I love the idea of Nezu just being the most chaotic being there is, and thus, this story was born.
I tried to separate when characters were speaking English or Japanese. With English being in italics.
I hope everyone enjoys.
"You look uncomfortable," Nezu noted as he looked over at his companion for the morning. Wearing black dress pants, a white dress shirt, and a slightly wrinkled jacket, Shota Aizawa could not look more out of his depth. His right hand kept sliding up toward his neck like he was going to grab the capture weapon that typically rested there, only to stop halfway as he realized he didn't have it.
"I think your tie is straight enough," Nezu added as Aizawa grabbed his tie to play off his reaching motion. Aizawa nodded and slowly lowered his twitching hands. His posture slouched as he walked, and Nezu was sure his hands would be resting in his pockets if Nezu didn't specifically warn him not to do that.
"Why do I have to do this again?" Aizawa grumbled. Maybe to himself. Maybe not. But, Nezu's sensitive ears overheard. He flashed a grin at the hero.
"Because you expelled a student," Nezu answered. "Five of them to be exact."
Not that Nezu hated the idea. Aizawa presented it at the beginning of the year. His reasons were succinct and to the point. No words were minced as he presented this idea. Just like always with Aizawa. But Nezu knew just how much hurt and care lay behind the thought process.
"You gave me permission," Aizawa stated.
"I did," Nezu agreed cheerily. "Which is why I'm joining in on your visit."
"I don't see why we need to visit the parents," Aizawa said. "It's not going to change my mind."
"It's not your mind they want to change," Nezu stated as they approached the front gate. Aizawa opened it, and Nezu stepped inside. They started walking down the path toward the front door.
"Yours," Aizawa sighed.
"Especially because you're a new teacher," Nezu said. Technically, this was Aizawa's second year of teaching, but he had spent the year before shadowing the other teachers. Learning how they ran their classrooms and worked with students. Now, he was teaching Class 1-A as their homeroom teacher.
"Not a new hero," Aizawa muttered under his breath. His temperament was foul today. Especially because he returned from a late night patrol to find Nezu waiting there with a suit and tie that fit him perfectly. Or maybe he was prickly because Nezu insisted he shave. They had standards to uphold after all.
Despite continuing his nightly patrols, Aizawa promised that his hero work would not interfere with his duties as a teacher. Nezu believed the man. He also knew that there was a lot of nighttime crime around UA. Most criminals found the embrace of the night to be safer than when multiple pro heroes roamed the streets during the day. Eraser Head would help put a stop to that line of thinking.
"Your lack of reputation precedes you," Nezu said. It earned a grunt out of the other man. Most civilians wouldn't recognize the name Eraser Head. Most parents thought that Aizawa was a teacher that Nezu hired from the farthest parts of Japan or even another country.
But Nezu had done his research into the underground hero. He had even asked the man to provide some of the cases he had been working on. His two references, Midnight and Present Mic, spoke very highly of him. Plus there were Aizawa's transcripts and teacher comments from his time at UA.
Aizawa was a logical man who hid over two decades of hurt behind a wall of stoicism, apathy, and laziness. Every move he made was calculated, and no energy was wasted. And if he was made to waste energy by something inane, the mistake was not made twice. Aizawa was also extremely harsh on his students, demanding more of them now than what was expected out of second years.
And Aizawa had made his fair share of mistakes along the way. Nezu had talked to him twice about how they were training kids to become heroes, and they were not heroes yet. Today, he was going to teach Aizawa the hell that was the parent teacher conference. Especially if the man was going to continue expelling kids who didn't live up to his demanding standards.
As they stopped at the front door, Nezu cleared his throat and motioned toward the doorbell. Aizawa silently pressed the button. Normally, parents come to the school for these conferences. This kind of visit was uncommon, but there were circumstances out of their control.
The door opened, and Nezu found a woman waiting for them: Mrs. Imu. She wore a pinstripe suit and a skirt. Her gaze moved to Nezu before focusing directly on Aizawa. Her expression was no nonsense and told them that she meant business.
