Perhaps a Better Place [A Dadzawa Story]

Impeccable: Chapter 58

The next morning is a slow start. About two hours after Mirko's... suggested, bedtime, I sat awake texting Mezo about his incident and talking to Yamada and Aizawa.

Turns out, while on a short patrol with the hero Mezo is interning with, he briefly pulled down his mask to adjust it and a little girl noticed. She then screamed, ran, tripped, and when Mezo tried to help her up, she yelled for her mom to "not let the scary monster grab her."

It's not like the little girl knew any better. Shouji is definitely one of the more extreme cases of quirks causing mutations in someone's outward appearance. Mezo is, admittedly, an intimidating guy. His height alone is above average. But he's also muscular, and he's admitted many times that his face below the mask isn't the most appealing.

Still. It doesn't make any of it hurt any less. For him, and for me to hear about it with his strained, shaky voice.

He asked me to keep the incident to myself, and I will. He said he'd already told Fumikage. Whether that's the truth or not is not my business.

After all that, I called up Yamada, who was making a late dinner with Aizawa, and we talked about our days. Even though it had only been a few hours since I had seen Aizawa, I still told him about some of the things Mirko and I talked about, and Yamada proceeded to pick my brain for over an hour.

The nausea that encompassed me when it came time to actually go to bed wasn't fun. But, seeing as it was midnight and I had to wake up early, I gave my soft goodnights and received an enthusiastic, "DON'T FORGET TO CALL TOMORROW! I want to hear everything!"

Aizawa's quiet "G'night, kiddo" was enough to make me tear up a bit after I actually hung up.

Pulling my Present Mic plush out from under my head, I tugged it close, running my thumb along the dulled spikes decorating his chubby little arm.

Passively, I recognize that this reaction to not being at home is utterly ridiculous. My own heartbeat pounding in my ears and my clammy, shaky hands.

It's all so dumb and I can handle not being home for a week. I can. I'm not a child.

With renewed irritation, I slam my face into my pillow. Unfortunately, it's not hard enough to knock me unconscious for the night, and I spend another hour fighting for sleep.

***

I awake suddenly with a small gasp, sitting up quickly.

However, I slam my head against a hard surface and collapse back onto the ground, cradling the injury.

"Fucking- OW!" I groan, pressing my face into the cool floor to settle my rising temper.

After a few seconds, I peel my eyes open, turning on my side to look at what I hit.

The coffee table.

Oh. I'm on the floor. How did I get down here?

I roll so I'm not half-under it anymore, then sit up. I cross my legs and set my elbows on them, holding my head groggily.

After a couple of mournful seconds, I look up, eyes widening slightly when I find Rumi-San standing there, a hand over her mouth.

The horror sets in and I groan, falling onto my back.

"Did you see that?" I grumble, wiping a hand over my rapidly heating face.

"Um. I'll give you the nice answer and say no."

I groan louder.

"If it makes you feel any better, that was totally my fault. I yelled to wake you up. How'd you get down there, anyway?"