Chapter 3: Izuku's Despair

The rays of dawn crept through Izuku's curtains, but he was already awake, eyes bloodshot and burning from a few hours of sleep and searching the internet. He sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of books and pamphlets, pouring over every possible path that could lead to a new career. His dream of becoming a PRO HERO had been shattered, but he refused to give up. After a long night he had complied a list of potential lifelines - police academies, technical colleges, engineering programs and some social working institutions.

Last night, he tirelessly went over every minute detail and weighing potential alternatives of these places and how they can contribute in his quest to achieve his dreams - a desperate search for a way to rise above the constraints of society and make something of himself.

A small flicker of renewed determination ignited within Izuku, pushing away the gloomy clouds of despair that had suffocated his mind. It was a fragile flame, easily snuffed out, but for now it was ready to burn with intensity, and provide warmth.

He threw himself into drafting applications with determination, his every ounce of being channeled into these desperate grasps at purpose. His hand, gripped the pen tightly, moved across the blank pages with precision. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he scribbled down his thoughts, each stroke a small victory against his inner doubts and fears.

Each application was a labor of pure determination, Izuku pouring his whole being into crafting inspirational essays and highlighting analytical skills honed by years of hero obsession - a desperate plea to admissions committees to look beyond his lack of quirk and recognize the fiery determination within him.

The words flowed from his pen with an intensity that matched the fire burning in his heart, as if he sought to paint a vivid picture of his character and potential. Despite the difficult task at hand, he poured his soul into each word, hoping it would be enough to earn him a single spot out of soo many institution.

The harsh midday sun streamed through the space of his window blinds, casting sharp shadows on Izuku's tired face. Exhausted from hours of reading and writing, he peered at the pile of applications on his desk. He had submitted applications to every such program his town had to offer.

Izuku stood up from his seat and walked over to the printer. He carefully scanned each handwritten application, statement of purpose, and CV before neatly compiling them for each application. With a few clicks, he turned them into separate PDFs and quickly edited any necessary changes.

As he clicked 'send' on the last submission, his hand trembled with uncertainty. He knew these submissions would be sent off to various schools and programs, all vying for different goals and objectives.

A week's passage did shake Izuku's renewed sense of purpose by a little. Izuku's days passed in cyclone of intense emotions, always in a state of constant changing between super exhilaration, hope and crushing despair hopelessness. Each day was a rollercoaster ride, with highs that made his heart happy, excited and lows that threatened to drag him down into the depths of nothingness. The weight of these feelings pressed down on him like gravity pulling him down, never allowing him a moment of peace or quite.

He sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the refresh button on his inbox. He jumped every time the mail carrier walked by his window, hoping for a glimpse of an envelope or package with some semblance of hope. But all he found was an empty mailbox and a sinking feeling of being lost and forgotten.

His fingers were stained with ink from filling out yet another request form at the school's administrative department. "Excuse me," he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, "have you received any updates or replies regarding my application?" The receptionist sighed and turned to her computer, clicking through files.

The administrator lady replied to Izuku, "As I mentioned before, any responses on your behalf would be communicated by your homeroom teacher." She didn't bother glancing at him again.

As the hour turned into days, his once clean desk was now littered with piles of unfinished schoolwork which was near perfect before. Empty chip bags and soda cans cluttered the corners of his room. He couldn't even remember the last time he took a shower. His entire being was consumed by one thing: redemption. Every waking thought and action revolved around this single desire, blurring out any other thoughts or distractions like a laser beam in his mind.

In the depths of his obsession, Izuku would pour over each submission with painstaking attention to detail. He would question every word and phrase, wondering if just one more revision could have made it better for his evaluation.

Did he fully showcase his expertise in analyzing quirks? Did he downplay his reckless actions during the sludge villain incident enough? Was all of his hard work and efforts for nothing? Would these applications be his last attempt at finding purpose before being swallowed? These constant what-ifs fueled a never-ending cycle of doubt and self-blame, threatened to consume his very being.