"You must be Eraser Head," the woman said as she dipped her head toward Aizawa. Yet, her eyes stayed focused on the man. Finally, her gaze moved to Nezu. "And Principal Nezu. Welcome to our home."
"It is an honor," Nezu said as he bowed. Thankfully, he didn't have to nudge Aizawa into moving as the teacher bowed with him.
"Come in," Mrs. Imu said as she stepped back. Nezu was the first to take a careful step into the house. He began to take off his shoes, but Mrs. Imu let out a small laugh. "No need. We'll be heading to the outside foyer. My husband needs the air after all."
"Of course," Nezu said. They walked down a marble lined hall before making a right and heading out of a door. Nezu looked around the large room. The walls were not typical at all. Instead, there were screens all around like some kind of cage. It made Nezu shift uncomfortably.
There was a small table with a radio on it. Next to the table were two sunchairs. And sitting in one of those chairs was a man wearing a suit. There were horrid scars like claw marks running down the right side of his face. As he turned to face them, the left side of his body seemed to respond slower.
"Mr. Imu," Nezu greeted with another bow. Next to him, Aizawa didn't move a muscle. Nezu turned his head and saw that Aizawa was staring at Mr. Imu. His eyes were widened slightly.
"Eraser," Nezu whispered as he hoped the man got the message to bow.
"It's been a long time, Eraser," Mr. Imu said as he shifted. "I almost didn't recognize you without the scruff."
"Mr. Imu, I am sorry," Aizawa began as he slowly bowed. There was an uncertain look on his face as he straightened.
"My husband doesn't blame you for paralyzing him," Mrs. Imu said as she passed by Aizawa. There was no missing the way that the teacher flinched at the words. Hoping to ease the tension, Nezu smiled at the two parents as they were directed to sit in chairs.
He had looked into the background of Mr. and Mrs. Imu before the visit. Mrs. Imu was a former hero with plenty of arrests under her belt but a less than pristine reputation for how she handled criminals. Mr. Imu was a former criminal who was busted in a raid that nearly killed him. Nezu did not know that Aizawa had been part of that raid.
If he had known, their child would not have been placed in Aizawa's class, and Aizawa would certainly not be part of this meeting. Mrs. Imu smiled at them, "Would either of you like tea?"
"Certainty," Nezu said with a bow of his head.
"No thank you," Aizawa muttered. Mrs. Imu turned and walked away.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Mr. Imu said as he settled back in his seat. "I must admit that I thought my son's suspension had something to do with my past as a villain. It wasn't until I read the report for myself and saw your name that I realized it wasn't just based on prejudice."
Aizawa looked like he wanted to shrink into the chair. Nezu just nodded and sat forward, "We take the misuse of quirks very seriously at UA. There is always the expectation that students will be injured in class and during training exercises. It is a fact of their intensive training and learning how to use their quirks. But, your son was found using his quirk outside of class to bully two students from general studies."
"I can't see my son doing that," Mr. Imu protested as his wife walked back toward them holding onto two teacups. One was handed to Nezu, and he bowed his head gratefully. "And were there more witnesses to this than just you, Eraser?"
"Just the two students," Aizawa answered as he slowly looked up at the man. "It took place during lunch when most of the students were in the cafeteria."
"Surely some students eat outside where you claim this took place," Mrs Imu insisted.
"There were no other witnesses," Aizawa repeated.
"Isn't that a little suspicious?" Mrs. Imu asked. A small scowl touched Aizawa's face, but he remained silent. "We're supposed to believe the word of a pro hero who has past issues with my family."
"I didn't know who your son was," Aizawa began.
"So you didn't read the files that the principal told us he compiled for each of the homeroom teachers?" Mrs. Imu pressed. Aizawa's jaw snapped shut. "So you don't care enough to even look into the background of your students? How are you supposed to plan on how to teach them?"
"I give a quirk assessment on the first day," Aizawa said as his eyes shot toward the principal. Nezu simply watched the exchange. He, as humans like to say, had no dogs in this fight. Well, he did, but he was simply going to sit back and watch Aizawa defend himself.
