The architecture in the 1-A classroom is a little different than canon.
Mental breakdown, loads of angst
Even before the bell lets its call be heard through the school, the gruffy haired teacher clasps his hands together, and soon the class goes mute, scrambling to their seats, room abound with the sounds of chair legs scraping at the classroom floor. Hagakure's desk nearly topples over with the force she drops herself in her seat in, but her hands grapples it steady, soon letting loose a bashful sigh.
Then the bell rings, when everyone is perfectly seated and looking up at the board or amusing themselves with Aizawa's uncomely attire and scribbly peach fuzz. They had gotten used to the chaotic sight of the teacher, with a few frozen seconds, the bell then rings and nobody had been late to their seat. Good.
This morning was going to be fine, and as Aizawa put it during his teacher introduction at the start of the year, don't make problems with me and you'll go smoothly. Vaguely menacing, but it didn't feel that difficult to adhere to those curt rules. Well, except for a few students, anyhow-
Moving towards his woody umber, white trimmed desk, 'We're going to continue our discussion from yesterday for a few minutes, then the period after this will be silent study.' Aizawa starts, letting his eyes skim disinterestedly through the present faces in the room as he swoops a clipboard from beside another pile of papers. 'Can anyone remember what our discussion was?'
Oh well, Jirou considers it. There are already other hands up but she might as well grab points for interacting in class. Raising her arm, Aizawa directs his gaze to her and she answers, 'Quirk integration.'
'Okay, where did we leave off?'
'Uhm,' ah, she actually lost memory of this, but Kaminari soon pipes in.
'You said you were showing us a video.'
'Oh right,' blurts Midoriya, 'you said it was a film!'
'Raise your hand next time,' scolds Aizawa, before passing his attentions towards another student who's hand (or hands) were actually up, 'mhm.'
'We were going to watch something about the three first quirk holders,' Shoji recalls.
There are a little bit of right's and oh yeah's being thrown across the room.
Ashido excites, hero films are always fun. With a loud gasp, her body ejecting up and one hand slamming on the desk, eyes crazed with copious, childish mirth, her other arm's already launched upwards. A dark, annoyed sigh, 'Yes... Ashido?'
Mineta makes a dirty comment about some part of her bouncing, before having Asui's tongue bounce against his cheek from momentum.
'Are we watching it now?!' There's no other way to start a morning in school without the music of a movie intro rolling in, lights off so the shine of the monitor's reflection on the board is the brightest, and chatters from students from a lazy confab! Eek, she's getting so happy thinking about it-
'Yes, if you would let me go to my computer.'
'Oh right, put it on, put it on!' Some chortles spring out at the happy urgency laced in her voice, soon she drops into her seat. Excitedly searching the room for somebody to just smile at, and her eyes seem to land on Bakugou.
At first glance he's as unaffected as ever, but Ashido finds herself obsessing over the small amount of interest dotted on his face.
Hagakure's all giddy with giggles, swiveling her head (her collar shifts), and probably with an ear-to-ear grin displayed on a face nobody can see.
Aizawa soon clicks the computer into life, and puts the monitor on.
The whole screen is displayed as he tiks in his password that's cloaked in asterisks, soon it loads, and the screen is normal. The background of a raven colored cat that always causes Hagakure to coo no matter how many times she sees it, and for Sero to snicker a little for no reason.
But then it's not.
The screen flashes to black, the normal screen flitting as if trying to burst away from dark confines. Only for it to turn dark.
'Is the movie starting?' quips Kaminari, which earns some good hearted laughs.
'What's going on with this junk?' Aizawa glowers at the screen, spamming Esc on his keyboard then trying windows, 'What the hell?'
'Has this ever happened before?' Iida inquires.
'Have you ever seen it happen before?' Aizawa bitterly responds.
'No.' The blue haired falters a little before regaining posture, 'I think maybe you should go to Midnight, she's good with tech.'
A fizzed out Mineta latches onto the word Midnight, and the image in his head of her painted, unhidden torso is enough to resurrect him, 'I agree with Iida here, Midnight's good with-'
'No,' Aizawa grits his teeth, 'I got this.'
Aoyama stands up to turn off the lights, and the room's doused in darkness. Tokoyami finds that the air is a lot clearer if not a beam or ray is shed. When the world's in it's natural, catatonic state except for the raging of Aizawa as he tries to get it to work.
Then
words appear on the screen, big and spaced out, nice and loud, an informative font you might see in an ad with colorful imagery and tan skateboards, reading out: You've lost control of your device momentarily.
