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“Disqualified as a human being. I had now ceased utterly to be a human being.”
― No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu
The news spread around like wildfire, quickly traveling through gossip and hearsay. There were whispers of him being so utterly useless and pathetic that his mother had left. No matter where Izuku would go, chatter was up and about.
Some pitied him from a distance, faces contorting into minuscule frowns as they talked about how deplorable his situation was. Every time Izuku saw those faces, they just hammered down the fact that he was someone that a mother couldn’t even love. He always had to fight down sobs as eyes of verdant green threatened to melt into tears. They just reminded him of his fault, of his shortcoming, of his deficiency.
Some started to oppress him, fists raised and voices booming about how he didn’t deserve any humane treatment. Bruises and wounds started to bloom on his skin, leaving him maimed. Purples and yellows were littered all around him, making him look less of a human being and more of a human-shaped patch of heartseases. Pain blossomed in every move he made, and no form of self-preservation could save him in every instance of aggression.
Some ignored him, as if he wasn’t worth looking at or speaking of. They acted like he wasn’t there; like he was invisible; like he was made of thin air. If pain wasn’t haunting him, silence was. People were reticent around him, shunning him from any human interaction he could receive. Even his teachers had disregarded his wellbeing, letting his bullies go scot-free despite the blatant assault he would receive in front of them.
No matter what Izuku would do, it felt like he always achieved the “bad end” of a game. Any change he made had no effect whatsoever on the outcome he would receive.
It was as if he became no longer human.
Izuku’s optimism died by the third day, when he realized that his situation was unsalvageable. Being soft-spoken and timid did nothing to save him from any bullies that he encountered in school. His table still wasn’t replaced; the surface was littered with curses that were horrifyingly carved, mocking his existence. They ranged from “useless” to “go kill yourself” to “freak of nature”. Seeing them on the first day devastated him and it still did. All his pleas fell on deaf ears, leaving him to drown in a sea of woe.
By the time he got home, he had received various cuts and bruises from bullies he didn’t even know. Some of his notebooks were ripped into shreds, leaving him with a morbid confetti of torn notes. Kacchan had treated him with a greater hostility. The burns he had felt more painful, as if he intended to sear his skin until burning. It didn’t help that the clothes kept rubbing onto the burns, making him wince in pain.
There were tears already pooling in his eyes as Izuku fought them down. Crying wouldn’t help him out of his situation. It’d just give him some time to be emotionally numb. Other than that, no amount of crying and tears would bring him out of his misery.
He did manage to stop himself from devolving into a sobbing mess, grasping at the ends of whatever happiness he had left to spare. There was an odd understanding in him that it wouldn’t take long before he would crumble from the abuse and oppression he would receive. The treatment he received in three days had already worn down his resolve, leaving him incapable to muster any steadfast will to face the next day.
With a suffocating quietude enveloping his entire being, Izuku tended to his wounds and burns. He did his best to make sure that they were properly cleaned, wrapping them with bandages soon after. At the end, most of his upper body and arms were covered with bandages. He just gave out a resigned sigh before melding with the silence, letting the rays of the setting sun bathe him with a radiance he could not feel.
Nightfall came with no fanfare for Izuku. He and the house were drowning in the same silence, as if it was now an inviolable part of his life. It slowly ate through his well-being, leaving him hollowed and tired. His mind had spiraled down into despair, feeding him with thoughts that he could not bear. They haunted him, those of terrifying imagery and gruesome fates his mind conjured.
And then, with all the thoughts that swam in his head, there was one that stood out from the most. It was vague and blurry, but it was filled with an odd compassion. The sounds of that day were muffled in his head; the voice distorted beyond human comprehension. Izuku tried to ascertain what made it stand out, perplexed by the mere fact that it felt so human and different from the rest. The thought made him want to cling to it forever, craving for that warmth and love that came out of nowhere.
And yet, from all his misfortune and misery, there came a stroke of good luck for him. He finally knew why it was so. It was on that night; the night his mother abandoned him. The memory itself still tormented him, for it reminded him that his uselessness led to his mother running away. He recalled the letter. The godfor-
Suddenly, the ground beneath him disappeared, a thud resounding from where he was. There was a distinct feeling of wetness on his face, his vision growing more and more hazy. Izuku brought his hand to his face and noticed that tears were falling from it. Desolation erupted in him, leaving him anguished and angry. He wanted to curse his fate as everything started to pile up; the abandonment, the abuse, the pity, the shunning, everything! Why was it he who was destined to be this unfortunate?! His intentions were good and pure, but they led him to damnation! A scream bubbled up in him, threatening to burst into a litany of curses. And yet, despite the resentment in him, his vexation died down. All that was left were tears and sorrow.
Useless pleas of deliverance left his lips, begging for salvation to whoever could. He begged and begged and begged, until his voice became sore and speaking became a trifling matter.
And then he remembered the warmth from that night; the concern and gentleness that he so craved. Izuku wanted it back, wanted it to dispel his sorrows, wanted it to save him. He then remembered someone leaving his room. A person in formal wear, having an odd black mask. In a last bid for a Hail Mary, he cried out one final time.
“C-Come back…”
The hoarse reply echoed faintly, leaving behind a distorted, spectral voice. Izuku waited, waited, waited, waited, waited, waited, waited, waited, wa-
His plea was heard and the person he saw came back, wearing the same suit and mask. Izuku stretched out his hand, to ensure that he wasn’t hallucinating. It was met with the same gentleness he knew, to which he grasped it tight and never wanted to let go.
“I told you, didn’t I? I’ll come at your beck and call, son.”
The voice had a deep, regal lilt, as if demanding respect from whoever heard it. It boomed across the house, filling the silence it had.
All for One carried his son, hugging him close to his chest. His body almost shook in anger when he saw Izuku hurt and wretched. He kept his calm, not wanting to scare his son with his scornful fury. A portal opened upon his signal, to which he entered with his son, giving Izuku the chance to leave his old, miserable life behind.
“I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.”
― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation