Chapter Text
Dead eyes stare back at him, the smell in the alley keeps getting thicker and thicker and it gets harder to breathe, to see, to live…
And even after all of what’s happened, he can’t even say he’s surprised.
He swallows trying to keep the little food he had today inside, the cold and damp wall behind his back, grounding him a little. There is a police siren in the distance and he knows he has to move because it’s getting closer but the static in his ears and the fog in his mind are making it so difficult.
“D-dammit, Intel, get it together,” Izuku says to himself… and blacks out. The next thing he knows, after losing a couple of hours, is seeing the ceiling of his room.
If this was only fiction, this is the moment where the protagonist would talk to the reader and say “You may be wondering how I got here, so let me tell you”, but it’s not.
This is the kind of story where the protagonist, barely fourteen years old, bites his lips with tears running down his face in the dark and screams to himself, just a little because things just went from “downhill” to “absolute hell”.
You and I got here late, we don’t get to be told from the beginning what lead to this… because life goes on, and in the morning he still has to shower and dress and attend online classes and tend to the plants and cook and sweep the floors and pretend as his life depends on it he that doesn’t know anything about what’s going on out there in the streets.
He kisses his mother when she gets home from work, chats with her during dinner, and kisses her again to wish her good night. The clock in the living room reads eleven and a half.
Izuku Midoriya breaths deeply in front of his computer screen, headset already on, and his door locker. As a million times before he logs into the chatroom and starts writing.
“This is Intel. You won’t believe what I got for you today…”