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“They aren't working. There, h-happy? Th-they don't work. Can I goー go now?”
Aizawa stilled, eyes lifting from Kaminari's most recent test. The boy sat in front of him, head low, gaze shifting continuously, his fists tight and glued to his knees, right leg bouncing.
“What isn't working, Kaminari?”
“The meds. Theyー nothing works. I c-can't focus and I keep- I keep zapping people and frying my brain. A-and I can't fo-focus. Can I go!?”
Aizawa sighed, concerned. So he and his colleagues had guessed it right, after all. Too bad it had taken the boy months to come clean.
The suppressants weren’t working. The meds, the ones that had made Kaminari go through hell for the umptenth time weren’t working, and the boy was very much obviously at his limit.
After a couple of weeks of adjustments, of dizzy spells and whatnot, he’d thought that maybe this time he would be okay. He’d hoped that the compound that the chemists had come up with for him would work.
Two pills, one in the morning before breakfast, one at night, after dinner. They weren’t big either, which was a huge relief. But that didn’t matter now, because those damned pills weren’t doing their job, just like the previous medications, and before that, back to when he’d first been prescribed suppressants for his quirk.
The problems had begun about two months after he’d started taking the new pills. Kaminari would grow dizzy and disoriented, shaky, but blamed it on the anxiety caused his poor academic results一 his professors had noticed his struggles, but despite the testing accommodations for dyslexia, the postponed deadlines, the extra lessons and tutoring with his peers, the boy still couldn’t get a 60% to save a life.
Which, contrary to popular beliefs, was unusual.
With the proper aids, Kaminari wasn’t terrible. His average score, excluding scores from training, used to be around 75%, and he’d always get between 85 to 90% in his English exams. Now, however, he couldn’t pass those either.
Yamada-sensei too had grown visibly worried, but despite offering help in any possible sneaky way.
“Little Listener, hey, I was thinking that maybe we could meet up and you could help me keep track of what we’ve done in class at the end of each day, if you want!! Fifteen minutes, that’s all I need. Help a poor old man out, will you?”
Kaminari had always declined the offer. Not too politely, either. His friends had noticed that, too.
He had grown visibly frustrated, distant, snappy, aggressive to the point of almost punching Sero, of all people.
“Bro, hey, hey!! Calm down.” Kirishima had shouted, one hand to keep Kaminari from charging again at Sero, the other to keep Sero himself from trying to get back in front of the blond.
“F-fuck off!! Y-you don'tー he can't ask that!!”
Bakugou had stepped forward then, growling. “Don't get your panties in a twist, Sparky. The fuck is wrong with you lately, huh!?”
“Kacchan's right, Denki.” Ashido had cut through, scowling, "Don't be like that. We deserve to know.”
“Ah!? 'Deserve to know' what, exactly? My business!?” Kaminari had yelled. Electricity coursed through his veins, hands twitching.
“We deserve to know why you're skipping meals and losing sleep, and if that's your business we still deserve to know, so that we can help you, a friend we all care about.” Kirishima had tried to reason, voice low.
Kaminari had snarled, lights flickering. His friends had collectively taken a step back at that point, and then headed out of the room. Sero had been the last one to leave, glancing toward his friend from the threshold.
“We're worried. When you feel like opening up, come get us. Please, Denki.”
They hadn't brought the issue up again after that day. Not to the other classmates, not to anyone.
The blond boy had never been violent, not once in his entire life. He’d always been the one to physically put himself between the people fighting, if anything. Kaminari had never, not once, raised a finger against another being if not against villains, or during training exercises when he had no other choice.
In addition to becoming so unexplainably aggressive, the control over his quirk had also started to slip. He’d zapped a few people by accident, covering it up with the fact that meds couldn’t do much against static energy, and he’d blown the breakers during a storm, blaming the storm itself.
Nobody had any evidence to accuse him, anyway, and it’s not like they could have known about his random, unsolicited and unexplained ‘dumb moments’, which were definitely seizures according to internet, ‘simple focal seizures’.
The words scared him too much, though, and his ‘dumb moments’ had always been a priceless source of entertainment, apparently.
“Kaminari.” Aizawa called, sounding mildly worried and making the boy snap back to the present.