"Where you threatened to expel the worst performer if I recall my son's words correctly," Mrs. Imu nodded. "But then, you expelled two of them, didn't you? Who are you to decide that you are going to take away a dream that a student has? You are killing their dreams."
"Then again, you killed my husband's chances of ever walking again," Mrs. Imu added snidely. Aizawa flinched again.
"Mrs. Imu, I understand your anger at Eraser, but his past with your husband has no bearing on what happened to your son," Nezu interrupted. "I do agree that Eraser should have read over the files to get a better understanding of his student's quirks, but at UA, we give our teachers near complete power over their classes."
"He's right," Mr. Imu said as he reached out to touch his wife's arm. Nezu lifted the tea cup, and an almost undetectable bitter smell made his nose crinkle. He waited a moment before lowering the teacup. Best not to drink that. Tea should never be bitter. "We cannot let what happened in the past cloud our judgment today. Especially when we are trying to help our son."
"We just want to know what we can do to lift his expulsion," Mr. Imu confessed. Slowly, he lifted his hand out to Aizawa. "Or at least a discussion on his behavior. A civil one. No hard feelings. With the past staying where it belongs."
Aizawa hesitated, and Nezu's head tilted. Mr. Imu seemed to want more than words as an assurance. Or maybe he believed that actions spoke louder. The shaking of hands could signal a truce to the former villain. A sign that Aizawa was willing to work with them. If the man wanted an assurance, it was only right to give it to him.
Aizawa glanced at Nezu. The principal just smiled and left the ball in his court. Aizawa slowly stood, and Nezu did as well. Not as a sign of support of course. Just to put this horrid tea down.
Aizawa glanced at Mrs. Imu, who just watched him closely as she stood by her husband. The pro averted his gaze just as quick. Aizawa walked toward Mr. Imu, extending a hand. As he did, Mrs. Imu walked past him.
And that's when it all went wrong. As Aizawa completely passed Mrs. Imu, she turned toward him. Her hand started to glow green. Nezu's eyes widened as his little legs rushed forward. There was no time for a verbal warning. Instead, he leaped forward to grab the woman's hand before she could touch Aizawa's back. Instead, one paw grabbed the woman's fingers as her palm touched Aizawa's shoulder.
And the world exploded in a mixture of colors for him. Nezu felt like his stomach had been left behind, and he heard air whistling past his ears. His eyes screwed shut. When they reopened, a yelp left him. A hand wrapped around his leg as his world tumbled end over end.
Nezu could see the ground rushing to meet him, but he was pulled back into a tight grip. Cloth covered his head. He quickly realized that Aizawa had pulled him close, protecting his body with his arms.
The ground was also coming up very quickly.
Much more quickly than Nezu predicted as he heard Aizawa grunt in pain as they crashed into something, but his stomach did a sudden flip. And he realized they had done a roll because Aizawa had bounced off of something. The hero twisted again, and Nezu felt them crash into a second object. His head rattled against Aizawa's chest, but two hands kept closed.
Which was a good thing as they crashed into a third item before Nezu felt his stomach go on another rollercoaster ride before a heavy weight slammed onto him. Aizawa's arms were still protecting his body, but that only made things worse as the man's full body weight was on him.
Nezu took a few moments to regulate his breathing and allow his stomach to settle. He knew that Mrs. Imu had a teleportation quirk, but he never expected her to be so bold as to use it on them. Especially since it seemed like she was trying to kill them.
"Aizawa, please get off of me," Nezu stated. "It is hard to breathe."
There was no answer for a few moments. Nezu could hear Aizawa's pained breathing, and with his head being pressed against the man's chest, he could hear his racing heart. Nezu attempted to squeeze out of the grip, but Aizawa still had his arms around him and was lying on top of him.
"Aizawa, can you hear me at all?" Nezu questioned. After a few moments, he heard a groan escape the man's throat. It was better than nothing at least. "Can you move?"
