My Despairful Academia

by TheHeroCure

"If someone like me is born, that means the world is yearning for despair." Junko Enoshima was sure she didn't say that shit…meh, that's prolly something that A.I version of herself will say in the future. That other future. Here? Sure, why the heck not? She's gonna say it. She's really, really gonna say it! Superpowers, heroes, villains, or whatever the fuck else notwithstanding!

11. Chapter 11

The Cure for Heroism (2): The Desperate Boy Confides His Wish on Her. The Answer He Receives Is…

Much to his non-surprise, as soon as Izuku's eyes fluttered open and began scanning his room, now filtered with dim morning light, a lethargic sense of emptiness cursed through his body.

It didn't help in the matter that he could hear his only window being hit with what resembled thousands of small pebbles. Either those people got even more shamelessly bolder, which would be a feat in and on itself, or it was raining outside.

Not like either option comforted my mind, though…

At that thought, Izuku slightly shook his head. When did he get that pessimistic about things? It was a rhetorical question, of course. He knew since when, or at least when the figurative cord finally snapped. It was something that had been cooking up from his early years up to that incident.

Regardless, that wasn't much of an excuse. Izuku was self-aware enough to understand he wouldn't be feeling this down if he were to meet up with Junko today. What would she think of him if he were to allow this to get the better of him? After everything she had taught and done for him? He had to step up his game. If not for him, then at least for her.

Surely, he could survive without her company for a single day, right?

Slightly fearful of what answer he would get if dwelling too much on it, Izuku concluded it was time to get everything ready for school. And so he did, gathering up his essentials and preparing to take a shower once done with that, all the while doing his best at ignoring the sense of dread the notion of attending classes was filling him with.

Today was going to be, well, it was going to be a day, he knew just about that much. How further would that deteriorate was going to depend on his luck.

---

No sooner he entered the dining room, uniform and backpack ready, he was greeted by his mom giving him an earnest smile.

"Good morning, Izuku. I got us some breakfast ready. Care to join in?"

Looking down at the table, he saw it filled to the brim with all kinds of meals. Bowls of rice with tea poured into it, each accompanied with either salmon, hijiki seaweeds, umeboshi, or a healthy mix in between all three. Chicken onigiris as side dishes. And as the main plate, a soba noodles salad for each of them.

An assembly of food both varied and balanced, made up of common ingredients that could be easily found in convenience stores at an affordable price. Just like Junko's schedule recommended.

It wasn't hard to convince her mom about this change in their diet, specifically so because it was his friend who took care of that. While Izuku back then wasn't the biggest fan of revealing much, to not say anything, about his training to his mom 'I can't say I am now either…', Junko made him see the futility of hiding it. At least when it came to the most general details. And so, among other specifics discussed on her first time visiting his house, Junko saw fit to do a sales pitch about the benefits it could provide for both their bodies and wallet to follow such transition in their eating habits.

That his mom lost some weight and she seemed less worried about the bills when compared to a few months ago, spoke of the results by itself.

I suppose that, in its own way, it also said she had been supporting me so far.

"Of course. Thank you, Mom." Izuku finally replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Seemingly encouraged by his compliance, his mother made her way to one side of the table, with Izuku following her steps and sitting on his own spot while placing his backpack on the chair's back. Giving in their own thanks for the food, they both dived into their plates.

While he couldn't say the mood was the greatest there could've been between the two, it was by leaps and bounds better than their dinner last night.

Still, that wasn't the same as saying her mother welcomed the silence.

"Yesterday I forgot to ask, but how was your day…with Enoshima, I mean." She quickly clarified. "Did you two have fun?"

"…Yeah," Izuku said, unable to hold back his grimacing at her mother's inquiry. Especially for the implications of what she was about to ask before correcting herself.

The school had always been sort of a taboo subject between the two. For years he had been trying his best to hide how bad things truly were in his educational environment. Even if he always suspected she already knew. Following that incident, though, it no longer was a suspicion but instead a fact. After all, it was either coming forth with the truth or shifting the blame of his far-from-subtle injuries towards Junko's training. The choice was obvious, regardless of how much he disliked it anyways.

He could only thank Junko did some damage control patching him up before coming home. That, and that she was there to talk things down with her mother. Preventing her from overreacting and reaching a conclusion everyone involved would regret.

Nevertheless, he tried his best to act as if that incident didn't occur within the Midoriya Household for the following days. Eventually, her mother got the hint about his intentions of wanting to leave the white elephant in the room at peace.

Just the same way she easily caught up now on the fact that Izuku wasn't eager to share more about his time spent with Junko. It wasn't like he could 'Or wanted for that matter…', considering whatever other topic brought regarding that would eventually lead up to Junko's next stage for his training.

With a disappointed sigh, whether on him or herself Izuku couldn't know, her mother raised her hand pointing at a near counter, using her quirk to attract the TV's remote control lying in there. Following that, she turned it on, most likely hoping for the background sound to dimmish some of the awkward atmosphere.

And it certainly did, just not in the way either of them expected.

"A tragedy struck in the Kofu prefecture last afternoon!"

Both of the Midoriya's attention got drawn to the screen, in which a brown-haired woman in his late twenties and a giraffe horn on her forehead was talking. Although the interest lasted less for the older one, seemingly intended in changing channels once she recovered.

"Wait," Izuku quickly intervened, though. "Can we listen to it?"

His mother gave him a look before consenting to his request. Leaving the remote aside as they both listened intently to the news.

"Yesterday, between the sixteen and sixteen and half hours, a group of Villains terrorized the streets of the Kofu prefecture, near the agency of the Pro-Hero Takeshita. They arrived at the scene and without any warning whatsoever, they began firing what was undoubtedly illegal weaponry in the vicinity. While it is an incident already covered last night, we now bring you this news with a most recent update of the events."

As the woman on the screen continued with her narration, Izuku developed a thoughtful expression. Pondering about the information she provided just a moment ago.

Six villains.

Acting in the afternoon.

Within the south-central region of Japan.

Their objective was not clear beyond generating panic and disarray among the population.

It filled all the blanks Izuku suspected he would hear the moment he saw the news.

Could it be…?

"Eventually, their evildoings were put to a swift end when the miraculous appearance of All Might himself came to the scene! And although it is an enormous relief that our greatest Hero saved the day one more time with no civilian casualties, we regret to inform this succession of events didn't end on a positive note."

Izuku grimaced at that. Having a decent idea of where the reporter was going with that.

"Just a few minutes ago, we got confirmation that before the arrival of All Might, and in a heroic and successful attempt of keeping the danger away from the citizens, Takeshita, along with one of his sidekicks, Hanae Spring, perished in action. Our most sincere condolences to the friends, coworkers, and family members of such outstanding heroes. To all of them, know that the citizens of Kofu will not forget this unrepayable service. This is NHK-World Japan, and we wish everyone a prosperous day."

With that dismissal said and done, the news channel went into a commercial break. He absentmindedly noticed that her mom was still staring at the screen. Yet, his own thoughts were somewhere else.

More specifically, on the fact that it happened again. Or at least he suspected so.

In the beginning, Izuku didn't pay attention to these incidents beyond the heinous acts of a villain. Or Villains in this case. However, as time went on, he began to notice there was a consistency in how they were all reported to the point it sort of became a side interest of his to follow related news and look up for further correlation. As a future hero, he had to keep up to date with the latest developments concerning cases such as these.

Which weren't zero, to say the least.

Shizuoka, Musutafu, Hosu, and Kofu. Only the south-central region of Japan had fallen victim to these attacks. As far as Izuku was aware, it was always a group of six individuals that never did anything else other than coming out of nowhere and briefly assaulting everyone in their vicinity before being arrested. Finally, they all had an itinerary between the fourteen hours at earliest and nineteen as the latest.

That was not all though, on some forums he had navigated, there have been surfacing rumors that it was the work of a villainous group coming out of the shadows. Izuku couldn't see a way to immediately discard such a theory, however, that still left some questions. These people have clearly gathered enough attention from the pros for quite a while. In that case, if this theoretical organization was real, why nobody had done anything to stop these incidents? Surely with how loud they have been acting, there was a trail to follow. If not, did it actually exist then? Was it truly a monumental coincidence that involved a bunch of mentally unstable people who decided to terrorize the population because they could?

Again. Not assaulting a store. Not robbing a bank. Neither claims of a vendetta against a hero to force out a confrontation. Never once showing a clear goal in-between.

Almost as if their objective was chaos for the sake of it.

Then what, it was just despair for the sake of generating more despair? That didn't make any sense, not even by the usual standards of a villain. Otherwise, a group would've become public to claim credit for those actions to acquire some infamy. Neccesary for their growing influence and the recruitment of more followers. Yet, not even that had happened.

It was all too confusing, and the more Izuku banged his head about, the more it hurt the lack of any answers whatsoever.

The only silver lining Izuku could find among this wave of terror assaulting Japan was that these occurrences never happened at night. The 'Transition Phase' was enough on his plate that dealing with those people added into the mix would be a situation Izuku didn't feel ready for, less so if his friend could fall into the line of fire.

If something were to happen to Junko…I could never forgive myself for it.

"Izuku."

"Mom?" Popping out of his thoughts, he turned away from the screen his eyes were distractedly gazing on and towards the direction of his mother's voice. "What is it?"

His mother for her part, didn't say anything immediately. As her eyes darted between him and the screen, she shifted her hands down the table, and Izuku could practically imagine how she was rubbing her fingers with each other in a futile attempt to calm her nerves.

"Izuku…please be careful out there, alright?" His mother pleaded.

"I will," Izuku said, with a controlled voice that didn't betray anything. Despite that, he was incapable of keeping the churning feeling that was forming in his stomach at bay.

After all, she was doing it again.

His mother was giving him those pitying looks she sends him regardless of circumstances. No matter he had made a friend as amazing as Junko. No matter how much his resilience had prevented him from giving up. No matter how much his body and mind have matured ever since meeting his friend. No matter everything, for her, it was as if he was still that miserable boy that asked her if he could be a hero, only to receive nothing else beyond more pity from her.

No matter what, she sees me as a Deku.

And with that last thought, he lost whatever appetite he had left. For nothing else other than for the sake of the training and not wanting to disappoint Junko, Izuku did his best to leave his plates without any trace of a leftover. Regardless of the sand-like flavor his food suddenly had.

Almost robotically, he thanked his mother for the food, picked up the plates, and washed them up. He went back to pick up the backpack he left hanging on the chair and strolled near the entrance to grab an umbrella before opening the door. The sound of rain now intensifying while its strangely pleasant smell reached up to his nostrils. It almost helped improve his mood.

Almost.

Izuku was about to take a step out, only to remember something at the last moment.

Hesitating for the briefest of moments, Izuku turned back to his mother, "Today I will come home early. Junko believed it was for the best we should take the day off after yesterday's session."

"Oh, is that so?" His mom said, trailing just behind him by a few inches and with her face perking up by a considerable margin. "Then I will make extra sure to have something ready by the time you are here!"

"Mhm," Was his non-committal response before departing, this time for real. Once out of his mother's sight, he couldn't prevent himself from frowning.

Izuku wasn't a fan of how relieved his mom sounded at the prospect of him not attending his training.

He wanted to hope it was because of the intense rain.

However, reality had ingrained into his head to know better.

---

The walk toward his school felt like taking a step closer to his graveyard. That wasn't as much of a metaphor as he would've liked it to be. While it was true the essence of petrichor covering the streets of Musutafu was an enjoyable distraction, the scenery, with its darkened clouds and the null visibility the intense rain provided, made it for a depressing sight that only worked in a despairful harmony with his already decaying humor.

Far from a fan of dealing with those thoughts, Izuku saw fit to use this window of opportunity to make his mind wander somewhere else more productively. That was to say, pondering on Junko's proposal.

One of his biggest concerns about it was the legality, or the lack thereof, of going with it. Although…

Now the he had time to think about it at his own leisure, and as far as he was aware, what the law specified as vigilantism was someone's unlicensed and proactive use of their quirk to stop a crime. However, neither he nor Junko were possessors of a quirk. Was it a loophole, then?

The regulation was made just a pair of decades ago, through the time the Rhode Island New State Statute implemented in the U.S. was gaining popularity around the globe and the people with quirks were an overreaching majority. Add in the fact that with the declining quirkless population, the laws have been steadily updated around a fully quirked society, making it so that flaws in the system regarding individuals without a quirk turned more and more common by the day.

While certainly not what could be considered an expert, Izuku had done his fair share of investigation. Most notoriously to make sure there weren't any laws against quirkless people partaking a chance into a hero school…which there wasn't, although there wasn't one saying he could either. Whether it never existed or was considered outdated and thus unnecessary, Izuku wouldn't know.

He supposed it was just further proof of how little people care about it nowadays.

The only reason he wasn't paranoid, now or before, about the possibility of being denied a chance into his high school of choice was that U.A. specified that so long as a person had a perfect conduct record and fulfilled the technical requirements any other school would ask of you, if only standardized to the level of the best hero school in Japan, everyone was free to try their chances at it.

Izuku was part of everyone, even if Junko seemed to be the only one aware of it.

Although back at the topic of committing vigilantism, or not-so-vigilantism in his case…A pair of months ago he would've shivered and paled at this train of thought. Yet, nothing of what he was thinking was ethnically, or legally if his suspicions were proven true, wrong, and, if anything, he would be committing a service to society.

All in all, every single bit of information he had gathered about it told Izuku that he could go for it. Still, that left one important question. One that he couldn't ask the law or Junko, but only at his heart.

Should he do it?

With no small amount of disappointment, by the time he reached the gates of Aldera Junior High, he came to the conclusion that he couldn't reach any clear conclusion regarding that specific interrogative.

Letting out a sigh, already feeling tired of what was likely to come, Izuku crossed past the gate. It didn't take more than a pair of steps inside to feel the change in the atmosphere.

Specifically in the way the passersby were looking at him. He felt their stares piercing through his skull. Each one filled with a negative aura, be it contempt, sharp jealousy, or disgust. No one was an exception. Perhaps one or two were pity, but even those had this sense of dissociation with his existence.

He would've easily gotten here earlier to avoid gathering too much attention, but Izuku had long since learned that only prolonged whatever plans his class had for him.

At least getting as late as possible without infracting the entrance period saves me a few extra minutes of peace.

While his reputation among Aldera was never what Izuku could categorize as popular, there used to be a time they all were comfortable with pretending he didn't exist. Nevertheless, just like most of all his recent tragedies, following that incident, it appeared his own class put themselves to the task of guaranteeing no one stood neutral in this fiasco.

Speaking of his tormentors, none of those he passed by had eyes filled with profound and intended malice, which told him that all of his classmates were already in the classroom.

Before any of those in his surroundings could get any ideas, Izuku did his best to ignore them all and continued on his way.

He skipped the locker section. Izuku no longer used it after all. While his own backpack wasn't what he could consider safe, at least there was a chance he could salvage its contents in it. Or, in his lucky days, to be left ignored by his classmates prioritizing having him as the preferred target.

Izuku shook his head in exasperation. Overthinking the inevitable or reminiscing about it wasn't going to do him any good, only to stress him more than what he will already go through. Besides, the first period was about to begin. He couldn't waste any more time on that stuff.

Climbing up the stairs until reaching the second floor of the building his classroom was found, Izuku only had to turn a corner before reaching his destination. Taking one deep breath, and closing his umbrella before depositing it in a waterproof bag inside his backpack, he turned the door open and…

…

…Something was wrong.

With only a few seconds since he got inside the classroom, Izuku knew that something was very wrong. It was the atmosphere; he could immediately tell. There was a lack of hostility when he made an act of presence, which wasn't normal at all. By now everyone should have bombarded him with stares far worse than the average student within Aldera did. They would've also groaned and whispered with each other how much his presence bothered them.

Instead, everyone was doing their absolute best to avoid looking at him.

The dead as a grave silence surrounding the room also unnerved him. If there was a trait that described his class, Izuku could guarantee whomever it asked that quiet wasn't one of them.

With careful steps, he proceeded to his desk. His senses were on high alert, and he keep his gaze sharp while looking at his surroundings to avoid any nasty surprises.

"Pfft."

Izuku's eyes quickly snapped in the direction where he heard that. Although he only grew more concerned when the only thing he saw where he would've sworn that sound came from was one of his classmates, with his face stoic while gazing in the opposite direction. The pit in his stomach only furthered with each occasion a similar incident repeated itself.

What is going on?

Out of all the red flags gnawing at him, though, Bakugo's expression when Izuku moved past him was the most alarming. Sure, he wasn't hiding his eternal scowl like everyone else was trying to with their own features, and when the ashen-blonde threw him a glance it was one with a burning hatred. As per usual. However, with years of experience dealing with him, it wasn't hard for Izuku to notice the fraction of amusement gleaming in his eyes.

He knew they all had something planned for him, but just what could it―

Izuku's breath got caught in his throat, his eyes widened with dread, and the strands of his hair stood on end while the blood cursing through his veins ran cold. All of it occurred at the same time his orbs locked on the answer that had been eluding him ever since he set foot in the classroom.