His bottom lip wobbled, eyes blurry. “They aren't working a-and I'mー I'm tired, sensei. T-that's all.”
Aizawa hummed. “We noticed you are, kid. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Great. J-just great.” Kaminari hissed bitterly, heat rising up to his face.
The man sighed. “It's not a bad thing that we know about this. Your friends do too, I'm sure. Now that you've confirmed our theories we can help, doctors canー”
“No!!” Kaminari bit, making Aizawa stop.
He looked at the boy in front of him, hunched over and sweaty, visibly shaking. His body had started to emit tiny sparkles the exact moment Aizawa had told him to stay after class.
The man didn't erase his quirk for the moment, but kept a close eye on his student. “Care to elaborate?”
He shifted in his seat, tugging at the collar of his shirt with nervous movements. “I don't n-need new meds. And I'm t-tired of seeing doc-doc-doctors, I don't need t-to. For real.”
“Listen. I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, but you do need medical help, kid.” Aizawa explained, calm as ever.
“You've been having those seizures without using your quirk at all, almost every day. In class, for starters, but I've been informed that you've had those during meals, and I suspect that you've experienced some while you were on your own too. It's not safe to ignore what's happening, Kaminari.”
The boy groaned, hands now grabbing at his hair, tugging and fisting the locks as he groaned again, distressed. He knew it was pointless to argue with Aizawa, but he also knew that another change of medication was probably going to kill him at this rate.
“Kaminari.” a deep, gentle voice called.
“P-please, no, please s-sensei, please. I don'tー please.”
“Calm down, it's okay.”
“It's not fucking okay!!” and okay, that made the man jolt a bit in surprise. “Y-you don't kn-know what it's like, you don't know h-how much th-that hurts!! I m-may be a minor but I'm d-done letting others decide f-for me when it's my life that keepsー that keeps g-getting ruined!!”
Ocher eyes shone with fresh tears, accompanied by stifled sobs.
Aizawa got up from his seat, walking around the desk and crouching next to his student's chair, a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder. “Kaminari, look at me for a moment.”
He didn't, and the man ignored the tingling in his arm. “Kaminari, I'm sorry you feel like we are controlling you, weー I probably overwhelmed you, and I'm sorry. But you are not alone. Now breathe, we'll continue this another time. Take a few deep breaths.”
Kaminari blubbered, his breath hitched to the point of hyperventilation. This was so humiliating, bawling his eyes out in front of a professor for something that anyone else could have dealt with on their own. Tears streamed down his face, eyes puffy, skin too pale.
Aizawa grabbed his phone with his free hand, the other rubbing up and down the teen's back, and shot a quick email to Shuuzenji, informing her that Kaminari was headed her way.
“Kid.” he called again, “I'm taking you to Recovery Girl, then you can rest. Come on.”
The boy shook his head vehemently, hands still pulling at the hair and scratching the scalp, “M'fine, I d-d-don't need to s-see RG, m'not hurt.”
“I know you're not. But you haven't been eating nor sleeping well, and I want to make sure that there's no reason behind it besides the suppressants messing with your body.” Aizawa said, and stood up.
A few minutes passed before Kaminari stood up as well, legs wobbly and unsteady. Shiny eyes rose up to meet Aizawa's.
“C-can't I j-just go to m-my room? I'm tired, sen-sensei…”
The man's heart clenched, but his expression didn't change. “You can rest after Recovery Girl takes a good look at you, I promise.” he said. “Can you walk? The infirmary isn't far, but if you can't, I can fetch a wheelchair from there.”
“No, no. I-I can w-walk!” Kaminari said immediately.
He almost sprinted outside the classroom and headed for the infirmary, Aizawa following him close. Soon enough, the two made it to the room, Kaminari was fanned and dizzy.
Shuuzenji greeted them with a kind smile, asking the boy to take off his shoes and tie and lie down on the bed.
“I'll be there in a second, sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime, hm?” she said, closing the thin curtain.
She then turned to Aizawa, and made him follow him outside the room.
“So he finally admitted it?”
Aizawa nodded. “The suppressants aren't doing anything good for him now. I don't know why they aren't working, but something's wrong. Again.”
