Silhouette ✓ (⛔❤☁)

F O U R T Y - F I V E

"It hurts" Purote whimpered out. His mother didn't even acknowledge that he spoke, simply continuing to watch her show.

He was crumpled in the floor, holding where his ribs were. It hurts. She'd kicked him, her heels digging into his ribcage. It hurts so bad.

He sniffed, trying not to cry. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Oh. Now he was. He scooted backwards as he did, furiously wiping at his cheeks and eyes. She can't know he was crying. She can't. Can't. Can't. Can't.

He whispered a silent 'please don't look' over and over again to himself.

With his cursed luck, she looked over, her face showing nothing but utter hatred. Purote scampered back, accidentally letting out a sob. He couldn't get to his feet fast enough, his movements to sloppy and uncoordinated. When he finally managed to get tickets his feet, he didn't have any time left.

"You fucking mistake! Man up already! There's not a damn thing to cry about!" he nodded, biting his tongue to try and distract himself into stopping the girly tears.

His precariously standing body was pushed until his back hit the wall. His mother was deathly silent, fueling the anxious fear pooling in his stomach.

His heart stopped when she finally spoke.

"I'll give you something real to cry about"

"Mom– Mom please. I'm sorry!"

A sharp smack rang out and his breath hitched violently. He didn't speak, his tears having halted to a forced stop.

"Good. Go find a ditch or something; I'm tired of your existence" Purote nodded quickly, sprinting out of the house. 

He didn't have any sake left. In fact, he didn't have any of his outlets left. He was stuck in the hellish reality that was full of pain, suppressed tears, and aching addictions. What he did have, luckily, was time. He always had time. So he ran, running to the one place he could do as he wished. 

When his home was in view, he slowed; it'd been a long run. He walked down the worn pavement, allowing his breathing to slowly return to normal. When a high pitched scream rang out, he ditched the idea of letting his body have a break. 

Shortstack, as he'd dubbed the older girl, was being held by some random guy. Two other lackies stood around. She had a good quirk, suited for throwing people off their game, but the drawback required that she kept a calm heartbeat. By the fear on her face, he could tell her heart was nowhere near calm. 

"Fuck off!" He yelled as he approached. He'd already collected buckets of sweat during his run so all he had to do was control how much he used. Now, he wasn't very intimidating given his size, he knew that. It did help him when he was underestimated. No one expects a twelve year old to know how to fight after all.

So when he sent an explosion at one of them while kicking the other. Shortstack ripped herself away from the man's grip. Purote pushed through one of the men's hands as he tried to grab at Purote's forever bloodstained shirt.

"Shortstack! Go inside! Run!" He screamed at her. She did so, Purote keeping the men from going after her.

"If we can't have her, I think I know someone who would pay a hefty sum to taste a little boy like you" One of the guys said, lips being stretched into disgusting leer.

"Fuck off!"

Hands grabbed at him. One on his neck, one on his forearm. Purote's mind didn't register that he was still on block sixteen for a moment; thoughts flying back to his mother's house. So he didn't even notice his surrounding changing as he was pulled back, cool fingers replacing the harsh grip. 

"Purote. Are you okay?" A gentle voice asked. Purote blinked, taking in the situation. The grandmother figure for the whole block had trapped all of the men with her icy quirk, suppressing their movements by freezing their bodies from the inside. They would live. Barely. She was old, but damn he was the strongest unofficial hero Purote had ever met.

He was so lucky. 

Word Count: 724

In celebration of finding a dark mode extension that actually works, I've word vomited this for you. I sincerely apologize for the wait!!