All the breath rushed out of him at once, Izuku stared, seemingly fish eyed, at a boy, so eerily familiar to a friend he once knew. The blond hair, the perspective eyes. The world around him seemed muted, rushing around him, like a tidal wave sweeping him off his feet. A piercing ringing seeming to be echoing in his ears, drowning out any other noise to be had. The boy, who was talking to his friends, a smirk on his face from his antics ,scoffing at their jokes, turned his head, presumably to say hello to Aizawa. His smile dropped when he saw Izuku.
For a second, the world stopped. For a second, the birds in the trees stopped chirping, people stopped walking, and Deku's heart stopped beating.
Well it seemed like the world stopped
An uncanny look came over the boy's face, like a word was on the tip of his tongue, but he forgot the sound, or the taste of a treat from years gone by. He didn't say a word, casting one last glance to Izuku before turning back to his friends.
"-riya? Are you ok?"
A voice forced Izuku from his mind, and he gasped, stumbling, tripping over his own feet and drawing in heaving breaths of air.
"I'm fine, lets just get this over with." He forced out, walking farther into the classroom and throwing himself into Aizawa's chair, hiking his feet up onto the desk. Aizawa, deadpan stare on his face, gestured to a chair in the midst of the class with a flourish. "If your in my class, your one of my class, I'm sure you can manage Midoriya."
Resentfully, Izuku drew himself up from Aizawa's desk, and walked to his desk sullenly, hands clenching into fists as he slid into the desk behind the boy.
The next hour and a half seemed to drag on like molasses, Deku stared vacantly at the back of the boy's head, half forgotten memories bouncing around his head.
