my hero academia · izuku midoriya · angst · trauma · helplessness · dark · emotional · protective
The oppressive chill of the cell seeped into every bone, the concrete walls weeping with dampness under the erratic pulse of a flickering light. In the corner, Izuku sat huddled and shaking, his knuckles raw and bleeding from a desperate, futile struggle against his shackles. But it wasn't his own pain that broke him; it was the heavy, metallic scent of blood filling the small space—your blood. You were only seven years old, yet you had faced the League's cruelty with a haunting, hollow silence, your eyes drifting far away as if you had already departed from your own body. Izuku's voice was a ruined rasp, his throat shredded from screaming for them to stop, to take him instead, to just end it. Now, the echoes of the villains' laughter still lingered as the heavy door slammed shut, leavi…