The elder sighed, pensive. “He's definitely thinner than last week, too.”
“Hm? Kaminari was here then, too?” Aizawa asked, cocking a dark eyebrow in surprise.
“His friends brought him in because he'd been spacing out all day and wouldn't respond that fast. Good thing they thought about coming here, he was running quite a fever.”
“Do you think it had something to do with his quirk?”
“Yes. There was no sign of infection, nothing that could have indicated any other cause.”
Aizawa cursed under his breath. “Your quirk can't do anything about it, can it?”
“Unfortunately not.” she hummed, sympathetic, “Well, I better get going now. Thanks for being so attentive and caring.”
“It's my job.” the man shrugged, scratching the back of his neck, “I'll be back in a few hours, then...?”
“Yes, thank you, Shouta-kun. And bring Kaminari-kun some dinner, please.”
Kaminari's afternoon was uneventful. Shuuzenji asked him a bunch of questions, shone bright lights into his eyes, took his temperature, weighed him, made him pee in a test tubeー which wasn't embarrassing at all, noー and told him to rest up.
Aizawa showed up at seven in the afternoon, four hours after he'd left, with a bowl of steaming ramen for Kaminari to eat. He only ate half of the food before he stopped, complexion grey, stomach churning.
In the meantime, Aizawa and Shuuzenji exchanged hushered chatter, but the teen was too drained to care about eavesdropping. Instead, once he was cleared to do so, he put his shoes back on, grabbed his discarded tie and left for his room.
Kaminari was out as soon as his head touched the pillow, door unlocked, suppressants forgotten.
“...the damn door, Sparky!!”
“Katsuki, quiet, he may be asleep!!”
“Guys, the door’s unlocked, look.”
Kaminari groaned, burying his head inside the pillow, back to the door. He heard multiple set of footsteps enter the room, one heavier and faster than the others.
He didn’t even have to guess, because when a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him violently as if he were some milkshake to drink, the boy was quite literally forced to open his eyes, not past a slit.
“What t-the fuck do youー do you want, Bakugou?” he growled.
“Oh, ‘Bakugou’? Hell, Denki, you must be mad mad.” Ashido chuckled, “Class starts in ten, we’re here to escort you there.”
“Leave, leave me a-alone.”
“I brought you breakfast!!” Kirishima cheered, shoving melonpan and a juicebox in his hands, “We’ll get you something else later, but this should suffice for the first two classes.”
Kaminari hummed, and put the food on the bedside table before laying down again, duvet pulled over his head despite the spring warmth.
“G-go away.”
“Not a chance, hon.”
“M-Mina, I saidー”
“Oh, I’m still Mina then, cool!! Tough luck, Kacchan, maybe you’re going to be Bakugou forever. A wish coming true?” she laughed, patting the explosive blond on the shoulder as the latter clicked his tongue and scoffed.
“Come on, bro, Aizawa’s going to be pissed if we all come in late.” Kirishima emphasized.
Kaminari shrugged, still buried in the blanket. “Then you should, you sh-should go.”
“Damn, Sparky, who pissed in your mouth? Get up already, enough of this broodin’ shit.”
And Bakugou didn’t even wait for a reply, really. Instead, he grabbed the duvet and yanked it off his friend, to reveal that Kaminari was still wearing his school clothes from the day before.
He reeked of sweat, and the others couldn’t help but notice how exhausted and uncomfortable Kaminari looked. Heavy eyebags hung under his dull eyes, bangs plastered to his damp forehead, cheeks red and warm.
He looked, no, he was sick.
Kirishima hissed under his breath, and Ashido was the first one to move and set a delicate hand on her friend’s forehead.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were sick, Denki?” she asked, concern edging in her voice.
“‘Cause I’m, I’m n-not!! Now g-get out ofー of my room.” he spoke, voice rough as he futilely attempted to pry his duvet from Bakugou’s grip.
“Kacchan, get the thermometer, please.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, idiot!!” the boy snarled, walking toward Kaminari’s private bathroom without further complaint and dragging the duvet along.
Kirishima fetched Kaminari’s bottle from his desk and handed it to him, smiling. “Drink up, it’ll help.”
