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Kaminari watched as Todoroki finally managed to find his seat. Sero came in shortly after, shoulders low, but the giggles that followed and the shiver that visibly made its way through Sero’s body seemed to cheer his defeated friend up a bit. He made his way over and sat by Mina - you did so great! he heard her cheer - and Kaminari stood to make his way down to the arena, Izuku announcing he was joining him with chills and a soft pat to his shoulder.
Kaminari took the stairs down in silence. Izuku was a hovering presence over his shoulder, and the image of his small body seemed to stick itself to the forefront and stay there. He tried to focus on the match ahead of him. The name ‘Reiko’ had been on his slip of paper, a vague face in his memory all he could conjure even though he knew for sure he’d properly met her somewhere. He wished he knew what type of Quirk she had to prepare for it. Kaminari only hoped it wouldn’t bite him in the ass later. He wanted proud Izuku pats after the match - hell he wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t half the class’ motivation at this point.
Izuku.
Kaminari let out a gusty sigh, and Izuku murmured to him, words unrecognizable. His heart squeezed.
He had to say something, especially after what he saw.
Hey buddy, he said, hoping he sounded as chipper as he was aiming for. If you ever need anything or wanna chat, I’m always free, okay?
Izuku murmured again, and he felt the kid bat at his hair, almost fond. His chest loosened, stomach rising from when it had dropped into his feet earlier. Feeling rejuvenated, he squared his shoulders and focused.
The arena was right in front of him. He stepped out of the safety of the stadium and into the open air, but Izuku didn’t leave, staying by his side. They reached the platform together.
A girl with white hair stood across from him, looking determined, and with a jolt he realized who it was. That Reiko, the girl who brought them cookies. Kaminari sent her a friendly wave, and she responded. Hesitant, but it was better than nothing at all.
The match was started, and he felt Izuku’s presence vanish as Reiko jumped upwards and soared, eyes sharp.
Kaminari watched her rise, feeling his electricity spark in his fingertips.
One minute Izuku was hovering peacefully next to Kaminari, about to turn around and float back up to the stands, and the next minute he was yanked backwards, heart pounding as his hands moved on their own to grab the collar of Reiko’s shirt and pull her up. His hands buzzed painfully, a non corporeal entity interacting with a world not meant for his touch, broken wrist straining with the weight of her, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain. His breath rattled in his chest, and he felt as if he was choking on his breath.
He didn’t know she was the one Kaminari had been fighting. Reiko’s name hadn’t been familiar, he hadn’t been paying attention to her introduction, he didn’t know, he didn’t know.
The couple of ghosts surrounding her looked at him with their flat gazes, bewilderment breaching the emptiness in their eyes, the same reaction he had gotten in the classroom. Izuku cringed from the attention, their stares doing nothing for his frantic breathing. An unnatural, forced anxiety was being burned into his skin, racing his heart, setting fire to his hands.
She was so high up now, the second he let go was the second she could plummet to her death. The thought had him shaking, memories hazy, body fuzzing and losing its shape.
Wait, if he let go of her…?
Izuku took in a deep, shaky, and rattling breath, used the pain in his hands to ground him as he actually looked at what he was doing. He tried to breathe around his closing throat.
His hands were gripped tightly on her collar, actually moving the fabric and creating wrinkles as his fingers dug into the material. His hands were on fire, yes, but he was actually touching her shirt. Not a poke, not an unstable hold on a pencil that was refusing to acknowledge his hand. His grip was tight, strong, as if he was alive.
He could use this. Izuku knew he couldn’t back out now or buck her off. This was a tournament, and as harsh as her Quirk was, it was her Quirk, and she was only doing what she could to win, just like everyone else. If he had to grit his teeth and bare it for fairness’ sake, he might as well take the opportunity to see what she was making him do. Maybe, just maybe, it could help his own progress in actually moving things. It was hard to focus with the panic making his head fuzzy, but he could do it. Kacchan’s influence in middle school was practice, the times where he had to attempt to calm Kacchan down on the spot to avoid popping explosions, the smell of gunpowder surrounding him, popping rampant in his ear as Kacchan cornered him into a wall, laughing-
Izuku furiously shook his head. He couldn’t lose himself in memories right now. He fought against the crashing wave of images in his head, trying to pay attention.
