You know, I never understood what people meant when they said never meet your heroes.
I mean, they're your heroes right? And if they don't turn out how you would've wanted or how you've seen, than it's good that you meet them, because at least you know that they're a POS.
Well now I know the other scenario: that sometimes they're exactly how they're shown, but you want them to say something that they couldn't say with a straight face because they can't lie to even children because they're so good.
So they let them down easy, think that went well!, then go about the rest of their lives. Meanwhile, I'm scarred for mine.
So thank you, All Might, you were exactly what I hoped you were. And fuck you for the same.
...
When I came back to school, the bullying subsided by a little bit. At least the physical part.
By that I mean that Bakugo stopped beating me up, and just threw stuff at my head. Probably had something to do with the scar on my face.
The explosion had caused a massive scar across my face, going through my eyes. Strangely enough, my eyes made a complete recovery. The same could not be said for my face, and you know what, that was fine. At least when they tried to jump me I didn't have to deal with the competent one. The verbal insults were also fine, as Bakugo was often too busy to actually participate. At least he says. I get the feeling he just didn't want to do it anymore.
I still hated him though. I don't think I'll ever stop, to be honest. I just ... I appreciate the distancing, but it's too little, too late. He was fine doing it before, right? He probably still wants to, but this ...
Ah. Forgot this isn't a visual medium. Just imagine me motioning to my scarred face. Good? Ok, back to the story.
He hasn't had a change of heart, is what I mean. Sorry if it's a bit confusing.
And to be honest, I wouldn't mind the bullying now, if nothing else to feel something.
You see, All Might killed my dream worth facts and logic. What happened next was a domino effect in which I now have no purpose or drive for anything. I mean, I did everything with the intention to be a hero, so now that I know that I can't, there isn't a point in doing anything, honestly. At least I feel that way.
The therapist called it depression, but I don't think it is, since I don't feel like I can't get out of bed in the morning. I don't feel extremely suicidal, or even a little bit, either.
I feel like it's more like I don't have a purpose to keep living. Like I'm just going through the motions, y know? Dying wouldn't be the end of the world for me.
Wait let me look up the meaning of depression.
The therapist was right, damn.
Then they are the dreams.
...
I dream of a man constantly
No, I'm not gay, shut up.
As I was saying, I dream of a man. He has white hair, white skin, and a blue eye and a white eye. Does he have albinism? I ask myself that sometimes. He even has a blindfold, which I think is to stop the sun from burning into his eyes.
It doesn't matter. I dream of him anyways.
In these dreams, he's always fighting. Well I say fighting, but there are some massive air quotes on it, because the whoever he's fighting literally can't.
Fight him, I mean. He literally can't be touched except by what he touches.
I feel like that's could be easily crossed, as the best time to attack him would be when he's touching you, but apparently he also hits like a truck, from what I've seen, so I guess his enemies are too busy trying to stay conscious to capitalize.
Sometimes he'll call out the name of a technique, and space will basically bend around him before an attack that's essentially a middle finger to everything around it except himself.
The techniques vary but the ending is almost always the same: the man running towards me, and power flowing through me.
Then I wake up, tears running down my face.
It's just not fair, you know? To be tormented with the life of someone who has, or had everything you wanted, meanwhile your trying to move on from wanting those things and...
Got a little emotional there.
But he does leave me with something. That being albinism.
My hair has slowly been losing color, with the tips being completely white at this point, and my eyes flash blue for a few minutes after. At least it used to be for a few minutes. Now my eyes go blue and white for a whole hour. My eyes also burn in sunlight at this state, so I've taken to using sunglasses.
I'm honestly a little scared. I don't want to have my body taken over by this literal white savior. I even went to the quirk doctor, who promptly told me that this wasn't due to a quirk either.
So, guess I'll die.
It's been a few weeks since the incident, and I'm just laughing a bit. If I was going to die, why couldn't it have been in a blaze?
I'm writing this now just to give mom something to read if I'm completely overwritten. Or the person who's taking it over wants to know about my life. Why, I don't know. Just want to be remembered is all.
Don't forget about me, whoever's reading, ok? Please remember my life, its all I had to show for 10 years of existence.
Sincerely,
Midoriya Izuku
...
As I finished up the entry, the teacher took my thoughts away from my journal and my mental state.
"Ok, children, I would ask what you want to do in life, but I already know you wanna be heroes, so for today, just write up what you want your hero name to be and how you would run an agency, ok? O-"
"Don't give these losers any hope, teach!" Bakugo shouted, jumping out of his chair and unto the table.
Honestly, it was surprising. He hadn't done anything like this recently. I guess he was feeling the general excitement of the time: a hero has made his debut recently, Kamui Woods I think.
Or he was just an ass. Could be both. He hadn't stopped bullying people after the incident, after all. He just stopped bullying me.
I don't necessarily care, but honestly isn't he more villainous than anything?
Wait why's everyone looking at me? Did I say that out loud? Did I say this out loud?
"No, your just muttering again."
Ok, that's fine. People think it's annoying, but at the same time no one cares enough to actually do anything about it. Kind of like being bullied: no one cares until it's them.
"Sorry about that, um ... what's your name again?"
"Ezio, and it's fine."
"Anyways," some kid from behind me popped up, "You wanna be a hero right Bakugo?"
"Well duh, extra. That's why I want to go to U.A! The best school for the future best hero!" Katsuki said, smirking.
