Author's Note:
Before you start this chapter, I want to disclose there will be a deeper focus on self-harm and suicidal ideation in this chapter. If those topics are triggering to you, please do not read. I unfortunately can't direct every country to helpful resources, but for those who live in the United States as I do, please don't hesitate to reach out if you are having similar thoughts. These are only a few of the many resources available, not to mention your local healthcare settings.
SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) Website- .gov/
National Suicide Prevention Helpline: 1-800-273-8255 or /
Thank you.
"We are built to feel those emotions, both good and bad; it's how we process them that is most important. I would like to talk with you about what and how you're feeling, and I'd like you to be open with me about everything."
Uraraka chewed the inside of her cheek, a poor coping mechanism she never outgrew. She pondered the words carefully, shifting between the calm of Yagi's timbre and the shrill protest of her own inner monologue. She kept her gaze locked on his, unable to look away from the cerulean orbs waiting patiently for her response.
Why is he acting like he cares? It's not like you're Deku or Bakugo- to All Might, you're just another face among the crowd of subpar quirks.
How Uraraka wished she could break the needle off the record player of her mind. The deprecating voice barked down her neck constantly, fueling the self-loathe burning in her bones. More days than not, she felt at war with herself on if she would be content or find fault in her existence. Today, her thoughts had reflected the latter. Nothing she did was right and corroborated the persistent argument that she was a waste of time and resources. How can one be expected to unload such macabre thoughts on the personification of light, justice and peace?
Across from her, Yagi laced his fingers together and brought them under his chin; thin elbows rested on parted knees as he leaned forward in his seat. A warm smile was faint on his lips, its softness stark against his sharp features. His eyes still burned bright from his question she'd yet to answer, but his demeanor bled patience and concern.
Look what you got yourself into, you stupid girl.
"Would you like to talk about this somewhere else?" Yagi questioned softly. "While it's still too early for most students to be awake, there's still the chance someone could unintentionally interrupt this conversation."
Oh. She looked around the lobby of the commons area until she spotted a large clock on the wall- 5:09 AM. A lump in her throat denied her breath- she had withheld him from his own rest for almost four hours due to her meaningless feelings. Her friends would begin stirring soon with the zeal of a new day and she had spent the night being useless again. She coughed lightly and plastered a mock smile to her face, "N-no, but thank you, sensei. You've already helped so much, but I should let you get what little sleep you can before the day begins."
Yagi easily saw the strings attached to her grin. He allowed his hands to drop from his chin, resting them on his thighs as he sighed, "Uraraka." The sound of her name caused an involuntarily bristle to course through her spine as her lips twitched. "I am fine- however, my concern is for you. I can arrange for you to talk to another teacher if you are uncomfortable discussing these stressors with me, or we can arrange sessions with a wonderful trauma-based therapist-"
"No!" Uraraka was just as surprised as Yagi by her outburst. She fumbled under her blanket until she was upright, "I don't mind talking to you at all, Yagi-Sensei, I promise! You have been so helpful, and I am okay now!" She squirmed under the weight of his furrowed brow, turning her face away. Her heart was heavy as she whispered to herself, "Also, therapy would be a waste of time and money anyway."
Such a burden! A useless 'hero'.
Yagi suddenly wished there was a way to Detroit Smash every negative thought from her psyche. He knew he wasn't meant to hear her hushed commentary, but he could no longer ignore the waving red flags. The drive he felt to protect his pupil from the villains in her mind pushed him to his feet, "I will help you if you wish to seek a therapist, but I cannot force your hand in that regard. As much as an outside perspective can benefit, it's a very difficult first step to take."
Uraraka's head snapped to where Yagi stood when his outstretched hand grazed her hair for a moment. The touch was brief but sorely missed when he pulled away. She studied his face as he continued, "While I can't mandate professional help, as your teacher, I will not let you suffer by yourself any longer. If you say you are comfortable with me, then let me in."