Sucker for bimbo whores.

On his desk, through bold and black characters, the very center of his working space was tainted with a message carrying nothing but putrid malice.

It was already bad enough to cause a sense of vertigo on him. Yet, that wasn't the only one written on his table. Far from it.

Quirkless nuisance.

Getting too high on yer horse after meeting that bitch, eh?

Are ya threatening her to hang out with ya? Pathetic.

Is she any good? If ya catch my drift~.

How much does she charge?

Waste of space.

Can I have my turn with her~?

Useless Deku!

Is she as used as she looks?

How many diseases does she carry?

Did you infect her with your quirklessness?

You will never be a hero.

You are an eyesore. Do us a favor and off yourself.

Maybe if you ask her nicely, she would join you.

They didn't even were near as close to ending there. The usually brown desk had practically turned black with each space carrying obscenity after obscenity. Each one grew bolder and with insinuations that were making Izuku want to throw up.

At this point, his body began to shake, and Izuku picked up how some of their badly-hidden giggles turned into shameless laughter. His classmates were probably thinking it was their nervous of a wreck Deku once again shaking like a leaf, feeling nothing but pure terror at this and whatever else his classmates would do to him.

They couldn't have been more wrong though.

Izuku was trembling, yes, but that wasn't the cause.

Rather, it was out of pure and unfiltered fury.

He could take with stride them throwing profanities left and right at his person. He had done so for more than ten years, and even if it recently intensified, he could've continued to do so without raising his head.

But falling as low as involving Junko too?

The person just a few weeks ago they all still were drooling about like starved animals?

His friend?

His savior?

His hero?

Are they seriously writing all those terrible things about her only because their deplorable selves were filled with envy at not having someone as awesome as Junko in their lives?

Izuku wanted to scream. Ask…no, demand which one among these pieces of shit did this.

And yet…

Izuku knew that he couldn't.

Not because he was scared of them. He wasn't.

Not because he was worried about their quirks. He wasn't.

No, the only source of restraint preventing him from taking any impulsive and emotionally-fueled actions was the undeniable truth that doing so would ruin everything.

After that day, he had been on probation. Because of course, even if they had no option other than to send him to the infirmary back then, somehow the school's staff concluded it was Izuku who got into trouble for that. The one who, one way or another, instigated that to happen and deserved getting a warning call.

So, unless he wanted to ruin his perfect conduct record required to attend U.A. and throw away everything he and Junko have worked for, he couldn't do anything else beyond swallow his desire to defend his friend's honor and shut them all up.

Saying that Izuku despised every moment of it would be an understatement.

Grinding his teeth, clenching his fist using enough force to make his bones hurt, and growing more and more infuriated with the derogatory laughter around him, Izuku pretended there was nothing wrong with his desk and took a seat.

"Whoa, is he seriously going to act as if everything is okay after everyone wrote that stuff about that chick he hangs out with?"

"Some random whore pays him attention and now he feels like acting all high and mighty, huh? What an arrogant creep…"

"Perhaps the wimp doesn't care? It's likely she finally got tired of him and dumped the weirdo."

"Hmph, serves him right."

Which apparently only furthered the amusement of his class.

At this point, one of his eyes was constantly twitching and his head was beginning to hurt with how many veins have been popping on his forehead.

If only because it worked as a distraction, the sudden entrance of his teacher was a welcomed diversion. Minuscule as it was. He didn't even care that his educator couldn't dignify himself to recognize Izuku's existence, or that of his desk for that matter. It was probably for the best, Izuku didn't doubt the bastard would have laid the blame on him and either ordered him to stay after class and clean his table, or straight up notified it as misconduct on Izuku's part.

The rest of the class was without much of a hitch. Izuku would almost describe it as peaceful. At least by his most recent standards. There was the spitballs thrown at his hair every now and then. A passing provocation here and there. Someone smacking the back of his head whenever he was busy taking notes. There was also his occasional need to dodge whenever a foot was set on his path with the intention of making him trip. Overall, though, it seemed that the first 'prank' was going to be their stunt of the day.

Although every time he gazed down and saw the scribbles, Izuku seethed and his frustration grew bit by bit.

---

The wet sound of rapidly dripping water hitting the porcelain texture of a sink echoed within the school's restroom. In a surprising turn of events, it wasn't his uniform that Izuku found himself drying.

At least not the standard one.

Once classes came to an end, rather than hurrying out of the school like he would've preferred to, Izuku put himself to the task of cleaning his desk. That today he wasn't called out about the state of his working space didn't mean he was off the radar. Sooner or later, some adult was going to notice it and Izuku didn't doubt for a moment that he was going to be their first and only scapegoat.

Unfortunately, he didn't come prepared with a cleaning rag at hand, so Izuku found himself needing its closest alternative.

Which was to say, his P.E. uniform.

'At least I won't need it until next week…' Was his poor attempt at an optimistic thought. Seeing the futility in it, Izuku released an exasperated breath and put himself to finish the drying process.

When he was finally done, he stored it in another waterproof bag, and then into his backpack. Izuku tended to carry more than one of these after he learned that having bento in places with multiple sources of water such as the restroom was a terrible idea. Just as bad as it was bringing any bento to school in the first place.

Not in the mood to tempt fate, Izuku picked up his backpack and hurried out of the room.

He should've known even his cautiousness was going to bring trouble to him one way or another.

When he was about to make his exit, the restroom's entrance swung open and, well, seeing who came through it made Izuku wonder for the umpteenth occasion if he truly had spent all of his luck meeting Junko.

The three individuals opposite of him seemed just as surprised at seeing him, although quickly enough the brief stupefaction morphed into predatory grins for two of them. Meanwhile, the head of the group looked as if his day had just been ruined.

Can't say the feeling isn't mutual.

He knew the chances of succeeding at what he was about to do were as likely as Junko's constant joking proclamation of being a multiversal world destroyer turning out to be true. Nevertheless, he opted to play dumb, pretend he wasn't in front of Bakugo and his cronies, and continued on his way out of the restroom.

That plan crumbled the moment he felt a hand fiercely tugging the strap of his backpack, putting his poor attempt at an escape to a sudden halt.

"Oi, Deku. Who said you could leave?"

Again, Izuku knew that what he was about to say was the height of foolishness. However, he also knew that whether he said it or not, the end result was ultimately the same. Besides, with how much Izuku had required to bottle things up so far, he truly wasn't in the mood to stay shut.

With that conclusion reached, he decided to go for it.

"Well, nobody told me I have to stay either."

Izuku was sure the pain on his back when Bakugo slammed him against the wall would've hurt twice as much if hadn't seen it coming.

"Being snarky doesn't fit ya at all, Deku." The red-eyed boy snarled. "Although I suppose that is another mistake we can owe to yer friend, isn't that so?"

"For real," Aoki saw fit to chime in. "What? Are the heads of that bimbo so good that it sucked the meekness outta ya~?"

"Take that back."

"Oh? And why should I…eh?"

If Izuku was asked to list the number of things he had learned under Junko's tutelage, not even an entire day would be enough to point out all of them. Proper diets, working routines, meditation, breathing exercises, proper reflexes, etc. He could go on and on.

Out of all of them, though, Izuku could admit that being capable of shaking someone to the core with nothing more other than the proper expression for it, was certainly not one he expected to come in handy at any point.

He should've remembered there was always a purpose behind his friend's actions.

His irises constricted, his mouth contorted into a thin line, and if he was doing it as Junko taught him, which the way Aoki and Denchi flinched when his gaze lingered on them confirmed to him, he properly adjusted his hair so a shadow grew over his eyes. As a final touch, he was supposed to release killing intent to cement his upper standing over the other party.

It wasn't that hard to do when you were genuinely feeling something akin to it.

I guess that me now being taller than them and far from the skinny boy from two months ago helped on this too…

However, there was a reason they say that humans were the only creature that trips twice over the same rock. Or over the rock you already saw someone trip to in the dark-haired boy's case.

Aoki's nervous stare lingered on Izuku for a few extra seconds. However, it began to exponentially calm down when it moved on Bakugo's back. Eventually, he recovered enough that his smugness came back in full force.

"Hah? I ain't gonna listen to pipsqueak like you. Rather, why don'tcha―"

"Shut the fuck up, long face." Which quickly bit Aoki in the back when Bakugo turned to glare at him this time around.

"Huh? B-Bakugo?" Aoki asked, dumbfounded. Izuku, however, had an idea of where this was going.

"Don'tcha think I didn't notice how you and fingers over there almost pissed their pants when Deku showed the barest hint of a backbone." Just as Izuku suspected, signs of weakness were a sin that Bakugo didn't forgive. Whether it was an ally or an enemy, he didn't care about the difference. "Now, unless you are eager of being next, zip your damn mouth and let me do the talking, ya got me?"

If Aoki had any protest, they all died in his throat while he took a few steps back and made himself look smaller. His dirty-blonde friend falling in line as well without saying a word.

Izuku's hostile gaze flickered between the ashen blonde's minions before addressing him. "What do you want, Bakugo? Do you truly have nothing better to do other than this?" He practically spat the words

He was partially aware he was poking the short-tempered tiger with a sharp stick. That being said, if Bakugo thought that Izuku felt an inch of gratitude towards him for stopping Aoki from keeping his badmouthing of Junko, he was deluding himself.

"Look, Duku, I'm gonna be real with ya." Bakugo sneered, and how the arm locking him against the wall tightened around his neck confirmed Izuku was truly playing with fire. As if it wasn't obvious already. "I couldn't give less of a shit about the love life between pigtails and you. Whatever you do or don't in your relationship with her, it's not fucking business."

Izuku couldn't prevent the scoff that escaped his mouth. "You say that, but what about―"

"However," Bakugo interjected, and whether it was just because he felt like it or out of irritation at the derisive way Izuku was addressing him, his scowl deepened. "That bitch has been poisoning your mind and giving ya weird ideas. Building up your body. Growing up a spine. Thank God she also made you quit that stupid nickname. However, you also have quitted those annoying stutters, and now you even talk back to me and those who slander your girlfriend. I know it's all bark and no bite, still…all of those thoughts about believing to be made for something far greater than you are things a good-for-nothing Deku shouldn't be even thinking about."

Izuku didn't do anything else beyond giving an owlish stare at the red-eyed boy, and it wasn't until his face was beginning to contort into irritation that he spoke up, "I won't stop my training, and neither I will quit from giving U.A. a chance."

"You will," Bakugo quickly countered. "Didya forgot? In order to become the best hero this world will ever know; everything has to be perfect. Having ya in there, even if just as another extra that won't stand a chance of passing the entrance exam, will ruin the part about me being the only candidate within this cesspool of a school. That is a taint on my legend that I won't tolerate!"

"I see, that is a shame," The darkened expression on Bakugo's face told Izuku he wasn't buying the apologetic tone, so he decided to drop the act. "A shame that you will have to learn to live with. I am not giving up Bakugo. Junko believes in me, and no matter what you or this school throws at me, I will honor her faith."

"It's all about that blonde nutjob for you nowadays, eh?" Izuku only growled in response. "I ain't gonna ask if that is your final answer. I know it is. However, answer this other question. The last time we had a similar conversation…did I beat the shit outta you through your left ribs, or was it the right ones?"

Acting in self-defense was not an option. Not only because Izuku doubted he could defeat Bakugo, but going with that idea was a sure way to get that red mark on his record that everyone in this place awaited with bated breaths.

So, with no option available, rather than dignifying the self-conceited asshole he used to call childhood friend, Izuku merely closed his eyes. If the best he could do was to steal Bakugo the satisfaction of watching him squirm like he used to, then so be it.

"Trying to save face, huh? Well…we can't have that, can we?"

---

Hating was a relatively novel experience for Izuku. It was so recent in fact, that he wasn't entirely sure if this feeling burning within him whenever he was in the company of his classmates, Bakugo, or the school, in general, was actually hate. He knew it was something above mere dislike, although it was hard to measure how above that was. Perhaps it was the second or third next thing to genuine hate?

One thing was for sure, though.

He could add rain to that list.

The way it repeatedly hit the top of his head as he walked through the streets. How it was wrinkling his wet clothes wet, making them uncomfortable to wear. Let's not even talk about his favorite shoes and how it was making Izuku want to get rid of them at his first opportunity. Besides, that it emphasized how colorless his life was whenever Junko wasn't around was straight-up irritating.

Some passersby gave him the occasional weird glance. No doubt wondering why that kid isn't using an Umbrella? Or something along the lines. They probably were also staring at his face far longer than what counted as respectful.

As if needing a cherry atop the cake that was today's tragedy of a day, at some point he passed by an electronics store, and from his peripheral vision, Izuku saw his own reflection through a glass window.

The scorch marks on his clothes.

The messier than usual hair.

That black eye standing out on his left side.

Although, what truly had most of his attention was beyond that. Beyond the glass reflecting his misery and what each single one of the screens was showing.

All Might Saves the Day.

Villains Stand No Chance Against The Symbol of Peace!

Number One Hero in Japan, Also the Most Popular in The Entire World?

Amidst The Recent Wave Of Despair, All Might Shines Like A Farol Of Hope!

Everywhere Izuku looked, he was occupying a corner on the screen.

A far from small part of him didn't want to. He hadn't thought about it in a long while and he would've preferred to leave it like that. Nevertheless, against his own will and that storm of mixed emotions brewing inside him, Izuku began to ponder about the number one hero.

It had been almost three months since his fatidic encounter with All Might. While Izuku remembered that day with fondness, it was only because it also was the very same day he met the most incredible girl in the world.

As for the number one hero…

Izuku couldn't help but wonder if All Might had already forgotten about him. It wasn't as if Izuku expected him to suddenly visit him every week to have lunch or something crazy like that. However, what he told Izuku…what he told Izuku about his injury, was some big stuff, wasn't it? The kind of thing you would visit whomever you told it at least once. Either to see how were they doing after hearing a bombshell of that caliber, or at the very least, to make sure they were keeping themselves quiet about such compromising information.

And yet, nothing of that matter had occurred.

Almost as if All Might truly and utterly thought of Izuku as a footnote within a titanic encyclopedia.

Just some random boy among thousands of others at which he gave a smile and a practice speech about how could he be a hero like him.

"…Ah, that's right."

It wasn't even that, was it?

…

…

…

…That was for the best. Probably.

If your name wasn't Junko Enoshima, chances were always fifty-fifty in which people either forgot he existed or if they didn't, it was only to feel pity for him all the way to straight up hate him.

So yeah, it certainly was better than the alternative.

Izuku continued on his way home, caring less and less about the rain descending on him with each step closer to his destination. Around the same time the rain calmed down and the skies began to regain their blue tone, Izuku acquired sight of the five-story building he was familiar with since as far as he had memory.

As he continued on his path, Izuku briefly wondered how he was supposed to explain the clear-as-day injury in his eyes or the state of his clothes. When arrived at this doorstep, Izuku came to a definitive conclusion.

He couldn't.

Releasing a long and tired sigh 'I've been doing that a lot lately, haven't I?', he stepped inside.

"Welcome home, Izuku," He could hear the footsteps of his mother coming out of the kitchen. "Since you told me today you were coming home directly from school, I was worried you weren't arriving yet. However, I am glad you finally―OH GOD, IZUKU!?"

Izuku winced when his mother lunged at him. Not because it was tight to the point of hurting, which it was, but because he saw that reaction coming from a mile away.

"Mom, I―"

"My poor baby, are you okay!? No, what am I saying, of course you are not!"

"Look, if you just let me―"

"Where does it hurt!? Is it everything, isn't that so? This is terrible!"

"What? No, it isn't as bad as it―"

"A-A doctor, we need to call a doctor! Tell him this is an emergency and that you need immediate surgery for your poor body and―"

"Can you stop!?" Izuku raised his voice. It wasn't an actual shout, but that didn't make it any less of a shameless behavior on his part. As such, the regret came instantly when he saw his mother backing away with a flinch and a surprised look on her face.

"I-Izuku? You…you just…"

He raised his voice against his mother. For the first time in his life.

If he was feeling guilty before, now he was downright ashamed.

Izuku took a few breaths to calm himself down. When he felt he could continue the conversation without reacting as badly as he already did, he continued. "I am okay, mom. You don't need to make a fuss about it. That's all I wanted to say, but I became overwhelmed and ended up overreacting. Sorry."

Her mother still had a shaken look haunting her face. However, seeing that he did calm down, she swallowed her hesitation and got closer again. Only this time with some caution on her steps.

"Izuku," Her mom began, carefully, as if dealing with a ticking bomb rather than his own son. "You say you are okay, but, how do you expect me to believe that? A mirror should be enough to understand you look anything but okay!"

"Maybe," Izuku conceded, although he followed up before his mom could regain any ground. "It's not like in the past, though. I am not as weak as you think I am. Not after Junko's training."

