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Every morning was the same. Waking up was a war of attrition that Shouta Aizawa was never sure he could win. It went more or less like this:
Shouta Aizawa became vaguely aware of an obnoxious sound somewhere near his head. Something in him sparked, telling him it was important but it drifted in and out, he couldn't quite hang onto it and then the sound was gone. He knew it was important and he should have paid it more attention but the utter relief of its sudden absence was too strong. Blessed nothingness took its place.
Years upon years upon years seemed to have passed when the sound came back. This time, Shouta became aware of his body, how heavy it was, how impossible the very idea of moving was. The screeching sound blared nearby and he wanted nothing more than for it to shut off but he couldn't move. He had to move. He didn't want to move. It was too hard to be. A small part of his mind railed against the sleep that still possessed his body but it was too much. He let himself sink back into the deep dark nothingness of sleep again, knowing the sound would come again in just 3 minutes.
This time, it felt like mere seconds. He was hardly more conscious this time than the last but his limbs didn't feel quite so heavy. For a few long seconds, he waffled between thoughts of two different types of comfort: the nothingness of sleep and the alertness of full wakefulness. Thinking was hard, his mind sluggish. He could barely piece together his thoughts enough to know whether he really needed to be awake or not. Before he could figure out what he should do, the sound was gone and he was losing the fight to stay afloat.
He had no sense of time when the sound came a fourth time. His body and mind told him it had felt like eons and milliseconds at the same time. The struggle to awaken was becoming painful. Awareness of his own existence made him feel like he was going to shake into pieces. The world shook, he felt nauseated. All over his body, his muscles felt simultaneously too tense and too weak to function. Even his lungs seemed to want to let go of the air they held and never try again. He was more aware of himself now though. He could think enough to know he wanted desperately to be done with this process. He had to either turn off the alarm and just let his body have the sleep it was screaming for or gather his strength to fight through the incredible inertia of sleep.
Shouta moved his fingers.. at least he tried. He wasn't sure if he'd been successful but he thought he could feel life coming into them a little bit. With a tremendous effort, Shouta moved his right arm about three inches in the direction of the necessary evil that was his painfully loud alarm.
With a heaving sigh, Shouta realized he'd stopped but it couldn't have been that long, his alarm was still going off. This time, he pushed himself forward on his bed and flung his hand out to the offensive device lying nearby. Grunting, he fumbled it closer and pressed the power button to bring the screen to life and the ear-splitting screech to a halt. Blue light flashed through his eyelids and he almost opened them.
An electric current shot through Shouta's head and out to all four of his extremities. Someone or something was stabbing Shouta directly in the eardrum and all he could think was that it absolutely had to stop right that fucking instant or he would sustain permanent damage. In the same instant, he had bolted upright, frantically mashing the buttons on his phone and now he was staring down at the thing through squinted lids. The bolt of energy drained out of him and all he wanted to do was collapse back into his pillow but he knew that wasn't an option. If he did that, he might as well just give up for the day.
Several minutes passed during which Shouta did nothing but concentrate on remaining upright and conscious. He forced his eyes to focus on the small digital numbers. He was going to be late if he didn't get his ass up off the bed.
Finally, about 30 minutes since the first alarm went off, Shouta Aizawa stood shakily from his bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Once awake, Shouta could go through his morning routine fairly quickly without having to think about it. Wash, day clothes, food. The last was optional. By the time he had to actually leave to go to work, he was usually awake enough to successfully navigate public transportation.
Every morning wasn't quite that bad. He had not been careful about his sleep in the last several days. It was always like this when he didn't make sure to get at least 10 hours of continuous sleep at least once out of every 3 days or so and at least 8 hours the rest of the time. He'd heard of some people with the same condition who required ten or more hours every single night. He was thankful his condition was not that limiting. And just like anyone else, in an emergency situation, adrenaline would spike and he could hop out of sleep more or less instantly so he didn't have to worry about this trouble impacting his hero work too much. He just had to make sure he got somewhere safe before it wore off because he would lapse back into sleep almost as soon as the adrenaline faded.
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Shouta always made sure to bring his sleeping bag with him when he left his residence. In some cases, when he couldn't quite make it all the way to wakefulness, he'd wear it on his way to work, dozing on the train, in the staff lounge or at his desk. Basically, any time he had a minute or three to stop and rest his head, he would take advantage.
Even on days like today when he had made it to complete, refreshing energized alertness, he'd usually need at least one nap. It was about 8:30 am and his alarm had first gone off exactly two hours ago. He was just starting the day with 1A when he felt the first vague telltale sign of a sleep attack. A strange sense of irritability somehow different from normal fatigue-induced irritation clouded his mind. A few minutes later, he was struggling to concentrate, losing track of his thoughts and his patience. His eyes began wandering lazily around the room, losing focus but remaining active in a last ditch effort not to close. Shouta took a deep breath through his nose and forced his eyes wide to focus, blinking a couple of times. It worked for less than a full minute before he found himself staring without seeing. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been saying exactly but the students didn't seem to notice anything wrong. Shouta instructed his students to get to work and not to wake him unless it was important, zipped himself up and collapsed on the floor next to the podium. He was out before his students had even settled into their work, the last thing he heard the sound of their rummaging for books and paper and pencils.
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Some days, Shouta just wanted to scream. It didn't matter that he'd been good about his sleep hygiene and that he had woken feeling actually well-rested for the first time in a month, less than an hour later he was dozing off in a staff meeting. He switched his attention from pen and paper to his phone to his fingernails to the pattern in the wooden tabletop and back to the pen and paper. He could only maintain wakefulness for about a minute or two at a time and the more he switched the worse it got. He tried to pay attention to what Principal Nezu was saying and for the most part, he knew what was being said but he'd occasionally suddenly realize he had no idea what anyone was talking about. Principal Nezu knew of his condition and would happily fill him in later if he had any questions. As soon as the meeting was done, Shouta went to the staff lounge and laid down for a nap. When it was time, he woke and headed to class. The walk wasn't far but along the way he found himself pausing and closing his eyes, leaning against a wall for a few seconds of rest. Finally arriving in class, the noise of 1A actually helped him perk up a little. The activity he'd planned that day sufficiently engaging to keep him awake for an hour. It was a huge relief.
At lunch, a sudden sense of profound frustration overcame him. He realized his free period was almost over and all he'd done was sit and stare at his food in a daze. He wanted to scream. A small version of himself cried hysterically in his mind. He wanted to demand that the world stop and wait for him. He wanted to throw his tray against the wall and see the food splatter against the wall. He wanted to break things, flip the table over, he wanted to pull his hair out, he just wanted to be awake for a full day, for once! He didn't do any of those things. He pushed his tray away and buried his face in his arms on the table. He forced himself to calm down, forced the thoughts out of his mind and tried to rest for the remainder of his break. A few minutes later, when it was time to go back to work, he took a deep steadying breath and promised himself a relaxing evening later if he could just keep it together through the rest of the day.