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It is a perfectly ordinary day when it happens, except that it is Izuku Midorya's first day at UA High School.
He walks into his classroom, and is immediately noticed by Katsuki Bakugou. This is normal.
Bakugou stomps over and pushes Izuku roughly, palms crackling. This is also normal.
What is not normal is this: Izuku steps back, trips and falls. His head slams into the corner of a desk, and then he hits the ground. He does not move.
Everyone in the class, including Bakugou, freezes at the awful cracking noise of a skull against the floor. Ochako Uraraka immediately rushes to the boy she’s only ever met once, goes to gently shake him but a cool hand grasping around her wrist stops her.
“Don’t move him,” Shouto Todoroki says quietly. “He might have a neck injury. Find a teacher.”
Ochako nods rapidly, and rushes out of the class. She stops just in time to not slam into a man holding a yellow sleeping bag and looking exhausted. He doesn’t look like much but – “Are you a teacher?” She demands. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “A boy, I don’t know his name, but he got pushed and he fell and now he won’t wake up!”
The man is obviously a hero with the way he snaps straight, any tiredness gone in an instant. He doesn’t respond to her, just pushes past Ochako and into the class.
There’s a rough circle around the boy on the floor, and one of the kids has clearly got some knowledge of first aid, because the chairs and desks have been shoved out of the way.
Shouta Aizawa drops to his knees beside the kid’s head, avoiding the concerning pool of blood. The teenager, child really, is so still he could be dead. He reaches out with a hand that doesn’t shake only because of years of experience in controlling his fear, and hovers his fingers above the boy’s mouth. It takes a moment, but he feels the slightest, smallest, puff of air against his skin, and his shoulders slump.
The child is not dead. It’s worrying that he’s still unconscious, but. He is not dead.
It is the slumping of Shouta’s shoulders that does it. In his relief, his fingers slip and there is the smallest, briefest press of the boy’s lips against his bare skin.
It’s barely a touch, but it is enough.
Izuku Midoriya’s quirk activates for the first time in fourteen years.
Shouta Aizawa collapses, barely managing to avoid landing on the child in front of him. There is screaming in his head that is not him.
A child is sobbing, begging for anyone to hear him. It is loud and overwhelming.
Shouta passes out.
The other children in the class are frozen in shocked silence. Then Mina Ashido shrieks in fear because there is now a collapsed child and unconscious teacher and class hasn’t even started yet.
But UA is a building full of heroes, and a child wailing that loudly immediately pulls Kan Sekijiro out of the 1B class and across the hall. He takes in the scene, and immediately clears all the students out. Ochako gives him a garbled, sobbing explanation, and he calls in Recovery Girl and Present Mic immediately. He instructs that neither of them make contact with the child’s bare skin.
It is only an hour, and Izuku Midoriya’s mother has been contacted and informed that her son, her only child, is unconscious and will not wake. She rushes out of work and to UA immediately.
At the same time she is called, Shouta wakes up, and the child has stopped screaming. He is crying instead, and is so scared. He puts two and two together and rushes out of his bed in the infirmary. He ignores the protests of his husband, and storms across the hallway into the child’s room. He still does not know his name.
Shouta catches sight of the child, still barely breathing, limp and non-responsive.
He activates Erasure.
Izuku wakes up, and he is screaming again.
Izuku Midoriya has a quirk with a specific requirement for activation. He calls it a fairy tale activation to try and soothe his sobbing mother when Recovery Girl explains that it required Izuku to be unconscious and have his lips press against someone else’s bare skin to manifest. Now that his quirk has manifested, Izuku will only have to kiss someone’s bare skin. The unconsciousness will not be necessary. He says that’s a relief, and gets a watery laugh from his mother.
Izuku’s quirk is called Mind Transfer. He secretly decides that he’ll call it Mind Meld like in those old pre-quirk space shows.
It requires lip to skin contact, and then Izuku can transfer his mind to another person. He only has to kiss someone once and he will always be able to transfer his consciousness into someone else’s body. It is a fascinating, freak mutation from his mother’s weak telekinesis and his father’s fire breathing. Izuku thinks it’s because his father’s quirk ‘sparks’ when he pops his lips, and his maternal grandmother had a weak touch telepathy quirk.
Wherever it came from, he is completely embarrassed to have unwittingly activated it on his homeroom teacher.
Shouta just snorts and tells the kid it’s fine.
Izuku’s mother gives him a series of somewhat humiliating forehead kisses, and then has to rush back to work, nervous but reassured that her son is alright.
Only once the spitfire of a mother is gone does Shouta grill Izuku on how exactly he has two quirks that are so fundamentally different.
Izuku panics and his mind slips out of his body and into Shouta’s. His body slumps sideways and Shouta only just manages to catch the kid so he doesn’t get another concussion as he hears stuttered apologies in his head.
And then Izuku tells Shouta everything about All Might and One For All - except for that awful, cold afternoon on the roof, of course because Izuku tries to never remember that - because in the safety of his teacher’s mind, he feels protected in a way he hasn’t felt in his own body since he was four.
Apparently Mind Transfer, while mostly keeping the two consciousnesses separate, does allow for some weak emotional transfer, because Shouta can feel Izuku’s fear and hopelessness and hope that maybe this teacher will be different, and Izuku can sense the rising, righteous rage on his behalf from the pro hero.
Izuku can also sense how flustered and flattered Mr Shouta is - and really, calling the man anything but his first name in his own head seems rude, which gets a mental huff of laughter sent his way - that Izuku, one, knows that Mr Shouta is the pro hero Eraserhead, and two, that Izuku so quickly and easily trusts him.
But Izuku is literally in the man’s head. It’s warm, and dark, but the darkness is like that of a cosy living room in winter with a roaring fire and soft blankets. So Izuku hides there, and basks in the safety of his teacher’s mind until he feels like he can try and go back to his own body.
It takes a few tries, but Mr Shouta is patient with Izuku in a way that is so generous and unfamiliar he could cry, and he eventually manages to open his own green eyes again.
Izuku looks at his teacher, whose dark eyes promise safety and refuge. “Is there still class today?”
Mr Aizawa stares at Izuku, expression incredulous. “You want to go to class. After the morning you just had.”
Izuku nods as energetically as he can. Gods, his body is exhausted but his mind is wide awake and it’s frustrating but Izuku will power through!
Mr Aizawa blinks slowly at Izuku as if he’s a particularly complicated knot he’s trying to undo. “The rest of the class is participating in the orientation assembly right now.”
Izuku pouts because that means he’s missed his opportunity to see the elusive principal of UA for the first time.
“Normally I hold a quirk assessment test during this time and then send everyone home early,” Mr Aizawa muses, “but I’ll be doing it this afternoon instead.” He gives Izuku an appraising look. “Will you be up to that?”
Ah. That is a problem, because while Izuku could probably have managed sitting in a classroom, physical activity is probably a bit beyond him right now, let alone trying to use One For All.
Then he has an idea. He returns Mr Aizawa’s appraising look with one of his own. “I mean physically I probably can’t handle it after Recovery Girl’s healing, because wow does my body feel super weird right now but...” Izuku trails off hopefully and his teacher sighs.
“Sure. You can hitch a ride.”
“Great!” Izuku cheers happily. “Can I sleep until then though?”
“Please do,” his teacher tells him dryly. “Because I will also be taking a nap.”
And then the man just. Manifests an obnoxiously yellow sleeping bag - okay so maybe Izuku is a hypocrite with his backpack and all, but that’s All Might, whereas this is just ugly - and then proceeds to pass out on the floor.
There’s literally another bed right there.
But he does have the right idea, Izuku thinks, and falls asleep himself.
Shouta strides into his class homeroom after lunch and is greeted by 18 sets of anxious eyes and 1 set of furious red ones. The kids that did not witness the accident earlier have clearly been filled in by their classmates.
“Sir,” the girl he recognises as Ochako Uraraka says before he can get a word out, “is the boy alright?”
Shouta really can’t blame her. “Izuku Midoriya is fine,” he tells the class. He doesn’t even need to activate his quirk to get them quiet which is a pleasant surprise but probably because of the horror show of the morning.
“Sorry,” Midoriya murmurs from the corner of Shouta’s head where he’s tucked himself.
“Not your fault,” he reminds the kid and turns his attention back to his class.
He hears the kid laughing at the shocked expressions his classmates are wearing as he brusquely introduces himself and then informs them of the apprehension test. He gives them their uniforms and skulks out of the room, leaving chaos in his wake.
“It’s only because you still technically have a head injury that you’re not having to do it,” Shouta tells the kid grumpily. He’s not meant to be amusing.
“Their faces,” Midoriya wheezes, “were so funny!”
Shouta rolls his eyes and shoves the kids muffled laughs literally to the back of his mind.
He runs the fresh lot of brats through the quirk apprehension tests, making note of the ones that are underutilising their quirks and also which ones are overly reliant. To his surprise, Midoriya chimes in with astute observations and suggestions for ways his classmates could improve. Huh, Shouta thinks. Smart kid.
Except he apparently thinks it a little too loudly - wow is it weird having someone in his head - and gets a vague impression of Midoriya’s consciousness curling up into a ball of flustered embarrassment at the compliment. Shouta snorts at the mental image. “I was going to make you do this test when you’re recovered,” he tells the ball of embarrassment, “but your analysis skills alone have demonstrated your potential for this course so that won’t be necessary.”
This of course, embarrasses the kid even further, which may or may not have been Shouta’s intention. Either way, it’s hilarious and also his way of getting back at the brat for laughing at him earlier.
They get to the last test, the baseball throw, and Midoriya manages to get over himself to stir in intrigue. Shouta tosses the ball to Bakugou and tells him to throw it as far as he can with his quirk.
The aggressive teenager does so with a bellowed cry of “Die!” Which is. Concerning. But an attitude is something that he can work on over the next three years except - Midoriya is cringing in Shouta’s mind and leaking out stifling fear and he realises he’s missed something big.
Because the child in his head is terrified of his classmate.
Shouta’s eyes narrow in contemplation, but shoves his suspicions aside to tackle after the tests are finished. Midoriya continues to hide, but when Uraraka sends the ball into space - or rather, the atmosphere where it presumably burned up - he comes back out enough to let out a whispered “wow.” Shouta wholeheartedly agrees. Uraraka has one hell of a quirk.
When the quirk assessment is done, he still gets to send the kids home early - the rest of the students will be in class for just over an hour. It’s his little way of rewarding the kids for surviving the first day, not that Shouta will ever admit that to anyone.
Except for the brat in his head, apparently, who’s giggling because he overheard Shouta’s stray thoughts.
And thus Midoriya becomes “Problem Child” which sets the kid off giggling again, because in his head he can’t mask the fondness in his tone.
“Thanks, Mr Shouta,” the Problem Child says. “I can go back to my body now.”
“One moment,” Shouta says, ignoring the ridiculousness of ‘Mr Shouta’, “I need to talk to you about something. Would you prefer in person or.. in head?”
Midoriya laughs softly at his wording. “In person, please. Body language and all that. It’s tiring having to listen so hard.”
“Fair enough. I have to stop by my office on the way, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Shouta thinks at the kid, who slips out of his mind like a breeze through a window, and then he is alone in his head again.
Izuku is sitting cross legged on the infirmary bed when Mr Aizawa arrives. He’s nervous, anxious about the upcoming talk he knows his teacher wants to have. He knows what this conversation is going to be about because he heard his teacher’s thoughts about it whispering through his mind. He was going to have to have a steep learning curve to be able curb that, to make sure he could maintain privacy between himself and his.. host? body companion? whatever he was going to call the other person necessary for his quirk to work.
