Fractured Mind

SevenRenny

The first thing he felt was the slight buzzing of his bones. The inside of his limbs rippled like how they did when riding a very bumpy roller ouster. There was no rush of wind, no noise of rattling tracks. Eyes glued shut, he breathed in the familiar scent of the hard pillow. It smelled like the clothes of the different students who had used it as a backrest. This wasn't his pillow.

A long-fingered palm cupped his forehead and he forced his eyes to crack open.

Momo's face was the first to come into blurry view. Being the tallest girl in class, she was bending down, her hand on his forehead, her brows pinched.

"Deku!" Ochaco's voice came from above him somewhere.

"Midoriya, you're awake." Momo pulled her hand away.

A few other voices surrounded him. He couldn't see most of them.

"Did you sleep down here all morning, kero?" Tsuyu's voice came from somewhere.

Groaning, he shifted and stopped as his joints ached. "…What?" he breathed out, confused.

"Midoriya, sleeping on the couch is not healthy for your back," Tenya said.

Izuku craned his neck to inspect his environment. "The couch?" He was, indeed, stretched across the couch, his head by the armrest and his feet pointing toward the other armrest. There was a thin blanket splayed over him, covering him from stomach to below the knees. It was free of wrinkles, so he suspected someone had covered him with it just recently.

A few faces were peeking at him from above the couch's backrest.

"Did you wanna watch TV or something?" Denki hypothesized an explanation he thought he himself would do.

Izuku wracked his brain for a memory. The TV screen was black and the controller was on the coffee table. He had no memory of watching or turning off the television. "I… can't remember. He brushed a hand down his face, trying to wake himself up. He sat up – the blanket dribbling down to his hips – and hunched, feeling his neck and back bending like a stiff cane. "What time is it?" He then realized everyone else was still in school uniform.

"Just got back," Hanta answered somewhere in the kitchen. The tap turned on and off.

"Deku, what did Recovery Girl say?" Ochaco asked anxiously.

A distance away, by the elevators, he heard Katsuki grumble, "Better not be contagious." Izuku sat right behind him in class, after all.

"She told me I might just be tired?" he remembered. "And to come back if anything else happens."

A few of the kids relaxed upon hearing that. They began to part, seeing as there was nothing to worry about.

"Well, that's a relief," Eijiro said. "Are you gonna come back tomorrow?"

He perked up. As much as he could, anyway. "Yeah. I don't want to miss out."

Tenya jostled his bag. "We've taken notes for you. Would you like us to drop them off in your room?"

Izuku almost forgot about his aching neck. "You guys… thanks so much. I'm sorry you had to do this for me."

"It was no trouble at all," Tenya assured him.

"Yeah, Deku!" Ochaco said with a wide smile. "Friends help each other."

He really was lucky. "Thanks, guys. Can I see what I missed, please? I can take them up later." He reached for the two notebooks. Folded paper pieces (possibly ripped out of other notebooks) stuck out of the edges. Curly sticky notes refused to stay completely inside. So much missed knowledge written to him by two different hands: one with elegant handwriting, academically structured and free of scribbles; the other was more childish, had arrows for added notes, and was written with different colors using a multicolor pen. He could tell who wrote what. "This is great, guys! Thanks so much."

"Are you gonna study out here?" Ochaco asked with a head tilt like a confused puppy.

Notes open, he was already engrossed in the notes and slightly stunned by how much he'd missed in a day. "Yeah. I have to catch up to everyone. Don't worry, I'll take them up later."

Tenya didn't look too pleased but knew trying to persuade his friend into not studying was futile. "Well, please do as Recovery Girl instructed and rest. And do so in a position suitable for your spine."

Izuku gave a shy smile. "I'll try, Iida." He couldn't promise. He was the type to sit in front of the computer for hours with his legs pulled to his chest.

He was glad he didn't give Tanya his word, because, to his dismay, he'd blacked out again, only being woken up by a rough hand on his shoulder.

"Midoriya," Eijiro whispered so as to not scare him awake. "Midoriya, come on, buddy, wake up. Sato made chicken curry."

He'd fallen asleep with the notes neatly stacked on the coffee table. The blanket was back over him. Someone had taken the notebook from him and blanketed him again. He yawned and regretted it when he smelled his own breath. He'd overslept on an empty stomach. Had he even gone over most of the notes?

Seeing him struggle to heave himself up, Eijiro helped him sit up. Izuku winced at how his neck strained. Tenya had warned him.

"Dang, you slept like a log," Eijiro commented, "We were being loud, too. You didn't even turn in your sleep."

"I don't remember falling asleep…" He ran his hand through his messy hair, feeling one side flatter than the rest of his curls. He'd wasted more time sleeping. It was frustrating to constantly fall in and out of focus when all he wanted to do was study. He still felt tired, like all that sleep hadn't done anything for him.

Half the class was already downstairs, surrounding the dining area; all dressed in comfortable home wear that suited each of their personalities. He pictured Tenya making round, calling the rest of the boys downstairs one by one.

"Sleeping beauty's up," Hanta joked. Beside him, Shoto arranged plates and bowls on the table.

Ochaco helped place down a few utensils. "You must've been really tired, Deku. You slept so long."

Seeing him awake, Mina turned to the one person trying to balance a spoon on his nose. "Kaminari, say sorry to Midoriya," she said with a mischievous grin.

A few students snickered; some stifled their laughs as best they could. Startled at being called out, Kaminari's spoon cluttered over the table. "I - I'm sorry! It – I – It was an accident!" he defended before anything else.

Izuku blinked innocently, confused.

"Bro, you were about to sit on the poor guy," Eijiro said, amused.

Toru snickered at the memory. "Lucky Ojiro grabbed you before you sat."

"I saw the look on Ojiro's face!" Mina laughed and buried her face in her folded hands in an attempt to not be too loud. "It's like his life flashed before his eyes. Never seen him move so fast."

"I'm sorry! I didn't see him there, I swear!" Denki said with such sincerity and guilt like he had almost accidentally kicked someone's baby. "I seriously didn't see him."

"Look before you seat, dummy."

"I thought Midoriya went to his room. I didn't know he was still there!"

Izuku could imagine how boisterous everyone had been while he slept through it all. It was unusual. He was normally a light sleeper, waking up from the slightest noise from next door.

Now, he slept through so much.

He yawned and waved off Denki's concern. "It's okay, Kaminari. It was an accident."

"You're lucky it was Midoriya and not Bakugo," Kyoka said, pointing an earjack at Denki.

