I was deep in thought on my way to school—thinking only of a hero fight I had witnessed previously. I loved watching the heroes. Fights, interviews, patrolling: I loved it all. The way the heroes put their lives on the line—solely for the purpose of helping others—made my heart flutter. I wanted nothing more than to help others; therefore, I wanted nothing more than to become a hero.

I was so lost in thought, that I didn't hear my sister, Izumi, taunting me. I was abruptly pulled from my optimism by an intense pain I felt all throughout my back. Looking up, I saw my twin sister, Izumi, and my past friend, Todoroki, standing above me.

Todoroki had knocked me into a nearby locker while Izumi stood there and proceeded to crouch down to where I sat—propped up against a locker. As Todoroki's right hand contacted my skin, I felt a burning sensation.

His ice was so cold that it burned.

I whimpered as Izumi began lecturing me about 'the consequences of ignoring her' or something, but her voice was drowned out by the pain in my arm.

As soon as the bell rang, they walked off; meanwhile, I sat on the floor, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the soft sobs from escaping my lips. I couldn't care less about classes on days like these—much to my permanent record's dismay—so I ran to the bathroom. Once I got there, I made sure nobody was around and cried. I didn't know how long I spent bawling my eyes out and clutching my hurt wrist, but what I did know was that I was sad. Sad that this was my life; sad that I was always subjected to this treatment, and sad that there was nothing I could do about it.

When I felt a little better, I stood up, ran my wrist under boiling, hot water, wrapped it in spare gauze I had found in the emergency first-aid kit on the wall of the bathroom, and then went to my second period.

Arriving late, I took my seat. It was unusual for me to walk into class as late as I did, so I got a lot of stares from my peers—especially from Izumi. I felt my vision swirling and my throat closing due to the amount of judgmental, mocking eyes that had been glued to my figure as my body floated towards my desk—though I ignored it fully and tried to focus on my teacher's words. This feeling was usual for me, though. It felt as if my head were underwater, but I could still breathe. It felt as if I were being choked, but nobody's hands were around my neck, nor was there any tight cloth restricting my breathing. It felt as if I were dying, but never had the satisfaction of silent and painless eternity.

As we were talking about our futures, and what we wanted to make of our lives, I was having trouble seeing and breathing. Those feelings had only worsened when I felt an explosion hit my desk, and my body being blasted backward.

My back collided with the wall, right where my past encounter with a locker had left its mark. I looked up to see none-other-than Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, and my sister, Izumi—looking menacing as ever—towering over my small, defenseless form. I sat helplessly, against the wall, waiting, praying, that someone—anyone—would step in and help me, but no one did.

No one ever did anything to help me.

All anyone ever did was laugh at me—which would be funnily ironic, if it weren't so disappointing.

Why me?

Why was it always me?

After a while, the teacher stopped the harassment from my peers, and continued the lesson; meanwhile, I sat on the floor, too tired to move. Too tired to bounce back up and smile as if nothing were going wrong in the world as of right now. Too tired to pick myself up and dust myself off—with words of self-encouragement, like: 'It's okay', or 'You'll be okay'.

Why couldn't I just be okay?

After I froze Izuku's arm, he didn't show up to class. It was really unlike him to be late, let alone ditch class. I don't really know when it happened, but over the years, I grew numb to the pain in my heart when I saw the fear in his eyes. The look of defeat he often wore as he stumbled throughout the halls, the sadness that flickered in his eyes as he watched us—the people who he had seen as his most cherished friends just several years ago—hurt him as we often would. I used to be mortified whenever I saw it. Somewhere, over the countless years, though, I grew numb to the look; although, I'm shocked Izumi has been allowing this to get so out of hand.

It had never been as bad as it was recently.

I think it has something to do with the U.A. entrance exams being so close now. We were starting our final year of Junior High, and then, in just 10 months, would be taking the U.A. entrance exam. The point has always been to get his sights off of U.A.—or heroics in general—but to our knowledge, nothing had changed, yet. He was more determined than ever to become a hero in recent days. And honestly, I didn't think anything anyone did anymore would change that, but we still wanted to try.

A lot of people at our school found what we were doing to him disgusting—although they'd never stand up to us, or for him—but they just didn't understand that what we did wasn't nearly as bad as what would happen to him the second he stood up to a villain whose power he just couldn't take. Izuku had a good heart, and would give his life up in a beat of it, but out there, that just wouldn't be enough. People would still get hurt, or die, even if he sacrificed himself, because unlike bullies at school, villains are much more heartless, and much less remorseful. They won't give up after one person is dead, or ten, or twenty, or a hundred. They're monsters. And he doesn't understand that being good inside just isn't good enough out there.

I knew it wasn't right, but talking to him, explaining it over and over again, kindly and not-so-kindly just never worked. All I wanted him to understand was that if he couldn't even stand up to one kid, younger than him, using their quirk at the lowest possible percentage, he wouldn't stand a chance against an actual villain.

Self-sacrifice is a good quality to have in a hero, but it's not always helpful.

Around ten minutes into our second period, Izuku slowly walked into class. We were talking about our futures. Of course, my friends and I had all applied to U.A Highschool—the most pristine school in Japan. Bakugou went on one of his rants about 'us being the only three students good enough to become heroes' and whatnot, until, that is, the teacher mentioned Izuku applying as well.

Izumi's face drained of all life, as well as my own. All the effort we had gone through, all the trouble of making Izuku give up on his stupid and dangerous dream.

Wasted.

Deep down I always knew he'd never step down, but I'd hoped that maybe for once in his life, he'd try to gain some perspective and think beyond what he felt was right to what is more efficient and practical.

Because what's noble isn't always what's useful.

After the last bell rang, I felt myself release a breath I hadn't even known I'd been keeping in.

Finally, I could return home, and hide out in my room until tomorrow.

Alone.

I was packing my notebook in my bag when I felt it being torn away from my light grip.

Bakugou.

Looking up, I had just enough time to watch him destroy it. He was blabbering non-sensical things about me being 'too much of a weakling to be a hero' and whatnot. That I 'shouldn't apply to U.A'. The worst part of all of it was that I took it.

I took their sharp words.

I took their harsh scoffs.

I took their scowls; profanities; mocking; I took everything.

And I hated it.

Bakugou was leaving with Todoroki and Izumi when out of nowhere he began to speak.

"You want to be a hero so bad? I've got a time-saving idea for you." Izumi and Shoto looked just as surprised as I did as his next words flew out. "If you think you'll have a quirk in your next life, go take a swan dive off the roof!!"

My brain went numb, my vision swirled, and my throat was collapsing in on itself as what he said registered in me. I felt as if I were being waterboarded.

Forced to give up my dreams or be drowned.

I was being drowned.

As Bakugou, Shoto and my sister walked out, I felt this ringing in my ears. A constant ringing. One that I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I pounded my ears in. I couldn't hear them laughing. I couldn't hear myself drowning as I cried a river of tears. I couldn't hear my world as it caved in on itself, but I sure as hell could see it. I felt like I was underwater.

Suffocating.

I didn't even realize I had left the school until I got to a tunnel. I felt so hurt. His words cut through my soul. I watched my dreams crumble under the weight of all the torment. All the neglect. All the abuse. I felt hurt and alone.

Why me?

Lost in thought, I was, yet again, brought back to reality by a feeling of suffocation. Though, this time, it felt more real. I then heard the low voice of a slimy thing.

A villain.

I clawed and clawed for freedom, for air, for help, but nothing I did worked, and no matter how much time went by, no one was around. I continued scratching away at the goo,

Until...

I gave up.