They Call It Anxiety

A Boku no Hero Academia oneshot.

Summary: Science says stress can be used to create electricity. What happens if that is the same for Kaminari Denki, who can only handle so much stress, and so much electricity, before he loses control of it all.

Warning: Rated T for language, mostly from Bakugo.

Kaminari Denki was stressed.

His class grades were sinking deep in the red zone, and test after unprepared test, he was digging himself closer to perfectly flunking out his first year at U.A.—not to mention the chaos with the villains and constantly checking over his shoulder twice. Needless to say, he had a lot on his mind, and his electricity rattled restlessly through his fingers.

"Hey, Denki?" He looked up, pencil perched tightly above his lip and below his nose. Kirishima tried not to snort when he saw it. "You okay?"

"Me, okay?" Kaminari grabbed the pencil and shoved the papers he had been studying out of the way so he could drape himself dramatically over the table. Bakugo grumbled and slapped his hand away from his soda. "No, I'm dying."

The redhead frowned, "Anything I can help you out with? We can help you out if you're worried about the English test."

"Leave me the fuck out of it." Bakugo jerked his soda away when the other blond swept his arms, making a Denki angel out of their color-coated notes. "Hey, bastard!"

"No more studying!" Kaminari whined. "My brain can't take it."

"And this is why you're fucking failing short circuit."

He pouted, "I can't help it! They make the test too hard."

Bakugo slammed his drink back in its place. "You just don't sit down and study, dumbass."

Kirishima reorganized their papers and smiled softly when Bakugo aggressively reclaimed his. He said, "I mean, the tests are pretty hard." Bakugo flashed him a look. "But Katsuki is right man. You don't really study."

Kaminari sighed dramatically and slunk back in the booth, spreading his legs so he knocked both Kirishima's and Bakugo's and provoked the other blond to ram his boot into his shin.

"Owww!" The electric user collapsed to his side and disappeared under the table. He refused to sit back up. "How can you guys study when villains are trying to kill us?"

"Easy. Kick the villain's ass, then study," Bakugo replied.

"I don't really know," Kirishima offered, equally unhelpful. "It's just something that has to be done to become a hero so that just puts a new perspective on it you know?"

"You just have no fucking attention span."

Kaminari rocketed back up, his momentum rushing a few of their guides to the edge of the table. The redhead quickly caught them.

"I'm stressed! Of course, I can't focus!"

Kirishima laid his study guide in front of him, all the blues and yellows and pinks running together to make an intolerable blob. He tried to read the first sentence, but the English phrase had no adhesive in his brain. He forgot it almost immediately after he read it.

His fingers twitched.

"Seriously though…" Kirishima spoke, softer after Bakugo jabbed an elbow into his arm. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Think you can help me cheat? I think that's the only way I'm passing Mic's test."

"Leave him the fuck alone Eijiro. He's hopeless," Bakugo grumbled and they left it like that; a glaring problem developing in silence.

Kaminari tried not to fidget—he could see the other blond flashing him glares—but he couldn't help it. The more he thought about the test, the more he started to feel like he was going to bounce off the walls. The tips of his fingers started tingling, like each cell was vibrating off one another, and soon the whole feeling crept up his arms and down his torso.

His heart stuttered to the same beat.

"Hey, guys!" Sero walked over to the table, his backpack slung over his shoulder. Mina popped up at his side with a grin. "The party has arrived!"

At once, all their eyes shifted to Kaminari, and he became extra aware of his bouncing foot, wondering how pissed off Bakugo was at hearing the heavy pounding of his heart. And now with all of them looking, he knew. They all could hear it.

"Denki?"

Kaminari slid out of the booth so fast he scattered his study guides across the floor—and while his standing friends tried to save them, he ran out of the cafe, the tips of his hair standing on end.

Even when he was a good few blocks away, even when he stopped running and caught his breath, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

He tried to hide his hands in his pockets, but the rattles progressed up his arms, and he looked like he was freezing in the warm, moist air.

He distractedly ran into people as he went to the nearest station and boarded the train, but he hardly registered it. He felt like it was only him and the trembles, even as he bumped against students from other high schools subjected to standing in the relatively crowded train. He gripped the bar above his head tightly. He couldn't hear them or anything they were saying.

He was only aware of the small discharge from his fingers.

He twisted his head quickly, searching in both directions of where his hand held the pole. People shifted uncomfortably or released their grip entirely, murmuring above the strange feeling that crept up their arms to their friends. Kaminari quickly shoved his hand in his pocket and attempted to surf with the bumpy ride.

He let out another discharge, this time aimed for himself; and when the train stopped four stops before his own, he quickly pushed his way out and ran for the exit. He took the stairs two at a time, thankful for Aizawa-sensei's god-awful training and landed on the top step without a fall.

He didn't recognize this part of town, but it didn't matter. He clenched both his fists in his pockets tightly when he felt another crackle. He just knew he couldn't be on the train.

He could kill them all.

The truth slowly coiled around his throat, and he slipped one of his hands out to stare at it, trembling and bouncing with electricity, as he let the words cycle through his brain again. He could kill them all.