"̸K̸a̵c̵c̸h̸a̶n̷!̷ ̸A̸r̴e̴ ̷y̴o̶u̴ ̷c̵o̷m̵i̸n̷g̵ ̸t̷o̷ ̷m̴y̶ ̸h̷o̸u̸s̵e̶ ̵l̸a̶t̷e̸r̷?̴ ̵M̵y̶ ̸m̴a̶m̷a̷ ̷g̷o̸t̸ ̴m̸a̸n̷g̴o̵ ̸s̶a̴g̷o̸ ̴t̵o̶d̷a̵y̴ ̵f̵o̷r̵ ̶d̷e̷s̸s̷e̵r̶t̶!̷ ̵S̸h̵e̴ ̶s̷a̷i̷d̷ ̴w̵e̶ ̸c̶a̵n̷ ̷s̴h̸a̷r̶e̶!̷"̴
Ķ̸̭̆̈́a̵͓̬̎͝c̶͍̬̉ċ̴̻h̶̫͊̏a̴͔͂ņ̷̦̑̍ ̴̱̊͘g̷̩̭̋i̷̼̭͑̐m̴͚̀̃m̸͕̏̒ḙ̴̏ ̴̯͑m̵̡̾ÿ̸̬͠ ̵̙̦̀̆f̶͔̤͑̓ï̴̫̮͌ǵ̸̭̆ȕ̷̧͓r̵̟̚i̴̢̳͑̍n̸̩̽͒ͅĕ̶͉̻ ̵̜̘̄b̷̥͗̑a̴̺͍̒͊c̷̞̅͛ͅk̴̈́̍ͅ!̷̟̂ ̶̛̺̑Ý̴̢͍̀o̷̗̟͑̌u̷͚̎͐r̷̙̰͝ ̵̫͍̒ḅ̷͗ê̷̛͍͜i̷̼̙̇n̸̫͉̈g̸̘͍̀̌ ̴̻̟̋̇m̸̟̪̈́͝e̸͕͍͑a̷̰͉͋ń̷̥!̴̟̀ ̷̩͙͋͌
"̵͍͍̩̘̤̥͖̬̩̄͊͗̑̾Ķ̵̡͔̗̪̲̩̳̭͖̠͍͛̏ͅà̷͙͎͚̓͌̏̂̅̃͐̆̃̚̚͘͝c̸̛̙̣̙͌͑̓̂̾̋̏͆͂̐́͘͘͝ç̵̘̺͉͎͖̄͒̏̈́̒͊͑̌̀̃̄͐h̶̨̻̯̭̺͍̙̼̞͙̽͒͝͝ͅͅͅạ̵̢̛̲̰̮̾̽̑̌̐̾͘͠ͅͅn̵̢̲͉͈͙̯̬̣͇̤̬̝̫̋́̎́̉̊̍͂̚͜ͅ?̸̢̭͚͎̬͎̰̹͈̗̭̫̼̙̠̽͗͌̎̀̒̒̂͝ ̶̡͈̯̘̗̞̂̀͑͋̐͌͒̅͗͘T̶͕̙͉́̈́̄̍̅͐͛̄̔͛̎̿̕̚͠h̶̛̪̭̘̼̥͓̅̇̔̀̂̈̍̍͂̉̔̕̕͝ḙ̸̟͕̤̙̼̦̈́̐͑͝ ̵̨̗̣͇̝́͗D̵͇̟̽̈́͠o̶͖̹̝̙̭̳̩̩͔͐͐̆̈́̄̽̄́̒̈̎̀̑c̸͖͓̾͐̃͒̓̄̇̓̀̇̂̚t̴͔͉̤̼̬̣̣͖̗͍̱͂̀̑̄̊̐̅͜͠õ̶̺̜̃̌̋̓́͋̽̈́͒̉͠r̷̲̔̎̊̽̆̍̍̀̀̋̿̕͘̚̕ ̸̛̻̖̅͝͝t̵̤̭͖͆̀͗̅̑̓̈̈̇̀̄͘̕o̸͇̪̬̪̫͇̠̽̀̏̀̑́̐̓̃͜͝l̷̡͖͙̱̻̖̘̯͍̙̖̻̳͇͈̉͋̒̅ḋ̷̛̛̙̥̝̳͔̮͎͖͎̜͉̼̝͑̈̎ͅ ̵͇̲̮͓̺͍̗̍ͅṁ̸͈̺̯̹́͛̾̌̅̇͆̃̃͒̕̕͝ȩ̵͙̘̬̭̰̞̘̱͙̩̞̜̹̂͌͐͌̓̐̅ ̶̡̢̢̗̳͕̤͕̞̩͓̱͎̺͐͒͂̀͘ś̷̝͓̺͔̪̣̱͔͚͍̪͚̥̠̒̑̈͂̉ờ̸̢͇̖͔̖̹̹̻̺̝͌͐̆͆́̇̽͛̿͋͊͘͜m̶͇̥̙͔̗̮̟͙̯͇̬̭̞̲̭̅͗̔͒̈̓̑͒̑̕͝é̵̡͉̣͎͍̲̦̘̠̥̤͑̈͆̈́͆̇t̸̢̧̖̞͚͉̺̠̝̙͑̅̋̋́̉̍̃̽̐̓͝͝͠h̸̛̤͇̞̭̬͉̼̲̬̦͍̮̾̅͑̋̃̽͛̑̈́̀͜͝͠i̷̛͎͙̲͌̋̄̔̇̍͂͊̕͠ņ̶̘̮̰̫̫͕͂̀̓͒̐̆͝͠͝g̸̜̔̀͋͆͘͝ ̷͉͙̲͎̰̖͕͚̦̥͚͌̃́̋͋̅̂̓͐̄̑͘s̶̢̧̛̺̹̫̙͔̐͆͊͒̍̓̈́̕͠č̷̮̝͓̦͂̈́͘͝a̸̛̛̙̬̪̳̜̼̒͂͋̅͂̔̚r̸͕̮̹̼̞͓̮͎̱͎͕̓̌̌͜y̵̞̘̭̿̊͒̉͊͐͑͠ ̴̰͊͑̓͛͐̊̔́̏̿̚͝͝͠ť̶̮̩̒͋͝ö̶̝͔̜̗̗͔̘́ͅḍ̵̜̫̖̮̬͉̯̭͈̀̾̂̀̃̑͋̄̔̕͝ä̷͉́́͑̍̎̂̾͌͒̌͆͋͜͝͠ý̵̡̱̦̪̜̖̰̬̮̫̰.̵̠̖̹͎̲̼͚̱͊̈"̸̨̋̾̉̅́́̑́͘͘͝
"̷̨̨̹̠̹͓͉̱̹̥̹̹͖͕̄́͋͜Ç̸̢̧̡̦̣̺̟̝͎̩̟̫̹̖̩̻̮͊̾̑͝ả̵̢̗̤̬̺̜̟̫̤͖̩̇͆́̾̀̀͌̈́͂̾́̿́̍́̔̎̈̈́̀͆̚͜͠͝ń̶̡̠͚̝̤̠̝̰͓̠͙̦̍͛̏̽̾̄̌͆̈̈́́̕͝ͅͅͅ ̸̡̧̨͚̳̟̱̝̠̞̼̦̳͕͕̫̳̖̙̞̲̫͙̉̓͜͜͜ͅw̸̖̬̦̥̥̫̞̭̬̃̑͂̀̒̄̎͜ͅe̸̢̳̙͚͖͍͈̞͈̗͓̙̜̯̪̒̏͆̓͌͋̇̏̑̉̓́̾̓̈́̍̅͊̀͐̂͒̿̏̕͠͠͠͠͠͠ͅͅ ̵̠̆͗̍̋͌͗̓̈́̈́͊̂̇͗̎̈̀̔̋̐̈͒̃͗͘͝s̸̨̡̨̛̩̭̮̣̪̙̳͔̭̲͙̲͉̙͚͉̟̬̹̣̝̱̖̰̾̀̏̎̽͌̃̆̎̽̑̋̿̀̃́̏̈͆̄̈́̚͘͜͝͝͝t̶͕̮̺̭͍̼̻̦̜͎̝̟̣̻̆̀̑̒̒̏͐ï̵̧̧̧̨̛̛̛̛̩̰̗̱̝̺̰͚̖̘̱͖̰̤̥̠̰̺̭̹̦̞͉͖̋̍̈́̋̏͑͐̈̀̇̀̀̽͂̊͒͘͜͠͝͝ͅͅl̴̡̨̛̠̙̞̫̣̜͔̤̱̣̤̼̖̤̪͍̝͎̭͉͙͚̓͆̑̀̊̈̈́̎̐͛̾͂̈́̇͋́͌͛̅̕͜l̴̢̢̛̛͈̘̪̻͎͚̝̠̗͚̹̙̙͕̖͎̼̹̈́̀̐́̈́̿̑̌̂̿̈́̽͌͛̾̓̚ ̴̧̳͙̖̻̠̹̪͔̰͉̠̱͈͓̅̈̂̓̅̋̏̂̒̈́̒͆͆̕̕b̵̢̡̛̫̥̬̭͖͍̝͚͖͍̺̜̼̻͇̌͊̉͂͊̆͑̈́̈̄͋̄̐̏̀̊̂́̊̔̂̍̕̚͘͠͠͝͠͠͝ę̵̨̨̛̣̳̦̝̣̭̱͈͚͙͇̤̹̳͍̪̪̥͈͉͙̗̑̀̅͐̽̈́̍̂̈̌͒̾͘͜ ̷̙̦̺̲̙͎͚̣̫̦̥̹̮̼̝̌̓͌̽̌̑͊͑̚̕͜f̸̨̛͖̩̺̞̜͇̳͚͉͑́̍̄̃̂̔̽̀̈́͒̋́͌̒̌͗͐̔̀͘͘͠͝͠͠ṟ̸̢̝̝͖͇̹̝̻̜̳̪̜̖̤̫̜̫̠͙̬̕͜ì̴̧̨̢̲̗̬̳̤̰̗̻͈͙̥͔̣͎̜̘͚̭̜̠̹̮̟̝̣̘̼̝͊̽͒̈́̉́̾̾̔̃͂̽̄̎̕͝ͅe̵̡̙̽̒̓̽̓̏͗̾͂́̄̀̈́͗̉́̐̄̊͑̃͗͠͝͝ͅn̷̡̨͔͍̪̯͔͈̬͇͕̱̻̣͉̠̺̩̐͊́̊̍̈̓̀̌̈́̄̎͑̈̃̂̎̆͂̐̒͘̕͝d̸̨̨̗̜̮̗̖̈́̌̆̒͌̏̈́̾̓̅ş̴̢̫͈͖͙͈̫͖̠͎̰̞̱̬̥̺͖̹͚̬̤̌̎͜͝͝ͅ?̷̢̧̧̢̳̻͕̯͓̥̳̖̗̱͕͚̦͕̳̯́́̈
"Hey. Moron. Hello? Are you braindead or something?"
Deku flinched away from the hand on his shoulder, his eyes snapping up to meet vermillion ones. Before looking around the room at students gathering up their belongings and leaving the classroom.
"Wh-what time is it?"
"Lunchtime dumbass. We had an extended class period."
"Oh, uhm. Thank you," He eased his way out of the boy's grip "I guess I'll be going-"
A hand pressed down firmly on his desk, effectively caging him in, and the weight of a stare rested heavily on his head.
"Actually, I have some questions to ask you. And I don't care if you don't want to answer them. "
All of Izuku's breath rushed out of him, his eyes frantically landing on Aizawa, asleep on at the front of the class, before coming back to the boy blocking his way.
A/N
ahahhaahaahahahaha
did i miss the deadline?
sure
are yall gonna complain about it
better not 🔪
this chapter was supposed to be substantially larger, as i promised breadfish
(breadfish say hi)
so you will not be left with a cliffhanger for too long, part 2 will be published tommroow
im pretty sure
once again thank you for reading, comments = faster uploads so gimme some love. im an attention whore
have a nice night everyone, i will see you soon
YOU ARE READING
Straitjacket
FanfictionAizawa and Nezu are trying to get info about the LOV from a patient at a mental hospital. But little do they know, this inmate holds more secrets than they could've imagined.
