Wild Goose Chase

Chapter 1

He brought his foot down again, the pile of books becoming dirt-ridden; ripped up pages. The sand scattered across them, covering the quick italic writing. It was almost saddening, though at this point the greenette couldn't bring himself to care too much.

Hours had gone into each page, quick ideas written down, extended into long essays of useful ideas and helpful hero costume advice. There wasn't any need for it, and there definitely wasn't now.

The boy gasped for air, as he scrambled back from the notebooks and collapsed onto the sand behind him, hands keeping him upright at his sides.

Izuku sobbed.

What did he do to deserve this-?

Was it just because of his existence as a whole-?

-

It smells strange, Eraser thought.

Obviously, he was at a beach used as a dump for rubbish, so it had logical reasons for smelling. But still, it smelt strange.

The man let his nose guide him, making his way through the maze of garbage. The smell seemed to be slowly fading, so he quickened his pace and continued on.

Eraser often thought about cleaning up the beach, but it always slipped his mind when he had free time, and he usually fell asleep and was reluctant to wake up. He was going to do it though,

eventually.

The man man halted to a stop, noticing a mess of paper by his feet. It seemed as if it had just finished burning, and had been stepped on multiple times. Messy writing was scribbled all over, yet it was just left there.

Why would someone want to get rid of a few notebooks so bad-?

Was it some kind of fall out between friends over relationships or something-? Who the fuck knows. People get pissed over a lot of things.

But why would someone want to rid themselves of something that had been worked so hard on-? Each page had endless writing filling it, extra notes were squeezed in at the sides of drawings. Drawings-? He shifted the paper he was staring at, uncovering it and slowly bringing it closer to examine.

Whoever this was wasn't too good at drawing, to be honest. But you could tell who the people were based on detailed features and quirks that were shown and labelled clearly.

His eyes traced over the lines of one decently clear drawing, not completely tainted by blackened white. He recognised the hair style almost immediately,

Present Mic.

His eyes traveled over to the essays besides it, reading each messy paragraph in genuine concentration. He folded the paper, shoving it in his pocket and reaching for another.

Each paper was of a new hero, descriptions situated unorganised across the page. How did this person know more about Present Mic's quirk than he did-? They lived together, and not once had Aizawa ever thought so detailed about anything to be honest.

The wind was starting to spread the paper across the beach, he began quickly scooping up each paper, the pile turning thick as each essay was placed on top.

He didn't have time to check over anything, he just needed to go home and investigate this, in the safety of his house. Alone, just like he preferred.

-

Izuku laid on his bed, tossing and turning as he tried to get comfortable. He'd been up for a few minutes, though it felt like hours.

He sneezed.

Someone's talking about him.

Hm.

"Izuku-?" His mother whispered, slowly opening the door with an audible creak. She stepped inside, her face contorted into one of worry.

The greenette rolled over to face her, his eyes underlined with red.

".. do you want to talk about what happened-? .. Are you sick, Izuku-?" She asked, inviting herself in and sitting on the edge of his bed. She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, checking the temperature before brushing his forest green curls out of his face.

He shook his head,

"Sorry-"

"You don't need to apologise for anything, baby. . How about you stay home tomorrow, hm-? I'll make some katsudon, and I'll leave it in the fridge before I go to work-!" She smiled sadly, rubbing a thumb over the boy's hand.

"Thanks, mom." He sat up, tiredly rubbing at his eyes as he gave the best smile he could muster.

She gave one of her own, a replica of her sons, as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in a for a comforting hug. He copied the action, his eyes growing droopy as the boy's blinks became longer.

He fell asleep.

739

I hate my shitty writing, but I can't do much better to be honest. I decided to end the first chapter earlier on, because it just felt like the right time to end it. Anyways, have a nice day. If you have any suggestions for how I can better my writing, please tell me :))
(nicely, please and thank you, or I will start sobbing my fucking eyes out.)