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The rope hung, tied into a tight knot made from sweat and blood. The room—once so bright it could lighten the atmosphere—smelled of agony and self-pity, a sickening scent that made people want to vomit and hide. There was a chair, prepared specifically for this occasion. There were letters, all lined up neatly on the desk. To friends, a brother, parents, a sister, and family. Every letter had a little amulet attached. A little green bunny with a charm. Depending on the person, the charm changed. A black cat, the moon, a speaker, a purple cat, a pastel butterfly, and some more.
In the center of it all, next to the chair, stood a figure with unruly, green curly hair.
The person’s nose had a bit of dried blood on it, probably from earlier training or something of the sorts. Their hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a while, their skin was pale from not going out much, and their arms covered with scars. The person’s pocket contained a box cutter. A simple thing made to give easier access to boxes and other things.
There were no boxes in the room.
The blade swiped across Izuku’s arm, creating a beautiful red river flowing down. The thing cut sharp and precise. So, with practiced ease, it colored anything standing in its way.
For a brief moment, he considered backing out. Because—because maybe Aizawa and Yamada would care. And maybe—just maybe, his friends would too.
And what would Eri say? How would they explain it to her? Would they say that ‘Izuku’s just resting’, or explain the truth? The hard truth about life and death. The hard truth about the world that Izuku has learned at such a young age it should be illegal. The hard truth that people don’t stay.
Because they go.
Far, far away.
Abandoning everything in their wake.
Hurting people that care.
With a sharp blade.
I’m a disgrace, Izuku mused, can’t even cut myself right. And to attempt suicide on my birthday? Pathetic.
(He deliberately ignored the voice in his head saying that he chose this date hoping that Aizawa and Yamada would find and help him.)
He sighed as he let the cutter fall to the floor; the sound a distant thud lost among the thoughts filling his head. His arms stung in a steady rhythm, like a switch being pushed on and off. Izuku’s head decided to black out for a moment, so he just stood there, watching his arms.
To think that this was all because of a diagnosis. Like a fucking disease. But maybe they were right. And maybe he—his kind is a disease. Even though there wasn't ever a case of someone becoming quirkless because of coming into contact with a person like that. Even though Aizawa ruffled his hair daily and Toshi always bumped their knees and Yamada made sure to put his hand on Izuku’s shoulder and Eri loved playing with his hair and—
His classmates made sure Izuku knew he didn't fit in. The teachers did too. And the people around. And the animals. And the plants. And the little boy he met in a convenience store. And his neighbours. And the system. And the government. And the HPSC. And the ones with powerful quirks. And the ones with ‘weak’ quirks. And the people on the internet. And the doctors. And the superiors. And the nbature. And everything that could. And everything that couldn’t. And everyone. And everyone. And everyone. And EVERYONE. And EVERYONE. And EVERYONE. And EVERYONE. And EVERYONE. AND EVERYONE. AND EVERYONE. AND EVERYONE. AND EVERY—
To be honest, Izuku thought that it would be different. Some far, far away voice locked in the deepest corners in the back of his mind would even say that he hoped it would be different. A voice locked even deeper would say that he deliberately left the door unlocked.
Maybe he thought that Aizawa would burst through the door and bundle him up in his arms. He’d lead them to the empty couch smelling of wood and fur from their cats. They’d fall asleep like that, holding each other close even though only one of them was supposed to disappear.
Maybe he thought that Hitoshi would knock, a gentle thing usually done whenever he needed help with math. He’d find Izuku, notice the rope shining with pity, and silently hug him as if he’d already left. He would help Izuku clean up and then suggest watching a movie or something of the sorts.
Maybe he thought his friends would suddenly decide to text him. Uraraka would invite him to hang out, Kaminari would offer to play a game, Jiro would ask about Izuku’s favourite songs and bands, Sato would ask for baking advice and Aoyama would ask about the best color to wear with his shoes. They’d distract him, if just for a while, and maybe he’d forget all about his little plan.
But none of that happened. And Izuku is alone. Alone in his shameful little room wiith a few hero posters. Alone with nothing but himself. His thoughts. His mind. His head. His memories. And he wonders if this is true. And he wonders and wonders and wonders and he’s exhausted himself by just thinking of the concept of life.
Because he’s never really felt there. At least, not after his diagnosis. He felt alien, like an outcast. A person whose soul was ripped out and replaced with another one. But the new one didn’t fit. And it never would have. For souls are fragile things. They’re like puzzle pieces that have to fall into place. And if they don’t…
Izuku snaps back into reality, taking a look around. Everything is still the same, if not a little blurry. His head feels heavy, his muscles sore. He stumbles a little but is quick to correct himself.
With a final, shaky breath, he steps onto the chair. The taller perspective making him look around the room one last time, zeroing in on the letters firmly placed on the desk. Each word carefully picked out—if they’d go through his trash, they’d see all the unfinished ones he threw out or the ones that didn’t sound right. Each charm a memory, and each seal glued shut with a glue from his drawer.
Izuku grabs the rope with two hands, one of which is bloody, stabilizing it and making sure it’s tied correctly. The annoying voice in his head begs for it to break or snap under his weight, but Izuku just ignores it, not caring enough to deal with it.
With a final breath, he slips the rope around his neck.
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Eri hums as she sits in the car with her parents. They’ve just picked her up, and now they are going to go pick up Toshi and—uh…
“Dad?” she asks, and continues when she hears the low hum implying that Shouta is listening, “When we pick Toshi up from tutoring, are we going home?”
“Kinda!” Hizashi answers instead of Shouta, turning around in his seat to look at her, “But first we’re going to a bakery to pick up the cake for Izu’s birthday!”
Eri nods her head. She’s excited because she helped with picking the cake out. It’s gonna be green with dark blue accents. There are gonna be letters saying ‘Happy Birthday Izuku!’ written in black. Hitoshi also said that Izuku would want a cat figure on top, but Eri isn’t sure if he said that just so he’d be able to fit Puffer in.
She stared out the window in thought, ignoring the muffled sounds of the radio. Eri isn’t sure if anyone else noticed, but Izuku has been really quiet lately. Like—not the ‘I need space’ quiet that Dad and Pa taught her to respect, but the…
The distant quiet. The kind of quiet she was when she first came into the family. The kind of quiet Dad still struggles with on days when he remembers a particularly bad memory of Oboro. The kind of quiet that made Pa stay in bed for a whole day, not even coming out for dinner. The kind of quiet Hitoshi said is a really bad kind of quiet, because it can lead to some bad things—though he didn’t specify what exactly.
And Eri was worried. But maybe she’s just—ov-overt—? O-ver-think-ing. Over-thinking. Hitoshi taught her that word but she still sometimes struggles with it. He said it means thinking too much about things that probably aren’t big. And that the brain is just a meanie who wants Eri to think bad things when they aren’t bad and she really doesn't like it and it annoys her and—
“Eri, hon? You okay back there?” Hizashi asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. She realised her brain was currently being a meanie and making her o-ver-think.
“Mhmm,, I’m fine. My brain is just mean,” she huffed out, pouting and crossing her arms. Pa smiled slightly, a comforting gesture, and pointed to the window. Eri realised that they’ve actually arrived at the place that Hitoshi tutors at. She immediately brightened, happy to see her brother walking next to Dad, seeming to be in some kind of conversation.
“---and Watanabe made so much progress today! I helped her with—” Toshi continued when he and Dad slid into their seats, “---with math. Nakamura also did great. He solved the equations I’ve given him really fast. I think he’s been practicing,”
Toshi and Dad continued talking, but Eri wasn’t really interested in the conversation. She opted for looking out the window until they arrive at the bakery. Thankfully, the ride wasn’t long—just a few kilometers from the school. Soon enough, the four of them were out of the car and walking into the cozy looking bakery.
A short woman stood behind the register, her blonde hair reaching just below her shoulders. She smiled when she noticed them walking in and clicked something on the screen, “Hello! How can I help you today?” she asked.
Her and Pa started exchanging some words—but Eri wasn’t listening. Her focus was piqued on the woman’s little pin with a butterfly on her shirt. Eri loves butterflies and basically every bug there is. She debated telling her, and after a tough fight with her brain, she got the courage to speak.
“Uh—Miss?” she started, interrupting Pa, “I-I want to say that I think your pin looks really cool. I–uh–I like butterflies,” she mumbled.
The woman’s gaze snapped to her in an instant, eyes immediately softening, “Thank you! My friend—Touya made it for me. Hold up,, I think I…” she reached behind the counter, crouching a little. When she straightened, she was holding a similar pin, but the butterfly was a hot pink and not purple.
“Here you go!” she extended her hand, offering the little piece of accessory.
“Are you sure?” Dad butted in, “We wouldn't want to trouble you,”
The girl sighed jokingly, “Seriously. I have a lot. Come on—uh,, what’s your name, sweetie?”