"Junko's training…" There was something strange in the way his mother whispered that. Although before he could question what was that about, she continued. "In any case, even if you truly are alright, which I'm sorry but I find it doubtful, who did this, Izuku? I know it was at school, but…" No different from Junko's face of realization last day, his mother's brows shot up. "It was Mitsuki's boy, wasn't it? I bet it is like two months ago. I knew I should've done something back then! Don't worry, Izuku, I will make some calls that not even the principal at Aldera can ignore!"

"W-What? No, you can't!"

"I can't?" His mother repeated, with her brows knotting in confusion and giving him a look as if wondering if he grew a second head. "And why is that?"

He didn't want to bring this up. Last time he had Junko at his side to jump around this topic without arousing suspicon. Besides, Izuku simply didn't trust his mother in the same way he did Junko to even talk about this, no less to the extent he was about to do.

But, without his friend here and forced into a corner, he knew he had to reveal this much.

"Because the entire school has their hopes in Bakugo attending U.A., meanwhile, they won't bat an eye to ruin my own chances," Izuku admitted. Revealing this to his mother felt both like having weight lifted off his shoulders, and a new one taking its place. "If I do something, anything, that could compromise the prospect of having their star student be their first alumni into U.A.'s halls, they will do everything in their power to make sure no Hero School ever accepts me." He explained. "I know I am asking you much, but the only way I can get into U.A.'s Hero Program is to endure what was left of the school year. I'm sure this is not ideal, but it is my best shot. Besides, this is U.A. we are talking about. It is obvious my classmates in there will be better by leaps and bounds, so things will finally improve once I attend there." He lied; he had no idea what kind of people he would meet there.

Sure, Bakugo might be one potential candidate, but they couldn't all be any worse than in Aldera, right?

His mother didn't give an immediate answer and, surprisingly enough, neither did that small and seemingly frozen smile he didn't know she was capable of leaving anything to guess. However, with each passing moment in which she wasn't giving any protest, the optimism of, just like Junko did, his mother acquiescing to his plea grew more and more.

Maybe he had been precipitated by those pessimistic thoughts about his mother this whole time. It was his own blood they were talking about, there was no reason for her to no understand how much his dream meant to him the same way Junko did.

When a pair of minutes went by without him hearing his mother opposing his proposal, a beaming smile touched his lips.

"Izuku, there is something we really need to talk about."

And that shattered all hope of having reached his mom.

"Talk," A sense of dread filled Izuku upon his mother's words. Nevertheless, he dared inquire about it. "...About what?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation in his mother's eyes. As if knowing that what she was going to say next wouldn't be an easy conversation.

That wasn't a good sign.

"You have no idea how glad I am you met someone like Enoshima." That she began with that sentence only made him more cautious. "Ever since you two know each other, you have always come home with a beat on your feet that I had never seen before. Your smiles feel more genuine than ever. Overall, I can see that she had brought hope and goodwill to your life, Izuku."

"…" He didn't utter a word; his long history of deceptions made him understand that there was a but incoming.

"Indeed, I am happy you have met her. However," Izuku stiffened upon hitting the bullseye. "That same happiness blinded me from what else she represented."

"Are…are you saying that I should stop meeting her?"

"Goodness, no. I couldn't do that to you…although," He itched a breath. "I need you to bring her home in the incoming days. I need to talk with her."

"About what?" He already knew the answer. He knew what she was going to say. After all, he already experienced it before.

"About the training you two have been undergoing," His mother revealed without a hint of hesitation. "I am intended on telling her to cancel any future plans you two might have about it."

…

…Ah, it truly was happening all over again, doesn't it?

"You have no intentions of letting me aim for the Hero Course, have you?" Izuku said, in an eerily calm voice.

"I don't," Whether she noticed anything wrong with that or not, his mother decided it was not worth bringing it up. "At first, I couldn't have it in me to oppose the idea when Enoshima brought it and I saw how enthusiastic you were about it. Plus, I thought that some exercise was a healthy and recreative way for you to spend time with a person around your age. That being said, after everything you just told me and what I have seen with my own eyes, I just can't keep supporting this!"

Yep, it did. It was almost an exact parallel if Izuku stopped to think about it. He came home after experiencing one of the worst days in his life, and when he needed to hear he had the support of his mother, the person who should be his most trusted confidant, all he got in return was one massive load of dissapointment.

Just like ten years ago, history repeated itself with her giving up on him.

"Maybe your friend's plan will truly get you into that course, but then what? It is already hard enough for me to watch how you come full of bruises and injuries here at middle school. Just how much worse it is going to get in a place where they encourage kids to use their quirks to their full potential? With that Bakugo boy around no less? Or in a worst-case scenario, when your turn to fight villains who won't hesitate to do more than hurt you comes!? I…I'm sorry, Izuku, I am truly sorry things had to be this way…"

The same way she gave up on him when he begged her for the barest speck of hope as a child.

The same way Bakugo gave up on him the very exact moment when Izuku confessed to him the results the doctor gave him about his lack of a quirk.

The same way his not-so-childhood friend encouraged every single person his age Izuku had met to treat him like trash. With all of them, save his only light in this world, giving up and conceding to his whims.

The same way his father gave up on him. How he went to work overseas under the pretense of a better salary that could further support his son and wife. How he discreetly made a new family there and prepared for the divorcing process until it was too late to do something about it. Leaving him and his mother to their luck.

The same way All Might gave up on him.

The same way things had turned out his whole life.

"Izuku, you don't have to be stuck on that ideal about becoming a hero. It's not the only way in which you could help people. From what I've heard of the school, heroism isn't the only program U.A. manages. I think the support department was one of them? Perhaps you and Junko could c̷̢̢̨̛̤̮͙͖̼̞̘͕̠̼̪̮̬̹͎͙̠̙̥̙͉̼͚̗͎̫̤̈̓̔͊̆̾̊̈́̃͜ͅo̵̧̡̢̲̣̭̮̤̟̹̜̙͙̺͈̥͕̫̞̹̥̬͈̺̻͉̰̼̥̩̪̟͚̚ǔ̵̧͎̠͔͔͍̲͈͓̲̹̲͉̝̥̣͆̈́̒̅͋̎̂́͑̊̆͒̾̂̾̽̉̃͌͊́̀̍̄͆̈̂̂̕̚̕͝ļ̸̨͚̫̘̭̱͎͛̔͊̓͑͒͘̕͝͝ͅd̷̡̧͕̗̲̺̘͇͙̗̮̱̈́̉̓͋̀̉͛̈̾͐̔̀͑̿́͘͝ ̷̡̛̳̱͕͇͎̬̼͙͚̏̋̊̂̈́̀͆̃͊̔̀̐̕̕̕͜͜͝ͅǎ̵̢̛̪̠̮͖̯̥̳̮͙̘̤͔̥̲͚͇̦̝͓̟̅̉̉̐̅̇̔͝ͅǐ̶̡̦̻̭̫̲̮̳͉̌͂̈́̽̔͂̆̅͊͗͗͒̈́̕͝͠ḿ̶̧̛̩̗͕̫̩͔̻͙̦̹̤̼̥̦͔̣̖̓̏͂̒̈́̄́̽̇̔̐̈́͑ ̵̢̢̡͙̜̩̞̜̠͇͖̭͙̰͈͈̤̫͎̳̤͇̜̺̔̉͌̆͛̾͌̂̓̈̊̈̓͊͆̈́̽͒̄̽́͂̇͌̀̿̿̉͌͜͜͝͠ͅf̶̧̞̝͈͔̮̮̬͛̃͘f̷̟̯̜̊͛́̚͘͠͠r̵̨̛̝͔̯̥̖̝̤͙͇̙̟̱̘̭̬͚̘̱̪̩̼̘͖͚̱̰͗̋͐̎͛̌̎̾̍̿̈́̌̈́̇̈̃̇̅͗̒̔͜͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅ ̴̢̢̛͎̘̥̞̪̖̥̣͖͉̙͓̯̣͕̙̝̗̭̖͙̀́̀̑͌̓̌͌̍̉́͛͒̅̎̏͌̈́̊̍̀̇̕̚͝ǭ̶̢̧̨̫͓̤̜̤̫̞͈̣̭̘͈̝͙̣̫̪̻̝̤̰̜̙̺̫͓̇͆̆͐̈̆̌̂̉͆͌̋͑̔̂͐̍̿̉̉̆̆̇͆͘̚̕͜ͅn̸̡̦͖͍̿͆͛͊́͒̐̌͗͑̽̈́̂̔̾͂̑̉̿̈́̋̾͑̚͠͠n̷̛̻̼͈̐͗́͐̽͑̇̇̊̌̈́̔͂͐̓̅̊̍̐͑̋̈́͋͋̇̐̊̚̕̕͝ ̵̧̰͉͖̮̖̦̬̺̞̞͒̔͊͆̓͑̾͋́̾͘͘t̶̨̢̺̱͚͙̱̼̙͔͖̬̭̲̬̠̹̟͍̘̟͍͖̩͇͇̦̫͇̆͌̐͑̄̐̍̀̓̏̓͂́̃̈̌̇̐̔̿͗̀͆̚͜͝͝ţ̵̨̢̨͍͙̺͖̙̙̤̟̪̹̩̤̘͔͈͌͑̇͌̓̀̋̓͆̾͊͐̆̀̑̒̈́̔͐̿̀̏͝͝͝ṣ̷̡̛̖̖̪̺͖̓̀͐̾́̆͗͑̀̀͠ȩ̴̨̛͖̪̗̳͈̲͕͖̯̜̰͕̙̫͈͕̺̲͔̬̪̝̲̖̊̈̈́̏̈́̇͂͆̉̍́́͊͐̐͂̐̊̕͘͝͝͝ę̴̨̬̣̝̤͇̭̤̮̘͇̪͔͇̭͍̥̗̺͔̤͙̳͖̗̂̽̅͐̀͑̄͊̀́͛̍͆̑̉̋̔̑̽̓̚͘͜͜͝ͅͅͅ.̸͉̯̙̫̳͓͖̺̜͔͔̞̖͙̘̤̻̪̖̙̳̓̈́͒̎̐̈̚ ̵̧̧̨̨͇̲̩̗͓͚̬̞͈̙̱͕̻̤͉̣̝̤̩͇̬͎͔͚͙̩͌͂͗̎̈́̈̅̒̋̐̃̈́̒̈́̎̋̀̉͌̕͝͝͝ͅĄ̵̛̦͇̼͚̘̜͇̩͕̹͕͕̳̻͚̺̪̬͔̞͎͈͌̏̔͋̿̈́͆̓̃̈́̽̾̿̽̑͒̇̽͘̕͘͜n̷̡̧̻͚̪̻̥͓̯̙̮͓̩̪̙̲̥͇̩͈͚̄̈͗ ̴̡̲̪̦̹̯̟̼͖͕̥̱̝̺̹͕̱͙̳͖͍̤̰̭̉͆͑̾͂͂ͅś̶̢̛̛̜̯̪̭͍̥̓̅̓̒̀̑͒̌̉̓͛̐̿̄̚͘̕͝͝p̷̬̮͈̫̻͍͍̩̬̗̫͈̦̥̦͔̮͎̤̽̏̉̃̌͐͌̅̆͒̄̈́̐̎͊̚͠ͅp̷̛̗̈́̂̎̀̍̀͌̽̑̂̃̍̈́̚̚p̵̧͖̱̦̜̯̱̝̪͔͎͕͉̑̋̑̽͐͑̓͐̈́̋́͘͜c̷͖͌͛̎̈́͒̑͐͑̏͠t̴̨̧̡͈͚̩͓͕̖̬̰͉̫̠̫̀̌̀͆c̴̢̧̨̲̠̹̺̝͚̳̲̯͍͕̫̹͕͕͚̬͇̱̥̲̹̻͙̳̲̟̉́̃̓͑̀͌̐̊̇̄͛̽͐̋̆͒̀͊̾̀͘̚͘͜l̶̢̢̛͙̜̻̣͇͓͉̩͙̯̝͖̹̲̰̺̥͔̈̐̓̂̽͒̿̉̀̔͛̑͂̄̒͌̂̈̀̔̆́̔͛̓̊͂̈̚͘͜͠͝r̴̨̡̢̡͈̺̭̤͈͖͙̫̭̠̗̻͇̓̂̑̅̈̂͒̒̏̅́͊͌̈́̄̇̇̀̅̚̚̚͠͝ ̴̢̡̢̢̰̲͍̰̘͈͚͎̙̘͚͎̯̫͕̝̫͓̱͓̮̦̼̠̤͇͇́̚ḑ̸̭̦̮͎̮̗͕͖̺̫͔̖́̐̊̈́̒̀͆̔̕͜d̶̨̝̻̭̗̻͇̤̬̱͔̤̠̙͕͚̟̺̼̐͜ͅį̶̢̡̢̪̖̯͖̻̮͕̼̠̖͈̪̲̝͎͚̙̥͕̺̯͖̐̅́̅͐̋̈͂͂̿̇̐̍͊̍̓̓̕̕."

It was too much.

Too much, and there was too little time to process it.

.

