'A real angel who sees the answer to his stupid question still cannot accept what he has to experience. Like a lab rat, he will sit and wait in the wings, it's pointless to try. The end is always the same.'
Turns out, the fishing knife he secretly bought at a small shop can cut more than just fishing line. It tickles the hand so much—just nonsense. Not that there's any meaning to it. He just wanted to learn something new, hidden deep, deep down. Besides, the opportunity was perfect, given all the circumstances.
Even paper… It stays smooth, unbelievably smooth. He giggled as he cut out little stars. Every now and then, his gaze fell on the closed window. A blizzard.
The feeling was like a bunch of tiny ants biting in one spot or acid hissing—that's what the sensation of metal dragged across his palm was like. Still, he had to press harder; otherwise, it just stiffened the movement, leaving everything as it was.
And so passed his boring winter break. The variety came as fast as it could. Every day, he wanted to try something completely new, but it seemed hard to imagine. Even quirks are powerless when you're bored.
Though maybe not, but Midoriya had simply never heard of such things. —"There must be, if I just look!"— He hopped out of bed and lay back down. —"Or maybe…"
This was his small beginning in his search and pursuit of what wasn't there. Exactly what Izuku couldn't handle. Everything returned as if it had never happened, only the whistling wind outside the window.
—"The window's already cracking at the seams… Seems like the cozy atmosphere could end any second."— Momo complained, sipping tea—a rare sight for such an elegant lady.
The energetic part of the class, of course, sprang into action, but it's not like it helped. Turns out, Aizawa is a teacher for a reason—because he's no fool. They apologized and tried to ignore his dissatisfied muttering, continuing to work with the tools without smashing their fingers.
Kaminari, with his electricity, somehow got the worst of it. A straight-up intolerance to cold—frost kept creeping over him even through the closed window. At least no one was crying or cursing.
Midoriya helped too, the hissing of his hands not surprising anyone. It seemed Deku was just as sensitive to cold as Kaminari. But despite that, his hands were steady and didn't tremble from the chill. —"Deku! For god's sake, put on your damn gloves!"
—"Heh."— He blew cold air in his face. —"Thanks, Kacchan."— His fingers slipped smoothly, brushing against the soft material of the leather gloves. That burning sensation returned, and before his eyes, vague images of the stars he'd cut out the day before flickered.
It instantly got warmer—someone even managed to wipe sweat from their forehead. Oh, Kacchan exploded again. Poor Iida, but at least he didn't have to clean his glasses. Though the scene still felt blurry, like something was missing.
Everyone's cheeks were red, even in such warm weather. Oh, it didn't last forever, of course. Aizawa managed to lecture them all. But looking at his dead-eyed stare, paler than ever from the cold, no one dared to protest. Winter training—not happiness, but pure hell. Midoriya smirked. Two months ago, it had been fun.
By the way, black tea is really warming. And no, it's not because green tea just ran out, not because Izuku is tough and brutal. There are five spoons of sugar in it! Deku stares at his reflection, thoughts wandering.
Strange and not so strange. —"Hope no one saw. I think I overdid it with the sugar this time."— The taste wasn't the same, faintly reminding him of the blood he licked off his palm like a cat. Unfortunately, even the noise of the TV and the guys sitting nearby didn't help him focus on these sick things. —"Well, at least it's not bad."— He took another sip, and a tired smile spread across his face.
If you looked around the room, he wasn't the only one like that. The hard work of sealing or insulating—he still didn't know what to call it—had worn everyone out. This time, the windows didn't creak, just a little. The blizzard had begun.
At some point, his hero notes turned into diaries. Some he showed to classmates, some he had shown, and somewhere, paper rotted away, hidden from prying eyes.
He wanted to flip through them again, just once. To remember why it all started, why red no longer disgusted him, why the glint of steel in the dark fogged his mind. It led nowhere—just felt both familiar and utterly alien.
It was incredibly hard to decide what to do next.
Izuku sits, drawing. He thinks the break really is boring—nothing even grabs his interest. Though remembering all the petty events he stumbled into by accident, where the main clown was a classmate…
He wants to laugh. —"I wonder, is this what friendship is?"
Too bad only the endless blizzard gives him its simple answer, slowly seeping into the cozy room.
The morning news was playing who-knows-what. Someone was definitely outraged—sounded like Toko… Not that it mattered. —"Last night, a young woman was mysteriously murdered. She had only recently graduated from university."— A slight tremble in her stern voice. —"The world can be so cruel sometimes."
