Trigger Warnings:

- The chapter title gives away the biggest one: suicide

- implied PTSD

When I am deep in the labyrinth of hallways, Endeavor stops me in my tracks.

I stare at him dead in the eye and say nothing.

"You're not going to say 'Out of my way?'"

When no response comes from me, he continues. "The flame control of your right side ... it's still too dangerous, like you can't take your foot off the pedal. But now that you have abandoned all that childish whining, you've finally become the perfect upgrade of me!" He extends his hand toward me. "After you've graduated, come back to me! I'll let you be the one to walk the conqueror's path!"

The words pierce me like never before. Now that he is done with his spiel, I speak carefully. "There's no way I could just let go of that 'whining.'" That is not what he wanted to hear, and I don't feel any remorse for it. Instead, I raise my left hand and study at it. "There's no way things could flip around so easily. It's just that at that moment, that second, I forgot you." I clench my fist in finality.

I walk past him, and know that he is turning his head and gazing at my retreating back. "As for whether that was good or bad, or right, or whatever ... I need to think a little," I finish.

Gratefully, he doesn't follow me. Strolling through the hallways, looking where I can get an extra uniform, I tear off what remains of my shirt and dump it in the dustbin.

With it, my emotional high falls. Those feelings of burning fury, fervor, and conviction from before die. Even my coldness melts away. All I'm left with is an abyss of despair. Overwhelming despair. It's so much that I stop partway and slump against a wall.

My legs bend at the knees, and my elbows rest on them. Subconsciously, my fingers form that steeple, and I rest my head against it, trying to calm myself. It's not working.

I guess what they say about passion is true: it dies as quickly as it comes. Now that all the euphoria has left my body, I just feel so lonely. So tired. So sad.

My birth was not out of love. It was out of one man's selfish desire to create a puppet: he will hold the strings, and I will dance to his tunes. From the start, I was just to be someone's tool. And when I refused, I was punished wrongfully. First he took me away from my siblings, then he took me away from my mother. Now he's taking me away from whatever happiness I can salvage.

Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

What did I do to deserve any of this? Why was I born into this? If there is such a thing as karma and reincarnation, were my sins from my previous life so terrible that I'm paying for them even in this life? If I died, would I still have to carry them? Or could I be born into another family? Born out of love and live a life full of joy. That would be so much better than what I'm living now.

Maybe if I died, everything would be better ...

"Don't do it," a female voice calls out, bringing me out of my dark train of thoughts.

I peer up, and Hanada-chan's standing just a meter away from me. She observes me with wariness. "Don't do it," she repeats.

"Don't do what?" I ask, confused.

She covers that meter and sits just in front of me. "That expression on your face. I recognize it. I've worn the same expression countless times myself. That's why I'm telling you: don't do it."

I huff in frustration. "Don't do what, exactly?"

"Kill yourself."

She reads me too well. I sigh, "I wasn't actually going to do it. It was a spur of the moment thing. There and gone. It won't happen again."

She laughs softly. "We all said that at one point or another. And then it became too late."

"What do you mean?"

"Suicide does not always happen the way as portrayed in cinema, with one emotionally traumatic event pushing a person off the edge. Sometimes it happens slowly. Sometimes reality comes crashing down on you. Other times reality simply waits, patiently, for you to run out of energy it takes to deny it. Sometimes it is a culmination of emotional events here and there that ultimately drive a person to end life. The first scarring experience occurs, and we entertain the notion of dying. Immediately, we ignore it. Later, another traumatizing episode occurs. The notion is considered again, and it is a little harder this time to push it away. Then a third episode occurs, then a fourth, and a fifth, and so on. Each time, it becomes harder and harder to reject the idea, and one day, we give in. We no longer have the strength to fight it anymore."

Hearing that, my eyes glisten with unshed tears. It's getting harder to keep them back.

"Tell me something, Todoroki-kun," she continues. "Is this the first time you've contemplated ending your life?"

