Izuku Midoriya had been the happiest kid in the world.
He had been chosen as All Might's successor. Accepted into U.A.—the greatest hero school in the country. His dream was finally real.
So why did he feel this way?
The television flickered in front of him, replaying footage he couldn't look away from.
"Following the confrontation, Samuel Suzuki, an eighteen-year-old male, has been hospitalized and detained. Suzuki is responsible for a violent rampage over the last several days, during which he fought police officers and Pro Heroes alike—putting heroes such as Hawks and Endeavor out of commission."
Izuku's breath caught.
How could someone beat Hawks… and Endeavor?
"More concerning is the revelation that Suzuki is completely quirkless. This has led to nationwide protests, with quirkless citizens rallying in his name as a symbol of systemic oppression. The Hero Public Safety Commission has yet to issue an official statement."
Izuku's hands trembled.
A quirkless person wasn't supposed to do this.
Heroes had quirks. Villains had quirks. That was the rule of the world—one Izuku had accepted long ago.
And yet Sam Suzuki shattered it.
Africa… children being gunned down…
Izuku swallowed hard.
That wasn't anger. That wasn't manipulation.
That was pain.
He clenched his fists.
'I may not be able to become a symbol of peace, Suzuki-kun, Izuku thought, but I swear… I'll become a symbol of hope.'
At U.A., silence filled the conference room.
The television blared heated debate.
"He's a villain! He attacked heroes!"
"Did you hear his voice? That wasn't a villain—that was trauma!"
"So we pardon criminals now because they had a hard life?"
Nezu turned the television off.
He sighed quietly.
Humans can be so very foolish…
"This isn't good," Nezu said, paws folded neatly.
He glanced around the room before looking toward the nurse.
"Recovery Girl," he asked calmly, "how is All Might?"
She scowled.
"That idiot's fine physically. Mentally?" She snorted. "He's in shock. He keeps saying he failed the boy. He begged me to heal Suzuki."
That stunned the room.
"And Sam?" Midnight asked softly.
Recovery Girl's expression darkened.
"He was close to death. Severe burns. Infections. Cracked ribs. A broken leg. And that's just what this incident did."
Her voice wavered.
"But that's not the worst part."
She wiped her eyes.
"His body is covered in scar tissue. Knife wounds. Bullet scars. I even found what looked like a snake bite—clean incision to drain venom."
She hesitated.
"And that scar on his face?"
She shook her head slowly.
"That wasn't done by a human."
The room went silent.
"I see…" Nezu said quietly. "Will he recover?"
"Physically? In a few days," Recovery Girl replied. "Mentally?"
She exhaled.
"I'm not a psychologist—but that boy has severe PTSD."
Hound Dog nodded grimly. "He was in a manic dissociative state. By the end, he didn't know what was real."
Aizawa looked down.
"I treated him like a delinquent playing hero," he muttered. "Because of me—"
"Ain't that the understatement of the year."
They turned.
Lieutenant Donald Simmons stood in the doorway.
Nezu inclined his head. "Lieutenant Simmons, thank you for—"
"Save it," Simmons snapped. "I sent a memo. A damn clear one. Therapy. Immediate treatment. And it was ignored."
He pointed at Aizawa.
"And you," he growled. "You attack him like a villain? That kid's seen more hell than you or I ever will. Screw you."
Aizawa didn't respond.
The words landed anyway.
"The Commission wants him in Tartarus," Nezu said tightly. "Forever."
"What?!" Present Mic barked. "That's insane!"
"We should fight this," Snipe said. "He's not a villain."
Simmons clenched his fists.
"Why am I here?" he demanded. "I want to be there when he wakes up."
Nezu met his eyes.
"We need your help. The Commission intends to lock him in Tartarus for the rest of his life."
Simmons didn't answer—but he didn't leave.
Sam was back in Africa.
The air was dry, thick with smoke. The horizon shimmered with heat. In the distance—gunfire. Shouting. Screams.
Sam looked around wildly.
"Was it… all a dream?" he whispered.
His breath hitched, then broke into a laugh that didn't sound like it belonged to him.
"Hahaha… Gahhh—!"
He collapsed into the dirt, fingers digging into the grass, ripping it free as tears streamed down his face.
Memories crashed in—bullets tearing through bodies, bombs shaking the earth, children crying out for parents who never answered.
He clutched his ears and slammed his forehead into the ground.
"Get me out…" he begged. "Please…"
His voice rose into a scream.
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"
He tried to move.
Agony exploded through his body.
Sam screamed.
His body shook violently as he tried again—only for white-hot pain to rip the breath from his lungs.
A rapid beeping echoed in his ears.
The sharp, sterile stench of antiseptic burned his nose.
Understanding crept in slowly, dread settling heavy in his chest.
A hospital.
Sam's eyes snapped open.
Ceiling tiles. Harsh lights. Tubes. Monitors.
Chains.
He stared at them, then laughed weakly.
Then cried.
"I hate this world," Sam whispered hoarsely. "At least in Africa they don't hide behind some sham symbol of peace."
The door burst open.
Doctors rushed in.
"You were at death's door," one said urgently. "Severe burns, infections, cracked ribs, a fractured ankle—your shoulder wound would've killed you if it hadn't been cauterized."
"Why am I awake?" Sam muttered.
"Recovery Girl healed you."
Sam scoffed faintly. "A hero helped me?"
The doctor hesitated. "All Might begged her to."
That surprised him.
Another knock.
Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi entered, fedora low, eyes sharp.
"Samuel Suzuki—"
Sam turned his head and met his gaze.
He felt it immediately.
The glare.
Cold. Judgmental. Angry.
"How about you come back later," Sam said flatly, "or when you stop glaring at me like that."
Tsukauchi's jaw tightened.
Before he could respond, the door opened again.
"Hello, Suzuki-kun! Am I a dog? A bear? No—I am the principal!"
Nezu entered cheerfully.
Sam exhaled slowly. "Principal of U.A., right? Are you here to settle the score for that hobo or All Might?"
Nezu chuckled. "Neither. I'm here to help."
"I don't care."
"The Commission is pushing to send you to Tartarus," Nezu said calmly. "For life. I can stop it."
Sam closed his eyes.
"Let them lock me away," he said quietly. "I'm done."
Nezu studied the young man for a long moment.
Sam lay there unmoving, eyes closed, his face hollow with exhaustion and pain. Not defiant. Not angry.
Just… done.
Nezu sighed.
He turned toward the door, his expression unreadable as he adjusted his tie.
"Very well…"
I'll save you anyway.