Uproar // Villain Deku // Book 2

Chapter 17: Here We Go.

Izumi Yagi's P.O.V

"Izumi?" A voice called out to me. "Izumi!" The voice repeated.

    As my eyes began to flutter open, I felt a pair of warm hands brush my face — filling me with a sense of security. The fingertips, belonging to whomever it was that had been stroking my face, glided along my skin. It reached my cheeks; it reached my jaw; it reached my chin, the fingers roamed everywhere along my face.

    I felt calm; I felt at peace; I felt as if I were in a dream — just waking up, however, it wasn't like waking up from a dream unrested due to an early alarm, it was like waking up from a good dream perfectly refreshed on a Saturday morning. It was like waking up from a good dream in the heat of your blankets — yet not too hot so that you're uncomfortable — on your own terms.

    A blinding light overtook my vision as my eyes finally decided to open — catching me severely off guard. The last thing I had remembered was darkness. The endless and dark void of nothing — only occupied by the predecessors and their thrones — had now somehow morphed into a room of nothing but white.

"Oh my God, Izumi, you're okay!" The voice cried out as a pair of arms wrapped around my body tight — acting as if they had let me go, I would disappear forever.

"Mom?" I questioned the woman — trying to confirm her identity. "What... What happened?"

"You don't remember?" She replied with a hint of concern. "Uhm... I'll call for the doctor, maybe you're suffering from some sort of amnesia or something..."

    As I watched my mother leave in a babbling and muttering muck, I felt my hands reach up to comfort my aching head. It was all a blur. The most I could remember from before my encounter with the predecessors was running. Running in fury; running in rage; running in anger.

    I remembered my meeting with Gran Torino, I remembered the stories he had shared. Stories of Shimura; stories of the fourth user; stories of my father, and his being quirkless. I remembered my conversation with my mother — seeing her for the first time as she snapped at me.

    It was odd. I had never been one to agitate her before. I had never seen the look of disgust and seething rage she wore earlier on in my memories. I had never seen her act that way before.

    Clutching my temples, I released a groan of annoyance. I didn't exactly enjoy it when people refused to inform me of what was going on. It made me nervous; it made me anxious; it made me agitated.

"Ah, Ms. Yagi, you're awake!" A voice beamed from the doorframe — pulling me from my daze. "How are you feeling?"

    Whipping my head back to see who it was that had been speaking, I was met with a woman that looked to be in her late twenties to early thirties. Her hair was long and brown — complimented by her beautiful blue eyes. I could see waves; a summer's ocean blue — that was what her eyes resembled to me, that was where they had taken me.

    Her white doctor's cloak swayed behind her as she approached me — looking over my vitals and checking boxes on her clipboard. As she proceeded forward, my mother's tense form appeared from behind the woman.

"I have a headache and some abdominal pain, but overall, I think I'm alright." I finally answered the woman, attempting to lift the covers off of the bed I had woken up in and leave.

"Hold it, kiddo. You can't move yet." She explained — ushering me to stay down. "Your mother has told me that you don't remember anything, am I correct?"

"Well, I remember some things — bits and pieces — but why am I here?" I replied in a confused tone, hesitation laced into my voice ever so slightly.