When he picked up that file for the first time, it was like the already creaky foundation of his life came toppling down. Super High School Level Despair. He resisted the burning urge to kill himself right then and there. But in death, someone even as useless as him could become useful. And if there was anything he wanted, it was to be worth something. So he saved his death for another day.
Everything after that became a blur. He looked down at his hands through the foggy plastic glass of a mask. Rubber gloves and a dark bottle. A sob choked in his throat. A pathetic unnecessary sob that he damned to hell. There was no reason to be crying or regretting at a time like this. He was going to become the ultimate hope, Super High School Level Hope. And that was all he could ever ask for. If anything, he should be happy right now. As he poured the poison that would be the end of him, he muffled his tears with a laugh.
Another blink and he was lying down. The industrial floor of a warehouse and the smell if metal. Iron. The smell of blood. The deep gashes in his arm stung perfectly with the fabric of his jacket woven into the wounds from each desperate stab. The tape over his mouth concealed a wretched smile. Soon he would become worth something, if even only a very tiny insignificant something. The knife stabbed through the delicate tendons of his hand, his fingers trembling with their last moments of movement, and the growing fire that had suddenly appeared around him, the perfect backdrop.
The passion of a choir belted, ominous, mellow notes into his ear drums, but he still heard it. His muffled scream, tangled and trapped behind the adhesive that almost ripped at his lips as he tried to hold it in. His abdominal muscles quivered and convulsed as there was now a spear through his stomach.
His thoughts were becoming blurry now…but he knew he must hang on until the fire died out.
He could hear as the fire extinguishers hit the floor and he knew it would be soon. His life he was clinging so desperately to right now, would soon be out of his reach. The poison descended upon him. Creeping into his lungs, burrowing and invading like a black shadow spreading at dusk, wringing him dry of all life, his throat was so dry. His hands moved to grasp at his throat, but found themselves bound and wounded beyond repair.
With the poison, came regret.
Just someone. Someone come find me. Behind the curtain. I don't want to die alone. Mom? Dad? Hinata…?
Surely he should have died by now, but his body still fought for life against his will. He was crying, sour and nonexistent tears, his whole body parched and in need of refreshment.
His thoughts stopped. The pain was gone. The refreshment of death finally came.