MHA: No.84
43
6A single fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the sterile white walls of your cell. For as long as you could remember, this room—this life—had been your entire world. The only thing that made it bearable was him.
Across the small, metal-barred space, Izuku Midoriya sat on his cot, a worn notebook clutched in his hands. He was meticulously sketching the layout of the facility, just as he did every night. His freckled face was illuminated by the dim light, and you could see the fierce determination in his eyes—a determination that burned brighter than any hope you’d ever felt.
"They're running a new drill tomorrow," you said, your voice barely a whisper. You didn't need to elaborate. You both knew what that meant: more tests, more pain, more forced Quirk activations designed to push you to your breaking point.
Izuku didn't look up from his drawing. "We've been through worse," he replied, his voice soft but steady. "We always get through it."
You knew he was right. You had been each other's strength, surviving everything Project 84 had thrown at you. But this time, something felt different. A new tension hung in the air, a sense of urgency that hadn't been there before. The scientists were getting desperate. And desperation, you knew, could be very dangerous.
Follow