A Honed Edge (Izuku Midorya)

your job's a joke, and you're broke

The apartment is dark save for the blue lighting that coats the space. Raiden doesn't remember how he got to the apartment, but he makes for the bedroom, and phases through the wall.

He crumbles to the ground, and he can distantly feel his mouth moving. Whenever he's like this he loses control and reverts back to old habits.

Odd mumbling falls from his mouth in spurts, but all Raiden can do is scrunch his eyes closed and cover his ears.

Trying to drown everything out is a risky tactic, and never quite works.

The past always resurfaces when he tries to drown it out. It bubbles up from the depths as if it's been waiting and biding its time.

He sees green eyes, lively and happy. He's looking through a lense of a child. A child who's giggling and just happy to see his mother happy.

Now he's looking through seeing a blonde haired boy. They're trotting through a forest with fishing nets. He remembers always trailing behind the younger boy, and Raiden doesn't know why he did.

The day he was diagnosed quirkless. The worst day of his life flashes before his eyes. Well. That was the worst day of his life at the time. Something shattered that day, but his mom was there to save him. She made him feel loved and like he was enough.

Being quirkless isn't something to be ashamed of, she would quote daily. His mom was his hero. Someone he could count on. His first ever hero before All Might grew to be his favorite. That's when he first learned that heroes were liars.

Quirklessness is a flaw in the new world. Quirks are a way of living, and without a quirk he was nothing but a waste of space. At least his mom tried though. He will never fault her for that.

It must've been hard having a quirkless son. All the blemishes on his skin from bullies, the stares from the people who knew. It must've been a tragedy to her. He wishes he could've been more for her.

He is now, but she's not here to see it. She finally got out of the life she was forced to live.

People always said she loved him more than he could ever know, but they must've been liars too. His mom was a great woman, but not even she could love a quirkless son.

Nobody could love a weak quirkless bastard. A waste of space. An empty bucket.

"IZUKU!" A shout echoes through the mound of flames slithering inside his skull. The words of the dead, and alive all combatting in his conscience.

A dead name floating in the air, but still calling out to the very much alive person they're meant for.

Raiden wants to open his eyes, but if he does he doesn't know what will happen. He has to believe he can overcome it. So he cracks his eyes open slightly.

Mitch is on his knees, hands on Raiden's shoulder, and he's shaking him. His eyes are wide with concern, and maybe fear. The cobalt blues meet Raiden's dull blue contacts.

Raiden is stuttering. He doesn't stutter, but he can't get the words out. He tries though. That's all he can do right now, is try. That's all he could do then too. It wasn't enough then, but maybe now it can be.

"H-h-he-l-lp," it's mumbled, but Mitch understands.

Mitch's eyebrows slant in what most would think is anger, but is mostly fear. Raiden can never read the man for the sole reason of his hypocrisy. One minute he's looking at Raiden like he's a bug under his shoe, and the next he looks like he'd burn the world down if it meant keeping him safe.

Maybe it's more having to do with his job than Raiden's actual safety though. Mitch would probably be demoted and sent to mall security if he were to let the Commission's most prized asset die.