COCOON
In the early morning at U.A. High, a yellow sleeping bag hung from the ceiling in class 1-A. Beams of sunlight shone through the blinds and drilled straight through the sleeping bag to find Aizawa's eyes. The sleeping bag twisted and writhed, and after some tugging, Aizawa burst out of it.
Aizawa noticed something amiss. The usual haze of coffee-induced insomnia was gone, replaced with perky awareness and the creeping sense of having made the wrong career choice years ago that Aizawa mentally shoved into a box along with all his other repressed trauma. With a glower, Aizawa emptied out his coffee thermos, no doubt drugged by Nezu again, and refilled it with piping hot coffee, fortified with enough caffeine to wake the dead.
As Aizawa sipped his coffee, he stared out the window. In his pale reflection, he caught a glimmer of pink behind him. He turned, but all Aizawa saw was an empty classroom, no Mina or Mina-colored accessories in evidence.
Aizawa turned back around. The pink hue was still there, practically at his back. He reached for his scarf, only to find it missing. Tensing for an impending battle, Aizawa reached for the nearest weapon he could find. On his desk, he had his fountain pen, sharpened to serve as an impromptu knife.
Aizawa moved slowly, listening for any sign of movement as he palmed the makeshift weapon. Watching his reflection carefully, he rammed the pen through where the pink blur was lurking behind him.
Pain flared through his back. Aizawa whirled and slashed the pen through the air. Blood coated its sharpened tip, he wounded his assailant, but they had vanished without a trace. He used his Quirk, but nothing appeared. As Aizawa mentally reviewed the list of possible exit routes, another twinge of pain racked his back. He spun quickly and saw a flash of pink in his peripheral vision. Spinning madly, Aizawa followed the pink blur and stabbed at it, narrowly missing each time. Finally, his pen caught the edge, and another flash of pain hit him.
Aizawa stopped. Watched the trickle of blood drip down the pink surface. Felt another twinge from his back. Horror dawning on him, Aizawa rummaged through his desk until he found the mirror he used to check his eyes.
Bright pink moth wings sprouted from his back.
Aizawa frantically searched the room for clues. He saw the sleeping bag, ripped open, still hanging by the door. His capture scarf was woven through the material, which had formed a tight cocoon.
He checked the clock. Class started in half an hour. If he could make it to Recovery Girl without-
The moment he opened the door, he came face to face with his entire class. "Whoa, your wings are so pretty!" Mina shouted. "Where'd you get them?"
Aizawa ripped the wings off his back, soaked them in gasoline, and lit them on fire. Then he stormed towards Recovery Girl's office, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
498
And this is why I don't let my brain off its leash.