He held his hand out to her again, expectantly. The teen's brain was en guard, but her heart ached under his pleading expression. She felt the heat of her emotions spread across her face- anger, sadness, confusion, pain. Uraraka felt so much in so little time, her head felt feathery. She swallowed her pride before hesitantly placing her hand into Yagi's; it disappeared in in his grasp as he assisted her to her feet with surprising strength.
Uraraka squeaked in surprise when instead of breaking contact, Yagi maintained a firm hold, leading her out of the room. "Sensei, what are you doing?"
Yagi glanced over his shoulder apologetically, "It looked like you were going to run if I didn't hold on."
That was exactly what she'd planned on doing; it was known throughout campus that Yagi was not as powerful as he was following his battle at Kamino, and Uraraka was sure she could have put enough distance between them if given the chance. Where she would have gone if she'd been able to run, she hadn't thought through, but it would've prolonged the looming conversation.
As much as she adored her teacher, she could not inconvenience him with her problems.
You idiot. You're going to drag him down with you if you don't get away. You would've been better off if you'd had the guts to go through with your plan.
Uraraka vainly pulled against Yagi when she recalled the fleeting thoughts recently plaguing her head. While she had not reached out to grab at any specific one, the last few weeks had brought with it ideas. The first thoughts of self-inflicted wounds surprised her, and she shoved them away. As time carried on, she eventually caved, and the sense of control she found drawing a blade against the canvas of her skin became captivating. The rush of red-hot pain became a high she could chase but could not push herself to fully realize.
After all, death in all its glory is still a finite process.
Who would expect the bubbly, cheerful classmate to have ravaging demons in her closet? Uraraka spent years shoving them into the recesses of her mind because the acknowledgement of something being wrong with her terrified her. She worked on her smile and perfected the art of hiding behind a positive mask because she didn't want pity. Uraraka had heard the comments people made about those who inflicted self-harm or suicide:
S/he was such a kind person. They were always so happy. This was not expected. Why would they want to hurt/kill themself? It gets better. If only they knew how much they were cared for…
She used to hate those comments. While she understood the concern laced in their words, they could not see how much Uraraka deserved this punishment. Everything around her happened outside her ability, but she found leverage in the little marks she placed on herself. Superficial scratches lined areas shielded under clothing, light enough to fade with time but heavy enough to release the dopamine her brain desperately craved. It had taken time to find a median once she overcame the initial turbulence of her actions, the vivid memory of drawing a broken razor too deep along the dip of her hip still fresh in her mind.
Uraraka did not necessarily enjoy hurting herself, but she could not deny the exhilarating release it brought. She had put the habit away in middle school and only found herself relapsing a month ago; like a moth drawn towards a flame's flicker, her run in with the Yakuza lead her back to the blade's edge. The recent marks over her hipbones ached dully, and she considered scratching the area in hopes of breaking her skin again.
"We're here."
Yagi did not let go on her hand, but his words brought Uraraka away from her thoughts. She blinked, completely unaware of how her feet obeyed as he led her to… Wherever they were. She sent a worried glance to the taller figure as panic bubbled under her skin. Meeting the fear in her eyes, his expression softened with a smile, "You are in my apartment. When you wouldn't answer me on where you wanted to talk, this was the only place I could think of where we could speak uninterrupted."
Uraraka's eyes widened at the thought of being alone with a teacher in his apartment; while the logical part of her brain knew Yagi was a gentle giant, the irrational voice that had been winning most arguments lately screamed danger.
He's going to learn about your dirty secrets! He's going to ostracize you- maybe even hurt you- once he realizes you're the reason his former sidekick is dead! Don't you think the "former" Symbol of Peace could break you into pieces without too much issue if he really wanted to? Don't you think he could make you suffer if he unleashed the hate he has to feel for-
"Please, no."
The older man quickly picked up on her panic, bringing his hand away from hers and waving his arms frantically, "Please don't fret! Aizawa-san is well aware of where you are, and on my honor as a former hero and Symbol of Peace, you are safe here." He fished his phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen to show her the open conversation. Despite seeing the string of texts between Yagi and Aizawa, she found it hard to think.
The young girl was in a faculty dorm on the other side of the campus with her teacher, who happened to be the former Symbol of Peace that knew she was one wrong turn away from the deep end. She was directly linked with the death of one of his closest colleagues…
Suddenly, everything was very, very real.
Uraraka was in danger.
Oh, how she hated facing down her demons. They curled into horrifically fascinating shadows along the crevices of her mind, luring her as a sheep to the slaughter. She knew their names just as they knew hers, calling to her, screaming until her every fiber grew weary. Could she truly share them with Yagi without jeopardizing her future? Would he consider her insane? Would he think she was overthinking the whole situation and see how worthless she was? Worse, would he blame her too? Would he hurt her?
Of course he will. He already sees you're weak.
Curling her fingers into tight fists, it took everything in Uraraka to not scream at her brain to shut up. Yagi-sensei would not hurt me. Her feet were planted against his living room floor, otherwise she would have tried to fling herself out of his abode. Her nails dug against her palm as she tightened her fists, the wound under her dressing throbbing under their pressure. It felt good- no, it felt great.
Eyes widening, Yagi immediately grabbed her hands, wedging his fingers into hers when he registered her movement. He winced when Uraraka's nails bore into his knuckles, the action meant for her own flesh. Immediately, Uraraka stiffened under his wild glare, his stance intimidating as it hovered over her. His voice was cold when spoke, "You were trying to hurt yourself, weren't you?"
Oh no. Oh no, no, NO, NO! You stupid girl!
"Y-Yagi-sensei, I am so sorry! That was not meant to happen to you-" Words were falling haphazardly from her mouth, eyes darting towards his knuckles to avoid the scrutiny branding her, "I don't see any marks, thankfully! I guess I didn't realize-"
"Don't." Uraraka's heart shattered at the hurt in her teacher's voice. Every word threatening to spew from her mouth was swallowed dryly as she watched their hands tremor- was she shaking, or was he? "You've done this to yourself before. Haven't you?"
The world stopped spinning. The only things audible in the room were Uraraka and Yagi's breaths. Her tongue, once loquacious now felt like lead behind her teeth.
He pressed on, "Uraraka. I need you to tell me. Have you been hurting yourself?"
Useless! You can't even punish yourself right.
The look of terror on Uraraka's face was all the response Yagi needed to make the remains of his stomach plummet. He exhaled through his nose to steady his nerves, his voice barely above a whisper, "You have."
Before Uraraka could counter, Yagi had taken hold of one of her wrists, pulling the fabric of her sleeve up to examine her skin. When he was met with smooth porcelain flesh, he repeated the process with her other arm. "Where have you been hurting yourself?" His eyes searched hers, worry creasing his face like that of a concerned parent as he pressed on, "Uraraka, I need to know what has been done. Please."
Her heart was beating mercilessly in her chest, pulse rushing into her ears and clogging her mind. Uraraka wanted to scream out every emotion coursing through her until she couldn't feel anything anymore. She was angry at herself for being so useless and for pulling Yagi into her chaotic bubble. She was despondent with her life as it careened out of control. She was surprised with how transparent she felt when deep blue eyes read between every lie she attempted to hide behind. Overall, she felt overwhelmed with how his gentle gestures and demeanor conflicted every argument raging in her skull. Why does Yagi-sensei act like he cares?
"Because I do." Yagi leaned forward until his face was level to hers, an unreadable expression on his face. Uraraka hadn't meant to lament aloud, but now she could not avoid Yagi's piercing gaze. So much power hid behind those eyes, but he continued to regard her delicately as he murmured, "I just don't understand why you don't care about yourself, my dear."
