"Don't let me go."
"Don't worry, I won't ever let you go. I promise."
Ikari's scar is the first thing that people notice. And it drives them away, since it is the symbol of her father, one of the most feared villains of all time... before he died.
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Tell me any questions about the story if you have any, or if you have any others for a 10K special... thank you so much again!!
—
"I'm proud of you, Ikari."—Todoroki Shoto
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*warning: violence and swearing
POV—Hebinoya Ikari
Aftermath
Don't let me go.
It takes me a few seconds
to realize that the crunch
came from my leg.
Then,
pain.
Don't let me go.
A scream tears free of my throat as I dig my nails into the dirt. The hammer atop me is still tightly wedged onto my left leg, every inch of my flesh crushed by debris, sending waves of unbearable pain through my body. Fire climbs up my calf, past my knee, thousands of stars in my eyes. Through all my pain, I struggle to summon my Quirk, preventing me from getting the damn hammer off my leg. My hands scrabble at my leg, still on fire, trying to pull it out.
Darkness creeps up at the edge of my vision.
Not yet. Not yet.
A round of bullets pierce my ears. I look up to see Manipulae's thick shield being peppered with bullets, barely breaking through its exterior. I can't twist my aching body to where Alessia is. Nichi's body lays beside me. I'm alone.
I push myself up to a sitting position, ignoring the pain.
I take a deep breath.
In.
Out.
A shot of electricity, then blinding light. The hammer explodes into pieces, sending a slight heat singing at my arms. My leg's pain turns from an unbearable mess to a painful throb. When I look down, it is terribly mangled, bits of bone and flesh scattered around the rubble. Blood flows out of a deep piercing near my knee. My consciousness begins to slips away, but I pull it back, pinching at my skin.
Ahead of me, Manipulae screeches again and sends another wave of trash to the police cars, upending three of them. I watch as two police officers are crushed beneath them. Bile rises up in my throat. Without warning, I lean over and I puke, sending the contents of today's breakfast all over the burnt concrete.
