Red hood Legacy

Chapter 3: Breaking Point

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The bridge loomed overhead, the night sky casting shadows that danced between the two figures standing at its edge. Izuku stood rigidly, fists clenched at his sides, his expression a storm of resentment. Jason, only a few feet away, felt the tension radiating from his son, the air thick with unspoken words and long-buried emotions.

“Where were you?” Izuku demanded, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where were you when I needed you the most? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone? To be nothing?”

Jason took a steady breath, holding his ground. “I know I can’t change the past,” he replied, voice steady but somber. “But I’m here now, Izuku. I’m not going anywhere.”

But those words only stoked the flames of Izuku’s anger. He turned away, looking out into the dark abyss below, his heart pounding with a tumult of emotions. As memories of isolation and neglect surged to the forefront of his mind, Izuku felt the familiar pull of his quirk, Arsenal, manifesting around him as weapons began to materialize—each one a reflection of the pain he had endured.

“You don’t get to say that,” Izuku hissed, his voice laced with bitterness. “You don’t get to come back and pretend everything’s fine. You left me!”

With a flick of his wrist, twin pistols formed in his hands, gleaming ominously in the faint light. The weight of them felt both empowering and terrifying, an embodiment of the rage boiling inside him. Jason stood still, unwavering, meeting Izuku’s furious gaze with quiet resolve.

“Go ahead,” Jason said, his tone calm yet firm. “If this is what you need, then do it. Let it out, Izuku. All of it.”

For a moment, Izuku’s eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of anger and confusion flooding through him. His hands trembled as emotions warred within him, the weight of his abandonment, his longing for connection, and the fear of being alone all surging forward.

“Fine!” he shouted, pulling the triggers.

The sound of gunfire echoed across the bridge, breaking the fragile silence as twin bullets sped toward Jason. But in one swift motion, Jason deflected the pistols from Izuku’s grip, sending them clattering to the ground. Izuku staggered back, the shock only igniting a fresh wave of rage within him. In a fit of desperation, he summoned a combat knife, lunging forward with a fierce cry.

Jason caught his wrist, twisting the knife from his grip with practiced ease. “Izuku!” he called out, trying to reach the boy beneath the anger. But Izuku fought back, lashing out with a ferocity that bordered on feral, each strike fueled by years of pent-up frustration.

“Why didn’t you fight for me?” Izuku cried, his voice breaking, his strikes growing more erratic. “Why did you leave me to suffer?”

Jason parried each attack, his movements fluid yet restrained, an understanding of the depth of Izuku’s pain etched across his face. “I know I messed up, Izuku. I see that now,” he said, his voice steady but laced with regret. “But you need to hear me. I’m here. I want to make this right.”

But the more Jason spoke, the more Izuku’s emotions spiraled out of control. He pushed forward with everything he had left, striking again and again, each blow echoing with the weight of a childhood spent in loneliness.

Finally, with one last desperate cry, Izuku’s strength gave out, and he collapsed against Jason’s chest, his anger dissipating into exhaustion. His breath came in ragged gasps as tears began to flow, raw and unrestrained.

“I just wanted my dad…” Izuku whispered, the words a choked confession filled with pain. “I just wanted someone to be there for me. To tell me I mattered.”

The confession hit Jason like a punch to the gut, the full weight of his failure crashing down around him. He wrapped his arms around Izuku, pulling him close, feeling the tremors of his son’s sobs against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Jason murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I failed you… I should have been there. I should have fought for you.”

Izuku clung to Jason, his body wracked with shuddering sobs as he finally allowed himself to feel the pain he had hidden for so long. The fight had drained him, leaving only a hollow ache and the desperate need for the family he had yearned for.

“I’m here now,” Jason said, his voice fierce and unwavering, pressing a hand to the back of Izuku’s head. “I won’t let you go through this alone anymore.”

The air around them felt different now—charged with understanding and the fragile beginnings of healing. Izuku’s quirk, Arsenal, began to fade away, the weapons dissipating as the weight of acceptance settled upon him, finally allowing a flicker of hope to ignite in his heart.

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