Haunting

Chapter Eight: Eyes

He appeared, hovering and silent and painfully shy, in the corner of the staff room one day out of nowhere. At least, for no reason that Nedzu was aware of, although he had no doubt he was missing quite a few pieces of this puzzle.

Nedzu wasn't as unfamiliar with this phenomenon as people might think. There had been many times he walked into a home of a student or a meeting room, unsuspecting, only for there to be whisps floating about the walls, glimpses of faces long past with twisted scars and disfigured limbs. They floated and wandered, stuck in a loop of cries and isolation, trapped in their own heads. Nedzu caught on quickly that he was the only one that could see them, and so he kept the little snippets of the past to himself.

Usually, they kept to themselves anyway. The most they would do - or could do - was wander to the ceiling to flicker a light, or put a hand through the glass to make static in the television screen. Harmless, easily excusable.

This one, however, was stronger.

He floated near the ceiling, tucked away in the corner like he was afraid of getting in the way regardless of the fact that no one could see him. An observer, always listening, always watching. Younger than his students and bone white, Nedzu could barely make out the blood-smeared face in the transparent mist that was his form. Some days he was more opaque but he was never easily visible, with a twisted leg and arms that seemed to have taken some serious damage - perhaps in a fall - and eyes that tracked every breath in the staff room, wide and lifeless but contradictingly alert.

Nedzu knew he was different. The way he watched the teachers as they conversed was too sharp to be normal, too conscious and aware of his surroundings. His attachment to Aizawa seemed especially strange - as far as Nedzu was aware the man was just as ignorant to the little ghost as the rest of them were. But he didn't interfere or cause any type of fuss, so Nedzu was perfectly content to let the child do as he pleased. He seemed to get some enjoyment over the banter, and seeing a smile pass over his scarred face was enough to ease some of the ache the sight of a dead child caused him.

On a rare occasion, he would hover close to the table as Nedzu spoke, wrangling his broken leg into some form of a criss-cross position in the air with his hands folded patiently in his lap. He just...watched. He tried his best to make his staring subtle, gaze pausing just above Aizawa's shoulder, occasionally Hizashi's but that was even rarer. The kid wouldn't go near anyone else. Not even Nedzu.

Aizawa caught him staring multiple times. He never asked, just smirked to himself with half amusement and half exasperation, and Nedzu knew the man was more aware than he had originally thought. Hizashi would look at him, confused for just a moment before he sneaked a glance at Aizawa and understanding would pass over his face. The rest of the teachers were only confused, looking at the two men with furrowed brows and questioning eyes as the principal would stare at them while he spoke.

He visited Class 1-A, out of pure curiosity. The effect that small child had over a classroom - and its occupants - was astounding.

The students seemed aware of the child just like Aizawa, but they curbed their interaction when they realized he was there, most likely thinking he would be upset somehow. They bit their tongues and made their greetings more subtle, more subdued, and Nedzu had to admit if he couldn't see the kid their ruse might have worked. But he could, and the little ghost was thrilled at every greeting he received.

He no longer hovered uneasily in the corner, barely fumes. He was more opaque now that he was comfortable, floating about the students' heads and his form flickering like candlelight in his excitement. His small body buzzed, grew fuzzy at the edges, and the window panes actually rattled in their frames.