When Kacchan had thrown the softball, Izuku had flinched hard, hard enough he knew Mr Aizawa had noticed even though he didn’t have a physical body to flinch. It was instinctive, a conditioned response at this point. Look down, show fear, and pray Kacchan is in a good mood.
Kacchan hadn’t been in a good mood that morning, not that Izuku remembered how exactly he’d been knocked unconscious; he just knew that Kacchan was involved, remembered the yelled ‘Deku’ that followed his entrance into the class. It’s all... fuzzy after that.
And apparently, not even giving Izuku a major concussion was enough to make the other boy stop. Throughout the assessment test, whenever someone had referenced the incident from the morning, Mr Aizawa and therefore Izuku had heard every ‘tch’ and ‘stupid useless nerd’ and ‘quirkless freak’ that Kacchan uttered.
Yeah, Mr Aizawa was definitely going to want to talk about Kacchan.
His teacher - who Izuku really shouldn’t know this well so soon but he literally spent the afternoon in his head - sits perched on a stool beside the bed Izuku, or rather, that his body has been in since the morning.
Okay that’s a weird concept. Izuku is going to tuck that away to scream about later, in the privacy of his own room. And head. Can’t forget that.
“You had a severe concussion,” Mr Aizawa says immediately upon sitting. “How much do you remember of what happened this morning?”
Izuku blinks; that wasn’t what he was expecting. “Not much, really. I went to school, got lost, found the class and then went in. I... don’t remember much more than that.”
Mr Aizawa hums. “That’s to be expected with a concussion like the one you had; memory loss is a common side effect. You might get it back or not, or only parts.”
“I’m not sure if I want to remember,” Izuku admits.
Mr Aizawa nods, tucks his chin into his capture weapon. “I have the security recording here, but you don’t have to watch it. I reviewed it before I came and it’s admittedly,” he breathes in, a strange hesitation, “unsettling to see.”
“Can - can I think about it?” Izuku asks quietly. “I’m - not sure if - if I’m ready to see that.”
“That’s fine,” Mr Aizawa tells him. “It’s sensible to not rush into it. Let me know if you want to see it - it doesn’t matter if it’s tomorrow or ten years from now, just ask.”
That’s - that’s so nice of Mr Aizawa to say that Izuku bursts into tears. Through blurry vision he sees his teacher half-stand in concern, hands twitching as if to reach for something, and he can’t help but giggle at the distress written into every line of his teacher’s body. “It’s fine,” he sobs out, “I’m just a very emotional person and I cry a lot and you’re just so nice.”
His teacher somehow looks even more horrified. “You think I’m nice?”
“It’s only been one day and you’ve been the best teacher I’ve ever had,” Izuku tells him sincerely. “You’re super cool, Mr Aizawa!”
“Oh god,” Mr Aizawa breathes, and he slumps back onto the stool. “Why are your standards so low?”
Izuku manages to get his tears under control enough that they’re a steady trickle rather than a winter-thaw stream. “I was quirkless until I was fourteen, Mr Aizawa.”
“..Right,” his teacher says. “That somehow does not make me feel better.”
“Sorry,” Izuku whispers, and hears his teacher sigh.
“Can you look at me for a moment, Midoriya?” Mr Aizawa says, and well, seeing as he’s been in the man’s head Izuku thinks he can manage that. It takes him a moment, but he eventually looks up, and Mr Aizawa is right there. “You have nothing to apologise for,” he says very seriously.
Izuku’s not sure he can believe that.
“That’s alright,” Mr Aizawa says, “but I hope in the future you’ll be able to.”
And that sets Izuku off in tears again, but Mr Aizawa doesn’t seem so stressed this time, so he figures his teacher must’ve believed him about his... more emotional tendencies. Something is suddenly shoved under his nose, and he reflexively grabs it to see a wad of tissues. It’s a simple kindness, but Izuku can’t help the way he clutches them to his chest and cries even harder.
He hears Mr Aizawa sigh and mutter quietly, “I don’t know what I expected,” which is actually pretty funny and distracts Izuku enough that he can calm himself down again.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m okay now.” He hopes that Mr Aizawa will look past the occasional sniffle and still-flowing tears.
“...Sure.” Mr Aizawa says. “I think you already know what I want to talk about next.”
Izuku dips his head. “Kacchan.” It’s barely a whisper but it’s all his throat will let escape.
“I assume that’s Katsuki Bakugou.”
Izuku nods. It’s a tiny thing, a bare hint of movement, but he knows Mr Aizawa will see it.
“Would you like to talk, or is it easier if I ask questions?”
Izuku thinks for a moment. “Questions, please.”
“Alright. I pulled both of your files when I was in my office and I saw you both come from Aldera Junior High. Is that correct?”
At Izuku’s confirmation, Mr Aizawa continues with, “And given that the teacher who wrote their final recommendation for both of you was the same, you were also in the same class.”
Izuku nods again, but he pales when he realises Mr Aizawa must have read the final recommendation letter that Mrs Suzuki insisted be put in his file.
Izuku has read that letter. He knows what it says, the kind of student, of person, it paints him as. He also knows that All Might had done something to get him into UA with that kind of mark on his record.
“Midoriya,” a firm voice says. “You need to breathe.”
Oh. Izuku hadn’t realised he’d stopped but his lungs are burning and he reflexively gasps in air. Mr Aizawa counts out a breathing pattern, which is eventually enough to help soothe him.
“I’m so sorry,” he whimpers when he finally has enough air to do so. “I swear I didn’t do anything she says I did!”
“Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa says, and his tone is.. odd. Izuku chances a glance at him, but he can’t read his teacher well yet, but his mouth looks fractionally tighter than earlier, and there’s a faint furrow between his brows. He thinks that that means the man is thinking hard about something and isn’t liking his conclusions.
“I haven’t actually read the letter,” Mr Aizawa says quietly. “I tend to leave that for after the first few days when I’ve had the chance to form my own impressions.”
Izuku freezes. If - if Mr Aizawa hasn’t read the letter then he just panicked and made a fool of himself for nothing.
“You’re fine, Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa interrupts. “After the day you’ve had, a panic attack is something reasonable to experience.” He frowns then. “Actually,” he says thoughtfully, “I was so determined to get answers that I put aside your well-being. This conversation can - will wait.”
Wait - what?
“I apologise, Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa continues, as if he hasn’t just shaken Izuku’s world by caring. “We can pick this up tomorrow; before school would be preferable but if that doesn’t work for you we can arrange a different time.”
Izuku is still stuck in a state of buffering. He feels like the little dots going around and around in circles on HeroTube when a particularly exciting new All Might video is being swamped by viewers and the servers crash. Wait - he’s getting distracted.
Mr Aizawa just said that - that he made a mistake. That he should have put Izuku’s wellbeing first and then! Then he said he’s happy to work around Izuku.
He stares blankly at Mr Aizawa for another long moment. Mr Aizawa meets his gaze without any indication of impatience. He just ... waits. For Izuku.
It’s a weird feeling.
“I - tomorrow morning is fine,” Izuku manages to say at last. “W-what time should I come in?”
“Around 7 would be best, as I suspect it will be a lengthy conversation,” Mr Aizawa said. “Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, that time is fine,” Izuku says softly. “I - thank you, Mr Aizawa. No one - no one has ever helped me before.”
“That’s - Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa says and he sounds very serious, “What I am doing is what any teacher should do. I’m sorry that it’s taken this long for someone to help you.”
Izuku returns home, hugs his mother and crawls into bed. He thinks for hours and hours before he sleeps. He screams in his dreams and no one hears him.
Izuku wakes exhausted and haunted by dreams he cannot remember. He sits down for breakfast with his mother and cries. He will not let her touch him until all of her skin except for her face is covered, and even then makes sure to keep his face turned away from hers.
Inko Midoriya holds her son close and tight to her chest. For the first time in years, she forces down her own roiling emotions and focuses on her son. She does not cry. For now, she will be strong for Izuku, with an iron spine and grim, determined face.
Izuku runs out of tears, and then, he gives his mother a genuine smile, not one that he’s pasted on like he normally does. He is tired and still a little upset, but - but he knows he can trust Mr Aizawa.
He goes to UA for the third time in his life, and prays that the third time really will be different.
Shouta wakes at 6am and spits his husband’s hair out of his mouth and shoves off the arm splayed across his chest. Hizashi Yamada, love of his life and pro hero Present Mic, doesn’t so much as twitch. It is, after all, a common occurrence.
Their morning passes as it usually does, with Hizashi crawling out of bed twenty minutes after his husband and straight towards the coffee pot Shouta has made for him. The dark haired man takes only one cup for himself, and the rest is a gift, a reminder to Hizashi of his love.
Hizashi doesn’t ever need any sugar to make his morning coffee sweet.
They go to school and part at the gates with a gentle kiss, a reminder to be patient with the students and a gentle caress of Shouta’s hair.
And Shouta goes to his meeting with Izuku Midoriya, knowing that his faith in humanity will be shaken by what he will hear.
But it will also strengthen, because through it all Izuku Midoriya has survived. Shouta will make sure he can thrive.
Izuku is nervous when he finally manages to find Mr Aizawa’s office - it’s tucked out of the way, in a hallway full of disused ones! But he’d planned ahead for getting lost and so it was just turning 7am on the dot when he knocked on the door.
“Huh,” a voice says behind him. “Good job actually finding it.” Izuku pales and turns around, posture stiff as a board, to see Mr Aizawa standing behind him. The man is clutching a travel mug in one hand with all the fervour of a man in a desert finding an oasis and he looks. So dead emotionally that Izuku’s already high opinion of the man ratchets up even more; it’s an impressive expression to convey the sheer amount of ‘it’s too fucking early’ energy Mr Aizawa is currently exuding.
More importantly, he’s a genius and Izuku is absolutely going to steal his ideas. Because in the hand not holding a coffee, there is an almost ridiculously large thermos that Izuku will bet good money on also being filled with coffee.
He takes all this in in an instant and then steps aside so Mr Aizawa can unlock the door and usher them both in. It’s a nice enough office, Izuku thinks, and different enough from other teacher’s offices he’s been in that he doesn’t feel immediately panicked. He also notices that Mr Aizawa leaves the door open. So Izuku won’t feel trapped, he realises.
Mr Aizawa really is going to kill Izuku with small gestures of kindness, isn’t he.
Shoving aside that thought, Izuku sits in the chair Mr Aizawa directs him to as the man himself leans back against his desk. He then shamelessly sends his teacher his best puppy dog eyes, flicking deliberately between the man and thermos.
Yeah, Izuku spotted the spare mugs and he’s not above pulling out the big guns. He chucks in a few convincing shivers for good measure, which are less put on and more just not being suppressed, because the morning is cold.
Mr Aizawa crumples like a can under the wheels of a truck, and pours Izuku a mug that he shoves into his hands.
“Thank you,” Izuku gushes out before he sips at the warm drink and nearly dies of pleasure. Oh, Mr Aizawa drinks the good stuff. “Oh my god, what is this blend?” There’s no small amount of awe in his voice.
Mr Aizawa looks pained. “It’s.. one of Midnight’s blends.”
Izuku brightens. “The Up All Night Co.!” He enthuses. “Mum‘s never let me in the store though...”
“That’s the one. She thinks it’s funny to be in the industry considering her quirk.”
