{ 𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕖 }

          ‘ ‘    busier  than  i’d  like  .    ‘ ‘  he  heaves  out  the  words  with  a  sigh  ,  finally  able  to  settle  ,  lips  then  attaching  to  a  straw  .  he  looks  as  exhausted  as  the  words  sound  .  dim  lighting  reveal  more  than  others  are  allowed  to  see  ,  sagging  shoulders  and  closed  eyes  belonging  to  someone  that  couldn’t  be  the  hero  present  mic  .  a  second  after  ,  and  he’s  back  to  what  one  would  expect  .  straight  posture  ,  lively  eyes  ,  and  a  grin  on  his  face  as  if  the  earlier  expression  hadn’t  occurred  .  ‘ ‘  -  but  !  it  appears  that  i  might  be  able  to  switch  patrol  hours  with  someone  else  this  weekend  !    ‘ ‘  

          green  is  filled  with  joy  as  he  gestures  ,  the  want  for  freedom  making  itself  known  .  were  he  thinking  about  his  words  as  he  said  them  ,  he’d  have  to  wonder  how  pathetic  he  was  to  want  to  take  a  break  .  what  did  shouta  think  about  it  ?  did  the  other  man  think  him  weak  for  wanting  to  do  nothing  but  sit  down  and  do absolutely nothing  ?  an  exhale  .  he  sat  back  down  ,  pulling  his  drink  back  close  .  hizashi  raised  an  eyebrow  ,  and  swallowed  before  speaking  again  .  ‘ ‘    do  you  think  you’ll be  free  ?  or  do  you  not  want  to  do  anything  ?    ‘ ‘  

        maybe  he  was  eager  .  entirely  too  much  so  .  shouta  was  used  to  it  though  ,  he  had  put  up  with  him  for  this  long  .  it  wasn’t  as  if  he  were  operating  under  the  assumption  that  hizashi  didn’t  want  to  spend  any  time  with  him  .  they  were best  friends  .  (  possibly  more  ,  but  that  was  a  hope  that  had  been  buried  for  years  .  )

Of course Hizashi is busy, he always was, always bordering on the thin line of overworking himself and that only lead to more frankly disconcerting lectures for Aizawa, the man who thrived on sleeping far too long. But he never thought he’d hear the man say he was ‘busier than he would like.’ That just seemed preposterous.

“That’s good,” he commented regarding the change of patrol hours. His own were ridiculous and it was truly half the reason the man slept like the dead when he got the change to really lay down. Sometimes he forget that others had to do the same and in Hizashi’s case, it was on top of already stressful hours.

Perhaps against his better judgement, he waved for the waitress to come refill his glass. He had already informed his friend he wouldn’t be taking it easy tonight since they hadn’t been out in so long and it wasn’t often he got the chance or the time to be this frivolous. He may as well make it enjoyable.

@erxser

Yamada couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. He knew he messed up in the fight but he didn’t think- no. No. It couldn’t be real, but. But he can’t speak. He’s trying. He’s been yelling- trying to yell, for the past hour. Sitting in his house, screaming- face red and puffy from crying, blood dribbling from his mouth from the strain of trying something he can’t do, using something he can’t use.

Something he used to be able to use. He feels it in his throat- his quirk straining to use his vocal cords but can’t. It feels like a ball in his throat, growing with every use- like a balloon about to pop. Straining, wanting to be used-

But it can’t. His vocal cords are wrecked. He can’t use them.

And since he can’t use them his quirk can’t be used.

And without his quirk…

He’s nothing. No one. Another bystander on the street. Another casualty in the books.

He’ll lose everything.

His job. Jobs.

Hell, he won’t even be able to teach.

And why would his friends stick around? He’s nothing, useless. He doesn’t have anything going for him. He can’t talk or laugh or- be anything. Just sit there and smile. Sign. He can’t ask them to learn sign language for him. That’s too much to do, to ask of them. All for someone useless.

All for someone without a reason to live.

All for someone who lost everything- and can’t do anything.

Can’t hear. Can’t talk.

Useless. Fucking useless.

He collapsed to the floor, sobbing silently into his hands. Unaware of the guest coming into his home. Not caring.

He just wants…to be alone.

