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Eri’s finally getting discharged. It’s a Saturday, which is lucky because Izuku knows full well that all the students on the raid team would have come to celebrate with Eri no matter what, even if it meant risking Aizawa-sensei’s wrath by skipping class.
Alas, Eri needs to be gradually acclimated to society, so not everyone got visiting passes for today. Izuku’s one of the few lucky ones; the nurses thought that he would be good for her because of the connection he has with Eri. He’s both honored and a little bit terrified — that means so much rests upon his shoulders. But he’ll hide that fear for Eri. There’s no use burdening her with this silly concern.
As Izuku steps into her hospital room and Eri catches sight of him, she visibly lights up. “Deku!”
And oh, Izuku would take on the entire world for this child.
He smiles back, anger momentarily forgotten. “Eri! How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing good,” she replies. “Uh, the nurse told me I was making a quick recovery, so that’s why I get to be dis- dis-” she stumbles over the word- “discharged today!”
“And someone’s already checked you over?”
A nurse pops her head in. “She’s good to go!”
“Perfect,” Izuku says to her before turning back to face Eri. “Then, I’ll be spending the day with you. Do you want to go outside?”
Her eyes widen. “To see the sky and the grasses and the flowers?”
Izuku nods. “Of course.”
Eri sits up straighter. “Yes, please.”
“Then let’s go!”
Taking her hand, he leads her out of the room and through the winding hallways. They pass rows of pictures, some obviously drawn by past occupants of the children’s hospital and some obviously donated. The difference in quality is stark, but it’s just as clear that the same kind of heart and soul was put into every work of art that decorated the wall. Izuku catches Eri staring at the drawings too, and slows as she cranes her neck to gaze at one particular piece featuring a unicorn on a rainbow.
“If you’d like, we can draw some together after we come back inside,” he suggests, and Eri nods eagerly.
They continue walking, passing offshoots of the hallway that Izuku hadn’t noticed on his way in. The light begins to grow brighter, and finally, they reach a set of glass double doors, through which days of golden sun stream in, bathing the end of the hall in a fresh, ethereal glow. He pushes one door open so Eri can go through, then follows, stepping outside as well. Eri’s already turning in all directions, taking everything, from the clouds and sky to the tulips and buttercups lining the walkway and the wide-leafed trees that shade the entire enclosed area. After a brief glance at Izuku for reassurance, she tentatively strides along one of the paved paths, stopping every now and then for a closer look at something that intrigues her.
It’s about time, Izuku thinks, for Eri to get a much-needed breath of fresh air, even if it’s in the hospital’s small flower garden. It’s been over a month since that fateful Shie Hassaikai raid, that day when Eri finally became free.
She looks up with wide eyes. “Aizawa and Lemillion came by earlier, and they said they were proud of me.”
Her smile wobbles ever so slightly; of course, she’s still having trouble processing positive sentiments directed toward her. Suddenly, Izuku is filled with rage at Overhaul and everyone else who stripped this girl of her innocence and turned her into a self-loathing resource.
He doesn’t say this, though. Instead, he kneels down until he’s eye-level with her. “I’m proud of you, too. I mean it.”
She blinks.
“You’re such a strong girl, you know that? I heard Aizawa-sensei and Nurse Mizuki mention that you were doing really well — that’s why you’re getting discharged early.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
They stride along in peaceful silence for a while longer. All seems to be well until suddenly, there’s a sharp intake of air, and Izuku glances down to see Eri whimpering slightly as she stares at something on the ground.
“What happened-” he begins to ask, but Eri’s already grabbing his hand, her eyes welling up.
“I stepped on it,” she whispers, lifting her foot to reveal a half-crushed bright orange buttercup. “I… ruined it.”
With that, she bursts into tears, dropping to her knees and curling into herself right there on the path. Izuku crouched down beside her, making his presence known in an attempt to comfort her, while staying at least three inches away, refraining from touching her.
“Eri,” he starts. What do I say? ‘It’s okay, you did nothing wrong’? These are empty reassurances. Accidentally crushing a flower- this is something that most of us don’t dwell much upon, but for her it must mean everything.
“Deku, I’m sorry, I didn’t see it, I killed it, I’m sorry!” she cries, shoulders hunching even more. “I’m- I’m- I’m a bad person and-”
“Eri, it was an accident,” Izuku tells her. “You didn’t mean to. Accidentally stepping on a flower doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. Purposefully stomping on one- well, that’s different.”
“But I hurt it,” Eri whispered, her voice shaking. “I hurt it and I messed it up and I ruined it and I’m- I’m- I’m broken and I’m a curse and everywhere I go I ruin everything!”
“Do you want a hug?” Izuku asked. Hesitatingly, Eri nodded, and Izuku wrapped his arms around her trembling form. “It’s not your fault,” he told her. “Those are all things that Overhaul said to make you feel like you weren’t a good person.”
Eri met his eyes. “But am I a good person?”
“Yes, you are,” Izuku answered emphatically. “To me, and Aizawa, and Lemillion, and a bunch of other people, you’re worth the entire world. You are a good person who shouldn’t have had to go through all the bad things you went through, and in spite of that you’re still one of the best people I know.”
Her lip wobbles. “Really?”
“You’ve kept your kindness — the fact that they couldn’t take that away from you shows how it’s such a big part of you. Even now, you care about the tiny things that other people don’t think of, like stepping on flowers. And, by the way, it’s not game over for that flower.”
“What do you mean, Deku?”
“The part that matters most is the roots, which are hidden safely inside the soil,” Izuku explains. “You only stepped on a few of the petals. As long as the roots are okay, the flower will grow and bloom again next year.”
“Really?” she looks up with shining eyes.
He holds her tighter, and she nestles into his embrace. “Really. It’s not broken and neither are you, I promise.”