“Somnambulist! Such a cool and versatile quirk! And the way she uses it is so clever! I’d really like to track her progress from the start of her career but Mum won’t let me watch those videos.. But after her costume change I’ve been able to see how she’s continued refining her technique as her career progresses! So many pros just stagnate once they have their licence but Midnight has continued to improve! It’s super inspiring!”
Mr Aizawa blinks at Izuku’s energetic words and then very visibly makes the conscious decision to move past Izuku’s word-vomit; which is a fair call, as it still very early. “The blend is called X-Rated and that is the tamest one, which is presumably why your mother has banned you.”
“Probably,” Izuku agrees. “I’m going to make her buy this for me now though.”
Mr Aizawa snorts. “Should I be expecting a strongly-worded letter asking why I’m corrupting you?”
Izuku smiles angelically. “Nah, she likes you too much. Because of how you handled yesterday. Oh! She also told me to apologise in advance because I can be a lot sometimes and that will probably be worse when I can’t have a - brain to mouth filter.”
Mr Aizawa stares Izuku dead in the eye as he lifts his cup and drains it in one go. “I can see that.”
Izuku beams at him. He had time to think and settle his thoughts, go over everything that happened yesterday, which was a lot. He’s grateful to Mr Aizawa for delaying this conversation and even more grateful for the coffee.
“Speaking of yesterday,” Mr Aizawa says as he pours himself a second cup of liquid gold, “How are you feeling?”
Huh?
Once again Mr Aizawa has surprised Izuku. He was expecting to just dive straight into his past with Kacchan but - okay. Izuku can do this. “I’m fine!” he says, with his most genuine looking smile.
“Try again.”
Damn. It’s Izuku’s turn to wilt. “I.. don’t know how to feel. I didn’t have a quirk for fourteen years and now I have two? It’s.. more than my wildest dreams. And-“ he cuts himself off. Izuku - he knows how he feels about his quirks but to admit it...
“And what?”
“It’s - I feel so awful for thinking it because this is literally everything I’ve wanted since I was four but.” Izuku has to stop and remind himself to breathe for a moment, and Mr Aizawa just waits, eyes not pressing just endlessly patient. “They’re both so scary,” Izuku whispers. “One For All snapped my limbs like twigs - and - and Mind Meld it - I’m so scared I’m going to lose myself again. I didn’t even mean to, that time yesterday, it was like I was falling and there was nothing to grab!”
“Hm,” Mr Aizawa says, and he tips his head sideways in consideration. “That’s all very understandable given what’s happened to you recently. And it’s all things that we can work on, so that you can feel safe and comfortable with your quirks.”
“Oh,” Izuku says, because he’s not really sure how to respond to that.
Mr Aizawa gives Izuku a long, considering look and something he sees makes his mouth twitch down the smallest amount. “It’ll be okay, Midoriya.”
Izuku nods absently, but his teacher’s words echo in his mind - not literally this time, thankfully.
It’s all things that we can work on, so that you feel comfortable.
That’s something that Izuku is going to tuck away and cry about later.
Mr Aizawa pours himself a third cup of coffee - huge mood - and settles back again, “So,” he says dryly. “Bakugou.”
Izuku shrinks a little. “Haha, yeah..” He lets out a sigh. “We used to be friends, when we were kids...”
Mr Aizawa stays quiet, gives Izuku the space he needs right now. “Then he got his quirk and mine just. Never manifested. I even have a double toe joint,” he admits. The extra bone was the most common way to ‘diagnose’ quirklessness, but as Izuku had demonstrated, it wasn’t a foolproof method. “Kacchan didn’t like me after that. He thinks I’m weaker, and because I’m still trying to be a hero that he’s weak by extension.”
Mr Aizawa frowns. “That’s idiotic,” he remarks. “And illogical.”
“I know,” Izuku huffs. “But he’s so set in his ways that any time I’ve tried to point that out, it.. doesn’t end well.”
There’s a long moment of silence then, as Mr Aizawa slurps his coffee and looks thoughtful. “He’s your bully.” It’s not a question.
Izuku takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he says. “He is.”
It’s the first time Izuku has told someone and known that he’d be believed, listened to. It gives him a strange, fuzzy feeling, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. Mr Aizawa waits patiently as Izuku wrestles his emotions into something he can understand. “He’s hurt me a lot,” Izuku manages to say eventually.
Thankfully, Mr Aizawa takes over with questions. “Verbally?”
“Yes.”
“Physically?”
“Yes,” Izuku says, clenching his fingers around the hem of his shirt.
“I have to ask; has he ever used his quirk on you?” Izuku can hear that Mr Aizawa already knows the answer. “Midoriya,” he prompts when he doesn’t immediately speak.
“Yes,” Izuku whispers. “I - he scarred me.”
Mr Aizawa looks tired. “Okay,” he says very gently. “Would you be comfortable showing me?”
Izuku hesitates. “Yes,” he decides after a moment. He shrugs off his blazer, removes his tie and unbuttons his shirt enough that he can slide it half-off his right shoulder. Where there should be smooth skin beside his neck, there is instead warped, red scars in a distinct handprint. Kacchan’s quirk is focused on his hands, so his body had mutated so he has larger than average hands. It shows in the size of the scar, stretching from Izuku’s collarbone and wrapping over his shoulder. There is the clear shape of a thumb pressing against the hollow of his throat.
Mr Aizawa hisses at the sight, and looks like he’s aged ten years in a moment. “Is that the only scar?”
“No,” Izuku says. “It’s just the easiest to show you. The others are on my arms and back.”
“Would you be comfortable having your scars documented at some point?” Mr Aizawa asks.
“I don’t know,” Izuku responds. “Can - can I think about it?”
“Of course,” Mr Aizawa says seriously. “And it’s fine if you decide against it.”
Izuku nods, and covers up his scar with his uniform again. It had been weird showing his teacher - showing anyone, but. Izuku has been in Mr Aizawa’s head. This is, by far, less intimate, and not quite uncomfortable, just strange.
Mr Aizawa takes a deep drink from his mug, which reminds Izuku to do the same. He is definitely going to make his mum buy some of this coffee, he thinks as he takes in the smooth caramel notes. Besides, it’s not like she wouldn’t enjoy it herself; being a single mother meant caffeine was pretty much her best friend.
“Are you up to telling me more about Bakugou?” Mr Aizawa asks eventually. His face is smooth, clear of any obvious emotions, but Izuku can see by his eyes how troubled the man is.
“Yessir,” Izuku says, and then he does.
It’s a good thing Mr Aizawa arranged their meeting so early, because even Izuku’s brief recap of his and Kacchan’s relationship takes them nearly to homeroom. At five minutes to class, his teacher sends him off, with a warning that he needed to get some more information before anything can be done about Bakugou’s presence in 1-A.
Mr Aizawa is very careful to reassure Izuku that he does believe everything he’s been told, it’s just protocol now, and it’ll take a few days and then steps can be taken. His immediate attack on Izuku upon entering the class yesterday will not be in Kacchan’s favour.
Izuku only has to make it a few more days with Kacchan’s presence. He can do that.
Oh god, he can’t do that, Izuku thinks, his heartbeat erratic as he tries to avoid Kacchan in the office building the battle trial is taking place in.
He doesn’t succeed for very long. There’s a deafening noise, a bright light and Izuku slips.
“Problem child?”
Ah, Izuku’s with Mr Shouta again. “Sorry,” he thinks sheepishly at his teacher. “I got scared and sort of.. instinctively ducked for cover.”
“Which is why I’ve got company during what’s meant to be my free period,” Mr Shouta thinks and Izuku can tell he’s a little bemused but not bothered. “May I ask what scared you?”
“Kacchan,” Izuku says with a shudder. “Someone approved his grenade gauntlets and he used them on me during the battle trial.”
Being in Mr Shouta’s head gives Izuku a front row seat to the sheer bewilderment his teacher is experiencing.
Ah, Izuku realises. Kacchan wasn’t supposed to have those gauntlets until second year earliest and the battle trials were not the planned Foundational Heroics lesson his class should’ve had. He somewhat hysterically wonders if he’ll be considered an accessory to murder if Mr Shouta kills someone while Izuku’s along for the ride.
“Relax,” Mr Shouta tells Izuku. “It’ll be grievous bodily harm at worst.”
“That is not comforting!” Izuku protests, even though he knows his amusement is being projected for his teacher to sense. He pouts mentally, and goes to slide back into his body and freezes; the door is shut.
“Uh,” Izuku says, “I think my body is unconscious. So... I’m kind of stuck here.”
Mr Shouta’s gentle amusement is suddenly overwhelmed by concern. “You were knocked out during a training exercise?” he hisses and Izuku sends a sense of agreement. “It’s your second day.”
Izuku suddenly gets the feeling that All Might is in for one hell of a conversation with Mr Shouta.
“Don’t forget Bakugou,” Mr Shouta grumbles. “He was sent a letter explaining the gauntlets would be held off on until his second year. Even if they were with his costume he should’ve known not to wear them. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Izuku pauses and then says, “Can I try something instead?”
“Sure.”
Izuku thinks very hard on the events that led up to him slipping back to Mr Shouta, and hopes that the memories will make it across their shared connection. It seems to work, although his teacher winces mentally.
“It’s fine,” Mr Shouta says in answer to Izuku’s worry, “How you were feeling during the exercise also came through with the events.”
Ah, that’ll be something to be careful of then.
“Yes,” Mr Shouta says dryly. “I’d prefer not to experience teenage hormones again. Once was enough.”
Izuku squeaks and curls up into a tiny mental ball again, much to his teacher’s amusement. He can’t help that Uraraka is so cute and nice!
“Please stop,” Mr Shouta says, a little desperately. “There are some things I just don’t want to know.”
That’s fair, Izuku thinks, especially because he also doesn’t want Mr Shouta to know these things. He gets a vague sense of amusement and well - if he was in his own body right now he’d be bright red.
Mr Shouta takes pity on him and changes the subject. “We’ll go to the infirmary,” he says, “so we can see how badly you’ve been hurt. We’ll also have to look into developing some sort of system to determine whether or not you are in your body or not when unconscious; I’ll speak to Majima to see if there’s any support items that can be repurposed or developed.”
Well, if Mr Shouta didn’t want to hear about support items, he really shouldn’t have brought up Power Loader, Izuku thinks as he launches into a somewhat stress-fuelled ramble. His homeroom teacher listens absently as he walks to the infirmary, with only the occasional interjection or question, but Izuku can tell he’s legitimately interested and not just humouring the student stuck in his head. It makes him feel something but Izuku tucks it away to muse on later.
They reach the infirmary and Me Shouta beelines to Recovery Girl, whose face is deeply creased with worry. She looks up at the sound of footsteps. “Please tell me that Midoriya is with you,” she says, an undercurrent of anxiety evident in her voice.
“He is,” Mr Shouta confirms and her face instantly smoothes of most of the worry. What’s left, Izuku thinks, is probably a more normal amount of stress caused by being the only nurse in a hero school. He gets an impression of agreement from his teacher.
“That’s a relief,” Recovery Girl says. “His body is unconscious, but not in the ‘nobody home’ way it was yesterday. His brain activity levels were concerning.”
“He did say he was stuck with me,” Mr Shouta explains. “So a side effect of his quirk must be the inability to return to his body should he be out of it when it’s knocked out properly.”
It’s weird being a fly on the wall for a conversation about him, Izuku thinks, admittedly a little snidely. Mr Shouta mentally sighs at him.
