𝒉𝖏𝙨 𝒑𝞂𝖏𝙨𝞂𝛈

𝐜𝒉𝝰𝒑𝙩𝒆𝗿 3

Izuku arrived home, his body aching, his spirit broken, and his heart heavy with the wounds of rejection and disappointment. He entered the modest apartment and saw his other in the kitchen, but she didn't even spare him a glance.

With a heavy heart, Izuku trudged up the creaky stairs to the attic, which served as his bedroom. It was a small, dimly lit space, containing only a worn-out mattress on the floor, a small ceiling light, and a basket that held his small collection of clothes. It was a stark contrast to the dreams of heroism that used to fill his mind.

Ignoring the pain in his battered body, Izuku began to tend to his wounds. He'd grown accustomed to patching himself up over the years, knowing that no one else cared enough to do it for him. The sting of his injuries was a painful reminder of his failures.

As he cleaned and bandaged his injuries, he couldn't help but think about the hero who had once been his idol—the same hero who had betrayed him today.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of his disillusionment pressing down on him. With a surge of anger, he grabbed the figurines, posters, and action figures, and began to ruthlessly tear them apart, one by one. The emblematic smile of All Might that had once given him hope now seemed like a cruel mockery. The once-beloved hero was a distant, unfeeling figure, a constant reminder of a world that had rejected him. Tears welled in his eyes as he destroyed each piece, the feeling of hurt and betrayal weighing heavily on his shoulders.

The faint sound of the front door opening below reached his ears, and Izuku knew that his father and Izumi had returned home. He could hear their voices mingling with his mother's, filled with happiness and excitement. It was a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between him and his family. Inko's cheerful greeting to her husband and daughter, the warmth in her voice, only intensified Izuku's feelings of isolation. He was an outcast in his own home, a place that should have been a sanctuary. The tears that fell from his eyes were a mixture of anger, disappointment, and heartache.

Sitting alone in the dimly lit attic, surrounded by the wreckage of his once-beloved All Might merchandise, Izuku couldn't escape the flood of bitter memories that washed over him.

His parents' neglect, his mother's indifference, and his father's betrayal seemed to define his existence. They were heroes in the eyes of the world, but to Izuku, they were anything but. They were hypocrites, their grand ideals of saving others and protecting citizens were nothing more than empty words.

Then there were his tormentors, his former friends, and even his own twin sister, Izumi. Their cruelty knew no bounds, and they used their quirks to inflict both physical and emotional pain on him. The wounds they had left were not just on his body but etched into his soul.

The recent events with All Might had shattered the last remnants of his admiration for heroes. The hypocrisy of it all gnawed at him. Heroes preached about keeping citizens safe, caring for them, and claiming that anyone could be a hero, regardless of their circumstances. But the reality he had experienced was far from those ideals.

His tormentors, the very ones who aspired to be heroes, committed villainous acts against him without a second thought, and no one batted an eye. It was as if they wore masks of righteousness while harbouring darkness within. The thought of becoming a part of that world, where hypocrisy thrived, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As he reflected on his life, Izuku couldn't help but feel more anger welling up within him. The heroes he had once held in such high regard were nothing but false idols. The notion of heroism, something that should have been noble and pure, now felt tainted.

With a heavy heart, he wondered if he truly wanted to be a part of a society that could produce such cruelty and indifference. The dream of becoming a hero had sustained him for so long, but now it seemed like nothing more than a cruel joke.

"Heroes, huh? What a load of garbage! All Might, the Symbol of Peace, my childhood idol, turns out to be my own father and nothing more than a fake—a hypocrite! They talk about saving people, caring for everyone, about anyone being able to be a hero, but what about me?"

His fists clenched, and his tears fell freely as he continued to vent his frustrations. "I've been neglected by my own parents, bullied by my so-called friends, and treated like trash by the society that's supposed to protect us. Quirkless people like me, we're just an afterthought, an inconvenience to be pushed aside and forgotten!"

Izuku paced the dim attic, his anger fueling his words as he spoke to no one in particular. "They say heroes stand up for justice, but where's the justice for people like me? Where's the fairness? I've endured years of torment, and for what? Over something I can't control? To be told I'll never be a hero? That I don't have what it takes? It's not fair!"

His voice cracked with emotion as he realized the harsh truth. "This world is cruel, and it's not meant for people like me. It's not meant for those without quirks, for those who are different. They can keep their hero society; I don't want any part of it!"

The realization settled in, bitter and painful. Izuku had come to terms with the mistreatment he had endured, the unfairness of the society he lived in, and the crushing weight of his own powerlessness. It was a harsh reality, but it was one he could no longer deny.

"Nothing but a bunch of empty promises," he spat.

Kicking a broken hero figurine across the attic, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his disillusionment. The world had shown him time and time again that it was stacked against him, that his dreams were nothing more than a distant mirage.

As he glanced up at the window, something caught his eye. A figure, small and human-like, appeared to be floating with what looked like dragon wings. He blinked in disbelief, thinking he might be imagining things. But when he looked again, the mysterious figure had disappeared, leaving him to wonder if it was a trick of his tired and frustrated mind.