Please sit back, it will return to you after this show =).
'Gee, what an outdated emoticon,' Hagakure scrutinizes ever so observantly before realization dawns upon her, 'wait. Oh... oh my god, did somebody hack sensei's computer?'
'No,' Jirou stretches her words with disbelief, 'nobody in this class is that dumb.'
But the screen only continues, a loud, mean hiss seethes out of Aizawa's clenched jaw, eyes wide with fury before a hand reaches up to rub them, as if they had been too close to fire.
I think we all know one problematic student in this class.
A person truly undeserving of this course.
Chatters, nervous laughter, and people boiling in their seat.
Bakugou watches the screen, expecting a dumb joke to pop up any second.
He's only ever been rude, he doesn't deserve the people that stay around him.
He doesn't deserve U.A.
Oh it's a petty rant. But it's a guy, so it singles out six people that this could be about.
'But who would do such a thing?' Dark shadow whispers, watching the white letters on the screen expand.
Aizawa even tries to close the computer, it doesn't even work.
Katsuki Bakugou.
And all of a sudden, the whole room has an intake of breath. The air is so thick with tension, but Bakugou diffuses it with a mirthful scoff. That made no fucking sense, all he's ever done his whole life was work to U.A. Was this actually hate?
It was fucking hilarious then.
It would have been even funnier if Bakugou hadn't felt so creeped out and eyed these past days, as a set of eyes had gone out of their way to discomfort him.
But it was still funny.
The type of funny that made him slightly exhale through his nostrils, and inhale with a pang of helpless dread.
Shit.
Still, he was going to laugh it off but the text kept going.
What gives him the right to blast things around?
Call people names and berate others?
Aizawa's cursing under his breath, 'Who's doing this?!'
Nobody answers, and now the monitor remote is nowhere to be seen at all. As if snatched away.
He can't even turn this off.
He searches, even urging some students to as well, but it's nowhere to be seen.
He's not changed since the start of the year.
It's weird how he's not been expelled.
The words didn't sting, they didn't hurt, they didn't do anything. The most they did was make him feel a waking sensation of embarrassment, the fact everybody was seeing this, but Bakugou doesn't let such emotions linger for long, 'This is fuckin dumb.'
'It... is,' Midoriya sounds as though his throat is sealing shut, his eyes are probably all wide and bulging, and Bakugou can hear something in his voice. There's no way he's going to cry?
What a fucking child.
It's unfair.
Why does he just use his quirk so senselessly?
He's so destructive.
And I know everybody's thinking it. Somebody should say something.
It's not like Bakugou hasn't guessed a huge bulk of the class probably hates his fucking attitude, while others probably tremble at the sight of him alone, how surprising. He almost wants to spit out a sarcastic comment but the black background fades to a video, an angle that can only be produced by a positioned camera, and he acknowledges the furniture in the new space.
Yaoyorozu makes a sound of pure horror and shock twist out her dainty lips.
Enjoy.
The words fade off, letting the new scene be watched in its full glory. And something actually bores into him since beginning this... thing.
The furniture in that room is exactly the one in his dorm, and the second he hears the blasts from the video, he thinks he knows what this is. This is his dorm and this was a very personal thing.
'Is that a camera?' Ojirou's voice sounds a little limp and Bakugou's own is caught in his throat.
A sweat drenched Bakugou walks into view, huffing for breath, and white, folded towel on his shoulder. His eyes look caved in with resignation, their usually bright shade now terribly dull. It's undeniably late so it could also just be the lighting, he plants his hand on his face. Letting his palm rest on his lips, thinking. Then as though taken over by a gripping state of madness, his palm switches away from his face- open at the wall, barely above a pearly, modern vase on a contemporary coffee table (tastes he picked up from his parents) and a blast trips it over the desk.
The most miserable or ferocious sound rips from his mouth and he looks so terribly enraged, his finger itches into a clenched fist, and he takes a deep breath. Seeing the broken shards of the vase on the floor, the marks of it denting into the originally clean wall. With another angry shout, his words are undecipherable like a bear's.
'Dude.' Kaminari, he sounds so surprised. 'I-'
'This is a violation of privacy!' Iida calls, before quieting down, 'but you shouldn't be doing that-'
'Oh that was the noise,' Kirishima tries to play it cool.
'It woke me up.' half complaints from Shoji, but he sounds too worried to really whine about it, plus he's a little more mature than that.
The clip then cuts into another voice before it can rise, Bakugou's pathetic, now softened tone, releasing from a growl as he just stares at the crushed amenity, 'Fuck. Shit... shit, shit!