Eri smiled, waving her hand in a clumsy manner of greeting, “I’m Eri!” she exclaimed happily, smiling as if she just made a best friend.
The woman nodded just as enthusiastically, “That’s a lovely name, Eri! I’m Himiko Toga. You can call me Himiko, since I can call you Eri,” The wo—Himiko grinned, extending the pin even further towards Eri.
She took it with careful fingers, as if it were a fragile thing that could be broken with the slightest breeze. Himiko smiled once more and went back to her conversation with Eri’s parents, clicking something on her tablet.
Eri was ecstatic. She was smiling as if Santa just came through the door and gave her all the presents in the world. She—she was really, really happy. And she loved butterflies! They were her favourite animals. Even though some—namely Bakugo—could say that these animals are fragile and weak, Eri still lit up at the mere mention of them.
After all, Izuku said that you have to embrace what you love and never let it go, because if you do, you’ll regret it afterwards.
And these words impacted Eri—in a good way. But she still didn’t know why exactly. l
When she snapped out of her thoughts, she noticed Dad carrying a light blue box with little white dots on it. He noticed her staring and winked, gesturing towards the car with his head. She smiled and went to grab Hitoshi’s hand to drag him with her. Her brother ruffled her hair and led the way there, Dad and Pa following close behind. She hummed happily when they reached the car, excited to get home to Izuku.
They took off, but not even a full five minutes into the ride, Pa spoke up about needing to go to the post office. Dad, on the other hand, insisted on not making Izuku wait so long, as they were already running behind on time. Toshi came up with a compromise to drop Pa off at the post office and drive back to get started on the party. They wouldn’t reveal the cake until Pa got home by himself so that they could all eat it at the same time.
Somewhere, far, far away, a little voice whispered that this is a bad idea. Eri ignored it. She didn’t think it meant something.
(Oh, was she wrong.)
So they went. And Dad dropped Pa off at the office with a quick kiss and a ‘get home soon’. When they took off towards their house, Eri looked out the window, noticing that the clouds were gaining a grey-ish color.
Huh. She doesn’t remember the weather girl mentioning it would rain.
Oh well.
There are some passerbys walking through the streets. Each one has their own story to tell. And each one ends in a different way. Some are surrounded by good people, and some by bad. Some are the bad people. But Eri will never know. Because she’s just six. And by the time she’s at least fifteen, most if not all of the things happening now will be over. Criminals handcuffed. Cases solved. Meals eaten. Events celebrated. All of it.
She notices that they’re nearing their home and visibly brightens up. She likes being in the car, but she missed Izuku the whole day. Hitoshi unbuckles her when they pull up to the driveway. She pulls the door open and springs out of the car, running up the three stairs to their home.
Dad hands Toshi the keys, telling him to check whether Izuku is downstairs. He tells Eri not to go in yet. She’s a little bummed, but recovers when her brother quickly returns, saying that Izuku is not, in fact, downstairs. Dad then tells him to help with carrying the cake to the kitchen.
Eri walks behind the duo, locking the door behind her in the process. They turn towards the kitchen and place the cake in one of the empty cupboards.
“Eri, honey?” Dad says as he crouches down to be on eye level with her, “Could you go grab Izuku here? He’ll help us decorate,”
Eri nods enthusiastically, turning towards the stairs. She hears Dad and Toshi talking about some balloons, but all her attention is dedicated to her brother’s bedroom. She walks—no. Sprints upstairs. Izuku’s room is on the far end of the hallway.
When she’s in front of the door, she knocks, because Pa taught her to always respect privacy. She doesn’t hear an answer of ‘come in’or anything of the sorts, but that might’ve been just because Izu didn’t hear her.
“Izukuuu!!” she shouts, pulling her mouth to the door to make sure that the sound got through the wood, “Izuku! Dad and Toshi are home! Come onnnn! Help us decorate!”
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..?
Eh.
“Izuku?” she says, quieter now, “I-uh—I’m coming in!”
She opens the door, but not fully. Just to warn her brother that she’s about to step inside if he’s changing or anything.
The smell of blood hits her like a hurricane.
Though it’s not…. It’s not that distinct; it’s still there. And Eri can smell it. And it’s in her nostrils. And it’s in the air. And she’s breathing it in. And—
She gags, but thankfully, nothing comes out. “Dad! I-I think—” she calls out, but stops when she fully opens the door.
Because
there
is
Izuku.
