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Chapter One - Forced to Adapt
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The soft turn of a page in an age-old comic book.
The cold, wet, uneven surface of the cage floor.
A bright sun, the beginning of the summer season.
The darkness of the run-down ship left to drift through space.
The jeers and voices of ostracization.
The quiet isolation as the only survivor.
This is who they fear.
This is who fears.
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June 13th 22XX
"What the fuck are you doing here, Deku!?"
A flash of light.
"Kacchan, RUN!"
Flight.
Turns into.
Fight.
What's h a p p e n i n g . . . ?
Claws reach out. Metal sparks with bursts of electricity. Too many eyes.
Bright yellow blood— StopStopStop — stains his hands, stains his teeth.
No way home. Alone on a ship with no clue on how to pilot it.
Rations run dry. Starvations...is a slow way to D I E—
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The Outskirts of the Terra Solar System
July 10th 22XX
Weak, uneven breaths.
A constant tremor in Izuku's bones as the lifeless ship stole the heat from his very core. His clothes are unsuited for the environment. A thin black T-shirt with the words 'T-shit' on the front, tan cargo shorts, and a pair of bright-red, black-laced, shoes. Something thrown on as the summer heat grew with the change of seasons.
Not for the unforgiving cold of space travel.
The ship coast on autopilot. But the crawl is slow enough to call it aimless. A deep groan of metal echoes across the neverending reaches of the cosmos.