“Midoriya would prefer for this conversation to wait until he can contribute more easily,” Mr Shouta tells Recovery Girl, sounding somewhat amused by the situation.
The Youthful Heroine snorts. “That would be more convenient,” she admits.
Something strikes Izuku suddenly, and he buzzes with excitement.
“What?” Mr Shouta asks warily.
“She’s like me!” Izuku thinks gleefully. “Kissing quirks! Do you think she’d start a club with me?”
Instead of answering, Mr Shouta turns to Recovery Girl and says, “Please tell me his body will be conscious soon,” sounding desperate.
Izuku can’t hide his laughter, and he doesn’t even try. He can feel Mr Shouta trying to feign annoyance but well - Izuku is in his head, and can tell it’s just a show the man is putting on.
Which frankly, makes it even funnier.
It takes another ten minutes of being laughed at by the problem child, and then thirty of Shouta distracting him with theoretical quirk analysis before Midoriya’s body is ‘awake’ again; or at least as much as it can be without a driver at the wheel.
With fond exasperation, he shoos Midoriya out of his head and into his own body so the kid can get some proper rest. He’s had a traumatic morning and a nap will do him good, even though the overachieving brat complains about missing class again. It takes Shouta saying he’ll get notes from his teachers for him for the kid to finally give into his fatigue and go the fuck to sleep in his own body, but he can’t even be annoyed.
With Midoriya in his head, Shouta can feel exactly how much the kid wants to learn, how enthusiastic and genuine he is in his drive to save people and be a hero. It’s disgustingly sweet, actually, how genuine the brat is.
The desperation that accompanies that though; it reminds Shouta of himself, of dreaming of being a hero and fighting his way there with bared teeth and sharpened nails. Behind the kid there is an indomitable drive, and it’s writ into his bones that he will be a hero.
Shaking his head to clear it, Shouta, now without a passenger, runs his hand through his hair. Never so soon into a school year has he had a student cause as many problems as Izuku Midoriya. It’s only Monday. Not that it’s the kid’s fault, not at all. Just an extremely unfortunate set of circumstances compounding on each other until Shouta was busy.
It’s the first proper day of term, not counting orientation. Shouta feels entitled to be bitter that he’s got such a long list of things to do already.
His two priorities currently consisted of two people: Katsuki Bakugou, and Toshinori Yagi aka All Might. And while that was only a list of two, there were so many issues related to them that sorting through the web of intrigue would take time.
So Shouta has to prioritise, triage the issues he’s got. First and foremost, he needs to discipline Bakugou and All Might for the battle trial fiasco. Then, he needs to deal with expelling the teenager, although Shouta wants to be thorough and so a visit to Aldera Junior High will be necessary. While not strictly necessary for a simple expulsion, Shouta fully intends to press charges, and so he wants Bakugou in UA where he can’t flee before he has to face the consequences of his actions. There’s no point to this if Bakugou can simply attend a different Hero school.
Reluctantly, Shouta decides that further digging into One For All and All Might can wait, even as horrifying and fascinating as the whole ‘transferable quirk’ situation is.
He double checks that Midoriya is still sleeping, and reassured, heads to the Principal’s office, where Recovery Girl had informed him that All Might was waiting. Nedzu was also almost certainly displeased that a student had been so severely injured on the first day of term. Especially because Midoriya had been assaulted by Bakugou the day before as well.
Goddammit, Shouta had sent out emails last night explaining that the two were to be separated for a reason. That reason being preventing this exact fucking situation. By god, Shouta is going to find out why All Might had not heeded his instructions, and then put the fear of said god into him.
With that thought, Shouta stalks into Nedzu’s office and pins All Might with what he knows from experience is a glare ferocious enough to make the weak of will piss their pants.
Yagi doesn’t piss his pants, but he does flinch back, and Shouta is quietly pleased that he put that look on the Number One Hero’s face. “So,” he drawls, “You are going to explain to me exactly how this ‘battle trial’ happened, and I am going to listen and then decide whether or not you get to leave this room with any limbs attached.”
All Might gulps nervously. He’s deflated currently, which makes the panic in his sunken eyes all the easier to see. And then he snaps into a bow from the waist. “I apologise,” he says to the floor. “I made an inexcusable error in judgement.”
“That’s been established. I want to know why.”
What follows is basically this: All Might was overenthusiastic with his teaching, and didn’t read his emails because he was too busy saving cats from a tree.
So Shouta is pissed but the man isn’t entirely irredeemable. Apparently Yagi has already spoken at length with Bakugou about the situation, and is recommending an immediate in-school suspension. The gauntlets, of course, he’s already left with Majima to be destroyed.
Shouta settles a little, eases up his glare a fraction. And then Yagi, still in his bow, asks for help.
From Shouta.
And Nedzu, but still.
What the fuck?
Shouta suddenly wishes his quirk was like Midoriya’s, so he could instantaneously flee this situation. He stares at the still bowing Number One, then at Nedzu who is grinning with all his teeth - absolutely horrifying - and then back at Yagi.
“I’m still too angry to deal with you right now,” Shouta says eventually. “Ask me next week. Run your plans by Nedzu until then.”
Then, Shouta turns to Nedzu and sighs. He eyes Yagi, contemplates booting him from the office for the upcoming talk and decides against it. Shouta might occasionally be sharing a headspace with Midoriya, but Yagi has known him for nearly a year even if the brat won’t talk about how they met. His insight may be useful.
“We need to deal with Bakugou,” Shouta says tiredly. “His behaviour during the battle trial was horrific, yes, but that is apparently the tip of the iceberg. He’s been bullying, tormenting and scarring Midoriya since they were four. I’ll be visiting their junior high to pick up the full incident reports tomorrow.”
In the split second following this revelation, Shouta sees Yagi’s face crumple, even as Nedzu closes his eyes and puts his paws together, any semblance of humour drained instantly. It’s immediately clear that for all his mistakes, Yagi genuinely cares for Midoriya.
“How did he get into UA?” Nedzu’s voice is cold.
Shouta doesn’t hesitate to glare at his boss. “Because his victim was quirkless,” he hisses. “So his school never reported any of the incidents unless it was to blame them on Midoriya.”
Nedzu frowns, an expression that frankly doesn’t suit his little face. “I see,” he murmurs. “I - miscalculated.”
“Yes,” Shouta agrees. “You did. And you would have been happy for me to continue along this year without the knowledge that one of my students was a ‘late bloomer’.” He even includes the air quotes. Yagi flinches at the unsubtle implication that Shouta is aware of One For All. Shouta snorts then. “Even if that did also turn out to be true.”
“Wait -“ Yagi says. “Midoriya has a quirk?”
Shouta raises an eyebrow. “How did you miss this? It’s all over the school by now. Unprecedented late bloomer quirk activation,” he says slowly. “It’s a form of touch telepathy with tricky manifestation requirements.”
“Very dramatic requirements,” Nedzu chimes in, and Shouta is quietly relieved to see the chimaera’s usual grin is back in place. That just means the Principal has a plan.
Yagi looks confused, so Shouta heaves out a sigh. “Midoriya had to be both unconscious and then have his lips come into contact with someone else’s bare skin,” he explains shortly. “He can create a mental link - he seems to be calling them doors - allowing him to transfer his consciousness into someone else’s body.”
Yagi stares in shock, and then chokes up some blood. Shouta hands him a tissue from his belt, because he may still be pissed at the other hero, but he isn’t a complete asshole. The blonde accepts with a murmur of thanks and wipes the blood from his mouth.
“That’s a remarkable quirk,” Yagi comments once he’s recovered.
Shouta snorts. “You’re not the one with a problem child interrupting your naps,” he says wryly. He turns his attention back to Nedzu. “You’re plotting; what is it?”
Nedzu’s smile is a small, sharp little thing. “Why Shouta, you always use such derogatory terms! I’m just planning out some consequences that seem to be long overdue.”
“Plotting,” Shouta repeats, and he swears Yagi’s mouth twitches the smallest amount.
Nedzu waves a dismissive paw at him. “Well, either way,” he says, faux diplomatically, “Bakugou will immediately be transferred out of Class 1A; his presence would continue to disrupt Midoriya’s education and we can’t have that!” He puts his paws lightly together. “The question is then, in which class do we place him?”
“We don’t. Expulsion,” Shouta says immediately. “His attitude is not only incompatible with those of the heroes that UA graduates, but of any student.”
The failure that is Endeavour hangs heavy over the room. The first time the hero had caused a civilian casualty had been the year Nedzu gave Shouta indisputable expulsion rights. The chimaera refused to have such a hero graduate from his school ever again.
“I agree that he should be removed from Heroics,” Yagi says slowly, and Shouta pins him with a piercing look. There’s a ‘but’ coming, he can sense it. “However, he’s a frighteningly intelligent and violent boy, and I believe that removing his goal from him entirely may cause him to uh, snap.”
It’s a fair point, Shouta concedes grumpily. And one that shows that maybe Yagi isn’t as hopeless a case as his first day of teaching had made him seem.
“What’s your suggestion?” Shouta asks, curious despite himself.
Yagi looks strangely nervous. “He gets moved to the Support course. Students that graduate from that track can apply to take the Support Hero exam after they graduate, so it still gives him that opportunity if it’s what he truly wants.” He hesitates briefly and then adds, “And such an option will be better for Midoriya’s mental health; he tends to blame himself for things that aren’t his fault.”
It’s actually a very neat plan, Shouta realises. Because it would also force Bakugou to compromise on his ideals; he could become a hero, but to do so, he would have to work for others. He lets out a disbelieving snort. “It’s a good idea,” he says. He gives Yagi an appraising look. “You can keep your limbs.” Shouta leaves the ‘for now’ as a fun little implied threat to hang in the air. Yagi had, after all, screwed up in a major way.
Yagi edges away from Shouta nervously, and he hides a smirk in his capture weapon, before flicking his gaze back to Nedzu. The chimaera looks pleased with the solution as well. “An excellent idea, thank you, Yagi. However, there must also be further sanctions,” he adds on. “Simply transferring Bakugou will not get to the root of his issues.”
“I have one major condition, aside from mandatory sessions with Hound Dog or another licenced therapist,” Shouta says. “And that is that Midoriya is comfortable with Bakugou remaining at UA. Obviously, we would make sure that he’s kept away from Midoriya, if the kid agrees.” He pauses then, and remembers that the students are well aware of transfer opportunities. “And he should be barred from participating in the next two sports festival; maybe the third year as well depending on how his therapist deems him to be progressing.” No need to worry about the third year festival - at that point no transfers were permitted due to the lack of time for students to properly catch up on studies.
Nedzu nods in satisfaction. “Indeed, those are good points, Shouta. I will of course, also be updating his student file to correctly reflect his record. We will also have to bring in the police and state prosecutors to work out legal repercussions for him; we cannot just sweep this under the rug.”
Yagi brightens slightly. “I’m good friends with Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi,” he says. “He’s a shrewd and just colleague who I believe would be of invaluable assistance.”
Shouta nods absently - he’s only interacted with the detective a few times personally, but he’s one of the few police officers that doesn’t have any questionable rumours about him. He’s a solid, reliable sort. “That would work. Lie Detection quirk, correct?”
Yagi nods. “Yes,” he says. “Which also means that if Bakugou is not genuine about anything, we’ll know.”
“And of course there will have to be a parent meeting.” Nedzu says far too cheerfully and Shouta groans.