To make his heart stop pounding…beating…

Not coming over after the events that had transpired to visit his friend was completely out of the question. As soon as Aizawa was able to, he found himself making his way over to Mic’s apartment. He knew he would need someone and speaking from personal experience, staying at home alone after a traumatic event was never good for one’s mental health.

When no response came from his knocking, he fumbled into his pocket where he kept the key to the apartment just in case of times like this. Perhaps it was intrusive to let himself in like this when it was possible Mic was just out at the time, but something felt inexplicably wrong.

“Mic?” he called out into the room upon entering, not wanting to surprise the man should he actually be inside.

Wary eyes scanned the dark room before they finally landed on the mound barely visible on the floor, to which the teacher moved closer quickly and dropped onto his knees. His hands reached out and grabbed the man’s shoulder, gently shaking him.

All Might remained patient, knowing how important it was for those who sought advice from him. The boy looked unsure for a moment before covering it up –rather well, All Might noted– and finally speaking. The concerns the boy raised was one that he’s heard before of course, a topic that came up over and over again in discussions and criticisms of hero culture.

Ah, how to approach this delicately…

“There are a lot of facets to the job of being a Hero, and not every Hero can do everything.” Different specialities, talents, quirks…while All Might himself appealed to the hearts of most, he also wasn’t the right role model for everyone. It’s why diversity was so important.

“A hero’s work isn’t only about saving people’s lives! It’s also about inspiring people, and giving hope; to set a good example.” All Might grinned widely, standing a bit taller. To save not only someone’s lives, but also their hearts; it was the essence of the symbol he had aimed to become.

“But it doesn’t mean that’s what you have to strive towards. There are plenty that feel the same as you. What’s important is that you find your own way of being a hero, and contributing how you think is best. That you’re asking these questions is a step in the right direction.”

To say he had expected such a well thought-out response in return to his inquiry would be a lie as the teen just stared at the man dumbfounded, the slightly widened eyes a testament to his shock. What had previous been festering annoyance in the back of his mind, not originating from All Might or even the cocky heroes he disliked, began to melt away at the man’s words.

His split knuckles tightened into fists at his sides, head lowering in almost shame that he would even bring up such a thing, to even think it, and he quickly raised his arms to fold them across his chest in a defensive manner.

“I haven’t even graduated,” he murmured under his breath, his tone considerably lower than before now that the wall had been broken down.

Shouta told himself he wouldn’t cry, not here in front of All Might no matter how emotional he felt; there was only a few in his life that had witnessed it and he wouldn’t allow this man to be one. “But I’m already no respectable hero.”

He was not kind, not in his eyes; sometimes he wondered why he was even there when he had no drive, when he couldn’t treat his friends with respect. Seeing the level of selfishness some in his class kept despite going into a career of self-sacrifice made him think he was doing this all wrong. How was he meant to be a hero?

@erxser | continued from here

      “oh !! are you alright then ?” 

      Toshinori rarely saw any of his coworkers arrive at work with blood on them. The man reasoned that Aizawa would have had time between hero work and teaching to clean himself up, so something else caused this. It was possible he was overanalyzing, but he wanted to make sure his colleagues were okay.

“I got in a bit of a scuffle on the way to the school this morning.” He could have just as easily lied, but something felt a bit too wrong about lying to Toshinori, especially when the man was only inquiring about his health.

Aizawa had truly thought he was being quite unnoticeable, but it did appear that he hadn’t noticed the few droplets of blood that had ended up on the white fabric of his scarf; that was until he looked down to see exactly what Toshinori was referring to.

The hero stood awkwardly in the middle of the teachers’ lounge, a cup of coffee in one hand, not really sure how to reply seeing as he hadn’t expected to be confronted. He was sure he had cleaned up his busted lip before he entered the building. Unless he had been injured in some other spot he hadn’t noticed.

