Once cherished by loving parents, a nurturing sister, and a devoted best friend, Izuku Yagi's life changes drastically after a visit from the Quirk doctor. His days are marked by belittling, bullying, sabotage, neglect, and brutal beatings, all for...
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"Cursed." That was ringing in the mind of this young man as he came to see all those intricately designed talismans lined up along the shelves of this dimly lit room—every one of them a masterpiece of ancient calligraphy and mystical symbols made to imprison evil spirits.
"Cursed to be loved, cursed to amount to nothing, cursed to never love a person who'll truly care for him." His thoughts spiraled into a vortex of despair at the thought of cruel twists of fate that visited him. "And the most important curse of all, to be cursed with a fate that can never be changed, because I'm powerless. I can never change my destiny or protect the ones I love."
Indeed, the weight of his words came upon him like a mountain, a burden able to crush a fellow's very soul. His fingers etched over the intricate patterns set on the parchment talismans, and his brow furrowed into a deep concentration to find solace in those mystic designs. All he could remember was when some unknown man knocked him out, after which he blacked out, only to find himself in this very dark room with a necklace around his neck that his friend had given him before she died.
After he had examined the talismans and found them charmed to hold him in, or rather, his overprotectiveness toward his friend into his soul, he turned to sit back down but was met with the sound of a door opening.
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A man, clad in a black jumpsuit that seemed to hug his athletic physique, stepped into the room. He was bandaged all over his face, covering his eyes, but his snow-white hair shone next to my own raven locks with hints of emerald green.
Though his eyes were covered, the power and wisdom in his bearing would have inspired respect and awe in another. He walked gracefully for his slim, muscular build, with each step deliberate and to its purpose.
His charisma hit me as he walked closer to me, this strange feeling of familiarity tugging at the edges of my consciousness. His footsteps echoed in the darkness, joining the very soft rustling of his garments.
He came to a halt in front of me, with controlled, fluid movements. His sightless gaze seemed to burn into my soul as he uttered in a commanding yet gentle tone, "Izuku Yagi. We must talk."