It was late before Kaminari crawled back into his apartment. The GPS on his phone led him astray more times than he liked to admit, and it took a thirty-minute walk just to dispel the tension building in his arms.

He was stressed—on the edge of an abyss without a center of balance—so all he could force his body to do was shower and slip under his sheets.

Sleep came and went. He could hold onto it for only a few hours at a time; and when he could finally start dreaming, his phone buzzed next to his ear and shattered the illusion. He groaned and rolled over, clicking the lock screen on so its luminescence made him squint and turn the brightness as low as it would go.

Everything okay Denki? - K

His eyes hesitantly traveled to the time.

"SHIT!"

He had to brush his teeth on the train ride to U.A. He was only wearing half of his uniform (he honestly has no idea where his pants went) and he overslept by three hours. He needed to study before their test when he realized on the relatively empty train with a toothbrush in his mouth that he had left it at the cafe the day before—and he slowly slunk down in his seat and thought about all the ways he was screwed.

It took him until he was off the train and rinsing his mouth out in the bathroom that he realized how inherently screwed he was. It was nearly 12. English was always first period.

English was always first period.

He gripped the edges of the sink tightly and stared at the drain. If he watched himself in the mirror, he could see the tips of his hairs slowly rise.

The sink was probably ceramic—it didn't conduct the electricity slowly leaking from his fingers, and for a moment, he didn't try to stop it either.

He didn't feel like going to school anymore.

Reasons unrelated to school (such as he was broke and had no food at home) persuaded him to go to U.A. at the very least for lunch. He tried to sneak into the cafeteria, hiding behind some students from general studies; but an alert was triggered, and the sixth sense of his friends immediately activated and honed on him. Before he even realized it, he had an arm slung over his shoulder.

"Denki!" Kirishima smiled. "Glad to see you! Is everything okay? We were pretty worried when you didn't show up for classes this morning."

Kaminari smiled through it. "Yeah, I just overslept like an idiot."

It was the truth, but it sounded fake and hollow when he said it, and all he could think about was clinging to the station's sink and releasing too much electricity.

"That sucks man. Maybe Mic will let you retake that English test."

He knew he wouldn't. He basically had to beg on his hands and knees for the last redoes, and he only got them because he started to pester Aizawa-sensei too and pissed him off enough where he made Present Mic give him another test, so he would shut up. He knew he would have to accept the F on this and come to terms with the fact that he was now failing all of his class.

But he didn't say that. He didn't say any of that.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Kirishima released him so he could get lunch, but he wasn't hungry anymore. He was thinking too much about his grades and his bleak future—so just as quickly as he came, he slunk out again and walked through U.A.'s halls with no place in mind.

If he could leave, he would. But then again, if these were his last few days at U.A., should he waste them like that? He sighed frustrated and shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. Waiting for the ax was stressing him out.

And he felt his stress go into overdrive when he heard a voice behind him, shouting down the hallway.

"Hey, Shouta! Wait up!"

His blood stalled in his fingers, and he quickly searched for a place to hide, but it was too late. He was spotted by the last person he wanted to see. He had one leather arm slung over his sensei's shoulders, and his eyes staring into his soul. Kaminari turned to face the window, but he had been caught. His arms started to quiver.

"Oi, Kaminari," Present Mic spoke, stopping with Aizawa. His sensei grumbled about his work, but his voice was drained away. "Why did you skip class today?"

His honest answer "I overslept" was swallowed up by the roaring in his ears. He wanted to run away like he did in the cafe—but he knew he couldn't run from his teachers, the people responsible for his future.

Future. It was an awfully heavy word for something so hopeful. His body twitched from a small electrical discharge. He hoped they didn't notice.

"You're not one to be quiet, Kaminari," Aizawa said, but still nothing. He cast a glance at his fellow teacher and best friend, who quirked an eyebrow and mouthed "what's with your student?"

Kaminari grappled with his electricity. He tried to harness it, to push it down into something small; but the more he worried about it, the bigger it became, and he knew he couldn't control it any longer.

"Please… leave…" He whispered softly, his mind running over all the test days and the bad grades and the villain attacks and the absolutely stressful high school year, and it all came out in one burst of electricity.

Indiscriminate Discharge. 2,000,000 volts.

He knew he could stay conscious, but he didn't want to be. He let his mind slip from his body, away from the stress, so even for just a moment, he could be free of it.

There was darkness, and there was light. He was floating, and he was falling. Up and down constantly shifted around him. Limbo was rather boring. It wasn't a dream—it actually was more of a nightmare, with nothing but his thoughts and the sinking feeling to accompany him.

"Man, your quirk is pretty useless, isn't it? Especially when you go stupid."

"I thought electricity was supposed to be cool?"

I could kill them all.

He hated the quirk computed into his genetics. His acts of brain-cell sacrificing after one attack were just that—a sacrifice. Because Kaminari Denki was afraid.

He was very afraid of what his quirk could do.

