𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝟷𝟶𝟷

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

 As I hit the ground, I felt a great push, a pressure so strong it squeezed my spirit out of my body. I was white and translucent and staring at my own blood spattered face. My scalp was visibly cracked and I could easily see my brain through my green tufts of hair. I could even see some fragments of my own skull. Blood pooled around my lifeless body, slowly turning paler. I was free, for about four seconds. Then, fate being the complete asshole it is, forced me back into my body. I felt myself getting sucked back in, like I was in a whirlpool. Like there were strings attached to both me and my body and they were reeling me in, forcing me back into my body.

My eyes fluttered open, small gasps of air making its way into my lungs.

"No, no, no, no.... No no no NO NO! NO! NO!" I screamed, eyes going wide. I quickly sat up, a dull, aching pain spreading throughout my body. I could feel my wound healing, the small amount of pain slowly getting sucked from my body. Standing up, I reached my hand up and patted my head to feel the flesh welding itself together, as if it were never split in the first place. The only sign that reminded me of my previous attempt was the thin, bunched up skin that was a scar at the back of my head and the blood on my body. All other injuries were completely gone. My thoughts were erratic and crazed now that I knew how I would never die. The only word that came to my mind was 'immortal'.

I knew there were legends of immortal spirits, monsters, demons, all of those mythical creatures immortal, but I never knew of a human with an immortality quirk. And then I realized that that was what I was. An immortal.  It was laughable.

Probably the one person in the fucking world that would do anything to die, and I was an immortal.  The only immortal person.  In that moment, I realized that I was alone.  I was alone, and I was never going to feel the freedom that is death.  

It was probably a dramatic thought, since I'd only attempted to die once, but it was a good probability.  Even though I didn't know whether or not I was immortal, I knew it was going to be incredibly hard to die.  So I set out.  On a quest to figure out how to die.  

The first thing I did, was find out the limitations and pro's and con's of this state.  I found out that I could no longer feel much pain, and i was tolerant to much hotter and colder temperatures than the average human.  If I had a serious wound, it would heal pretty fast, smaller wounds took more time to heal, though.  Which really doesn't make much sense, but what in this world does?  I was also able find out that my stamina is incredibly high, along with my speed.  There are a bunch of other ones but I didn't particularly care about them all that much.

After this incident, I decided to travel the world and find different ways to kill myself, from searching jungles in the Amazon for viper venom to searching American stores for castor oil.  On the way to these places, I would help whoever I could.  It could be a random mugging on the side of the street or a hit and run accident.  No matter what they would end up on the side of the road, beat up and tied up with a note that simply said 'bad guy'.  Eventually that gave me my nickname.

Now, moving onto more important things.

If you payed attention to me when I was speaking about my father's new life, you'd notice that I used past-tense words. Because he didn't keep that life for more than five years. That's right, he came back to Japan. It wasn't a fun experience for me.  From what I was able to learn, he'd been in Japan for around two months before he found me.

Apparently, he somehow found a way to contact me.  It was a huge shock to me, especially since I was incredibly careful with my identity and never let any information leak.  Imagine being on a rooftop drinking when suddenly your long-lost rapist father calls you.  I don't have to, since he did.  I remember exactly how the conversation went.

"Izuku."  he firmly stated, as if he was positive I was on the other line.  I froze up, the hot blood in my veins turning ice cold withing a millisecond.  I stayed quiet, paralyzed with fear and blood-boiling hatred.  I feared that if I let myself say something I'd do something reckless and reveal my location or other crucial information.  After that, I regained my bearings and threw the phone off the building.  There was a good chance that if he was able to contact me, he would be able to locate me, most likely via phone tracker.  Either way, it was risky and I wasn't taking any chances.

I went into a hiding but only lasted a month before he found me.

He kidnapped me.... and did some other things that I don't want to recall.  It might bring up memories of that period.  Ha, I call that period of my life my 'Darkzone' because I typically don't remember those memories that well unless I really try.  Therefore, an entire year of my memories don't really exist in my mind.

Anyways, after I escaped them I crossed the country looking for even more ways to kill myself, breaking into labs and military bases in attempts to find the newest and more powerful technologies.  Only a handful of them even hurt more than shooting myself in the head.

"And that's when you found me!"  Deku yelled, fake cheerfully.  His face remained an emotionless deadpan, only a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth signifying his amusement.  Aizawa groaned at his newly acquired problem child.

"Why am.... Do I have to...."  He seemed to be arguing with himself.  Deku let a lazy smirk take over his face.  He was very amused with his internal struggles.  Bringing the coffee cup to his mouth, he took a sip of the thick sludge.  "But I mean.... Hm--  Fuck me.  Whatever."  He took a deep breath.  A taunting smirk still on his face, he raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong, Eraserhead?"  This time, it was Aizawa's turn to smirk.  He knew that either way, this was going his way.  Deku narrowed his eyes at this, smirk smoothing into a thin line at the suspicious behavior.  "What are you thinking?"

"Hm."

"What?"

"Iz... Deku.  I want you to come to UA."

The vigilante spit his coffee.

"Excuse me?!"

. . . .

and the plot thickens...

(p.s. don't worry, it gets...
happier)

also, please read my riren
book 'sixteen' because i worked sorta
hard on it to make it 
ya know...

good.

thanks for the support on my 
book(s)