#My dearest chimera principal

[emile-hides]

No touchy

I am having way too many thoughts about Principal Nezu out loud to my discord and they, with their big brains, came out with a concept I just couldn’t leave alone. So here’s some Nezu angst. First angst I’ve ever posted really.

This story involves Age Regression, specifically Age Regresser Aizawa, and a slight description of a panic attack, so please read safely!

Nezu was a smart man. Mouse. Bear. Dog? Perhaps cat.

Whatever he was, he was smart. Above intelligent, and attentive. He was observant above all else, even when he didn’t particularly want to be. He took in mannerism, small signals a person may give without even knowing it themselves. The littlest hint of change he could detect.

It made him tired.

Sure, it was a more than useful skill, as a pro-hero and as a boss to a handful of emotionally scarred 30-something, but the downsides more than outweighed the blessings.

He couldn’t relax, no matter how much soothing tea he’d sip, cigarettes he’d smoke, there was always something to see, to hear, to witness and note as a possible threat. Weather it was the animal instincts he’d been born with or the trauma developed living as a lab rat to someone else’s experiments he could never tell. Both were simply exhausting.

He wished more than anything to simply take a breath that didn’t ache his stressed heart, and rest.

Instead, as Nezu made his way down the halls of his beloved school, he found one of his previously mentioned emotionally stunted employees laying by a large hall window atop his bright yellow sleeping bag, stretched out on his stomach.

Nezu approached and gave a calm tilt of the head, a smile as always as he greeted, “Aizawa, you really shouldn’t nap here. You’re a tripping hazard.”

His words were not met with the grumble of a freshly awoken 30-something like he’d expected, but instead a whine of complaint. Nezu was a little startled by the sound and gently knelt beside his employer, who looked up at him with a sleepy expression, roughly rubbing one of his eyes as he stared.

When the man fully awoke, he stared at Nezu with a look only he could distinguish, a wide eye, kitten like stare of pure innocence and curiosity. The stare of someone who hadn’t yet lost so many dear friends, who hadn’t fought crime for 30 years in dirty back alleys. The stare of someone yet to face their own demons. A child laid before Nezu, barely a year old, basking in the sun after a long day of teaching.

“Ah.” Nezu stood back up, though it barely made a difference in his height, “Shall I call Kayama then?” He spoke to Aizawa, as if the little one could understand him, before taking out his phone and making a call to his resident CG.

“Shouta dropped too??” Kayama exasperated upon hearing the news over the phone, “He and Hizashi must have some psychic link, I’m in the dorms dealing with him now.” Though he words sounded sharp and tired, she really did adore caring for the two, being a big sister really was her own way of relaxing.

“How long would it take you to get here?” Nezu now stood much farther down the hall then when the phone call started, Aizawa left on his make-shift playmat with a ring of keys to jingle to himself.

“Hizashi’s hard to travel with,” Kayama started, “I can send All Might, but he’s on the track right now, I don’t know how long it’d take him to get there.”

Nezu gave a glance down the hall as he let out a slight sigh, “Well, that’s better than nothing.” Little Aizawa suddenly threw the keys, pouncing after them like a cat before sliding, his feet unsecured on the fabric of the sleeping bag. The entire motion made Nezu flinch, his smile forcing just a little hard than normal, “Tell him to hurry for me.”

Kayama gave a simple “Yes sir” before hanging up, leaving Nezu to stare at his phone. He glanced back at Aizawa, now rolled on his back, tangled in his own capture weapon like a cat in yarn, staring wide eyed and curious at Nezu. 

Something twisted in the principal’s throat, but he swallowed it down, returned him smile, and reapproached the little one. “Kayama’s a little busy at the moment, but All Might should be on the way soon.” He explained calmly, untangling and removing the capture tape from Aizawa’s neck.

Aizawa continued to stare at him. He was certainly aware of Nezu’s existance, and recognized him as someone safe, but little Aizawa’s eyes had hardly ever perceived the principal.

That was on purpose, of course.

Nezu found being around regressers uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t quiet describe. He’d done his research on the topic of Age Regression, he fully understood it was a completely natural, and even encouraged part of the healing process for trauma victims and those under stress.

He understood the principle, and he’d seen the execution, All Might even gave him a book on everyone’s routines and needs while regressed and yet...

Looking down at the blissfully ignorant and innocent eyes of Shouta Aizawa, a man he knew to drink 5 black coffees first thing every morning, filled him with a feeling he’d rather not face.

Nezu’s paw found Aizawa’s head without thought, gently petting though his hair, his pink pads silking down the little’s jet black hair. 

Envy seeped into his stomach as he felt Aizawa lean into his touch, watched the little close his eyes as he relaxed, a soft purr like sound coming from his throat as though the man was in fact actual a cat. The pure bliss on his face.

“I...” Nezu’s voice shook as his paw reached the back of Aizawa’s head, “I wish... I could be like you...”