The girls at breakfast gasped, some even unable to hold back tears. The guys just tried to calm things down. —"Kyoka can be really sensitive sometimes,"— he thought.
Out of habit, Midoriya just chewed his bun, his damp cheeks turning red. Not that he sympathized with the victim's parents or pitied the girl… Nothing. Death seemed trivial.
People are born and die every day anyway.
—"Once again, only one mark was left at the crime scene. The villain will soon be caught—" Bzz, bzz—the TV noise and clicking. —"Oh, Yaoyorozu, thanks."— A plush Kinoko, on sale today! Discount only—
Breakfast went well; most had already calmed down. Kacchan seemed to have forgotten entirely, just laughing at what a crybaby Deku was. Kirishima just gave him a light smack—their little secret.
"You've got a bump on the back of your head, ha-ha, Bakugo." —The blizzard whispered outside the dorm walls.
No one would know how he got it. Everyone would just think Kirishima hits hard.
Speaking of the evening news, Izuku tried making origami. Too bad nothing came of it, but it reminded him of something stupid and funny. The crumpled paper flew into the trash, and the light went out.
—"This winter's something else! Even the villains causing havoc have stopped. That includes our evening news!"— Her nose was red, but her professional smile and posture didn't waver. —"Just recently, I was informed the attacker from this morning has been caught… Nothing more to fear! Turns out—" A mess of colorful noise. It didn't ruin the evening tea too much—just an unpleasant taste. Slightly.
The blizzard rages—really snowed today.
—"Ooooh! Not again!"
—"No, Kaminari… No need to fix the TV."— Sipping hot tea, Midoriya could only comfort him as the cup stung his scarred palms.
Today, they played tag. —"So childish,"— Bakugo muttered from the sidelines, his nervous stomping making it clear he definitely didn't want to join. Definitely…
Obviously, even with the sun and snow underfoot, twenty people didn't dare play in such a big crowd. Just pointless.
—"I wonder… What are they thinking?"— Midoriya watched the girls who had a picnic right under a snow-covered tree. He forgot the knife he was spinning in his pocket was sharp.
Deku squeaked.
—"Bless you!"
He'd like to treat the wound, but it healed way too fast. —"I didn't even wash it… Ah, whatever."
—"Ugh, when will this winter end, aaah! I can't take it anymore…!"— Only the blizzard, accompanied by disgruntled sighs, led everyone back to the dorm. The snow buried everything. —"Wish Bakugo would blow up again…"
Bloodstains now buried forever under the snow. Maybe when it melts, nothing will remain. His hands feel tired again, barely obeying, making his whole body sink lower and lower.
A pretty boring routine. Drink tea, take a walk if possible, drink tea. Hagakure basically turned into a walking snowman with pink gloves—looks funny and cute.
Returning to his room, it's worth mentioning that sometimes it's freezing cold. Wonder if it's like that for everyone, which is why they're all in the common room, or just him? —"Should I write it down in the notebook?"— Deku looks at it but doesn't dare open it. Can't even step onto the balcony—everything's buried… —"Gotta clean it."
Not that the broom was any help. It snows, he cleans. Wonder how long he'll last? The weather's no fairy tale, not at all. A long-sleeve shirt is definitely not the solution. A good chance to see how long until he freezes to death.
Honestly, everything looks kinda unnatural. Take the railing he likes to lean on—why is it so fragile? He just put his hands on it and almost got buried. Second floor and snowdrifts are no joke. —"Well,"— Deku shrugged, —"at least it's warm and the wind's nice."
The pens are due for a refill—his three are almost empty. Pencil erases too easily—not what he needs. Too black… —"I definitely need to freshen up!"
Midoriya jumped up and briskly headed to the common room. —"Yaoyorozu! Pour me a cup too, please!"
And the wind kept blowing, turning the lush curtains into blood-blue ice, leaving a glittering frost on the edges. Wonder what's written on those pages where only thick blood replaces ink.
—"Green or black?"
—"Your choice!"
—"Okay."
Some kind of Groundhog Day, huh? Aizawa came by recently. Break's extended—another two weeks. Pretty boring, gotta come up with a plan… Otherwise, I might just get dull. —"Well, great idea, Iida! I like it!"