"Į̴̠̞̟̳̪̝̖̰̹̭̏̃̀̈́̀̉̃̎̂͛̒̂̊̈̚͝ͅ ̵̛͖͙̫̟̪̱̖̩̦͈͒͝h̴̢͖̗͎̖̹͛̈́͋͗͑̄̌̿̐̆͌͂̂̕͜͜͠͝͠ẋ̵̧͇̝̎̀͑v̵̰̪̯̖̉͊̐͐̇͂̅̕̕̕ͅy̶̥̗̦̤̮̖̆̾̀͋͊͝ ̷̧̧̦̰͖̘̥̬͌͋̇̆͆̄̈́̊̏s̴̡͚͚̰̣̈̄́͘x̷̢̧̝̩̻̰̖̗͇̯̲͕̟͙͍͔̖̐̍̇̃̐̾̇x̶̨̡͙̣̬̙̥̺̖̳͉̫̗̲̃̆͗̈́n̷̳̤͎̺͍̱̤̬͎͖̬̩̟̋͗͌͌͛͆̀̀̎̈́́̏͂͜͜ͅ ̸̛̘̋̈͂̅͌f̴̨̭̰͉̙̬͉͍̪̥͇͕̳͖̂̾̂͌͊͑͛́̑̐̈́͗̉͌̂͌͝ͅỵ̷̡̛̻̭̙̖̭̼̲̣̮̼͕͉̥̩̿̃͗̀̑͒̈́̅̌̔͌͘͜ȑ̸̢̡̨͍͍̯̼͎̖͍̠͇͈̬͔̈̆̿́̑̍̈̾͌̆͒ͅs̸̡̢̧̛̳͉̝͙͚̠̺͕̯̥̄̂̂̓̈́̎̄̓̿̍̓͑̃̽̒̚t̴̞̻̱̗̭̥̫̬͍̿̇̾̂̋̈͒̓̀͝͠ ̴̧̛̳͇̯̰͛́̅̉͊̆̄̋́́͘h̵͔̲̤̱̩̣̦̱̟̎̐̏̊͌͋͌̍̈́̚͝͝͝x̴̡̧̡̘̗̺̞̰̜̗̤̝̰̱̤̠̣̀̎̀̌̽̇̋̿̌͗̾̈́̀̇̈́̽v̶̧̨̳̯̹̫̍̔͘͝x̵̛̩̖͙̜̘̬̻̓͐̀͐̇̓̕͜͝ ̶̨̛͔̗͙̺͚̖͖͕̱̌̒͑͌͐̆̃͑͂͑̀͌̕͠h̸̞̝̦͎̺̥̰̾̈̆́̃͂͑̽̒͠ͅx̵̛̛̙̍̐̄͛̄̈́͆̍̈̔̕̚͘͝͝ẉ̷̦̯̞͎͉͆̀ ̴̩̹̺͉̥̣͕̼̒́̑̉̈̿̎͒̾̿͒͑̚͝͠b̷̛̭͍͉̲͚͑̒͂̌́̂͗͑̍̚̚͜ŕ̵̢̢̜̲̖̠͓̪͙̱̊̑͜x̸̨̨̤̪͔̠̙̙̤̩̟́̀͘͝ĺ̸̛̪̪̠̻̺̜͎̳̟̫̭̩̎͂̂̎̿̐͛̏͆ļ̷̝̰̠͋̈̃̇͑͐̊͊̒͝x̴̧̛̞̤̯̘͒͌͛̀̌̃͊͌̈͑̾͜͝y̵͚̆̂̐n̸̡̦͖͔̘̜͙̺̖̝̝͎̫̝̼̏͛̊̓͐̈́͗͌̋̀̕͠͝ͅt̸̡̧̧̰̖̣̣̟͍̻̗͉̔̊͊͗̑̆͒ ̸̛̰̙̤̽̐̔̇̈́̈́͆͗̋͠t̷̢͕͕̤̼̰̭̺̦͕̊̀̀̇̃͛́͑̎̃h̷̢̨̨̘̙̘̝̙̤̥̻͖͕̗̹̠̼̊̊͌̓̂̆̄́͘͘y̷̨̢̭̥̹̟̜̝͙͇̻͇̼̺͂̅̃̄͛̇̈́̄̓͘͠ ̴̰̥̻͎̘͈̲̯̋̓b̴̢͇̱̣͖̖̾̈̐̀̉̾̋̅̎̄̇̕͝ͅͅx̷̢͔̼͙̹͇̹̥͎̟̦͉͙̳͙͋̂̑̏̃̀͘ͅt̶̨̲̮͖̯͖̩̻̝̝̩̮͔̥̘̄͋̒́͌́͌̈̑͌̄̏̆͘͝ḩ̵̇̀̋͒̅̽͋͒̆̎̏͛̚ ̶̧̡͇̯͈̪̯͚͎͎̤͓̍̒̀́u̵͈̘̦̘̻̲̫͑̌̋̀̐͗̍͆̎̏̇̕͝f̴̨̡̛̛̝͎̬̠̻̟̫͚͕̮̼̍̈́̉͗̓̽̈́͒̏͘͝͝͠ ̷̢̡̛̛̳̩̯̫̪͎̪̰̲͈̻̺̔̌̋̓͊̚͝ŷ̵̡̧̼̠̖̠͓̤̫̬͕̘͇̦̄̈ͅx̵̢̨̛̛̖̮͓̼̠͍̲̯̥͓̗̩̮̏͌͊̑̾̿̅̂͛̄́͛͝ÿ̶̭̳̺̩̮̩̦͙̮̫̯͕́͛̚͜͠ͅͅͅ ̷̡̫̜̠̩͔̖̘̙͍͎͈̯̘͛̄̈͗̑̓̍͗͐̐̐̓̽̎͝x̴͕̫̤̥̜̳̰̬̤̏͌̾̃͜r̷̛͖̗̺̹̀̀̏͆̐̇͛͆̄̊̚y̷̙̮͉͍͚̔̇̓̊̐̑͑̐̔̏̆̏͘͝,̵̟̹͖͈͉͉͕̙̯̳̑͌͂ͅ ̶͈͎̟̘̄̑̔͛́͒̑͗̇͘I̵̡͈̺̲͓̺̩̦͚͔̭̳̹̟̦̓̂̈́̐̍͑͌̀ẓ̶̢̗̙̪̗̙̣̞̼̪͚̺̋͛̀̄͐͊̓̍̎̑͗̇̃̇͘͝x̸̞͉͓̠̑̽̏́̊̓́̒̔̚̚̚͠k̷̨͚̗̦̫̜̲̳̮̤͈̗͓͛̈́̿̍̌̇͊̀̈͂̆̀̒̉̓͒͜x̷̙̹͉̞̼͖̝̼̺̭̩̮̝̖͎̟̖̑̽͘̕͝!̴̧̡̰̉̀̑͋̂̀̈́̏̆̌͝͠ ̷̢̩̭͚̯̙̝̟̱̤̓̓͋̌͘̚͝Y̷̨̢̘̜̠̻͖̼̹̹̖͉̖͂̔͊̋̕͝͠ͅx̷͖͓̩̮̜͕̯̠͖͇̞̝̀̈́ḯ̷̧̘̰̩̈́̍̿̉̎̊͘͝ ̴͍̏̾̒̀͊͐ͅt̷̲̺̙͙̤̟̍̎̾̆w̶̥̤̲͇̺͖͇̖̠̋͜x̶̧̡̢̼̱̠̳̖̙̝̐̂̕͜ ̴͎̜̙̮̩́̔̇̂̋̂͝ẉ̵̤͓̻͍̭̹͐͝x̸̨̺͙̗͕̞͛͜͜ŗ̴̧̧̢̻͕̭̼̪̬̭͎̘̫̪̟̾̾͂̄̾͑͒̊̚͠ͅḱ̶̢̨̢̛̯̤͉̠͍̱̮̼̱͎̔̊̒̈́̐̈́̐̈́͜x̵͓̖͕̿̍̃̑̇͑́͆̌̐n̷̨̢̻͖̤͍̹̳͍̱̝̈́̅̓͋̾ͅg̸̡̬̳̟̱͈̙̤͚̋̕ ̸͎͑̎̔́͛̈́̽̆̉̃̆̋̚͘͝͠t̶͉̟̟̰͇̪̪͓̞͖͈̬̳͕͖̃̏̀̈́̈́̍̚ͅx̷̢̨̧̡̧̛̰̖̼̩̝̟̼͚̻͇̐̔͋̊̒̇̈̾̓̃͋̔́͆͜͠ǧ̷̡͈̖̌̈́̈͐͗̀͌͑̉̒̉̈́̃̚̕x̷̢͇̬̮́̿̌͂͋̈́̿̚̕͠t̴̗̜̦͖̤̙͗̿̾̐͐̕̚ͅh̸̛̛̭̞̺̥̖̏͛̔̂̔͌̆̒̀́̕͘͘͝y̷̛̠͔͇̦͉͇̽̎̆̈́͊͊̓̿̾̔̏̋́̚͘͝r̶̢̧̛͙͉͚̗̩͓͈͉̠̈͑̀̉̀͒͘͠ͅ ̷͖̱̫̪̟̠̱͎̜̯̯̻̂͌͋͐̀̀̍̋̀͛̊i̵͓̱̝̋̋̓̄̽̓̚ņ̵̜̤̝͈̲̪̪̖̝̱͔̓̾͂̎̚ ̸͔̹̲̰̘͓̲̈́͋̀̈́̈́̿̊ẋ̵̖̮̳͈̰͗͌́͂͂̍͋͝ ̸̡̨͇̮̣̟͔̜̙͉͎͎̝̖̥̉͋̎̇̓͂̓̊̐̃͆̎̓̒̚ͅs̴̡̨̛̝̖̯̹̭̰̥̮͔̱͖͒̌̈̂̊̇̏͜x̶̬̥̆̒́͊͗̈́͆͑͌͝f̴̜̉̃̈́̒͊̑̅̀̽͂x̶̨̻̯͚͕̩̱̝͕̳̯̲̥͍̎̇̾̚͜r̸̛̬̜͓͈͙͓̣̃̌̑͑̃̃̅̈́̎̈̓̌̉ ̶̡̛̦̖̻͙̠͚̖̊͛͑̎͛̓̊͒͜͝y̸̛͙͗̏̈́̔̓͊͆́͝͝n̷̡̢̨̨̲̯̙̻̥̫͉̂͒̈́͆́́͂̑͛́̊̆̔̊̚̕͠ͅv̸̗̊̅̑̋̆̒͋͌͌̽x̵̦͖̭̹͙̗̬̲̣̮̦̪̥̠͝r̷̨̢̛͓̟̼̠̥̰̒̔̇̅̄̈́̓̽̕͘͝x̶̧̢͕̜͈̥̻̞̗́ñ̷̳͖̘̰̄́̀̓̂͒m̷͖̪͕̣̈́ͅÿ̸̛̩̖̣̣̯̯̞̝̳̃̄̽̀̈́̈̄̕̚ñ̴̨̡̡̰̤̙̞̤̳̫̘͖̊́̈́̅̀͆͗̔̉̅̒̐͋͜ẗ̸̖̙̟̱̼̟̰́̒̐̆̌͒͛͌̉̚͠ ̵̡̰̗͙̳̺̎͜w̵̢̝͔̥̫͎͔̗̋̿̿̀͛̎́̋͂͛̽͜x̶̡̲̲̣̩͒̌̈́̒̒͘̚x̸̢̬̲̥̮̺̱̹̱̩̹͔̫͔͇̒̏ļ̵̨̗̟͙̳͓̭̟͙̱̺͇͑ͅd̷̨̨̪̰̮͉͕̮͓̱̣͐́̈́̀͂͂̔͆͌̚ ̴̨̨̧̧̛̝̮̱̳̘̗͎͎͓͉̥͔͙͋͋͛̈́̂̈́̑̋ḍ̴̹͖̞̥͎̭̰͍͐͑ý̵̥̣͚̣̞̖̫̉̄͂͋̈̿̒́̉̆͘̚͜ ̵̛̳͎͚̺̳̱̬͎͍̗̻̊̂͑͑̂͝ͅw̷̧̧̼̯̗̩̭̮̣̜̞̣̤̍͒͝͝x̴̧̪̓́̋͌̒̚͘n̸̟̱͈͒ḋ̴̥̰͈̣̹͍͎͍̒̀̋͊́̄́̆̄̾̉̔̍́̅͝ͅy̷̧̗̘̗̥̲̤̞̳͇͓͍̋̆̂̋̿̑̅̓ͅͅr̸̢̨̡̹͓̖̲͚̞͈̰̰̻̞͈͒s̶̩̪̾́̀̅̅̈̓̃̊̔͋̉͝ ̴̘͉̱̪͔͍̩̥͍̫͛̾̉͊͑́̄̌̅̚x̶̖́̍̈̑̈́̉͒̍̆ņ̶͙͕̝̫̥̰͔̟͈̜̯̙̠̲͉͂̄͌̓͊̇̀̉̀͐̀͛̕͜͝ ̸̧̨̛̯̠̞̮͖̝̖̙̪̻̰̜͛̐̽̈́̆̓̿̚g̶̼͐͂̿͛̿̊̚͜x̵͈̪̐̈́͒͗̉͋̔̎́̐̈̓̽͘̚r̵̛̹̝̭̖̲̻̞͌̄̂̇͒̓͘̕͝r̷̡̧̛̦͖̻̪͍̭͈̻͚̆̿̐͛̚͜ͅͅͅu̴̜̭̞͍̮̬̘̱̺̩̬̘͂́̀́̾̋̀̏͛͛̕͝ͅn̴̢̻̘͎͔̟̏̋̕͝ť̵͍̺̃̽̿̈́̕̚͝͠x̷̡̜̝̩̮͉͉͚̹̱̜̥̩̤̺͇̅̀͊̔͗͌͆̏̿͊ͅx̵͍̜̟͓̤̦̳̫̿̌̈́͗̄͂̉͠͝y̷̧̟͎̟̳̯̫̺̩̠̭͙̲̜̿̅̈́̎̋͗̎̾̿̈̈̓̅̓̕ͅn̷̡̢̝̩̫̼͙̯̟̮̓͑̈̀̃̄̉̄̊̅̾̿̀͐͘͠͠g̵̣̜͚̟̱̥̰͂͌̑̏̽͝ͅ ̸̣̗̮̦͓̜̳̱̦̳̟̙̜̟̼̐̽̓̈̈́̉͑̿͂̾̽̆x̶̻͈̦̠͚̠̫̳͔̤̓̓̀͛͑̇̎ ̷̭̹̖̬̝̪̫̹̅̃́̇̂s̵̛̺̆͌̂̍͗͗̏͘͝x̷̢̧̣͎̞̯̼͙̲͎͋̓̍͆̃̋͂͋͌̑́̆̕͘͘ͅͅf̵̡̪̺̣͓̱̭̱͔͕̰̹̹̥̓̈́̓͌̋͆̑̾̅̕x̷̢̧̧̡̛̜̭̲̱̪̯̜̯̹̖̙̳́͂̊̾̈́̍̃̇͗̑̾̀̈́͠͝͠ͅ ̵̨̛̞̳͚̰̜̮̪̼̏̂̎̂̉͆̋̕f̷̡̬̤̜͕̠̣̪̹͍̤̝̠͖̭̩͌͂̽̓͜x̵̡̪̬̹͙͑͋̃̐̈́̐͝t̶͕͓̜̤̯̥̫̃̄̉͛̏͐̓ͅy̷̢̧̧̢̛͖̲̞̤̞̟͇͖̗̘͠ͅr̷̳̰̮̼͔͈͂͋́̈̄͗̀̀̇̂͒̓̚̕͠x̵̖̋͂̀͒̌͗̈́̕͝."

.

Day after day.

Week after week.

Eternity after eternity.

He really was right about All Might. Things would've been so much better if people pretended he didn't exist. At least that way they wouldn't be wired with this weird and obsessive sense of purpose that forces them to go out of their way into acting like roadblocks in his life.

Seriously, did these people have nothing better to do with their lives?

There had to be more fulfilling and entertaining things to do other than playing at messing with the quirkless boy, right?

Izuku knew he assured Junko and, just a moment ago, his mother that he would've been fine with his school life until his admission to U.A., but…how to put this…

It truly was a hassle, wasn't it?

