𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕍.𝟚 💥𝔹𝕜𝔻𝕜💥

Chapter 46

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Falling In Reverse

IZUKU

Day Forty-four of Imprisonment

The days—weeks?—blurred together, each dragging him deeper into a world where pain had no end, where reality had no place. Izuku's whole existence now hinged on the brutal rhythm of torment, orchestrated like some monstrous melody by Odd Eye. There was a sick pattern to it, cycles designed to unravel him inch by inch, corroding his sanity until he felt he was nothing but raw nerve endings, a fractured mind barely holding itself together, barely tethered to this reality.

Odd Eye knew where to strike—every image crafted to destroy his hope, every manipulation calculated to crush his spirit. He would come, press his gloved hands to Izuku's temples, and the nightmare would begin anew. The torment was seamless, each injected memory bleeding seamlessly into his true ones, making it harder and harder to tell what was real and what was a lie crafted to break him. Each imagined death of his friends, his family—his mother, God, his mom—all of them played out with such intricate, horrifying detail that he'd find himself reeling from the ache of it, a fresh wound reopening over and over in his heart.

And then there was Katsuki. Katsuki's dying face haunted him in ways he hadn't thought possible, the familiar warmth of his touch fading under his fingers, the fierce light in his eyes snuffed out, leaving only emptiness. Again and again, he was forced to watch Katsuki fall, to see the person he loved more than anything taken from him in a dozen sickening, irreversible ways. Every time, the pain hit as sharply as if it were real, as if he'd truly lost him.

The images had become seared into his mind, appearing even when Odd Eye wasn't near, bleeding into the shadows of the cell. It was unbearable, the grief, but he had no choice; he'd live it out again and again, knowing each time that this was just the beginning, that Odd Eye would make him feel the heartbreak fresh and raw, no matter how many times he was forced to watch.

And with each horrific memory, Izuku felt himself weakening, his heart splintering under the weight of it all. The ache of losing them—all of them, over and over—left him shattered, so much so that even the act of breathing felt like a heavy burden, and sometimes he wondered if maybe it would just be better if he let go. He could end it. He'd caught himself thinking it in the lonely, agonizing hours when sleep wouldn't come, when even breathing felt like too much. The thought drifted through Izuku's mind like a whisper, subtle and haunting, slipping in without him fully realizing. It seemed to curl around his thoughts, weaving itself into the ache of his exhaustion, into the rawness of his grief. He was worn so thin, stretched past the point of recognition, and in this endless void of pain, of torment... giving in felt like relief.

It would be so simple. Just... let it happen. Let Odd Eye win. Let it all fade, and left it consume him.

But somewhere in the depths of his fracturing mind, he remembered that night on the balcony, months ago, when he'd been on the edge—truly on the edge. He could still feel the cold night air against his skin, the dizzying pull of gravity below, the emptiness he'd felt, so complete, so consuming. The night he'd come so close to letting go, ready to surrender to that dark impulse.

The memory washed over Izuku, vivid and powerful, like a lighthouse cutting through fog. That night on the ground, the whispered promises, the fierce grip of Katsuki's hands pulling him into his arms. The way Katsuki had held him afterward—arms tight around him, so close it was like he feared he'd disappear if he let go even a little. Izuku could still feel it, the way Katsuki's hands had trembled, not from weakness but from the flood of emotion he'd been unable to contain. For the first time, all of Katsuki's defenses, all that armor he'd carried for years, had fallen away.