The Unfeasible Series

bakugo: death's revelation

Aizawa was lounging in his desk chair, debating napping in his sleeping bag, while scrolling through the hero chat he was added to. It was for the case, entailing all the heroes involved, their roles and basically informing them of any relevant information. 

A sudden slam jostled the pro hero out of his invested research. He reeled back, as if dodging his attacker, only to refocus and notice an odd expression on Bakugo. Aizawa regarded the teen. He was partially shaking, a little red faced--either due to running back on campus or from an emotion triggering his quirk. Aizawa quirked a brow at the teen, noting how his arm was still on the desk, He followed the limb down to the hand. A book laid between his fingers and the desk, slightly singed. Bakugo lifted his hand up, ready to talk now that he had gotten Aizawa’s attention. 

“The Death?” Aizawa asked, half just reading the title, and half just confused. He looked into Bakugo’s eyes. 

“Why the hell have you been reading this?” The teen questioned in an accusing fashion. 

Aizawa looked around the room, noting how Jiro was seemingly minding her own business texting someone. Iida was glaring at the blonde, no doubt internally berating his rude behavior. Hagakure and Mina were animatedly chatting across the room with a outcasted Sero only three feet away, not interested in the topic. 

Koda and Dark Shadow were conversing silently as Tokoyami napped in his seat. 

Aizawa’s eyes turned back to the blonde. “Because I can.” He responded, not lacking a hint of bored sass. 

That was apparently not the correct thing to say, as Bakugo turned beet red. If the underground hero could almost see steam rising from the teen’s ears. 

“Why are you so encapsulated with his writing? With his super secret life story? Deku has been missing FOR YEARS NOW,  SO WHY ARE YOU JUST NOW READING ABOUT HIM?” Bakugo spit out, voice so loud that it was bouncing off the walls. His hands were popping from the built up sweat and anger. 

But Aizawa was as still as still could be. Deku, again? He truely wondered who Deku was, and if Bakugo needed a mind healer. Either way, he was definitely going to get Bakugo to have an evaluation. 

But something else stuck out to the hero. 

“Bakugo.” He said, voice firm as he looked intensely into the teen’s eyes. He leaned forward, arms resing on the desk and back straightened. He took one hand to point at the book’s cover. He tapped it a couple times. “Do you know who wrote this book?” He asked, voice not faltering. He felt oddly calm on the exterior, while his interior was a nervous mess. Would this be the big lead he was hoping for?

“Do I know? DO I KNOW?” Bakugo shouted, throwing his hands in the air and turning on his heel to pace, footsteps loudly bouncing through the room. “I GREW UP WITH HIM!” He motioned frustratedly at the book. “HE’S BEEN MISSING FOR YEARS! YEARS! AND FOR SOME REASON MY MIND HAS BEEN DOWNRIGHT REFUSING TO ACCEPT HIS DISAPPEARANCE A YEAR AGO! DEKU”S BEEN GONE, BUT FOR SOME REASON HE'S ALWAYS HERE, SITTING AT HIS FREAKING DESK, BREATHING DOWN MY NECK, WANTING TO ANSWER QUESTIONS AND MUTTERING NONSTOP!” His hands shook as he motioned towards the direction of his desk. “BUT THEN YOU START READING DEKU'S BOOK AND THAT'S WHAT BREAKS DOWN AND RESURFACES THE MEMORIES OF MIDDLE SCHOOL--” 

“Bakugo,” Aizawa calmly interrupts the angry tangent. “Bakugo, calm down.” 

“--I WILL NOT ‘CALM DOWN! IZU AND INKO HAVE BEEN MISSING FOR YEARS! AND THEN SUDDENLY I FIND OUT HE PUBLISHED A SERIES OF BOOKS DOCUMENTING HIS LIFE--” 

“Bakugo--” Aizawa tried again, seeing the teen’s eyes water. If he paced any more aggressively, there would be a permanent dent in the floor. 

The teen snapped to Aizawa, pointing at him before sweeping his arm to point in the direction of his seat. His yelling wavered with emotions. “I THOUGHT I APOLOGIZED!” He viciously turned his pointer finger towards himself, poking his head. “I THOUGHT--I believed he was here. And that we were going to be heroes together.” He said, voice turning defeated. 

Aizawa’s eyes widened at the information. It was blatantly clear that the mind was a complex place, but the mind games and borderline hallucinations that Bakugo allegedly experienced seemed worrisome. Very much not natural in the least. Still, Aizawa stood up, and led the teary-eyed teen to his own desk. He let the blonde plop down and pulled out a blanket from under his desk. Quickly, he placed the blanket over the teen before patting his shoulder. 

Taking a deep breath, Aizawa took a gamble. “I was assigned to a Public Affairs case to check on this author. The public became worried after his disappearance over a year ago. Currently, the police and I have been attempting to find and help the author.” He said, making sure the teen looked him in the eyes and made sure he knew his homeroom teacher was sincere. 

“Deku--Izuku Midoriya. He went missing about a year ago,” He mumbled. “His mother was killed the day of his disappearance, poisoned.” Aizawa froze. The Midoriya’s… Bakugo sniffed. “He’s the anonymous author.”

Aizawa’s mind was reeling. He finally had a name for the author. He hated asking more questions than necessary, but his heart was racing. “Are you absolutely sure Midoriya is the author?” He softly asked. 

Bakugo gave the teacher an odd look. “Yes.” 

“How?” The teacher asked, needing to hear the explanation in his own words. 

“I was in the book.” Bakugo spoke, looking away from his teacher, avoiding eye contact. 

Suddenly Aizawa felt his mind back up, fully taking in the pained expression on his student's face. As everything clicked into place, the librarian's words echoed through his head. “The poor dear, he hadn’t been doing too well since.” 

"Listen," Aizawa said softly, feeling hyper-aware of how fragile the distressed teenager looked. Bakugo still refused to look his teacher in the eyes. "I'm currently working on three cases, but after the mission at the end of the week, I'm going to ask you and your parents more questions. I will reopen the Midoriya case." He said, promising the teen the only thing he could. And even though his mind screamed that his words were illogical, he felt the need to make them logical.