Izuku Midoriya Scars Novels & Stories

"How would we know that it's her we're looking for?" Jucel turned sideways and scanned the field on Luci'sn right. "She has a scar on the right side of her neck. During our fight in Melenōs Fortress, I managed to injure her. Even if she transformed into anything the scar wouldn't be gone." The lady looked to him with a smile. "Aetherial wind leaves damage that can't be repaired by Healers." Lucian nodded. He heard of that before. There are a few Aether in this Kingdom. But none of them he knew personally. "What now?"

POV: Aria After the corrupted rogue dies, Zora examines my wound. Claws tore through my arm. Deep gashes. Burning from blood magic. "This will scar." "Add it to the collection." She looks at me differently. Head tilting. Eyes narrowing. "You have scars?" "Doesn't everyone?" I remove my cloak. Show my arms in firelight. Years of William's abuse visible. Cigarette burns. Belt marks. Knife cuts. Some faded. Some still angry and red.

She was a fucking phoenix that rose from the ashes to complete this new and stronger Ziyah. She put her sexy legs up on the dashboard. My eyes greedily raked over them. This was the first time I saw her wear shorts in public. She hated her scars, but she was beginning to realize that they did not define her. It might have also helped when a little girl saw some with her dress and made a comment about them, showing Ziyah her own scars. Then the girl, tears in her eyes, thanked her because it helped her feel better about hers. ‘I’m always scared of what people will think about them but not anymore because my own Luna has scars too.’

The sight of the overlapping cuts, both old and new, was shocking. Rosie covered her mouth, fighting the urge to cry out. Maybe feeling ashamed of the ugly scars, Jazzy pulled her hand back, covering it with her sleeve. Madeline let her, speaking softly, "Can you tell me about these cuts? Did Mrs. Quigg do this to you?" Jazzy shook her head, a silent testament to the kindness she felt from Madeline. Madeline gazed upon the girl's scarred form, but instead of fear, her eyes were filled with empathy and a deep sadness.

Without giving it a second thought, I reached out and helped him. Tears came to my eyes as I looked at his back. I’d almost forgotten how scarred he was. My wounds were fully healed with only three thin, white lines where Edward had slashed my stomach with his claws, but Enzo’s back was covered in long, pinkish-white scars that raised up from the rest of his skin like a topographic map. “I don’t like you seeing me like this,” he murmured, hanging his head. I shook my head and blinked the tears away. “It’s not that bad.”

"The perfect successor to Project Lazarus." The kitchen tiles were icy under my bare feet as I stood. "You're lying." "Am I?" Saskia set Mara on the counter, the child's legs swinging nervously. "Check her left shoulder blade." The girl's sundress slipped easily off one shoulder. There, in faint silver scars: *D-45*. Just like mine. Jeff's breath hitched. His hand found the small of my back, steadying me as the room tilted. Mara's tiny fingers brushed my cheek. "Mama?"

One moment, I was laughing with my friends at the Moonlight festival, surrounded by silver light and classical music. And the next, I was screaming. My skin was burning and the scent of my own flesh filled the air, twisting my stomach so hard I threw up. Alara grinned widely as she held the pitcher that once contained boiling water. “You thought you have it all but now, you don't! You're nothing, Violeta!” And she was right. The first time I looked into the mirror, I vomited. My once-perfect face was covered in scars. My once-perfect face was now twisted and ruined beyond recognition.

The cast of hardened, calcified clay crumbled away beneath Mama Zuri’s practiced hands, falling to the floor of the medical tent in dusty gray chunks. Baraka held his right arm up to the soft, bioluminescent light filtering through the canvas ceiling. Three weeks had passed since the apocalyptic clash in the Boma courtyard. The jagged, violet-black bruising that had mottled his skin from the shoulder down to the wrist was entirely gone. In its place was smooth, newly knitted muscle, though a web of pale, silvery scars remained—a permanent, physical map of the catastrophic kinetic force he had unleashed against Malik’s gravitational singularity.

He said and I smiled. "Let's sleep together." He said and pulled me down on the bed. He covered us with the duvet. I was laying right on top of him. Does he like to sleep like a sandwich? My eyes went on his chest and I saw those scars again. I didn't pay much attention to them when I first saw him shirtless. "Sebastian, where did you get these scars from?" I asked. "Oh, it's a typical scar I got from an extra-strong enemy," He said and my eyes widened. Typical Scar? This one doesn't look typical at all.

"When the bond went silent... when I couldn't feel you..." His hand trembled against my face. "I tore the world apart, Luna. And I still almost didn't make it in time." I opened my eyes. "But you did. You found me." "Look at you," he said, his voice laced with self-loathing. "Bruised. Broken. Covered in scars." He moved his hand to my shoulder, hovering over the spot where Charlie’s claws had shredded my back. "The healers did their best," he said grimly. "But Lycan claws leave a mark. It will scar. You will carry that... that reminder... forever."