Pudding Time

He remembered nothing, aside from slime sticking to his skin and sealing his throat shut. His lungs fought to get air in but it only sucked in more of the gelatinous substance, choking him. Then, there was no more sticky gunk trapping his body but there was a splitting pain in his head, but beyond that, his memory felt fuzzy and white. Busy.

Waking up with a body stiff and aching in a white room with the sound of sniffling. A soft moan of discomfort left him before a sudden gasp sounded beside him. A woman came into his view, face blurry but he could tell it was red and whoever she was started to sob. Not soon after, he became tangled in two arms squeezing him and crying out, "IZUKU!"

He remembered doctors of sorts enter and started asking questions he didn't know how to answer. The words buzzed around in his head for a moment, fully prepared to voice them but the mouth to brain connection fizzed out and he was sitting there fumbling over words that didn't sound right and came in the wrong order. Slightly slurred.

How are you feeling? On a scale of one-to-ten, how would you rate your pain? Any pain in your head or throat? What about your chest?

Those he could answer with a nod of a head or a rise of his small, shaky fingers.

Can you tell me your name? Your birth date? Where you were born?

He couldn't remember.

He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't he c ouldn' t cou ld n' t

c

o

u

l

d

n

'

t—

The fuss he made brought him and the woman he curiously recognized to tears. There was a frustration built in his chest and rushed through his throat, burning the heavy rock that sat there.

A moment later, he laid there with heavy eyes and a stuffy nose when the doctor came back and explained something to the woman ( his mom! His mama… ). Saying something about trauma and head injuries. Amnesia, he said… He wondered what that was? He couldn't think.

His mind grew fuzzy again, dimming and he felt the slime. In his thoughts. His mind, his dreams. Slithering across his chest and tightening his ribs together, up his neck and into his mouth. The thick, disgusting, sewer jello bubbled and erupted from his throat, choking him and running through his body.

----

The End Class knew Izuku didn't like jelly. They found that out when Kayano tried to bomb Korosensei with a giant giga pudding that one time—he only seem slightly off put before leaving to gag a few times, but other than that, they just assumed he was, you know, just squeamish. Or maybe allergic. Something like that.

Some of the kids sometimes teased him with cups of pudding and jello but only for a while before getting rid of it. Izuku always laughed it off anyway, always finding a way to get them back with Karma's help (Izuku could be quite the trickster when he wanted to be).

They didn't know it was so much more than 'discomfort.'

Which was why it was perplexing to see him freeze up and turn white as a sheet when Okuda's experimental jelly concoction (she swears it didn't have chemicals in it! … Not this time, at least) blew up in his face (how about those chemicals again…?). All eyes glued to the frantically apologizing Okuda and trembling Izuku before they began to slowly return to their own science projects. Well, they would have, if Izuku hadn't started hyperventilating.

He could feel every inch of the jello, sliding down his cheek and hanging off his hair— crawling to his lips, in his mouth, down his throat, suffocating him, choking him, KILLING HI—

"Whoopsie daisy," that was Korosensei's cue to rush over and rapidly clean the freckled boy of that gelatinous gunk all while gently reprimanding Okuda for being reckless in her experiments.

("You need to be more careful, Okuda. What if that had been a more volatile experiment and burned instead of simply surprised?")

"There, all better," Korosensei finished by combing the boy's untamable curls but his emerald gaze still stared forward with empty eyes full of terror. A tear trickles down his right cheek. Korosensei's expression seemed to dampen despite never physically changing. "Oh dear. Alright class, I'll be back with Midoriya-kun. Continue following the project instructions; I'll send Karasuma-sensei to look over you all while I'm gone. Come now, Midoriya-kun; let's get you some fresh air."

All Midoriya could do was nod numbly while the octopus led him out of the now-silent classroom.

He felt so frustrated and embarrassed—the sensation crawled under his skin and tugged, tugged, tugged , itching him with rage. Izuku struggled to collect the shallow breaths in his chest. He vaguely registered Korosensei speaking with someone else in the hall—probably Karasuma-sensei or Professor Viç. He couldn't tell; they sounded muffled in his pounding ears. He kept his head low while his hands clutched his chest. Once more, Izuku was guided outside where he was ushered to sit on the wooden steps, Korosensei taking a seat beside him.

