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Aizawa sat in front of the stage in the auditorium, he had already known the difficulties of being a hero and the mental health problems that resulted from such stress and trauma. Yet, what he hadn’t considered was the people who had already been suffering before entering UA. In this case, it was the one student he held close to him, and he could genuinely have a good time even if the student scared the shit out of him.
Nezu stood before the crowd of his students and began to announce the purpose of the assembly. “Today we will be having a speech about suicide awareness. Mental health is very important for heroes as you will face struggles and problems if you haven’t already. We are fortunate enough to have our very own student come up and discuss his struggles with suicide. Give him all your respect because we won’t tolerate any disrespect on such a serious matter.”
It was silent, most people were bored. The only thing keeping their attention is the secret suicidal student in the school. While mental health was acknowledged at the end of the day, it wasn’t discussed much in the grand scheme of things. Students saw an end goal and ignored anything that could disrupt it. That included tending to their mental health.
“Izuku Midoriya, please come up.”
It was deathly silent, the only noise filling the auditorium of shaky breaths was the sound of Midoriya’s seat creaking and his steady footsteps. His head was raised to look at the stage, eyes trained forward on the back of Aizawa's head as he didn’t want to collapse from a panic attack.
When Midoriya had agreed to speak at the assembly, all he saw was a great opportunity to bring awareness to the prevalent issue. Suicide rates have spiked in the past decade because of quirk discrimination that only grew worse as quirk marriages and more diverse quirks were brought to this world. Now that the time had come, he was panicking. His speech was memorized, but suddenly it was gone as if he never once thought about what he’d say.
Passing his classmates as he walked down, Midoriya could feel their hard stares, their worry, their shock, their curiosity. He could feel the Big Three’s admiration, acceptance, and brotherly/sisterly love. The teachers had known, but it didn’t stop their shock and struggle to process that Midoriya had suffered from such things. Midoriya smiled and pushed forward like the world was cupcakes and rainbows. Midoriya was unwavering when it came to pursuing a future in heroism. There was nothing that could deter him from the path where he’d smile to the world as he brought people to safety.
Midoriya finally turned to face the crowd and lifted his gaze to see that everyone’s eyes were glued to him. It wasn’t out of anger or jealousy from the attention he got. Rather, it was of pity, shock, shame, and disappointment. It just felt so wrong to see that among some of his classmates' faces. Midoriya knew that he’d be surprised if someone he was close to deals with poor mental health, but he’d smile. Midoriya would be proud that despite what a person has gone through, they took control of their life to live another day.
“As you heard before, I am Izuku Midoriya. Most people know me by my hero name, Deku. Yes, I intentionally call myself Deku, and yes, I know what it means. I’m a first-year in UA’s hero course, placed in class 1-A. I grew up with my single mother. No pets, no father. Just me and my mother in a tiny apartment. It was lonely at times, but I couldn’t complain. Being home alone were, hands down, the best moments of my life from kindergarten up to the end of junior high.”
“I was bullied, over the years it progressed and only got worse. Verbally changed to verbally and emotionally. Then it transformed into mental bullying, and the cherry on top was physical. When it comes to my experience getting bullied… it started off with harassment. A constant stream of slurs and shutdowns. It basically became this complex form of abuse, and the extent of it was disgusting. The entire school was in on it, bystanders were just as guilty… teachers were just as guilty. Parents were just as guilty.”
“The consequences of suicide baiting their peer and participating-encouraging illegal quirk usage to harm me was the least of their worries. They didn’t care about the lifelong sentences they could be charged with, with the simple voice recording I had or the literal evidence they had no shame in recording. They had a folder of documentation showing my body on their phones. They probably assumed nothing would’ve happened because nobody likes me or would even try and help.”
“It was all piling up. I was carrying this weight around. Carrying on like a soldier with every wound my body consumed from the excessive beatings and verbal assaults. Finally… I just snapped. My mind locked me away from the world as my body carried me to my evident doom.”
It was silent as Midoriya looked up to glance at people’s expressions, he refused to look toward his class. He refused to see their looks of pity and guilt any longer. He wanted to feel strong, he wanted people to stare at him in awe with impressed stares. He wanted to be known as the student who beat death and rose above the rest. Yet, he wanted them to hear every detail of what led him to his final decisions. He wanted them to get the picture, the idea of how low he was, how blurred yet crystal clear everything seemed.
“I remember the empty halls, the final lockers slamming shut as I made my way to the stairs. My feet hit the ground heavily as I couldn’t even support my malnourished body. The smell of cleaning supplies burned my nose. I always carried a container of wet wipes to clean off the ink of hatred that was written on my desk. I couldn’t breathe right. The air was going in and out of my lungs without me feeling it as my hands were squeezed shut. My knuckles were a bright white before I unclenched them to slowly open the doors leading to the roof.”
Midoriya could hear the shifting of the crowd, the tension growing as they all knew what he was going to do. They knew, but they weren’t exactly ready to hear him admit it. It was one thing to say it, but it was another to describe it, to let people know the step-by-step process.
