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Izuku knew the consequences of failing his training. He knows that if he hesitates with a hit, he gets one twice as hard in return. He knows this and he tries so hard to avoid any mistakes,
but weapon training is the hardest to not mess up while doing it. Whether he swings the wrong way, ducks too late, or pulls back on an advance, he always messes up at some point. He messes up even more when it’s a new weapon he’s training with.
Up, down, stab, duck. Repeat.
A basic routine that is easy to fall into for Izuku. Routines seem to be the only thing his mind can focus on fully now.
Up, down, stab, duck. Repeat.
His next stab is deflected with a loud clang. He freezes. He shouldn't have frozen .
His opponent's blade slices through his shirt. Blood wasn't a new thing for Izuku.
The woman grins, "You'll have to do better than that, little Dragon."
He hated that name more than he would ever say.
Up, d- up , dodge, swing, move!
For every single cut he lands on her, she lands three on him. She was who his dad chose to train him after all. Dragon wouldn't have his already faulty son being more incompetent. "Faster!"
That causes a stumble backwards at the force she brings her own blade down upon him. The whole thing is a mess of silver and clangs from the blades swinging and slamming into each other.
Izuku pushes forwards only to be pushed right back. He carefully retreats, his own sword moving as fast as his hands can move it. He slips. He knew it would happen eventually, he was dripping too much blood for it not to. He drops one of his hands to catch himself, another mistake.
Usually in a spar the other wouldn't go for the kill at that point, maybe they would hesitate a moment or maybe use a faux swipe. Not his trainer. Her sword tip digs into his shoulder and drags across his chest. His scream turns into sobs when he fully hits the ground.
"Get up. That was an easy shot." She nudges him with her foot, "Get up!"
Izuku curls his body around his heavily bleeding chest. He doesn't like the feeling of that much blood falling through his fingers. "Get the fuck up! You still have a few more rounds to get this right."
A hand lands in his hair and yanks him to his feet. He stands unsteady, his sword left on the ground. The silver is red. So is hers. "Grab it. Another round."
Izuku whimpers, "Please, not again."
Another burning swipe from the sword, "Your job isn't to talk. It's to train. So fucking train."
Izuku reaches down and grasps the handle of his sword. The second it's in his hand he's forced to defend himself once more. She leans forward towards their crossed blades pressing against each other and hisses, "You'll have to move quicker than that if you want to survive. You can't slow down or you die."
She wasn't wrong. She got faster and stronger with each clang. Izuku stumbles when his vision blurs and the world spins. He doesn’t think that's supposed to happen. Izuku ends up on the ground bent over his knees gasping for breath.
His trainer kicks his side roughly and he tumbles to the side. He watches her warily. He knows he won't be able to stand back up from this. She scoffs and turns away, "Clean up the mess you made, and maybe I'll consider the doctor to come heal you."
Izuku stayed where he was and let the tears fall freely. He hated the doctor. He didn't want him to come 'take care of him'. The doctor would just hurt him more.
Izuku watches the door to the private training room swing shut. His gaze turns to the bucket and rags sitting in the corner for this situation exactly. This wasn't the first time he'd been charged with cleaning up his own mess of blood and it definitely wouldn't be the last.
He misses his mom taking care of him when he got hurt. She was always so kind about, gentle with her touches. Her rags were always soft and damp with warm water. These ones were still stained from the last time he had to do this.
He crawled over to them slowly before grabbing a few of them. He leans back against the wall. Just a small break.
He lets his eyelids slide shut but he forces himself to stay awake. He didn't want to be unconscious when the doctor came around.
"-bitch! He's passed - blood loss!"
Izuku knew that voice. He hated that voice. He was too tired to care that the voice was approaching him.