Parent meetings are the worst, especially when it comes to expulsions. And while Bakugou wasn’t being expelled from UA, he was still being ejected from heroics. It may as well be the same thing to parents. Add in legal charges and repercussions and that is not going to be a fun meeting.
Nedzu laughs at Shouta’s dramatics. “Don’t worry, I’ll arrange it,” he says in a teasingly soothing voice. “You just need to show up and present any evidence you think necessary.”
Shouta inclines his head. “As I said earlier, I’ll be getting reports from Aldera Junior High. Midoriya may give consent for photographs of his scars, but there’s no guarantee.” His mouth pulls down. “I saw only one and it was bad.”
Nedzu looks troubled. “How bad?”
“It covered his right shoulder from his collarbone to his shoulder blade. It was definitely a third degree burn. If it was treated, it wasn’t done professionally.”
“I see,” Nedzu says, very quietly. “I understand now why you’re insisting on legal charges instead of handling this internally.”
Shouta rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “It’s necessary,” he says. “Bakugou needs to find out now that this behaviour is inexcusable.”
Nedzu nods. “I’ll arrange for the Bakugou family to meet with us tomorrow, along with the Detective and a prosecutor.”
“Great,” Shouta says. “I’m going to take a nap.”
Izuku goes home that day without new scars due only to the magic of Recovery Girl’s kiss. He had of course asked her for advice on managing a kiss-based quirk but the old heroine was incredibly unhelpful and shooed him out with a ‘just don’t kiss anyone!’ and a lolly.
His mother has been updated by the school and sits him down in the kitchen when he gets home. She is understandably horrified that for two days in a row, he has been knocked out by a classmate. Izuku does not tell her that it was by the one she calls her nephew by love, if not blood.
She wants to pull him out of UA.
Izuku stares at her, stands from the table and closes himself in his room. The only word he says to her before doing so is, ‘No.’ It is enough for her to lock his door from the outside, a warning she hasn’t used in a year.
He crawls into his bed and sobs. If his mother decides to go against his wishes, Izuku will be ripped away from the first teacher to have ever cared, from his first friend in a decade, and from All Might.
Izuku cries in his room, and Inko cries at the kitchen table. She loves her son, but seeing him hurt so badly isn’t something she can live with. Especially when he won’t let her in.
Izuku goes to school the next morning subdued and trembling. He drops off an envelope with Mr Aizawa and doesn’t meet his eyes even as he mumbles out his agreement that the other boy remaining in the school is probably for the best. He paints on a smile for his new friends - he still can’t entirely believe he has friends now, even if it’s just the pretty girl from the exam and Iida who had apologised profusely for his stress-induced rudeness- and studiously avoids Bakugou.
His class elects a class president - Momo Yaoyorozu - and she’s very clever and has a super cool ponytail that Izuku is somewhat envious of. He thinks she’ll do a good job. Izuku doesn’t get any votes, which he’s thankful for, and is probably because he’s spent more time in the infirmary than with his class so far.
The role of Vice President is tied between Iida and a nice red headed boy called Kirishima. Izuku loves his teeth and has so many questions that he has to forcefully withhold. But with the way the boy smiles and laughs easily, Izuku thinks he might be willing to answer at some point.
And then, just as Izuku is finally feeling better, the intruder alarm is set off and chaos abounds.
Iida and Kirishima work together really well to calm down the crowds - and really the second and third years should know better - before they can all head back to class. Izuku sees that Bakugou isn’t there, and Mr Aizawa isn’t either and can’t help the cold swelling of fear in his chest.
He knows that Mr Aizawa is expelling Bakugou from Class 1A but Izuku is terrified of how the other boy will react.
He thinks of the scars littering his upper body and knows his fear is justified.
After the media debacle during lunch, Shouta makes his way to Nedzu’s office, where the Bakugou family, Detective Tsukauchi and a state prosecutor - he already forgot their name - are waiting with Yagi and Nedzu. He’s the last to arrive, but with a single eyebrow raised at Nedzu, his tardiness is excused - the chimaera knows him well enough to be aware that Shouta wouldn’t be late for something like this unless there was something more important taking up his time.
Figuring out how the hell to keep his husband from murdering a bunch of nosy reporters is definitely something ‘more important’ in Shouta’s humble opinion.
The conversation is, frankly, awful. Shouta takes no pleasure in shattering children’s perceptions, no matter how other UA staff joke about his reputation. Worse still is seeing the broken looks on Bakugou’s parents’ faces. Masaru Bakugou breaks down in tears at the sight of the photos Midoriya had taken of his own injuries, of scars in a distinctive starburst pattern. Mitsuki Bakugou is stone-faced and deathly pale. She does not look her son in the eyes.
For his part, Katsuki Bakugou is silent and still. There is almost no sign of the loud and angry teen of the previous days, except for fists that clench and unclench in distress. Shouta keeps his gaze impassive and cool, even as a single silent tear makes it way down the teen’s face when he sees the worst of Midoriya’s scars, the awful one stretched over his throat and shoulder. It’s clear that he has never before considered what marks he might have left behind.
Bakugou’s options are outlined to him: either he is placed in a juvenile rehabilitation school, or he remains in UA with explicit and unbreakable conditions.
He very quietly, meekly murmurs out that UA is his dream school; he accepts the new conditions of enrolment, and swears to stay away from Midoriya. Detective Tsukauchi meets Shouta’s eyes and offers a single nod - the kid means what he says.
It is because of that, and only that, that Katsuki Bakugou remains a student of UA, now in the Support Class. The state prosecutor agrees to the terms, but also states that a record of violent assaults will be placed on his permanent record.
Yagi, in his guise as a humble secretary, escorts the Bakugou family and the prosecutor out of the school. All are silent as they leave.
As soon as the door closes behind them, Shouta slumps down into a chair and buries his head in his hands. Nedzu and the detective remain quiet for a long moment.
Finally, Tsukauchi shakes his head, and sighs heavily. “Our society is broken,” he mutters. “How the hell that kid never realised Midoriya is a person until today...”
Shouta resists the urge to find the nearest toilet and puke his guts up.
It’s clear that Masaru and Mitsuki Bakugou had not raised their son to deem others worth less than himself. Which means that it has been the educational system, from daycare to junior high that failed Midoriya so badly.
Shouta had passed the incident reports to the state prosecutor after reading a select few to the family. They hadn’t painted a pretty picture.
It makes him dread reading the student letter that accompanies Midoriya’s file - Shouta hadn’t lied to the kid when he said he didn’t read them before meeting the students. But he needs to know just how badly his student had been treated.
Shouta is, of course, also extremely concerned about the panic attack Midoriya had when the letter was brought up.
He groans, gives Nedzu a look and politely excuses himself, even as Yagi shows himself back in. Shouta is still peeved with the other man, and is not in the mood to talk with him any further.
The school day is well and truly over by the time Shouta drags himself to his private office to retrieve Midoriya’s file, and then up to Hizashi’s. He doesn’t want to be alone when he inevitably loses his faith in humanity.
Shouta’s faith in humanity is expelled from his body along with the remains of his lunch. Hizashi holds his hair out of his face as he clutches the nearest wastebasket, and murmurs soothingly to him.
Gods, how Midoriya had survived long enough to make it to UA... Shouta is just grateful that he did.
The letter had been sickening in its blatant lies and slander of the kid.
The worst though, was the last line.
He may be useless in nearly all respects, but a clever teacher can find some use for him.
Yeah, Shouta can read between the lines here.
He throws up again and Hizashi makes a small distressed noise. “Shouta,” he murmurs, “It’ll be alright. We’ve got him now, we can help him.”
It’s a small comfort, but Shouta clings to it desperately.
It is a perfectly ordinary day when it happens, except for the fact that it is the first excursion of the year for Class 1A.
The trip to the USJ for rescue training is a standard warm-up excursion for the Hero course students. For those in Shouta’s class that survive the quirk apprehension test, it is the next level of potential assessment. Many of his students that survive orientation do not return after the field trip.
Lucky for them, Shouta doesn’t get the opportunity to expel anyone.
Unluckily, it’s because the USJ has been invaded by villains seeking to kill All Might.
Fuck.
As he pushes himself faster and further then ever before, Shouta prays his class will survive.
They do, somehow, miraculously. All Might is late but not fatally so, and even as he lies crushed into the pavement, Shouta feels relief that his students are safe now.
He passes out.
Izuku sees his teacher wreaking havoc in the plaza and for a moment, a brief and wonderful moment, he thinks that everything will be alright. Mr Aizawa had even left with a brief, “It’ll be okay, Midoriya,” tossed over his shoulder.
Then, of course, he, Tsu and Mineta are dumped into the flood zone, and water is choking Izuku’s lungs, and he has to desperately fight to stay in his own mind because if he slips now he’ll almost certainly die.
Izuku doesn’t want to die. Not anymore.
So he fights and doesn’t drown and uses One For All as best he can to save himself and his classmates. The whirlpool works as an excellent distraction and everything is fine until -
Until Izuku sees Mr Aizawa being crushed by a creature he can barely believe is real, it seems like some sort of monster and -
There’s a man with pale hair and cracking skin reaching for Tsu with a terrifying laugh, a whispered promise to make the Symbol of Peace hurt and -
Aizawa-sensei is still fighting.
How he can even lift his head with that horrifying thing just sitting on him...
But Tsu is safe and then she and Izuku are in the firing line again as the hand-man comes for them, rage twisting his voice as he howls for the creature - the nomu to come and take out the brats.
Izuku punches the creature and even as his arm snaps like a twig he feels powerless quirkless again because it does nothing.
Mr Aizawa is bleeding out and Izuku isn’t strong enough to save him.
All Might is strong enough to save him though, and he saves everyone. He buys enough time even as his own depletes for the other UA teachers to arrive, and Izuku’s classmates are safe.
Izuku wonders how he’s ever supposed to live up to the hero who singlehandedly changed Japan for the better.
He couldn’t even save Mr Aizawa.
Izuku shakes off his thoughts as he gets checked over by Recovery Girl who tuts and pats his head. She presses her lips to his forehead and he slumps sideways as his energy is sapped away by his arm straightening itself out.
Ochako catches him, wraps an arm around his waist and taps his cheek to remove his gravity. “It’s kind of like the exam, huh?” she says lightly, and her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
Izuku meets her halfway though - it’s the least he can do. “Except you’re carrying me now,” he jokes in return and his friend’s smile becomes that little bit more real. Tenya joins them a few minutes later, and they all cling together in a huddle until they’re cleared to leave. They stagger to the train station and go their separate ways.
There is no school the next day, as Principal Nedzu sends out an update to the parents about revamping UA’s security systems. By Friday, he assures them, classes will be able to resume as usual.
Izuku is relieved.
Inko is not.
Thursday afternoon, Shouta is visited by All Might himself - or rather, Toshinori Yagi. The man is a wreck, face hollow and haunted by the target he has inadvertently placed on his students’ backs.
He sits beside Shouta’s bedside for a long time in silence.
Shouta heaves out an impatient sigh. “What,” he snaps. He’s sore all over - crushed limbs and a shattered cheekbone will do that - and he just wants Hizashi to get back from his patrol so he can hold his husband’s hand again. He does not want to have to pry this conversation out of Yagi but it seems like he’ll have to.
The blonde man startles, and then dips his head. He looks at Shouta with remorse shining from every inch of his face. “Aizawa,” he says softly, “I owe you an apology and a debt that cannot be repaid.”