They decided to go to the store—almost the second time this month. The first didn't go too smoothly. Remembering Shigaraki's hands gently brushing his neck, mentally trying to strangle him. —"Sure! How about tomorrow morning?"— He'd love to see him again—an interesting character, his head quirks make Midoriya laugh.
A crunch like broken glass followed him as he slowly walked to the bed. A white moth fluttered around the lamp, spinning left and right. So mesmerizing, especially this time of year. Everything fits and blends. The cold side of the pillow just adds to the calm.
Were there always this many of them here?
There it is—that pleasant smell of peaches and other fruits. You can really feel the atmosphere of the store, a fruit store… —"Alright! Let's split into groups, and everyone goes where they need! Meet back here in forty minutes!"— Iida pointed at the clock. —"Forty minutes!"
Honestly, Deku had a terrible sense of smell—like a sick dog that can't recognize its own owner. Same with taste… And his vision's bad—just never got the chance to buy glasses or maybe contacts. Ugh, this mall. What should he get? Useful and interesting. Cheap, preferably.
A broom, a hammer, pens… What else? —Izuku muttered without looking where he was going. And honestly, it's pretty obvious he'd run into someone he might not have wanted to see a while back. Shigaraki, for example? No idea, really. The central roof was open, so piles of snow were here too. Though they were actively clearing it, sometimes it melted on its own. Like it was already spring inside, or even summer.
Truthfully, he wasn't alone here—they just had to split up since everyone needed their own stuff right now! So he's wandering alone. His white hair doesn't stand out. The dumb crowd thought the snow loved him especially, falling only on him. —"Hello, Midoriya."
He seriously expected at least a punch to the gut—who knows. Definitely not a cold stare, like a blind man turning to you. His eyes, dusted with light snowflakes, gave nothing away. —"He's definitely got vision problems!"
Of course, in one moment, the villain's brutality was lost, and in the next, his hand was at his neck like a threat. This time would be like last time. Hand. Neck. Silence and no movement.
From the side, they really did look like friends, especially when Deku grabbed his jacket. Like he was holding him back so he wouldn't accidentally fall. Somewhere above, the blizzard raged, but the public space was calm. No whistling or cracking. Just the faint music from the first floor barely reaching their reddened ears. —"Cold... Coffee?"
He wanted to bolt as fast as possible—this atmosphere and the place they were standing really unnerved him. But the words just spilled out. Shigaraki just doesn't know how to act. This alley, apparently leading to restrooms, really unnerved him. Like something otherworldly, dead, frozen was there.
—"Sure. I'll let my friends know I'll be a little late."
The room must've thawed by now, the carpet soaking up all the liquid. Definitely nothing to worry about. Turns out, the fishing knife isn't that useful. It'll lie there, bloodied, like a souvenir. Somewhere far, far away. And the ground-up organs and body parts will be mistaken for spilled smoothie. Especially remembering his first time—back then, it wasn't anything special. Just a joke, and that's it.
But later, after thinking, it really was true. Pressing harder gave much better results. But it still didn't meet his expectations—even the second time didn't fix it.
Absolutely nothing changed. Deku only knows the feeling of cold wind constantly slamming into his face with a crack. These weren't his desires—they existed, but not for long. Boring, isn't it?
Remembering how hard he tried to chase his goal, which in the end just burned out—no use at all. Like robbing a store. What's the point if you know you can't escape? Might as well end it. Looking at his fingers and into the distance, you might not even notice the difference. There, snow melts. Here, skin dissolves like under acid. Flesh falls off and rots. Organs just spill out with the blood.
And then it all starts over, and with a cup of tea in hand, you stare at the balcony—once the cause of your demise—and take a sip.
Midoriya was and is a very curious person, so he immediately went online. Unfortunately, there was nothing—zero information about this. Why did it start now, and how did it happen to him? Curiosity always won. He searched for what essentially didn't exist. That's why his room had a chilling itch. He never closed the balcony window. Midoriya always left the bodies right under his nose—never hid them.
They disappeared on their own, and only the carpet got cleaned occasionally.
That's exactly why Deku kept pursuing and searching for a way out of this—how to end it, where to find the conclusion. Where to find a bigger knife…? He couldn't hit a dead end. He fit the word "bloodhound" perfectly.
—"Since we finished the coffee, I'll go—"
—"Wait!"— Izuku grabbed his tattered jacket sleeve. —"There's one more thing I wanna discuss with you."