In the bustling heart of New York City, a young boy sat in his dimly lit room, the glow of a television screen reflecting off his focused face. His fingers danced over the controller with a precision born of countless hours of practice.
Iruma: "Almost there! Just Bakugo and Shigaraki left!" he muttered, his voice tense with excitement.
The sounds of explosions and chaotic battle echoed from the speakers. Iruma's Deku weaved through attacks—Area of Effect explosions from Bakugo and the menacing decay grabs of Shigaraki. The tension in the air was palpable, each cautious flick of the joystick a calculated move.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the intensity.
???: "Iruma! Dinner's ready!"
The warm yet urgent call of his mother drifted up from downstairs.
Iruma: "Five minutes, Mom! I'm almost done!" he yelled, his eyes never leaving the screen.
His Plus Ultra bar was finally full. A wicked grin spread across his face as he taunted his opponents over the mic.
Iruma: "You're *cooked.*"
---
[Mom's POV]
I heard the telltale sound of his "Victory Royale" playing from upstairs and couldn't help but smile.
At least he's winning, I thought, setting down a platter of roast chicken and pork ribs. The aroma of my carefully prepared dinner filled the air as I admired my work.
Hearing his footsteps above, I whispered to myself, What's that boy up to now? Might as well get the surprise started.
---
[Iruma's POV]
I placed my controller down with a satisfied sigh and put my PS5 into sleep mode.
Another win. Maybe tomorrow I'll get a good draw, I mused, stretching as victory music echoed in my mind. I made my way to the bathroom, lazily tossing my clothes into the laundry basket. The shower's warm spray washed away the sweat and grime of the day, the water cascading down my messy black hair and lean frame.
After drying off, I stood before the mirror, staring at my reflection. My brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and I practiced a menacing line in a cold, low voice.
Iruma: "Do you wanna have a bad time?"
The sound of my toothbrush clinking against the sink added an oddly satisfying effect. I chuckled to myself, shrugging.
Close enough, I thought.
As I dressed, I let my mind wander. *What if I had Sans's powers in the world of MHA?* I imagined bones flying and Gaster Blasters wreaking havoc.
My thoughts were interrupted by a chilling scream.
Mom: "AAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The sound froze me. Before I could call out, three deafening gunshots rang through the house.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
My heart stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. Praying that my fears were unfounded, I grabbed my bone-themed baseball bat—a replica inspired by Sans and Papyrus's attacks. My hands trembled as I crept down the stairs, gripping the bat tightly.
---
The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
A banner reading Happy Birthday! hung across the room. Family and friends burst out with a loud "Surprise!"
I stumbled, falling on the stairs as laughter erupted around me.
Mom: "Told you the gun prank would work like a charm," she said, laughing. "He may be lazy, but he'd do anything for the people he loves."
Relief and happiness washed over me as I took in the familiar faces. The sounds of laughter, sizzling meat on the barbecue, and FIFA commentary filled the air. I grabbed a Coke from the fridge, my heart finally settling.
But then… something felt off. My chest tightened. My breath grew shallow.
Iruma: "Mom… do you want… anything…?" I asked, my voice weak.
Before she could respond, everything went white.
---
[In The Hospital]
The air was thick with urgency. The bright, sterile lights of the operating room illuminated the frantic faces of the medical staff as they worked tirelessly to save a life.
Nurse: "BP is dropping! He's at 50/30 and falling fast!"
Doctor: "We're losing him! Get me an epinephrine shot, now!"
A nurse rushed to hand over the syringe, her hands trembling slightly as the beeping from the heart monitor became more erratic.
Doctor: "Clear the airway. Start compressions. Prepare the defibrillator!"
One nurse positioned the oxygen mask over my lifeless face, while another began chest compressions.
Nurse: "He's not responding!"
The doctor's face was tense, his brow furrowed as he grabbed the defibrillator paddles.
Doctor: "Charging to 200! Clear!"
A sharp zap filled the room as my body jerked slightly on the table. The monitor briefly spiked, then flatlined again.
**Beeeeeeeeep.**
Nurse: "No pulse. Increasing to 300. Charging!"
Doctor: "Clear!"
Another zap. Another jerk. The silence that followed was deafening.
The team exchanged worried glances as the doctor tried again, his voice strained.
Doctor: "Don't give up! Charging to 360! Clear!"
The paddles shocked my chest one last time, but the monitor remained flat. The continuous tone of the flatline filled the room, oppressive and final.
Beeeeeeeeeeeep.
The doctor let out a deep sigh, placing the paddles back on the cart with a heavy hand. He looked around at the team, the weight of defeat heavy on his shoulders.
Doctor: "Time of death: 8:47 PM. Sigh...It never gets easier saying that..."
A nurse stepped back, pulling off her gloves with a resigned sigh.
Nurse: "We did everything we could…"
The room fell silent, except for the hum of the equipment and the soft rustle of fabric as the team began to clean up. One nurse hesitated, her voice trembling as she spoke.
Nurse: "Who's going to tell the family?"
The others averted their gazes, their faces pale with the gravity of the task. Finally, one nurse raised her hand, her expression a mix of sadness and determination.
Nurse: "I'll do it… I owe it to them."
A soft murmur of approval followed, but no one spoke further. The tension and sorrow in the room hung in the air like a dense fog.
[Iruma's POV]
I watched the scene unfold from above, hovering like a ghost in the corner of the room. The sight of my lifeless body on the table sent a chill through me, though I felt strangely detached.
Iruma: "So… that's it, huh? My Game Over..."
I glanced at the nurse who had volunteered to break the news. Her shoulders were slumped as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. It felt surreal, watching these strangers mourn me, a boy they'd never even known.
For a moment, I wanted to yell out, to tell them it was okay, that I was still here—somehow. But no sound came. I was stuck, an invisible observer to my own death.
My gaze shifted to the bright white light that seemed to beckon from above. A strange sense of calm washed over me, as if it wasn't the end… but the beginning of something else.