The Unfeasible Series

interlude: the library

"Are you sure this is the correct place?" Aizawa grumbled, really not wanting to be back in the library.

Tsukauchi glanced over at the hero before huffing. "The system had no information on the family except the name. The only leads I have were the librarian and the so-called childhood friend of the Midoriya's. So yes, I know that this is the right place." The sleep deprived, grumpy detective had been awake for almost a full forty-eight hours, having been gathering information, working on a couple of cases here and there, all while also attempting to get his hands on more coffee. Unluckily for him, the office coffee machine was out and he hadn't had time to pick one up earlier. So he was very much exhausted and feeling as if he wanted to instigate a couple fights. "I assume you couldn't find any information on any of your forums and databases either?"

"Just that the Midoriya's have been on radio silence for the past few years." He gruffed.

Tsukauchi nodded from his swivel chair at the computer desk. His eyes were on the orange cushioned seats that Makisu had pointed out from her story. Aizawa shifted in his seat, preparing for a long steakout.

Usually steakouts weren't his forte. He was much more into being a spy or being undercover and infiltrating a base. But he would sit with Tsukauchi for this one. Albeit begrudgingly.

They sat together in silence for hours. And eventually, Tsukauchi gave in to his craving for coffee and decided to get dinner for the both of them. Aizawa remembered tossing his keys at the detective and watching him leave before drawing himself in The Death. He was hoping to finish it soon. And while he really did not want to read the book, especially after the last three, he knew that if he didn't read the book as soon as possible, he would never do so.

So hesitantly, he began reading.

A little over a half-hour later, the sound of pacing caught Aizawa's attention. He looked up from the novel only for his eyes to widen at the sight of the teenager. The teen was in a set of comfortable clothes, pacing around the chairs, hands in his pockets, subtly glancing at the chair every few seconds. Then, the teen sat down on one of the group, antsily bouncing his foot, twisting a strand of his hair, and glancing from the entrance to the seat as if waiting for someone to walk in and simply sit down.

"Bakugo?"

The teen jolted in his seat, his worried expression morphing into one of blatant annoyance and mock anger. And while Aizawa was used to observing anger readily on the teen's face, he also noticed a deep sadness etched into the blonde's features that wasn't always there. Aizawa looked at the teen, observing the slightly rushed appearance, wrinkled clothes, messy hair, dark eyebags. If the pro hero was one thing he was observant. And if his hero training and psychology classes were to be taken into account, Aizawa was a phenomenal human reader.

"What's wrong?" He asked the teen briskly.

Bakugo bristled, huffing and keeping his gaze away from his homeroom teacher. "It's none of your business--"

Aizawa cut him off. "Your last essay score was five points below Iida's. As the stagnant top of the class, you've dropped your scores in the last test. Not to mention other heroes have noticed your behavior in class changing as well. Midnight said you've been nodding off frequently, though not due to her quirk. Mic said you've been looking off into space more often than usual. Even," Aizawa grimace, hating to bring up the oaf, "All Might has mentioned your lack of desire to pursue rigorous training." He spoke up. He set the book down, went up from his seat by the computer and made his way to the cushions. He was only a few steps away but the walk seemed oddly ominous. As if the air around Bakugou was familiar. "I was going to contact your family to check in later this week, but now seems like a better time. So what's the matter?" Aizawa tried. He sat down in a chair next to Bakugo, still maintaining a decent bit of space away.

For a moment, the blonde teenager seemed to softly contemplate his options, his facade falling ever so slightly. But just as quickly, his walls went back up. Small explosions popped across his palms before Bakugo shot up out of the chair. The teen glanced at the door, fingers twitching stiffly before stomping away. "I don't have to be here. I don't have to tell you anything. He isn't here anyways." He had mumbled gruffly, almost inaudible as he began to walk out.

Aizawa watched as one of his problem children angrily strode away from him. The sound of loud footsteps rang through the air of the nearly silent room. From the corner of his eye, Aizawa noticed a despondent Makisu watching the teen leave, a look of pure sadness coating her face as her eyes followed the shaking teen.

The soft voice of Makisu's last conversation with the detective and hero rang through Aizawa's head.

...it wasn't until a little under a month ago that his childhood friend began popping up again...

...he hasn't been doing well at all...