Shouta is quiet. If he could raise an eyebrow to convey ‘no shit’ he would, but alas, his face is covered in bandages.
“Why was stopping crime that other heroes could have handled more important than your teaching duties?” He asks coldly instead, and Yagi visibly sinks in on himself. He looks tired, but Shouta looks like a mummy, so he’s not particularly sympathetic right now. Before he left, Hizashi had patiently read out Nedzu’s statement of events while Shouta had stared at the ceiling and stewed in his frustration.
The Symbol of Peace clasps his hands together and leans forward slightly. “Aizawa,” Yagi says very seriously. “You can never tell Young Midoriya this. The true reason I was late was not that I ran out of time stopping crime but - but because I was accompanying Nedzu to visit his junior high. I had to - stop and compose myself before joining the class.”
Fuck. Shouta may have miscalculated. He curses Nedzu for not informing him of this visit - the damn chimaera clearly hadn’t wanted Shouta to insist on going as well - and he would have.
“He’ll blame himself,” Yagi says, his eyes burning with grief. “It’s not his fault but he will shoulder the blame anyway. All his life, it’s all he’s been told he’s good at.”
Shouta closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The anger he had at the man for being late is draining away - he remembers only a few nights ago being physically sick at how how the kid was treated - and he understands. Since reading that letter, Shouta has very carefully made sure to not loom too close to the kid, and stays in his eyeline as much as possible. For Yagi, who’s known Midoriya nearly a year now, it must be worse.
Because there’s a guilt there that if the kid had said anything, Yagi would have helped.
But Midoriya had stayed silent - Shouta swears to get the name of every person that taught him to do so - and so Yagi had continued in blissful ignorance.
It’s no wonder the man had to take time to brace himself to look at those wide green eyes before joining the rescue training.
“I’ll do my best,” Shouta says honestly to his coworker. “But with Midoriya’s quirk, that may not be entirely possible.”
Yagi is clearly thrown off for a second before his shadowed eyes clear. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “Mind Transfer.”
“Mm.” Shouta hums. “He’s still learning how to control it so he can’t always maintain privacy for either of us”, he says with a small hint of amusement. Midoriya’s mutterings had been clever and sometimes unintentionally hilarious at points.
Which reminds him. Shouta turns his head as much as he can to pin Yagi with a glare. The man gulps.
“So,” Shouta says in his friendliest tone. “One For All, huh?”
On Friday, Izuku wakes up and is about to make breakfast for himself and his mother when Inko pads quietly into the kitchen. She looks at him with a heartbroken expression and pleads for Izuku to stay at home just one more day. He’s had so many injuries this last week, and she’s just so worried that - Izuku agrees.
He is tired, Izuku admits. Maybe resting for the day and over the weekend will be for the best. That way, when he goes back to school on Monday he’ll be at his best!
He tries not to frown when he sees his mother’s face fall at his enthusiasm.
She - she wouldn’t take him out of UA right?
She hadn’t mentioned anything more about making him leave UA, so Izuku doesn’t have to worry... right?
Except on Monday morning, Inko does not let Izuku out of the house. She had been trying to hide it from him, but she will not let him return to UA. Inko is very firm in this decision, and will not change her mind. In fact, she’ll be homeschooling him for the foreseeable future. The implication is clear: Izuku cannot be trusted with his own future.
She tells this to Izuku in a clipped voice as he eats his breakfast standing at the kitchen counter.
Izuku startles, drops his cereal in fear and shock. Milk soaks his socks and he doesn’t care. He is silent as he returns to his room, sits at his desk and thinks. Inko is overprotective, he knows this, and he loves her and knows she loves him but this - she’s crushing all of his hopes without a care in the world.
His door is locked again. His window has bars, and he is trapped.
This is a fact: Izuku is scared of his mother.
This is another fact: Izuku is physically trapped in his room.
A third one: Izuku - Izuku can escape. If he needs to, he can flee to Mr Aizawa but - is his situation really that bad? Inko has never hit him, has always fed and clothed him but - there is a lock on his door and bars on his window.
And somehow, she had never once, in ten years, asked him about the burns and broken bones he came home with. And Bakugou had not always been kind enough to avoid Izuku’s face. It was miraculous really, that he hadn’t scarred in a place somewhere so visible.
If Izuku had a phone he would search online for answers. Instead he has a desktop computer with child safety protocols still installed even though he is fifteen. He knows that there is a mirroring program installed, and that Inko always checks his search history.
Izuku hesitates. He has a choice to make now.
One: He does nothing. His mother withdraws him from UA, separates him from the only connections he’s ever made with anyone aside from her.
Two: He asks Mr Aizawa for help. It will be scary, and humiliating if he’s just overreacting, but - what if Izuku isn’t just being dramatic?
Mr Aizawa had helped him with Bakugou, had been so understanding about this whole situation. He’d even started making sure Izuku could track his movements in the class more easily and keeps a safe distance away! Izuku can only hope that this won’t be the straw that breaks Mr Aizawa’s patience with him.
Izuku sits and circles in his own thoughts as hours pass. His stomach is rumbling when he makes a decision - it must be well past lunch time, and he’d never gotten to eat most of his breakfast.
He lays down on his bed, closes his eyes and looks for the door in his mind that has such warmth behind it.
Mr Shouta is slurping a jelly pack when Izuku slips into his head. He startles, slurps too hard and has to cough to avoid choking. Izuku stammers out wild apologies, doing the mental equivalent of waving his hands around in apology.
“It’s fine,” Mr Shouta says, and Izuku can hear a murmur of truth in his words. He settles himself then, takes a moment, an imaginary deep breath.
“I think I need help,” Izuku whispers, and shame crawls around his thoughts.
“Okay,” Mr Shouta says simply. “Talk to me.”
And Izuku does.
When he finishes, guilt wraps around his mental throat, and he shrinks in. He’s burdened Mr Shouta so much already and now this- this childish, selfish fear - he shouldn’t be here - especially not when his teacher is still so badly injured - he -
“No,” Mr Shouta says firmly, “I’m glad you came to me with this. I can help you. You’re not a burden, and you’re exactly where you need to be.”
Izuku remains curled up in a ball. He’s done enough talking for now. Mr Shouta sends him a gentle sense of understanding. “That’s alright,” he reassures Izuku. “You’ve told me enough that I can take action to help you. You can rest now. It’ll be okay, Midoriya.”
And with the conviction that Izuku could feel, how could he do anything but listen to his teacher? He uncurls from his tight ball of anxiety, just enough that he’s present in Mr Shouta’s mind. His teacher‘s quiet thoughts are soothing background noise, and Izuku finally lets himself relax.
Shouta keeps a tight hold of his thoughts until all that comes from Midoriya is a vague sense of sleeping. How, exactly, the kid is managing that in someone else’s body is anyone’s guess but it’s not a bother and it is kind of cute.
Shouta is immediately grateful that Midoriya was not aware to hear that particular thought.
Shouta had been somewhat concerned when Midoriya had missed homeroom, but given the previous week it hadn’t been too shocking. Hagakure, Ashido, Mineta and Satou were all still absent as well. So he’d been surprised, admittedly, when late Monday afternoon the kid finally turned up to school for the first time since Wednesday.
Well, sort of turned up to school.
Whatever.
The kid stirs briefly but Shouta unashamedly hushes him and tells him to go back to sleep. Midoriya obeys, and he relaxes to know that the kid feels safe enough to do so.
He has a meeting with Detective Tsukauchi later to go over the events from the previous week - and the fact that the USJ had been attached, that UA had been violated makes him sick - so he can talk to the man afterwards about Midoriya’s situation.
The kid had seemed fairly certain that he wasn’t in any immediate physical danger, but Shouta had made him promise that if anything changed he was to say so immediately. It is the only reason he doesn’t drag the detective out of the room and to Midoriya’s residence as soon as he lays eyes on the man.
They’re in Nedzu’s office again, but this time with Thirteen, Yagi and the Detective rather than a student’s family. For the first time in his life, Shouta wishes that this was a parent-teacher conference instead.
It’s a long but necessary discussion that they have, going over each of the students’ statements and hashing out exactly what took place at the USJ. All of them are subdued, even Nedzu, as they piece together the timeline of events that never should have happened. Midoriya is still and silent in a way that would concern Shouta if not for the way the kid is reminding him very strongly of a kitten deeply asleep.
“Detective,” Shouta says after the long and painful debrief, “If you have the time, there’s a separate matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
Tsukauchi looks surprised but nods his agreement. “Of course,” he says, blatantly curious. “I’ve got nothing immediately pressing right now.”
Shouta inclines his head in quiet thanks, before leading the man out of the office, leaving behind a curious looking Yagi, and Nedzu. The chimaera, Shouta knows, won’t interfere; he’s excellent at picking up cues as to where his presence will help or hinder or simply isn’t necessary. Yagi, on the other hand, is nosy, and attached to Midoriya, so his involvement would be - displeasing. And probably not what the kid wants. Luckily, the Symbol of Peace is still skirting around Shouta, obviously still intimidated by the thorough and well-deserved tongue-lashing he’d received regarding giving One For All to a child.
Once in a private meeting room, Shouta leans tiredly against a table. “I’m reporting a case of child abuse of one of my students,” he says bluntly.
Tsukauchi looks tired. It’s understandable. “Name?”
“Izuku Midoriya,” Shouta says. “It’s his mother, Inko Midoriya. Address is Unit 35 Building XX, Upper Musutafu.”
“Is he in any immediate danger?” Tsukauchi asks and Shouta hesitates.
“It’s complicated,” he settles on. “Yes and no.”
Tsukauchi looks like he has a headache. “I hate that you’re not lying,” the man says dryly. “Can you give me more than that?”
Shouta pauses. “One moment,” he says. He turns his attention inwards and pokes at the ball that feels like Midoriya.
“Mr Shouta?” the kid asks sleepily. Shouta quickly - mental communication is so efficient - lets the kid know what’s going on and the detective’s question. “You can tell him,” Midoriya says tiredly. “Can I nap again?”
“Sure, kid,” Shouta says and returns his attention to Tsukauchi. He realises he must’ve looked more than a little odd staring into space after saying ‘one moment’ and ducks automatically into his capture weapon. “Midoriya has a mind transfer quirk. His body is currently at his home but his consciousness is with me.”
Tsukauchi blinks. “That’s an interesting quirk,” he says blandly. Then - “What the fuck?”
“Mm,” Shouta hums. “It’s an interesting one. Back to the report of child abuse?”
“Of course.”
Detective Tsukauchi, Shouta finds, is as thorough and competent as Yagi had claimed. He’d shown this off during the meeting earlier of course, but unrestrained by others, his words are blunt and efficient. Shouta also carefully outlines the potential abuse Midoriya suffered at the hands of his previous teachers, but that investigation can wait. The kid is safe from those perpetrators, but his mother is an immediate risk.
Within twenty minutes the Detective has Shouta’s statement, and they’re both on the way to Midoriya’s apartment. Halfway there the kid wakes up again, hears what’s going on and determinedly slips back to his own body. He tells Shouta he’ll be waiting, bag packed, and his heart breaks a little. No kid deserves this.
It turns out be an incredibly unpleasant interaction with Inko Midoriya. The woman is convinced that the way she both coddles
and then ignores her son - even when he’s bleeding and broken - is perfectly normal. That a lock on his bedroom door and bars on the window are normal.