Yeah he's definitely villain material. I'll be surprised if he doesn't get scouted by a conglomerate or something when the sports festival comes, if he gets in at all.
I turned back to my notebook, where I started drawing the man in my dreams. I'd started to get a clearer picture of him, as they became more and more frequent. I mean, might as well, right? It's not like I can do anything to stop him.
This nonchalance must have pissed off my actual bullies, who has kind of downgraded into nuisances when Bakugo had stopped. They weren't necessarily strong (they tried to jump me once and the end result was that I got a talking to for "brutalizing students". I told the teacher that I felt like they had no right to lose that badly in the first place), but they knew about my life to worrying, nigh obsessive degrees.
Like I know I'm stronger than you, but I'm don't even have a quirk, let alone hero fame, so chill out, right? Obsess over a hero or something, damn.
One of them, can't remember his name and I don't care to, had to open his big mouth and say, "Izuku said he wanted to go to U.A as well, right?"
The class stopped dead again.
I slowly turned around, hatred clouding my vision ever so slightly. Or were my eyes still white and blue? I didn't know, and didn't care.
I started planning my counterattack.
The second bully, who's name I probably cared to remember less, started laughing. "I bet he thinks he's gonna be the worlds first quirkless hero, huh? Like his weak ass could even beat a C-tier villain."
"Dude could probably lose to a d-lister with a hand cut off, honestly."
"Right? I swear, it's like his purpose was to be at the bottom of the food chain."
I could see what they were trying to do, and it had started working. The two had good chemistry, and could probably make for good stand up honestly. Already a few people started chuckling.
Even better for me to counter, since they're natural clowns.
"If I'm weaker than a 1-handed d-lister, than what are y'all? You both tried to jump me and I was the one who got put on I've got excessive violence. Either I'm stronger than that, or y'all are E-listers. And I'm not talking high E either."
One of them opened his mouth, trying to retake the crowd, but I interrupted him, laughing to myself a bit.
"I actually almost forgot, how's the wing? Still a little tender? I'm sorry about that, I was just really in the mood for duck that day, and I like it braised."
I started laughing some more, the class joining in. "Although, judging from how you were running away after the attempt failed, you might actually be part chicken!"
"Well doesn't that make you a cannibal then?" One of the bullies asked, but before the class could really think about it, I distracted them.
"Oh you guys are the last to talk about moral interactions with people! I mean, I caught y'all following me to my house! Do y'all have the hots for me or something?"
Whatever argument they had died in their throats as the clowns saw they're life's purpose being fulfilled: getting laughed at. The teacher called for order, and the rest of the day went fine.
Unfortunately, I had to go back home.
When I got back home, mom was waiting for me. She was always waiting for me these days. Not like she could do anything else, of course.
We talked about our days for a bit while I helped get to the bathroom, then get out of the bathroom. Then we had dinner, and I helped mom get to sleep while she tried to use her quirk to move herself.
This was our evening routine that we'd had to do since the incident. If mom is suicidal now, then tough luck, because I told her not to die, so... yeah.
Honestly? I hate seeing her like this. It's not so bad, but seeing my mom, who always at least tried to look strong, have even that taken away from her is crushing. If her quirk was just a bit stronger then she would be able to do so much better for herself.
And how are we going to eat? She can't work and while dying slowly in Japan isn't dying slowly in the US, it's still dying slowly in the Japan.
Whatever. For now, it's time to sleep and pretend my problems don't exist.
...
I dreamed of the man again.
Only this time, he actually talked to me again.
I was watching him do his cool stuff, right? And I was feeling like I was about to wake up, when suddenly I was in the void again, and he was smiling at me.
"Hello, child!" The white haired man said, smiling like he was remembering a great joke.
He wearing a blindfold this time, by which I mean properly wearing it. He always had it on him, but never on his face, at least not now.
"Umm ... are you here to complete the takeover?"
"What?"
"I know that you're trying to take my body, ok?" I said, choking up a bit, tears running down my face, "I can't really do anything to stop it, so just take care of my-"
"What? No, I'm here to teach you my power."
"What?"
"See, I came here from my universe to escape being dead, do I thought I'd just live through your eyes, see your life and all that-"
"So you have come to take over my body?"
"No, lord, how depressed are you? Your ten. Look, what do you want in life? To be a hero, right?"
"But All Might said-"
"And he was right! Batman does not exist, and if he did you still couldn't be him, your too broke and too weak! But-wait don't cry..."
"If your going to take over ... at least be nice to mee ..."
"For the last time, I'm- huuu, calm thoughts, calm thoughts. Look, I can give you the power needed, ok? Do you want that?
"Do you accept me?"
I calmed down as I looked at the man, his hands outstretched. I thought about what had happened in the past few weeks.
I thought about Bakugo, how his power changed him. About how Hisashi, how he broke my mom.
Mom ... I thought about how hard she was working to get her life together, and literally stand on her own two feet again. She had asked me to let her make breakfast again, to flex her abilities to gain greater control and strength. She was already able to control bigger things already, ten pounds more to be exact.
Who was I then, to dishonor her efforts and not get stronger myself?
I grabbed his hand. It was a bizarre feeling: smoother than water, rougher than sand. It was both calloused and smooth, and I wonder if that summed up his personality: acting young while his life and experience betrayed him.
As a blinding light flashed, I wondered if that was the case with everyone's hands and they're life, and how my hands would feel at the end of mine.
