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The sensation of falling.
Not hearing, seeing, and not even breathing.
It was not cold but neither was it warm, but still it sent a shiver down his spine. Everything around him in complete darkness. He is blind, because he doesn’t exist, he is a consciousness intertwined with the world. He know his body is there, his arms, he can move them. But there is no change, he can’t feel them move since he can’t feel anything, neither can he see them do it. They might as well not move at all and he wouldn’t even notice.
Suffocating, reaching out, not existing.
He is all alone where no one could reach him and even if he tried to cry at the top of his lungs for help no one would hear him. He wouldn’t even hear himself. So he doesn’t scream. Even while he knows his body is aching for air, drowning in nothingness, he can’t feel it. He feel nothing at all.
Serenity, silence, a pause.
Everything is fine. Even as he fall, further and further, everything is alright. It is calm, it is familiar, and he is used to it. He knows he can get back anytime he wants. But he doesn’t want to, not yet. He was afraid of falling before, even as he had mastered it. Every time he released his quirk he felt like he was dying, the world choking him until he made it out. It only took a moment, but it was horrible. He learned to bear with it, it was a small price to pay to gain the ability to phase through the ground after all. The feeling was part of him. After having done it over and over again, the process of suddenly dropping, falling down, emptiness, getting crushed, and finally air in his lungs again had been embedded in his memory.
A cry for help.
He doesn’t know where it came from, he shouldn’t be able to hear it. He release his quirk, start to exist. He must help, he must save her, he won’t let her be sad ever again! The world isn’t choking him. He can’t feel his body accelerating. The wonderful sensation of air filling his lungs never comes. He just open his eyes to be greeted with the all too familiar ceiling.
The memory of the fight 5 years ago never left him. It wasn’t the first time he had this dream. At first it had been a burden, a nightmare he had to live through every night. And in the morning he would, like in a trance, punch the wall over and over and over again. It might work next time right?
But it got better. Instead of waking up with his hands shaking and out of breath he now wore a big grin. This was his fuel, his determination. If he got hung up on the first person just because he almost didn’t succeed, how was he supposed to save 999.999 more?