The Class That Cried Werewolf

41 - The Bloodmoon Curse

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains immense depictions of violence, discrimination, and gore. Reader discretion is advised. Please prioritize your mental well-being while engaging with this story, and consider seeking support if you find the subject matter deeply unsettling.

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-Izuku's POV-

After many hours of packing, I wiped the sweat off my brow as my gaze swept around the room, a shadow of what it once had been. Once adorned with posters and mementos of All Might, the walls stood bare, leaving only faint outlines where memories used to hang. My belongings were packed away, neatly sorted into boxes labeled for the dorms. The sight of them stacked in the corner felt like a silent farewell to the comfort of home.

A bittersweet feeling settled over me as I realized that I would be living on campus in just a short time. The thought of leaving Mom behind tugged at my heart. A part of me wanted to stay, to be close to her and ease her worries, but I knew that for the sake of my safety and the well-being of the other students, moving to the dorms was the right choice. Still, the transition felt heavy, especially with the absence of Tatsuya lingering in my mind. I wished he could be a part of this new chapter to share the experience and the challenges ahead.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp trill of my phone ringing from the nightstand. Startled, I reached over and picked it up, my eyes widening in surprise when I saw Uraraka's name flashing on the caller ID. It was unusual for her to call so suddenly, especially this late.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

"Deku! Turn on the TV! Turn it on now!" Uraraka's voice burst through the speaker, filled with a panicked urgency that sent a jolt of adrenaline through me.

"Wh-Whoa, slow down, Uraraka! What's happening?" I asked, my heart beginning to race as I moved to leave my room. The fear in her voice was palpable, and it made my pulse quicken with anxiety.

Suddenly, a sharp crash echoed through the apartment, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering came from the dining room. My heart lurched in my chest, a surge of adrenaline propelling me forward. Panic gripped me as I bolted down the hallway, the air thick with a sense of dread that tightened like a vice around my chest.

Without a second thought, I sprinted down the hallway, my feet pounding against the floor as I raced toward the source of the noise. My pulse was racing, each beat thudding in my ears as I burst through the door, bracing myself for what I might find.

The sight that greeted me in the dining room made my breath catch in my throat. My mom was on her knees, her entire body trembling, surrounded by the shattered remnants of a glass she had been cleaning. The pieces lay scattered across the floor, glinting in the dim light, while water droplets mingled with the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands were pressed against her mouth, stifling the sobs that shook her frame, her face pale with anguish as she struggled to hold herself together.

"Mom!" I called out, my voice trembling with fear as I rushed to her side. But she didn't respond. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, fixed on something in front of her—something that had completely unraveled her usually composed demeanor.

I turned to follow her gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. And then, I saw it—the image on the television screen, the very thing that had shattered her world in an instant.

My entire body went cold, paralyzed by the sight before me. My phone slipped from my grasp, forgotten as it clattered to the floor. The screen was filled with chaotic footage, scenes of destruction and violence that seemed almost surreal. But it was the figure at the center of it all that made my blood run cold—a monstrous, hulking creature, its eyes wild with fury and pain, its form twisted and grotesque. The beast was unmistakable.