Work Text:
It was a bright summer morning when Denki got his quirk, crackles of light flowing from his veins to the scorched piece of toast he was holding.
His mother had been elated, celebrating a future in the pro-hero business, and she would push him, often too hard, to be better than himself. His father was equally as excited but didn’t hold the same fervor. A quirkless pharmacist, he encouraged Denki to take life one step at a time.
Denki seldom took his advice, and it wouldn’t be a surprise his parents are now separated; thus, it comes with the territory to believe their divorce was his own fault.
Denki had an anxious disposition. He was always moving, letting the electricity out less it charges him, and he lights up “like a Christmas tree,” as a friend pointed out.
He just couldn’t chill. That’s when people left. When he was just—so much. When every sentence was a reference to a joke and his aversion to deep conversation? He drove people away by being so very himself. At least, that’s the conclusion he’d reached.
Cut to 8 years later, and Denki has been accepted into UA. He’s achieved everything his mother ever wanted. He feels like he’s accomplished something. To give himself credit, when he applied, he was only thinking about the social aspect. New faces, new friends, different people that might appreciate him.
But the physical aspect? Becoming his mother? Youch. Denki craved it, wanted to be like her, a hero, but to be like her? He dreaded it. He crossed his fingers that hero school would teach compassion over glory.
Denki glared at his alarm clock. It was 5:58 a.m. He’s been awake for hours, watching the time draw closer to when he has to catch the shuttle. He’s sitting in his bed fully dressed in a stuffy uniform that got mailed to him in the most annoying packaging, which caused noticeable wrinkles he hasn’t ironed out.
5:59 a.m. The bloodshot in his eyes was eerie. Oh goodie, he’ll show up to the most established school in the country looking like a crinkled napkin. That’ll strike hope in his teachers hearts.
6 a.m.
He bolts out the door.
6:15 a.m.
He’s standing at the gates of the holy grail. He shouldn’t be here; who was he kidding? Too late now, the gates are open, and he’s being pushed through a crowd of students trying to make good first impressions.
Denki figures he could show up an hour late with toilet paper stuck to his shoe and he’d get pretty much the same response as now.
The classroom is sparsely decorated, and cold, and the teacher crawled out of a bag. To say the least, his nerves were not eased.
With a desolate glance towards his new classmates, he took a seat and swallowed the rising bile in his throat. Chatter came quick as students began to mingle, that green-haired kid who blasted that robot to hell and back was there. And that explosion guy. It looked like he wanted to start a fight. Damn, at 7am? Well, whatever floats your boat.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m sitting here, and you are gonna sit far, far away from me, Deku”
“It’s just a seating chart; I’m not pulling strings; are you paranoid?” Deku, apparently, soothed.
“‘Are you paranoid?’” Blonde dude mocked with a girlish tone. “I don’t take shit from you.”
“Settle down and sit where you’re told.” Mr. Aizawa scolded and Denki heard the teacher’s name in orientation. He was no joke. Down-low kind of guy, which Denki didn’t get, but he had a passion, which Denki could understand.
“I see no need for introductions; you’ll get to know each other in combat; that’s what matters. In here you will listen to me and be quiet. I know for some of you that seems impossible, but you’ll manage. If not, feel free to leave.” Denki gaped; emotional constipation be damned he’s a chatterbox; he’s doomed.
But for all that fanfare, home room was rather boring. Explanations of what’s to come and a promise of training in the coming hours. They were given the security cards to their respective dorm rooms and explained the dorm and school rules. Don’t do this, definitely
Don’t Do That. The showers get cold quick. That was really the only part Denki cared about. He liked to draw on the condensation.
Lunch hit hard after being shot 10 feet in the air by Bakugos explosions. He got to show off his quirk a bit, met a girl and met a boy in support. He’s conflicted. But that’s neither here nor there. He can smell the curry rice already. Several pairs of footsteps catch up to him, and he realizes he’s been zoning out. “Hey! Electric dude, Kaminari? Come sit with us!” He turned to see Bakugo, Sero, Kirishima and Mina gathered around one table.
