Izuku is pretty sure he's dying.
Okay, maybe he's being a bit of a drama queen.
But as he stumbles around the training ground, his muscles screaming in pain, and his head pounding, he thinks he might genuinely be dying.
In a blink he loses his footing and falls face-flat on the concrete with a sickening thud. Good think he ducked his head in time or his nose would be broken.
He hears footsteps, people saying something to him, but his head feels so heavy. He can't discern what they want from him. He can't get up, he can't train more, he'll die. That's how he feels.
But— He has to train, has to be stronger, has to make his quirk better, more his. Otherwise who is going to save him? Save his friends? Family?
So he pushes himself up ignoring the hushed yells thrown his way, and stumbles backwards, trying to get back into his section of the training ground.
Strong arms catch him as he trips over his own feet and falls for the second time of the day. The person asks questions, but he is a little too delirious to catch them. His vision stabilises a little and he recognizes Aizawa-sensei. Oh no, he's gonna get scolded for not doing enough, but he's trying, he promises, he's trying—
Sensei's weapon wraps around him like a cocoon and he's forced still as the man takes him on his back, saying something to the rest of the class. He only catches one word: 'infirmary'.
Oh. He was useless. Again. And now he's a burden.
He sobs quietly into the cocoon, inconsolable.