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"Ḍ̷̡̭͎̙̜̙̠̤̻̬͚̇̍̅́x̷̡̡̧͈͈̫̮͕̰͉͓̮͖̤̪͉͊ͅs̴̢̡̤̟̟̞̞͉̙̞̞͇͙̝̟̀̆̅͑̀̎͑̈́͐̀̎̀̄̚͜͠͝͝p̶̡̟̝̥̯͈̠̺̐y̴̝̩̮̦̠͈̣̪̰̎͋̒́̀̔͐̂̓̽͆̑̉̚͜x̵̢̥̭̙̱͛̾́̐͌ṙ̷̩̲̝͋̓͒ ̶̹̮̹̜̝̟̱͎̪͈̼̫̆͌͜͠x̸̧͖̣͉̰̩͉͜͠ş̶̡̝̖̻̹̤̠͇̲͍̪͚͉̣̭̹͗͗̈́̅̇̊̎̏̉̕ ̸̼͓̘̥̝͇̙̻͓̥͇̮͖̝̆͋͗́͗̇̆̀͒̐̋̄̇͋͋̕͜h̶͇͍̺̙͈̯͉̟́͑̒x̷̗̜͇̜͍̗̺͓́̐͐̑͑̑̅̏̓́̔̀͗̈́̍̈́̂p̵̢̭͓̗̼̘̖̭̹̻̥̐͊́͊͂͐̽͐̓̊͝ỵ̷̤̞̓̓͜'̶̢̗͈̦͌̀̈́̋́̾͒͒̔͋̿̈́͠ş̶̢̠̱̱̲͇̪̯̰̩̗͖̀̀͐́ ̶̡͓̰͓̪̘̲̠̩̥̪̝̭̹̲͚͍̿̋̌̇̆̂̀̅͑̓̏̌̂̅̚p̵̧̟̭͝x̵̞̱̦̙͈͔̘̙͇͉̻̜̤̮͑̂̈́͑͠͝l̵͕̀͊̎͒̽̂͌̎̉͒͌͘͘y̷̢̡̳̞̘̠̅̀̍̆͆̋̔͐̏͋̎̎́̍͘r̵͓̪͖̻̙̳̻̝͈̪̯̭̬̜̆̉̒̅́͑͝ ̵͚̪̫͙̞̈̾̉̏̃̏̎͑̒̈́͘͜x̷̧̨̼̯̜̰̝̤̐̀̌̈́̕ͅͅp̷̢̨͇̣͚͕͓̞̱̠̼͚͈̂̉ͅp̵̲̝̖̩͍̣͔̎̍͐̀̿x̶̢͔̙̬̗̰̥̤̬͙͓͓͔͕̋͊̽̎̅̉̿́͆̊͝͝͝͠ͅs̴͇̜̋̔́͒̚y̸̹͇̗̱̥̏̉̒̊͛̕͜t̴̢̢̨̻̪͚̳͚̟͍̖̠̂̄̈̈̄̈́̔͗͆̆̇̓͑̍̿̚͘x̷̛̖̮͔̖͍̤͔̣̀̽̅̎̊̃͗̊̎̎͊͗̕͝ͅ.̸̛͎̜̬͕̮̻͙̠̾̈́́̑͋̓͝ ̷̧̯̮̥̖͙̦̲̯̏̿͗̉́̽͘ͅY̸͉̭̼̦̟̫̤̑̐̀̽͐̑͑̏̄͆̌̚͝͝͝ͅt̵̫̼̭̘͚̼͈̤͇̦͐ ̵̛̟͎͓̯͕̪̼͉̤̹̻̳͒͊̊̐͋̌̋̀̚̕͘͝x̵̞͓̜̙́̋͂s̵̢̧̜͕̬̲̝̥͙̰̣̤̽́́͗̆̓͌̎ ̸͉̗̗͓̪̦͎̩̙̳͚̬͎͖̹́̍̂̅̔m̸̗̤͕̦̗̩͚̦͇̜̲͍̖̹̍̓y̵̧̧̛̜͍̣̳̤̟̥̥̼̯͖̗͍͖̆͑͊̇͗̆͌͆͛͒͠ͅs̷̨̻̟͚̘̩̖̝̺̤̝̯̫͙͈̒̍͂̏̌͑̈́͒̊͒͘͘͜ͅś̴̢̢̧̧̞̙͙͓͈̩̖̞̲̋̊̇̏̀̋́͂́̐͘ͅx̶̛̩̪͍͗̈́͊͋̆̏̑̎̉͂̀̾̓̚̕ ̴̢̡̢͎̼̰̪̟̼̭̰͑̀͂̈̈͂̂̅̃̽͋̅̎͘̕͜͝ͅx̵̼͒͛̊͊̈̕̚̚͠ͅņ̵̡̥̞̲̭̪̙̰̯̰̠͌͗̔̾͗̋̍̈̍̉̏́̄̇̔͝͠ď̴̃̑̏͂́ͅ ̷̛͓͐͑͋̊͂̉̿̽̓͝͝c̶͎͆̎x̴̡̛͚͔̺̻̳͎̯̳̤̩̣͓̮͖̼́͋͌̆̑n̷̡̜͍̝̱̩͉̥̟̆͐̄̅̌̀̇̇͛̕͝͠͝f̴̨̢̪͓̙͕̫̱̳̫͍̓̓͑̈̀̓̄͒̚y̷͔̣̎̅̆̽̕s̴̡̬͔͈̠̬̯̹̮͊́́̽̋͌͌̈́́̓̚y̸̛̺̖͎̘̙̤̱͍͐̓͋̀̒̈̈́̐̈́́͒̂͘͜͠ņ̸̡͎̲̲̣͖̗̖͚͌̆̊̑̋̆̈́̽̃̔̀̓̚ģ̷̣͈̲͚̤̲̬͎͍̖͓͇̗͐̆͂̓̄͗͑̚̕͜͜͠͠͠.̶̟͎̦̔͊͂̂̀̅̚ ̶̛̱̙͓̗̝͖͚̹͓̦͕̭̥͐̐͋̓̂̉͑̓̀̀̚̕̚͜͝Y̶̗̠̙̹̥̊ͅṫ̸̨̧̗̫͖̟͖̠̗͉̼̿̔̄̕͜ ̷̛̼̯̯̞̤̫̺̭͐̌͌͊͗̈͋̎͊͗̿̎̚͠ś̶̢͍̭̫̜̯̣̗̬͍̙̈́̚w̵̢̧̛̜̥̠͈̗̠͚̦x̵̨̛͓̝̟̤̰̠͗͑̎̀̃̎ļ̵̩̙̞̲̜͒̓͊͆̀̉ļ̸͕͛͂̄̑̄̆̿͛̃̂̋͝y̵͎̟̜̤̹̟͒͠w̸̞̘̓̽̔͐̑̔̑͂͝͠s̸͓͑̂̂̒͋̓̈̏͝ ̸͉̠̱̮̜̗͎̬̝̜̬̂̈́̂̿̆͊͐͝͝x̴̨̛̲̝̳̯͉̪̰͎̟͖͎̩̊̈́̇͆͐̐̊͒͘͠͝͝͠ͅͅp̶̡̭̳̱͕̥͖̱̘̦̳̮̟̽̍ͅ ̷̡̛̫̫̞̮͈̮̹̯̥̹̘̹̞̆̇͘l̸̢̻͋̾̃͑̇͠ẋ̷̡̬͉̺̭̘͉͈̠̞͎̩̽͠v̸̛̗͚̩͋̏͂̽͆͛̓͠ÿ̵̧̢͉̻̟̹͙̦̻̗͓̝̯̃͂͆̀̈́͜ͅͅ,̶͍̗̞͍͉̭̤̼͍̫̦̳͖̰̤̑̆͐͆͌̽̃̏͂́̃̈́͘ ̵̡͙̺̮̺̣͕̇̅̐̄̊̔̾́͛̈́͠h̴̨̧̛̠͉̞̆̍͋͆͊́͗̅̾̋̔̔͘͘ỳ̷̨̢̮̥̥̮͍̤̰̬̲̠̰̰̘͇̀͂̀͆́́͒̇͘͝t̵̨̩̺͕̻̰͚̹̘͍͇͕̤̱̲̑̾̆́̑̂͂ŗ̵̱͉̙͇̬͇̹̞͚̬͖̼͋̒̈̀͐̑̓͌̍͗̃͘͝͝y̸̼̦̹̰̪̿̅̆̉͒́͛̈́̈̒͘̚̚ͅḑ̶͕̫͙͊̈́̐̉̅̉̈̓̚̚,̴̡̡̩͖̥͇̞͙̪̗̓̓̓́̆͌ ̷̝͚̥̻̲͓͌͂̑̌̈́̑ͅx̷̗̜̎̔̄̅̈́̌̓ͅn̶̡̧͓͕͓͉̤̝̤̣̫̠̓̒̔̑̈̍̍̋͐͐̃́͝ḑ̷͇̰͓̘̝͉̙̞͎̹͋̑̋͛̾́͌̉̿͗̂̔͜͝͝ ̴̢̨͔̹͈̙̯̠̤̔̃̅̚y̴̢̛̯̼̽̏͐̏̓͂͋͒̋̇̂̈͋̕̚v̷̠̟͔̬̮̤̗̱͙̞̣̙̙̊̑̋̈̈̐̒̉͐͂̑̍͘x̶̡̰̠̣̹̪̤͇̠̠̠̒r̴̨̳̖͎̼̬̳̳̺͍̆̿́̉̒̚y̶̭͖͎̲̲̟̩̺͗͂͌̐̏͜t̵̡̢͉̳̖̱̭͓̝̼̝̓̑̄̿̌̆̿͛͠h̷͓̼̜̬͙͚̥̮̤͎̥̰̬͖̙̐̾̕x̶̟̜͎͊̃̈́̕ͅn̶̛̳̈́̉̔̒̀̎̾̕͝g̴̡̮̑̅̉͛͛͋̀̔͊͝ ̶̧̞̮̫̜̥̰̱͙̤̮͉͎͕͎͚͋̎y̷̡̩̩̘̝͖͉̱̦̮̋̍̐̎̇͌̌̔̓͊̆l̷̘̺͖͇̣̞̠͒̍̀̎͌́̌̏͌̇̽̿͠͝ṡ̶̘̲̞̭̠̗̥̌̋̏̊̑͆̊̍͒̂̊̏͝͝ẏ̷̡̹̝̟̻͕̭̮̝̭̩̩̟̩́͆̋̄̍̈́͠.̴͍͔̝͙͓̳̘̮͈̙̳̬͕̝͛ ̵̠̹̰́̇̑̋̀͋͆̃͐̾̍̿̿͘͘̚B̶͇͖̠̥̥̅x̴̨̻̗̹͓̲̠̊͒́͋͒̎̋͠ć̶̨̹̼͇͓̥̻͕͛ͅx̶̢͔̜͓͕͚̞̜̉̈̈́̓̏̈́͑͗̂̚y̶̻͇̯͉̻̝̌͐͘͜s̵̖̆͛̏̾͗͌̃̉̈́̀͝ẍ̴̨̤̻̞̝̥̙̝͈͉͙̜̙͕́̌̿͑͌͑̈̄̀͊̇̕̚ ̸̩̆͐̀ņ̸̤̲̦̯̗̠͕̹̖̻̊̈́̅̍̍͐͘y̴̹͐́̍̎͑͐̿̈̍̑̓̕̚t̸̠̭̘͛̾̎̿̍̇̍͊͐͒͌͋͂̕͜ ̷̪̠̙̟̬̖̻̟̥͌͆͌̓͑͋̚͠͠k̴̪̜̘͍̦̞̻͕͖͖̻̀̈̾̌ͅņ̷͓̥͍̟̙̬͉̱̙̬̝̫͍̅͜͜y̸̛͇͙͗̈́̂͛̐̏͆̽̽̄̀̑̕̚͝ẉ̸̦̲̥̽̍̐͋̿̓̇͒́́̍̓x̷̨̺̫͕̩̖̫̩́̀̌́̑̏̈́̊̈́̒́̉̈́̚͠n̸̜͙̙̯̬̦̯̓̃̐͑̓̋́̾͝g̷̛̯͕̙̈́̀̍̊͂̎̈́ ̵̛̛̘͚̠̪̲͍͍͉̰͈̝͖̆̑̒͒͒̐͗̄͛̓̀͗̍͜͝ͅẘ̶̧̢̛̛̤̱͚̠͖̗̘̪͉̫̙̼̣̜͍͛̑̀̌́̀́̂̇̏̚h̸̡̧̭̭̟̣̣̻͇̖̫̊̽̐́̾̓́̋̆̕̕͜ͅx̴̤̘̮͉̺͕̯̝̯̼̯̻̂̀͂̂̅̊̍̀̚͘r̷̳̦̪̣̼̻͉̱̉̽̂͜y̸̧͎̝̳̦̿͐̐͛̿̇̅̿̿̉̾͝͝ ̴̧̫̺̖̳̳̫͖̣̰͕̯́͊̒́̀̊͑̆̓͋̓͝y̷̡̢͉̰̘͕̘̜̳͙̓̊͊̆̀̆̀̊͑͝ͅx̴͉͙̰̞͖͚̞͍̖͔͓̻́̄̓͊̐͐͋̈̇̌̊̌̑͐͋̓ͅx̸̟̟̬̙̙͙̤͍͓̓̏͆͘̕͜ ̶̨̛̠̞̙͇̭̦̼̗̞̞̬̪̆͊̏̈́̽͛̌̐͗̓̌̍͘̚ͅw̷̜͛̊̇̍̈͑͆͐̀͋̽͆͂̎x̸̡̜̯͎̞͊̌͆̎l̶͙̤̯̰̳̀̓͑͌́́̌͗̎̋̉̐̂̅̄͗̈͜ͅl̶̨̛͇̺̹͖̝̲͚͖̯͓̟͓̘̑͒̄͛̽̀̒̓͛͝ͅͅ ̴̢̤̞͎͖͍̟̞̻̙̹͆͌̃͒̌̓͐͛͛͜y̶̡̟̬̱̘̆̽̃̈̐͋͋̑͆͋͘͝͠͝͠n̶̢̛͓̙͛͋͒̑͒͑́͛̈̉̚̚͝͝d̷̜͕̘̯͕͙͉̱͔̳͉̜͓̪͇͍̃̆̄́̏͂̅͝͝ ̵͚̼̜̪̓̒͐̐̿̄͂͑̈́̀̐̕͠͝͝x̶̧͇͉̥̪͕̗͔̤͓̹̝̦̩̀̉̈́͛̓́̊p̴̹̹͓̲̪͆͊̏̒͋̆̊ ̵̨̗̖͉͔̦̣̪͕̠̩͉̲̻̝̞̀̿͐̋̂̓̿͊͊̕͠͝͝͝ͅx̸̙͖̰͈͉̎̀̽̉̿̐̚͜͜š̷͉̳̖̬͈̦̫̞̞̍͜ ̶̧͎̞̠̺̋̂̽̏̋̑̎̈́͗̍͐͂̕͝d̵̨̨͈̯̖̖̟̯͓͈̈́̉̈͜ͅy̶͙̣̪̩͖̙̙͓̲̮͑͛s̷̡̤̝̤̪͖̏̌̍͆̍̀̇͠p̶̧̨̨̞̩̘̠̖̮̪̙̳̬̟̖̾̃́̽͋́͌̍̈͋̓͆͋̒͋̕͠x̷̫̠͈̲̘͉̙͓̭̣͔͉̪͍̩̠͑͆ͅx̵̢̢̛̣̗̫̔̄̎̓̋͆̓͊̔̈̀̉͜r̸̟̤̜̱̻̦̺͉͚̣̓͗̕͝.̷̢͓̩̫̳̦̌͋̔̍̋̋̐͒̌̋̆̎͂́͗̚͠ ̷̧͚̙̳͔̯̠̣̭̠̲̩̍̎͑̽̕ͅD̴̢̢̢̥̬̜͙̣͎̝͉̹͕̠̹̮́̒̄͋̄̾̔̒̈̎͑͝͝ͅx̶̨̭͙̠̼͇͍̣̱̪̼͇̩̭̟́̄͒ͅs̴̺̀́̀͗́̇̓̌̀p̵̛͙̟̪͓̯̹̞͓͒̂̈́̌͊̑̉͋͊̿͜͝͠y̷̮͐̉̉̄͒̇̆̀̆̓̅͝͠͝ẏ̶̧̨̘͙̥̟̬͕̭̮̥̮̳͔͆͒͆̒̍͊̌̓͋̈́͂̅̿͂͝͝ṟ̸̡̛̘̖̞͓͇̼͌̈́͛̊̆̾́͛̃̓̅͝ ̸̧̛͎̣͎͇̞͈̼̪̲̺̬̦̣͕̐̏̆͌͑͑͒̑̔̆̂͘x̷̧̡̙͕͓͓̹̖͓̙̝̤̗͓̯̤́͘s̶̢͕̞̥̙̪̦͎͕̙̽́ ̴̢̨̰̘͔͈̯͎̼͈̈́́́̇̈́́̈́͝y̴̨̛̹͖͉͉̞̲̦̯̤̤͍̽͗̉̆̎̅̿͗̑͂͝v̷̢̬̰̘͓͚̩̫̲̯͕͕͓̹͔̝̼͌̅̌͐͆͊̃y̶̹͔̱̟͖̲̣̗̙͉͙̦͛͜ņ̶̺̖͍̬͉̩̫̟̱̰̙̗͔̇̈́̎͜ ̶̧̧̡̪̯͍̳͉̫̪͇̮͕̺̠̅́͋̆̏̔̎̀́̂ẅ̴͈͙̺̟̱̝͎̻̞́̅́̄͌̇̋͛̽̈́̍́̐̒̚͜h̶͇͎͋̿́́x̴͍͍̝͎̬͋͂͒̌́̏̒̚ṯ̸͔̭͙͈͓̽̃͋͆̆͂̌̌͊̓̀̏͠ͅͅ ̸̢̛̭̳̘͕͕̝͉̥̣̣̪͉̥̝͔̓̀̃̂͒̆̿̅̐̄̋͝y̷̛̠͓̫̜̟̞̩̤̜̙͖̣̟̏͌̓̅̆̈́̌̚x̷̨̻̘̯̗̟͓̹̄͑̎̈̑̾͋̒̀̊́͘͝x̵̛̛̼̙́̒̀͑̾̎̇͌̈ ̴̖̭̼̘̞̤͓͍̤̰̣͚͌͜c̶̹̬͍̝̠̽͑͂y̴̨̢̛͙̰̦͓͎͐͊̇̾̌̄́̌̎̂̈́͘͘̕͝ń̶͙̗͔̿̿̋̆̽̒̀̾́͘͘͝͝ņ̵͚̼͓͕̈́̾̋͐̓̈́̎͒̓͆͌̃͆͛̈́͝y̵̛̺̪̗̔̿͘͜ț̵̢̢͇̭̭͔͚̺̺͉̌̾͗̀͐̋̿̋̐͗̍̑͊̍̕ͅ ̶̡̡̧̱͔͎̘̩̞̭̖̯͖̗̦̣͒̈́̄̀͋̿͑̍́͋̀̓̚̕͠͠ͅp̸̖̯͇̭̜̼͚̪̱͔̥͎͉͔̟̦̉̅̍̈́̊̅̋̚͘̚r̵̥̬͈͓̞͉̱̖̙̖̺͂̄̾̓͊̈́̍̽͋͝ͅx̷̢̮̞̹̬͆̓̉͊͊́̈́̎̈́̎͑͒͑̎͘͜d̴̟̘̪̤͇̞͈͐̀̔̈́͂̉ͅỳ̶̛̲͍̓́̾̍̅̓͋̊͐͑̇͘͝c̵͙̜̭̮͚͈͉̙̞̰̭̻͇̘͙͚̚͜t̸̫͚͇̟̮̦̗͍̭̲͙͓̘̖̥͚̓̽́̄.̷̛̺͕͇̘͙̙͈̂̉̃͒̓̏̍͗͒͝ͅ ̷̨̧̢̰͓̱̘̟͍̠̻̥̈́͘X̴̺̘̟̱̲̺͔̭̖̘̺͎̘̾̿̐̊͑ͅn̵̛̲͚̜͚̣̭̤̤͇̳̲͓͖̪̼̂̆͑̎͊̂̇̋̅̄͑̍̄̚͠ͅl̷̨̢̨͕͓̦̭̹̖͉͇̗̝̹̍͊͂͒̀͐͂̀̄̔̄́̾̏̌͠͠ͅͅy̴̺̜̜̣̰̠̗̭̌̑͑̋͋̏͠ͅ ̸̡̡̟̦̤͍̦͖͔͉̀͒̂̓̎̈́̊̆̚̕͝ͅḓ̵̤̬̗̺̭̼͚̯̰̔̅͆̔͌̾̆̓͋̏̉̉̿̌̚͝x̷̨͉̣͖̻͙͈̪͈̎ṣ̵̢̰̻̬̰̰̱̪̲͚̜͎͈͊́͆̑̓̆̈̑̍̐̚͝͝p̸̧͇̫̰̤̱̦̳͓̦̯̦̄̈̽̋̂̑͑͝ͅy̷̢̨͓̮͈̜̻̹͔͖̗̙͙̹̟̼̅͛̇͂̀͊͂̈́̐́̓̈̐̇̃̈́͠ẏ̷̢̧̘̝̲̱̫̞̠̘̦̣̲̙̣̥̐͆̔̌͌̕͜͠r̵̨̨̺͈̥̫̠̪̫͍̬̳̝̗̀̇̉̽̈́́͘͜͝'̸̡̟̮̰̪͎̱̓ͅş̴̢͎̩̬̹͖̓̓ ̶̛͖̖̥̲͚̜̱͔̏̋͠ͅx̴̢̦͈͋̃̋͋̓͌̈͘n̶̢̼͕̩̻͖̯̱͍̣͗̽̈́ͅp̵̨͇̬̮̹̫͚̖̠̝̼̲̄̅͒̂͊̃̂̆̄͘̚͘̚r̷̦̙̖͚͕̺͇̺͙͔͔̲͚̞̭̅̈́͌̐̒͌̏̀͋̂͆̚͠ͅͅx̵̢̠̮̲̼̬̹̠̙̖͐͑͒͒͒̂̆̽̕̕͝͠͝͝͠d̸̛̻͓̟͙̱̩̙̰̒̔̃̂͒͜͠͝͠ͅx̵̮̪̫͚͗̊̏̿̃͊̈́̀́͂͋͂̔́̈́͛͝c̶̡̛̟͉͙̥̗̩̠͓̟͕̙͇̭͎̫̈́̈́̃̆̃̎̽̚͠t̸̡̧͎͔̦̬̮͕̪̫̗͗́̔̽͜ẍ̶̭͈̻̻̤͙̭͍́͒͌͆̎͐̄̏͝b̷̢͙͈͓̺̺̙͍̺̓ŷ̵̧̨̛͙̦̦̬̥̺̈́ͅl̴͕̞͕̪̤̭̻̬̗̲̓̋̍͗͗̀̚y̶̰̠͔͎̪͖̹̩̿̏͌̊͗̅̒̀͆͐̉̃͗͂̌̽̚t̶͔͉̀͛͗͗̈̕y̵̺͇͓͒̀̄̓̊̀̍͂́̓͠ ̶̧̩͉͉̹̖͇̯̠̺͇̓ͅç̶̨̙͎͕̖̂̎͛̐͗̂͘y̷̧̧̡̻͔̦͙͇̲̪͚̘̰̹̣̻͍͋̃ņ̴̨̰̰͈͉͚̲̩͓̻̟͒̅͐̒̈́́̉̈́̄́̾̂̋̚͜ ̶̡͙̰̱̣̜̲̬͔̠̮̿͐͋̑̊̾͒̀̎́̆̓̚͝͝s̵̨̡̨̬̪͎̭͉̊̊̽̇̃́̅͊̅́̉̆͜͝y̵̢͛̔̑̀͋̓͠v̶̧̢̰͇͉̯̻̣͇̘̤͈̏͜x̸͇͒͐̎̾̂̽̎̀̄̈̎̀̕͘͝ ̸̛̟̓̎͐̓́̓̿͌̇̍̕͘ẏ̶͇̥ẍ̶̻͍̟̥́͛̀̈́̓̒̆̄̽͘x̸̧̪̦͓̭̮̤͌͋̇̿͌͛͌͊͛̇͂̾́̎ͅ ̴̹̝̣̻̣͓̥͒̇͒̿̍͐̓͋͋̇̓̅̕͝f̵͎̫̣͕̹͍̹̠̲̺̜̖̼̥̼̌͆r̸̡̧̛͔͖̮̗̦̫͕͛̉̇̀̂̅͊̐͑̍̓̅̍̅͌x̴̡̼̮̘̥͔͉̿̀̋͂̅̅̑̉̏̑͆͌̿̆͜͝m̵̩̄͛̚ ̴̹́̒ỹ̶͈̠̯̟̾͛̈́͌̀̅́̈͌́͐̕̚ ̷̞̙̪͎̼͔̯̳͓͎̹͇̩͒͌̂̇͜b̶̨̘̤̱̥̠̣̐͂̈́̃͑̄̏̀̒͊̕̚͝͝͝ͅx̸̧̡̛̛̯̤̼̣̱͍́̒́̽̔̉͊̎͗͑̚̚͝͝r̸̟̄̀̏̀͑̄̊̈͠i̸̡̞̰͓̥̫̯̰̯̣̩͍̔̂̿̅̋̚͜͝n̶̡͈͇̖͇̘͐͗̓ǧ̶̲̤͙̯̤̞̭͔̫̱̞̂̋̊̌̌̈́̕ ̸̢̩͎̯̗̾̊͑͒̐̍͑̒̇̄ͅf̸̨̨̙̝̥͉͙̩̻̖̩̙̳̞̃̏͆͑̿x̵͔͓̼̣͎̗͖̱̻͐̐̇̽̉̆͆̕͜ẗ̴̰̻̙̗͉͑͂͂̾͋y̷̡̿̎̿̏̇̓́͝͝͠r̸̨͕̤͕̼͍̝̮̞͕̪̻͕͍̻̻̪̂͌x̷̪̜͔͇̲̭̻̜̠̰̲͉͇̰͓͊̅͗̀̈́͑͗̑̄̈́̊̄ͅ.̴͚͓̫͓͍̠̬͓̎̓͝"