'This is why I can't have good fucking things!' He goes on, rubbing at his temples stressed, voice heating up, 'the hell, now I'll be cleaning this stupid shit in the middle of the night...'
'I can't turn it off!' There's a crowd behind Aizawa's desk, trying desperately to help switch this thing off.
'FUCKING KILL THE DAMN THING!' It's so damn sudden that it causes Midoriya to flinch, Bakugou raises from his desk, angry and something like embarrassment taking down his features, 'TURN IT OFF!'
'Well, I'm trying! Don't shout,' Jirou, being among the group, stresses.
Panicked, 'Then get that old fucking bear t—'
'Bakugou. I'm still your teacher here,' Aizawa says with disheartenment, 'at least try to understand the situation.'
Nostrils flaring, he doesn't even have the chance to bite back the venom brewing in the pit of his stomach before the video continues:
Another blast. Loud, it knocks the table over and his leg's soon slammed on the the thing, cracking one of the table legs off with an audible crunch right above the shattered vase.
Boom! New shambles of oak and polished marble hide in the carpeted floor. The towel's fallen off of him by now, and his knees drop to the floor, shards and broken pieces pricking into his skin, but he bites back the feeling of it, his eyes switch from crazed into bewitched into a silent rage. His trembling hands are as desperate as his breaths, one latches onto a fragment of something shiny, and another digs into the carpet. The marble fragment presses sharply into his palm and nicks off the skin from his index finger, oxygenated blood trickles slowly down to paint the carpet.
'-Dude-'
'-What the hell-'
'-Kacchan, I-'
'-Oh my-'
'-is this-'
'-the fu-'
Bakugou would have left the room, but he doesn't need to have to deal with the mystery of wondering how long the damn video kept playing. Even now, he wonders- how much did they know?
And the camera. They were videoing him.
In his dorm.
Bakugou felt so incredibly sick.
Memories of him flapping off a towel to reach for his folded underwear shock his mind and a creep of discomfort tickles the lining of his stomach coldly.
Aizawa looks astonished and terrified at the same time, there's anger there too and he keeps clicking away at the computer, but nothing works.
The room feels deadly silent, even whispers feel extraneous in this context. What where they supposed to do? Bakugou was deliriously hurting himself and now muttering something on the screen, things like, 'I deserve this.
'Fucking ruining everything.
'Train harder next time.
'What even makes me think I'm worthy to even fucking be a hero?
'Pathetic.
'So fucking pathetic.
'Fuck. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,' the Bakugou in the screen shouts, his words are hot and the tune in them sporadic whilst paired with a gradual raise, his eyes narrow, and he looks blinded by the glossiness surrounding his gaze, 'I HATE THIS, I HATE THIS, I HATE TH—'
Then the video ends.
The words on screen are a simple The cameras in the room have been taken out. I just needed to prove a point.
Thank you.
And it ends, soon the desktop is back and the ambience is completely different. Stunned faces, and Bakugou doesn't know what to do, or say, the shame in his chest takes on a shape, like rocks weighing him down from the inside and he can't control it. He sparks off. His stupid fucking quirk lit off.
And it wasn't hidden by any other noise. It was there. For everybody to continue to realize what a violent, brutish delinquent he was.
But he worked to be a hero.
And he's working hard now.
That video was evidence, right?
The truth is, he was pissed and had no other outlet at the time.
Shit, he's still pissed and still has zero other outlet.
So, in the weirdness of it all, he sparks off. And when he thought he might cry, his chest caves in, his eyes feel faint, and the vision in front of him feels surreal. The sound that leaves his chest is even weirder.
Because in despite of it, he knows what's happening. And the noise keeps running until wetness leaks down his face, and he can't tell whether they're from sadness at all. Concerned, confused faces stay on him, and he takes a moment to recollect the fast events. It couldn't have taken any more than four minutes, it couldn't.
Yet the thing that's going on feels impossibly longer, because he's the only noise in the room.
Because Katsuki Bakugou burst out laughing instead of crying.
He's always been a wild card, and he was sparking off so much it hurt.
Everything felt terrible, so why was he laughing? He had never laughed in front of anybody?
Was there a chance he just fed off his own suffering?
His own humiliation?
How could he think this was funny?
He didn't.
It just left.
It just slipped out.
And as the laughter dies down, letting the dead silence of the room begin, his quirk sparks off again.
And as he looks through the tear fogged gaze, staring at the power emitting from his palms, he feels all but powerful.
Staring at his extension, he can't help but think,
I hate this.
Words: 2722