Izuku was certain that wouldn't have ended well for Denki. "Do you need help?" Izuku asked Rikido, putting his hands out, expecting to be handed heavy, steamy pots; but nothing came. Instead, hands clapped him on the shoulders and guided him to take a seat.

"It's alright, bro. Sit this one out." Eijiro told him, patting him on the shoulder one more time.

Ochaco giggled. "Iida said we shouldn't let you work."

Ah. Of course. He didn't consider setting the table work, but no matter whom he shot puppy dog eyes at, they knew to not give in. The rest of the students started trickling in, being summoned by the class president rapping on each of their doors and announcing that food was on the table. Their chatter was a thrum to his ears, only managing to hear: "Leave something for Sensei." He wasn't hungry. Actually, he was, but his body physically did not move like it was. Stirring his spoon through his rice, he glanced up and briefly caught the glimpse of Shoto eyeing him with half-lidded eyes like a patient cat. It was hard to tell what he was thinking when he almost always had that bored expression.

But he was staring; that was enough of a sign he'd noticed something. Before Shoto could offer him some of what was on his plate – which had almost exactly what Izuku had – Izuku turned his attention to his food, scooped a spoonful and forced himself to eat, chewing with the speed of a snail. His stomach growled, eager, but his jaw responded slower than normal.

He was visually more aware since he'd woken up minutes ago; his muscles not as tense. Maybe he truly did need rest? His schoolwork was piling up, and sleeping more meant that work would doable by tomorrow. He hadn't meant to fall asleep earlier. Izuku still couldn't figure out the reason for his sudden fatigue. His classmates were doing fine, talking loudly and joking and moving around so much.

"Midoriya, mon ami," Yuga said elegantly with grape juice in a glass that made it look like he was drinking wine. A napkin hung from the collar of his shirt. "You have been in my dazzling chamber. Did you need something? "

A few eyes turned to him. Confused and mouth full, Izuku managed a questioning, "Hmm?"

Fumikage lowered his spoon. "Given Midoriya's state this morning, it's possible he went into your room by accident."

Izuku finally swallowed. "Wait, what did I do?"

Ochaco decided to answer. "You had glitter on your socks, Deku."

"I – I wha?" He quickly ducked his head to glimpse at his feet, spotting the hints of plastic grains, too dark to twinkle under the table.

"Aoyama said you probably went in his room when you got back."

Fear gripped him. "I don't… remember that…" Had he gone into Yuga's room?

Tenya and Ochaco looked at each other from opposite sides of the table, concerned. Even Katsuki, who had a bowl lifted up to his face, briefly stopped shoveling at the food to glare silently.

Momo placed down her plate to give her kind opinion. "I'm sure Midoriya was very tired and mistook Aoyama's door for his."

"Not to worry, mon ami," Yuga assured him. "You are very welcome. What is mine is yours."

"I… Yeah… Maybe. I'll… try to be more careful…" He'd been next to Tsuyu's room. He remembered that. Had he been into her room, as well? None of the boys had seen her room, and everyone knew better than to barge into a neighbor's bedroom unannounced, let alone a girl's room. Even Minoru, surprisingly, did not head over to the girl's side (though, he did beg to be invited). Had Izuku unknowingly invaded his friends' privacy? Maybe Yuga's room had been an accident, but Tsuyu's? She was way up on the fifth floor, at the very end of the hall, on the girl's side of the building. What had he done? What had he been trying to do? How many other rooms had he infiltrated without their knowledge? Everyone thought he was resting when he was… he was what? Snooping? Snooping for what? Aside from the sword in Fumikage's room, and maybe Koji's cuddly rabbit, no one had anything he considered interesting to him, and nothing would be interesting enough for him to crawl through their personal space.

This wasn't good. He'd done things he couldn't remember. How would he feel if someone were to go through his stuff without his permission? Betrayed? Vulnerable? Exposed? Naked? Oh, god, what had he done?

Eijiro placed a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

The worry must've shown on his face. He gave a fake smile. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll… I think I'm still tired." He got up and took his plate to have wrapped and refrigerated for later. Now everyone was looking at him. "I think I'll head upstairs. Thanks for the food."

"But Deku, you hardly touched your food," Ochaco voiced her concern.

"Wait, wait," Denki almost shouted. "Was it my fault? It was the couch thing, wasn't it? I'm sorry, man! I really am. Honest!" He assumed Izuku was somehow upset with him.

Izuku could never imagine being upset over an accident that was thankfully avoided. "No, no – it's not that!" Izuku quickly interrupted, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm just not that hungry. Thanks, guys." He gave a final wave. They gave their own short, reluctant goodbyes.

He was being weird, he knew. He wasn't sure what everyone was thinking about him at the moment… Calm down. Calm down. There could've been simple explanations for everything. He could've pressed the wrong button on the elevator and hadn't realized it was the wrong floor until he'd snapped out of it. Maybe stressing out over his studies wasn't letting him recharge in his sleep properly. Maybe he was just the early signs of being under the weather.

The lights were still off in his neglected room. He pulled off his socks and saw the glittery ring at the heel. Off to the laundry basket they went. He'd have to clean it separately so as to not disperse the glitter in the wash. Sitting his note stack by his computer, he slumped in bed. Not as exhausted as before but still tired enough to not want to leave his bed. Coaxing himself to sit up, he grabbed his equally abandoned phone, the bar still almost all full. It hadn't been used much.

(14 missed messages) – the bar read, along with (one missed alarm). It must've been when he was sent back to the dorms. He scrolled through them.

Iida: I wish you a well recovery.

Ochaco: Hope you get better soon Deku cuz its not the same without you

Sato: I'm cooking tonight ok?

Asui: Have a good rest day kero

And so on. He sent a simple 'thanks' to each one and set his alarm again. For a moment, he was almost afraid to go to sleep. What did he do whenever he blacked out? Reluctantly, he pushed himself out of bed. Grabbing his computer chair and raising it to full height, he pushed it toward the door and let the chair's backrest press snuggly beneath the door handle. Surely this would be enough to snap him out of a dissociative state if he were to reach for the door handle

Study and lose more strength and not remember anything, or rest now and hope that would be enough for his mind to start focusing again? The first option wasn't working so far. He'd have to wake up early to catch up on the notes generously brought to him. Tucking the blanket under his chin, he snuggled into his pillow and felt his body automatically shiver. It wasn't Goosebumps from cold. Maybe he really was going down with something.