Aizawa made no movement and didn't give another groan. Nezu sighed and tried to pull back as much as he could, but there wasn't much for him to do. He sighed and turned his head to create some breathing room. There was no need to panic. All he needed was a moment to think.
With his nose no longer pressed directly against Aizawa's suit jacket, he was able to breathe just a little easier. He carefully breathed in his nose, taking in the smells around them. The strongest was the cologne that Aizawa had put on before they left. Beyond that was a pungent smell that made his nose crinkle: trash. They had landed in either a landfill of some sort or an alleyway full of trash.
He was not sure which one he preferred.
Reaching a paw back, he felt cold, wet concrete. There was a rumble from above him as thunder ripped across the sky. This was not near Mrs. Imu's house. The weather had been completely clear, and it was not supposed to rain. Where were they? Aizawa's breath suddenly hitched, and the arms around Nezu tensed slightly.
"Aizawa," Nezu repeated. A strange noise left the man. Not a groan but something else. "Are you able to move? You are quite heavy."
"Zash?" Aizawa slowly asked. The single word sounded like it took too much effort, like Aizawa was trying to pronounce each letter. There was a certain slur to his words. Nezu frowned as he felt the man's body start to go limp against him.
"Aizawa, you cannot pass out right now," Nezu said as he tried to twist and move his body. The arms wrapped around him rendered him unable to move, not to mention the dense weight on top of him. He was efficiently trapped. Nezu tried moving his own arms and was able to rest a paw against Aizawa's chest.
It was when Aizawa's breathing began to even out that Nezu knew he had to take more drastic measures. His claws slid out, and he frowned because he was not going to take pleasure in this. His claws sank into Aizawa's chest, tearing through his shirt and piercing skin. There was another hitch of breath, and Nezu felt the weight on him pull back slightly as Aizawa tried to get away from the source of pain.
"I'm sorry," Nezu said as he pushed his sharp claws in more. He pushed the rest of his body back against Aizawa's arms. One of Aizawa's hands moved to grab the paw embedded in his chest, and Nezu was able to slip his head under his arm. There was another arm wrapped around his waist, but this was still better than being completely trapped.
Nezu retracted his claws and then moved his other paw to Aizawa's shoulder. Another apology left him as he dug his claws in once again. Aizawa hissed and moved back again. This time, Nezu put his full body weight into the man's shoulder, making sure not to dig his claws in too much.
Aizawa seemed to shrink away from the contact, and Nezu took the moment to squeeze out of his grasp and then continued to push against Aizawa's shoulder until the hero rolled onto his back. A groan escaped him, and his breathing picked up.
"I am sorry," Nezu repeated as looked around the thin alleyway. There was an overfilled trash bin next to them, and it seemed like that was what they had crashed into before falling off. Rain was falling from the sky, but he didn't see anyone or any threats around them. Another look up showed him a red, white, and blue flag flying over the alley.
Ah. They were in America.
Nezu put his full attention on Aizawa. There was a healthy amount of blood on the side of his face, above his eye. Nezu examined the cut on his head. It was deep, and there was already bruising around it. Nezu spoke, "I believe you have a concussion, Aizawa."
Aizawa's head moved slightly, and Nezu felt an arm bump into him as Aizawa blindly reached up for his tie. He pulled it away as his breaths started to come out a little heavier. Nezu frowned and examined the gouges he had made in Aizawa's chest. It was deeper than he wanted, but there wouldn't be permanent damage.
Looking over Aizawa, there didn't seem to be any visible injuries. But a fall like that couldn't be good. Nezu deftly cut through Aizawa's tie. Then, he started to undo the buttons on the upper half of his shirt. The heaving breaths calmed slightly.
"Try not to move," Nezu ordered. Aizawa's eyes were still closed, but his eyelids were moving around. His eyes suddenly screwed shut before he tried to open them. Aizawa winced and kept his eyes closed. "Can you hear me?"
"Mmm."
It wasn't much of an answer, but it told Nezu that Aizawa was at least a little cognizant. He placed a paw to Aizawa's shoulder. Aizawa groaned as he slowly placed a hand to his face. Nezu retracted his paw and studied the small amount of blood on his claws.
