Cicatrize

33

Your eyes open to an unfamiliar environment. For a moment, your brain struggles to grasp just what is happening, the memories stored in your hippocampus whizzing past your eyes like a fast-forwarded movie being played at top speeds.

It all happens too fast for you to process; the last thing you remember is your lover–Nozomi's gentle caress to your cheek as he whispers that he will always be with you. You swear that, that was the end. That was the end of your life, the end to your suffering that had been going on for years and years. Lifetimes, even.

But just as quickly as you are given hope, you are stripped of it too.

You can only stare at the ceiling in shock, your vision still not accustomed to being used after God knows how long. Your limbs feel... weak. A type of weakness you had only ever felt in your life once–in your final moments fighting against All for One.

When you get up, your body falters in its steps. Your legs are close to giving out under you and your headache seems to be growing with each passing second.

You haunt the grim hallways with a certain desperation evident in your steps, the words spilling out of your lips like a waterfall as you pull together a sliver of hope in your body.

"N-Nozomi!"

You don't receive a response.

"[Brother Name]!"

You swore you talked with him, with your parents, with your sister and your friends and your comrades and so, so many people...!

Where is everyone...?

Your thoughts echo in the vacancy of your mind, filled with nothing but fear of everything. You realize at that moment when you're calling out to anyone nearby: that you're scared.

You, [Last Name][Name], are scared.

You're scared of what is going on. You can't properly recall what happened to you last. You swear that your last memories should be of your fight against All for One, but you know that there's more to it and it makes your skin crawl.

It makes you sick how your mind refuses to do its job and recall everything properly.

Where are you? What even is this place? Why are you here? Why does your body feel so real and... fleshy?! You could have sworn you had died...!

Questions upon questions pile up in your head, but all of them remained unanswered.

It isn't until you stumble into a hallway that opens to a bigger hallway that you across someone, a person–a man.

His hair is dark like the night sky, or the flaky ashes of burnt paper. His eyes are a shade far bluer than any sky you've seen in your life, and his skin is marred with scars upon scars. Each of them is decorated with staples, with piercings adorning the few patches of pale skin that remains untouched, compared to the purple blotches.

Those azure blue eyes of his, widen at the sight of you; hunched over like some sort of cave creature and eyes blown wide like you had just seen unspeakable horrors (that, you had).

For a moment, your fight or flight response kicks in, and your mind almost convinces you that the man across from you is an enemy, all too eager to pounce now that you're weakened beyond help.

But that thought is quick to be thrown out when instead of a maniacal look to decorate his face, little blobs of tears, like tepid raindrops begin to drip down his mismatched cheeks.

"[Name]..." The man speaks, and a sickening feeling burns deep inside your sternum. You have half a mind to activate your quirk and finish him off right then and there, but something stops you.