Irredeemable

An Offer

random special guest ftw

also this chapter sucks...

its kind of a pre-real chapter kinda thing but i didnt wanna put 'em together yk aszrjfk

anyways its being updated today coz i didnt on friday xD

(also idk where like 100 words disappeared to from the original version, but if something seems iffy...

i guess that might be where B))

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The sound of a clicking keyboard accompanied the muffled sets of music and ragged breaths of the gym, only minor chattering in the background until the man at the front desk finally spoke up.

"Mikumo Akatani?" he asked, barely looking up from his computer.

Unimpressed at the man's absolute monotony - especially in such a setting - Izuku's eyes flicked towards the reflection in the man's eyes before he put on a smile, forcing a hint of cheer into his voice. "That's me!"

"Alright," the man said, waving him along, "You can go through."

The freckled boy gave a quick nod, only to turn around and roll his eyes as his smile fell. His thumb flicked at the meager 14 dollars in his pocket, and he mumbled something about 'greedy bastards' under his breath.

Once he had gotten past the annoyance about his money, though, Izuku ducked his head and squeezed in between the muscle heads that littered the gym. Ignoring the stench of sweat and the huffs of breath, he found himself walking towards the treadmill.

After earning a decent chunk of money from Giran, Izuku had decided that his best bet was to lay low. And, while it may seem unconventional to some, he came to the conclusion that a gym membership would help in his goals. At the very least, the boy reasoned, he'd be able to get some showers in along with much-needed workouts.

Although Izuku had somehow managed to survive his past encounters on pure adrenaline, he knew it wouldn't last; in order to keep himself alive and afloat, he'd actually need to put in the effort.

As he walked to the treadmill, though, it seemed as if everything came crashing around him.

He'd been pushing away - disregarding each incident as if they were nothing. He never had the time to think about them with everything happening all at once.

But as soon as he had time to himself, it felt like he was being hit by a truck.

Stumbling forwards with wide eyes, Izuku found himself leaning against the treadmill, his ears filled with nothing but his rapid breaths and untameable heartbeat.

Each speck of blood that stained his hands seemed to rise to the surface, causing his stomach to churn with an indescribable sickness. His skin pricked and burned with the memories of having to stitch his own wounds with nothing but a spool of thread, a tiny needle, and a bit of alcohol, screams escaping his throat each time the needle pierced. His fingers trembled as he remembered the feeling, not realizing just how awful it was before.

His memories of other incidents weren't kind, either.

Having to pop his shoulder back into place. Having to wipe his injuries clean, ignoring the stings of pain with each swab. Having to gag at the smell of his father's rotting corpse as he cleaned up the bloody, disgusting mess. Having to withstand the prodding needles and horrifying pain that came with his kidnapping by the League.

Having to survive on his own in a pain-inducing world.

The throbbing of Izuku's skull transformed into a rhythmic buzz, his vision darkening and becoming fuzzy. His breaths became erratic and he didn't notice as his hand flew up to fall upon his chest.