Tsukauchi and Shouta exchange glances, and the officer leads the woman into the kitchen while he goes to get the kid. Midoriya, once Shouta picks the lock on his door, and is able to see him, is trembling, but the hand not clutching a single large duffel bag is clenched in determination. He meets Shouta’s gaze levelly despite the evident tear tracks on his cheeks.
The room itself is... extremely weird. Floor to ceiling the walls are smothered under posters of All Might, and there’s figurines of the hero on every available surface. It’s garish, childish even. Midoriya follows Shouta’s eyes and shrugs. “All Might is the only thing she thinks I like,” the kid mutters. “So she buys me new merch all the time and if I don’t display it she gets upset.”
Ah. Another manipulative tactic, Shouta realises. It’s still unclear as to how deliberate Inko was in her treatment of her son, but intentional or not, Shouta would be removing Midoriya from the situation. He gestures for the kid to follow him, and somewhat surprisingly, said kid is instantly beside Shouta, fingers catching the loose material of his sleeve.
It’s a sweet, childish thing, but Shouta doesn’t shake Midoriya off - not that he’d dare, when this is the first physical contact the kid has ever initiated with him. Instead, he gently tugs Midoriya along with him and out of the small flat, deliberately placing himself between the him and the kitchen door. “Is there anything else you need or want?” He asks, voice soft and Midoriya shakes his head.
“Not.. not right now.”
Yeah, that’s fair. He ushers the kid downstairs and into his car - he’s going to make Tsukauchi catch a cab back to the station because really, getting Midoriya to UA is the priority here. It’s protocol for children to be checked over by a medical professional when they’ve been removed from an abusive home. Recovery Girl wasn’t going to be pleased to have Midoriya in her office again, but it couldn’t be helped; it wasn’t like the kid was trying to get sent there. And as a shiny new ward of UA, Midoriya would, of course, receive only the best treatment, so Chiyo would have to suck it up.
She clicks her tongue as expected when Shouta escorts Midoriya in, but keeps her mouth shut after a quick, quirk-fuelled glare. The kid is pale and trembling, his eyes dull as he submits to the examination. Shouta blatantly telegraphs and then lays a gentle hand on his student’s shoulder and wishes that none of this was necessary. Midoriya leans ever so slightly into his touch, and Shouta is relieved he didn’t accidentally trigger the kid.
When Recovery Girl is done, she pats Midoriya gently on the head and taps away, syringe clicking with every step.
“C’mon,” Shouta says quietly. “Let’s get you settled.”
For the night, Midoriya is set up in the UA Ward Building, which is thankfully seldom used. While all enrolment contracts allow for UA to take emergency custody of students, it’s rare that the school actually has to do so. There had been three wards in the previous year, if Shouta recalls correctly, but two had graduated out and the last had moved in with a close friend’s family and no longer needed the school to have custody. So for now the small building - small by UA standards so the size of a modest mansion - stands silent and empty.
Nedzu, the prying bastard, has clearly already made arrangements for Midoriya to stay there, as the door is unlocked and the lights are on. Shouta shows the kid to one of the bedrooms and sighs. “Are you alright on your own?”
Midoriya blinks up at him. He’s still trembling slightly, but he isn’t quite as awfully pale as he had been. He looks thoughtful and then nods. Shouta’s not entirely convinced but if the kid wants space, he can have it. He probably needs it, actually, considering his overbearing mother.
“Alright,” Shouta says and he puts his hand on Midoriya’s shoulder again in what is fast becoming a familiar gesture. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll give you my number.”
He goes to write it down on a small notepad he keeps in his belt but Midoriya is shaking his head. “I don’t have a phone,” the kid mutters. “Wasn’t allowed one.”
Right. Shouta thinks there’s a landline somewhere in the building but he doesn’t know where exactly. He shrugs. “That’s fine, then,” he says bluntly. “If you need anything just drop in.”
Midoriya blinks at him again and then flushes. “Okay,” the kid mumbles. “Should’ve thought of that.”
Shouta doesn’t think he was supposed to hear that last part so he doesn’t comment on it, just makes a mental note to find one of his old phones for the kid to use. He makes sure Midoriya is comfortable and knows where the kitchen and bathroom are before he leaves. Shouta’s still not certain about leaving the kid alone, but Midoriya had insisted he was fine, so he hadn’t pushed. He does, however, make sure that the Ward Building’s security sends any alerts directly to his phone. Better safe than sorry.
By tomorrow, Shouta is sure that the usual Dorm Parent will be filled in on the situation by Nedzu and it won’t be an issue.
Right.
Shouta groans as he reaches the front door of the building and pulls out his phone to text Hizashi that he won’t be home until the next day. He’ll sleep on the couch, just in case. It’ll be hell on his injuries but worth it for the kid’s sake.
Hizashi sends back a confirmation, and a question, which Shouta hesitates to reply to. Tomorrow the UA staff will be made aware that there’s a new ward so it’s not like it’s a secret.. He ends up sending a short message that there’s a new ward and Shouta is staying the night with them.
Hizashi, wonderful husband that he is, offers to join and Shouta nearly accepts but for the fact that the ward is Midoriya.
The same child who had clearly been abused by his previous teachers. In what ways, Shouta doesn’t know the specifics. And while Hizashi never has and never would lay a hand on a child, it may not be the best idea for him to be there for Midoriya’s first night in a new environment.
He trusts Shouta and from what he can tell, All Might, but no one else. And yet, despite that, Midoriya is a happy kid. His resilience is off the charts, but it’s heartbreaking that it’s had to be.
So Shouta will go without his bed and husband for one night, and will keep Midoriya company from a distance. When he goes to let the kid know he’s staying the night on the couch, he’s already passed out on his bed, still on top of the covers. Shouta hesitates and then gives into his instincts, pulls a blanket from the dresser and lightly drapes it over the sleeping teen.
It wouldn’t do for him to wake up cold, after all.
Izuku wakes in the middle of the night, hungry and scared.
He takes deep breaths to calm himself, and remembers Mr Aizawa saying that he could help himself to whatever was in the kitchen.
Some biscuits and a hot drink sound really good right now.
He nearly hits the roof in fear when he hears breathing in the small living room before he realises that the shape he can vaguely make out, in what little light there is, is just Mr Aizawa asleep on the couch. His bandages are ghostly pale in the moonlight trickling through the window, and guilt stabs through Izuku’s stomach before he brutally squashes it down.
Izuku’s face warms as he suddenly realises his teacher hadn’t wanted him to be alone.
Mr Aizawa really is a softie.
He moves as silently as he can to the kitchen, which is... too silently, really, for someone his age. Izuku thinks that none of his classmates could move so stealthily, not even Jirou or Hagakure.
They haven’t had to learn silence.
And Izuku’s grateful for that, grateful that none of his classmates - except for maybe Todoroki because he’s quiet - have had to learn caution just to survive.
Izuku learned silent footsteps in his mother’s apartment, and silent breathing in stifling classrooms. His pain, even, is a quiet thing, honed to a bare whisper in teacher’s offices, and dark alleys behind the school with sweet smelling burns.
So Izuku is nearly silent as he heats long life milk on the stove and finds an out-of-date tin of hot chocolate shoved behind a packet of biscuits. He ends up foregoing the biscuits - he doesn’t want the crinkle of plastic to wake his teacher - who really is too injured to be sleeping on a couch like that - and settles for just a hot drink to soothe his stomach and nerves.
Except there’s a change in the breathing in the living room and Izuku freezes, mug pressed to his lips, as Mr Aizawa lurches upright - he must’ve had a nightmare, Izuku realises.
“Hot chocolate?” He offers, and Mr Aizawa jerks his head towards Izuku, clearly startled. His eyes clear as he sees who’s in the kitchen, and he nods tiredly.
“That would be great,” his teacher says, voice hoarse. “Thanks, Midoriya.”
Izuku shrugs as he pours what would’ve been his second cup of hot chocolate out of the saucepan and gives it to his teacher instead. “Oh,” he mutters embarrassed. “The hot chocolate powder is technically expired.”
He thinks Mr Aizawa raises an eyebrow under his bandages. “So?” his teacher asks, and slurps the drink with a hum of satisfaction. Izuku snorts softly in amusement.
“How are you feeling?” Mr Aizawa asks suddenly and Izuku... he doesn’t know how to answer that. He looks down at his mug and focuses on how his fingers wrap around the ceramic. Mr Aizawa doesn’t seem upset by him not answering though, just inclines his head and sips his drink.
They sit together in the dark then, for a good hour before Izuku finally feels he can sleep again. He murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’ to his teacher, and then heads back to bed. He tucks himself in properly this time, and pulls the extra blanket into a bundle so he can clutch it like a stuffed toy.
It’s been a long time since Izuku has craved that simple sort of comfort.
He thinks a bit of childishness is justified after his week of hell.
Shouta, when he slips in later to check on Midoriya, thinks so too. He makes a mental note to get the kid one of the fluffiest blankets money can buy.
Izuku wakes on Tuesday morning to the unexpected sound of conversation drifting from the kitchen to his room. It sounds like... Mr Yamada?
Curious, Izuku pads softly down the hall, careful to make sure that he can still be heard if someone wants to. Mr Aizawa, who’s leaning against the counter, gives him an amused look when he slides into the kitchen and his jaw drops at the sight of the blonde pro hero.
Mr Yamada has really pretty hair! It’s super unexpected considering the - interesting - way he styles it for his hero persona.
“Aw, thanks, Midoriya!” Mr Yamada says cheerfully and Izuku turns bright red.
Oops.
Mr Aizawa looks unfairly amused at Izuku’s suffering, taking a sip from his coffee.
Oooh, Izuku would love some coffee.
Mr Aizawa rolls his eyes and nods towards a mug already sitting on the counter. Izuku grabs it happily and slurps it down - it’s that excellent blend from the previous week, so it’s absolutely delicious.
From there, Mr Aizawa and Mr Yamada tell Izuku about what he can expect from his new life. He’ll be in the dorms until he graduates, and even after that for a reasonable amount of time until he can secure his own housing if needed. That afternoon, his Dorm Parent will arrive, an Ishii Hotaru, who has worked with UA wards in the past. He doesn’t have to worry about fees because he’s been transferred to a scholarship enrolment. Izuku will have to keep his grades up, but that won’t be difficult considering he knows that he’s smart, even if his junior high record doesn’t show that.
It’s a strange little boarding school of one, but Izuku thinks it shouldn’t be too bad.
Not that he’s got a ‘good’ standard to compare it to. But - there’s no bars on the windows and Izuku’s door can lock only from the inside. He nods quietly at his teachers, misses the glance they share over his head.
And then the school day starts. Izuku showers and changes into his school uniform - he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to use the hot water so he shivers as he gets under the stream, but the pressure is way better than any he’s had before.
Mr Yamada and Mr Aizawa walk Izuku to the UA building before they head off to wherever it is teachers hide before school starts.
Izuku continues to the 1-A classroom and prays this week will be better than the last.
For the next two weeks, the school buzzes in anticipation of the UA Sports Festival, the announcement of which Izuku had missed. His friends and classmates seem fairly well adjusted despite the villain attack of the previous week, and seeing all of them in their seats soothes a part of Izuku that he hadn’t even realised was still unsettled.
All of his classmates except for Bakugou, of course. Whenever Izuku spots the other boy in the hallways, the blonde looks haunted and wan - like he’s had his life ripped out from under him. He’s still brash and abrasive, but no longer does the sickly sweet smell of nitroglycerin trail after him.
Izuku still avoids him at all costs.
