The Three Sword Vigilante (Rewrite )

Master?

There she stood under the golden ray, lying in Izuku's arms with a golden smile—his mother, his only supporter, his best friend—now dead. Her scarlet life leaked from her lips and kept pouring buckets from her chest, unable to end. Izuku wants to cry. He needs to cry. Why did she have to die for my mistakes? He thought—a perfect mother who only wanted to find a lost duckling that ran from his troubles. His rage replaced the tears. That storm, that rain falling onto his shoulders, Izuku remembers all of it. Even the part when he ran, too scared to face reality. Screaming to himself that his mother wasn't dead; she wasn't bleeding. Izuku couldn't stop dreaming of the past and how he could've done differently every night in those alleys. There was an ever-growing weight of guilt wearing him down.

"Hatchi, I cannot condone your shenanigans any longer. Your body is as rigid as a stone, and your superhuman strength is epic, but Hatchi, this will be the final time you will use your quirk at will. You will abide by my rules as long you reside within my home. Understood?" Two silhouettes argue behind paper walls like Edo and Sengoku housing across the hall.

Izuku's head rang as he tried to stand up. The world spun in front of him. Izuku found himself both in front and behind the door; his knees buckled, and Izuku dropped to the floor—heavy as a bowling ball two feet away from his futon. The silhouettes from the other room halted their conversation, "Master? Was that Midoriya?" the master, with his light-footed steps, strides to the paper door that leads to Izuku's room with Hatchi not far. "Midoriya? Are you alright?" The master whispers before slowly opening the door. Izuku picks up his head and gazes into the master's keys—green as emeralds and an incredible figure. "W-who are you?" Izuku manages to spit out as he continues to gawk.

"You're red like a tomato. Hatchi, bring water and rags. The Midoriya boy has a fever." Izuku's breath paced faster. Master returns him to the futon while Hatchi bursts into the room with a pail of water and a couple of rags, "Here it is, Master!"

Master wet the rags and placed them on top of Izuku's head. His heat kept climbing, and his skin began to lose its color, flushing pale. How many days has he spent alone? Master asked himself. "Hatchi?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Where did you pick him up?"

"Four blocks from the store I robbed, inside one of those alley mazes. Midoriya saw me crash into one of the alley's walls and stood beside me until I knocked him out."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes, Master.

It wasn't a sigh of relief or disappointment, and the master was glad Hatchi didn't get arrested. He didn't lead the police or any heroes to the school. You wouldn't call it a school; so empty, void of bodies and students. The walls were barren. Dust seeped through the cracks of the black wood walls.

"Midoriya?" he calls, "How do you feel?"

"Eh-where am I?" Izuku says

"You're at my school, a kendo dojo. I apologize for what my pupil has done to you. But it seems to be in good spirits. You have a fever, a big one at that. My pupil spoke about you feeling overheated."

"My head, it's ringing. My chest burns and my skin is freezing. Mister, can you please make it stop?"

"Of course," Hatchi's master lifts Izuku before laying him back down on the futon. Hatch bursts into the room with a pail of water with two rags hanging off of it.

"Here is the water, Master."

"Thank you, Hatchi.  Now Midoriya, sleep. Rest this fever off."

"Thank you, sir," Izuku head pangs with a searing pain it feels as if a fire is burning over his head while his skin is cool as Ice. Resting while drums echo through his mind, Izuku's heart won't slow. It hurts so much. He wants to cry. He wants to go home to his nice bed where Izuku's mother would make the best dinner. Nothing could be her warm food. Nothing can't replace her. Can he have a home like that again? No. He can't. No one would want to accept a dirty, quirkless orphan. Izuku can never find that love again. Why did he run?