#marksman.doc

Kazuto walks quickly for his destination. The trip was easy, although mind-numbing. He tends to be away in his own world when it comes to trips. The bus was, in a way, a escape mechanism. Kazuto prefers that way.

He hugs the game under his arm as he approaches the house. The first thing he notices is that the house looks like a garden. Full of green, sun light, and all in all, a natural vibe that Kazuto can't quite place in his memories.

He thinks it has to do with his memories, but he's not sure if he can remember something that looks or feels like this. Perhaps it's a dream? A fantasy?

He steps forward, and realizes that, indeed, it's not a fantasy. His shoulders sag, free from the tension he was putting on them.

Once he's in front of the door, he knocks thrice to make sure that the people inside listen and know that he's here. Although, he wouldn't want to bother them too much...

He remembers. Of course he had to do it!

He brings his phone out, and types a message. Kaminari deserves to know that he arrived, even if he's not here to do it.

He almost spilled it out. The message is sitting in his drafts.

"I'm sorry, Mr. All Might. This... I was approached by Mystery and they asked me to look for information. I had no other option..."

Even though he has. He always has but he's so blind he doesn't see it. He wants to be pure, perfect, and in his eyes, he's not. He'll never be. He fails, like everyone else. This ideal hurts, but Kazuto just presses on. He knows the best comes later.

All Might has good intentions. He knows, he recalls. But what he did... was wrong. On many levels. He wonders how can he repair everything that's broken and he cries because Hawks spoke to him and he's so nervous because he's an idiot and Monoma is angry or disappointed at him and he doesn't know what to do and he wants to be back with his dad or with anyone who's willing to accept this utterly broken kid who doesn't and won't think that he's good enough to be something.

He closes his eyes, and he hopes for a better day.

But his phone won't leave him alone. It stares. Back at him. His eyes are drawn to it. He needs to tell them. That everything is going fine. An update of his current status.

He presses some keys, and types a message for Mystery.

Then, he leaves, putting on a smile, pretending, acting.

There are rumors saying that Marksman can jump a whole building. Kazuto doesn't have the heart to tell them that they're right, because that means excitement from his fans.

And what happened that time, that was a one-time affair.

He stays on a rooftop, looking at the streets. Nothing out of the ordinary. People minding their business, having fun, enjoying life, going to their homes, having sexual affairs outside (he's not one to judge, he already went through that phase. Kazuto averts his gaze). Marksman stays alert for any out of place sounds, a gun being shot, a place where something's off.

He wonders what could have happened if he truly gave up, when he was young. He wonders what could have happened if Mystery had their claws over him, their presence being a shadow looming on top of his existence. Like his mother.

He wasn't happier because of Mystery, and he was sure. Marksman is his true path, since the beginning. Even if he struggled, those things... are the ones he wants to protect. Happiness, peace, and silence. The status quo had to be protected. He helps.

Kazuto keeps typing. He goes again, writing an essay. That's his extracurricular assignment. Why do I deserve to be in the Heroics Course? He asks himself that question, many times he just comes up with the same answer, but he never writes it.

Just saying that he wants to help people is simplistic, just for setting an example for people like him... idealistic. Saying that he could be a hero because of attention is childish, too. And wrong. Every reason he comes up with is wrong. In a way or another.

He stops writing. His frown deepens, and Kazuto throws away everything on his desk and screams. The sounds are heard somewhere, and it's likely that he doesn't care.

Kazuto only steps back, and sits down on his bed.

He has tried many times and the essay is always rejected. Maybe the teachers know the truth and he doesn't. Maybe they're sparing him from a dead end. Maybe they're just helping him in secret ways. Maybe they're busy and can't review it and return any essays because it's hard to review anything and help others a there's only 24 hours a day and he knows people need to sleep and they deserve it—

Kazuto goes to sleep. His head is just messing with him.

April.

Kazuto struggles to get off the bed. The reasons are unknown. His body reacts as if it had lag. Like a WiFi connection in a fighting game. Too much delay, too little reaction. He wakes up empty, like always.

When he hears that Shinsou might enter Heroics, he smiles. He's glad for him, the kid deserves it. Shinsou works hard, and Kazuto recognizes that. But... there's still a voice inside him that tells him bad things. Things he would rather forget.

("Maybe you're just too pushy, too annoying, to unrealistic, too idealistic, too childish...")

("Heroics is hard, you knew that since the beginning...")

("Maybe there was just one spot, and he took it.")

("Maybe...

He stole your spot, and there could only be one.")

He closes his eyes. He hopes he never goes to listen to that voice. It's angry, tired. Just like him.

Kazuto never argues against that voice, because he doesn't have a good reason to avoid it. He just hopes, hopes that he never listens to its suggestions, falls to its traps.

But hope is fleeting, Kazuto.

May.

Kazuto stays behind in class. Prismarine might explain something, but Kazuto doesn't listen. If she doesn't note anything weird with him, it's because Kazuto won't let her know.

Her eyes... Kazuto shudders at the thought of having to face her, or any of the teachers, for that matter. He thinks they could mock him for his foolishness. He thinks they could build him up, only to make him crash and burn like prodigies did.

He always gave up when it came to speaking to Aizawa because of that. The man is too analytical. Kazuto feels like a lab rat instead of a teenager when he even managed to spare a look in his general direction. Maybe he is like that. Maybe Kazuto is just too weak to even try being a hero. Maybe his one-track mind is just too dangerous to deal with. Maybe he's broken and they can see it.

Maybe it's written in everyone's faces that he's useless and they know it. An inside joke he can't understand because he never learned the reason behind it.

Tears fall to the desk, and Kazuto doesn't notice it. He clutches his head and weeps.

This wish... was foolish to begin with.

Maybe he shouldn't have wished to become a hero. Maybe it was written in his fate that this path would only drag him down.

June.

Maybe... If he couldn't triumph, why not try revenge?

Kazuto stays quiet the rest of the month. His birthday slips by, unnoticed. End of May, he remembers. His body loses some of its qualities, because he doesn't deserve to be fit for anything but a failure.

His mind aches for stimulation, but Kazuto doesn't want to cooperate.

Maybe it's better if he can take himself down with this boat.

He knows that either way, his life is doomed. Since the beginning, there wasn't a way out.