      「✧╳ █ ▌eyes sharp, shota observed as the man drew closer and a feeling of unease grew in the pits of his stomach. he held fast, however, as he wasn’t sure if he should even be WORRIED. if this WAS u.a., then whoever this was wouldn’t been able to get in without clearance. what if he managed to SNEAK IN? was a thought that worked but was ultimately shut down from his CONFIDENCE in the school’s defenses. STILL, this doesn’t mean he wholly trusts the stranger. no, he doesn’t TRUST HIM AT ALL. too much was going on and it wasn’t adding up and each new wave of NAUSEA didn’t help in the slightest. but something started to REALLY confuse him: the man’s SUDDEN change in expression.  he know looked damned near just as confused as aizawa did! which DIDN’T MAKE SENSE. if this stranger WAS a teacher, then why would he be surprised to see a student? what caused the instantaneous change in demeanor anyways? 

      under the other’s gaze, the boy shrunk into himself some; wanting to shy away from those beady eyes. it was almost like he KNEW something shota didn’t. that in itself made him even more anxious. then, his expression CHANGED AGAIN and it left the boy even more confused. was–was that wariness? CAUTION? BEWILDERMENT? SHOCK? those were the things HE should be feeling and he was! but why this man? why did it look like HE was feeling those things too? it only reinforced the idea that the other knew something. shota HATED that feeling; the feeling of someone knowing something that you DIDN’T. that feeling–THAT IRRITATING FEELING– only made him want to hear an answer from the stranger even faster. once he finally got one ( sort of ), however, was not SATISFYING ENOUGH. 

      narrowing his eyes more with scrutiny, he was almost inclined to SCOFF at the response. quite AMBIGUOUS, it was. however, something stopped him from doing so and he ended up just STARING; ANALYZING. that inkling in the back of his mind TINGLING and SCRATCHING; trying to get a footing among the rest of his racing thoughts. he shifted in his stance, grip tightening around his waist but his focus never WAVERED from the other’s face. then, a thought PRICKLED above the rest of his thoughts and he SWIFTLY moved his attention back to peer out the window; staring intently at the dorms. w-what if he was hit with a quirk? what if it was some kind of DISPLACEMENT BASED QUIRK? what if—

      A CONNECTION WAS FINALLY MADE and his narrowed eyes WIDENED with the SHOCKING REALIZATION. head turning back to face the other, the expression etched into the boy’s face MIRRORED the man’s own previous expression of CONFUSION. what. the. HELL. no, this was too much for him to process! instinctively, he took a hesitant step back as the older…HIM moved closer; unsure what he should do now he had figured it out. no wonder he felt like he didn’t belong here because he DIDN’T! HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. should he even be SEEING his future self ( he really needed to get yamada to stop making him watch sci-fi movies with him)? PANIC started to bubble up in his throat ( or was that vomit? ) and his hand was again placed over his mouth. inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and pushed it back down while trying to CALM HIMSELF back down. once he was certain he had control, he opened his eyes and slowly started to remove his hand from his mouth. hesitantly, shota started; voice low and uncertain, 

                 ❝ i FEEL ill, but i think it’s due to whatever quirk i was hit with…❞ the only explanation he had, really. he’d FELT FINE the whole day and RARELY did anything ever make him feel this NAUSEATED. though, he didn’t even know TIME DISPLACEMENT QUIRKS even EXISTED and he was still having a hard time processing all this information. so, he prompted another question of his own; tone still low, ❝ are you really me? ❞」

In the hesitation that followed, Aizawa knew what was going through the boy’s mind as it had already gone through his own a few seconds before. Time displacement was not something he had heard of in real life, never in a quirk; it was always something from fantasy books and while many abilities from the genre had come to life, that wasn’t one of them.

Unsteady eyes looked over the younger once more, too bewildered to react properly and comprehend what had to be the truth. The teacher shifted uncomfortably on his feet at the inquiry, solving to shove his hands into his pockets and own up to this situation since it had been so easily figured out.

“I believe so,” he stated calmly, his expression morphing back into one of borderline disinterest because it was the only way to keep panic from rising. This did nothing to quell the nausea forming in his own stomach though.

What should he even do? It had been quite a while since he had had to wonder what action he needed to take. How should one react to this? Was it even okay for his younger self to see him now? He hadn’t watch many fantasy movies in his time admittedly, but the reoccurring theme was that the same person from different times shouldn’t meet, lest it offset the timeline.

Well...nothing seemed to be imploding currently even though they had met and both identified each other as themselves. The school was so silent, you could hear a pin drop in the hall, the only sound he could pick up on being their breathing.

However, the student before him was still unwell and he couldn’t ignore that regardless of the situation. He was the adult and he had to deal with what was happening now. The other faculty that still remained in the building needed to be made aware of this new arrival so that they could try to figure out how to fix it, but only after his younger self wasn’t about to be ill.