…
Hanging
on
a
rope.
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“Eri?! Honey what’s wrong?”
“Hey! Why are you standing here in front of th—”
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“Will this be all?” the cashier asks. He looks—tired. Not that Hizashi can really blame him. The weather today is unpredictable and there are some coats visible behind the counter.
He nods, “Yes, thank you,” he picks up his bag and heads for the exit. He was at the post office, and since he just needed a single envelope, he finished quickly and decided to go to the nearest convenience store. He bought some drinks, since he and Sho forgot to buy them when they were originally going shopping. A party isn’t a party without colorful drinks—as Obo—his late friend used to say.
Hizashi walked out of the store with a bigger-than-usual bag containing some sodas and juices. All he needed to do now was get home and celebrate! Rockin’ awesome.
As he walked, he let his thoughts occupy him. Izuku was turning sixteen today! His little boy was all grown up now. Well. Not that little. He’s grown and matured really much since he and Shouta adopted him.
Hizashi still remembers when they found him. All beaten down and spotting a bloody nose. Alone under a bridge trying to wrap his arm. Scared and cold and malnourished. Bones showing through the skin. The boy was eleven, abandoned by his father and then his mom. Bullied by his classmates. Hated by society.
And yet he trusted them. Not fully, at least not at first. But enough to start the case. Enough to take him under their wing. Enough to let them know that he trusts them. And they are never gonna break that trust.
They introduced him to Hitoshi—their other son. The boys have taken a liking to each other immediately. Hizashi and Shouta were really relieved that they didn’t need to sign them up for some kind of family therapy. Though they still went separately.
Truth is, every person in their family had some kind of past trauma. Shouta being told his quirk is villainous, resulting in being bullied and neglected. The story’s similar with Hizashi and Hitoshi; only a few details changing.
They’ve all had their bad days in the past. Izuku would shut off, Shouta would disassociate, Hitoshi would not dare come out of his room, and Hizashi would drown himself with work. But they all helped each other.
And then Eri came in.
Izuku met her when he was going to a convenience store. She came from around the corner and slammed into his legs—at least that’s how Izuku described it. Eri said something like ‘please help me…’, and Izuku’s heart is obviously too big to let a kid go back to wherever they came from in a situation like this.
He ended up in a police station after being chased by two yakuzas—luckily not the higher-ups—, sitting in a plastic chair with Eri perched on his hip, silently crying. Shouta and Hizashi arrived as soon as they could, probably breaking a few laws along the way. They walked in on Izuku hugging the girl as if she would disappear at any moment—which, she could’ve—, whispering soothing words into her ear. At that moment, they knew two things. One; Izuku is a fucking angel and the world doesn’t deserve him. And two; their family was about to gain a member.
But enough about that.
Hizashi snapped out of his thoughts. He noticed that he was just a few blocks away from their home—which, finally. He picked up the pace and took his phone out, intending to text Nemuri about whether she’ll be late.
And maybe.
Maybe if he didn’t take his phone out.
If he concentrated on his surroundings.
Maybe he would've noticed the car.
But he didn’t.
And he’ll never get the chance to again.
Because it hit him.
And all was black
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Nemuri locked the door, and was on her way to celebrate little Izuku’s birthday!
Ah, how the time goes.
She remembers when she was just ‘Miss Kayama’, but now?
Izuku would rather die than call her that.
Ha.
She walked towards her car. Before starting it, she took her phone out, expecting to see a message from Hizashi or Shouta about whether she’ll make it in time. With her… sense of time, she supposed it was deserved, though she’d never be late to her nephew’s birthday party. Come on! She’d have to be a real prick.
Her phone showed nothing but the notification about some weather changes, which didn’t really pique her interest. She sighed and turned it off. No need to worry about things like this. They’re probably just busy with decorating or eating or whatever else they’re doing.
She finally took off towards the Yamazawa household, as she and Tensei liked to call it. The drive thankfully won’t be long.
As Nemuri got closer—almost there, she started noticing… cars. Police cars. Ambulances. That was unusual. Especially for this neighbourhood. It was specifically dedicated mostly to heroes or hero families, sometimes maybe people that were in witness protection. For something to happen here was really unheard of.
She reached her best friends’ house. It was quite obvious by now that all the commotion was caused by the family, or at least something connected to them. She quickly parked her car, though it wasn’t as close as she’d like it to be due to the other cars.
Nemuri got out and immediately noticed Hitoshi and Eri sitting on the bench in front of the house. When she walked closer, she noticed their expressions.
