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Suffering is inevitable in life.

What causes one to suffer? Pain? A war? Depression?

There are many ways one may suffer, even if they don't know it.

Some suffer from loneliness, despite stating that it's their desire to be alone. A life is not a life when one experiences it by themselves.

Some may suffer from sadness. A loss too great to hear or push away, setting within the depths of one soul, and if left untouched or unchanged, it grows.

Some may suffer from anger. Pure untempered rage one feels towards a person, a thing, or an entire ideal. It eats at you, clawing at your body and being kind until you are consumed by it. Some say strength can be found in it, but most of the time it leads to a full grave.

Is there a way to deal with this suffering?

Push on? Forget about it? Push it back to the dark corners of your mind?

It's like a worm, only showing its body on the surface of the ground on a rainy day.

On a bad day, that suffering resurfaces, bubbling with fierce emotion to be let out. Some can let this go the right way. Therapy, talking to someone, or finding peace with it.

Some don't get the chance.

~~~~~

I jolted awake, feeling someone hit the side of my head. I look up to see the man himself, Aizawa.

"What?"

"You went out last night, did you?"

"So what?"

"With that?" He pointed to my abdomen, looking at the big, purple and yellowish bruise on my torso.

"I forgot about that..."

"Tch. Come with me."

"Where to?"

"Recovery Girl. You should've went there when we had that meeting."

"Eh, I guess I got caught up in finding the damn place..."

Aizawa looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Let me see it."

"Sure, weirdo." I lift up my shirt to reveal the bruise. Damn you Mirko and your thick ass...

"Mendoza, I think your ribs are cracked..."

"So that's what the poking was!"

"..."

What can I say? I dealt with worse.

~~~~~

I scrolled through my phone as Aizawa drove. Man, I wonder if my true past needs to still be kept a secret...

Aizawa throws a glance at me.

"What now?"

"... Profeta..."

He said with little difficulty. It wasn't exactly hard to say in Spanish I suppose.

"Yeah?"

"Is that where that whole vigilante thing came from, your desire to be a hero?"

"Who said I had a desire to be a hero?"

"That name. Sounds like it stuck for a while."

He was right, it really did. Another story though.

"Yeah, well, that didn't exactly turn out the way it did, huh?"

"Hmph..."

~~~~~

In My Steed (OC x MHA)Where stories live. Discover now