She released him slightly. The pain in his hands soothed to a soft pulse as she began to descend, and now that the pain wasn’t taking over he could feel the texture of her shirt. Izuku stared. The fabric was softer than he’d imagined in his head, grains a soothing texture on his skin. The panic slowed, pumped the breaks as Izuku stroked the material with his thumb, completely mesmerized. It had been ages since he felt something like this. He felt something in his chest now too, if he really focused, a stable, solid feeling in his chest that seemed to trickle into his hands. He closed his eyes, breathed deep and focused hard, attempting to coax the feeling down to his legs as well. It was slow, sluggishly circulating through his shins and making its way down to his calves. His legs felt hot, but it wasn’t burning.
His little moment was ruined when Reiko got close enough to the ground. Izuku felt himself jerk into a sloping drop, full speed at Kaminari. His stomach rolled as he panicked, concentration lost as his limbs flailed, his eyes were wide. He had no control of his body because of her Quirk’s hold, and he couldn’t fight his body blurring into mist as he lost control in memories and phantom feelings as he barreled full speed at the unsuspecting student.
Aizawa gripped the desk so hard his knuckles turned white, his body leaning forward with his want to stop the match immediately.
Izuku was being jerked around like Yamagi was the puppeteer and Izuku the puppet. To say the kid was having a bad time would be putting it extremely mildly, and Aizawa’s stomach sank into the floor as he watched Izuku drop, body fuzzing and disintegrating in a way he had never seen before.
No one in charge of the festival would believe him if he said a ghost of a child was panicking. No one would understand, and no one would stop the match. Aizawa’s hands shook with frustration and lingering fear. He couldn’t do a fucking thing but sit and watch, throat closing as worry suffocated him.
Hizashi nudged him, and he jumped, whipping his head around to glare hellfire at Hizashi’s skull.
What’s wrong? See a villain? Hizashi murmured, tone serious.
No, Aizawa hissed. Midoriya is being used as a fucking puppet. Hizashi’s eyes widened. I don’t know what her Quirk is, but it’s using Midoriya somehow. He’s panicking. I don’t know what’s happening to him, I’ve never seen it before.
Nedzu knows right? Hizashi whispered quickly. He could call off the match, say it was a false start.
Everyone was watching, they’re going to call bullshit, Aizawa replied, heart sinking with his stomach as Izuku’s unstable form flung Kaminari halfway across the arena. Nedzu approved the Sports Festival but he’s not in control of the matches.
Hizashi cursed under his breath. I’ll tell Midnight, she’ll pause the match.
On what grounds, Hizashi? Aizawa hissed.
Hizashi held out his hand, determination etched onto his face. Give me your phone.
Katsuki slouched in his chair, arms crossed as he watched sparky get launched. Flat face and Kirishima were cheering Sparky on, even through the missteps. The girl from 1-B was holding her own for sure, but Sparky wasn’t taking it lying down either. He got close a couple of times, hand just barely grazing her elbow or back before she kept him away at arms length again, and seeing their Quirks try and work around one another was - admittedly - kind of cool. 1-B girl had to keep her distance, but Sparky was dead set on getting as close as he was able. Her Telekinesis seemed to be making things difficult, but Katsuki had to admit he was somewhat impressed. As much as Sparky liked to joke around and take almost nothing seriously, he could hold his own really well.
Just a second folks! Midnight’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the match. Pause right there! We think someone stepped out of bounds, it will be just a moment while we review the tapes. Hold onto your seats!
Katsuki straightened. His classmates muttered in confusion all around him, squinting down at the match. He was sure no one had been sent out of bounds, he’d been following the match pretty closely. Why Midnight needed to bullshit was lost on him. He looked at Sparky and 1-B girl’s faces, but they seemed just as surprised as everyone else. Sparky in particular looked nervous.
Wait, what? Kirishima chirped beside him. Did any of you guys see them step over?
I mean, Kaminari was getting tossed around, flat face said reluctantly. Maybe his hand went over by accident?
Katsuki scoffed. No fucking way. Neither of them have gotten closer than halfway to the line, this whole pause thing is bullshit.
Kirishima opened his mouth to respond, but stopped as freezing air suddenly suspended over them like a cloud, rattling their bones and making their teeth chatter as a horrible feeling clawed its way up their spines. Kirishima and Pinky paled, and flat face looked worried.