I hesitate before responding. "No. This isn't the first."

Now she smiles softly. "Better now than never, I suppose. This is not something that will fade by itself over time. Companionship is the cure. Do you have someone to whom you can confide in about these feelings?"

"Are you offering yourself to be my therapist? You are only ten months younger than me," I counter.

"No," she snorts. "That is up to you to decide. If you want to tell me, I will listen, but I will not force you under any condition." I'm barely able to restrain the waterfall of tears. But I am distracted when she slowly reaches out and envelops my hands with her sapphire gloved ones. She doesn't meet my eyes, instead focusing on pressing various parts of my hands. "Back in England, I completed my physical education requirement with yoga. One of the lessons was hand reflexology. It turns out that there are pressure points in the hands that, when pressed, relieve anxiety and stress and ease breathing."

It's my turn to chuckle sadly. "So you became an amateur physical therapist while you were in the UK. I mean, England. Ugh. Same thing."

This makes her look up, and she cocks a brow. "Allow me to enlighten you, Mr. Todoroki Shouto. The United Kingdom, abbreviated UK, is an island just north of France. It comprises three countries: Scotland in the north, England in the south, and Wales in the west. People from England are English, from Scotland are Scottish, and from Wales are Welsh. If you want to refer to the people of the island collectively, then you call them British, which comes from the old name of the island, Great Britain. Now, do I have to explain that Ireland is not part of the UK, or do you know that essential bit of geography?" She says all of this coolly but with a strong undercurrent of chastisement. It's scarier how she presses even harder throughout.

Afraid, I respond hurriedly. "No. I know that detail. Sorry for my ignorance. It won't happen again."

She gives my hands one last squeeze and says, "Good. Honestly, it's astonishing how many people don't know the difference," before returning to that gentle massage. "I suppose I'm being a little harsh, though. There was one girl in my class who made the most ridiculous statement ever: Japanese, Korean, and Chinese language alphabets appear identical. She was far more ignorant than you."

I'm certain my mouth drops a little. "No freaking way. Are you being serious?"

"I wish I were joking. But that did come as a reality check of just how clueless people can be."

I laugh in shock and agreement, but the mirth fades and the misery comes back. A question nags at me. "Hanada-chan, about what you said of how suicide can happen. Have you ever ... I mean, did you ... I mean-"

"Have I ever felt the urge to die?" she interrupts, finishing my thought bluntly. I nod. "Yes. Innumerable times. Have I ever acted upon them? Yes. 22 times." I let that number sink in. 22 ... That night when she appeared in my dream happened so long ago, but now it feels like it occurred yesterday. Did she attempt suicide then? And the painful words she cried when she had that traumatic relapse that day ring in my head. As I stare at her in shock, I watch her own eyes start to well up. I'm about to ask her what happened to her that pushed her to do that, but she interrupts me again. "Enough about me. You didn't answer my earlier question. Do you have someone you can share your feelings with? Potentially besides me, of course."

"I ... I don't know. My siblings have felt a great measure of my dad's abuse, so they could support me. But they're not available all the time, and more importantly, I don't want to burden them with my problems. They're already trying to do their best to recover."

She's quiet for a while. From the way she looks away, I can tell she's contemplating something, too. However, her words stun me. "How about your mother? Would she understand?" At the mention of my mom, I flinch instinctively and snatch my hands away from her to hide my scar. Now she's surprised. Her hands just hover in the place where she cradled mine, and she whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know that your mother was a sensitive topic for you. I apologize." But her words are not reaching me. My tears run like a river. All the abuse my father put my mother through, and how she took it out on me, the memories rush like a flood. I'm drowning in one memory after the other.