The cracks in her facade were beginning to splinter, and she was afraid she would crack at any time. Uraraka twiddled her lip between her teeth to take her mind off the sting of tears along her lashes. "Please just let me go, Yagi-sensei. I won't bother anyone anymore."
"Not without answers." Despite a long career filled with confrontation as All Might, Yagi hated it. People were unpredictable when their freedom in a situation was removed, especially concerning their mental wellness. Throughout the years, All Might had assisted talking down some who were down on their luck- many had stepped down from their ultimatum and into the arms of awaiting help.
Some had not. He knew he was being overbearing on Uraraka, but he understood the consequences if she was allowed to walk away. All Mi- no, Yagi, remembered those who stepped into the embrace of death even after all this time. He recalled 21-year-old college student Haruko Rin's haunted eyes before she faded below the edge of the Rainbow Bridge, 49-year-old Japanese businessman Naka Sato's lips forming soundless words after pulling the trigger, the screams of 63-year-old Esther Sutherland's daughter who found her mother overdosed in her Los Angeles apartment…
He would not allow 16-year-old Uraraka Ochako to fall into that catalogue of mistakes.
Again, Yagi inquired, "Where did you hurt yourself? Please, you are not in trouble. I only want to help."
Pale pink lips trembled violently as tears finally spilled down Uraraka's face. She did not fully believe him when he assured her of no trouble, but the writing was on the wall; he would not allow her to leave until she talked. Her emotions were bare and no lie she attempted to spin could cover them. A broken sob poured from her throat, "My hips…"
"Your hips?"
Words fell from her tongue as if they burned, "I-I cut my h-hips. I didn't want others to see the marks, so I made sure they were covered by clothing. But I never cut deep!" Shut up! Shut UP! Her mouth would not obey her protesting brain, "I only draw enough blood to kill the pain, not myself!"
SHUT. UP.
Yagi leaned back, straightening his spine as he comprehended her statement. At his full height, he towered well above the small teenager, and she silently drew into herself as she clamped her fingers around her mouth. Her tears shined brightly in the ambience of Yagi's apartment when she fearfully searched anywhere but his face. Her voice shook, muffled behind her grasp, "Oh, oh no. No, why did I say that?! No one was supposed to know about that."
A firm grip fell on her shoulders, turning and leading her further into the humble abode. "My girl, please help me understand." Yagi softly pushed on her until she sunk into the cushions of his sofa, finding his seat next to her. "Why do you want to cause yourself pain?
"Why don't you want me to cause myself pain?" Uraraka felt like she was submerged in murky water; no matter how much she mulled over each question and response from Yagi, she could not see what he wanted her to recognize about herself. Her lungs ached from her quickening breath, but her mouth continued despite its need of air, "It's because of me your best friend is dead. Your best student almost died because I was useless on the battlefield just as I am right now. I am drowning sensei! I just wish I had been the one to die so I wouldn't have caused anyone else to suffer because of how insignificant I am!" She was panting by the time she finally drew a breath, boldly meeting the disbelieving stare boring into her. Why can't you just stop!? "Sometimes I wish I was brave enough to cut a little deeper and tempt fate." A choked laugh escaped as a sob and she smiled, "Wouldn't that be a surprise to everyone that bubbly little Uraraka Ochako was just a broken, useless-"
The same bony hands that guided her to her seat now desperately pulled her into Yagi's chest as her once confident confession broke into rambling sobs. "Oh, God, what is wrong with me, sensei?!" Uraraka felt a large palm bury itself into her hair, pulling her close as if he was trying to meld her form into his. "Why couldn't it have been me?! Why did- why did good heroes have to suffer or die while I helplessly watched? You should hate me. They all should hate me. I don't understand!"
"Ochako," Yagi whispered into her hair, his breath tickling her scalp, "I could never wish anything so ill on you or any of my students. We clearly do not see the same person when looking at you."
"I hate that person. I hate her so much."