Bakugou came back a moment later, unceremoniously shoving the thermometer in his friend’s hanging mouth, keeping him steady by aggressively cupping his cheeks with one hand.
“I fuckin’ hate playing nanny.” he growled. The thermometer beeped a minute later, and Bakugou scoffed. “Hm. 36,8°C. Lucky bastard.”
“Told you I wasn’t si-sick.” Kaminari murmured, rubbing at his sore face, now free from Bakugou’s claws.
“That’s almost a fever, anyway.” Ashido explained, “But at least we know you can come to class. So change that shirt and let’s go!!”
“Yeah, and you should have breakfast.” Kirishima noted. He then moved to pack Kaminari’s backpack with the books he was going to need during the day, along with a new face mask and another juice box he’d brought from the kitchen.
“Alright, we’re all good to go.” he said, and then he handed Kaminari another mask, “Here.”
“I don’t needー need it.”
“You want to get the others sick…?” Kirishima faltered.
“For fuck’s s-sake, I’m n-not sick. It’s my qu-quirk.” he bit, blunt.
His friends didn’t say another word. Bakugou retrieved a clean shirt from the drawer and he would have ripped the shirt off Kaminari if the latter hadn’t decided to collaborate instead of getting stripped bare.
As they walked to class, Kaminari silently munched on his melonpan, taking a few sips of orange juice between one bite and the other.
Aizawa didn’t reprimand them for arriving two minutes after the last bell, and instead kept teaching his homeroom class, grateful that his students had managed to grab Kaminari and take him along.
Though, one thing that worried Aizawa was how Sero, whom he believed was Kaminari’s closest friend, had been in class since the start, only glancing at the blond from a distance, with a scowl.
Kaminari felt sick. He felt really sick. The lesson had only started half an hour prior, but he felt like he’d been there, sat on that chair, for days.
He blinked, trying to will the words on his textbook to stop moving, swallowing loudly. The voices around him had been drowned out by the sound of his own ringing ears.
“ーinari, it’s your turn.” Aizawa’s voice called. “Page eighty-seven, paragraph two. Come on.”
The boy nodded. He got up on shaky legs, knees buckling under his weight. The book in his hands felt heavy as he flickered through the pages, not actually remembering what he was supposed to do.
Was he in class?
What class was it?
Aizawa’s.
Homeroom, right?
Right.
“Kaminari?” the professor called again.
“Snap out of it, Sparky.”
“Kaminari-kun?”
“Denki, bro?”
Kaminari swallowed to no avail, throat dry. Right. He needed to read. He needed to read for the class, he needed toー
He felt faint. His heart hammered in his chest, seemingly trying to pierce through his ribcage and skin.
“Kaminari.” a voice called, deep, lined with concern, closer than before. “Kaminari, kid, do you need to lie down?”
He opened his mouth, lips trembling. “I, no, I, I’mー”
Something warm dripped down onto his chin and white shirt. He glanced down, reflexes slow, delayed. A trembling hand rose, index and middle finger brushing against his bottom lip, coming off stained in crimson, thick blood.
“Sero,” Aizawa called, noticing how apprehensive the boy with dark hair looked, “Please take Kaminari to the infirmary.”
“Yes, sensー”
“W-wait,” Kaminari stuttered, urgency in his tone. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. “sens-sensei?”
“Yes, kid?” Aizawa called, a hand gripping the boy’s upper arm for safe measure.
He gulped, eyes shifting out of focus. “I, I think, huh, I, ahm....? I, huh? M’going t-to, I m-may pー m'going to pa-pass ou'...?”
Kaminari’s body tensed up, eyes rolled back in his skull as he dropped to the ground like a sack of wet cement. Aizawa rapidly lowered the boy to the floor, his own heart beating rapidly as he watched his student start to convulse and shake, face emotionless and empty.
“Kaminari-kun!?”
“Denki, fuck!!”
“Oh shit, whatー!”
Aizawa ignored his students’ panicked yells and immediately loosened the tie around Kaminari's neck, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. He then turned the boy's convulsing body on his side, keeping a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rolling over.
