𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐞

Ch13

The pros were terribly perplexed.

Kagayaki was now curling in on himself as though his abdomen had been struck with a blunt object, a visible luminosity seeping from the seams of his clothing.

Strobes and beams were cracking through his skin like a clay-covered lightbulb, and the heroes present had no idea how stable he was.

Or rather, how close he was to taking out the block.

He'd taken to shrieking bloody murder long after the remaining citizens were evacuated, yelling names and phrases at random.

At some point in time, however, the pros noted that his shrills were becoming less coherent; more that of intense pain instead of deep regret and sorrow.

He was gradually losing control.

...

"Mister, our mommy says that strangers aren't always good people. Are you a good person?"

The tiny hand that latched around Izuku's index finger suddenly tightened.
As if it were a warning that if he took too long to respond, she wasn't guaranteeing his safety.

"I-I'm sorry, but, weren't you the one who recognised me, dear?"
Izuku chuckled sheepishly, trying his best to appear nonthreatening.

"That's not an answer, and if you call me that again, you lose a finger."

She tugged harder into the direction she was walking in.

'Scary'
He gulped.

"I...Like to think I am. Being a hero, and all."

"You don't have to be a good person to save people. Any moron could do that. But I'll take your word for it."

Izuku was slightly put-off by this child's oddly intellectual perception on morality, but followed nonetheless.

The kids had offered to bring Izuku back to their "camp" as they described it, where there would indeed be more grown-ups like Izuku requested.

He couldn't feel further from a grown-up, however, when the little boys and girls of the group congregated to the front of their path, chanting nonsense and marching onward.

It reminded him of when he, Katsuki and the neighbourhood kids would explore the nearby forested area, of course, under Katsuki's lead.

A few of the kids had stayed to the back with him, though.
Taking turns holding his hands, and asking what his suit was made from.

One little boy asked Izuku to remove his gloves because they were rough and difficult to hold onto, and his mouth hung agape when he saw the cluster of scars that made their way up Izuku's knuckles and wrists, continuing past the sleeve of his suit.

"I-I'm sorry, are they scary?"
Izuku had momentarily forgotten just who was accompanying him.

"No...They're...Cool."
The child carefully poked at the scars as if they were on display.

Izuku smiled.
"Wanna know how I got them?"

The boy's eyes sparkled with excitement.

Izuku engrossed him with tales if his former battles--leaving out the gory details--until the next child asked for her turn, before stopping to listen out of her own curiosity.

Eventually, the kids were less paying attention to returning to their destination, and more focused on Izuku's whimsical tales of endearing justice and difficult pursuits.

Of course, most of these stories involved his partner.

He dare not utter Katsuki's name for fear of a breakdown, but instead assumed that the kids would put two and two together.