They were…
Scared. Terrified. Afraid. Everything that described frightenedness.
Eri was perched on Hitoshi’s hip, sobbing quietly. Her eyes were wide and pupils small. She… wasn’t looking anywhere. Her gaze lingered on the pavement, but remained unfocused. It was as if something just took her soul out, shredded it, and put it back the wrong side out.
Hitoshi wasn’t much better. He was holding Eri, but it was a weak grip, bringing barely any comfort. His eyes, once so full of life and sarcasm, were dulled, also unfocused. He was crying, though not sobbing. It was just the tears flowing down his cheeks and spilling onto his lap.
Nemuri…
She didn’t know what happened, but she knew it was bad.
She hasn’t seen them like this since they came into her family; even still, it wasn’t as bad as this, which—
It says something.
Nemuri started walking towards the duo, purposefully making her footsteps louder as not to scare them. Hitoshi noticed her first, the fog in his eyes clearing just the slightest bit. Nemuri crouched down in front of them.
“Toshi?” she started, “Is—What happened? Is everyone alright?”
Those words didn’t seem to be the best choice, as Hitoshi started crying even harder, his expression scrunching up. Eri still didn’t notice her. Nemuri guessed she was probably dissociating.
“I-I..” Hitoshi tried, but a sob broke him off. As much as Nemuri wanted to know what happened, she wouldn’t get anything out of her nephew in that state, so she decided to just comfort him.
She sat down at the bench next to Hitoshi, pulling him into a hug along with Eri.
She idly noted that she hasn’t seen Izuku, Shouta or Hizashi yet.
Hitoshi pressed his face into her shoulder. She felt the tears through the fabric, but didn’t comment on it. She instead opted to smooth down Hitoshi’s hair, doing the same with Eri.
She kept murmuring sweet nothings. It’s hard to comfort someone when you don’t know why they’re upset.Eri was still in her bubble, and it didn’t seem like she would come out of it soon. Hitoshi was crying, and the tears weren’t planning to stop for at least the next half hour; though Nemuri would bet more.
After a few minutes, she noticed Shouta walking out of the house, looking as if he aged twenty years. He looked… wrecked. His hair was tangled as if he were pulling at it. His clothes, not hero suit, were wrinkled, and he didn’t have his capture weapon on.
Though that wasn’t the most shocking part.
Because Shouta Aizawa was crying.
And the only time Nemuri has seen him cry was when Oboro died.
Shit.
His eyes were rimmed red. Tears splashing down his cheeks in a lazy rhythm. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet. Reserved. Shouta always tried to be the tough one; always letting people rely on him. He,, didn’t cry often. If he was sad, he distracted himself or stayed alone. If he was in a really good mood, he’d smile with all teeth bared.
But he never cried.
And that’s how Nemuri knew it was bad.
Shouta didn’t notice her at first. He was talking with someone who looked to be from the police. A tall man with a pitying look on his face. Nemuri, still not knowing what was going on, tried to hear some, or even read mouths, but she wasn’t the best at that. The man gave Shouta a thin stack of paper, saying something for a second and then walking away to one of the police cars.
It was then that Shouta noticed her.
His eyes widened slightly as if he just remembered about her existence. He was still crying, but unlike most times, he didn’t try to scrub his face. He walked towards her in slow, steady footsteps. Her brows furrowed.
“Shouta…” a pause, “What happened?” she asked, her voice even.
Shouta tried to take a deep breath, but choked on a sob. He sat down next to her on the bench, where she was still holding Hitoshi and Eri. Nemuri switched to holding them in a side-hug so that she could look at Shouta without having to twist her neck too much.
The man put his head into his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees, “It’s—” a deep breath, “Izuku,” he choked the name out as if it was something forbidden
“Izuku?” Nemuri questioned, “Did something happen to him? Wha—What’s going on, Shouta,"
Shouta peeked one eye out to look at her, still not fully removing his face from his hands. It was red and tears were spilling like crazy.
“He—It—” a pause, “He’s…—I can’t. I’m sorry, Nemuri—I just—”
Nemuri slid her hand around Shouta’s shoulders, similar to Hitoshi. She was getting nervous. What could have possibly happened to Izuku on his birthday?
Shouta, instead of explaining further, gave her the papers that the police man had given him, “Read those,” he said, putting his head back into place.
And so she did.
Nemuri didn’t need to read long to understand what happened.
Not long after, the whole family—except two—-was crying.
