If mornings are bad, afternoons are where hope goes to die. You'd think after the fish pond incident and the puddle fiasco, the universe would cut me some slack. But no, apparently, I hadn't hit my daily humiliation quota yet.

First up was math class. I shuffled in, still damp and smelling faintly of pond water. The teacher, a stern woman with the personality of an angry ruler, immediately zeroed in on me.

"Midoriya," she barked, "where is your homework?"

I froze. Oh, right. The homework that was currently reduced to an abstract art project courtesy of koi fish and pond water.

"It, uh... got wet," I said weakly, holding up my soggy notebook as evidence.

The class snickered, and the teacher pinched the bridge of her nose like I was personally responsible for every bad decision she'd ever made.

"Wet? That's your excuse?" she snapped. "What's next, Midoriya? You'll tell me a tornado flew through your house and destroyed your assignments?"

I opened my mouth to explain, but she cut me off.

"Enough. Just sit down and stop wasting everyone's time."

I slumped into my seat, feeling about two inches tall.

Next was science class, where things somehow got worse. The teacher, Mr. Goto, was the type who believed in "tough love," which, in his case, just meant being an outright jerk.

"Midoriya," he said, calling on me for a question I definitely didn't know the answer to. "If you even have a single functioning brain cell, you'll be able to tell me the chemical formula for photosynthesis."

I blinked. "Uh... C6H12O6?"

The class erupted into laughter.

"Wrong!" he barked. "That's glucose, you idiot. Are you even trying to learn, or are you just here to take up space?"

I wanted to sink into my chair and disappear.

But the real highlight of my day came in English class. Mrs. Tanaka, a woman who seemed to genuinely despise the concept of "quiet suffering," decided that today was the day she'd make an example of me.

"Midoriya!" she snapped, slamming her hand on her desk. "Are you even paying attention?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly, sitting up straight.

"Really? Then why don't you read the next paragraph aloud?"

I picked up the textbook and started reading, but my voice cracked halfway through. The class burst into laughter, and Mrs. Tanaka rolled her eyes.

"Speak up, Midoriya! Stop mumbling like you're afraid of your own shadow!"

I tried again, but by now, my face was so red, and my throat so dry, that I stumbled over the words.

"Pathetic," she muttered loud enough for the class to hear. "No wonder you're failing."

That's when she crossed the line.

"Midoriya," she said, walking over to my desk, "you're wasting everyone's time. Get out of my classroom."

I froze. "What?"

"Out!" she snapped, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. "If you can't even read properly, then don't bother infesting my classroom with your stupidity!"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. The room went silent, save for the sound of chairs creaking as everyone turned to watch.

She didn't just tell me to leave—she dragged me out, her hand clamped around my ear like I was some kind of misbehaving child.

"Maybe the hallway will teach you some respect," she hissed before shoving me out and slamming the door behind me.

I stood there, stunned, my ear throbbing and my heart pounding.

Infesting her classroom with my stupidity.

Her words echoed in my head, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to go home and never come back.

Instead, I sat down on the floor, leaning against the cold, unwelcoming wall.

And for the first time all day, no one was watching. No one was laughing.

It was just me and the silence.

As I sat there, staring at the scuffed linoleum floor, a thought crept into my mind.

What's the point of any of this?

School, life, dreams of being a hero—it all felt so far away, like I was chasing something I'd never be able to reach.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Why do I keep trying?

By the time school was about to end, I'd had enough. Enough of the stares, enough of the whispers, enough of everything. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, my chest heavy with a sinking weight I couldn't shake off.

I found myself climbing the stairs to the rooftop, each step feeling heavier than the last. I didn't even know why I was going up there—it wasn't like I had a plan. I just wanted to be away from everyone. Away from the constant noise of laughter at my expense.

The metal door creaked as I pushed it open, the bright sunlight hitting my face like a slap. The air was crisp, the kind that stung your cheeks just enough to remind you it was winter. I stepped out onto the rooftop and let the door swing shut behind me with a hollow clang.

It was quiet up here. Peaceful, even. The kind of quiet that makes your thoughts feel louder, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the best idea for me right now.

I wandered over to the edge of the rooftop and leaned against the railing, staring down at the schoolyard below. It wasn't even that high up. Maybe three stories? Four? Definitely not enough for anything dramatic.

And yet, I couldn't stop Bakugo's words from echoing in my head.

"Why don't you just take a swan dive off the roof and hope for a quirk in your next life, Deku?"

I gripped the railing tighter, my knuckles turning white. The weight in my chest grew heavier, pressing down until I could barely breathe.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I really am useless. Maybe this world would be better off without—

"Meow."

The soft sound snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts like a slap. I blinked and looked around, confused.

And then I saw it.

A cat.

It was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, balancing perfectly on the narrow ledge like it wasn't fifty feet above the ground.

Its fur was black, sleek and shiny, except for its paws, which were white as snow. The fur on its face was white too, painted in a way that made it look like it was wearing a mask around its eyes.

"Where did you come from?" I murmured, wiping my face quickly with my sleeve.

The cat tilted its head, its bright green eyes staring at me like it could see straight through me.

"Don't tell me you climbed all the way up here," I said, stepping closer.

The cat didn't move, just flicked its tail lazily like it owned the rooftop and I was the intruder.

"Okay, so you're not impressed by heights," I said, crouching down a few feet away. "Cool, cool. Must be nice not to be scared of falling."

The cat meowed again, this time louder, like it was agreeing with me.

"Great. Even cats are cooler than me," I muttered.

The cat blinked slowly, which I'd heard somewhere was a cat's way of saying they trusted you. Or maybe it was their way of mocking you. Either way, it was better company than Bakugo.

I sat down on the rooftop, crossing my legs and leaning back against the railing. The cat hopped down from the ledge and padded over to me, its white paws making no sound on the concrete.

"Hey there," I said softly as it sniffed at my soggy shoe. "You don't want to mess with me. I'm bad luck."

The cat ignored me, rubbing its head against my leg like it had decided I was its new best friend.

"You sure about this?" I asked, scratching behind its ears. "I'm kind of a disaster magnet."

The cat purred, loud and rumbling, and for the first time all day, I felt... okay. Not great, not good, but okay.

It was weird, really. I'd spent the whole day feeling like the world was against me, like I couldn't do anything right. And here was this cat, this random rooftop cat, acting like I was worth something.

"You're a weird little guy," I said, smiling faintly as it curled up in my lap.

The cat looked up at me with those bright green eyes, and for a moment, I could've sworn it understood me.

"Guess we're both misfits, huh?" I said. "Me and you against the world."

The cat yawned, settling into my lap like it had decided this was its new throne.

I stayed up there with the cat until the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

For once, I didn't want to go back to class. But as I stood up and placed the cat gently back on the rooftop, I felt... lighter.

"Thanks," I said softly, scratching its head one last time before heading back inside.