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He appeared, hovering and silent and painfully shy, in the corner of the staff room one day out of nowhere. At least, for no reason that Nedzu was aware of, although he had no doubt he was missing quite a few pieces of this puzzle.
Nedzu wasn’t as unfamiliar with this phenomenon as people might think. There had been many times he walked into a home of a student or a meeting room, unsuspecting, only for there to be whisps floating about the walls, glimpses of faces long past with twisted scars and disfigured limbs. They floated and wandered, stuck in a loop of cries and isolation, trapped in their own heads. Nedzu caught on quickly that he was the only one that could see them, and so he kept the little snippets of the past to himself.
Usually, they kept to themselves anyway. The most they would do - or could do - was wander to the ceiling to flicker a light, or put a hand through the glass to make static in the television screen. Harmless, easily excusable.
This one, however, was stronger.
He floated near the ceiling, tucked away in the corner like he was afraid of getting in the way regardless of the fact that no one could see him. An observer, always listening, always watching. Younger than his students and bone white, Nedzu could barely make out the blood-smeared face in the transparent mist that was his form. Some days he was more opaque but he was never easily visible, with a twisted leg and arms that seemed to have taken some serious damage - perhaps in a fall - and eyes that tracked every breath in the staff room, wide and lifeless but contradictingly alert.
Nedzu knew he was different. The way he watched the teachers as they conversed was too sharp to be normal, too conscious and aware of his surroundings. His attachment to Aizawa seemed especially strange - as far as Nedzu was aware the man was just as ignorant to the little ghost as the rest of them were. But he didn’t interfere or cause any type of fuss, so Nedzu was perfectly content to let the child do as he pleased. He seemed to get some enjoyment over the banter, and seeing a smile pass over his scarred face was enough to ease some of the ache the sight of a dead child caused him.
On a rare occasion, he would hover close to the table as Nedzu spoke, wrangling his broken leg into some form of a criss-cross position in the air with his hands folded patiently in his lap. He just...watched. He tried his best to make his staring subtle, gaze pausing just above Aizawa’s shoulder, occasionally Hizashi’s but that was even rarer. The kid wouldn’t go near anyone else. Not even Nedzu.
Aizawa caught him staring multiple times. He never asked, just smirked to himself with half amusement and half exasperation, and Nedzu knew the man was more aware than he had originally thought. Hizashi would look at him, confused for just a moment before he sneaked a glance at Aizawa and understanding would pass over his face. The rest of the teachers were only confused, looking at the two men with furrowed brows and questioning eyes as the principal would stare at them while he spoke.
He visited Class 1-A, out of pure curiosity. The effect that small child had over a classroom - and its occupants - was astounding.
The students seemed aware of the child just like Aizawa, but they curbed their interaction when they realized he was there, most likely thinking he would be upset somehow. They bit their tongues and made their greetings more subtle, more subdued, and Nedzu had to admit if he couldn’t see the kid their ruse might have worked. But he could, and the little ghost was thrilled at every greeting he received.
He no longer hovered uneasily in the corner, barely fumes. He was more opaque now that he was comfortable, floating about the students’ heads and his form flickering like candlelight in his excitement. His small body buzzed, grew fuzzy at the edges, and the window panes actually rattled in their frames.
Aizawa threw a casual remark at the boy, subtle enough to seemingly be directed to the chattering students - settle down, class is starting - and the kid giggled but obeyed without a fuss.
His arms and right leg looked...well, better at least, when he was here, but now he noticed a bone sticking out from the kid’s elbows and shin on his right leg, his wrist looked pretty mangled too, crunched under force and pressure. Nedzu could see freckles pepper the boy’s cheeks, blood just under his nose and the corners of his mouth, and his hair curled at the ends. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen with such a small form. Every breath he took rattled, most likely blood built up in his lungs.
Nedzu assured he was only there for observation of the classroom and that they could go about their day like normal, and so Aizawa began the lecture. Nedzu watched in his chair next to Aizawa’s desk, giving away nothing.
The boy would float, grin mischievous and childlike as he brushed the back of necks to make the students shiver, gently batting hair and tapping desks to get some form of attention. He never lingered on one student long enough to be a cause of serious distraction, fluttering around in a blur of smoke, and the students took the teasing with grace. Any silence was met with an uncomfortable frown, and his mouth would blur into an empty crater, distorted murmurs echoing off the walls. That or he would tap any surface he could reach.
He would pull back every once in a while for a breather in the further most corner from the door, making the four students in the back shiver and rub their hands for warmth.
At first he seemed to dismiss Nedzu’s attention as coincidence, but the little ghost caught onto his consistent, watchful gaze quickly, and he seemed to be wary instead of excited like Nedzu expected him to be. He hovered next to an unknowing blonde - Bakugo Katsuki, Nedzu quickly recalled - hand hovering over Bakugo’s bicep as if he could alert the blonde to his discomfort, even though his student remained blissfully unaware, face peaceful but focused. It was a stark contrast compared to the little ghost’s concern.
The kid’s unease grew the longer he was stared at, injuries becoming worse and worse, arms and leg twisting and cracking as broken bones strained. Blood began to leak from his nose and mouth, his face twisted into a look of fear and something between pain and upset. His body curled closer to the unknowing blonde, desperate for a shield or any source of comfort. He blurred, window panes rattling softly and lights flickering without the kid needing to touch anything.
Nedzu turned his gaze elsewhere, the sight making him sick.
Aizawa’s gaze danced around curiously, obviously wondering about the sudden ruckus in his classroom. He turned to Nedzu briefly, silently asking, but Nedzu said nothing.
No matter how stoic Aizawa pretended to be, Nedzu knew this would absolutely break the man.
The lecture was over quickly after that, and Aizawa assigned homework and called for free time. The students’ gazes traveled to the back of the classroom, and with an approving nod from Aizawa, they grabbed a device carefully tucked away and settled it on Aizawa’s desk, closer to where Nedzu was seated. They flicked a switch to turn it on, and the antenna pointed right at the little boy, although to everyone else Nedzu knew it seemed to point at Bakugo. The blonde wasn’t alarmed in the slightest. He almost seemed smug as his friend group formed around his desk, talking amongst themselves and whispering about an Izuku.
At least Nedzu finally had a name.
Izuku’s unease slowly faded as the students reluctantly asked if he was alright, shooting Nedzu concerned looks like they were afraid he would demand they stop. Izuku’s appearance began to heal - however slightly - the more he was talked to. He responded with murmurs as he tapped Bakugo’s desk, mouth blurring, eyes wide. The class relaxed, and chatter began again.
The kid hovered around the different friend groups, apparently having decided to ignore Nedzu for the time being in favor of listening in to the different streams of conversation. Some pulled him into their chatter, asking questions and opinions. Izuku could only respond with nonsense, and the students all debated whether or not to record with the machine on Aizawa’s desk - he’s been following the antenna, I think he knows already, one whispered - but they ultimately decided against it.
Nedzu commented on none of this. He didn’t feel the need to. If Aizawa felt as though Izuku’s presence was harmful this would’ve been brought to his attention much sooner, as unbelievable as it may have sounded, and their casual, safe communication was proof enough that Aizawa felt that the little ghost was only a distracting prankster at worst. Nedzu trusted his judgement.
Besides, he didn’t think he would have the heart to kick a little kid out. Nedzu wasn’t entirely sure how he’d manage to remove a ghost anyway, and he wasn’t interested in learning.
Ten minutes until class was over and Nedzu couldn’t take it anymore. He excused himself. Izuku’s wide, lifeless eyes watched him go, and part of Nedzu wondered if he would follow him out of the classroom, but he made it into the hallway without the kid.
When school was out, he pulled Aizawa aside and asked the man about the little one. Aizawa hummed. Harmless, he said. Apparently Toshinori had an incident a week or so ago with him, but no one was injured. The students have grown very attached to him. He is surprisingly peaceful.
Nedzu left it at that, telling the man outright that he trusted his judgement. Aizawa thanked him, then bluntly asked - with no small amount of accusation in his eyes - if the disturbance was Nedzu’s doing. Not...purposely, was his response. He must be shy. Certainly didn’t appreciate me watching him.
Aizawa asked what Izuku looked like. Nedzu dodged the question, and Aizawa didn’t press, a mixture of curiosity and wariness warring on his face.
Aizawa described the goings on within his classroom for the past month or so after Nedzu prompted him. He described the habits Izuku possessed, how they found out about Izuku to begin with, as well as the adjustments his class and himself had to implement to keep things running smoothly - reassuring Nedzu that the adjustments were minor. He briefed the incident with All Might, suggested that he ask All Might himself what happened if he wanted specifics, then left the staff room without further delay.
Nedzu waited, patient.
Izuku showed within minutes, cautious and unsure, and he was back to nothing but whisps and smoke and broken limbs. Nedzu took a moment to gather his thoughts. I didn’t mean to scare you, Nedzu said, and if Aizawa had walked back in it would’ve seemed as if he was talking to himself. As long as you behave yourself, you’re more than welcome here, just like the students.
Either a breath of relief or a soft gust of wind, Nedzu wasn’t entirely sure, but Izuku was more opaque and closer to the tables, comfortable enough in Nedzu’s company to hover and look at every crack and seam of the walls and floors.
It wasn’t much, this slight comfort for the little boy, but Nedzu supposed it was good enough.
He made sure to say hello to Izuku whenever he saw him in the halls from then on, no matter who was with him or how insane it made him look. Izuku beamed brighter every time, finally excited that someone could see him and he took advantage of the situation freely. Nedzu would drop into the classroom - with the premise of just checking up on things - and would greet Izuku. Instead of becoming afraid, Izuku would wave in a cheerful manner, giggling and pointing frantically with a mangled limb at his temporary prank victim, to which Nedzu would wink at him in a secret wish of good luck.
Staff meetings became slightly more lively as well, and Nedzu couldn’t deny in joining some of Izuku’s harmless fun. The boy would flicker the lights, making no noise, and as the staff of U.A cried out in surprise Nedzu pretended nothing was happening, even outright denying that the lights were flickering at all. Aizawa joined in shortly after, somehow keeping a perfect deadpan as he insisted nothing was wrong. Izuku watched this all transpire, floating just below the ceiling, laughing and murmuring.
Nedzu didn’t mean to make a friend out of the little ghost, but he couldn’t say it was a bad thing. Izuku kept him company when he wasn’t with Aizawa, and the muttering, nonsensical voice was soothing white noise when he was drowning in paperwork.
He only hoped his presence was equally comforting to Izuku. After all, the kid deserved it.