little birdie.

TRAPEZE ARTIST

Nothing matters, he will die in the end of it anyway; but he'd rather not think about such gruesome things.

Aizawa, despite being mainly negative, would try his damn hardest to look at the bright side. Even with those memories. Even if sometimes he can hear her crying; even if sometimes he can see rubble creeping from the side of his building, a hand peaking from the small, shrouded rocks.

Even if sometimes all he can see is vermillion red and stark white. When his vision goes haywire and he can't breathe.

Hizashi had tried to convince him multiple times to go to therapy, but to no avail. The haunted man was possibly the most stubborn in the world. So instead of finding a healthy coping mechanism, like Hizashi had with his radio show and screaming, Shota threw himself into a deep pool of work, never intending to leave. He will stick to this until the day he dies.

It is something he regrets immensely in the future; but this isn't the future.

Shi watches as he wakes up three minutes before his alarm goes off, ghastly and pale. He gulps for any form of air. A look of terror on his face. He can still see the building falling down. He can hear them screaming—

His cat runs to the corner, black fur on end and slit eyes narrow as it hisses at its owner. It's dark fur is still puffed, even when Shota calms down with shaking hands and dilated pupils, Shi takes a try at it.

Putting her translucent hands on its black fur, she pets it. Her hand traveling down in a comforting pattern. A smile tuggs at her white lips when it begins to purr. Shota furrows his brows; biting his tongue, what's happening?

_

Today his students had to do hero training meaning one thing- all periods after lunch were given to that. That mental he could sleep in the teachers lounge until Hizashi came in.

So he did exactly that.

Closing his eyes and now he's falling, falling, falling.

_

He drew into unconsciousness with relative ease in the corner of the teachers lounge; nobody noticed him on their coffee runs. His slumpled body on the wall is so routine at this point non bother to ask if he is OK.

Non but Hizashi that is.

"Shotaaaaaa! Ya' have to get up."

Shi decided that watching this play out was far more entertaining than actually getting involved. So with cold blue eyes and a cheery smile she watches the loud blonde shake his friend. The dark haired male begrudgingly wakes up; he blinks with one eye following the action of the other.

"What is it Hizashi?"

"Homeroom, ya gotta get up!"

"Oh right,"

He gets up meticulously, checking his hands for scars and carmine blotches that aren't there, and rubbing his eyes. He takes out his eye drops and pools them into his irritated orbs. He hums at whatever his best friend is saying and walks away, dismissing Hizashi with a flick of his wrist and the curve of his fingers.

The dead woman watches as the students of U.A. pass. She had made it in. She could remember being surprised. Her quirk was so useless after all- again, she didn't have a quirk. Not one she would remember. It must have been underwhelming if she forgot.

Black eyes look at her, in the spot she's in. They are wide and full of fear. He can see the red again. How could he not have seen it?

He can't see her- maybe he can hear- she spits out something as fast as she can but-

"Helー"

"Shota?"

His name is so pretty. So nice, familiar almost. Shota.

"You OK?"

He nods, gulping, his adams apple nervously climbs his throat. Sweat breaks on his forehead, he blinks and rubs his cracked eyes. He bites his tongue and blinks again- he could have sworn he saw her.

"I thought I saw her for a second."

Hizashi's eyes soften. The loud man is suddenly quiet and it feels off to Shi; as if she knows him- he should be loud and talking- a chatterbox. He's placing a calloused hand on his friends rigid shoulder. A sad smile indented on his face, he can remember them both.

"Hey, remember when we went to the amusement park."

He's trying to lighten up the mood- his best friend appreciates it.

Aizawa chuckles. She had to bring her cousin with her, his quirk and hers were so similar. The only difference between them was their hair, hers was a dull white when his was blonde. He would be a third year by now, wouldn't he?

It was sometime in spring, they were on break from school, Hizashi had left them to do something important. They rode a bunch of rides with each other and her thirteen year old cousin laughed when they chose terrifying roller coasters.

A smile breaks out on Aizawa's face.

"Thanks, 'Zashi."

"No problemo, Sho,"

Then he walked to homeroom, feet padding softly on the pristine ground. Scared to make a noise, too tired to break the silence. His breath is sicky in his mouth, trapped under his tongue and wrapped around his neck. His scarf feels like a noose一 it's too constricting for him, he can't breathe, his lungs catch fire and his eyes droop to the spotty ground. Maybe he should just sleep- no!

Get up Shota, you have to get to class; you can sleep at home!

Just remember to breathe, Shota.

Just breath- it's not that hard.

In. Out. In. Out. There you go, see. You're doing fiー

"Don't scratch, 'Zawa, it'll impare your skill, or how you'd say- 'it's not rational!'"

He can hear her- maybe if ghosts do exist, like she believed, then maybe she's watching over him. Would she think he's a disappointment? No probably not- that wasn't her way of thinking.

Maybe she's still there, he thinks, somewhere.