What a Tragedy

Chapter 8: Stain vs the Boy in Bandages

Izuku ran through alleyways for the whole night. He was stuck in the maze like back alleys of the city. The rain had stopped earlier that night, leaving him cold, wet, and shaking. He didn't know where he was and it scared him. These weren't the alleys he remembered from when he was eight.

The early days of his abandonment had been spent getting used to the streets and what the different parts of Musutafu looked like. He wasn't in Musutafu.

At some point Izuku tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. He shifted mid fall to land on his shoulder to lessen impact and laid there. He was so so tired. There was a vague feeling of pain in his left ankle, he must've sprained it when he tripped.

What was he gonna do?

Familiar aching set into his bones the longer he laid there. It wouldn't be so bad to rest, right?

Izuku's eyelids felt like lead and every blink made it harder to keep them open. Slowly sleep took him over and he was dragged back into the subconscious of his mind. When he opened his eyes again the sun was up and soft rays shone down past the rooftops of the buildings next to him.

He staggered to his feet only to stumble when he put pressure down on his ankle. It was definitely sprained. It didn't feel as bad as it could be so he'd give it about two weeks before it was fully healed, that is, if he rested it.

There was a dumpster a few feet away that had its lid open and Izuku limped over time the edge to peek in.

To his disappointment, there was nothing inside that could help him make a splint, but then something caught his eye. Behind the dumpster and a whole hoard of clothes. Shirts, pants, and a few blankets. Whoever put all this there was obviously coming back, but they wouldn't notice if something was missing, would they?

The clothes were damp from what he assumed was the rainfall last night and that was when he realized that the hospital gown he still wore was damp and cling to his skin.

He didn't really want to take more than he needed, he already had the gown (even if it did make him feel uncomfortable) to wear. These were somebody else's things. Feeling a little more guilty, he took one of the t-shirts and sat against the wall of the alleyway.

Izuku has never done this before and he didn't really know what to do, so he awkwardly wrapped his ankle with the large stretched out shirt to hold his ankle still in a standing position. The cold dampness did well against the swelling and Izuku relaxed at the slightly relieved pain.

Now he had a new problem to deal with though. Izuku couldn't speak (he could if he worked his vocal muscles but that takes time he didn't have) and he didn't know JSL. He'd always just used writing to talk to people and that was usually just Kurogiri.

He didn't have his notebooks with him, so he couldn't write to ask for help. What he even say if he could? Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I just escaped being experimented on after years of cruel abuse and torture, while also leaving behind one of the only people who have ever been kind to me in favor of getting help. Do you think you could direct me in the right direction please?

Yeah, no.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up again and tested his weight on his newly splinted foot. He couldn't put too much on it, or it would only stop the healing process, but he could walk, even if it was a limp.

The steps were treacherous and the pain was beginning to be agonizing as his other limbs still stung from unhealed lacerations. The back alleyways were like a labyrinth of tunnels and Izuku couldn't even begin to tell where he was.

There were no people in sight to look to for directions (who was he kidding, he wouldn't even be able to ask if there was.)

He just hoped he could make it to a street soon. Osachi still needed help.