…

His heart almost shot out of his chest when he woke up to the sight and smell and sound of the courtyard at night. He knew this spot. Flattened grass and a few dirt patches. He did his exercises out here. His heart galloped, his thighs hurt so much he collapsed on his rear. Outside. At night. He had his shoes on. He felt over his pocket with shaky hands and made out the shape of a card. His student ID. He'd used his student ID to slip out after curfew.

He had been coherent enough to fetch his ID, remove the chair from its guarding position by the door, go downstairs, put on his shoes, swipe his card, and stroll out.

And he remembered nothing.

His knees shook. He breathed so harshly his exhales blanketed over the sounds of nocturnal bugs. There was a sharp pounding in his temple, around the edges of his eyes. He clutched at his head as if that would stop everything. Don't panic don't panic don't panic – go inside. Yeah. Go inside. Think there.

His hand shook as he struggled to swipe his card to unlock the door. His limbs shivered like the rush of bubbles inside a shaken soda can. It wasn't until he took off his shoes did he suspect deliria. It was pitch back outside, so everyone – minus the night owls – had to still be asleep.

Okay. Just… just grab a glass of water and head back to bed, see if his room looked any different.

"Done with your tantrum?"

Izuku flinched, freezing in place. He almost always forgot his homeroom teacher lived with them, his own bedroom and office being on the first floor, a little ways past the elevators. The man was either home earlier than everyone else for a nap, or later than ever.

Of all people to spot him in his vulnerable state... His teacher wouldn't let it slide. Why couldn't it have been Shoto? Or Fumikage? Izuku could weasel his way past his classmates. He couldn't do much against his teacher.

The man hadn't even lifted his head from where he sat on the couch, hunched over to read his open laptop, the coffee mug dangerously close to the table's edge. There was an empty plate with smears of curry and leftover grains of rice. He looked less intimidating in his casual black shirt and his hair tied back. His teacher managed to have three states: a Hero, his teacher, and some regular guy.

"Se– Sensei?" Izuku stuttered.

"It's one-thirty in the morning," Shouta said. His message was clear: it's late.

Izuku gulped loudly. "I – I – I'm sorry, Sensei! I didn't – I wasn't –."

"Midoriya."

Izuku swallowed the mess of words ready to burst out of his throat. He heard the silent command: come here. He meekly shuffled closer to his teacher, his hands wringing his fingers nervously.

His teacher stopped reading what was on his laptop screen and turn to look at him with tired eyes of the overworked man he was.

"Sensei?" he whispered once he was close enough. The man's earlier words still hung in his head. 'Tantrum', he'd said.

Shouta eyed him, then sighed and pinched the corners of his eyes. "If you're up this late, do yourself a favor. Go heat up your plate."

Izuku stood stunned for a stupid moment. His teacher knew he hadn't eaten. His classmates must've told. "… Y– Yes, sir."

The noise of the running microwave was the only sound humming through silence as Izuku heated up his partially eaten curry from earlier. Carrying the plate was more taxing than ever. His right hand was stiff, he'd noticed. His bones buzzed like he'd been electrocuted an hour ago. He'd experienced this discomfort before; usually during the cold, or the rainy season, or after over-using Full Cowl on his arms. Quick pain flashes the speed of a heartbeat. He braced through the cramping in his hand to relocate the plate and glass of tap water.

Shouta didn't say or do anything as Izuku sat down with his semi-warm plate. He was waiting for him. There would be no progress until he ate, it seemed. He was sure Aizawa-Sensei wasn't happy about him skipping meals. Better not make the situation worse, especially after he'd been caught outside past curfew. He forced himself to eat.

After the fourth spoonful, he heard his teacher sigh.

"You want to tell me what was bothering you enough to walk past me and slam the door?"

Izuku choked on his food. A chill ran up his spine. He didn't do that. At least, he didn't remember doing that… Coughing, he reached for the glass of water and chugged, dislodging the ball from his throat. Room-temperature water spilled down the corner of his lip and he quickly wiped at his chin with the back of his hand.

Shouta was waiting for an answer.

"Sensei, I…" He couldn't bear to look his teacher in the face. Not after what he'd been told he'd presumably done. Food completely ignored, he fisted the pants of his shorts and submissively kept his head down. "I… don't remember. I don't know why I went outside, Sensei… I didn't mean to break the rules." An ache pounded at his temple. His knees burned from the inside.

His teacher stayed quiet for a minute, all the while Izuku feared the worst. Knowing he was disrespecting his teacher was a nightmare. His hands, especially his right one, stung from the inside. It hurt to curl the fingers. A possible change in weather, he suspected.

Sighing, Shouta finally said, "You're not in trouble."

Izuku perked up, though it didn't hurt to be prepared to be reprimanded.

"Normally, I wouldn't let this slide," Shouta said with his arms crossed. Izuku sank back into the couch. Shouta continued, "but in your case, I received Recovery Girl's email. In addition," the man's voice remained monotone. "I noticed you weren't fully awake that morning."

So he had picked up on that.

"I've… been having trouble sleeping, sir," Izuku admitted, his voice a whisper.

"You can't fall asleep or you can't get enough of it?" Shouta reached for his coffee, keeping his eyes on Izuku, not wanting to miss a detail.

Izuku massaged the base of his finger. "Eh, it's - it's both… I can't stop falling asleep, b- but when I wake up it feels like I didn't sleep."

Shouta sipped his room-temperature coffee and placed it back soundlessly. "Show me your hand." It sounded like he'd been waiting to say that.

"Uh," Izuku stilled, taken aback by the sudden command. Embarrassed at being caught, he obeyed without thinking, awkwardly sticking his hand out.

He did as Shouta instructed, clenching and unclenching his hand, holding the spoon, opening his hand as wide as he painfully could and wincing from the pinpricks. He retrieved his hand when Shouta sat back.

"When did the pains start?" Shouta asked. It wasn't 'are you in pain' question, but 'when'.

"When I got back inside… just now." Izuku thought it over. "It's happened before. It always goes away on its own."

Shouta didn't say anything for a while. Izuku suspected he was giving him a window of opportunity to explain more so the teacher wouldn't have to pry it out of him. Izuku's headache felt like drums behind his eyes trying to pop his eyeballs out of their sockets.

"Get Recovery Girl to teach you how to massage it, or get her to direct you to a specialist."

Or he could only see doctors for emergencies and just look it up online.

Shouta continued, "Are you in pain elsewhere?"

His head, but that was just him complaining at this point. "No, sir." He messed with his fingers. Looked down. He couldn't lie and look at his Sensei at the same time.

A minute.

"You were limping," Shouta finally said.

