Painful {Aizawa/Izuku Platonic story}

Chapter 3

———-

"You scared me shitless, kid."

"A-Aizawa-Senpai! You cursed!"

Izuku looked quite offended at his "potty-mouth", but Shouta couldn't care less. His off-handed comment was true, though.

He took his spoon, dipping into the miso soup and eating it.
He was eating breakfast now, with Izuku right across from him, big green eyes looking at him with the same meek lamb-like expression he wore before. He was apologetic, his nervous mannerism (which Shouta picked up on earlier) surfaced; eyes darting around as he bit his pink bottom lip. Was this really the kid that told him that fucking Hell said hi to him? What kind of freaky quirk does he have?

"Humor me Izuku." Aizawa muttered, taking a bite out of a piece of ham. He really, really didn't want that shit to happen in the middle of the night.

"What was that?," he swallowed the last drop of water from his cup. "Some kind of quirk?"
Immediately, Izuku started rambling; which Shouta took as an opportunity to glance at the clock.

6:28 am.

Enough time to get Izuku dressed and head to school in about an hour. He could listen to some ramblings more then, maybe he'll have an answer to what his quirk is.

"Ah.. U-um. My quirk? Well. It's a bit complicated. It's scary, though. I tend not to use it," Izuku's voice reduced to more murmurings under his breath, slightly annoying Shouta at how easily he could get distracted.
Izuku was spacing out; eyes trained steadily on his empty bowl of miso soup, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated to what he was saying.

"Izuku. Snap out of it."

He jolted, looking at Aizawa in a concerning mix of fear and sudden alertness. Shouta hated using a cold tone on little kids, but Izuku wasn't concentrated enough. "What's your quirk?," he directly interrogated Izuku, looking at him with a laid back stare. He shifted the pillows underneath him; which served as a cushion from the hard wooden floor, huffing from frustration. His right leg was about to fall asleep into numbness from staying in a sitting position for too long.

Izuku went silent a bit, as if he were thinking hard.

"So?"

"I.. I don't know. It's just.. Hard to describe. C-could I... Show you instead?" The boy muttered timidly, his hands balled into loose fists.
That, immediately made Shouta's curiosity spike. He grinned, the same expression he had on when he sparred against his students. A bit of a somewhat sadistic, curious grin. It never fails to make his students panic.

"Sure. Do as you please."

He glanced at the clock.

6:30 am.

Exactly an hour left.

"Just don't destroy my furniture."

Izuku nodded at Aizawa's permission, a determined look on his face. Shouta watched him with a blank expression, although he felt his curiosity growing. A face he gave on his class' first quirk apprehension test; the trial pitch.

The kid proceeded to stretch both of his arms forward, concentrating on his palms as he shut his eyes tightly. His hands twitched, before purple static crawled all over his body, emitting waves of power, almost physically pushing Aizawa off his chair.

Out of nowhere, red flags popped up in Aizawa's senses, his gut suddenly screaming to stop Izuku. Something is happening, and it's wrong. It feels wrong.
Shouta gulped down the thick lump in his throat, ignoring the warning signals in his brain, instead, he simply ground himself by sinking his nails on the mahogany table, the splinters calming his senses down so he could think rationally.
He felt the panic lessen to a lower level as Izuku sharply inhaled, a red glow emitting from his palms.

"H-Hisashi," Izuku stuttered, loser lip trembling. Hizashi..? As in Present Mic? The fuck? "C-could you please appear? I n-need you for something."

Something strange happened.
Izuku's eyelids drooped down, as if he was going to fall asleep again. Shouta, by instinct, rushed forward to catch him, but a surge of power (something he compares to a sonic boom) knocked him out of his chair, his ass falling on the ground.
Quickly recovering, he might have been embarrassed by his lack of agility, (and also the fact that he fell from his chair) but under circumstances like these, he could care less. He stood, looking at the broken platters in the ground with distaste before returning his gaze on Izuku. He'd have to clean the broken porcelain shards later.

Izuku's eyes were bright, ruby red, hooded with the shadow of his long hair. The atmosphere died down, but the instinct to 'get the fuck outta there' was well and still inside of his mind.

And for a moment, it was completely silent. Before it was broken by Shouta.

"What did you do?"

Izuku looked up at him, a Cheshire smile forming on his face. It deeply disturbed Shouta, stomach churning as his insides felt like they were scrambled. Delightful. He was going to be sick in front of the kid.
Izuku opened his mouth, moving it in odd shapes, as of the words don't fit his lips. He spoke; voice different from the usual sweet, timid tone. It sounded smooth, dripping with a sick amount of honey, as if it were sugar coating something.

"I'm not sure who you're speaking to, EraserHead."