He found a switch in his brain. He knew how to not conduct electricity through his skull to prevent him from becoming what the others called "stupid"; but sometimes, he just flipped that protective screen off and let the electricity flood his brain. In case he almost hurts someone. In case it tried to kill.

In case he tried to kill.

He never wanted to hurt anybody. But then he did, and it hurt, and he wanted to rip the quirk from his body. He always saw their faces, their haunting faces, these voices coming and fading, whispering and screaming his name.

He tried to cover his ears, but the voices still bled through, and he wanted it to end. His fingers twitched and exhaled a small current, and when he opened his eyes limbo dissolved into a bleak room and voices. He tried to piece the conversation together from the mush the ringing in his ears dissolved it into.

"Is there damage to the school?" A cheery voice. He racked his brain for the owner, and her picture materialized in his head. Recovery Girl.

"No. The electricity moves through him before it appears as an attack outside. I erased it before it got that far." Sensei. "Static electricity starts to affect his hair. So, it's obvious."

"Static electricity?" His heart rammed in his ribcage hard, and he tried to swallow his growing distress. Present Mic. He closed his eyes again and pretended to be asleep. "Does that happen during exams a lot?"

"You never noticed before?" He wondered what face Aizawa-sensei was making.

"I noticed! I just didn't know what it was about!" Present Mic said defensively.

His sensei sighed. "He's a bad test taker Hizashi. The stress affects his quirk."

"They think stress could actually be used to create electricity," Recovery Girl added. "I can imagine at this stage, there is only so much he can wield; so, the added electricity from stress is affecting him as equally mentally as it is physically."

They went quiet, and he wondered if they were staring at him, frowning faces shaking their heads disapprovingly at the prospect that lay before them.

But then Present Mic spoke.

"I noticed, about the test thing Shouta…" He said slowly. "That's why I let him retake the test outside of class. I should have recognized it as stress, especially when he skipped this morning—"

"Hizashi, you can't be blaming yourself," Aizawa mumbled. "And you can't dumb down the test either. I think he would resent it."

"But at least it would be doing something! We have to help out our student!"

Our student.

They noticed it, the stress. It wasn't an invisible curse he thought he was hiding from the world. They knew, and they cared, and they wanted to help. Present Mic let him willingly retake the exams. Aizawa-sensei kept an eye on him all throughout class. They didn't want him to flunk out.

Kaminari didn't want to lose these teachers.

He didn't open his eyes when he heard them leave. He didn't open his eyes when he heard Recovery Girl go back to work. He just laid there, thinking.

And for once, he felt no stress haunting him.

He still disliked his quirk, for all the reasons he didn't want to press; but at least now, he could come with terms with its power, and, for once, finally and completely control it.

Kaminari went home after a half-day with Recovery Girl and returned early the next day of school. Normally, the early risers stuck around outside the school, chatting with friends; but this time, he made a B-line for the entrance.

Present Mic was already in his classroom, preparing for 1-B's English lesson first period. He nervously glanced at the clock, before sucking up his courage to step inside. His teacher immediately looked at him, and he tried not to let the anxiety convert into stress over the situation as he spoke softly, "Good morning, sensei… I... can you help me, with the last lesson...? I don't think I'm getting the tenses right and I think… I need a little more help."

He met his eyes tentatively and swallowed hard. The last time they looked at each other, he had lost all control of his quirk. But something was different now. Very different.

"Of course, my listener!" Present Mic grinned. "Come over here and we'll sort this all out!"

Kaminari Denki was bad at tests. That couldn't be changed. But what could be changed was his perspective, the removal of a burden he had placed solely on himself. Maybe he was just bad at academics in general. But with Present Mic reteaching him the prior lesson, coaxing him to repeat words syllable by syllable, he knew he could at least try to be better. He could stop whining about an inevitable future he truly could not predict, and actively work to change it.

He could try not to let the stress consume him.

The next test was a B+. A B+.

He had nearly cried in class. He wanted to show all his friends, all his teachers, scream it from the top of the roof, but sitting there, holding that sheet of paper in his hands was all the reassurance that he needed.

Present Mic flashed him a smile from the front of the room.

His fingers trembled from excitement.

"What that stupid ass grin on your face for?" Bakugo asked after class.

And Kaminari smiled more, making the other blond roll his eyes and shove his hands into his pockets.

"No reason," he replied. "Just that I got a B+~"

Bakugo snorted, "What, you think you're hot shit now?"

"Maybe I could be the one teaching you English in the future~!
Kirishima joined in. "Hey, that would be awesome Denki! English tenses are kicking my butt."

"Fuck that! I can do it myself!" Bakugo marched off angrily. Kaminari looked at his friend.

"Uh….What's his problem?"

The redhead tried to hide a grin. "I think he's upset because he got a C. Present Mic didn't approve of his use of "damn" and "shit" in his essay."

And they both laughed.

In his unconscious state, Kaminari refers to people he hurt with his electricity. Would you like to know who they are? Let me know if you would like me to write a one-shot about my head cannons for Kaminari's past and the way it has changed his view on his quirk.

Soul Spirit