Haunting

Chapter One: Realization

There was a rumor that was whispered through the halls of U.A, murmured throughout the different classes with worried glances and wearily discussed behind the rim of coffee mugs in the teacher's lounge. Class 1-A diligently ignored the whispering, the odd looks, the bold questions. Aizawa assigned detention to whoever even seemed like they were about to ask.

There were murmurs that sounded in class 1-A, sometimes, when too long of a silence settled over the room, yet no one could pinpoint where the voice was coming from, even when everyone remained silent. Objects would be left overnight only for the students to return to things moved around, possessions in spots where they weren't before. A soft tapping noise was perfectly common to hear during lecture, during studies.

Some of the students attempted to reach out to the noises once, twice, three times before under the watchful eyes of Aizawa. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.

The class of 1-A seemed almost split in half when asked if they believed their class was haunted. The number of believers only seemed to grow whenever other students checked in, never shrinking. Kaminari was the first to give in to the idea, and although some laughed at the thought, others seemed to agree, Shinsou in particular. They were the ones to try communicating first, having dragged a reluctant Sero and Kirishima with them.

According to the group of four, a recording ready for evidence, it had worked. Objects had shifted slightly when requested, murmurs stopping and starting as questions were asked, the tapping noise that haunted lectures being directed wherever someone gestured. It managed to convince others to go with, on the next trip. Nothing came out of it, not a single response. Not giving up, they tried again, armed with an EMR for voice recognition and a camera propped up on textbooks, Aizawa calmly sipping coffee as he watched with mild interest.

That session made even Aizawa a believer. No one was left out of the group after that.

The longer they stayed in the classroom, the more they learned of certain habits. If someone were to walk into the furthermost corner from the door, they would find the air colder than everywhere else, chills flowing down their spines like icy water. No other area in the room felt this way. If someone were to attempt to leave anything sitting on the desk at the very back right of the room - around the same area of the cold chills - then it would most certainly be shifted somewhere else come morning. Yaoyorozu had arrived to her classroom many a time, ready to pick up what she had left, only to find it had been moved - Aizawa's desk or a neighboring desk the most common locations. If silences stretched too long, uncomfortable or contemplative alike, a voice sounding doubled over would murmur for a while, as if to fill up the emptiness. Aizawa had grown used to an insistent tapping appearing and disappearing at random during lectures, the sound resembling a pen against a desk or nails against a window.

They debated attempting to reach out in other ways, and Mina had bravely suggested writing small notes of greeting and questions on the chalkboard. Iida in particular seemed against the idea, and debates lasting all their free time were often.

Unsurprisingly, the first to decide an answer to such a question was Shinsou, who stood up in determination one morning during one of the class's many debates and marched to the blackboard, picking up the chalk and writing a quick hello friend. When Aizawa arrived, he politely asked for the note to be left, and the students went home with bated breath.

There had been nothing. Disappointment had flooded the hearts of the students, but none of them quite gave up.

Sometimes, on particularly dreary days, the atmosphere of the room would feel like a physical weight pressing down on their shoulders and chests, and the temperature would feel like someone left the window open during a snow day. Yaoyorozu, Mineta, Tokoyami and Todoroki would have to be moved up front, seated on the floor, otherwise they would be too pale and too alert the whole day. The murmurs would be a constant, distorted presence regardless of silence or not, and the tapping would appear and disappear at random instead of just during lectures. The students and Aizawa would try and power through the dour atmosphere the best they could but it was nearly impossible to focus.

Aizawa, losing patience, formed a scolding expression. We are trying to have class and the students can't focus, he stated flatly to the room at large. Please reign in your temper.

The room was still cold, but the murmurs and tapping stopped completely. Palpable relief radiated off of everyone as they continued with class, but it didn't last when the next day they arrived and there was no sign of the presence other than the cold, chill inducing corner. The students, after Shinsou guessed what had happened, were quick to reassure that it was fine, there was no harm done, but nothing they did or said got any sort of response. When Aizawa walked in, the students quickly explained what they arrived to, and Aizawa sighed in clear exasperation.

I wasn't meaning permanently, nor everything. You were only being extreme yesterday and I asked you to reign yourself in, not grow silent. You may hover as you please.

