desolate domain.

FIGHTING OVER THE INJUSTICES

iv.

"Have no fear," He says, the words come from his mouth. From his throat, but they don't feel like his, too deep, too crass. There's weight on his shoulders that feels like a universe. "for I am here!"

_

Shutsu is traumatized when he leaves the principals office. He can still see those black, beedy, eyes watching him. They tingle his head, make his fingers twitch.

"Shit Eraserhead, he's terrifying." Shutsu murmurs. "He's worse than my brother."

"Brother?" Eraserhead tilts his head.

"Yeah. My brother. My brother who tried to lock me in a vault. My brother who tried to take over the government. My brother who was a vigilante when I was, like, seven."

Eraserhead snorts. He doesn't believe, but that's alright, Shutsu knows he wouldn't believe himself either. Who locks people in vaults anyway? His brother, apparently. Weirdo.

(.. His brother who could steal quirks, his brother who twisted the world around his thumb―his brother who he hasn't seen in a long time. His brother who, despite all of his fears, he still loves.)

"I still can't get over the fact you called him a rat in a cracker." Eraserhead mutters.

"Eraser," Shutsu mourns. "he laughed. Get clearly got the reference. He told me not to poke him."

"I don't get your jokes, Hizashi isn't this bad." Eraserhead puts his head in his hand. "Anyhow, we'll be working together, so that's Aizawa-sensei to you."

Shutsu grins, and it feels like a new beginning. "It's lovely to work with you, Aizawa-sensei!"

It feels like hope.

_

"Just smile, yeah?" His mouth is wrong again, his lips are too big, and the words taste like copper, his hair is pulled back roughly, his hands are covered in white gloves. "Save them with a smile, I'm going to save them with a smile."

_

Aizawa-sensei expels just about half the class when Shutsu is teaching for his second year. He's halfway through his teaching degree at the time.

Shutsu has the mind to chuck himself out the window after that, because that was going to get him fired―or it would have if the bastard of a man didn't just re-enroll all of them without telling Shutsu.

He was already packing your his Yuuei sanctioned room (there were a total of twenty―one per teacher if ever needed. They were like safe houses) when Aizawa-sensei said that they'd need to plan the lessons for the year.

(He'd almost thrown up from the fear curdled in his stomach. The sick in his mouth at the thought of everyone leaving again, at the thought of going back to the way things were before. He wouldn't be able to stand the paranoia; he wouldn't be able to think straight, because he knows that every year that passes, the less people are willing to help him, quirkless as he is.)

The incident passes. 

_

"It hurts," These dreams are becoming commonplace―saying things with someone else's mouth. Blonde hair falls over his face, his knees are buried in the dirt, grappling sticks. Shutsu breathes out with lungs that aren't his. His vision dots black and he clutches a chest that is not his own, his mouth tastes like sandpaper. "fuck."