...Izuku? flat face called out, voice shaking, but just as quickly as it arrived, the feeling vanished with a warm breeze.
Aizawa stood up from his seat, watching intently as the half static form Midoriya was in made a beeline for the booth. Prepare yourself, Aizawa warned Hizashi, then Midoriya fazed through the glass, a sobbing, warped mess. Hizashi clicked off their microphones, paling. The temperature of the room dropped dozens of degrees, sobs tearing through the quiet of the room. The booth began to shake, the walls and floors struggling through a man-made earthquake, Midoriya’s form warping and caving in on itself like a blurry, crashing wave. Scratches tore from the walls closest to him, and Aizawa recoiled from the panicked shout that tore out of Midoriya’s throat.
Midoriya, I’m here, Aizawa soothed. It’s alright, you’re safe. Another sob rebounded through the air, echoed and rattled. You’re okay. Do you know where you are?
I̷̕͝͏’҉̴ḿ̵̷ ͠҉̧̡s̕҉̡͞o̧͏r̸͜͏r̨̛͝y̵̢̨͜,̢̡ ̷͢I̡҉̕͞ ͠͏t̸͘͜r̸̛̕͜i̧͜͡͏͞e̸͠d̶͘͏̧ ̸͝I͏ ̵̧̀͟t̵͝r̷̸͝i̢̕e̡̛d̸̴̸̡̛ ̕͟҉I͟͝҉̶͞ ̧̢͞t̵̸̕͘͘r͡i͏̀͟͠͝e҉d̵͝ ̧̕I͜ ̢̢̡̢t̸̛ŗ͝͝į̸̡͘e̴̢͢͡ḑ̸͞,̢̀, Midoriya’s warped voice managed to push its way through his crying, sounding like he was choking. Aizawa’s heart somehow lurched and sank all at once. He spared a glance at Hizashi. His hands were shaking, he looked sick. Aizawa grit his teeth against the wave of nausea and shudders Midoriya’s presence brought on.
It’s okay, Aizawa said, tone soft and sad. Its not your fault, it was an accident. Can you take deep breaths?
Aizawa inhaled as smoothly as he was able. Every heartbeat felt painful, chest swollen with sadness and regret as he held his breath. Then he released just as smoothly. Can you do that for me?
I̴̕͢͠ ̵̧͘͝͞w͏̢̢a̶̕n̶̷̕͟t̸̨̀͢ ̨̛͡t̷̕͠o̷̵͠ ̢́̀͢͝g̶̡͘͞o͏̛̀ ̛́͜h̀́o̵̢m̸̶̢͟e, Midoriya said on hitching breaths. The table rattled on the vibrating floor, another scratch gouging into the wall.
Aizawa stopped, heart crumbling painfully, then he slowly walked towards the door. Okay, okay. Follow me, and we’ll go home. But I need you to breathe.
B̸̧̀͡҉ŗ͘͡͡e̴͘͠á͢t̸͏̀h҉͢ȩ̵͝҉,̧̢͡ ̵͢b͠r̶̡e̕͟͏̶͜a͠t̶̡̢̀͢h̴́̕e̢̢̛͘,̀ ̸̸̡͢͏b̢̡͠r̸͏҉e̕͢a̸̧t͞͏̧͜͡h͢͏̷̢̕e̵̕͟͢,̨ ̵̨b҉̧r͝҉̸̕e̢a̵͜͡͞t̢̢͏̕h̡̛҉͜ȩ̶̛̛͠, Midoriya echoed, the static cloud beginning to follow him out. Aizawa made his way down the stairs, outwardly calm. Midoriya followed him dutifully.
You’re okay, Aizawa spoke to him. Try and follow me. Deep breath in - Aizawa inhaled - deep breath out. He let the breath go. Deep breath in… He inhaled. Deep breath out. He exhaled. A rattling noise came from the cloud as Midoriya attempted to copy him the best he could, hitching breaths and sobs interrupting. Aizawa coached him as he finally hit the bottom floor and made his way out into the hall. Midoriya was still by his side, close, almost against his shoulder.
Just breathe, he murmured, watching as his form began to solidify, slowly but surely. We’ll take it slow.