A quick, somehow cheerful sounding tapping resonated near Aizawa's desk, soft murmurs floating in the air before both noises vanished. The room felt lighter, happier. The day resumed as it usually did.

Again, under Aizawa, the students tried communication with the presence, the EMR settled along the desk and a camera propped up. They finally got a name and age - the latter of which caused the heroes to flinch in sympathy. It admitted it was 12, and Aizawa in particular looked nauseous at the fact. They were talking to a child. A dead child.

The name, however, seemed to make Bakugo hover closer to the EMR, as if he could see the kid just by staring hard enough at it. Izuku. They got Izuku to clarify that yes, he was in fact male, and he sort of had an idea of why he was seemingly trapped here.

"W̢͠͞a̢͠n̷̨̕͟͞t̸̸͝͞͠ed̷̢̡ ̢͝t̵̛͠o̢҉ ̶̸͟b̴̸͜e̷ ͘-͘͢҉ ̴̧h̛͘͡e̸̴͜͟͟r̵̸̴̡͢o͟͠͞ ̸̵̢͢-͏͏̸̧͞ ̡͢͟w̴͏͟͏h̴͏e̷n̨̧̛͠͝ ͏̢-̸̴̕͢͢ ̶͘͢ģ̛r̡̢e̷͞w̸̢̡̨ ̵̶̡̧͏up. W̵͏̴a̷̵̧͞͏n̢̡͟͡͝t̡̡̡͢ȩ̷̡͟͡d͢ ̷͘͝-̷͢҉̸͢ ̴g͞҉͞ǫ̢ ͟͡t̨͜͟o̸̡ ͠-̷̴̧̢ ̛҉U̷̶̢͘.̸̧͢͜A͞҉̴͘͝. J̛͘͏u͜͡͏͢m̵̢̡̛p̕ȩ͝d͝҉̸͜͏ ̴̴̕͝-̷̷ ̸͝r̴̢͞o͡͠͏̡o̡҉̨f̸̨̢ ҉̢-̶̸̨ ͟͜s̡̢͜͠ą̶̸d̨͜͟ ҉-̢͟͞ ͟͏l̸͡o͝ņ̷̕̕e̡̛͞͞l҉̶͜͜y̸̷̸͘."

They did their best to greet him at the start of every day when they walked through the classroom door after that - a cheerful hello, wishing him a good morning, asking how his night went - and also did their best to include him in conversation, however briefly they managed. Cheerful tapping and soft murmurs would be their only response, but the class of 1-A understood the gestures were appreciated regardless.

Another EMR session, but this time secluded from most, found Aizawa at his desk, a hovering, watchful figure and Bakugo settled next to the chilly corner, goosebumps prickling his arms and legs. No camera was positioned. It was just them. Bakugo didn't plan on anyone else hearing anyway.

The first words he actively spoke to this hovering presence were I guess you didn't make it the way you intended, huh nerd? A long, tense silence followed, and Bakugo played back the recording.

"Ǹo҉ ͘-̷ bųt͘ ͘-̕ got̴ - śeę you!"

It was the clearest Bakugo had ever heard his voice from the EMR. It tore at his heart.

His seconds words were simply I'm sorry.

"Don̸'̛t - ̢K̛ac̷c̸han ͝- ̸ne̕ver ͡- b͟lamed̢ you ͏- w͜a̕n̢t̸ - ͘K̨acc̡h̷an͠ ͘- h͡a͝ppy."

Some tears were shed that afternoon, tucked away in a lonely classroom with a forgotten childhood friend, and a long overdue conversation was had. Aizawa never commented, not once, even as Bakugo sobbed over the stupid fucking machine that shitty deku was forced to use as a microphone. Even when he got caught in a loop of I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry and all the EMR had to say was "I ̵f̧orgive ̛you͏", clear as day, as if that erased everything. Even when that brought more tears.

Bakugo ended that session with a hoarse goodbye, tucking the EMR away like a long-lost treasure, and leaving the classroom in silence, except for the soft tapping of fingernails against a window pane.

AN: This is the first chapter, tell me how you like it!