Nezu without a smile is a rare sight.

“I would give anything to have this mindset you are in...” His paw began to move back up to the top of Aizawa’s head, his stare blank at the little before him, “To be so vulnerable, so ignorant, to just... forget and be... small...”

Nezu’s body gave a shake, his paw giving unsteady rubs, mussing up Aizawa’s already tangled hair.

“I want to be pet...” He spoke so quietly he could barely hear himself, “and held and hugged.. What I’d give to have a moment of blissful innocence like you...”

Nezu took a breath, sucking in his emotions. He’d let it all slip. He could see his paw shaking. He quickly retreated, counting three steps back and he began to forcefully regain his composer.

Aizawa couldn’t fully recognize what’d happened. Why did Mr. Nezu get so sad all of a sudden? Why did he stop petting Aizawa? Had Aizawa done something? Did Mr. Nezu want something from Aizawa?

He wanted...

He wanted...

Panic spiked Nezu’s ears as a ripple of shock ran from his head though his tail, he froze dead in place, stiff and wide eyed. Aizawa’s hand rested just behind his ear, gently stoking back and forth along the fur.

“There, there kitty....” Aizawa spoke softly, his voice small, infantile.

And yet it sent nothing but fear shooting though Principal Nezu.

Nezu found himself unable to respond, he couldn’t even move. He was trapped, forced stiff by the hand on the back of his head giving gentle scratches just below his ear.

So, so gentle

Back and forth

‘That’s a good boy... Relax now... This won’t hurt a bit...’

“Shouta!” Toshinori’s voice echoed though the hall, followed by racing foot steps. Aizawa was quickly snatched from the floor, his affections finally releasing Nezu from his frozen shock, “I thought I told you, we don’t touch Mr. Nezu.” All Might’s scolding tone was soft and truly left no real lesson learned.

“Are you alright, sir?” Toshinori shifted to hold Aizawa more securely, looking down to Nezu with concern.

The principal smiled with ease, his paws now firmly gripped together behind his back, “Right as rain.” He answered, chipper, “Now you two best be going. I’m sure Yamada is waiting.”

“R... Right....” Toshinori nodded, grabbing Aizawa’s sleeping bag from it’s place on the floor. As he walked Aizawa looked over his carer’s shoulder back to Mr. Nezu, who still stood stock still in place, a plastic smile splitting his fuzzy face.

Principal Nezu was a smart man. Attentive. Observant.

Such brilliance is what made him the man he is today, allowed him to nurture young minds and help others in ways only one with such a mind could.

And yet in moments like these

‘there, there, little one, you’re alright’

He would give anything to be rid of it.

#Emile's Arts #Age Regressor Aizawa #Principal Nezu #This is called I can't breath and am thinking about Nezu again #I'm sorry if this is incoherent #This is my ninth nothing Nezu angst fic and they all have these same kind of themes #And this is the only one I'm posting because I'm doing it for the server #Were y'all expecting a better ending??? Ha ha nah. #One day Nezu will find someone who makes him feel safe #but that sure ain't today NOPE #He would do anything to enjoy the feeling of being pet again #but the motion is tainted #My dearest chimera principal #As some of you may remember I made an OC that is the scientist who did this to Nezu #And yes I do have a fic drafted somewhere where I basically stole all the italisied echos that haunt Nezu from #Because TRAUMA #First Agere fic and it's angst over not the regressor but just someone in the room at the time #Aizawa I'm sorry man you were simply a tool in my angst writing #Anyway my anxiety did NOT get better so I'm gonna play Pokemon and hopefully crash #If not then you may see me in the discord going off in Headcanon chat as I tend to while under stress #But tonight's brainrot is a lot of Nezu angst and AFO toxicity so probably not #Unless I can hard switch to Inasa by force we'll see when we get there #Emile's Writing #Agere

[readbookywooks]