“Someone start a chronometer, someone else get me their jacket, and someone go get Recovery Girl, quick. The rest of you, move the desks, open the windows and leave.”
“Butー!”
“Now.”
Sero rapidly grabbed his phone and started the chronometer, crouching next to Aizawa. “Thirty seconds so far. And I’m not leaving.”
“Me neither.” Kirishima, Ashido and Bakugou said in unison, looking at each other for a brief moment before glancing back at Aizawa, determination burning in their eyes.
Bakugou rapidly folded his own jacket and moved Kaminari’s head on top of it, touching him as if he were made of glass.
The professor sighed. Glancing around, he noticed that the rest of his students were gone, windows open like he’d asked. He cursed under his breath, shaken.
“Come on, Kaminari. Come on kid, it's going to be okay.” he muttered.
Kaminari kept convulsing, muscles clenching and unclenching in rapid succession, limbs flailing and jerking as pink froth trickled down his mouth along the blood oozing from his nose.
The kid’s breath was shallow, ragged, but his pulse was still there, so Aizawa allowed himself to relax slightly.
“How long has it been, now?”
“One minute and a half, sensei.” Sero murmured.
“Okay. If he doesn’t stop seizing in three minutes, we’re calling an ambulance.” Aizawa instructed. “Once he wakes up, we’re going to assess his level of awareness and coherence. If he isn’t coherent soon after waking up, we’re still calling an ambulance.”
The professor wished that his students would have learnt these things in the following semester, with EMTs explaining things more thoroughly, and not while they watched their friend seize and choke.
“What the fuck is happening to him?” Bakugou growled, eyes wide in shock and concern.
“Kaminari’s having a seizー”
“I know that!! I mean, what the fuck’s going on with him!? Why is he seizing if he takes those suppressants, or whatever? Aren’t those supposed to help!?”
Aizawa frowned, inhaling deep breaths to calm his own nerves as he stared at Kaminari’s seizing form. “We’ll have to wait for Recovery Girl to find out. Has anyone alerted her yet?”
Ashido nodded, stopping to bite her nails momentarily. “Iida said he was going to.”
The man hummed. “I need one of you to fetch the bin and some tissues. Sero, time?”
“Two minutes and twenty seconds.”
The professor nodded. Kaminari was still jerking under his hold, the seizure not seeming to have abated in the slightest over time. “Come on kid, you’ll be fine. Come on, Kaminari.”
“C-can he hear us at all?” Sero asked, on the verge of tears, tissues in hand, while Ashido jogged to get the bin.
“It’s unlikely, but it’s always best to talk to the person seizing.” Aizawa explained, “Also, the reason why I made your classmates leave is because it would be far too overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people right after a seizure. As I said, Kaminari might not be entirely coherent after waking up.”
He glanced at the boy, then back at the others. “Time?”
“Three minutes.” Sero informed, torturing his own hands. “Should we call an ambulance now?”
“No, not yet. If he doesn’t stop in a minute and a half, then we’re alerting the emergency services. Has Kaminari had grand mal seizures before?”
“Has he had... what?” Ashido asked, unsure.
“Grand mal seizures. Tonic-clonic? Seizures like this one, I mean.”
Ashido shook her head, soon followed by the other three students. “Not that we know of.”
“It’s not in his records either, so probably not.” Aizawa hummed. “Come on, Kaminari, don’t go scaring us like that. Wake up.” he said, gently patting the kid’s back, one hand still hooked on his shoulder to keep him in place without limiting his movements.
“Is he in pain?” Kirishima asked, “Isn’t there something we can do to make it hurt less?”
“He shouldn't be able to feel any pain now, but his muscles are bound to feel sore afterwards.” Aizawa explained calmly, trying to soothe his students’ nerves.
“Seizures like these, tonic-clonic seizures, are mostly caused by faulty electrical signals, but not only. When these happen, you need to keep calm and remember a few basic things. Remove the things around their neck first. Then, roll the person on their side, put something soft under their head, nothing in their mouth, and hold them in place but not down. This,” he stopped, gesturing to Kaminari, “is called 'recovery position'.”
The kids were still looking at him, curious.