.

Try as he might, Izuku couldn't begin to figure out such radical a change. He was supposed to use the goodwill confided on him to keep his heart strong and jump above each bump set on his path. Instead, it had been less than twenty-four hours without her beloved friend, and just that much was enough to make him unable of tolerating the bullshit he otherwise would've handled just fine.

He knew it was somehow his fault. No doubt his classmates, especially Bakugo, had some of the blame to account for. Not Junko though. It would never be her fault.

But that still left a nagging interrogative.

What would happen if, for whatever reason, Junko needs a whole week off?

Would Izuku be capable of hanging on through any adversity during such a period of time?

Would Junko be disappointed in having such a hopeless friend?

Each one of those thoughts was utterly terrifying.

.

"Ḭ̴͔̤̘̘̣͙̓̄̈̀̈̾̊̀́͒͌̋̉̈́͝ ̴̧̮̱͕̪͇̫̙̜̜͙͎̟̜̑̋͐͆̈̽̈́͌͒͐̓̀͗̆́̈́͝ẋ̵̨̢̖̣͓̫̌͗̆͛̈́̋̋̂͆͌̍̔̓͆d̷̻̂̓̈́̒͑̓́̿̈́͘͝m̸̡̖͇͍̉̄x̷̡̛͙̯̹̗̱̓̀̋̋̄ṱ̴̡͓͙̣̭̿̈̿͂͘̕͠ ̵̬̩͈̜̀́͊̂̂͐̍̏̑̈́̆͐̑̏̓̈͘Į̶̧͓̬̟̼͚̭̯̙̏ ̷̡̻̳̬̱̣͒͌̀̅͒̕͜d̴̡̢͔͇̲̗͇̠̣̿̔̿̿̽̿̂͊̉͛̓͘̚͜͝ͅx̷̣̬̒̌̋͛̐̊̓͌̏͝ͅń̶̢͈̱̤͚̥̜͙̑̂̂̋̀͆́́́̿͜'̵̨̢̧̞̘̝̙̤͇̝̼̹̞̻̣̯̍͊͋̈́͂̏̇͘t̸̗̝̹̘̹̮̖͇̦̜͇̻͎̟͚́̐̔̓̈̊̓̊͜͝͝ͅ ̷̯͕̘̺̟̩͉͉͖̖̱̀̌̽̈́̑͗͂͜k̷̢͙͈̜̘̖͍̱͎͚͚̏̉̆n̵̢̨̛̖̫̘̩͇͖̯̜̭̭̯̈́͆͒ͅy̸̩̟̘̗͗̓̉͊͑̃̐͗̂̎͜w̸̧̧̡̡̟̲̓ ̸̙̯̥̱̞͆̇͑m̶͖̣̗̱̥̳̘͉̏̂͒̿͐̌̂͐͛͋͐͠x̸̢̤͇̥̩̤͓͖̗͒̈́̂͐̆́͘͝͠ĉ̸̤̆͗̀͗̑̒͋̾̋͌̒̋̀̈̂͝h̸̢̰̟̭̼̘͖̹̖̹̑͊͊̾̋̔̈̀̋̈́̌̋͘͠ͅ ̸͈̂̓͑͗͒̋̑̎̽̀̒̇̕͝ä̷̛̼͉̤̖̬̥͖̩̹̯̻̝͕̒̂̿̆͂̄͌̈́͋̅̈́͝͝ͅͅͅb̵̧̫̪̙̭̰̦̪́̀̒͒̀̈́́̉̆̉̃͗͘̚͜ͅx̴̨̞̫͔̟̼̼͂͊̾͌̇́̓̌͑͐̈̈́͘͠y̶̛̛̝̠̦̞̎͋̉̈́̈́̈́̽̿̾̅̐̎̃͠t̶̨̛̠̦̠͍͔͓͎͎͚̩̟̪̭̭͂̔͐̌̐̈̀̊͌͗͘͘͠ͅ ̶̧̢͓̱̣̹̬̱͖͇̪̲̳̘͌̀̉̈́̽̓̀̈́̎̿͘͝ͅͅx̴̢̢̢̼̯̤̟̽̽̇̓̉̽̉̽͠t̴̢͕̻̲͈̮͐͑͠,̴̡̟͍̞͎͈̗̓̐̐̔́́̄ ̸̛̤̹̼̆̒̓̓̌͛͑̈̄̎̓͂n̸̞̹̤̘̊͋̑͆́͝x̷̯̝̠͔͚̗̦̃̈̔͌̽̀̿̾̿̒͑̈́͑͘͝y̴̠̳̞͖͈̻̮͙͚̘̻͎̯̫͆t̵͙̦̖̭̉́̆̒͒̓́͐̽̌͝͝͠h̸̡͙̲̗̞̞͖̫̙͋̉̃̒͋̇̈́̽̉͆͛͑͛̈͝͠x̶͕͑̐̆̍̄̅̔͛͆̔̔̈́̋̽̿͝͝r̵̛̙̗̜͓̩̝̲͔̰̞̩͉̼̈̽͌́̓͆͜͜ͅ ̵̛͙̯͎͂ͅͅḧ̴̢̛̟͚̻́́̑͗̈́̏̓͂̔̕ͅẍ̴̨̨͓̫̬͖̠̜̞̩̜̺͈̺͍͘͜w̵̻̼͙͖͗͌̅̊͋̈́͛̐͠ ̸͔̯͈̦̊̾̂͝Y̷̧̨̧̹̰̻̰̺͎̻͉̗͋͛̂̋͆̈̋͝ț̴̪͈̹͖̓̅̒̾͐͜ ̴͈̅̀͆͋̍͂̏̚̚͝c̶̙͈͇̻̺̝͕͕̼̩̥͙͖̾͑͝x̷̛̙̺̣͒̐̌̾͗̑͆̌̔̕m̷͉͉͚̪̮̠̬̟̟̜̰̮̉̄̋̉̕ͅp̵̡͎̆̽͒͆́ȳ̷̨̛͓̣̗͎̟̹̦̓̀̉̄͑͛̋͊͆̀͝r̸̨̨̡̰̠̠̻̪͔̟̈́͒͐͛̓̽͆̓̇̄̊͜ͅy̷̨̫̹̠͉̘̒̈̃͋͘͜ś̸̢͎̤̮͚̰̙͙̞͇͉͎̤̒̍̀̂̇̊͂̍͆͠ ̴̩̋͝w̶̡̡̨̠͎̰͙͕̭̩̮̣͇̝̖͈̋͗́̿̂̎̊̑̊̔͘͜͝x̵̧̧̰͎̪̹̱̝̲̀́̎̒͊͗̊̂͘̚͝͠t̵̢̧̡̛̗͎͚̗͍̪͖̪̼͇̟̬̘͆́̋̄̓̈͐̀̀̕͝ͅh̶̡̻̯̗̙̣̼̙̠͈̝̓̀̀̔̿ͅ ̵̡̳̖̠̯̪̝͕̩̤͉̙͒̐̀̀͋̏̀̚̚̕͘͝w̶̢̢͉̞̯̜̘͎͔̰͎̝̐̄̈́̀̕͜ͅͅh̸͙͓͉̹̣̬͇̄́̐͐͑̎̓̋̃͝͠x̷̨̻̮͓͎̽͊́͛̃̑̾̓̓̈́͝ț̶̹̩̋́̓͌̎̚͠ͅ ̵͖̯͉͙̖̠͚͕͎̠̆̈́͗̈́ͅy̶͕̟͖̞̘̼͕̯̖̖̤̙͎̯͕̔̎̒͗̈̀͒̋̎̿͘͘͜͠͠͝ͅx̶̧͓͇̼̜̜̞̲̝̘̪̥̑̉̑̽͋̚͝y̷̡̟͇̣̹̤͕̜͕͈̰̣̞̮̭̞̯̋͗ ̸̢̝̱͇̝̦̜̰̟͕͇̱̍̏͒̍t̷̨̧̫͇͔͇̳͎̀̀̅w̵͈̗̩͖̫̘̳̣͙̖̐̄ͅx̷̩̺͍̳̍̃̑̂͂̃͗͊̑̂̚̚͘̕͝ ̴̢̪̰̬͔̱̖̖̗͍͔̐͐̔̅̆͑̀̽͘k̸̨̰̤͍̘͎͍̯̞̑̆̇̚͜͠n̴̛̙͇̩̜̟̭̍͌͂̂͑͒͐͋̍̓̒x̴̡̬̬̩͔̰͓͖̘̠̬̋̊͋͘ͅͅw̴̡̮̱̠̮̰͎̩͕͉̦͔͐͗̓́̈̃́͘͘͘ͅͅ,̸̫͚͉̙͈̙̰͋͋̀̓̽̈́͊ ̴̺̩̉̇̇͗́͐̍͑́̀́͆̚̚͝b̵̠̳̰̻̙̃̈́̋̾͒͘͠x̶̢͙̼͔̻̺̯͚͇̼̹̣̲̰͒̽t̸̰̫̘͍͈͒̔̿̍̏̓̽̇̑̀͑ ̴̢̯̪̮͖̟̭̝̮͓͚̠̬̙̳̯͊̅̒̒̍̌͛̌̋̏͜͠͝ĥ̵̛͇̼̙͈̲̦͍͔̺̀̔̚͘͜ͅx̵̨̳̺̠̺̝̺̼̤̭͚͒͑̐͋̏v̷̨̰͔͕̲̭̭̞̈́͌̈́͗͛͜x̴̩̋ ̸̢̧̫̥̻̳̜̘̖̰͖͎̳̝̾̉́̉̊̓̃̈́̆͠ͅy̴̛̖̘̖̝̥̪̝̣̔́́͛̓x̴̟͔̳̹͚̦̊̋y̴̨̰̮̙͕͙̜̝͙̻̼̎̔͋͝ͅͅ ̵̛̮̘͍̲͎̖̺̤̭̮̝͕͂̒͆̇̈́̿͘͝͠ͅͅt̷̢̛̾̾̏̇͒̇̃͝h̷̥͚͍̞͓̯͈͛͒̔̿x̴̡̡̧̬̮̱̼͇̮͖̱̙̻̼̺̊͋̈́́̾͒̀̋̑̊͛̈͛̇͘ͅͅy̴̡͔͍̪͉͍̩͓̞̐̆͗̉́̚g̷̤͖̎̃̏͌̄̍̒̂͒͒̃̅̅ḩ̷̫̣̼͍̰̮͉̺̮̜̖͔̞͕̼̿̾̊̍͆̌̈́́͋͐͋t̸̢͇̯̜̾̃͌̈́ ̴͔͖̦͚̈́̾̀̋͊̑́̈́̇͝a̶̡̦̮̥̲̮̻̬̻̍̌͐͜b̶̡̡̛̘̗̫̘̜̼̞̬͔̹̻̎̒͑͒̕͘͠͝x̷̫̝̠̖̪͙̩̼͇̣̘̦̲̞̑̂̾͂̅͂̍̔̑̓̆̆͂̚̚͘͝ͅy̴̛̥̗̭̫̣̳̺̩͉͇̞̌̀̀̉̏͂͆͊̚͘t̶̨̝̬͍̯͍̯̘̮̥̱̼̙́̌͜͠ͅ ̷̼̫̗͍̉͊̎́͋͆̊̃̃͘̕͠ẗ̶͓̭̱̰̞̞͙͈̗̹̮́̀̒͋̌͒̃͗́͘͜h̵̢̩̬͙̗̦̹̠̯͇̱̄̀̀̈́̀͂̇̅̔̂̊̅̀͂̕͘x̸̪̻̔̃̔͗͛̔̂́̔̓͑͘͝ ̶̨̤̝̲͈̙̈́̀s̷̳̰̪̬̘͔̲͇̤͇͚̻͋͐͛͆̈́̉̈́͝͝ẙ̸̠̔̍͒͐̈̂̄̇̕͝p̷̨̡̦̤͉̥̦͉͇̻̓̍́͌̈́̀͊̓̚͝p̸̨̜͔͙͉̘͑̉̔͋̾͠͝ͅx̷̡͖̼̦͈͔̦͈̗̯̞͑̄͗͗̈͆̇͛̈́̈́͐̽͘͠͝͝ͅr̶̢̗̲̼̰̳̔̓̕̕ͅt̷̛͍̙̽̈́̒̍́͋̅́̄̀̆̀̕͝ ̴̢̳̤͔̣̑̉̓͛͐̾͋̐̔͛͐͗̽̾̓c̸̢̧̝͇̠̯̜̈͗̔͋̊̈́͘͝͝͠x̶̧̖̬͕̹̱̀͒͌̋͐͘̚y̸͓͒̔̿͂̿͂́̈̓͗̚r̵̡͎̙̺̰̲͍̟̞͉͌̀s̸͔͔͎̹̠͔̼̉̓̆x̵̡̨̩̜̝̲̭͕̤̲̻̄̐͑͆̉̂͂̐͆̒̚͜͝ ̴͇̭̫̼̹̟̦͕͚̾̈̋̈́̈́̈͐̏͜͜͝ͅp̵̹̪̞̗̯͑͊̒̒͑͆̇̿͝r̶͈͚̩͉̣̲̲̫̣͙̄̒̋̆̅̊ý̵͇͚̝̘͖̊̊̕g̷̲̿̾̽̈́́r̸̡̡͍̗̹͔͚̱͓̣̙̥̟̪̥͙̘̈́x̵̺̭̓͑̍̽̅͗̃̓̌̕͝m̴̦͓̫̻̺͓̜͓̞͈̤͕̉̓?̵͕̖̙̲̪͙͉̠̝̖̙͆̅͒ ̴̡͔͚̞̫̲̠̝̟̬̟͉̻̮͛̓̈́͗̀͑̈̌̽̾̀̉̆͒͛̀ͅX̷̧̯̦̦̆̇̈́̒͌͊̎͊̆̿́͝ţ̶̡̣͇̭̫̖̼͓̥͕͇̤̍̃̒̈́͑͗̈́̃̑̾̾̋́̌̍͘̕ ̸̮͓͖͖̾̐́͒͐̀͋́̌̃͝s̷̰̦̯̠̥̰̙̼̭̘̓̽͗̄͌̓͑͋̚x̵̧̢̧͇̘͖͉͈͎̳̮͈̗̣̭̜̦̂́̄̊̒̄̎͗͆̕y̵̨̗̤̟̗̭̻̘͒̃̆͂̊͋̈́̔͒̇̂̊̓͐̃̚ͅn̸̨̼̘͔̹͉̳̺̗̈́̽̽̉͑̌̅̃̃̉̕̕̚̚͜d̷̬̝̝̩̼͚̈́̂̍͐̔͊̀͘̚͝͝ͅs̷͇͓̲̱̲̮̦̭̣͙͋͊̅̓ͅ ̶͇͈̼̠̔͊̂̓̓̏̆͂̈́͘͝͝x̷̨̹̙͔̳͈̖̝̣̜̯̤͇̺͎̎̈͑̍̊̒̿͊̈̆͐̌͌͛̕͜͠͝ ̷̨̧̛̬̳͍̩͙̳̖̩̰͍͈̓̔͐̐̋͆̽̉̓̀̐b̸̮͈͇̯̤̔͑̂̈͑̾̈̃̌̇͗̆̾͘͠͝ḭ̷̡̣͉̟̤͐̍̇͌̕̕͜͝ţ̴̥̠̪̂͛̃͋͒͋͐̉̊̓̒͗̂ͅ ̵̥͚̘̖̱̅̆̉́̾͌͠ṭ̵̡̘͍͉̪͖̼̪̍̌͆͗̈̀x̷̧̳͓͚̘̣͚̱̪̀̀̋̋͒̒͂͠y̸̡͙͍̲͔̪̭͙̩̭͖̬̩̋̚ͅ ̶̨̢̛̰̲̠͇̺̞͙̙̜̣̗̥̈̃̃̍̒̆͒̇̉̂̾͊͜͠m̶̛̫̯̲͖̼̭͕̘̺̗̘̥̺͂̏͌͒̇̈͛̉͂̕͜x̸̨̱̟̩̞̻͍̺̳̬̘̻͎̝̘͎̖́c̷̡̢̛͉͕̟̮̳͚͍͙̬̱̋́̊̆̽̈́̂̀͑̒̚͜͠ȟ̴̡̢̢̘̪̉͗̈́͆̎̊̋̕͝,̷̡̯͇̙̩͉̼̻͕̦̪̪̥̰͊̍̑̔͌͑͌͐̍͊̆͝ ̶̨̡̢͈͙̝̦̲̙̲͔͖̺̈̈́̒̒̉̐̇͆͆͆̃͒̕b̶̛̞͂͆̀̀́̾̀̕͝x̶͕̪̮̿̉̑̐̂͐̒̅̎́͝͠t̷͇͛̋̈́̐͠͠ ̴̩̗̥͙͓̟̭̣̙̆̊̾̐̅̀͂̐̽̀̚͝I̴̧̪͓̹͇̱̱̩̮̙͙͚̭͍͋̾͐̾͗̾͘͜ ̶̧̪̥̥̗̼̻̐̚ͅư̶̙͉͙̯̲̲̞̗̯͇͖̖̻̪̜̼̽̇̈̎̌̒͐̎́͋̾́͌m̸̲̞̫͍̦̃̈́͌̽̓ ̴̣̱͈͓̝͎̳͎͙̞̣̻̤̅̐͌̀͌͗̐͌̈̐̽̅͒͋̕s̷̞̻͙̺̹̼͌͋̾͐̈́͌x̷̧̤̣̖̦͑̂̈́̑͛̕͝ṟ̶̩̺̤̜͈̻̻̝̣̮̞̓̔̐̐̆̈́̈́̍͑͝ͅṷ̴̡̨̱̯̳̖̝͖͉͙̖̯͎̩̪͎̇̀͆̀͋͋̍ ̵̧̭͓̯̣̭̺̰̞͎̲̻̦̬̤̦͒̏̍͊͊̃͠x̸͉͎̽̿̒͂̎͊͒̄̊͒̽́͘̚͠t̷̢̨̫͔̼̻̩͕̺̜͔̼̠̹̬̂̃̅͛̓͌̀̆̆̂̒̆͜ͅ ̸͎͈̙̖̌̆̉͊͛͂̎̈́̓́̚͘͝͝͠x̴̧͇͕͓̺̣͍̭̖͒̄̊̅ş̵̢͈̩͎̱̼̣̏͛̈̌͋̇̂͜͠ͅͅ ̷̡̧̛̛̭̮̤͕͙͉̥̦̫̲̱̩̩̒̀̑͋͋̾̌͜͝ñ̵̩͔̂̏͌̊͌ẍ̷̨̧̬̺́̐̐͛͊̾͝ẃ̵̡͚͓͚̙͖̘͇̪h̷̯̭̞͎͕̤̞̝̩͍͓̥̳͔̱̀̃̉͛́́̑̒̋̓̕͘͝ͅy̴̜̱̩̼̘̦͊̔̃̂̄͊̔̉̏̿͆̊̀͠ř̵̗̘͕͕͎̥̥̝͚̥̪̤͋̅̊͆̊͗̿̈́̂̾̑͘̚͘͜͝͝ͅx̶̩͇͎͉̙͚̖͇̟͉͂͐̏͐̆̀̿̈͝ ̸̨̧̥̞̜͕̺̮̺̦̞̦̌̓̽͆͐̐͌̄̾́̎̅̕n̴̙̥̟͍̭̗͙͕̗̹̖̞̅̓̔̆̐͘͜ẋ̵̢̛̱̗̼̯͖̬͔̜̬̘̗̖͊̈̐̃͆̍́̃̔̓͌̄͘͠y̷̧͖̥͑̾̓͑̓͒̿̂͊̌̚͝r̴̡͔̠͔̙̓ ̶̹͓̩̥͈̬̦̯̥̠̥̟̟̯͚͚͛̀̐ͅx̴̨̬̺̠̣͚̥̻͓̯̗̦͍͙̋͊̅̾̔͊̽̄̌̂̓̌͋̾̽̅̚ͅs̶̢̢̮̣̘̯͈̗̞̬͓͙̬͇͔̐́̍̉̊͜͠ͅ ̷̢̯̭͂̒̽d̴̨̗̺͓̬̰̺͉̣̭̔̑̆̕͠͝x̴̨̛͙̠̙̹̺͖̞̣͎̺̖͓̉̓̊͂̄͒̍̎̈́͋́̾̕̚͘n̸̨̛̻͎̝̘̯̩̬̖͐͐̃̍͆̾͂̔̾̾ͅg̵̹̪͚͍͖̫̜̝̀͌̆̿̅̚x̷̭̠̄͝͝ŗ̴̖̯̮̤͉̯̓́̅͑͋̈́̈́͝y̷̧̧̛̲͓̭̳̘̜̣̅͒̐̆̓̀̍̇͋̿̈͌̀̑̚͝x̶̨̛̗̮͍̙̦̯̰͔͔̣̮͓̭͈̜̿̔͋͑͘s̴̨̫̺̲̜͈̩̮̖͎̿͘͝ ̶̢̪̟͖̣͍̰͎̥͎̫͕͌̽͋̈́̕x̵̧̢͔̯͈͔̯̥̭̙̬̰͈͚̺̃̓̇͐̚s̵̩͔̉̈̀̓̄̒͗̂̑̒̋͑̕͘ ̷̢̛̬̥̪̜͎̻͓̟̹̣̩̳̱͐̆̾̀̕͝͠b̴̛͎̭͖̣͕̒̾̉̽̎̌̏̀̇̍̑̾̈͘͝ý̷͍̰̐̆̕x̶̧̡̹̼̲̺̻̞̱̩̠̯̳̱̖̏̋͒̈́̀͘n̸̛͖̦͍̙̻̱̺̳̞̜̲̜̳͂̌͗̾̃̑͗̈́̓̚͘̚ͅg̷̨̬͉̖̥̟̲̜͕̪̝̞͖̜̩͔̦̃ ̷̯́̏̋x̷̢̗̳̺̪̩̉̔ͅ ̴̛͕̝̩͆̒͂͌̊̆̀͋͘͝h̸̭͙̩̙̱̮̫̻͙̘̻̩́́͛̀͑͆̆̀y̷̨̡̨̢̧̮͉̼̠̘̪̬͎̗̗̩̙̋̔́̀͗́̊͂̔̈́̒̌̊r̵̨̧̢͈̯̯̘͇̦̝͉͌̂̓̆̐̆̔͑̓̓͆̈́̄̚̚x̷̧̱̮̪̺̣͙͎͚́͐̂̾̌́̋̿̂͋͗̇̚ͅͅ.̵̨̯̯̭̼͔͉̗͉̓́̊̔͜"