A cool tentacle was against his back, rubbing circles while a soft voice coaxed him, telling him to count to five and breathe in, then count to five and breathe out. The gentleness of it all called goosebumps to his skin, breaking his tension and allowing him to finally catch a deep, freeing breath that filled his crying lungs with refreshing air, but the knot in his stomach still remained tight.

Izuku was then reduced to silent tears while he continued the breathing exercise Korosensei kept coaxing him through. It took several minutes before he was finally calm and leaning his face into his balled up hands propped on his knees.

"How are you feeling, Midoriya-kun?" came Korosensei's voice, and he heard a gentle clatter of porcelain together. Lifting tired, red eyes to look, Izuku saw the yellow teacher offer tea to him which brought two thoughts to his mind at once: The first being 'where did he get this from?' while the second was 'why didn't I notice he left to actually set up tea for me?' Miraculously, neither questions were voiced—too tired and emotionally muted to even think about being subconsciously vocal. Robotically, the boy accepted the cup and let it rest on his lap between his hands.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Korosensei tempted.

Izuku hesitated but shook his head.

"That's alright. I won't force it out of you," a tentacle raised. "However, I would suggest not keeping it bottled up. The human body is like a bottle of soda when it comes to emotions. Shake it up too much without letting it out and the whole thing might pop, understand?"

Izuku bit his lip and turned away, nodding.

"Very good! Do you need more time?"

Izuku nodded again, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes that started to tear up again. Freaking— today was supposed to be a normal day (well, as normal as it could be). It wasn't supposed to end up with a panic attack in front of the whole class. And no, he didn't need to talk—that's what he had a therapist for. He didn't… He didn't need to tell anyone, it wasn't their business anyway, right? He could deal with this himself, he didn't need to be made fun of for being triggered by freaking sticky jello —

"You know," came Korosensei's gentle voice once again. "If you tell them why it bothers you, they might stop teasing you. These kids are very understanding when they need to be, you know."

Izuku hated that Korosensei was right— wait, did he say that outloud? The freckled boy's face lit a bright scarlet but he wasn't quite back to normal yet. His heart hadn't settled and his jaw was somewhat numb with tingling pins and needles.

He hummed and wiped the remaining tears from his face, setting the untouched teacup next to him.

"I-I don't, um, tell anyone th-this," Izuku finally muttered, gaining the attention of his oh-so-patient teacher. "I… I-I, um…" The words stuck in his throat.

"Take your time, Midoriya-kun. Would you like me to get All Might for you?"

Izuku shook his head, his hands gripping his pants at the knees tightly. "Wh-when, um, when I was… a-around…umm… little, I-I was attacked by a… a villain. H-he had this… slime quirk, I-I th… I think. Mmm-m-my- my therapist sss-says I have, uh, um, P-tuh… PTSD. Slimy… ss-slimy, jello-y things freak me out. A-A lot."

There. He said it. He wasn't… people—students and teachers together—made fun of his triggers when they found out. AKA, when Izuku let them know that this and that made him uncomfortable, that this and that made him want to throw up and cry, that this and that were his triggers . They thought it was ridiculous. They didn't understand. They were mean—treacherous, traitors, cruel. He didn't let anyone else know anything about him.

Students and teachers were just traitors. They take one look at someone they don't like and they use every bit of negative information off them and beat it into them. Teachers were worse off too. They were prejudice, they thought quirkless people weren't worth the tax money put into their education, they weren't worth even the dirt they stood on. Useless, worthless bodies of wasted space.

But Korosensei, he was different and it both unnerved and reassured the assassin-in-training. No one could be like Korosensei, planning to blow up the earth but also swear to take care of and nurture these End Class students?

A tentacle rested on his shoulder.

"Thank you for sharing, Midoriya-kun," Korosensei said. "I'm sure it was very difficult for you. You know—you've come a long way from how closed off you were at the beginning of the year."

Emerald eyes lifted to meet the octopus' dots, shocked by the sudden praise. "Wh- re...really?"

A nod. "Sure, you're still somewhat of a shy recluse, but you are opening up, braving the world, and I think that's something to be proud of. Don't you think?"