"I was?" Izuku asked dumbly. His knees hurt. He should've realized he wasn't walking normally. "Oh…"

"Did you injure your legs?"

"Uh, no. No, just… I'm just…" Just what? "Just tired…"

While the teacher's poker was remained firm, there was a light shift in his eyes. The lazy appearance was a camouflage. "What's on your mind, kid?"

He almost didn't catch that. He was half-sure he'd heard wrong. "Sensei?"

Shouta leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Kid, you're sixteen. Unless you're Shinso, you shouldn't have eyes like this." His pointed at his own eye. "You went out there and paced in circles for almost an hour. Ten minutes more and I would've dragged you in by force."

Izuku kept quiet, stunned by this information. An hour. Was that was his legs hurt like he'd climbed a mountain?

"Look at me," Shouta ordered. Izuku reluctantly did as told out of trained fear. "If there's anything going on, I need to know," the seriousness leaked out.

Izuku detected the hints of concern leaking from the cracks on his teacher's mask. "I'm… I'm just tired, Sensei…" He'd troubled everyone enough already. Sure, he was behind in his studies, but he could catch up. He'd done it before, and was still doing it, squeezing decades' worth of Quirks into his little, biologically Quirkless body when everyone else had their childhood to train with one Quirk (Shoto being the only other exception to that rule).

Shouta sighed in what Izuku assumed was exasperation. The exhausted teacher pinched the bridge of his nose. "This gets any worse by tomorrow, you're staying home. That's non-negotiable," Shouta quickly added when Izuku opened his mouth. Jaws closing, the boy bit his lip and looked away. "This isn't punishment. Know your limits. Running yourself ragged won't do you any good. Anything happens, you report to me."

"…Yes, Sensei." He lied. There was no guarantee he'd be all better by tomorrow. Missing one day of school had been stressful enough. He hadn't even gotten the time to practice at one of UA's gyms like he'd planned. He'd have to get better, even if it wasn't a significant improvement. He forced himself to finish his plate. Starving himself wouldn't do. He grabbed his now-empty plate and got up. "Thank you, Sensei. Goodnight."

One hand holding his mug, Shouta watched his every move with slit eyes, taking note of every abnormal movement. "Get some sleep, kid. Remember what I said."

"Ye– Yes, Sensei. And thank you!" he added quickly. Somehow, he'd been let off despite the many errors he'd committed in front of his teacher. He didn't need another day of being under house arrest.

With his aching knees, he wouldn't have taken the stairs if it wasn't for the urgent need to get to his room right that second. Using the railing as a crutch, his legs were ready to buckle over once he reached the second floor. In his bedroom, he turned on the lights. His computer chair had been pulled back to where it normally stayed, in front of the computer, like nothing had happened, except the chair was still at max height like how he'd set it up against the door. He had barricaded the door with it after all.

It didn't hurt to try again. This time, it'd have to be set in a way that would require him to think harder and hopefully snap himself out of whatever took over his body. With the chair against the door, he grabbed the almost-empty trashcan and sat it on the slightly tilted chair seat. He rolled open every drawer and picked out manga volumes, novels, removed the disks from inside CD cases, and set everything upright on the floor, in front of the door, with each front cover facing various directions. It would need focus to remove everything, and if that didn't work, he hoped at least the noise of a domino effect would trigger something within him.

He couldn't afford to miss another day. Grabbing a notebook, he sat on the edge of the bed and tried – really tried – to make sense of what he'd missed in class. Words didn't sound like words, but merely shapes and sounds with no meaning. He was suddenly an animal that did not know what the concept of human language was. He caught himself almost blacking out. With him sitting on the edge of the bed, he would've face-planted. He didn't need a broken nose over all this. Rocking back and forth, he continued to read aloud, as if that would manually ingrain the notes into his brain. The less he understood, the harder his panic flared.

He understood nothing.

The urge to cry in frustration was hot behind his eyes.

He should've known it wouldn't work. When he woke up, his lights were on and sunlight passed through the curtain and heated his blanket. His was in bed on his side, the notebook back in front of the computer, as was the chair. His books and CD cases were arranged in three messy stacks on the desk. The trashcan was by the computer desk instead of at the corner of the room.

The horrifying realization sent Goosebumps ripple up his arms. He had to have done that. But he hadn't done that. The books weren't stored away, so he hadn't imagined it. Was his memory that bad? Or was someone taking control of his body? His mind?

Was it logical to be afraid of himself?

Grabbing his phone with shaky, aching hands, he checked the time. One alarm missed. His early-rising classmates would be downstairs by now. Beyond the walls, there were thuds and muffled laughter. A quick trip to the bathroom, he washed his face and hoped it made him look semi-decent. Not fully, because he couldn't hide his red-rimmed eyes and the beginnings of dark crescents under his eyelids.

He'd consult Recovery Girl later. Or maybe find it in him to approach Midnight, or the guidance counselor, Hound Dog.

Though... today seemed… different. Yes, his eyes hurt, as did his knees and back, but his hands didn't hurt as much as last night. And the fatigue, while still there, had dimmed by a thread. Maybe he had gotten some rest last night. It wasn't as bad as yesterday. He could go to class.

So he shuffled down the stairs.

"Morning," Kyoka greeted him nonchalantly with a lazy earjack wave. She was cleaning her dish by the sink, already done with breakfast. The dishwasher was open, teeth of plates visible.

"Good morning," he tried to make his voice sound normal. It didn't to his ears. With Kyoka's excellent hearing, there was no way she was fooled. He ran his stiff fingers through his hair, trying to smooth out the unruly two-nights mess with no luck.

Tenya, Yaoyorozu, Tsuyu and most of the morning kids weren't here; already heading to class, presumably. Around the dining table were the classmates that had a harder time getting up in the morning, but even Mina and Denki looked almost done with breakfast.

"Hey, Midoriya!" a still sleepy Mina managed a happy greeting.

"You feelin' better?" Hanta asked, his oversized elbow hanging off the chair's backrest.

Blushing at the attention, Izuku gave a shy nod.

"You're coming to class?" Denki asked, his voice cracking with post-sleep confusion.

"Iida and Uraraka thought you were sleeping in today," Mina explained. She'd most likely been the one to ask his friends of his morning absence.

"I'm alright. I can go," he assured her, forgetting to pay attention to his own voice. It came out dry-throated, hoarse.

"There's sandwiches for you in the fridge," Kyoka informed him, drying her hands.

