My Quirk wants me dead

The Curse of the Almosts

After I let it all out about the weird stuff that happened to me today, I could see the concern etched on Eraserhead and Mic's faces. But there was more to this story. Way more. This wasn't just about one bad day. This was about a lifetime of near-misses, and it was time I told them everything.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. 

They need to know it all.

Me: Today... it wasn't the first time something like this has happened. It's just the first time it's ever been this bad.

Eraserhead: You mean these kinds of things have happened before?

Me: Yeah, for as long as I can remember. It's like I've always had this weird, bad luck following me around, but it was never dangerous—at least not like today.

Mic: Give us some examples, Izuku. What kind of stuff are we talking about?

Me: Well... when I was four, I was at a birthday party. We were playing hide and seek, and I crawled under the table to hide. Just as I got under there, the whole thing collapsed. The table wasn't old, it wasn't wobbly. It just... fell apart. All the food, the cake, everything came crashing down. But somehow, I wasn't hurt. My mom pulled me out just in time.

Eraserhead: Anything else?

That was just the beginning.

Me: When I was seven, I was playing in the backyard, and there was this old tree I used to climb. One day, I got up to my usual spot, and the branch snapped. It wasn't dead or anything—it was thick and sturdy. But it broke, just like that. I was hanging there, dangling by one hand, when my mom ran out and caught me before I hit the ground. I should've broken something, but I was fine.

Mic: Man, that's rough. You've got more, don't you?

They have no idea.

Me: Yeah. A lot more. When I was nine, I was in my room doing homework, and the light fixture above my desk just fell. It shattered right on top of me, but somehow, I did get cut all over. My mom heard the crash and came running in. I remember her being really freaked out, but she told me it was just an accident.

Eraserhead: But this wasn't just bad luck, was it?

I shook my head, feeling a lump form in my throat. 

It never felt like just bad luck.

Me: When I was ten, my mom and I were walking to the grocery store, and this dog—huge, aggressive, off-leash—came barreling toward us out of nowhere. It was like it had gone mad. My mom grabbed me and pulled me into a shop just before it reached us. The shop owner said later that the dog wasn't known for being aggressive, and no one knew why it acted like that. But if my mom hadn't been there... I don't know what would've happened.

Mic: Jeez, kid. That's a lot for one person to deal with.

Eraserhead: And these things never stopped?

Me: No. They kept happening and getting worse. Like, when I was eleven, I was helping my mom in the kitchen. I was stirring a pot on the stove, and all of a sudden, the stove caught fire. It wasn't just the food— the whole stove was engulfed in flames. My mom grabbed a fire extinguisher and put it out before it spread, but it was so close to getting out of control.

Why was this my life? 

Why did all these things keep happening to me?

Eraserhead and Mic were silent for a moment, processing everything I'd just told them. I could see the wheels turning in their heads, trying to make sense of it all. But how could they? It didn't make any sense.

Mic: So all this time, it's been your mom keeping you safe?

Me: Yeah. She always seemed to know when something was about to happen but at one point after everything she started to stop caring as if she accepted that some thtings can't be stopped and found her peace with that....

Eraserhead: *sigh*

I nodded, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine.

Me: I don't know why, but it feels like all those years of small things—things that could've been accidents but weren't—they all caught up with me today. 

Mic: This isn't just bad luck. This is something else, something serious.

Eraserhead: This sounds more like a quirk to me......