“Talk to the person during and after the seizure. Call an ambulance if they don't stop seizing in five minutes, and if the person struggles to answer simple questions. Oh, don’t give them anything if they aren’t one-hundred percent coherent. Also, if you are not sure why the person's having a seizure and there's no medic close by, call an ambulance anyway. That’s all.”
“H-how do you know these things, sensei?” Ashido asked.
“All heroes know. You’ll be taught these things soon enough too, andー”
“Sensei, four minutes and fifteen seconds.” Sero called, panicked, “I’m calling an ambulance. Kaminari, he’sー”
“Wait, idiot. Look.” Bakugou growled, eyes set onto Kaminari’s form, growing steadier by the second. The tremors seemed to rapidly die down, along with the jerking of the limbs.
Aizawa smiled, taking a deep breath to calm down a bit. “Okay, Kaminari, there you go. That’s it, you’re back, that’s it.”
Kaminari coughed and sputtered, trying to roll onto his back but failing due to the man’s hand on his shoulder.
“Denki, are you okay?” Sero called. “Dude, come on…”
“Can you hear us, hon?” Ashido asked, while Kirishima and Bakugou started silent, shaken.
“Don’t overwhelm him, please. Give him a moment.” Aizawa said, voice low.
His hand rubbed up and down the length of Kaminari’s spine, and he waited for a whole minute before he spoke again.
“Kaminari, are you back with us?”
The blond looked around, eyes not focusing on anything nor anyone, gaze shifty and blurry. He groaned, moaned something unintelligible before he coughed again, a low-pitched whine caught in his throat.
“Kaminari, do you know where you are?”
Another groan, then a shake of the head.
“That’s okay. You’re in class, homeroom class. Do you remember what your name is?”
A pause. “Kam-Kaminari... Denki.”
He sounded unsure, but Aizawa didn’t let that scare him. “Do you remember when your next birthday is?” the man asked.
“J-June, huh, twenty-ninth. Soon, I th-think.”
“Yes, yes. And do you remember who I am?”
Ocher eyes squinted, trying to focus on one of the many forms moving and jiggling before his eyes. “S-sensei. Aiza-Aizawa sensei. Eraserhead…?”
“Correct. Where are we, Kaminari?”
It took a moment. “Cl-class. 1-A.”
His friends sighed in relief, all but Bakugou on the verge of tears, though the latter looked fairly overwhelmed. Aizawa nodded.
“Can you tell me who these are?”
“Hanta, M-Mina, Eiji, Kac-Kacchan.” he croaked out. “S-sensei, I f-feel sick, Iー”
Aizawa was quick to drag him into a sitting position as Kaminari promptly doubled over. Ashido rapidly shoved the bin under his chin as Kaminari brought up a sour stream of vomit. He coughed and sputtered helplessly, breathing heavily as he futilely tried to inhale.
“Fuck, fuck!!” the boy with the tape quirk screeched.
“It’s okay, Sero. It was expected.” Aizawa reassured, “Kaminari, try to breathe through your nose.”
Bakugou scrambled, taking Sero away from the scene and near the window, forcing him to look outside and breatheー the guy was prone to sympathy-vomiting, and right now, one sick person was enough to handle. He stayed there with him, watching Kaminari struggle to breathe.
He puked again, a horrible gurgling sound making its way up the boy’s throat as he retched relentlessly in Aizawa’s arms, Ashido whispering gentle words of reassurance while Kirishima dabbed at his friend’s chin with a tissue.
About five minutes passed since the first bout of vomit, and then Kaminari slumped backwards, into his professor’s secure hold.
“M’tired.” Kaminari slurred. Dazed eyes shifted from one person to the other as he swallowed, throat scratchy. “My th-throat hurts. W-water?”
“It’s okay, it’s normal.” Aizawa spoke. “We’ll give you water in a minute. Can you talk us through your situation?”
“Hm?”
Aizawa knew he’d made a good call by not giving Kaminari any water yet. The kid still wasn’t entirely aware, so he’d leave that choice to Shuuzenji.
“How you’re feeling, that is.” Sero explained, approaching the scene again and crouching next to his friend, a shaky hand squeezing the boy’s wrist. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Throat.”
“Anywhere else?” Ashido pressed.
