Haunting

Chapter Five: Scarred

Toshinori could admit his faults. He knew when he was slacking or lagging behind, so it wasn't hard to admit to himself that the class of 1-A confused him greatly.

Not the students. No, it was the classroom .

He would walk through the door just after class started, just barely catching the soft murmurs of an oddly echoey voice before a heavy silence would suddenly crash down, weighing on the room's atmosphere like a ball and chain being dropped in water. It was oppressive, suffocating, as if the very air itself had a substance and weight that it shouldn't.

The students would drop whatever they were doing to stare at him. Some curiously, some equally as bewildered as he was, and one or two accusing, suspicious gazes.

It was silent, cold, but Toshinori would never label those moments as still .

The classroom itself was never still.

The people in that room were settled in their seats, and there were small movements the students made, yes. Flipping through books, writing things down, heads tilting up and down as their attention switched between him and their own work.

But something wasn't right.

It was the feeling of someone watching him, a pair of eyes he couldn't see biting into his figure and making the baby hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. A feeling like something was about to happen that made him set his jaw to keep from clenching his teeth.

The room was a paradox. Empty, but full of noise, containing a story that wasn't within his grasp. A deafening silence.

Bakugo watched him teach, his eyes lacking any sort of respect or praise kids his age normally had for him. Instead, he looked suspicious, wary, and the more classes he had inside the classroom instead of out in the training grounds, the more that behavior - that wary, uncertain gaze - seemed to spread to the rest.

They started greeting an Izuku as they came into the classroom out of nowhere, cheerful and peppy, but there was never any response. They seemed confused, murmuring to each other and throwing glances about the room, asking one another is he not here? and where is he? Toshinori never understood what they were talking about. There was no Izuku on the roll call list he had, after all.

He started a lecture about proper positioning when landing from a particularly high jump, going into how Quirks could help your land tremendously.

Half of the students were very clearly not listening. Bakugo wasn't even attempting to hide the fact that he was passing notes to Shinsou, who was seated right behind him, looking almost upset. Todoroki was more focused on the slightly flickering lights, Uraraka kept sharing confused frowns with Jirou, and Kirishima was even fully whispering with Sero, gesturing about the room and occasionally pointing at him. In fact, multiple students were pointing at him, and Toshinori couldn't help but feel secluded somehow.

Something had changed, although he wasn't sure what.

He called for free time so they could get their work done, and the students split off into their usual groups. Their worksheets laid untouched in front of them. They seemed much more enthralled with calling out to this Izuku , repeatedly getting no answer, and - oddly enough - growing genuinely concerned when Bakugo calling out was also unsuccessful.

He gently chided them to focus. They listened with no small amount of reluctance, and Bakugo sent him a harsh, infuriated glare before following suit.

The window panes rattled softly, and he watched them out of the corner of his eye.

Toshinori mentioned Quirklessness in that classroom once.

He never did it again.

It was a passing comment, neither derogatory nor praising, just a neutral statement of fact. Quirkless kids tended to have smaller builds. That's all that he said, and the room seemed to breathe . The window panes shivered in their frames, creaking with an unseen pressure. Vibrations shook the very foundation of the room itself, desks rattling and lights flickering as if it was on the cusp of a power outage. The class as a unit shivered from the almost unbearable cold that blasted through the room, an invisible A.C that didn't have an off button. Unintelligible cries and shouts rebounded off the shaking walls, desperate, begging, and near tears.

Toshinori was just about to order the students out when it stopped, the room returning to its paradoxical silence. Just like that, it had never happened, and the students were left shaken and afraid, clutching their desks and holding down anything they could grab to keep things stable.

Uraraka looked on the edge of tears, and all of them looked pale or upset to some degree.

Bakugo looked especially pale and a little green. His hands were shaking horribly, even with his white knuckled grip on his desk, and a far away look made his eyes seem glassy.

Toshinori soothed the class as best as he could and called the principal. Nedzu claimed he saw and felt nothing, but he would keep an eye out.

He sent Bakugo out into the hall to catch his breath, asked anyone else if they would like to - to which Kirishima nodded and rushed out - and hesitantly finished off the lesson.

He skipped the section on Quirklessness. The class had free time afterwards.

Bakugo didn't go back to class. Kirishima grabbed his and Bakugo's backpack for them and left, saying quick goodbyes to everyone else - along with Izuku .

Toshinori could admit his faults. He could admit the name sounded familiar, but he didn't know why .

All he could do was stew in his thoughts as he packed up, having the irresistible urge to glance over his shoulder every couple of seconds, expecting to see someone watching him. There was no one.

The oppressing weight of silence leaned heavy on his back as he exited the classroom. Strangely, it felt almost like something pushed him out.