He blinked. "Sandwiches? For – For me?" perplexed, he opened the fridge, and sure enough, there were four triangles. Homemade sandwiches, wrapped and stored at the front, in plain sight. Lots of yellow eggs between white bread. "Who made these?"

"Tsu. She said it's all yours."

She didn't have to. She really didn't have to. She – and whoever went along with this plan – knew he'd eat it out of respect. Tears of gratitude threatened to pool his eyes. He'd have to thank her when he got to class.

Class. That's right. They were all getting ready to leave. He hadn't even eaten yet. He was going to be late. It was usually Mina to arrive last minute, hurrying into class and slamming her desk like it was a 'safe' base at a baseball game. He'd probably make it by the bell if he ate on the way.

…

Shouta Aizawa had a headache.

They were a common occurrence, given his daytime teaching job and his nighttime Hero patrols, not to mention the assignments to grade. He dreaded going over Denki's word-vomits and typos.

He knew it wouldn't be easy. This year's class, in particular, kept giving him gray hairs. And yet, he refused to let them go. Hizashi had joked about him being a softy disguising himself as barbwire. Given his short history with past students, Nemuri was still impressed he hadn't expelled anyone from this class so far.

Truth was, the kids had potential, but lacked guidance. Moreover, they fed off each other. If one expressed confidence, strength, exceptional intelligence, calm energy, cooperation, or social skills, then they'd copy one another. They bettered one another, and he wouldn't dare disrupt that cycle.

But of course, the cycle managed to disturb itself. It happened often; one kid (usually the same problem child) would go off the rulebook and the rest jumped on the bandwagon to collectively shorten Shouta's lifespan. Maybe this was payback for his bluff at the start of the year; Karma biting him in the ass.

He was dealing with hormonally-imbalanced, Quirk-challenged teenagers. Twenty under the same roof. He had an easier time catching Villains than he did wrangling kids. Common Villains were as simple as catch-and-deliver. These students were more complicated, and he had to deal with them now that he was the only adult in this chaotic building.

Kyoka played music in her bedroom every now and then. Mina, Denki and Hanta liked to race down the stairs and he'd hear the rapid thumps overhead. Katsuki was loud when teased. Most were loud when playing video games in the common area. He'd later have to scold whoever left their gaming consoles out.

He heard the list of complaints and requests: Sensei, I melted the couch. It was an accident. Sensei, Koda said his rabbit chewed up the wallpaper. Sensei, I busted the lights. Sensei, it's Iida's birthday, can we throw a party?

And the list went on. Sometimes, he did feel like a cattle dog herding every possible kind of farm animal. It had to be done. He'd rather be told of a problem then find out on his own, especially if it was a serious matter.

And his students' health was a serious matter.

So when he ordered his class to take their seats that morning and noticed the Problem Child's slumped shoulders, dry eyes and unfocused gaze, the alarm bells in his head went off. This particular kid both attracted trouble and ran for it. The boy looked like he hadn't slept. It was a possibility. The kid worked himself till he collapsed. He'd practice after school and before curfew, and if mingling with other students who stayed up late, he'd lose track of time.

He was a fool to think it was merely sleep-deprivation. When Shouta had woken up from his catnap in the teacher's lounge for a quick sip from a juice pouch, Nemuri commented about one of his students being 'out of it' in class. He knew which one. During the first week of the school year, he'd noticed Izuku's intense note-taking habit. He never stopped writing. Even when it appeared as though he wasn't paying attention, often doodling in class; when called, he still stood up and tried, reveling he was, indeed, paying full attention. If sketching in class was beneficial to his education, then Shouta had nothing to be concerned about. So, to hear he had hardly touched his notebook… That was concerning.

Shouta checked his emails too late. Recovery Girl had sent Izuku back to the dorms with a statement that the kid was not feeling well.

It was a relief, at first. But the other students had more details they felt important to share. He'd just made it to the dorms, late, and had been on his way to dump his folder when Iida approached him first. "Aizawa-Sensei, Midoriya seems ill and has fallen asleep on the couch," he'd said professionally. Shouta had arrived home just after Izuku had gone up. More detailed seeped out of the children as Shouta took the last bit of curry specially plated for him. "Deku didn't eat this morning, either…" Ochaco had said anxiously.

If this news came from Tenya and Ochaco, than there was true concern. Those two knew the Problem Child best. He'd have a talk with the boy tomorrow after homeroom. If the kid was physically able to stand, then there was a chance he'd drag himself to class.

Then it happened. It was past midnight. The kids were either sleeping in bed, or on their phones in bed.

With his laptop on the common room table (the place dimly lit by three light bulbs), Shouta lingered in the kitchen to fetch hot coffee for a full night of reading. He saw the silent movement by the stairs. It wasn't unusual for kids to come down for a late-night snack or water or a cup of tea to soothe a nightmare. Izuku, however, hadn't gone for the kitchen. He hadn't even looked up at Shouta once, which was very unlike the boy. From day one, Shouta knew the boy was skittish, jumpy, and hyperaware. Him walking right past Shouta without a glance was… unnerving.

"Midoriya," Shouta had called in an attempt to snap him to attention.

Instead of responding, the boy started putting on his shoes, like Shouta wasn't there.

Shouta raised a brow and put his mug down. "And where do you think you're headed?" he'd asked in a lazy tone that hid his cat-like curiosity.

His words and presence ignored, the boy swiped his student ID, walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Shouta expected this from Katsuki in a bad mood. Not Izuku.

His eye twitched. Teenage emotional outbursts happened. He hoped it wasn't another squabble with Katsuki. It was unlikely, but the kids kept surprising him. Nothing was impossible with them.

Walking to the window that peered out the courtyard, he saw the boy stomp in circles, head down, frustrated hands threading through matted hair. He'd stop and stay put for some time, thinking, then go back to pacing. The boy was working through something. Shouta doubted he'd get any information out of him in that state. The boy was a ball of anxiety. There was no telling what was jumping around in his head. He'd switch between being a timid deer that needed coaxing, to being impulsive, destructive, reckless, and dangerously tactful.

While the perplexity of his thought process was impressive, it had its disadvantages. Izuku tended to overthink, overcomplicate, stress easily over simple interactions, and with a fast-paced brain, Shouta suspected it kept him up at night sometimes. Smart students were harder to keep in place. Izuku was an anomaly: being respectful to authority in the classroom, then instantly throwing all that obedience out the window at the drop of a hat.

Shouta moved his mug and laptop to the far edge of the coffee table and he sat at the couch with the closest view to the courtyard window. Izuku was inside his own head. Talking to him wouldn't be effective when he demonstrated he was not in a mental state to listen. For now, Shouta let him unwind all that pent-up frustration outside.

