Ashes of the Deceived. (Izuku Midoriya x reader.)

Chapter Twenty-Three.

—First Person POV.—

The events before me may as well be news footage played on mute.

I'm at the cemetery with the creepy grandma. The cemetery you'd pass by if you where heading in the direction of my house.

Lights from all the police cars ring out in red and flashing white, yet I hear no sirens.

The cops walk around in drab black jackets, their chins tucked low and somber.

They're trying to seem calm, as if they see stuff like this every day, but a majority of them look like they'd rather be off in the bushes throwing up their donuts.

A few use their bodies to cover up the view of nosy camera lenses and somewhere in the center of it all is a body, torn to pieces.

I wish I could get closer— That I kept a spare press pass in the glove compartment or had the money to keep a few cop's mouths shut.

As it is, I'm lingering on the edges of the press crowd, behind the yellow tape.

I don't want to believe it was Izuku.

It would mean that that mans death is on my hands.

I don't want to believe it because it would mean that he's incurable— Still trapped, there is no redemption.

As the crowd watches, the police exit the park with a gurney.

On top of it is a black bag that should normally have the shape of a body but instead it looks like it's been stuffed full of hockey equipment.

I suppose they tried their best to put him back together.

When the gurney hits the curb, the remains shift, and through the bag we can see one of the limbs fall down, clearly unattached to the rest.

The crowd makes a muffled noise of disturbed disgust— And I elbow my way back through them to the car.

—Small Time Skip.—

I pull into his driveway and crookedly park.

He's surprised to see me since I've been gone for less than an hour.

As my feet stomp through the weed filled path that led up to his porch— I don't know whether the noise comes from the dirt, or from my grinding teeth.

As I near, Izuku's expression swiftly contorts from happiness to concern "What wrong (Y/n)?"

"You tell me." I snap and am surprised by my own harsh tone but that doesn't stop me from questioning the freckled boy "Were where you last night?"

"At your house?" He answers without skipping a beat and I mentally face palm.

"I mean— Before or after—" "What are you talking about?" He cuts off with a softer tone in his voice, attempting to calm me down.

He needs to convince me "Just tell me were you where, what did you do after?" I need to know it wasn't him.

"Nothing." He answers, grabbing his chin and tilting it down in thought "After I left, I came back here, tested my strength, I—" His mumbling came to an abrupt stop as he pauses.

"You what, Izuku?" I demand.

His expression hardens as he meets my eye "After I realized the spirits where still here, I hid in my bedroom for a while."

The look in his eyes are tired and confused, which is odd considering he doesn't even need sleep since he's dead— It's filled with questions and so much confusion.