Ah, they’ve formed a club. He hopes this is his initiation and not his grave.
“So you live in the city, right? That’s cool.” Sero instigates.
“Yeah, I just took the bus.”
“I’m gonna find out where you live on Google maps.” Mina smiles
“Oh, so you invited me over to doxx me; got it. Would you like my social security as well? Maiden name?” Denki supples, to a hum of laughter.
“Hey dunceface, are you gonna sit with us or what?” Bakugo huffs
“Oh, sure” Lunch forgotten, the group of hyenas cackle and howl for 40 minutes till another round of combat and finish off the day with a rousing game of quirk jeopardy with present mic. Denki thinks he just didn’t have anything planned for last period. That’s ok with him, though.
Dinner was an event. The cafeteria supplied food sent in packages to the dorms, but meatloaf isn’t a huge hit among the youth these days, so the kitchen ended up looking like an active war zone by the time they were done with it. A portion each of bean stew, curtesy of Bakugo. Tasted damn good.
The class huddled to the common area one by one, finding things to do till curfew at 10pm; Mina, Sero, and Deku were clashing it out on phasmophobia; Todoroki was nowhere to be found; anyone responsible was doing homework and Kirishima was painting Jiros fingernails.
Before Denki could ask to join Mina’s game, the room suddenly became stuffy. The lights are too bright. He felt so light. Time to sit down. Without drawing attention, Denki lowered himself to a laid-back position on the couch and closed his eyes.
Thoughts started to blur, and voices became way too in focus. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice his situation and continued their business.
Till his head started itching. More accurately, it felt like his brain was too heavy and itchy, and the only way to stop it is to shake his head really fast. Once again, nobody noticed. In fact, people started laughing.
“Dude, what’re you doing?” A voice chimed.
“I think he’s just bored. Same. Hey Denki, quit pretending to be a dog and come study combat positions with us!”
It stopped
Clarity
One, two, open eyes, blink, shake, rub hands, shake…
“I’ll be right there!”
Slamming his dorm door and falling face first into his bed, Denki smiles into the sheets. His doctor tells him to count the days between seizures, but they happen so often he just tells her they (the seizures, of course) run a tight schedule. So what if he’s lazy? There’s no medication he can take.
He wonders if it’s in his charts. If the teachers know. He hopes they do, and they are. He’s definitely going to have one in class at some point. God forbid someone chews too loudly on a nature valley bar and he might go into orbit. He won’t say he’s not afraid of his classmates knowing, and frankly he should tell them, but the eerie, yucky feeling of judgment clouds his judgment. They’ve made it perfectly clear they have no idea what’s going on.
He falls asleep on top of the covers.
Sunlight peaks under blackout curtains. It’s 7:05 am, and Denki is still in yesterday’s uniform. The school-mandated alarm has to be programmed for a certain time; otherwise, it won’t go off, hence oversleeping. But when the sun hits Denki’s sunken in eyes, he shoots up like a bottle rocket.
“fuck! Fuckity Lord Almighty.” He curses, scraping off the uniform in place of an exact match in the closet (score!) and… a lot of deodorant. No time for a shower.
Running across campus reminded him of a romcom, the one where the guy has to stop his lover from getting on the plane. Except there was no plane, and oh. The lover was his education.
Wheezing and sweaty, Denki reached the lecture hall.
The classroom door was closed but unlocked, some saving grace to his sinking ship. The handle jingled, and the door creaked mockingly as it opened. 19 faces stared at him as he crept to his seat. He sat down.
Maybe he was safe; the teacher wasn’t looking up.
“Kaminari”
Damn
“Would you like to explain why you’re 20 minutes late to my 40-minute class?”
“I overslept sensei.”
“You overslept.”
“Correct…”
Aizawa turned his attention to the class, putting down his pen on his podium. “Class 1a, do heroes oversleep when a building is burning to the ground?”
“No sensei”
“Do they oversleep when a villain has taken a civilian hostage or robbing a bank?”
“No sensei.”