It would've gone faster if Shouta had retrieved his capture scarf and physically brought the boy inside, but doing so would cause the kid to either pull up his defenses, or mentally shut down. He didn't want either of those outcomes; not when he needed the child to trust his teacher with his problems.

That was another thing Shouta had to be careful with. The boy always tried to handle everything by himself. It didn't usually end well, and when it did, Shouta still had to hammer in another warning to discourage this behavior. It never worked. The boy simply found loopholes around his instructions. That was the problem with smart kids. They could outsmart him. It was mandatory for him to stay one step ahead, or he'd lose control and the formation would crumble. He'd rather not wake up to a call informing him of a missing student, an injured student, a kidnapped student, or a dead student. He'd tolerate the ruckus that vibrated this damn building if it meant the kids stayed safe.

Shouta typed on his keyboard, sipped his coffee, and only looked away to check outside. Izuku would either pace worriedly, or stop and stare at the ground. At some point, Shouta saw the flashing green of the boy's Quirk sizzle over his limbs. Shouta put down the mug and prepared to jump out the window if it escalated. But the boy stood still, and the Quirk died down. He started pacing again, never lifting his head once.

Half an hour in, and a coffee refill later, Shouta restrained himself from intervening. He tried to formulate theoretical causes. Have a list ready for when he'd interrogate the boy. Exhaustion was one part of the puzzle; physical or mental or both, he wasn't sure just yet. Perhaps he'd gotten an unpleasant call from home. He didn't know much of Izuku's family. The kids were allowed to visit their families if they made a request early, and the boy always wanted to visit home regularly. Maybe he was suffering from homesickness. Or, possibly, he was made to return out of obligation or parental command. Shouta would have to speak to Yagi if he wanted information on Izuku's guardians.

Other theories were still lurking. Maybe it really was a combination of early sickness and stress. It could've also been a confrontation with someone, most likely when the children had gone out together that day. If that were the case, then the kids would most likely hide the information Shouta was looking for. They'd stayed quiet about the Kamino plan. They wouldn't throw a classmate under the bus. They came to him with concerns for their ill friend, but nothing more to grab ahold of.

He finished grading Tenya's perfectly-structured essay and stretched, feeling the pops in his bones. His eyes pinched. How long was the kid going to keep at it? Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the tiny bottle and applied a drop in each eye. If his Quirk was needed, then he had to be ready.

Luckily, the door opened, and a tired Izuku shuffled in. He was slower, worn out. There was a slight limp to his step; a side-effect of his constant pacing, or a strain from his brief Quirk activation.

The boy startled when he'd called him over. He wasn't going to let the kid go upstairs just yet. According to the other kids, the boy had hardly eaten. He didn't have the pink nostrils of someone with a runny nose nor did he have a cough. But loss of appetite was another red flag atop the boy's general fatigue.

"If you're up this late, do yourself a favor. Go heat up your food."

The kids had informed him one of the wrapped plats belonged to Izuku.

It was a relief when the kid complied. He'd get something into his system, at least. And the kid was actually listening, now. Shouta still had so many questions, but no matter what he asked, the answer was either a meek "I don't know" or a guilty "I'm just tired. I'm sorry, Sensei." The kid had his guard up. His shoulders were hunched, protecting his neck. His knees were pressed tight. He refused to look Shouta in the eye.

"You're not in trouble," Shouta said, because no matter how frustrated he was, there was no possible way he could figure this out unless the boy told him himself. He couldn't force trust. Demanding answers would only set them both back.

Izuku looked surprised at his words.

His anger wasn't directed at Izuku, but at whatever blocked that trust – whatever made the kid not have faith in his teachers, whatever made him feel like he needed to hide what was going on. Shouta would never admit it hurt to know one of his students would rather suffer than ask him for assistance.

"I've… been having trouble sleeping, sir," Izuku admitted, his voice a whisper.

"You can't fall asleep or you can't get enough of it?" Shouta was no doctor, but it didn't hurt to know. He was familiar with irregular sleep.

The kid was oversleeping, but not feeling rested. The moodiness, fatigue, and loss of appetite elongated the list. He was fit enough to march out, but that energy was no longer there now. "What's on your mind?" Shouta tried. Tell me what's wrong. Nightmares and worries were common with this pack of kids. He'd found Momo brewing tea to nurse away the nightmare jitters at two in the morning; Ochaco having a goodnight's cry while preparing hot chocolate; a distressed Kyoka leaving Denki's room after he'd texted her over, seeking comfort; Kyoka herself playing guitar music in her room as a coping mechanism; Tenya distancing himself from the group like an old dog looking for a place to die – his way of not burdening his classmates.

It wasn't fair to them. The world wasn't fair. There was only so much Shouta could do. If he could prevent more suffering, he would. The Problem Child wasn't giving him access to where the problem was.

"If there's anything going on, I need to know."

"I'm… I'm just tired, Sensei." The kid had all doors locked around him.

Shouta was grasping at strings. He didn't mind strings. More was better. If only the boy could hand over a few more. If he could vent, tell him if anything had happened the day they'd gone out, tell him if something was happening at home – anything Shouta could work. It was hard when the kid didn't want his teacher involved.

"This gets any worse by tomorrow, you're staying home."

Izuku looked mortified at his words.

"This isn't punishment," Shouta clarified before the kid could clamp up even further. "Know your limits. Running yourself ragged won't do you any good. Anything happens, you report to me." The kids knew where his dorm room was. Shouta hardly ever stayed at the Teacher's building. He was not a people person, did not like office gossip, did not 'hang out' with other colleagues after school hours. he stayed close to where the real trouble would happen. The kids were targets, so he stayed close by. They'd knocked on his door multiple times before. They had his contact number. They knew how to reach him.

"Get some sleep, kid. Remember what I said." Anything happens, you report to me.

…

Shouta was both disappointed and not surprised when the Problem Child made it just as Shouta himself shuffled into class. He wasn't as slow as the night before, managing to run through the hallway and slide to a stop just as he crossed the doorway seconds before Shouta could.

The rest of the class looked surprised by his sudden arrival.

"Deku!" Ochaco exclaimed, hurrying over to him.

Panting, he chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. He still had bedhead. "U– Uraraka! H– Hey. Good Morning."

"I thought you were gonna rest today."

"Oh, I feel a lot better. Sorry for worrying you," he said bashfully.