Speaking of…
“Whe—Where is Hizashi?” she asked, hiccuping.
Shouta shook his head, “I don’t know, Nem. He—He went to the post office. And—” a breath, “He—He didn’t return. I—He should be here by now. I tried calling him, but— Nemuri, where is he?” there was a desperation in his voice, something deep.
Fuck. If Hizashi isn’t here, then… It’s going to break him. Explaining that he was late when…
“Shouta..”
Suddenly, Shouta’s phone rang out. The man looked as if it had taken him all of his willpower to take that device out. When he saw the caller ID, he straightened immediately.
“Hello? Is this Aizawa Shouta speaking?” the voice said, sounding like a man around his thirties.
“Yes,” A deep breath, “How—Who is this?”
Some shuffling,”I’m doctor Suzuki. Are you alone? In a comfortable place?”
Nemuri and Shouta both stiffened. Hitoshi curled into himself, “Yes. What—What’s the issue, doctor?”
More shuffling, “You’re listed as Yadama Hizashi’s emergency contact, correct?”
The doctor probably knew the answer. He must’ve, or else it would be very unprofessional. Either way, Shouta nodded, “Yes. Please—I—Just tell me what’s wrong,”
“I regret to inform you, but Yamada-san has gotten into a car accident. We don’t know if he’ll make a full recovery,”
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“I can’t take this anymore,” The phone dropped onto the pavement with these words.
Nemuri, frantic and crying harder than she ever has in her life, could relate to Shouta.
Though she wasn’t prepared for the man to take off running towards the sidewalk.
“Sh—Shouta?! What are you doing?! You—Come back here! Don’t leave me alone..!”
…?
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“I’m sorry.”
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Hey, Dad.
If you are reading this, then I’m probably dead. This is my last letter to you, and I want you to know that it is not your fault. I am responsible for my own actions, and don’t want you to blame yourself. I am so, so sorry to do this to you, but I just couldn’t deal with everything anymore. I’m going to split this letter into sections—hopefully it’ll help you understand it better. If not,, I’m sorry. I tried my best.
Firstly, I want to apologize. I am so fucking sorry that someone had to witness how I died. I hope it’s you or Pa—Eri and Hitoshi might not take it that well. Though I’m sure I still hurt you. Or anyone, really—I wouldn’t wish for anyone to witness what I did to myself. I am sorry for taking my own life. I know it’s stupid and not a great solution, but—I don’t know. I just,, I’m sorry. Really. I don’t want to leave you or the family. But I also can’t see myself living past max twenty. You know the statistics for the quirkless. You know them better than anyone.
Second, I want to explain a little. Truth is, I got bullied almost every day in school in Aldera, though you already know that. I know that I’m at UA now, but the Aldera part of me will always cry out whenever someone mentions bullying. I—It’s not their fault. The kids’, I mean. The teachers encouraged it or just ignored it. Children there were raised thinking that they were doing good by… doing what they were doing. UA is great—really. It was only some people making side remarks about me, but never getting physical, so that’s good. I guess it's just—I don’t know. I’m sorry.
I also want to thank you. Thank you for being there. For rescuing me. For feeding me and giving me clothes. Thank you for taking me in, rescuing me when I was at my lowest. I still remember that night, although vividly. You helped me bandage my wounds and then asked what happened. That—It was the first time someone has shown any kind of kindness towards me. You and Pa helped me in so many ways that I don’t think I’m able to express them all. You helped me reach the best point in my whole life—when getting up from bed wasn’t just a chore and something that needed to be done, but something that I looked forward to every night. You really, really helped me get better, Dad. I love you. I love you so much and I am so sorry that I am leaving so early on.
You can notice that there is a little amulet attached to the envelope. It—I dunno. I just thought it would help you…get over it? Get over me? I—Sorry. It’s not the greatest of them all, but—uh. I think it’s cute? Yeah. It’s… nice to have something to remember someone with. Or that might be just me. Guess I won’t get to find out anytime soon…………………… Sorry. That was out of place. Anyways, it’s a black cat—you, with a green bunny—me. I—I think that’s cool.
I suppose that’s all I want to write about. For the last time, I love you, Dad. You and Pa are the best dads I could’ve ever wished for. Seriously. My biological parents are just that—biological. You are the ones that raised me—even if not for my whole life. You—I love you. I am sorry for leaving and for hurting you like this. I just—you know. So. I think this is it? Yeah. Yeah. I love you. I’m sorry. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Izuku Aizawa-Yamada