'It was unexpected, I don't even want to remember. It's a pity that it's still behind you, breathing right into your back. And it happens again. I want to run far and for a long time. Never come back.'
Dagoba Beach is the perfect place—at least, it used to be.
"Just die already and find a Quirk in your next life!"
It's not worth your effort. It's pointless. You tried to stop thinking about it and focus on the future. To accept that working at a café is your limit. A one-room apartment is your maximum. Keep your fantasies to yourself and try to live quietly, without causing trouble. You're useless.
Your cute face will stay cute—but useless. The same goes for your intelligence. You don't have a Quirk. You don't fit.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's reality. Time to grow up.
The sun is still too high—why? Why is there so much free time left? Might as well count the lines in the notebook.
All Might coughed and turned the doorknob. A creaking sound echoed across the roof, leaving only a bitter aftertaste.
The phone screen flickers—so annoying. How do you turn it off? Deku's vision is doubling. There's too much saliva in his mouth—why is it so hard to swallow? Ugh, the doorknob is freezing. "Gotta… go."
A locked, dark room. A slippery staircase. Six floors left. A strange explosion made his ears ring—the echo still lingers.
"What happened there…?" His head is still splitting. Midoriya, gripping the railing with one hand, slowly descended. His temples throbbed, his eyes growing wet. Like a sledgehammer had struck his skull.
He bit his cheek and kept moving. Outside, the noise grew louder. Deku heard another explosion. He opened the door, and cold air slammed into his face. Izuku winced.
His backpack was still on the roof. Damn it. Whatever, nothing valuable in there anyway—just paper.
A deep breath, then another. For some reason, the street is empty—must be something serious. Izuku stared at the distant smoke. Getting there wouldn't be hard.
A cough that tore at his throat—even a chain smoker would envy it. He hacked something up. Some kind of mush. A mix of mucus and blood. Probably his lunch, too.
Izuku snapped back to his senses, as if weights had been lifted from his legs. He ran forward—looking at that mess was painful and disgusting. If he stayed any longer, he'd vomit up whatever was left.
His chest ached, but the pain wasn't getting worse. What came out of him? Maybe running was a mistake—sleep wouldn't hurt right now. Just don't close your eyes. His best friend can wait.
"God! What happened here?!" A young woman was just heading home—this was the last thing her tired eyes wanted to see today.
Izuku made it downstairs relatively fast. It almost felt easy, despite the pain. "Hello? Yes, I'd like to report—"
Barely staying conscious, Deku reached the scene—seems he was too late.
He looked around. Clumps of mucus were clearly visible on the ground, along with scorched walls. The crowd slowly dispersed. People murmured among themselves about All Might.
His stomach twisted. For the first time, he noticed his shoes. Bright red had turned into a mix of dark green and scarlet. Something dripped onto them.
He saw Bakugou yelling at a medic. Next to him stood a boy with curly purple hair, staring intently at Deku.
Looks like he saved Kacchan. Izuku met the boy's eyes and smirked.
"Brainwashing," they say… Interesting. They exchanged glances—the other boy didn't seem to like it. Fear pushed him back; he took a step away and looked at Katsuki, then said something to Bakugou. Both he and the medic turned to stare.
The wind gusted slightly, tangling Izuku's hair. Mucus still dripped—his hair was wet. It blocked his vision, and he almost liked not seeing those pitying looks.
That voice—rough, with a hint of unknown sorrow. Why did he wish him dead, only to look at him like this now? "Deku…? What are you doing here?"
Truthfully, he didn't want to see him. He didn't want anything. Just to go home, lie in a warm bed, eat something tasty, and laugh. But here he was—at the epicenter of an event that was already over. Two pairs of eyes burned holes into him. One even spoke, making his temples pulse faster and harder.
Deku looked at All Might walking down a nearby road—he didn't even see them. Good.
Izuku hadn't noticed before, but his left arm wasn't working right. Numbness spread through his body. Every movement brought pain; goosebumps prickled his skin.
Something sweet was on his lips. He swallowed—and liked it.