Ochaco still had a worried look. She kept her hands in fists, a habit she did when excited or stressed. "You still look tired," she said sadly.

Izuku waved his hands in front of him. "Ah– I'm okay. Really!" He looked at another student. "Uhh, Asui?"

"Call me Tsu," Tsuyu told me.

Izuku struggled with it. "A- eh, Tsu," he managed. "Thanks for the sandwich."

"No problem, kero."

The entire class pretended they weren't holding themselves back from bombarding Izuku with questions. Shouta cleared his throat. "In your seats."

He didn't need to repeat his command. Chairs screeched in unison as they all sat at attention. Even the Problem Child managed to keep his tired eyes on him. Maybe an hour-long outburst and a bit of sleep had done him some good after all.

However – judging by the boy's swollen eyes – he wasn't out of the woods yet. Shouta had to keep a close eye on him.

It was impressive, how the boy managed to keep his head up despite his obvious discomfort. Eye rubbing. Forced nods. Shoulder adjustments. He soldiered through his discomfort during homeroom. The other kids were weirdly quiet, apprehensive, occasionally glancing at Izuku. It pained them, and it was clear where the wound was.

They had a physical activity planned.

"Suit up. I'll meet you lot outside Ground Gamma in fifteen minutes. Midoriya," Shouta called and the boy flinched just as he was about to get up. "A word."

Uncertainty flashed in his always-expressive eyes.

Ochaco and Tenya stopped by his desk.

"Good luck," Ochaco told him, offering a sympathetic smile and a brief wave.

The taller boy gave an encouraging nod.

Izuku gave a defeated wave. "Yeah… you, too."

The children raced out, ignoring Tenya's dogmatic reminders to not run in the halls. Shouta remained expressionless as the boy obediently shuffled over. The kid was nervous, probably expecting to be told off about the night before. Shouta had fostered kittens before, and this kid resembled the ones that hid under furniture if he looked at them.

"How's your hand?" Shouta kept his voice flat.

"My – eh," Izuku grabbed his right wrist and flexed his hand. "It's good. It's doesn't hurt anymore."

Shouta wondered how much of that was true. The boy had a scarily impressive pain tolerance. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Are you awake enough for this?" Shouta cut to the chase. "You can sit this out if not."

Izuku's eye suddenly opened wide. The worried look on his face bordered on terror at the mention of him not being involved in a physical Hero exercise. "I– I'm awake, Sensei!" He stood at attention, suddenly very alert, his fists tight by his sides. "I'll do my best!"

This Problem Child earned his nickname. Shouta blamed any future gray hairs on him.

…

Izuku knew he had to really strain himself today if he wanted to catch up. He couldn't miss this practice. It was hard enough knowing he was still not caught up on yesterday's notes. He couldn't afford to get knocked farther back.

He was the last to reach the changing rooms with his numbered suitcase. The morning's headache was now a blade sawing in and out his eye sockets. Running had aggravated his headache. He was greeted in French as soon as he stumbled through the boy's changing room.

Yuga liked to look at his reflection whenever the opportunity was there. He was fully clothed in his costume, but he lingered to marvel at himself for one more minute.

"Hey, Aoyama!" Izuku greeted back in a hurry, unaware how loud his breathing was. He started stripping so fast he was almost convinced he'd ripped a button. not enough time to check. He opened his locker and caught a glimpse of a glossy gray reflection. The sight of a fanged animal skull stared back at him. He blinked, and his tired, mirrored self blankly stared back.

"Mon ami?" Yuga's uncharacteristically confused voice came from behind him. His hands were clasped together and his frown was a small, upside-down V.

How long had Izuku stayed in front of his locker? He straightened, brushing off the unsettling image. "Uh, were you waiting for me? Sorry!" He pulled on his jumpsuit, zipped it up, and embarrassingly almost put on his mouth guard backward. "I didn't mean to make you late with me." Red shoes on, Izuku was about to head for the exit.

"Midoriya, do not forget your porte-bonheur," Yuga said.

"My…?" Izuku saw what the other boy was holding. His red utility belt dangled in Yuga's presenting hands. Izuku instinctively patted himself. Nothing around his hips. "Ah, th– thanks, Aoyama!" Flustered, Izuku accepted it gratefully. He went through his locker again and retrieved his phone to stuff into the red pocket.

Was he being so obvious his classmate felt the need to wait for him? Izuku remembered his encounter with his teacher. He'd done acts he couldn't remember doing. It was frightening to know he had no control or consent over his own body. He was half-sure he'd blacked out again when getting dressed. Had he said or done something while Yuga was right there?

"Sorry about that, Aoyama," Izuku said, just in case he'd been weird – or weirder. "I'll be more careful."

Yuga didn't look convened, but followed behind with no comment.

They joined the pack of kids dressed in colorful Hero costumes which would go through upgrades in future years. He stood next to Ochaco and she gave him a curious head tilt. He simply smiled and gave a firm nod. Everyone stayed silent as Shouta's eyes went over them, headcounting. Izuku sweated when those eyes lingered on him. The teacher sighed in a way that clearly said 'what am I going to do with you?'

"Alright. Here's how this goes: we'll have two teams. Each side will have a leader responsible for giving orders. You pick your leader. I don't care as long as it's done. Both sides have to capture the leader of the opposing side. This is about cooperation, listening, and hearing out what your teammate has to say."

All the kids seemed to vibrate with excitement.

Shouta flipped over a paper clipped to his clipboard. "Walk forward when I call your name."

…

He was assigned with Hanta, Denki, Momo, and Mashirao. Mostly long-range specialists and only a few with close combat skills, though the limit of Momo's abilities at the moment was a mystery to him.

"So do we vote on a leader?" Hanta asked, sitting on one of the many beams that lined Ground Gamma.

Ground Gamma was a maze of pipelines, industrial buildings, and beams; a mishmash of gray and silver that was hot to the touch in summer. It would be difficult to pinpoint where the other team would be hiding. And even harder for his team to stay under the radar knowing the other team had Mezo Shoji.

Izuku sat on the ground with his legs folded and hand over his mouth. "The other team has Uraraka, Shoji, Tokoyami, Iida and Todoroki…" His head pounded. If only he could block out sunlight. The egg sandwich he'd had churned in his guts. This was the worst time to feel nauseous. Hold it together. Don't slow down your team. Hold it.

"Betting they picked either Todoroki or Iida," Hanta said, folding his arms behind his head and relaxing over the beam on his back.

"Wouldn't it make more sense if they had Iida giving orders and Todoroki at the front lines?" Mashirao suggested, clipping on the earpiece.