I don't even hear Hanada-chan calling out my name until she rests her hands on top of my own again and gently pries them away from my scar. Then she lets go to retrieve a handkerchief from her uniform pocket and gives it to me. It's different from the one she used during her match with Kaminari with a sea green background decorated with pink cherry blossoms. So like her. My gaze alternates between her and the handkerchief, not understanding what she wants me to do. She extends it toward me, and very slowly I take it from her. Tentatively, I wipe my tears, but she only encourages me to keep going. When I try to give it back to her, she closes my fingers around it and says, "Keep it. You're going to need it again."

So I fold the handkerchief and put in my uniform pant pocket. She reaches for my hands again, and I grasp, practically cling, to them. Entwining my fingers with hers, I choke out, "My mom's favorite flowers were autumn bellflowers," not having the guts to look at Hanada-chan in the eye. "The blue ones."

I can feel her warm smile. "Your mother had excellent taste. Those flowers symbolize-"

"Tranquility and healing," I finish. "I can understand how much she needed them." I need them, too.

"Would you like for me to make a bouquet?"

I shake my head. "No. Before that, I need to have the guts to see her again." She stares at me with confusion in her eyes. "I haven't seen my mom in ten years," I elaborate.

She doesn't apologize. She doesn't gaze at me with pity. Rather, she adjusts her position and holds my hands more tightly. "Do you wish to see your mother again?"

"All the time," I choke again. "Not a day goes by that I don't miss her hugs and voice. Although she was the one who gave me this scar, I don't blame her for it. She was my sanctuary from my father, and she always will be."

"But it's still not easy to meet her in spite of those feelings."

"No, it's not. She said she found my left side hideous. I don't want to risk invoking those feelings inside her again," I lean back, resting my head against the wall, and laugh sardonically. "It's counterintuitive, isn't it? You'd think that because I felt so strongly, I would act on it. Instead, I avoid it. Ha! Being selfish for one's own gain is bad enough, but being selfish for one's own loss is worse. I'm such a coward."

It's hard to tell through the blurry veil of tears forming again, but Hanada-chan's eyes are filled with a new emotion. Like a revelation of sorts. It fades as quickly as it comes. "Is it so wrong to be selfish?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"You said that you were selfish, and you hated it. But is that really such a terrible thing? Selfishness allows you to endeavor to keep close what you want. So many of our emotions stem from selfishness: obsession, fixation, lust, possession; greed, envy, wrath, gluttony; even happiness, comfort, hope, and desire. No one is completely selfless, Todoroki-kun. Neither should one be if he, she, or they wish to survive in this cruel world. Comfort won't come just sitting by, so you should seize any opportunity that provides it."

"So you're telling me I should summon the courage to meet my mom again?"

"Yes. Because Todoroki-kun, you love your mother, and she loves you, too. After she burned you, she immediately attempted to soothe you, am I right?" When I nod, she continues. "She was sorry for what she did because she cared for you. If my speculation is correct, she still does. I can't imagine a mother who has endured so much for her son to not love him. Mothers are supposed to be a sanctuary to all children, so embrace yours and become her sanctuary, too. You deserve your closure, and she deserves hers."

"Why are you saying all this?"

"Because at least you have a mother. That's a gift that very few receive, so cherish it." Her tears run down her face.

My tears stream again, unrestrained. "You're rebuilding the dreams my father had shattered."

"You're welcome."

I don't know what overcomes me, but cautiously, I bend toward her and ask her, "Can I be selfish again?"

"You may."

So I pull her hands to my face and cry into the fabric.

A boy and a girl, secluded in a hallway, the girl comforting the boy, and the boy weeping his soul out.

The girl cries with him.

It's a cliché trope, and I don't care.

I don't know how long we stay like this, and I don't care.

It will be time for Hanada-chan's next battle soon, and I don't care.

All there is this.

Because just for a moment, a sliver of moonlight shines on me.

And that means everything to me.

Note: I have copied some dialogue from one of the English-translated versions of the manga. The link to the chapter is here: .online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-40/

Citations:

"Sometimes reality comes crashing down on you. Other times reality simply waits, patiently, for you to run out of energy it takes to deny it." - The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid