Deadly Truth

[]Michael[]

[] Previously, in Chapter One[]

I looked away, staring at the cat on my lap. I pet it gently, feeling its warmth sink into my cold skin.
"Michael."
I didn't turn my head at first, but after a second, I looked at Aizawa with a small sneer.
"What?"
He held up a cuff in each hand.
"Fuck no."

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"This is my condition, Michael. Put them on."
"No, I will not be putting anything on. I may be mental, but I'm not mental enough to need cuffs."
"These are a precaution. I would prefer you put them on so I can make sure my students are safe." He paused. "Safer."
"Like putting cuffs on me will make them feel safe. Usually, when there is someone in cuffs, they are being arrested for something. I haven't done anything."
He narrowed his eyes at me like what I just said was horse shit.
"And being...under your circumstances will make everyone uncomfortable."
I stared at him; then it hit me. He was talking about my awakening in the morgue.
"Well, if I had wanted to hurt or kill someone, I would have done it by now."
"That does not help convince me, Michael."
"And you offering the cuffs like their candy isn't convincing me either old man."
"Do not be difficult, Michael. We are only trying to help. Even with my little knowledge, I don't think you are a bad person, but it'll put Aizawa's paranoia at ease."
"All Might, do not intertwine with us. He is my special case to deal with, not yours. You will be asked to help when I say so. So back off."
"I am not someone's case. I'm not some file in a dusty cabinet. And I am not putting those cuffs on."
"Michael."
"No. This is harassment. I will not be putting any sort of restrictions on—in the name of my free will. I say no."
Aizawa's left lower lid twitched. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way. Hazashi, if you please."
"Who's His-ass-he—"
The faintest pressure from Mike's thumb had me going limp, my head rolling to the side and disrupting the cats' naptime. It hopped off with a disapproving meow. It was nearly impossible to keep my eyes open, let alone fight to keep Aizawa from clipping those stupid cuffs around my wrists.
When Aizawa pulled out a second box with a matching set of cuffs, a hot stone settled at the bottom of my endoskeleton. The rage I was holding in would destroy this man's career, but I fell asleep before I could go through with my last-second plan of kicking his groin.

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The same rage from when Mike knocked me out pooled back into my body like a hot cup of tea Mom used to make me when I was ill. The rage was so powerful, that I was already clenching my fists before I was fully aware and conscious. I growled and sat up, immediately looking down to see the cuffs on my wrists. My anger pooled in my gut, my hands shaking for something to punch.
"Welcome back, Michael."
I whipped my gaze to Aizawa, who sat across from me like he hadn't just ordered his roommate to knock me out. I lunged at him, not caring if I broke any of his furniture. He easily knocked me to the side and I hit the wall.
I got up and ran at him, getting knocked to the ground again, this time almost breaking the coffee table in the middle of the living room.
Mr. Buff Man and Mike ran in from the kitchen, surprised to see me running at Aizawa like a rabid dog.
He knocked me to the side again, but I used the wall to push off and fly at him. I collided with him, topping him. I landed only two solid punches before he kicked me up and off him. I landed on the coffee table, sadly not breaking it. But it seemed to break something in my anger-filled rage, momentarily stopping my plot to get my revenge for his damn conditions that were overrated.
I rolled off the coffee table and hit the floor, refusing to move after I did. I hated this. I wanted to be back in the UK in that alleyway. Now I'm stuck farther away from my siblings than I've been since ever.
"Michael."
I refused to acknowledge Aizawa calling my name, even when I felt him standing over me.
"Michael, I know you can hear me. Get up. It is not the end of the world for you."
I launched myself up and shoved Aizawa back. He stumbled to catch his balance and I kicked him to the ground. I got on top of him and pressed my arm against his throat, pushing his head back. I pinned his arms down with my knees, leaving his legs to kick pointlessly.
I glared at him.
"You brought me farther away from my siblings when you took me from that alleyway. Now, you think that forcing me to wear these cuffs against my will help calm you. Just because you don't know who or what I am, does not permit you to treat me like some unstable criminal. I know what I am doing here, Aizawa, and you will help me find my siblings or I swear to Jesus Christ and his virgin mother I will make your life a living hell."
He glared right back, but his legs had stopped kicking. I kept my guard up for the other two to step in and pull me off.
"Michael." His voice was rough from the pressure on his throat. "She's watching."
My voice barely cut through as I whipped my head around to stare at the little girl. "What?"
I looked back at Aizawa before pulling my arm away and getting off him. Instead of crying at the little girls' feet, I paced. This was all too similar.
This...manipulation. This wit to outsmart my anger. I didn't like it. I paused to shiver before picking my pace up.
"Michael, what are you doing now?"
I opened my mouth to retort but remembered his daughter was watching and shut it, resuming my pacing again.
"Eri, why don't you go back to your room? Yeah?"
"But..."
"Don't worry. He's fine, just a little upset about finding someone he lost."
"Oh..."
I glanced over and saw Eri leave back to the hallway that probably had a staircase somewhere.
"You..." I paused to focus on my pacing. "You suck."
"Michael. What are you so off about?"
"Your daughter," I said.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"She reminds me of my sister," I told him, finally stopping to stare at him. "You remind me of...someone I wish to forget."
"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"
"If you wish to be considered a terrible father to his children and wife and is hated by all three then by all means go ahead."
"Why do you hate your father so much?"
I glanced at Mr. Buff Man. "Why do you smile so much?"
"Because—"
"It was a rhetorical question. And I will not be answering your question."
"Michael. You need to sit down—now. And explain how you managed to pin me down like that."
I stopped midstep to gaze at him. "That's what you are concerned about and not why you remind me of my hopefully dead father?"
"No. I am concerned about that. But I need to focus on how you managed to pin me down like that. Where did you learn that?"
"Pure defense against people," I said bluntly, shrugging it off.
"Michael, you need to take a seat. I have something to tell you."