Izuku furrowed his brows, glancing away while giving a sniffle. Was he? How different was he from the beginning of the school year? He had no friends, he greatly disliked people let alone talking to people, not to mention there were people who terrified him… Now, he could easily consider a great half of class 3-E among his friends. Nagisa, Kayano, Sugino, Fuwa, even—even Karma…

Slowly, the boy began to nod. "Y… Yeah, you- you're right. I-I guess."

"Nurunurunuru," chuckled the octopus teacher. "Of course I am, young Midoriya! Well, how are you feeling now?"

How was he feeling? Izuku took a shaky breath in. He could feel his face again, so that was good. His heart had settled but it still felt fragile, not fully stable yet. "T-Tired," Izuku admitted with half a broken laugh. "But, um, I… I-I think I can, um, go back in th- nnn-n-now."

"Very well," they both stood up, Korosensei assisting the freckled boy.

Returning to class, Izuku immediately noticed no one actually did their work after he left, but they made quick on making it seem like they were as soon as the door opened. Class went on as normal, although considerably more quiet and tense.

It was during lunch that he was approached by a sheepish Okajima tailed by two furiously smiling Megu and Maehara.

"Go on, slob, just like we practiced," Maehara sneered, pushing the other boy's head down with Megu.

"Okay!! Okay!! Geez, quit pinching me already!!"

"Then spit it out ."

"Alright, alright! Ugh… um… S-sorry for always teasing you, Midoriya-kun…"

The two pushed his head down more. "And?"

"Ouch! Augh, fine … And I'm an idiot who doesn't deserve your forgiveness… ugh, do I have to-?"

"Do you want to live?"

"Fine!! UGH! And I'm a dumb, poopy head. Are you happy now?!"

"You forgot something."

Okajima whined before the two pulled his head up and the boy self-consciously babbled his finger up and down on his lips, adding a, "Doi!" sound after. "There! I did it! I'm never speaking to anyone ever again, are you happy?!"

Megu and Maehara nodded with sweet smiles. "Very! Thank you!"

Izuku blinked in befuddlement. "Wh… wh-what?"

Maehara waved him off. "Don't worry about it, Midoriya-kun."

"Well…" Megu gave the blond a side glance. "We overheard you talking with Korosensei…" Izuku knew it wasn't just 'overhearing,' more like 'we were totally eavesdropping.' "We didn't know- and, we're sorry."

As furious and mortified as Izuku knew he ought to be to know the whole class listened in to his talk with Korosensei, Izuku knew it was only a matter of time before he told them all anyway. That, and he knew nothing stopped class 3-E from getting the info they wanted.

Instead, Izuku gave a simple smile and shook his head.

"N-No, it's fine. I, um, I-I knew, um- well- it- mmm," he paused, pursing his lips. His friends smiled patiently at him. "I… was, um, going t-to tell you all, e- um, ev-eventually anyway. Um… Th-thanks."

Maehara pat his shoulder. "Hey, no problem, Midoriya-kun. Just lookin' out for a friend."

"Okajima's not the only one who needs to be more sensitive," Megu crossed her arms, nodding her nose to Terasaka's direction. "But we'll see to that later."

A hand tapped Izuku's shoulder then, grabbing his attention and seeing Nakamura standing with a sheepish expression, avoiding his eyes.

"I really should've learned my lesson with Nagisa," Nakamura smiled. "I… Sorry, Izukun. I didn't know, I- no, that's no excuse. I shouldn't tease with things like that."

"I-I mean, um, I don't mind being, um, t-teased, really? B-but, I- th-thanks, Nnnn-N-Nakamura-san." It wasn't… No, okay, it was a big deal, and that's why Izuku felt his head was about to pop off and float into the stratosphere—no one's… ever… done this before? It felt foreign, like if he were to accept their apologies, it would be confirming what they did was wrong (it was), and then scare them off from being his friends—but he knew that's not how it works. They did need to apologize, not for Izuku (in his mind), but just because it really was wrong. And he did accept their apologies and he forgave them a long time ago.

He appreciates his friends so much, he realized. Words couldn't describe the feeling of wonder and bright yellow glee that bubbled in his chest, making him feel warm and slightly overwhelmed.

Nakamura smiled at him in turn.

"Nnnow can you ss-stop calling me 'Izukun'?"

"Unlikely."

"Dang."