Disclaimer: I (Obviously) don't own bnha or Jhk.
Amane panted and huffed tiredly as he clenched his fists. He slid down the wall and hugged his feet close to his trembling body. His Gakuran uniform was tattered and the dark clothe was stained with blood and dirt. The dark and fearful look on his face vanished and was replaced by a relieved yet pained one. He chuckled bitterly and held his bloody arm tightly then shakily stood up and limped down the dark and miserable alley.
He felt like shit. The pain was unbearable. It's like he was isekai'ed by a truck or something. Hhhh, well that was funny. If he didn't feel lighthearted because of the blood loss, or as if his soul was drained out of him he would've patted himself proudly.
Despite his battered body and overly exhausted psychic, he was actually ecstatic. He was free. He finally escaped that hellhole, if he were to stay there any more time he would've snapped and… Well, let's just not think about the 'what-if's. That would ruin his mood, what matters now is that he's free.
The surge of adrenaline that took over his body couples of minutes ago vanished. Moreove, his sloppy movements slowed down and he tripped over. As if his pitiful state wasn't enough to knock him off, his head violently hit the road. Black suddenly flooded his vision and he fell blissfully to unconsciousness.