Uproar // Villain Deku // Book 2

Chapter 23: I Don't Care.

Denki Kaminari's P.O.V

    Opportunity. It comes and goes like fish in water. You only truly get one moment in life. One perfect, paradisiacal and chanceful moment in life to accomplish your goals. If it's destined to be, you'll have the said moment sooner or later. This was my destiny, and I wasn't going to waste it.

Opportunity.

It comes and goes like fish in water, and you need to learn how to recognize when to strike.

    I was tired of watching Izuku; I was tired of watching my classmates; I was tired of watching the heroes — I was tired of watching. I needed to do something, anything, to set my mind at ease, to stop this feeling that grew stronger and stronger day by day. This wasn't me; this person wasn't me. I wasn't cheerful; I wasn't happy; I wasn't a hero — I wasn't anything I had been pretending to be.

I was tired.

    None of these people knew me, not the real me. I wanted to escape. I wanted to claw and pry at my flesh — restricting me to this ideal version of how I should have always been, but I wasn't. It was all his fault; this was all their fault.

    I didn't choose this need; I didn't choose this want; I didn't choose this thing that lived inside of me and controlled my every move. I wanted for so much; however, the one thing that I had been wanting and yearning for the most, was for this person inside of me to shrivel and die. Or maybe I didn't.

    My head pounded and pounded as I felt this sensation of blood running down the back of my eyelids. Starting as just this dripping feeling of lust for death and destruction, then turning into a stream. A stream of emotions — calling out to me.

Denki.

Denki.

Denki.

    It always sounds in my mind, never leaving me to rest. This feeling; this possession; this person — they were created throughout my years and years of building rage. I wasn't in control; I wasn't the one behind these urges; this wasn't me — or maybe it was. This was the version of me that had been caged in front of all of the people that claimed to have stood by me through all this time. This was the version of me that was left after I pulled the mask off of my face — all alone in my room. This was the person that stared back at me in the mirror. This was me.

    The stream turned into a flood — it filled me. Every crevasse, every ravine, every valley in my body is flooded with the red that consumes me. Then the blood isn't red anymore, it's black. It's pressing, it's this pressure that weighs down on me, it feels like my head is going to explode. It makes me feel as if one day, the pressure will be too much, and I will burst — becoming nothing but pieces of mangled and mushed flesh against a carpet and wall. I'll coat the walls; I'll coat the ceiling; I'll coat everything.

One day.

    I wanted to be the best; I wanted to show everyone who I was; I wanted for so much — however, the one thing I had been wanting and yearning for the most, was to finally be set free. Izuku's games of waiting and watching and observing were restricting me from realizing my true potential — I needed to release the pressing feeling, the pressure, and I needed to release the restriction. From my world; from our world; from life.

    Destiny. I believed in destiny. We were all given tasks to fulfill — tasks to have realized into the real world. Perhaps my life had played out exactly as it was destined to; perhaps I was always meant to feel this way. Destiny was cruel at times, but what truly mattered at this moment was what I was going to make of my circumstances.