It was the sound of laughing that grabbed Nezu's attention. His head shot to the side as he saw a group of men enter the alley. They all wore a mix of jackets and cargo pants. Two of them held onto baseball bats. A third was holding a gun in his hands. No, he had two fingers resting inside the trigger guard and was spinning it in his hand.
That could not be safe at all. Aizawa made a noise as he started to turn his head. Nezu shushed him and placed a paw back on his chest to keep the injured man from doing anything.
"And what the hell is this?" one of the men demanded. The one spinning the gun of course. Nezu gripped Aizawa's shirt and studied the three men who slowly approached. All of them were staring at him like he was some kind of zoo exhibit. It immediately raised his hackles.
"It's a rat!" one of the others yelled as he lifted his bat. They spoke English, and Nezu had to focus to understand them.
"I am not a rat," Nezu began as he made sure to make contact with all three of them. Each of them looked to be a little older than a teenager. Two of them were chewing on cigarettes as the one with the gun took a drag of his. Nezu forced himself to smile. "Some call me a stout, a rat, a mammal, and other things. But that does not matter! My name is Nezu."
"I'm going to kill him," the man with the gun decided as he cocked his gun.
"There is no need to be like that," Nezu said as he raised his paws. "I'm sorry to disturb your night."
"How can you talk?" one of the men with the baseball bats asked. The other pushed his gun out of the way and pointed his bat toward Aizawa. "And what's wrong with that guy?"
"A quirk misplaced us," Nezu answered. He had practiced English in a controlled environment with other professionals. He wasn't sure how to make his tone more informal and to show these kids he was not a threat.
"Give us one reason to not shoot you," the one with the gun ordered. His buddy laughed.
"Why don't you beg?" the buddy added. Nezu felt his eye twitch. It was bad enough that these children were mocking him and threatening him with a gun. And while he could more than defend himself, Aizawa was dealing with a severe concussion at best and brain damage at worst.
"I'm not going to beg," Nezu stated. He motioned to Aizawa. The pro hero wasn't really stirring. His eyes kept drifting open and close, but he wasn't registering the world around him. "We were out on business, and a quirk took us here. I just need to know where we are."
"You're in Frank the Tank's territory," the boy with the gun said as he stood straighter. Nezu frowned. Frank was the leader of this... gang? But tank? Did they mean the old military vehicle, or was it some kind of American expression?
"And who are you two exactly?" one of the boys with the baseball bat questioned. They seemed more amused by Nezu than anything. If Nezu didn't have so much control of his body, his short fur would be bristling.
"I am Nezu," the principal repeated as he tried to force a smile on his face. It felt more like a feral grin. His paw stayed on Aizawa's chest. "This is Shota Aizawa. He is my..."
Nezu found himself trailing off because the English word was escaping him. Aizawa was one of his teachers, but he felt like telling that to these boys would get lost in translation. They would think that Aizawa was a teacher of Nezu, not that Nezu was the principal. Though he could just explain that point beforehand, they might not know what UA was.
And, he wasn't sure how impressed they would be with Nezu just being a principal. Especially because that gun kept pointing toward him. Time to pivot then. Aizawa would be his bodyguard. That would mean that Nezu was an important enough person to be protected and would hopefully dissuade these kids from making a stupid mistake.
Now what was the English word for bodyguard?
"He is my assassin," Nezu said with that smile still on his face. But, that word didn't feel right. The word he said was not bodyguard. But, it had the desired effect as the men, well boys is what Nezu saw them as, all stiffened. The one with the gun lowered it instantly. The other two looked nervous.
"He's lying," one of them began.
"Nah. Listen to his accent. Where are you from?" the boy with the gun questioned.
"Japan," Nezu said with a small bow. One of the boys said a curse that Nezu didn't know.
"He's Yakuza!" the same boy gasped. Yakuza? Hmm. Nezu could work with this. He just had to make sure these boys feared him. "Does that man kill people for you?"