The intercom clicked back on, reverb making the speakers squeal. Both contestants are safe! Let the match continue!
Sparky visibly relaxed at the news, and a newfound determination formed on his face. Katsuki frowned in bewilderment, watching as the two got back into battle stances, and he thought quietly. Did the match pausing have to do with Deku? The feelings they got were only when Deku was upset and they had been worryingly strong. Katsuki dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone, sending a message to Aizawa.
‘Is Deku with you?’
Aizawa felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he silently begged for it to just shut the fuck up. Midoriya had finally settled for the most part, form mostly solid but still blurry at the edges. Midoriya’s ear hovered around Aizawa’s chest, listening, quiet sniffles coming out of the curled up ball just above his lap. It reminded him of the USJ, and he internally cringed at the memories.
Thankfully, he had managed to coax Midoriya into the break room, the smell of coffee still lingering in the air from earlier. He had made his way over to a chair and carefully sat down in it, still talking to Midoriya, and instead of getting upset since they were no longer moving like Aizawa expected, Midoriya had immediately taken refuge in his lap, curling up into a tiny ball with his knees tucked into his chest. His injuries were the worst Aizawa had seen yet, bloody and raw and twisted. Aizawa didn’t move, he just let the kid soak in as much comfort as he could.
Do you still want to go home? Aizawa asked quietly, the classroom a vague image in his mind’s eye.
To his surprise, Midoriya shook his head. He tapped the pocket with his phone, broken wrist creaking, and only then did Aizawa pull it out, offering the item to the little ghost. Something on the screen caught his eye, and Midoriya’s lower lip wobbled, eyes shining as he looked at Aizawa. He pointed at the phone, asking.
Aizawa looked. Bakugo had sent a message. Go ahead, he said, in what he hoped to be an encouraging tone. Midoriya began to type away with slightly shaking hands, then typed some more. A gentle tap on Aizawa’s side told him he was done.
‘No, I wanna stay here. It’s quiet,’ he had typed, meanwhile his phone vibrated with another message from Bakugo.
Do you want my phone for a while? he offered. Any distraction was a good one in Aizawa’s eyes, and maybe having some connection to the rest of the students while he calmed down with someone he trusted would be the best decision.
Midoriya nodded. Aizawa held his phone next to his thigh so Midoriya could stay curled and still see it, and a pale hand reached out from the safe cocoon of limbs Midoriya had made to type one handed. On and off Midoriya messaged, his phone vibrating in his hand more and more as the students all started messaging Midoriya back and forth. It was bringing a smile to the kid’s face, and Aizawa let out a soft breath of relief.
He would have to watch over Midoriya closer from now on. He never wanted to see the little ghost like that. Never.
Izuku wiped the leftover tears and blood from his face, watching as texts came pouring in from the students in the stands. He had meant to text only Kacchan back, but apparently his response leaked to the rest of the class and it wasn’t long until they attempted to cheer him up.
‘KAMINARI WON!!!’, Sero had typed, followed by others sending messages of excitement. Izuku watched quietly, a smile pulling at his lips at the news. He sent a smiley face and emoji back. He didn’t have the energy to do much else.
As much as that had been miserable, Izuku still remembered the feeling of solidity in his chest. Right now he was taking a minute’s respite, but the second he was okay was the second he would test out the theory he was loosely piecing together as a form of distraction.
He sniffed. He felt exhausted, and miserable, and his hands still had leftover pulses of pain from Kaminari’s competitor. Memories still licked at his heels, threatening, but Aizawa’s presence was just enough to keep them at bay.
He had tried to suck it up, tried to make sure he wasn’t affecting the tournament, but he had anyway.
‘I’m sorry’, he typed in the notes app, feeling his throat clog up all over again, then sadly tapped Aizawa. The teacher looked at it and frowned.
I said it wasn’t your fault and I meant it, Aizawa replied gently. Don’t beat yourself up over something like this.
His heart still felt heavy, but he tried to take in Aizawa’s words. He pulled up the texting app and caught up with the live blog, still floating just above Aizawa’s lap.
‘Tokoyami and Momo are next!! both look nervous’, Sero typed.
‘For some dumbass reason’, Kacchan added, and Izuku giggled softly.
He’d stay here for a while. Later though, he would give Kaminari and the other winners the patting of a lifetime.