The classroom buzzed with energy as the bell rang, signaling the end of another monotonous school day. Izuku gathered his belongings, his gaze focused on the floor as he navigated through the sea of classmates. Their laughter and chatter washed over him like a distant tide, reminding him of his own solitude in the midst of the bustling crowd.
As he stepped out into the open air, a heavy weight settled upon his shoulders. The events of the past year had taken their toll, amplifying the physical and mental abuse he endured from Bakugo and his relentless band of followers. The bullying had escalated, becoming a daily ritual of humiliation and pain. Izuku bore the brunt of their attacks, the target of their cruelty, and the echoes of their insults reverberated in his mind, a relentless reminder of his perceived weakness.
But it was the absence of Yaoyorozu, the once vibrant and caring friend, that pierced Izuku's heart the deepest. She had become a distant figure, enveloped in a world of her own. The memory of their friendship, the laughter they shared, and the dreams they once nurtured together felt like faded fragments of a forgotten past. Yaoyorozu's decision to choose someone else as her romantic interest had dealt a crushing blow to Izuku's fragile heart, leaving him feeling cast aside and replaced.
Countless birthdays had come and gone, solitary affairs spent in the company of his loving mother, Inko. She would inquire about Yaoyorozu, her eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Izuku, evading the truth, would brush off her questions with vague explanations of her friend's busyness. Over time, Inko stopped asking, sensing the pain hidden beneath Izuku's evasiveness.
Now, nearing April, Izuku found himself at his lowest point. Fourteen years of betrayal, abuse, and sadness had etched their marks upon his soul. The world felt like an unforgiving labyrinth, a maze of torment that he could never escape. The shadows of his past loomed large, eclipsing any glimmers of hope that dared to penetrate the darkness.
Yet, amidst the suffocating despair, Izuku refused to surrender completely. He had transformed his body through rigorous physical training and grueling activities, seeking solace and strength in mixed martial arts. The once unruly curls of his hair were now tamed into a ponytail or a Viking-style braid, a symbolic change that reflected his determination to reshape himself, to mold his identity on his own terms.
His face, adorned with freckles that carried the remnants of innocence, underwent a subtle transformation as well. Izuku learned to apply makeup with precision, strategically concealing his freckles and any vulnerability they might betray. Each stroke of foundation and concealer was an act of defiance, a means to protect himself from the harsh judgment of the world.
Cuts glazed his arms as his other way to release stress and cope with the undying hate.
But amidst the changes, two aspects of Izuku remained steadfast, untouchable by any physical alteration. The first was his heroic heart, an indomitable flame that refused to be extinguished. It was a double-edged sword—a burden and a gift. No matter the pain he endured, no matter the loneliness that enveloped him, Izuku couldn't help but respond to those in need. His innate desire to save and protect others was the core of his being, a fundamental part of his identity that both tormented and inspired him.
The second aspect was his lingering love for Yaoyorozu, the delicate doll whose friendship had imprinted upon his desolate heart. Even as she had seemingly forgotten about him, even as her affection turned towards another, Izuku clung to the memory of their connection. It was a bittersweet ache that he carried, a reminder of the tenderness he had once known and the longing that still whispered within him.
In the confines of the classroom, Izuku sought refuge in his hero notebook. Its pages held his thoughts, his dreams, and his frustrations. Through meticulous planning and analysis, he sought to refine his strategies, to mold himself into the hero he still believed he could become. The notebook became his sanctuary, a space where he could pour out his heart and soul, where the weight of his loneliness and pain could find temporary respite.