Kill? Nezu must have really mistranslated bodyguard. Yet, he still found himself nodding. Anything to put fear in these kids just to get them to back off. The boy with the gun gulped as he stared down at Aizawa. Specifically at the paw that Nezu had wrapped back up into Aizawa's shirt.
"You're going to kill him," one of them gasped. "I...is it because he failed you?"
This conversation was not going the way Nezu intended, but he was also told he needed to let things happen more. Not to stress when things don't go as planned. To... what was it called? Go with the flow?
And this plan had gone haywire when they were teleported all the way to America. So, to the flow he would go.
Nezu just kept smiling as he looked at Aizawa. The claw marks in his chest had bled enough to stain some of his shirt, and it was clear that Nezu's claws had made those marks. In fact, it could be argued that it looked like he had torn his claws through Aizawa's forehead to create that gash.
"Well, I am stranded in a foreign country because of an accident with a quirk," Nezu answered.
"D...do you want the gun?" the boy with the baseball bat asked.
"I'm not giving him my gun!" the other snapped. Their third friend hadn't said much. Other than asking Nezu if he was going to murder Aizawa. "Just give him your bat."
Oh no. They really thought he was going to kill Aizawa. This was not good. This is why he did not go with the flow. He found it and plotted a path to it. Could he just tell them to leave?
"Frank is going to love this rat," the second boy said. He grabbed a sharp knife from his pocket and slid it toward Nezu. Well, it seemed like they really expected him to go through with this. So he had to. No telling what would happen if he didn't. He walked toward the knife and picked it up.
"Do you know why I gave him a concussion first and knocked him senseless?" Nezu asked. He walked to Aizawa's side and ran a paw over his pocket. He pulled out Aizawa's broken phone a moment later. Of course. The phone was dropped, and Nezu climbed on top of him.
"Because this must be slow," Nezu said as he eyed the man's stomach. Find the right spot. Nothing vital. Nowhere that would bleed a lot. It would be nothing more than a prick. Nezu's eyes darted around Aizawa's stomach, and he found his target.
Nezu steadied himself and stabbed the pro hero in the gut. Aizawa grunted, and his eyes snapped open. His hand moved to the wound, and Nezu sunk his claws into the man's arm. He switched back to Japanese. "Don't fight this, Aizawa. This has to happen."
Nezu put pressure on the right side of the stab wound. A grunt left Aizawa as he turned that way, and Nezu hooked his claws into Aizawa's shirt to make sure he settled on his side, "I am very sorry, Aizawa. Just breathe for me, okay? Don't move this knife."
Aizawa's eyes were wide open, but his pupils were completely dilated. He looked like he still wasn't understanding what was going on. Nezu continued to scratch away at Aizawa's arm, digging in enough to draw blood. The boys were watching him in shock, so he had to hide his actions behind Aizawa.
Nezu reached his paw into Aizawa's other pocket and felt his paws rest against a knife. They were definitely going to have a talk after Aizawa was specifically told not to bring a knife to the parent teacher conference. He didn't even know how the man had enough time to put a knife in there.
It took a bit of effort to pull out the knife and make sure the little gang couldn't see it. Then, he ran each flat end of the blade against the part of Aizawa's arm that he had been clawing up, soaking the blade in blood. The erasure hero had moved one of his hands to his stab wound, and he was putting pressure on the area. Not trying to pull the knife out. Good.
"I will get you help," Nezu promised in Japanese. Aizawa slowly made eye contact with him before glancing back down at his stab wound. His hand gripped the knife that Nezu had left in there.
Nezu walked around Aizawa and held up the bloody knife, making sure to hide the handle. It didn't really look like the boy's knife, but from afar and with blood on the blade, he was confident it would pass for it. Or these boys would be stupid enough to fall for it.
"I'm keeping this," Nezu said as he switched back to English. The boys were staring at him before looking at the prone form of Aizawa. Nezu glanced back at the pro hero, who was curled up on his side, hopefully putting pressure on the wound. "Now come. I want to meet this Tank named Frank."