Midoriya looked to where Aizawa was, someone he had found an odd comfort in. Aizawa definitely had his faults, and he definitely pushed these kids a tad too hard too fast. Hell, he made kids fight in battles that the pro heroes should’ve been the ones fighting in. It’s their job after all. Yet, Midoriya knew there was trauma Aizawa had faced. Midoriya knew Aizawa was projecting it onto the students and pushing them hard because he knew the world didn’t give breaks and he knew the world wasn’t going to fight nicely.
The strange thing about Aizawa the moment Midoriya looked at him was his face. His usual sunken eyes outlined by deep eye bags were now wide open and hyper-focused on him. His lips parted as he genuinely was caught off guard by the entirety of the situation. He may be a hero and he may be strong in more ways than one, but to know your strongest student who’s been saving people left and right physically, mentally, and verbally was the one who probably needed the most help, stung.
Toshinori was another story, he looked absolutely terrified. The situation seemed to dawn on him. The 500-paged-book dedicated to his faults with his teaching and his own incompetence as a hero outside of beating bad guys had finally finished downloading. It honestly made Midoriya want to fist-bump the air in victory. The success of his speech. The success of driving his message into the thick skulls of pro heroes. It was liberating.
“I neatly sat my bookbag down, took out the note I had written a month prior just for the occasion, and sat it underneath my nicely placed sneakers. Next thing I know I feel a strong breeze and a light feeling in my stomach and then darkness.”
Midoriya was silent before he offered a soft smile. There wasn’t one student who didn’t wear a horrified expression or a nauseous one. He wanted this to sink in. He wanted them to feel bad and scared. He wanted them to feel enraged, but he wanted them to know how beautiful things really are. He wants them to understand how privileged they are to be alive, to be where they are. He wants them to realize if he can find a way to live after giving his life up, then they can fight just as hard as well.
He spoke again, this time speaking slower, letting his voice wash over them and drown them in simplicity. The anticlimactic aftermath of dying.
“The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.”
“I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.”
“The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love.”
“Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag.”
“I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat.”
“I fell in love with my mother down at the river as she placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current.”
“With my mother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in her desk at work trying desperately to believe I still existed.”
“The morning after I killed myself, I walked the neighbor's dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.”
“The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading.”
“I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.”
“The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.”
“The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into me . I told me about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and my mother. I told me about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.”
“The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.”
The crowd was stunned, their eyes were different. Their expressions were of amazement. Some were crying, wiping their tears. Others seemed empowered, their purpose and confidence burning in them like an untamed forest fire.
Midoriya saw them. His classmates. He could feel the fear in their clenched hands and bouncing legs. He could feel the sympathy and anger in their clenched jaws and gritted teeth. He could feel the love in his search eyes and their uneven breaths of relief. He could feel their everything. He could feel the confusion, disbelief, bargaining, denial, joy, pride, and every other emotion in the book.
He could look into the eyes of Bakugo and see the twinge of guilt that flashed in his eyes. The realization that what he did affected Midoriya in more ways than he led himself to believe. Midoriya didn’t forgive him. He was still angry and hurt. Midoriya couldn’t forget, no matter how much he wanted to. Midoriya felt pleased to know the reality of what he had done finally stuck with him. Bakugo was learning.
Midoriya looked at his close friends. People he leaned on. He wanted to cry in Uraraka’s arms: the first person to be his friend without even caring about his quirk. He wanted to hug Iida, someone he’s been through a lot with, the person he was able to move past fights with and still remain the same.
Then there was Todoroki. He felt like home. A boat in the flood or whatever that sappy saying was. His natural ability to make his silence comfortable. Whenever he saw Midoriya, depending on the weather, he’d choose what side of Midoriya to walk next to due to his quirk. He may have thought he was sly but Midoriya noticed the first time it rained after the sports festival. Whenever they’d study, they’d doodle on the other’s hand as they worked, inevitably taking a nap during their session. Todoroki felt like home. A strawberry cake and sparkling water at a picnic on a bright summer day with a gentle breeze. Once broken, now sharing his half of a heart with Midoriya to make a whole.
Midoriya smiled gently at the crowd. “If I had the option to go back and do things differently… I’d never accept it.”
He noticed confusion spread on people’s faces.
Midoriya looked up at the lights above him. “It made me realize how temporary everything is. I finally realized how privileged I was to be healthy and have the ability to live. If I hadn’t hit that low… I wouldn’t be here.”
Looking down to face the crowd again, he gestured toward everyone. “You never would have seen me. You wouldn’t have heard this. You wouldn’t have been able to meet some of the most amazing people that I can’t live without.”
Taking a slow breath, Midoriya offered a timid smile. “There’s a time and place to die, but this ain’t it. Let’s all give it our best and live to give others the life they deserve. Okay?”
Slowly, one by one, people started to clap. Then it progressed into loud applause, filled with cheers and hollers. Then people rose to their feet, raising a fist to the sky as they called out.
“Plus Ultra!”
Midoriya sighed in relief, cheering out as well with a smile he never would’ve worn a year ago.
“Plus Ultra.”