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~ Third Person P.O.V ~

Grunts emitted from the freckled male as he hauled the weighty sack of freshly picked potatoes. The summer sun beating down on his elfin frame, beads of sweat pooling at the roots of his curls and gliding down his blush dusted cheeks and nose. His shoes, now tainted, with the grains of dirt he had been slaving away through all day. Alas, the Arizona sun was as unforgiving as life itself- feeling the overwhelming need to establish his time on earth a living hell. 

Lifting the drown bag over his shoulder he begins his trek back to where he, his mother, grandmother, and little sister were living. Back hunched over, and knees quivering as he walked- his muscles aching dreadfully.

"Deku!" 

Ears perking up, Izuku snaps his head up in the direction of the shrill voice- only to be met face to face with his best friend; Ochaco Uraraka. Her brunette hair bunched up into a tight bun, a brown woven basket in her hands filled to the brim with vegetables. And a floral dress adorning her plum features.

Izuku goes rigid, facial features scrunching at an angled measure as he drinks her in. Lips pressed into a thin line as his mind slowly tried to piece words together so the two aren't just standing there. 

"Is that new?" Izuku asked sharply, inclining his head towards the dress as the two began walking.

"Mhm, it took a while but Mama finally pieced enough fabric together to sew it for me!" She chirped, "Speaking of Mama's-- how's yours doing? Did the fever go down yet?"

The freckled male drank in a wavering breath of humid air, his eyes fluttering open and shut a few times. "No. She's got a cough now, we're afraid it might be Yellow Fever." He said, his voice going bleak and monotone.

"Oh," Uraraks tutted, "Poor thing, well-- I'll see if I have enough to bring her some soup for supper later 'kay?"

"Mmm, thanks Ura,"

"Of course!" The brunette giggled.

If Izuku were being candid, which he really wanted to be at a moment like this-- he would have told his best friend to kindly 'piss off'. Predominantly due to the fact that her chipper mood was something he envied, don't get him wrong, he loved her dearly but . . . How can one be happy at times like this?

Uraraka's voice, which was once the boy's soul focus, had now become buzzed background noise-- disappearing in the sea of voices around them. Emerald eyes looming in the scenery, which appeared to be indistinguishable as the years dragged on. Everyone doing the same daily tasks for the past two years, nobody daring to disobey the soldiers that lurked in every corner. Prowling with intense, cold eyes, waiting for the tiniest of slip-ups from the Japanese-American's.

The wired fences enclosing around the camp a diurnal reminder of what they wanted yet could never have-- not after this. Freedom. It was so close within reach of all of them, fingertips barely brushing across it only for them to be ripped back into the dark descends of imprisonment. America was supposed to be the land of the free and home of the brave, right? Wrong. . . It's all a load of bullshit in Izuku's opinion.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Uraraka pouted, bumping her hip into his-- knocking him away from his people watching. 

"Hm? Oh, no, sorry-- what were you saying Ura?" Izuku asked, his grip on the sack turning iron as a faint hue of rose dusted his freckles. 

Heaving a groan, Uraraka narrows her eyes into slits seeing as though it'll be the only thing that will keep her eye-rolling at bay. "I was saying," She enunciates, "I'm not busy after supper if you're up for it maybe we could take a night stroll?"

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