Little Miss Aizawa | Dadzawa [BOOK 2]

Chapter 9 - Barely Alive But Breathing

He wasn't sure where he was when he finally came round. 

A fraction of light was hitting the wall opposite him when he finally found the will to crack open an eye. He immediately shut it again, a drowsiness seeping into his very core almost too much to resist. He was so tired.

He moved his head to the side, pleased to find he didn't scrape his neck along cold, hard cement like he had grown used to. Instead, he felt the warm embrace of a pillow. He pressed his cheek into it, savouring every moment of heaven before he would be dragged back into the dingy cell he'd learned to call home. 

But that moment never came. 

When he blinked his eyes open, he wasn't met with grey walls and numerous other bodies, all sprawled out and half-dead. No, his eyes slowly focussed in on a soft, white wall decorated with band posters. He swears he recognises that one with the-

"Oh, you're awake."

Where was that voice coming from? And why did it feel so familiar?

He closed his eyes again and listened to the sound of someone moving about the room. For some reason, his shoulders didn't tense at the movement. He rolled over in the... bed? He was going with bed; it was too soft to be the floor and too spacious to be a couch. He ached down to his very bones, but found enough energy within him to flip over, dragging the covers with him. 

"Hey, relax. We don't want you moving too much. We don't know what's hurting yet." The voice said again, this time much closer. 

It was a test of strength, but he managed to prise his eyes open again. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the silhouette of someone arranging something beside him out the corner of his eye. He twisted his neck, groaning as it ached, and looked up. 

A mop of green hair came into focus first, and then a bright smile. Lastly, the person's eyes broke through the blurriness of his vision, their gazes meeting. 

"Hey." The boy said. "How are you feeling?" 

He gazed blankly at the boy for a moment, then slowly, like a leaky tap filling up the tub, things started to come back to him. 

"'Zuku?" God, he sounded worse than he felt. 

"Yeah, that's me." The boy - Zuku? - smiled at him. "Do- Do you know who you are?" A subtle panic started to form across his features, despite his best attempts to mask it. 

He took a moment to think. "Hitoshi." He rasped, his throat grating in protest. 

"That's right. At least there's no memory loss." The boy muttered the last part as information kept arriving in drips and drabs.

He furrowed his eyebrows and release a heavy sigh. "Izuku." He said more confidently. He hadn't said that name in a long time.

"Yep." Izuku smiled at him, warm and comforting. "Do you know where you are?"

He took another, more conscious look around the room, and an unparalleled relief filled his chest. "Home." He said, the makings of a smile working at his chapped lips. 

"Yeah. Home. Finally." He brushed off the last of the comment, choosing to take in the sights of his long-lost bedroom. He's missed this. Everything from the tatty rug to the curtains to the-

"Where are the others?" He suddenly asked, wondering why Midoriya was the only one to greet him since he came back from... from...

He shot up in bed, every fibre of his being screeching in protest. 

"Where is she?" 

Midoriya took a sudden step back, hands raised in surrender. "Hey, hey, relax she's-"