When I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that I should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I had hitherto attended the schools of Geneva, but my father thought it necessary for the completion of my education that I should be made acquainted with other customs than those of my native country. My departure was therefore fixed at an early date, but before the day resolved upon could arrive, the first misfortune of my life occurred - an omen, as it were, of my future misery. Elizabeth had caught the scarlet fever; her illness was severe, and she was in the greatest danger. During her illness many arguments had been urged to persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She had at first yielded to our entreaties, but when she heard that the life of her favourite was menaced, she could no longer control her anxiety. She attended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over the malignity of the distemper - Elizabeth was saved, but the consequences of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver. On the third day my mother sickened; her fever was accompanied by the most alarming symptoms, and the looks of her medical attendants prognosticated the worst event. On her deathbed the fortitude and benignity of this best of women did not desert her. She joined the hands of Elizabeth and myself. "My children," she said, "my firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father. Elizabeth, my love, you must supply my place to my younger children. Alas! I regret that I am taken from you; and, happy and beloved as I have been, is it not hard to quit you all? But these are not thoughts befitting me; I will endeavour to resign myself cheerfully to death and will indulge a hope of meeting you in another world." She died calmly, and her countenance expressed affection even in death. I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed forever - that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should I describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the rest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not seized. My departure for Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events, was now again determined upon. I obtained from my father a respite of some weeks. It appeared to me sacrilege so soon to leave the repose, akin to death, of the house of mourning and to rush into the thick of life. I was new to sorrow, but it did not the less alarm me. I was unwilling to quit the sight of those that remained to me, and above all, I desired to see my sweet Elizabeth in some degree consoled. She indeed veiled her grief and strove to act the comforter to us all. She looked steadily on life and assumed its duties with courage and zeal. She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to call her uncle and cousins. Never was she so enchanting as at this time, when she recalled the sunshine of her smiles and spent them upon us. She forgot even her own regret in her endeavours to make us forget. The day of my departure at length arrived. Clerval spent the last evening with us. He had endeavoured to persuade his father to permit him to accompany me and to become my fellow student, but in vain. His father was a narrow-minded trader and saw idleness and ruin in the aspirations and ambition of his son. Henry deeply felt the misfortune of being debarred from a liberal education. He said little, but when he spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance a restrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable details of commerce. We sat late. We could not tear ourselves away from each other nor persuade ourselves to say the word "Farewell!" It was said, and we retired under the pretence of seeking repose, each fancying that the other was deceived; but when at morning's dawn I descended to the carriage which was to convey me away, they were all there - my father again to bless me, Clerval to press my hand once more, my Elizabeth to renew her entreaties that I would write often and to bestow the last feminine attentions on her playmate and friend. I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulged in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow mutual pleasure - I was now alone. In the university whither I was going I must form my own friends and be my own protector. My life had hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given me invincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers, Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were "old familiar faces," but I believed myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits and hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I had often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth cooped up in one place and had longed to enter the world and take my station among other human beings. Now my desires were complied with, and it would, indeed, have been folly to repent. I had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length the high white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted and was conducted to my solitary apartment to spend the evening as I pleased. The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction and paid a visit to some of the principal professors. Chance - or rather the evil influence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent sway over me from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father's door - led me first to M. Krempe, professor of natural philosophy. He was an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science. He asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different branches of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I replied carelessly, and partly in contempt, mentioned the names of my alchemists as the principal authors I had studied. The professor stared. "Have you," he said, "really spent your time in studying such nonsense?" I replied in the affirmative. "Every minute," continued M. Krempe with warmth, "every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systems and useless names. Good God! In what desert land have you lived, where no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies which you have so greedily imbibed are a thousand years old and as musty as they are ancient? I little expected, in this enlightened and scientific age, to find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dear sir, you must begin your studies entirely anew." So saying, he stepped aside and wrote down a list of several books treating of natural philosophy which he desired me to procure, and dismissed me after mentioning that in the beginning of the following week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a fellow professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that he omitted. I returned home not disappointed, for I have said that I had long considered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but I returned not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in any shape. M. Krempe was a little squat man with a gruff voice and a repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in favour of his pursuits. In rather a too philosophical and connected a strain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had come to concerning them in my early years. As a child I had not been content with the results promised by the modern professors of natural science. With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the discoveries of recent inquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchemists. Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy. It was very different when the masters of the science sought immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand; but now the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limit itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest in science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth. Such were my reflections during the first two or three days of my residence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becoming acquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my new abode. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the information which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And although I could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliver sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M. Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town. Partly from curiosity and partly from idleness, I went into the lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey hairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were nearly black. His person was short but remarkably erect and his voice the sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a recapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvements made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names of the most distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of the present state of the science and explained many of its elementary terms. After having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never forget: "The ancient teachers of this science," said he, "promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and that the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows." Such were the professor's words - rather let me say such the words of the fate - enounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein - more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation. I closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state of insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I had no power to produce it. By degrees, after the morning's dawn, sleep came. I awoke, and my yesternight's thoughts were as a dream. There only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies and to devote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a natural talent. On the same day I paid M. Waldman a visit. His manners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public, for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which in his own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness. I gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I had given to his fellow professor. He heard with attention the little narration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of Cornelius Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had exhibited. He said that "These were men to whose indefatigable zeal modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names and arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in a great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind." I listened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumption or affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed my prejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measured terms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to his instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would have made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended labours. I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to procure. "I am happy," said M. Waldman, "to have gained a disciple; and if your application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success. Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have not neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very sorry chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledge alone. If your wish is to become really a man of science and not merely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics." He then took me into his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his various machines, instructing me as to what I ought to procure and promising me the use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in the science not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list of books which I had requested, and I took my leave. Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny.

#Frankenstein