As soon as the final bell rang, Izuku eagerly gathered his things and made his way to the teacher's room. Mr. Kugawashi had requested to see him after class, and he couldn't wait to find out why. His heart raced with anticipation as he walked through the crowded halls of the school, until finally arriving at the door marked "Teachers Only." He took a deep breath before entering, hoping for good news from his homeroom teacher.

With a sense of renewed purpose, Izuku thought to himself, "Surely this was about those applications - I have finally found a new path!" Hope and optimism ignited within him as he muttered under his breath, thinking about his a brighter future.

After what felt like hours of silence, the homeroom teacher finally broke the news to Izuku. The words were sharp and precise, cutting through him like a surgeon's knife. "I received all your applications, Midoriya. Unfortunately, they've all been rejected."

As soon as those words left his lips, Izuku's grip on reality started to slip. His hands trembled and his heart raced, as if trying to escape the inevitable pain that was coming. Each word hit him like a physical blow, shattering his hopes and dreams with a force that threatened to break him completely. Every aspect of his identity and purpose crumbled before his eyes, leaving him lost and adrift in a dark abyss of despair. His breaths were shallow and strained. He felt overwhelmed and unable to make sense of the intense pain and destruction raging through his mind.

Kugawashi's face was etched with concern as he spoke, his hand resting reassuringly on the protagonist's shoulder. But his words felt distant and hollow, meaningless. As Kugawashi mumbled on about staying positive and not giving up hope, for Izuku it felt like the world was crumbling around him.

Izuku trudged down the empty streets, his school backpack slung over his shoulder and his head hung low. The usual sights and sounds of the city blended together into a dull blur as he walked, making him feel even more adrift and disconnected. Each step felt heavier than the last, pulling him further away from any sense of belonging or purpose. His thoughts spiraled in a constant loop, questioning his existence and purpose in life. The weight of these doubts weighed heavily on his already fragile mind, slowly fracturing it bit by bit.

Izuku's hand lingered on the doorknob as he stepped inside his childhood home. His eyes roamed over every familiar detail, but his mind was elsewhere, consumed by turmoil. In an instant warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Izuku could feel his mother's heart racing against his chest as she held him close, pouring all of her love and strength into the embrace. For a moment, the chaos in his mind quieted as he let himself be enveloped in her warmth and care.

Izuku curled into his mother's embrace, seeking solace from the gnawing emptiness that consumed him. Her gentle voice and warm touch used to anchor him, but now he could feel himself slipping further into the void. She whispered reassurances, but they no longer held any power to chase away the suffocating darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

Izuku gently released himself from his mother's embrace, feeling her warmth and comfort slip away. He dragged his feet in a daze to his bedroom, the weight of disappointment and self-doubt heavy on his shoulders. He collapsed onto his bed, surrounded by the mess of discarded dreams and ambitions. With empty eyes, he stared at the cracks in the peeling posters of heros in his room his mind poisoning him with dark ruminations and vicious self-blame.

Is there really any fairness in this world? How can I find purpose or meaning when the universe seems to delight in destroying my hopes and sense of self?

As the sun set and darkness crept in, Izuku sat on his bed, lost in thought. He barely noticed when his mother called him for dinner, her voice muffled through the closed door. His mind was consumed with worry over his uncertain future as a hero.

He shuffled out in a daze to the living room, his body still trembling from the adrenaline rush of his harrowing encounter with the sludge villain. The TV screen flickered with jarring images of his reckless bravery, captured and amplified by reporters who spoke in dramatically breathless tones. They recounted and analyzed every angle of his actions as an unauthorized civilian, intervening against a trained and dangerous adversary. Izuku couldn't help but recoil reflexively as he watched the footage, reliving the intense fear and determination that had propelled him into that life-or-death situation.

Then the screen seized upon the imposing visage of the Minister of Hero Law Enforcement, Hiroku Natsumu...