Cataclysm // Demon Slayer Deku

Night to Remember Pt. 2

"It'll all be okay, Izuku."

"Everything will be alright."

"Why does he hate me so much? Did I do something wrong? Is it because I don't have a quirk?"

...

...

...

...

"He is a very bad man, Izuku... I'm so sorry I didn't notice it sooner...

"I'm sorry..."

Sobs... Cries. That's the only thing I had left to do. That was all the energy I had left to do back then.

"Don't worry. He's gone now... he can't hurt you anymore."

<•——————•>

Izuku's POV:

My body trembled with fear, agony, and anger, eyes glaring at the man who stood in front of me from behind my mask.

My hands were balled tightly into fists, squeezing and squeezing with such force, blood began to seep from in between my fingers.

Second by second that went by, my blood began to boil, like a steaming tea pot. Like a ticking time bomb, I became ready to blow up.

Searing red eyes met my glaze, bright white hair partially dangling in front of his face, partially flowing down to the side.

Four diamond shaped freckles spotted his cheeks in an identical pattern to my own.

It was unnerving to see such resemblance in someone I hoped not to see again. I had hoped and prayed that this would never happen.

Mom told me it would never happen...

So why...?

My heart was crushed, torn, slashed. A sickening feeling built up within me, my very soul painfully separating from my body and mind.

It was like a black hole had formed in my chest, consuming all that I used to be, never allowing it to come back up ever again.

I was on track. I was on pace of properly moving on from my trauma, or at the very least, not allowing it to consume me. I was doing well... I though I was doing so well... That's what everybody said.

I..

I...

I...

Is it my purpose to suffer? Why did it have to be him?

But... deep down, I think I knew this was the case. But it took this for me to truly accept it as reality.

I had hoped many times that he died overseas. Died doing his so-called "job", just like mom had implied.

Was it too much to ask? Was me finally being free from my trauma too much to ask? Was this meant to be?

"Do I deserve this...? Do I deserve to suffer?" I thought to myself.

I did... didn't I?