Kaminari took a moment to ponder. He then shrugged, uncertain. “M’sore all ov-over.”
That was when the classroom’s door slid open, Iida peeking inside timidly, trying not to pry or look at all.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. Recovery Girl has been alerted and she’s ready to see Kaminari-kun. Sorry for the delay, she was busy with another student.”
“Thank you, Iida.” the professor said, bowing his head slightly from his position.
He then looked back at the students in front of him. “You may come along, but I’m not sure that Recovery Girl will let you stay while she checks on Kaminari.”
“It’s fine, we’ll come anyway.”
“What will the geezer do, anyway? I say we do the fuck we want.”
“Bakugou...” Aizawa reprimanded, half-heartedly. “Let’s just focus on getting Kaminari to the infirmary for now.”
Kirishima was the first one to move, gently hefting Kaminari up in a bridal-style carry. Ashido and Bakugou were right behind him, gathering the boy’s things and tagging along.
Sero and Aizawa were in front of the group. The professor glanced at the kid beside him, noticing just how hurt he looked.
“Sero.” he called, making the latter jolt slightly, “Are you okay?”
“I, yeah. I’m okay, just shaken up. Sorry, sensei.”
Aizawa cocked an eyebrow, “And why are you apologising, exactly?”
The boy simply shrugged, and Aizawa didn’t press the issue any further.
Hours passed before any of them were allowed into the infirmary. The moment the door opened, revealing Shuuzenji as she gestured for them to come in, the kids rushed into the room, flinging themselves at Kaminari as they hugged him tightー maybe too tight.
Aizawa smiled, relieved. “Thank you, Shuuzenji-san.”
The elder woman smiled, “No worries. Kaminari-kun agreed to meet them, and since he’s healthy enough to do so, it would have been cruel to make the kids wait any longer.”
The two adults approached the bed, where Kirishima, Ashido and Sero’s tears and snot dripped onto a very pleasantly overwhelmed Kaminari, while Bakugou simply let out a string of assorted insults lined with concern.
The professor chuckled, but quickly hid behind the capture weapon.
“Wh-why didn’t you tell us th-that the suppressants weren’t wor-working!? W-we could have h-helped!!” Ashido weeped.
Sero did, too, squeezing his best friend tight and burying his face in the boy's shoulder. “Y-yeah, dude, weー oh shit, is that why you got mad when we asked you ab-about your health?”
“Shh, it’s f-fine, I’m o-okay now.” Kaminari murmured, blushing slightly. "Hanta, man, d-don't cry, okay? Th-there's no reason t-to."
"Of course I need to cry!!"
“A-and you need to change those meds ag-again, don’t you?” Kirishima asked.
The electric blond nodded. “I d-do. I… I’m scared. I don’t w-want to, but I h-have to.”
His friends collectively shut up. They exchanged worried looks, air tense and pregnant with unsaid apologies. Just as Aizawa was about to make the students leave, to give Kaminari some time to elaborate and grieve, Bakugou growled.
“You’ll be fine, Sparky.”
“...Kacchan’s right.” Ashido said, drying her face with her wrist, “We’re here to help. Just like last time, honey.”
“And not just us, the other extras too.”
“Don’t call them that, Katsuki...” Kirishima sighed, half-heartedly, just like Aizawa before. “But, yeah, everyone in 1-A is here to help.”
“Just…” Sero started, but stopped. He took a deep breath, eyes meeting his best friend’s. “Just don’t give up.”
Kaminari's bottom lip wobbled, a fresh bout of tears streaming down his face. “M'sorry, m's-so sorry, guys. I w-was a dick to y-you, m'sorry, pl-please forgi-forgive me, I l-love you guys, m'sorry!!”
His friends didn't hesitate to wrap their arms around him, murmuring words of reassurance, except for Bakugou who limited himself to clicking his tongue and patting the boy's shoulder.
Aizawa smiled. Kaminari was going to be just fine.
Kaminari stared at the doctor before him, hands clutching at his own shirt, knees trembling. He glanced back, where his friends and Aizawa were smiling at him in encouragement. He took a deep breath, looking at the doctor again and following her down the corridor.
He wasn’t going to give up.
fin.