Hey! Remember Kanashi?

Well she's in mha now-

(Ps this is a shameless self promo, check out Guard, I'm really excited to write it.)

It's cold, sometimes. Shivers slip through his skin and into his bones, his eyes; his rotten, broken heart wishes it still beat in his chest. Movement helps keep warmth. There's a dead silent feeling, his stomach twists and turns, churning uncomfortably; yet he ignores it. His mind is too focused on stepping― one foot in front of the other, Atsu. One step at a time, Kanashi used to sat that ―up the concrete steps.

Pitter patter goes the rainfall.

In, hold, out. He has learnt to breathe with tar in his lungs and fire on his skin. It may have taken him through hell, but he can breathe through smoke with ease. Now, now he stays. Silent as the night in broad daylight; Irina almost doesn't catch him when he leaves to get out of the house, but drives him to school anyway. He says nothing in the car, he shows no signs of awkward or fear or anything that would portray emotion. Irina purses her lips, gnawing at the colored skin until it tears in her mouth. Red is such an old taste, she doesn't notice the blood. She doesn't know what to do, not at all.

He stares out the window, watching the fliting trees and buildings. There is something so dead about him, so hopeless. It feels as though he's entirely despondent. He's given up without a plan and she would pity him, but she can't find it in herself to. She knows what it's like to live in fear, unaware if saying the wrong words will kill you or someone you love. It had taken her ages to get out of the habit of apologizing for everything.

"Hino!" A voice- a girls voice shouts.

His soulless eyes stare at his phone, he flips it open. He doesn't show a reaction to Ritsu's presence.

"I don't think our parents will be working together anymore." He states without greeting.

"They were caught, it's a shame really.. " Her eyes twinkle as she drifts off.

"Are you going to try and kill Korosensei, Hino-kun?"

He looks back through the window, away from all faces. All prying eyes and ears. Into the static of a place on his head. Focusing on the feeling of sand and the smell of salt. "Yes, though my last attempt was wasted. Shame, really."

Irina looks at him through the rearview, eyebrows raised. She huffs, quiet, don't scare him. He's not used to living; he's used to treading lightly. "You didn't have an attack- not one that I saw."

"Yes I did. I melted the Anti-Sensei bb's into a liquid and fused it with chloroform and toxic berries. I told everyone to close the windows so I could release it as a gass- like tear gas or something of the like. But then Korosensei threw Itona, it broke the wood. So I just knocked Itona out." He spoke to the air, his voice free and practiced. It's clear but low, as if he was trained to speak that way, and maybe he was. She was trained to speak a way, too.

Though it doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. As if the trauma didn't matter to him, as if nothing matters to him.

Nothing matters to someone who can't care.

Nothing matters to him. It's a cruel world, the one he lives in. Filled to the brim with horrors for no child to bear witness to; there is no turning back the clock. He has towers instead of bridges, and where those once were there is ash.

"That's pretty cool, kid."

_

Karma knows something is off, he knows. It's a feeling seeping into his gut. His mother would say it's indistinct, something he got from her rather than his father, (Mother was the best at betting on the stock market). Though, the twist in his stomach grinds at him until it's an itchiness under his skin. There are bugs on his neck and he needs to get rid of them.

It's raining today, it smells like must and fog and tree's.

The trip to Okinawa is next week and he can't really focus on anything other than dreaming. He isn't really sure what he's dreaming about, but he knows he has a dumb smile dressing his lips when he does, Nagisa called him out on it two days ago. It was all a blurry haze of monotone faces and sparking eyes.

Drops of water fall on his blazer and he smirks. Well, he always smirks, but this time it's different, amusement fills his eyes. Everything sinks in and chills mutter hair raising thoughts.

Atsu walks in front of him, head spinning from side to side, as if he's looking for something (or someone). Karma decides to get his share of entertainment from the usually stoic fifteen year old for the day.

"Nacchan, hvor er det? Nacchan? Kom ut, Nacchan. Mor vil få sint."

He mutters the strangest things, though Karma is sure it isn't Japanese or English, it has a different accent, it sounds different. Outstretching a calloused hand, Karma places his palm on Atsu's shoulder, jolting him from his stupor. He freezes under Karma's grip, every muscle tensing in what Karma would assume was surprise or fear.

"Vet du hvor Nacchan er?"

"What are you going on about, Atsu-chan?"

The daze snaps out of him, Atsu's eyes dull.

"Ah, right. How could I forget?" He whispers under his breath, pinching his nose and drawing his eyebrows together. "Never mind, Akab-"

"Karma, Atsu-chan, I said you can call me Karma, didn't I?"

Pitter patter goes the rainfall.

"Alright then, Karma,"

And for a moment, Karma could have sworn his heart stopped breathing and his throat had gone dry. He could have promised his lungs refused to take in air or anything of the like. Fire dusted over his nose and his ears burned.

"S-sure."

;―₰―;

D is for Despondent;

I've never really felt it

The feeling of despair

Hair raising fear

Being uncomfortable because of a―

『𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙚』

D is for Despondency;

There is no God

That can save me

+✲+

D is for Dead;

It starts from her head

And slowly creeps down

Six feet underground

They will never hear a sound

“|𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭|”

тнєу кιℓℓє∂ υѕ