“So pray tell, why should a hero in training get to oversleep? What does that teach?”
The room stayed silent.
“It means you don’t, and it doesn’t. Kaminari, you’re on doubles in combat today.”
“Oooo” cooed Mina before Aizawa shot her a quick glance. “He wants to know if you want the smoke too.” Whispered Kirishima.
Denki gulped thickly. This was not good. He is already having an off day and now he has to work twice as hard, and he just got here. He should’ve figured there’d be no lackadaisical attitude towards pro-hero school. He has to put on an in it to win it attitude.
He has plenty of water, and the combat arena has benches, so he should be fine. But he must know, right? Sensei is just pushing him equally as hard as every other student, but Denki figures there must be accommodations. Right?
The bell rings, and Denki doesn’t realize time has passed. His mouth tastes of motor oil, and his limbs are thick and rubbery. He can’t speak or move. He’s stuck. Everyone is leaving, and he’s stuck. Swaying slightly, and those are his eyes rolling back into his head.
“Denki! Come on, everyone’s gonna be waiting for you at combat training!”
“Yeah, you gotta pay your dues!” Mina laughed
It became very clear there were about 5 people waiting for him to respond.
“Hey sensei, Kaminari wants to hear your lecture again.”
At his mention, Aizawa looks up from his desk and clocks that Denki has not moved.
“Kaminari, this is not dentition, please escort yourself to the training court. I will be there, don’t wait up for me.”
“Kaminari”
Footsteps thumped dryly across the linoleum floors to wear Denki sat lifeless.
“Kaminari can you hear me-“
Before the words could fall into place, Denki slid from his seat to the floor, and promptly started seizing. The movement was slight, not what you see in movies, a back and forth motion, progressing quickly to slamming his head against the floor. This all occurred in under 8 seconds.
Aizawa was on the floor in 5.
“Someone set a timer, and someone bring me my sleeping bag.”
“Is he ok?” “What’s wrong with him?” “Let’s let sensei handle this and go get someone.”
“Thank you, Yaoyorozu. Have Midoriya get recovery girl or present mic, whoever’s close.”
The time ticked closer to five minutes, and Denki still remained on the floor. He didn’t seem to be unconscious, just seizing; his eyelids moved though his breath rate was spiking. Aizawa would use a blood pressure cuff, but he would risk breaking Kaminari’s arm. He’s stable, and that’s what matters.
“Come on, kid, show me something.”
His breathing hiccuped, then stopped. Hiccuped, took a big breath, and ceased once more.
“Did he have anything to eat? We have to pull it out of his mouth.”
momo nods, he’d been chewing gum. So she drops to the floor, and with shaky hands she checks his mouth. Clear. Now all they can do is hold him in the recovery position till Hizashi arrives. Why was that so important?“
4 minutes.
Midoriya is currently being a human detour so students don’t come down the right wing.
Denki’s eyes fade into focus on the cusp of minute five, just as present mic walks in.
“Eurh, hi.”
“Hello. How are yo- don’t try to sit up.” Aizawa warned
“Woah there, little listener! You’re back with us; that’s great. What can we do to help you out there?” Mic soothed
“Lie. Lie down. Sit and then talk, maybe.”Denki slurred
“Ok! Me and Shouta are going to lift you up, and it’s going to feel cray cray for a moment, and then you’ll be on a beanbag.”
“You ready?”
“Mm..”
Denki was lifted like a sack of potatoes over to the “calming” bean bag in the corner, which was really just Aizawa’s one attempt to make his classroom feel welcoming. Denki sank into the cool fabric and sighed, quietly regaining strength. Electricity shifted under his skin, comforting him with its velocity.
“It doesn’t look like you have seizures listed in your medical files.”
“I was just thinkin about that,” he dragged, “it should be; my mom probably took it out; no weakness, and what not.”
Present mic’s face soured, “There is no shame or weakness in having seizures of any kind.”
“Well, she says otherwise. I mean, have you ever met a hero with seizures?”
Shouta and Hizashi shared a look.
“We’re familiar”