The Unfeasible Series

persuing: bakugo

Bakugo watched as his sleep deprived teacher gave them yet another free period. The man, ever since his return after abandoning the class, had only half heartedly taught everyone, and instead deemed most of the time as “catch up” periods. In which, students could ask more personalized questions, finish other classwork, or rest. Bakugo chose to take this time to mull over the emotions he had been feeling. 

Either Aizawa and the class were lying and Deku was playing tricks on him, acting as if he was never in class and never even went to UA, or Bakugo was mental. 

And Bakugo was not mental. 

In his own world. 

He narrowed his eyes and looked around the room, analyzing the people and conversations around him. He could hear so many at once, and yet no mentions of Deku came up in the slightest. 

“I’ve never taught an Izuku or Deku before, Bakugo.” 

The teen’s eyes snapped back to his teacher. The man was reading a book, and was about three-fourths of the way through with it. He had been reading a lot since he came back as well… Bakugo wondered what the book was and why it was taking up the hero’s attention span in massive increments. He never saw Aizawa as much of a bookworm anyways, but the pro seemed oddly invested. 

Bakugo scoffed as Aizawa pulled a face at the book. He rolled his eyes before feeling an annoyed curiosity settle in. 

What is so much more infatuating than training the next generation of heros? 

Bakugo tapped his pencil on the desk, squinting at the book cover. He strained his eyes to read the title. It didn't help that the cover was at an angle from how Aizawa was lounged in his seat. It took a couple seconds to click. The Death. 

An odd title. Bakugo concluded, writing it on the corner of his worksheet. He would definitely be checking out what it is later. Mostly because if it was so important, that the underground hero would make all his class time into free periods just to read more, it had to at least be interesting. 

Not to mention Bakugo had finished his essay a week ago and was now bored when he sat in class. 

He sat back in his seat, opting to stare out the window. He would find out why everything was fishy, and why the class refused to acknowledge that Deku was ever in their class. His gaze hardened. 

It didn't matter that Mitsuki was dodging every question about the Midoriya's or that she often sadly looked at Bakugo in confused worry whenever he randomly brought them up. 

It had been years, afterall.