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"You want me to join your class?"
"Yes. I don't want you to, but it is the easiest way for me to keep an eye on you."
I rolled my eyes, back to sitting on the couch and having a narrowed eye contest with Aizawa. Mike and Mr. Buff Man sat on either side of me.
"Here I was thinking you worked at the morgue, prodding coroner's about the deceased."
"No."
He didn't care for my sarcasm and didn't prod on my attitude either.
"Look, I will help you find your family, but if you are going to be this snarky and secret about your past, I can't help you. So, either you need to tell me now, tell me later when you are comfortable, or not and I leave you on your own."
I glanced at Mike then Mr. Buff Man.
"Fine. I'll tell you later. But I want to go to that school you talked about. If it's anything like my old one, I'd much rather kill myself than step foot on campus."
Buff Man eyed me with concern.
"It's not funny to joke about killing yourself," he told me.
"It's funny to me," I retorted easily.
"Michael, it's Sunday. So, I'll bring you with me to the school tomorrow morning. How about if you can be trustworthy enough you let Mike take you to a guest bedroom to sleep in tonight?"
"Oh? I thought you guys had some kind of torture chamber in the attic or an incinerator in the basement for hiding the bodies of your enemies."
"No, that's the third door on the left," Aizawa replied, his tone too boring to make his sarcastic comment funny.
"You need to work on making your humor funny," I told him. "Jeez, it's like you're forcibly giving yourself a wedgie and saying your dead dog did it."
"And you need to work on your attitude, young man. Didn't your parents—"
"If it has to do with my parents teaching me something—the answer is no. I was taught the basics of not shutting your pants, walking, talking, and feeding yourself. Everything else—" I blew a raspberry and gave Buff Man a thumbs down. "Down the drain of knowledge, I don't care to learn anyway."
Mr. Buff Man frowned at me, though still somehow smiling all the while. It was weird.
"You, when you smile that much, it usually means you're the least happy out of everybody else," I told him. "And don't bother getting a therapist for it. They don't do shit."

[Welcome back to this beautiful story that I abandoned for a bit. (again—but I won't point this out at all) I probably won't have the next chapter written or published for you guys for a bit since I'm busy with finals and getting ready for surgery on my ankle since I fractured it in two places. (Don't ask how just know I broke it doing something incredibly dumb.) So, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and pray I work quickly to get the next chapter out.