.

Izuku certainly hoped that neither of those cases were put to test.

Junko was the taste of paradise he had longed for an entire decade. A longing that had deepened the older he grew and the more depressing his life became.

Could he even confidently say he was capable of living without her at this point? Because if he had to answer that question right now...

...

...By the way, was it just his imagination or his ears have been picking up nothing but static for the past three minutes?

.

"B̶̨̰̭̝̝̜̭͆̂̾͋̽̿̐̈͋͋͘͝l̴̨̢̛͙͍̻͓͙͓͙̤͍̝͓͉͚̬̼̀̅̾̉͊̾̀̆̅̿̈͌̃̕x̴̧̼̙̲̦̘̞̘̓̔̎͑͌̐́͆͜͝h̵̰͙̓̂́̎̉̅̽̐͐̆ ̵̝̗̬͎̠̘̠̙̞̗̝̈̈́̄̂̉͂̇̂̚͘͝ͅͅB̷̨̧̳̭̠̗̝̘̩̭̬̩̳̙̮͋̋̕l̸̢͇̥̮̟͓̥̱̜̝̤̻͙͙͉̜̒͝͝ͅx̸̡̡̪̺̯̟͉̲͍̤͎͎͒̈́͌͑͗̓͊̾͐͑͒̾̒̅̋͛͘͜͜h̸̻̰̦̻͖̞̪̜̟̖͍̿̋̊͊̇̎͐̅̆͌̓̏̉͜ͅ ̸̮͚̗̮̼̳̠̳̦͚͇̻͊͌͛̉͋̋̀͗͝B̵͓̖̙̲̥̠̮͙̟̫̦͎̦̖̓̊̽l̵̳̰͇̮͇̹̄͆x̵̧̛̛͚̦̗̪̰̠̤͉̘̗̩͕̖͑͂͐͊̎̊̈́̾̚͠h̶̨̢̘͕͚̬̹̜̜͓̻̻͗̆͌̓̇͝,̴̦̲̺́̈́̄̐̏͒̌̓ͅ ̵̢͎̘̮̭͔͔͖̈́̀͝Y̴̧̠̭͘ ̸̛̤̣̑̈̈́̐̒̆͘͠y̷̨̟̪̜̻͈̟͙̱̠͖̘͌͒̏̏̅͛̆̏͆̀͌̀̃̚͜͝ṃ̸̢̣͙̫̱̥̹̫̌͊̐͑͂̌̍͝͝ ̷̢̧̢̯̹͇̱̙̙̝̫̝͉̣̈́̾͑͗̄̅͝͠ͅx̸̢̧̺̯̰͔͈͎͇̭͑̍̓̉̐͊͒̅̌̎̓̄̇̈́͝͝ ̷̼̲̥͔̟̗̮̘͔͈̥͔̎̀̈̌͌̐̅̈́́̈́͐̾̊̓͗́f̶̪̤͙͇͚̗̉̈͐͛̿̓̀̐̈̔̓̾̾̈́y̶̛̫̙̆̈́̃̈́̑͛̅̔̑͐̏͒̈́̕͝ť̶͍̠̜̞̯̤͉͈̜͛̈́̈̄́̐͐̆̊͋͋̓̂̽͝͝ ̵̨̹͚̬̬̪̺̝̟̘̻̪͔̖͌͆ẃ̵̛̮̮̩͚͉̫̞̬̯̼́̑̀́ḩ̸̝̘͙̤͕̪̅̀̐̊̏̏͌̊̈́͌̔͌͌̎̕y̶̢̧̢̼̺͉̪̜͍͇̼͈͓̆͒̍̀̇͑̀̉͌̍̍̃̊̃̅̚͝ŗ̴̪͙̜̬͍̖̦̳̩͓͍̠̟̀̎͊̈́̂̕ͅý̴̡̢̨̭͍͔̠͙̤̜̏̈́̃̃̾̃͌͌́̉́̏̉͜͜ ̵̨̛̱̤̹̪͎̞̫͖̲̜̥̼̹͙͚̈́̂̓̐́͌̃̎̎̄̒̌̕͠t̶̡̰̞͖̘̠̹͌́̇̎̐̃͌̋͝ḧ̵̡́͐̈́͋̆̔̈́̈́̓͒̾͋͊̌̑ẏ̶̛͍͚̘͕̻̍̌̂̀̂̈́́̈́̚͝ẗ̵̢̩̠͍̖̻̼͉́ ̶̛̙̻̞̘͇̪̠̜̭̗̭͖̮c̴̨̛̱̳̭͕̳̟̳̭͉̟̲͓̘̹̲̈́̇̀͐̌͋̄̀͘̕͝ẏ̵̧̨͈̗͒̉͛̚n̸̡̤͚̯̪̝̥̺͕͙̣͛͐̍̇'̷͖͇̘̪̪͓̲͎͒̿̐̅́̊̆̓̀̽̀̇̊̄̆̽̚͜t̵͎͓̫̘͎͈̣̜̱̥͇̬̪́̋͂̋̽͌̌ ̷̡͙͚̬̩̘͚̣͉̓̋̓̅͗̌̓̓̈́͛́̈́̉t̷̡͙̣̮̠͙̣͙̮̃́̀x̵͍͉͙̪̼͉̥͔̝̮͇̻̯̘̑̽̏͜l̷̙͎͈̪͎̘̹͎̺̖̠͎̘̜̐̈́͋͝y̷̛̛͔̠̾͑̈͛̆́̂̾̉̏̚̕̕͝͝ŗ̵͈̞͙̬͉̞̜͌͂͠͝x̵̛̩̪͇̪̬̹̞͎͍͖̲̰͎̻̤̎̇̋ţ̶̛̛͉̝̭̣͈̰̳͚̖̬͉̜̝͋́̈̽̍̈̓̋̇̿̕͝x̷̨̨͎̜̜̜̜͚̭̹͖̚͜ ̵͖͎̠͖̬̹̜̞͛͂̓t̵̬̟̰̦̩̀͂͒͒́̓ͅh̶̛̖̞̺̹̯͖̙͒͆̔̃̾́̆͊̔͋̉̄̈́̔̍̚y̶̛͉̣͎̮̰̻̠̖̜̙̠̮̟͈̪̖̆́͒͑̈́͆̾͝ͅ ̸̡̫̱̗̯̊́̍̿̈́̑̐̑͠ỳ̵̖̗͖͕͓̰̠̹̳͙͍̹͕̗̘̠̯̊̕d̷̛̩̣͕̎̈́͌̈́̾̄́̿͝ͅx̶̖̩̱̞̮͍̜͎̻̪͋̾̍̑̃͂̈́̎̑y̵̧̭̹̣̻̆̍̀ ̷̜̟́͋̀̔͂̌̈́͌̇̓̇̾͛̉̈̌̎x̶͕̟͇̤̟̫͎̲̪̘̪̲̥͓̤̑̑̾͒̊̽̌̆̒̒̽͑̃̀̀f̸̙͙̮̞̜̎͆͌̐̊͆ ̷̨̩̫̖͓̮̖̬͍̪̲͍̫̟̋̓̿́̋̒̈́͝͝h̴̟͓̓̾͛̒͒̑̓́̄̅͆͌̑̚͝͝y̵̧̡̛̦͔̞̱̥̘̣̯̻͔̑̔́͑͌̌̈̆̌́̚͠͝ͅs̴̡̡̲̖̊̂̒̈́͆̊̔̑̅͆̕̚͜ ̷̳̐͠s̸̟̼͊́̆́̔͒̈͛͊͗̈́̇͋̈y̶̨̢̖̝̰͇̣̦̺̦̦͇̜̗̙͖̾̀̽̊̇̓̕n̶̢͂͒ ̸̳̖͚̰̻̞̥͇̘͈͙̐͑́ͅḑ̷̧̨͙̲͇͉̣̙͕͇̠̟̫͍̟͊̒͌̌̎̋̽̆̄̕͘͘͠x̸̨̦̦̰͉̙̻͗i̴̛͎͓̞̙͋͋͌͂̈́͒͒͗̀̑̕̕n̸̠̮͓͙͖͆́g̶̜̫̠̟̬̟̖̥͉̙͍͋̋ ̴̨̣̼̫͓̠̫͈̐̀̽̈́͂̎̽͑̊̀̾̓͂x̶̥͓͇͍̝̲͇͓̟͉̞̩̫͒̓̎̐̔͆͐̐̂͐͒̀͜͠͠ņ̵͙̟͇͙̝̋̆̈́̈́̋̕͝y̸͖̼̼̟̪̺͎͔̟̤͒͒͐͋̕̕͘͝͠ͅt̷̪̱̦̭͉̆̊͋̈́̔̊ḩ̶̱̦̰̟̥͖̀̂́̔͐̀̎̔͝x̷̢̛̮̝͓͊͐̇̈́̋̚̚n̵̡̺̫̗̜̲͔̬͙̹̹̞̞̦͍̓͌̓̀̽̀̆̀̃̍̈̔͂̕̚͘ͅģ̸̹̣̲̦̪͈͂̇̋̈́̆̃̋̈̐̑̍͑͊̋̿͘͠ ̵̧͎̹̅͆̆̿̓́̀̓̿̓y̸̡̗͔͖̫͙̻͒̈͋̑̿͌̔̀̾͘͜ļ̴̫͇͎̟͉̫̭̣̫̜̽͋̈́̉́̍͘͜͜ş̴͚͖̞̺̝̱̭̼͍̱͈͖̦͋̅̀͐̇̓͆̈́̊̊̚̕͘͠ͅy̶̨̻̲͖̜͕͓̦̠̜̤̞̝͌̊̾̀̉̚͝ ̵̧̻̠̣͓̝̪̗͉̫̞̖͔̖̀̓̒̿͘͜ͅb̵̧̨̨̨̛͍̙̺͇̈́̒̑̄͂̚x̶̙̤̀̾͂̔̉̆̃̾̆͘y̴̛̛̠̣͂̋̽̾̑̎̓͑̽̀̎͒͌͝x̵̯̙͕̖̠̖̻̉̈́ͅn̸̨̧̡̨̹̣͙͇̪̜̄͂̉̈́̍ͅḑ̴̨̡̟͚̙͎̙̩̭͕͆ͅ ̵̧̡̬̪̳̹̮͕̮̤̖̱͑͜s̸̖̪͊̓̌͂̈́͆͗̕͝ͅh̴̢͙̫͖͍͈̽̎͋̓̓͌̎̈͆̂̓̉̿y̷͍̫͈͎͒͌̇̊̊͌̊͊̍̓̿̉̿͛̓̽̓ẗ̷̟̘̮͈̥̤́̅̓̀̋̂̅͛͗͌̑͛̐́͋͜͝t̴̛̤̿̇̌̈́x̵̢̱͚̘̭̠͉̏̑̄̀̓͜͜ń̶̢̞̰̥̭̣̭̜̹̻͖̱̯̞ġ̶̛̲̪͇͔̮̞̫͆̐̔̔͛̃̒̆͌̏̌̕ ̶͈̬̑͛̌͘x̷̢̦͙̫̯̱̰̠̟̑͑̂͌̄̆̌̀͗̑́̚ͅn̸͖͓͂̀̂̈́͘ ̸̢̛̛̯̹̟̬̣̩̖͊̓̒̃͌̌́̕̚ḣ̴̨͎͔̭͍͇̪̉͒͒̈͆̋͊̿́̓̾̚̚x̴̳̹̩̼̯̖̗̙̹̏s̶̨̰͐͐͆͑̐͗̆͑̆͂̒̆̓̉͛̅̆ ̵̡̡̬̺̹̪̗̘̮͔̝̭̱̲̗̲̆͒́̈̇̊̕̚͝d̵̡̡̡̗̣͇̩̤̫̖̹͎̊̈̍͑̅̄̓̅̒̐y̴̧̜̮̙̼͇͝͝x̸̢̢̟̼͍̘͙̥̰̠͇͕̰̂ͅp̷͚͔̳̙͕̰̙͈͔̰͕̫͎͍̉́̊͌͛͠ͅx̵͚̜͆͗ŗ̵̙̠̰͕̜̝̣̝̱̗̅́́͊̆͗̌͌͊͐̿̈́̍̓̒͝ ̴̛̰͓̝͈̞͙̩͙̫̱̱̥̇͐͛̈́̔͊͐̏͂̀̄̐̏͗͝y̸͉̱̺̲͎̲̏̈́̂̍̏̔̍̿͗͒͆̄̌̚̚͝͝n̵̛̦̗̗̜̫͇̼͚̳̝̉̾̅͒̓́́̃̔̀ͅd̶̡̧̧̛͎̺̳͇͖̯̹̠̼̖͎̂̀̓̓̌̇͂͒͗̓̇̚͠ͅ ̵̭̃̿̓̑͑͆̍̏̇ẏ̵͙͔̣̹̹̟̾͝s̴̨̢̢̖͇̥̠̬͚̥͙̄͂͑͌͌̅̀̏̄̿̀͑̀̏̾̑͌k̶͖͆͊̕͝x̸̝͈̩͉͔̉̔̒̋͗̄̓n̶̨̨̟͙̹͚̲͖͚̹̾͗̿̎̒̔̑́͐́͘͠g̴̜̘̭̰͖͇̫͐̀͛̍̈́͋̐͗̔͌̿̕͝ ̷̡̦̮̲͉̻͙͉̝̀͂͗̈́̏̈́̂̄h̴̡͇̠̖̟͍͖̺̅͊̉̉̇̈́͗̓͘͜͝͝x̴̨͇͇̏͝r̶̨̨̧͈͚̩̹͎̝̻̠͚͔̭͑̈͐̆̃̓̇̈́́̑̚̚͜ͅ ̵̢̨̧̛͙̻͓͕̗̘̘̌̊̅̒̾͐̒̽̉̈́̑̓̔̽̃͜f̵̫̜̱͓̭̤͚̱͕̣̦̥̦͍̲̤̑̈́̃̎͊̉ÿ̶̢͎͉̘̗͔̖̺̥̝͓́͌̉̈́͝ŗ̸̛͍̮̞͇̙̻̘̗̱̀̉͑ͅ ̵͕̗̘͚̯̭̜̝̊̎̌͛̀̿̾̀ͅh̴̹̳̖̭̟̃̋͑̃̋͌x̷̠̜͍̝̲͚̩̋͑̅̏̏́̌̐͑̀̕͘͝l̸͕̰͔̺͚͇͛̾̒̈͊̀̂̀p̸̝̙̟̦̽̈́́̌̄̓̋̉͂̾͒͒ͅ.̴̧͔͔̮̣̖͉̲͖͔̙̗̌̋̏͂́̅́̑́͑̄͘͘͘͘͠ͅ"

.

Anyways, there was one thing he was sure of.

He just couldn't take it anymore.

"I know this isn't what you initially wished for, but I am sure you will get to appreciate an alternative like―"

"HAVEN'T YOU HEARD ANYTHING OF WHAT I SAID!?"

"E-Eh!?" His mother fearfully gasped and, at some point he never noticed, she separated a pair of feet away from him. "I…Izuku, you…shouted…"

Whatever expression was fixed on his face during his deranged howl, it all contorted back before shifting one more time, with Izuku's eyes widening, and a terrified gasp leaving his mouth.

I truly did that?

What is wrong with me?

Today truly wasn't his day, was it? And now he was taking it on his poor mother. He will have to reflect on that between the afternoon and evening.

After all, reproachable as it was, that and him regretting his opposition to what she was suggesting were two whole different matters, and one of them was required to be addressed right at this very moment.

"I…I did. It fills me with regret doing something like that. It was wrong of me to react like that…but I really, really, need you to listen," He tried to sound diplomatic because at this point it was the best he could aim for. That being said, he also knew this was a disaster and that he had long since reached the point of no return. With his emotions finally snapping, despair and unvented anger courting with each other, Izuku saw no option other than going all in. "All…A-All my life, the only thing I've longed for was someone, anyone, to believe in me. For a person to look at me directly in the eyes and told me without any falsehood whatsoever that I could do it."

"B-But," His mother began. "Izuku, sweetheart, I do believe that you can be something in your life!"

"Yeah…everything but a hero." The way she looked away was enough of an answer. "Well, you know what? Against your and everyone else's expectations, I found that person. That someone who saw beyond the frail and useless Izuku that couldn't even stand on his own two feet just two months ago. It wasn't Bakugo, any of my classmates or professors, All Might, or anyone who had some influence in my life for the past fourteen years. Not even you, Mom. I truly wish it was you, but…No, it was who just a few months ago could be considered a total stranger. Her name is Junko Enoshima, someone who had the least reason to give me any chance, and yet, she has done more than all those people combined…including you."

"Izuku…"

Hearing that was everything Izuku required for the realization of everything he said to dawn on him. Looking down, his heart ached at seeing his mother's current condition. With tears trailing down her cheeks, all the while looking at Izuku as if she couldn't recognize that person who resembled his son.

"Mom…I'm sorry…"

This probably was, no, it was undoubtedly their first big discussion, and the guilt it was causing him felt like a thousand thorns cruelly wrapping all around his body.

"I'm really sorry…"

It was the accumulated stress, Izuku didn't doubt that. Dealing with his classmates ended up being too much, and regretfully, his mother ended up paying for the mess those despicable worms caused. Nevertheless, Izuku knew that wasn't an excuse.

"I…I'm sorry, but," Even so, despite it tearing him apart from the inside out, the resolve Junko tempered on him was far stronger, "So long as my friend supports me, I am not going to stop. Even if you try to forbid it, I will find a way to continue with my dream. I can't defraud the first and only person who had ever believed in me."

His mother didn't say anything at that, she just stood there while holding her face in her hands, whimpering. That only made the remorse twice as suffocating.

One of his hands reached out for her…only for the other to hold it. As things stood now, Izuku feared the small but not impossible chance of his mother convincing him to retract everything he said.

He couldn't, not when he had come so far.

Without saying another word, he left her mother be and strolled towards his room. His steps morphed into a shameful walk as the cries of his mother intertwined with sobbing apologies that echoed in the hall.

Out of all the despairful successions throughout the day, this was likely the one that hit the hardest.

---

Was he in the wrong?

Izuku wondered that while lying on his bed, with his unfocused eyes lingering on the ceiling. Almost as if hoping for the edges of his room to talk and give him the answer he was looking for.

Of course it was wrong to snap at his mother like that. No son should address their mother with such disrespect.

That being said, his doubts about whether he was wrong or not came from the fact that, for the first time in more than a month, Izuku questioned his dream.

Although he told to himself that Junko's reassurances build an impenetrable armor around it. The truth of the matter was that the assaults the entire world seemed intended on making at his carapace left its fair share of dents. Today's helplessness to do something about the scribbles on his desk, to defend himself against Bakugo, and most recently, his mother losing her faith in him for a second time. Combined, the three of them hit the hardest.

Was he truly destined to be anything but a hero?

He keep himself slumped in his bed while that question gnawed at his head. Doing nothing else beyond pondering and staring. His mind was so numb about the whole ordeal that, without Izuku noticing it, the moonlight began to caress his face.

Time sure flies when you have your mind occupied.

Izuku still lacked a satisfactory answer, though. In one last desperate attempt for it, he decided that reminiscing about his whole life might hold the hidden answers to his dilemma. Like separating all sorts of stuff on a balance and letting it be its unbiased judge of which side weighted the most. Or something like that, perhaps?

At the very least, it sounded like a decent enough plan in his head.

With that course of action in mind, he began to reminisce like he had never done in his life.

He reminisced about his childhood.

About his first big deception at the age of four.

About the first time he was called Deku.

About the moment his father accepted that job offer for the sake of the family. That other family Izuku wasn't part of.

About every occasion he was told his dream couldn't be fulfilled.

About the day Bakugo suggested putting a definitive end to everything.

About the disappointing day he met All Might

About the glorious day he met Junko.

About that day… when Bakugo burned the first training schedule Junko made for him, punched him until losing consciousness, and perhaps some more. All the while his classmates mocked the authenticity of his friendship with Junko, laughed at his near-death experience and contributed at it with the occasional kick at his sides.

About every single moment he had spent with Junko, and the day and night difference that it was when compared to any other time of his life.

Finally, and way easier than he thought it would be, Izuku acquired the conclusion he was looking for.

"Screw it."

That was a word Izuku wasn't used to include in his vocabulary. Curses in general weren't for that matter. However, that was a norm his thoughts had already been breaking as of recently, hadn't they?

Besides, Izuku would be lying if he denied how…liberating that felt.

It truly was, wasn't it?

Screw it.

Screw them.

Screw everyone who looked down on him.

Screw the teachers who always turned a blind eye at his existence.

Screw the doctor who diagnosed him as quirkless!

Screw his classmates!

Screw Bakugo!

SCREW ALL MIGHT!

SCREW ANYONE WHOSE NAME WASN'T JUNKO ENOSHIMA!

Was that how things were going to be between him and the rest of the world? With it despising him and him being forced to take it in stride?

Fine!

Whether they liked it or not, he will become a hero who, whether he hates them or not, will save them if the situation requires it so!

Because, just like Junko assured him, that was what a hero was all about. Doing the right thing regardless of circumstances.

Regardless of whether people around him preferred it or not.

Regardless of whether society deemed it illegal or not.

With determination running through his body, Izuku jumped out of his bed and rummaged through his nearby backpack in search of his phone. Once in his hands, and with no hesitation whatsoever, he dialed up the number of the only person he could trust in this world.

Never being one to let him down, the person on the other side of the line didn't waste a moment in picking up his call.

"Zuzu?"

"I will do it!" Izuku said without a hint of uncertainty. "I will go with the clause for graduation the transition phase mentioned."

"…Upu…Upupupupu~,"

"Junko?"

"Ah, sorry Zuzu, I'm just so excited! It is good to hear you came to this decision!"

"Right," His voice turned even more confident, encouraged by hearing his friend's own enthusiasm. "I had the whole day to think about this and…well, I received enough insight to know this is for the best."

"Of course. Welp, that settles it!" His friend cheerily declared. "On two weeks from now, after we make the proper preparations, we will do it. We will take one step further into making you what you always were meant to be~."

"Yeah!" Izuku exclaimed, just as pumped up as his friend. Although he couldn't help feeling a tad awkward about what he had to say next. "Ah, um, that was about the only thing I had to say for today. Sorry for calling you all of sudden, Junko."

If it were up to him, Izuku would stay all night talking with her. However, he didn't want to be an inconvenience.

"Eh, don't sweat it! If it's for my best and only friend in this world, I will always be all ears," Junko happily said, unbeknownst making him shiver in delight. Her following words turned gentler. "'Night, Zuzu. Make sure you are properly rested for the incoming days. You will need it for what awaits you."

"Mhm! Goodnight, Junko." Izuku hummed contently in agreement. He put his phone away from his ear and stared at it with a fond expression for a few moments before ending the call.

With a firm grip, he held the device close to his chest and slumped in his bed. The frustration, the pent-up anger, the despair. Every single demon that tormented him thorough the day was gone, and the only thing it took for him to feel renewed with optimistic vigor was a single call and hear her voice.

And so, with the sense of purpose cursing through his veins, his smile turned into a resolved thin line before making an oath to himself.

For his sake.

For the sake of the only person who ever believed in him.

For the sake of the only person that matters.

He will do it.

He will become a Hero worthy of Junko!