"Whoever they choose, they might keep them hidden," Momo hypothesized, fiddling with the rounded, fist-sized sticker with the English word LEADER.

"But we'll have to keep moving around," Izuku managed to say through the pressure inside his skull. "They have Shoji. He can hear footsteps and heartbeats." He just hoped the other boy wasn't able to differentiate which noise came from who. If Izuku sacrificed his iron soles, he'd be harder to hear, but that also meant he had less kick power if confronted. "If–," he hissed, the pain stabbing at the back of his eyes. He stood up – ignoring the complaints from his knees – and went under the shade. "If we keep moving then Shoji has to keep updating his team where everyone is."

"You good, man?" Hanta used his tape to lower himself down from the beam.

The silent worry on Momo's face was the easiest to read.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Don't worry," Izuku managed to not clench his teeth. "Just a headache."

"Can you still be leader?" Denki asked, panicked.

"Me?" Izuku pointed at himself in surprise.

"Oh man, I'm torn between Midoriya and Yaoyorozu," Hanta was conflicted. "No offense," he added, looking at Denki and Mashirao.

"Nah, I'm with you on that," Denki said. At the same time, Mashirao stated, "You're good."

Momo placed a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "You're the planner, but if you're not up for it then I'll do it."

"Planner?" He tilted his head.

Denki grinned happily. "Yeah, you're, like, the main strategist!"

"I am?" A blush dusted his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's like a thing everyone sorta knows"

Izuku doubted everyone had that opinion of him. But if anyone on other team thought that way, too, then they'd assume he'd be the leader and would aim straight for him. Ten minutes was almost up. They needed to hurry before Shouta's signal. "Wait, Yaoyorozu, can you make a copy of the sticker?" Izuku blurted out before the headache could swallow his thoughts.

Momo's eyes brightened, immediately picking up his idea. "Yes!"

Shouta never said anything about the sticker needing to be visible, but there was only so much clothing on Momo to hide the authentic sticker. She placed it on the inner side of her high-collar, at the back of her neck. Izuku slapped the fake sticker on his right shoulder.

"I can join the scouts," Momo said, pulling a staff out of her palm. "If Midoriya's pretending to be the leader then we have to make it look convincing. You need to be elevated." Creating the illusion that he was the one with eyes everywhere, and still be in a position with open space to escape if cornered. "Can you do that?" she asked hopefully, keeping in mind her friend wasn't in tip-top condition.

Shouta's distorted voice came from the earpiece to remind them, "Thirty seconds."

Izuku nodded. "Yeah, I–," If it was possible to see his own heartbeat, then Izuku was sure he saw it when the whole world thrummed and heard the rushing of his own blood inside his head. The determined look on his face slipped. His vision blurred with every heartbeat. The headache threatened to push his eyes out of his skull. His hand came up to grab at his face and his body swayed to the side. Groaning, h leaned to the side and his shoulder met the metal wall of the building.

"Wah! Midoriya!"

"Shit! What's wrong? What happened?"

"Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

He was aware of the hand on his shoulder. Glancing to his right with difficulty, he found Mashirao facing one of the many cameras in the arena that played everything on the big screens just outside the borders of Ground Gamma for his teacher and classmates to see. Mashirao arms formed a hasty T, signaling a time out.

Izuku tried to speak, to lie, to say anything that would downplay how awful he truly felt. Instead, he managed to admit, "I'm gonna be sick…" because his breakfast was bubbling at his throat.

"Sensei, something's wrong!" Denki panicked, possibly speaking through the earpiece.

"I'm coming. Stay put!" Shouta ordered urgently in their ears. The man was panting and the sounds of shuffling clothes were heard through the earpiece. Izuku guessed he was running.

His head hurt. His neck hurt. His everything hurt. The whole time, he stood with his hands in his hair, pulling at the front curls as if he could yank out whatever monster was digging tunnels in his brain.

He was worrying them. He knew he was. Hanta held him up by the shoulders in case he were to collapse, and Momo made a clay pot too pretty to be used as a puke bucket.

"Aizawa-Sensei's on his way," Mashirao tried to reassure him.

There was an alternating hot and cold surge that swept through his bones. Then, he felt the familiar electrical buzz. "G– Ge' awa'h." Get away! – he tried to warn them.

"What?" a still panicked Denki yelped out.

His headache turned into a nasty explosion of knives within his skull. With a strangled snarl that didn't sound human, his rigid body reacted without his knowledge. His hands pulled at his numb hair roots. His leg muscles clumped up and he began heavily foot-stomping, an attempt to redirect some of the pain elsewhere. He was relieved when the hands on his shoulder moved away, because there was that buzz again, and this time, One for All activated itself. Stop! Stop it – I don't want this! They'll get hurt. Stop- The next foot stomp cracked the pavement beneath him. His classmates stumbled, pushed back by the shockwaves.

"Midoriya!"

"Crap crap crap crap crap–!"

"Everyone, get back!"

Another uncontrolled stomp, and small chips of concrete flipped out of the crack he'd created. His iron protected shoe made a noise similar to multiple small hammers hitting stone in unison. A ring of gray dust breathed by his iron-clad boot. If only his body listened to him. If only he could stop. Frustrated tears glossed his vision. Why won't it stop? His skull was breaking. It had to be. There was no way a migraine could be this strong.

The vibration in his bones stilled. His Quirk had turned off. The pain was still there. A familiar white scarf ensnaring him explained why his Quirk had suddenly deactivated.

Shouta was breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his temple. He'd rushed over. "Midoriya." His teacher tested how responsive Izuku was.

He'd seen him break the ground. He'd seen him almost hurt his friends. Izuku managed to let go of his hair in order to lift his face and look at his teacher with pleading eyes. Some of his consensual mobility was back. "I didn't– It wa– wasn't me, Sensei – I can't control i –it," he mumbled, grabbing every word that came to mind and hoping his teacher understood.

The four other kids lingered in the back, scared but unsure how to help.

Shouta kept his eyes on him, refusing to blink. "Midoriya, I need you to sit. Can you do that?" The calm command contracted with the man's serious stare.

"I, I…" There was a delay between him thinking of the action and performing it, but he did awkwardly plop down over the cracked pavement with his legs thrown out in front of him. The teacher's scarf kept his arms pressed tightly to his torso. The adrenaline rush slowed, and only then did Izuku realize how scared he'd been in the past few minutes.

"Stay there," Shouta instructed. His free hand pressed his earpiece. "One of you, run and get Midnight and Mic."

TBC