smile on his face. "Izuku, I'd like you to meet someone."
Izuku turned his head, his gaze falling on a man with vibrant hair and an energetic presence. The man grinned, his voice cheerful. "Hey there! I'm Hizashi, Aizawa's husband, but most people call me by my hero name, Mic"
Izuku's eyes widened in surprise, his voice a mixture of awe and gratitude. "It's nice to meet you, Mic."
Mic's smile was infectious, and he reached out to shake Izuku's hand. "Likewise, kiddo. You've got quite the reputation, you know. Surviving all you have, you're one tough cookie."
Izuku's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he chuckled softly. "I've just been... lucky, I guess."
Mic's gaze turned to the door, and he beckoned someone inside. "And this is our son, Hitoshi Shinso."
Izuku's eyes landed on a young man with dark hair and a sense of determination in his eyes. He watched as Hitoshi entered the room, his gaze meeting Izuku's with a mix of curiosity and interest.
"Hey," Hitoshi's voice was quiet, his demeanor cautious.
Izuku offered a small smile. "Hi."
Mic's voice was full of pride as he introduced them. "Hitoshi is training to become a hero, he has a brainwashing quirk."
Shinso's gaze held a sense of camaraderie as he looked at Izuku. "I heard you're a vigilante. That's pretty cool."
Izuku's smile widened, his voice earnest. "It's not really that cool, I mean your quirk is so much cooler! Do you mind if I ask you about it later? Quirk analysis is kinda my thing."
Shinso's lips quirked into a half-smile, and he sat down in a chair beside the bed. "I guess. As long as I can ask you questions first".
Izuku smiled in excitement, "Ask away!"Shinso hesitated but finally gathered the courage to ask his question. "Did you really survive a whole day with an untreated bullet wound?"
Izuku's cheeks turned pink, and he scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I guess I'm just too stubborn to die."
Shinso chuckled softly, a sense of understanding passing between them. "Yeah, I get that."
As the days passed, Shinso and Izuku began to bond over shared experiences. They had both faced bullies, struggled with their identities, and fought against the odds. Shinso was intrigued by Izuku's quirklessness, admiring his determination to make a difference despite the challenges he faced.
Meanwhile, Izuku's strength returned little by little, until he was finally deemed well enough to leave the hospital. Eraserhead's guidance and Mic's infectious energy had created an environment of support and care that Izuku had never known before.
As he stood by the window, looking out at the world beyond, Izuku felt a mixture of gratitude and hope. He wasn't alone anymore—he had a new family, people who believed in him and were willing to stand by his side. And as he took his first steps outside the hospital, he knew that the journey ahead would be a new chapter in his life—one filled with challenges, growth, and the unwavering support of those who cared for him.
——————
Izuku's return to school wasn't what he had hoped for. He had spent days in the hospital recovering, finding a semblance of hope and comfort in his new makeshift family, but the reality of the outside world, the world he had tried so hard to navigate, was as harsh as ever.
Walking through the school gates, he could feel the weight of the stares and whispers that followed him. The memory of Bakugou's furious expression when they had last seen each other hung heavy in his mind. And now, as their eyes met across the courtyard, Izuku could see the mixture of anger and relief in Bakugou's gaze.
Bakugou stormed toward him, his steps deliberate and full of purpose. Before Izuku could react, Bakugou's fist connected with his jaw, the force of the blow sending him staggering back.
"You fucking idiot!" Bakugou's voice was a mixture of rage and something that Izuku couldn't quite place.
Izuku's head spun, pain radiating from where Bakugou had hit him. He raised his hands defensively, his voice shaky. "Kacchan, I..."
But Bakugou wasn't listening. He unleashed a flurry of blows, his anger manifesting in each strike. Izuku tried to protect himself, tried to block the hits, but Bakugou's onslaught was relentless.
As Bakugou's fists rained down on him, Izuku felt a mixture of pain and confusion. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different after everything he had been through. But here he was, battered and broken, bearing the brunt of Bakugou's frustration.
Eventually, Bakugou stopped, his chest heaving with exertion. He glared down at Izuku, his voice harsh. "You disappeared, you dumbass. I thought... I thought you were dead."
Izuku's chest tightened at the admission, at the raw emotion in Bakugou's eyes. But before he could say anything, Bakugou turned and walked away, leaving Izuku bloody and battered in the middle of the courtyard.
As if sensing Izuku's vulnerability, a group of bullies gathered around him, their laughter and taunts filling the air. The blows rained down, and Izuku's vision blurred with pain and tears. He had hoped that maybe things would be different, that the darkness he had faced would finally begin to lift. But instead, he found himself once again caught in a cycle of torment and despair.
When the bell finally rang, signaling the beginning of the school day, Izuku struggled to his feet, his body aching and battered. He stumbled through the empty hallways, his steps unsteady. The teachers didn't care, their disdain evident in the way they ignored him or berated him for his absences.
His determination wavered, his hope fading with each passing moment. He had faced so much, fought so hard, and yet it seemed like the world was determined to keep him down. The weight of it all pressed down on him until he felt like he was suffocating.
As the day went on, a heavy cloud of despair settled over him. It didn't leave him as he walked home, so he slapped on a fake smile and called it a day. It stuck around the next day, and the day after that. The constant struggles, the feeling of being trapped, and the relentless torment wore on him. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of it all, and he believed that he had no way out.
One afternoon, after school had ended, Izuku found himself in a secluded area of a local park. His thoughts swirled with a reckless decision that he hoped would bring him some form of relief. He had to find an escape from the pain that had taken over his life.
As he stood at the edge of the cliff, his heart pounding, he considered taking that fateful step. But just as he began to inch closer to the edge, a voice rang out, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "Hey! Stop!"
Izuku froze, his heart racing as he turned to see a group of strangers approaching him. They were his age, and he could tell they were from the same school, but he didn't recognize them. Among them was a girl with bubblegum pink hair and a determined expression.
"Are you okay?" the girl asked, concern evident in his voice.
Izuku's mind raced as he tried to come up with an explanation. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, but the presence of these strangers had caught him off guard.
"I'm fine," Izuku mumbled, his voice shaky.
The girl's gaze didn't waver, her eyes narrowing as she assessed him. "You don't look fine. You were about to do something dangerous, weren't you?"
Izuku's heart sank, realizing that his desperation hadn't gone unnoticed. He looked away, his voice barely audible. "It's... it's none of your business."
The girl's expression softened, and she took a cautious step forward. "Listen, I don't know you, but no one deserves to feel like this. We can't just stand by and watch you hurt yourself."
Izuku's throat tightened, and he struggled to hold back his emotions. He had expected judgment or indifference, but these strangers were showing him a level of concern that he hadn't anticipated.
Another boy from the group spoke up, his voice gentle. "We don't want you to go through this alone. You don't have to."
As Izuku looked at their faces, a mix of unfamiliar faces filled with genuine concern, he felt a crack in the walls he had built around himself. These strangers were reaching out to him, offering support when he needed it most.
The girl extended her hand toward him, a gesture of empathy. "I'm Mina, and this is Eijiro and Momo. We're just... worried about you."
Tears welled in Izuku's eyes as he looked at their outstretched hands, realizing that maybe he didn't have to face everything alone. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and took Mina's hand.
And as they stood there on the edge of that cliff, facing the darkness together, Izuku realized that he had encountered a lifeline—an unexpected group of strangers who cared enough to step in when he needed it most.