7| Legends Never Die

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It's freezing.

That's the first thing you notice when you hop through the window and into the hospital room; the frigid air, accompanied by the wind from where you crawled inside. It looks like any other hospital room: white flooring, tons of medical equipment, flowery-printed curtains, and a bed in the middle.Β 

But what really surprises you is what's on the bed.Β 

A still figure, completely covered in bandages, with tubes and an oxygen mask. And, judging by the mop of curly green hair, it's the pro-hero and Symbol of Peace.Β 

Deku himself, injured and probably sleeping.

He's completely motionless and quiet, and the room is silent, excluding that cursed beeping. It's Deku's heart monitor, which is your only indication he's actually alive. You take a few step closer, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. His eyes are closed and his face is at ease.

beep. beep. beep. beep.

He looks awful. What could have happened?

Something tells you that his injuries must be related to Dynamight's broken leg. It's too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence.Β 

You think of Suzuki's smug face and you pull out your phone, ready to take a picture as proof you snuck in and saw him. But then you hesitate. Is it really worth it? Surely there's a reason the police are keeping this information from the public in the first place, right?Β 

Should you really do this?

You unlock your phone and click the camera, quickly snapping a picture before you can change your mind. It's done. You can leave, and you get to keep your job.

But something keeps you in that room, if even just a second longer. Maybe it's because he's so quiet and still. Maybe because you've only gotten to see his face on T.V. and interviews.Β 

Maybe because he's your hero. Someone you've always wanted to meet.

But not like this. You didn't think you would meet him like this.

You gently take his hand, looking down at the scars. What has he been through? How did he make it this far?

You trace along one of the scars, surprised at how cold his skin is. And then your blood runs cold.

His heart monitor beeps. A single, long tone that you know means nothing good. His body jerks and his hand flies out of yours.

And then everything stops. The hero doesn't move and neither do you.Β 

Multiple machines start to beep, and the room erupts in a cacophony of sounds, alerting the guards outside.Β 

BEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEP.

You quickly snap a picture of the scene, shove your phone in your pocket, and hop out of the window. You hands barely grasp the bars of the ladder and you slide down, your skin burning from the friction.

You land on your ankle, hear a loud pop, and then lay there.Β 

On the ground. In an alleyway. Beside a hospital. At midnight. What a predicament.

Your ankle is throbbing and your palms are scraped red, but nothing hurts more than the hole in your heart. Deku's heart monitor stopped.Β 

Deku's heart monitor stopped, which means . . .

. . . Deku, the Symbol of Peace, is dead.

At first you doubt it. Surely not, right?

But his heart monitor stopped. It stopped as soon as you touched him. Could you have done something?Β 

Is this all your fault?

The beeping. The hero's cold skin. His death-like slumber.

You shiver, and a sob rips from your throat, partly from the scene you witnessed and partly from the pain spreading through your body. The window is still open, so you can hear the commotion inside. Nurses shouting for a doctor or a defibrillator.Β 

And then, it's quiet, and you hear a sigh, followed by a sad voice. "It's too late. We've lost him."

Tears fall down your face.Β 

He's dead. The Symbol of Peace is dead.Β 

You gently touch your palms, healing them with your quirk and bringing instant relief. As you cry you then bring your hands to your throbbing ankle, but your quirk doesn't do anything immediately, which means it's something serious.Β 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You're not sure what to do except go home, so that's exactly where you're headed. The alleys are dark and dewy, and the sky is almost pitch black. There's not a single star in sight. A cab probably won't pick you up at this hour, at least not without a ridiculous fee. It's better to walk; Hiroto can help you with your ankle when you get home.

You stand up, a sting shooting through your body upon putting weight on your right foot. Sighing, you start to limp home, silently crying to yourself and digging your fingernails into your palms.


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