Cold Instinct || Vigilante Deku

ⁿᵒ.1

— The Rejected —

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No one ever tells you just how loud silences can be. It makes you go deaf at times and the worst part is you can't help yourself because it's all in your head.

__

His eyes fluttered loose with the pain his body had finally decided to acknowledge, blood was seeping through his black hoodie. Back forced to lean against the cold, brick wall, the breeze didn't help even though he was burning up. With the lack of light, he wasn't sure how badly he had gotten himself injured, not that he cared though.

Letting out a dry cough after a hiss, he regained his posture, getting up from the ground while using the wall for support, he fished his phone from his pocket, thankfully it had a zipper so he didn't have to worry about the piece of tech falling off.

"3.48 am..." He muttered and a sigh followed, it was way too soon to go back home, that is if you could call it that. His body was limping with each step, forcing him to make frequent stops to catch his breath, tomorrow was going to be a long, long day.

The way back to home was a blur, and before he knew it he was climbing up the stairs right outside the apartment building, built in case a fire broke out, he occupied his head with the assignment that had been given by his teacher, an essay.

Assignments had been piling up, occupying one corner of his desk; days passing by and the night rolling around before his mind could awaken, nights eventful with petty criminals and villains were his only reason to keep going.

It wasn't like anyone cared.

Not when he missed out on homework, not when he passed out on top of his carved desk during class, not when he showed up with colourful bruises of various sizes all over his body.

He despised school, and the one place he was meant to feel safe was more of a nightmare. He couldn't bring himself to blame his parents. His mother had been working non-stop, and as for his father, the man wanted to do nothing with his own flesh and blood.

He didn't blame them.

He didn't blame him.

He blamed himself.

He was quirkless, had no purpose in life, merited nothing. And certainly wouldn't amount to anything. Quirkless. It had been far too long since he had accepted that. His entire world had crumbled to rubbles and ashes.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get that day out of his head.

The way his mom hugged him so so tight while bawling her eyes out as she apologized over and over again. He hated not accepting the reality of it all. He hated having hoped for the best no matter what until he didn't.

With a sigh, he carefully opened the window, a soft hiss escaped his bleeding lips as he jumped inside and fell on the floor.

"Dammit-!"

A group of drug dealers had been going around, the word on the streets was that the thing was no ordinary drug, and those people weren't some petty criminals, they worked with the Yakuza. He had been trying to find them, investigating to the point he knew more than the people in charge, searching under every rock, but that wasn't enough.

Nothing he ever did was ever enough and it was getting on his nerves.

When he thought about it, this whole system, the way that the society works, thinks and acts was laughable. Everyone he came across was a hypocrite. Nothing they did or said made sense anymore.