Halfway to the Moon

Rising Tides

 Izuku stepped quietly into the stillness of his small apartment living room and closed the door gently behind him. It was such a relief to finally be home. His feet were killing him from standing up most of the day, his head throbbed with a dull, constant pain, and his muscles were sore beyond belief.

 He moved further into the house and groaned softly at the leftover ache that riddled his body. The strain in his limbs as he struggled to walk was a constant reminder of the expectations he was meant to meet, and he couldn't help thinking back to the conversation he'd had with All Might earlier in the day.

  "Are you sure you're alright, Young Midoriya? You aren't doing any extra training are you?" All Might had asked right after Izuku had, once again, collapsed to his knees in the middle of training. His striking blue irises shone with concern and stood out harshly against the sunken pools he called eyes. Izuku was hardly more than simply the other man's student, essentially just a suitable vessel for something far greater than himself, but it felt as though the hero genuinely cared about Izuku as a person- not only as the boy's mentor. The green haired boy felt his heart jump into his throat at the thought. His idol, his childhood hero, the person he admired oh so much, genuinely cared for him.

 Since the day Izuku turned four years old, he'd only known the love of his mother. In a world where greatness was the new average, Izuku was simply inadequate. He was the runt of the litter- weak and frail, made from scraps and left behind. Only he wasn't properly nurtured like the cute, unfortunate kittens or puppies were. Instead, Izuku was put through hell; forced to endure torment after torment, trial after trial, with seemingly no end in sight- and in the face of his suffering, his peers did nothing but laugh. His friends abandoned him and in their place stood bullies, showering him in physical reminders of exactly what made him different. What made him so impossibly useless.

 And it hurt so bad partly because he was useless. He always had been, even before the universe announced it to the world in the form of indisputable genetics.

 So hearing All Might ask, so earnestly, if he was okay, was almost too sweet. It was a tune he wasn't used to hearing, and he was almost afraid of becoming addicted to it.

 However nice it was, though- no matter how much he truly appreciated it, he couldn't exactly tell All Might the truth. He couldn't just say, "Well, actually, All Might, in my attempts to be a good son I've become exhausted beyond what my body can handle reliably, my mental health is in shambles and I'm scared to properly acknowledge it, and honestly I'm absolutely terrified I won't be good enough to inherit this power from you. Don't worry, though, I'll be fine, I can keep doing this."

 Yeah, no, that wouldn't go over well. The other might deem him unsuitable, afterall, and look for another successor. He couldn't risk that. Even with everything that was going on, even though he was afraid, he still wanted more than anything to become a hero. He'd be a hero like All Might and wear a smile on his face so that others wouldn't have to. That was his dream, and now that it was within reach, there was no way he was going to let it pass him by. He'd stretch his fingers as far as they would go, with both hands, and grasp onto it with everything he had.

 Thus, he lied- however horribly.