#preordereddepression

He had been there only last week, when she had asked him to grab her phone for her, because she left it on her bed but was too busy in the kitchen to get it herself. The room couldn’t have changed in a week.

But he hesitated, losing all of that bravery that had carried him forward until now. His mind flashed back to when he was younger, quietly knocking on his mother’s door, worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers, because he’s had a nightmare.

Chillingly, her room was precisely as he remembered it. The bed with a painted-white frame and dusty-pink sheets, and the darker pink rug beside it. The similarly white wardrobe and a dresser to match. Above her cluttered desk hung a cheap painting of Mt. Fuji Izuku remembered her buying second-hand.

Pro heroes Deku and Dynamight get sent on a rescue mission where they find a kid among the rubble

The kid can't control their quirk yet and under the stress they sent the three of them into the past

They appear in the 1-A dorms, bombarded with question after question about their futures

Except for the Midoriya family.

Inko has always known there was something wrong with her Izuku. Since he was a baby, his behaviour wasn’t that of a normal newborn. When she would lay him down to play, he would reach out his hands this way and that. Sometimes, he reached for Inko, which she delighted in. Sometimes he grabbed at thin air.

At night, when Inko laid in her bed, vigilant, Izuku would cry. She would stand up, begin her trip to his room, yet, before she made it, he would stop crying. Inko would still check on him, but her baby was already back asleep.

These weren’t enough for Inko to truly worry, she just saw them as weird behaviourisms. She’d frequently share these little moments with her dear friend, Bakugou Mitsuki. The other woman found it humorous, so Inko followed her lead.

Inko was proud of her little Izuku, he began speaking much faster than his peers. It was a curious development, yet nothing concerning. However, with his mastery of language, Izuku has begun speaking to himself a lot. Or, rather, speaking to thin air.

She would hear him having full conversations with somebody that didn’t exist. There would be full pauses in his speech, as if another person was responding. It wasn’t akin to a child creating stories in his head, so Inko grew stressed.

Mitsuki was also quite perplexed by this revelation. They sat down once, to think the situation through properly. The best explanation they came up with was imaginary friends. Even though Izuku would have conversations about things Inko knew he didn’t previously know about.

However, going off the assumption that they weren’t just classmates, they likely knew each other’s parents. Paired with the fact that Bakugou had just called Midoriya’s mother auntie, Shouta underestimated how many of his kids were grieving.

They didn’t stay on the floor for long. After only a minute, they started untangling themselves. Like a practised dance, Bakugou unclenched his fists – which were gripping the other’s shirt like a lifeline – pulling his arms away. Midoriya followed suit, releasing his bruising grip around Bakugou’s waist.

They stood up as one, neither holding a hand out for the other. Bakugou smoothed his shirt out, scowl back on his face as he looked anywhere but Midoriya’s face. For his part, Midoriya looked just as reluctant.

If you're an anime fanfic writer, and you're writing about high school the Japanese school year begins in April and ends in March (short break, yes, the school year is long but practically the entirety of August is summer break)

Yet, there he was, in a dingy, dimly lit bar with no windows, strapped to a chair, arms held together by sturdy quirk-cancelling cuffs. His body was sore from the fighting, eyes stinging with sleep, and limbs stiff from the chair.

Katsuki’s mind was reeling. In his mind’s eye he could still picture Deku, right before Katsuki disappeared from his sight. Arms in make-shift splints, shirtless and bruised, face contorted in a swirl of emotions Katsuki could only understand as negative.

He was fucking ashamed of himself. For letting himself be kidnapped, for making Deku believe he had to be the one to stop the villains from capturing Katsuki. Deku looked truly desperate in that moment, and Katsuki knew his own face mirrored that.

Fuck, Katsuki still felt desperate. He was brought in hours ago, and he had not seen any of the villains since. The only other presence in the room was Kurogiri behind the bar, but the man hadn’t glanced in his direction once.

“So, tell me, hero,” Shigaraki’s voice scratched, “What is it about Stain that people like so much.”

Izuku kept silent. He feared his own voice. Was he even expected to answer?

“What do they see in him? Why aren’t they focusing on me?”

Shigaraki snapped his head towards Izuku, forcing their eyes to meet. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. A blunt nail scraped against the skin of his throat, and it took Izuku all his will not to flinch.