Chapter Text
The trek to my classroom was more painful than usual. Mom having been harsher than usual last night. It’s hell at home and it’s hell at school. It’s been this way for three years, when I was pronounced a quirkless useless deku.
I reached the classroom with dread, glancing up to see my teacher, Kozai sensei staring right at me. He was silently daring me to go to my desk instead of to him for the muzzle.
My accidental muttering was apparently too distracting to my classmates and warranted him requiring to use a muzzle.
Looking back at the ground, I slowly trudged my way to his desk, knowing I’d be facing worse punishments if I disobeyed.
I remember the first time he put it on me. Kacchan had stood right beside me holding a handful of my hair to keep me still. Sensei didn’t tell him to and seemed upset Kacchan had done it but didn’t comment on it.
While my scalp had hurt, at least the muzzle was on properly without fully cutting into my skin in the wrong places. It was a small mercy, especially as I started trying to claw at it, only succeeding in scratching parts of my face bloody. It was then that Kacchan had used an explosion on my desk and startled me so bad my hands flew from scratching my face to the desk hard.
I hadn’t realized I was crying or hyperventilating until that moment. It was hard enough to breath in the thing, but I was making it worse with my panic. With the effort to control my breathing Kacchan turned back around.
Sometimes I think Kacchan is doing certain things to help me and then he says such harsh words that the thought flies out of my mind.
Once Kozai sensei had finished putting the muzzle on, I walked to my seat. I stared blankly at my desk, not noticing anything going on around me. I stopped bringing my analysis notebooks after Kozai sensei had burned number 3 in the garbage can. There was no point in bringing them with me if they were just going to be destroyed.
I’d realized a while ago that even if I wanted to take the muzzle off, I couldn’t. It needed a key to unlock the latch, ensuring it stayed on until he took it off. There were a few times he sent me home with it on, refusing to unlock it.
The gleeful look on my moms face when she saw the thing that was keeping me from talking was painful. She got her own version to put on me when she felt that I needed to learn a lesson on silence at home. Her version was so much more painful, the muzzle being harsh and sharp metal and had a collar to put around my neck with a small cord connected to the muzzle. She always put the collar on too tight, ensuring that I would struggle to get a breath in through the pressure. The collar had an electric shock feature that she could apply timed shocks to. She usually ended up setting it to shock me on the third of eight settings at every five minutes. She would keep it up until the next day when I had to go to school, at which she would take it off and put it away.
Suffice to say, I got no sleep those nights. In a constant stream of pain with not enough time in between for a proper reprieve. It took a good three hours for the aftershocks in my body to cease each time.
The first time I showed up to class with my body still doing minute spasms, I saw Kozai sensei’s mouth lift into a dark smirk. I had sat down with the muzzle on my face only to notice how pale and sickly Kacchan had looked when he noticed the spasms continue.
Sometimes I wonder what goes through his head. He never physically hurts me, only verbal slander and the occasional threatening explosion. I had also seen the remnants of bruises where his shirt sometimes rode up to show his lower stomach. It was a painful realization that his family was obviously hurting him too. Everyone at school always says his quirk is heroic, but does his family maybe view it as the opposite?
How he acted at school helped to ensure positive comments and reactions that he probably doesn’t get at home. It made sense. If he can’t have positive responses at home, he can at least have positive responses at school.
He’s so fucking lucky to be able to have that here. I get negativity no matter where I am.
I sighed heavily through the muzzle and turned to look out the window that right beside me. Of course, I knew sign language because I hardly wanted to talk even with the muzzle off, but no one else knew so it hardly mattered.
That’s what I thought until Kacchan turned around and slapped my desk to get my attention. He had a slightly thoughtful look on his face before moving his hands sloppily in JSL. “Are you okay, Deku? You look more out of it than usual.”
My eyes widened before I schooled my expression and signed back, “I’m fine. You don’t have to bother yourself with worrying for a useless quirkless like me,” before turning to look back out the window.
I missed his look of pain before he turned back around.