The boys started moving toward him, their eyes a mix of fear, worry, and pity. It disgusted him—more than the mucus, more than his torn uniform, more than the blood he was losing.
He decided to run—as far away as possible. Despite the pain flaring back up, despite the vomit threatening to rise. Deku sprinted straight down the road. Maybe a car would hit him and end it all. That's all he wanted now.
Izuku just wanted to stop feeling those stares—the pity, the anger, the resentment, the mockery. He just ran forward, wherever his feet took him. He didn't care. Alone, in silence.
"Damn it—" He coughed violently as he ran. Despite his battered state, Bakugou couldn't catch up. "I'm gonna—cough-cough—"
He turned into a narrow alley and collapsed, back against the wall. The mucus must've wrecked him, even though All Might pulled him out—albeit in a disgusting way.
Gasping, he fought to keep his eyes open. The sweet taste in his mouth didn't fade—if anything, it grew stronger. Swallowing was hard; his ruined uniform stuck to him. With heavy eyes, he stared at the two figures standing over him—one, maybe both, were panting. Their breathing was ragged.
"Thank you. Good thing you reacted quickly." The detective shook her hand. "Unfortunately, we can't remove anything yet—the investigation is still ongoing."
"Yeah… Yeah. So, for now, it's restricted. Looks like attempted murder, yeah yeah, I'll call back."
"Sir! We found a yellow backpack on the roof—and a lot of grime. Looks like mucus."
The assistant handed over a brief report along with some other documents.
The backpack was quickly identified—despite the dirt and torn pages, the belongings were presumed to be Midoriya Izuku's.
What exactly happened in the building was still unclear. Neighbors heard nothing, and there were no security cameras. Current theory: Robbery and, apparently, murder. No body found.
"De—Izuku! What the hell's wrong with you?!" He grabbed his shoulders, trying to snap the smiling boy back to reality.
Izuku looked at him with sad eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. He stayed silent.
"Where'd this damn mucus come from?! Hey! Can you hear me?! Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!" His voice trembled.
Hey, Bakugou.
"Piss off, Shitty Hair! Not in the mood!" He was still breathing hard, his eyes darting wildly between Shinsou and Izuku.
He's already dead, Bakugou.
"Huh? Ha-ha-ha! Don't fuck with me like that." He shook his head, looking from Shinsou to Izuku. "Look, he's still breathing—" His arms were covered in blood up to the elbows; his white shirt, freshly issued, was now stained red.
Shinsou wasn't any better. He stared at the corpse and the blood—fresh and dried—smeared everywhere. Mixed with mucus, it was revolting. He vomited. Katsuki wasn't doing great either, but he was holding on by sheer will.
They both stepped out of the alley—their appearance didn't inspire trust.
Katsuki pulled out his phone, hands shaking so badly he could barely press the keys. Shinsou ran toward the medics nearby.
A long dial tone. Ringing in his ears, disorienting.
"Mom, hey…?"
This is heavy—heh. He dragged him by the left arm, the uniform scraping against asphalt. A trail of blood dried instantly behind them. No smell.
Stumbling through alleys, he navigated debris, dirt, and trash until he reached Dagobah Beach. A deserted place—perfect. A smile played on his face as the pleasant wind brushed against him. The warm sunset bathed his pale skin.
He dragged the body straight into the water—almost there. Too many rocks here, no need to worry. A few ropes, and it's nearly perfect.
He laughed, staring far ahead. The sun welcomed him. Izuku stood there for a while, yawned, then ran.
Ran into the thick forest.
Neither he nor Bakugou really like All Might. For now, they're the only ones who know.
Hitoshi also accepted the opportunity Toshinori gave him—after all, it'd be a sin to refuse. Right?
He looked at the cleanup they'd done. Bakugou was proud; Shinsou was satisfied.
"Feels like people will come here tomorrow."
"Yeah." Katsuki kicked the sand and walked ahead.
In the clean sea, only a single page remained—torn from a half-burned notebook.
"Good luck on tomorrow's exam!"