Suddenly, an electronic chime sparked to life, drawing our attention to the dim screen in the far corner. Master's image flickered into view, his gaze as cold and unyielding as tempered steel. His voice cut through the room low, commanding, leaving no room for doubt.
"We shall meet very soon, child. Prepare yourself."
A current of anticipation surged through the room, the quiet air now charged with the certainty of action. With the master's solemn approval, we understood at once that the meeting was something distant on the horizon.
—
I got dressed. I took my phone. My hands were already shaking. My anxiety is going rampant. I felt so sick I wanted to throw up from nervousness. I propped my phone and opened my app. My finger hovered over the live button.
"It's okay, I'm here with you." I felt Tomura's big, warm hand pat my head.
I'm so grateful. I feel like if we hadn't met and I had to overcome this problem by myself, I think I would have given up.
"Tomura," I looked at him, smiling.
He cupped my cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.
"Thank you." I admire his face.
His face varies from being shy and pride. He is so cute.
"No need to thank me. I will always be here.
Showtime
. . .
The livestream kicked off, and almost instantly, viewers flooded in first fifteen thousand, then a hundred thousand, comments racing by like a torrent. At first, the chat sparkled with adoration and praise, but I braced myself, knowing how quickly that could shift.
I took a deep breath and addressed the audience. "I have an important announcement to make."
With positivity, I said, "I'm going to stop the wild scale investigation. So I'd like to announce that I, Izuku Midoryia, am that omega."
The comment feed erupted with hundreds of questions and reactions pouring in, but I forced myself to keep going, tuning out the chaos.
"I would also like to add that I will be withdrawing from UA." I smiled brightly.
Swallowing my nerves, I continued, "To my friends, I thank you for your companionship. I understand if you feel the need to distance yourselves from me, but please know that deceiving anyone was never my intention. I truly appreciate everything you've given me." Bowing, I held my head low for a full ten seconds, giving silent thanks and apology to everyone watching.
I chanced a fleeting glance at the flood of comments on the screen. Their mood had twisted dramatically, adoration curdling into a furious storm of confusion, betrayal, and disappointment.
The words blurred, scathing and relentless: accusations, heartbreak, and disbelief swept over me, each one a shard of glass digging deeper into my chest. My vision swam. A sickening chill crept up my spine, and my lungs seized with dread. I felt the strength drain from my legs, my mind screaming for escape, to vanish, to burrow deep underground where none of this could reach me.
This raw openness, the utter vulnerability of exposing myself to the world, was not for the faint of heart. The weight of being truly seen pressed against my skin, sharp and suffocating, threatening to tear me down. I fought to silence the storm of negativity rising from the darkest corners of my soul, battling desperately to tamp it down and deliver the words I'd so carefully rehearsed.
But my body betrayed me.
A tidal surge of emotion crashed over my defenses, and suddenly, tears spilled down my cheeks, unstoppable and wrenching. The mask I'd tried so hard to maintain shattered. Choking on a sob, I fumbled to end the stream, unable to do anything but surrender to the overwhelming wave of feeling.
Before I could succumb to my disparity any further, a pair of arms strong and sure wrapped around me, lifting me securely away from my terror. Reality snapped back as I met his gaze, eyes burning scarlet, filled with worry and unwavering devotion. It was as if his presence alone created a protective circle, shielding me from the torrent of judgment.
I clung to him, pressing my face into the crook of his neck, grounding myself in the steady thrum of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms. Right then, I remembered: with him, I'd never have to carry this weight alone. Surrounded by his strength and fierce protectiveness, my trembling heart slowly began to find its rhythm again.
—
Third POV
At U.A. High School, chaos erupted as soon as the truth broke. Whispers swiftly built into shouts, echoing off the once hallowed halls. Every corridor teemed with frantic students and stunned faculty, disbelieving over the scandal that shattered their carefully constructed illusions. The revered institution, known for cultivating the future's finest heroes, had unknowingly allowed an omega to walk freely among them, worse, to triumph against the so-called 'superior' alphas in the most prestigious competitions.
Society's expectations for omegas were carved in stone: they were meant to be compliant, soft-spoken, existing only for impregnation or shallow entertainment, never for the physically and mentally taxing hero path. Strength, intelligence, and ambition virtues celebrated in alphas were deemed wasteful at best, dangerous at worst, in omega's hands.
But now, the revelation tore through Hero Society like a storm. The golden child, a living symbol of hope and perseverance, championed by all, was not the shining alpha everyone had assumed, but an omega. Pandemonium ignited anew, the prevailing narrative turning ugly and unforgiving, a betrayal by an omega who had slipped through the cracks and bested their adored system.
Accusations ricocheted: Izuku Midoriya was no longer a role model, but a fraud, a source of shame for the school. He was slandered as the very catalyst for society's supposed decline, the scapegoat in a nation obsessed with hierarchy.
Relentless scorn thundered from every media channel. News anchors and talk show hosts gleefully dismantled Izuku's record, his award-winning triumphs relegated to footnotes, his legacy erased. Yellow journalism plummeted to new depths. His name now evoked with sneers, rumors whipped up out of thin air, his private life mercilessly picked apart, sexualized and twisted to fit the public's thirst for outrage and spectacle.
Truth no longer mattered in the face of such vicious condemnation. The collective anger fed on its own momentum.
Once hailed as a first-rate prodigy and beacon for the new generation, Izuku Midoriya was now mere shorthand for every prejudice, every ingrained dread that society harbored about omegas. Where admiration once shone in people's eyes, there was now only suspicion and hatred.
Despite Izuku swearing to Tomura he wouldn't read anything the media says, Izuku found himself paralyzed and rooted before every screen. Shame and devastation smothered him as each headline, each viral meme, each venomous interview picked him apart. The voices that used to shower him with pride and support now cut deep with barbed words. And as if the world's betrayal were not enough, most of those he'd called friends drifted away in the silence, ghosts that hurt more than explicit hatred.
All except a precious few who refused to abandon him: Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, and Uraraka Ochako remained, their loyalty a faint heartbeat amid the deafening uproar.