Ishii Hotaru is a kind woman, who is also one of UA’s many financial auditors. She tells him about herself on their first night in the Ward Dorm, and tells Izuku he can come to her for anything, in an oddly detached voice.
Izuku very politely thanks her and does not tell her anything.
He’s already asked for too much from UA, and from Mr Aizawa.
Izuku can’t be a burden.
All Might approaches Izuku only once to try and speak about his mother but when he bursts into inconsolable tears, the hero stops his questioning and just pats his shoulder very gently.
He really isn’t very good with comforting crying teenagers. But he tries, and - Izuku appreciates that.
He accidentally slips out of his own mind a few times, much to his mortification and Mr Aizawa’s gentle amusement. He reassures Izuku that it’s normal for kids to struggle with new quirks, and that it’s fine but Izuku is still somewhat embarrassed.
Especially because Recovery Girl is getting sick of healing his concussions.
Who knew just randomly vacating your body when you’re standing is a bad idea?
It’s not like Izuku is trying to do it on purpose. Although Mr Aizawa does make him practice that too, but Izuku always makes sure he’s lying down or propped up somewhere first.
Mind Transfer is a weird quirk, and stupidly powerful for the type of quirk it is. Mental quirks aren’t usually so strong, let alone telepathy quirks - Izuku suspects that One For All may have enhanced it, and Mr Aizawa and All Might agree after a heated discussion.
He also practices using One For All under Mr Aizawa’s close supervision. All Might’s advice is utterly unhelpful, but the way Mr Aizawa yells at the number one’s ‘just clench and smash’ recommendation is as hilarious as it is mortifying - Izuku is still having trouble adjusting to the whole ‘people caring’ thing after all.
By the time the day before the Sports Festival rolls around, Izuku has figured out a technique he calls ‘Full Cowling’, and he has super cool glittering lightning now! Sure, he can only use 3% of his total power, but he’s also not powdering his bones every time he uses his quirk so he takes the win for what it is.
But it’s the day before the Sports Festival and Izuku is stressed. He knows he’s being a little ridiculous, but - everything is just too much right now, and even though he knows his classmates aren’t meaning to, every little thing they do is sending him back to junior high.
It’s not fun.
Eventually his twitching must give him away, because after morning homeroom Mr Aizawa pulls Izuku out of class with him and marches him down to the infirmary despite his protests. “Sit,” he says, and directs Izuku onto a bed.
Mr Aizawa looks at Izuku very seriously. “Midoriya,” he says firmly, “Would it be easier for you if you attended class with me today?”
Izuku blinks.
“Huh?”
Mr Aizawa sighs. “Hitch a ride again, kid.”
Oh, Izuku realises. Yeah, that - that would be really nice actually. He lays down on the bed instead of answering and closes his eyes. He slips into Mr Aizawa’s mind nearly instantly, and the warmth of his mind wraps around Izuku like a familiar blanket. Almost immediately, he can feel his tension seeping away, his anxieties soothed just by his teacher’s presence.
There’s a soft huff of laughter from Mr Shouta sent Izuku’s way, and then the day continues, with 1-A Hero Law & Ethics first up. He has to admit, it’s absolutely hilarious when Tenya asks where Izuku is and just gets a deadpan ‘he’s in class’ with no other explanation. Mr Shouta sure does have a weird sense of humour, Izuku realises as the rest of his class looks around in mild fear as if he’s hiding in the vents or something.
Actually... Izuku tries to remember where the vents are located and if they could be a viable way to get around.
“Problem Child,” Mr Shouta sighs mentally at him, “Please wait until you’re not in my head to plot your chaos.”
Izuku giggles. “You just want plausible deniability,” he accuses his teacher and he gets the distinct impression of a snarkily raised eyebrow.
“No comment.”
Hero Law & Ethics finishes, and it was as interesting as always, even with Mr Shouta’s flat tone narrating - Izuku actually finds it very useful for remembering individual provisions when he recalls his teacher’s voice, which is very helpful for tests. Mr Shouta snorts again, and then they’re off to teach the 3B students much more advanced class. Izuku can still mostly keep up, much to his delight, even as he sees a few of his senpais get stumped by the tricky ethical dilemma Mr Shouta gave them. He gets a somewhat impressed and grudging, “Yes, I’d pass that answer, cheeky brat,” when Izuku takes advantage of a lull in students speaking to give his own contribution.
At lunchtime, Mr Shouta unceremoniously shoos Izuku back into his own body so he can eat, with a gentle reminder that if he still doesn’t feel up to attending class in person he can copilot again. Izuku giggles at the phrasing, and sends a small impression of warmth to his teacher before plopping back into his own body. Lunch with Ochako and Tenya is a nice distraction for a while, even as he jokingly dodges their questions about where he’s been. He does have to reassure them that no, he wasn’t expelled, and yes, he’s still in the hero course, which was kind of amusing. Mr Aizawa really had put the fear of himself into his students, huh. Expelling Mineta the week prior had certainly showed his lack of hesitation to do so.
If only they knew what a softie their teacher was under his gruff exterior.
Not that Izuku will ever tell his friends - he thinks it’s far funnier to see them crap themselves in fear whenever Mr Aizawa looks slightly grumpier - i.e. more tired - than usual and be on their best behaviour.
After lunch, Izuku heads back to the infirmary. While he is feeling somewhat better than this morning, he still has an itch under his skin that he knows will become a full blown panic attack if he pushes himself too far. And Izuku doesn’t want to go to the sports festival tomorrow with stress scratches up and down his arms that won’t be hidden by the gym uniform. Besides, the next class and last one of the day, taking up two periods, is Foundational Heroics, so Mr Aizawa and by extension Izuku will be in their normal places.
Er, sort of, at least.
Mr Aizawa had not been subtle in his shadowing of All Might’s teaching, but no one in the class had been foolish enough to comment on it - or at least, not anywhere he could hear them. So basically, Izuku gets to tag along to his usual class and gets the added bonus of hearing Mr Aizawa’s snarky comments on All Might’s lesson plans.
At least there hadn’t been any more broken bones, by Izuku or otherwise. He thinks Mr Aizawa may just have made good on his grievous bodily harm threat if another student had gotten that badly injured again.
“Oh, I would have,” Mr Shouta agrees and Izuku mentally squeaks in surprise - he’s still not super great at filtering his thoughts. His teacher however has taken to it like a duck in water. “Years of tuning out Hizashi,” Mr Shouta says smugly. “And also I’m an adult, with an adult’s years of experience.”
That does make sense, Izuku thinks idly as he watches Ochako try and max out her gravity quirk. So far she can only lift two tonnes without getting nauseous, but with practice Izuku is sure his best friend can improve! She’s so much stronger than the start of term already!
“Adorable,” Mr Shouta comments snidely, and Izuku squeaks again in embarrassment.
Izuku’s friends seem perplexed by his disappearance again, but an ominously raised eyebrow from Mr Shouta keeps them quiet and focused on their lesson.
It’s an hour into the class when Izuku starts to notice it. It sneaks up slowly, but as Eijirou steps up to try and max out how long he can hold his hardening, Izuku realises that Mr Shouta is in pain.
A lot of it.
Mostly in his arms - still in casts, but also his right cheek which took the brunt of the blows at the USJ. Izuku can’t feel the pain per se, but he’s aware of it.
He’s also aware of the guilt swelling up in himself because Mr Shouta is still hurt so badly, but he’s pretending so hard for Class 1-A’s sake - and Izuku is distinctly aware that even he had been fooled by his stoic teacher. If he was in his body, Izuku would be nauseous right now.
“I’m alright, Midoriya,” Mr Shouta tells him as Izuku shrinks his awareness back to himself as much as possible. And also - his teacher is very much not alright. Without a moment of hesitation, he slips back to his own body, catching only a concerned “Kid!” as he goes.
Back in the infirmary Izuku snaps bolt upright in his own body, and feels only a little bad about making Recovery Girl jump in surprise. “Ms Shuzenji,” Izuku says firmly. “Mr Aizawa is in pain and not taking medication for it.”
Ms Shuzenji sighs tiredly. “Of course he is. You young ones...” she trails off, and he tries not to laugh at his homeroom teacher being included as a ‘young one’ because he’s literally twice Izuku’s age. She shakes her head and snatches a box from a shelf behind her, before pushing it into Izuku’s hands. “Tell him to take two tablets with water immediately, and tell him that’s a threat.”
Izuku gulps, nods, and flees the infirmary immediately. He knows better than to argue with a nurse, especially one that’s not afraid of inflicting violence with her cane.
When he makes his way onto the training field, Mr Aizawa looks directly at him and then rolls his eyes to the heavens - or, Izuku assumes that’s what he did, because it’s a little hard to tell with all the bandages. But, he listens patiently as Izuku stutters out Recovery Girl’s instructions and takes the medicine without a fight.
Izuku may also have been utilising his best puppy dog eyes, but that’s irrelevant.
He beams up at his teacher before plopping himself down beside where Mr Aizawa is standing, and leans back against a wall. In moments, Izuku is back with his teacher, safe in his mind and hearing a reluctantly fond, “Brat,” being sent his way.
Izuku settles in to watch the rest of the lesson - Mr Shouta’s height gives him a much better view of his classmates. That particular thought gets a mental snort of laughter from his teacher. “You’ll get taller,” Mr Shouta thinks at him, “Probably.”
Izuku sends back the impression of a kitten turning its nose up and his teacher has to make a proper effort to not crack a grin. He can tell because he can feel the man’s lips twitching - and once again remembers how fucking weird his quirk is.
But the thought of growing taller draws Izuku’s mind to his age and then... Ms Ishii is nice, but... she’s distant. Izuku likes her well enough, but the next three years of his life loom ahead of him with only her as company outside of school and fill him with dread. He’s not sure she’d even notice or care if Izuku ever gets substantially taller...
Izuku shakes off his gloomy thoughts, refocuses on the lesson and idly makes mental notes of ways his friends and classmates could be utilising their quirks better. He knows that’s a bit rich coming from him seeing as One For All is still so volatile, but he reminds himself that he has a decade less of experience without even needing a prompt from Mr Shouta. Izuku also notices Mr Shouta listening with half a mental ear to his analyses and consciously makes his thoughts a little louder, despite his embarrassment. But just like last time, his teacher seems impressed with his thoughts - ha - and offers the occasional critique or comment of his own.
It’s in that way, when class has just finished and Mr Shouta dismisses everyone early without homeroom that Izuku is lulled into a false sense of security. “Stick around, Problem Child,” Mr Shouta says and Izuku hesitates.
“Mentally or physically?”
Mr Shouta thinks for a moment. “Either is fine. I just want to talk.”
For once that sentence doesn’t fill Izuku with fear - he can sense Mr Shouta’s honesty, but more importantly, he knows he can trust his teacher. “I’ll...stay,” Izuku decides, “if that’s alright?”
A soft huff, and the feeling of a chin tucking into a capture weapon is conveyed to Izuku and he snorts mentally. Right. Either is fine.
Mr Shouta strolls back to where Izuku’s body is still slumped against the wall - and wow is that weird to see - and sits a little way away, closing his own eyes in the afternoon light as he sunsoaks like a cat. “You were feeling guilty earlier,” Mr Shouta says, going straight for Izuku’s metaphorical throat. “Do you want to talk about why?”
Izuku curls in on himself in Mr Shouta’s head. If he could wring his hands right now, he would be. “It’s dumb,” he confesses, even as that same guilt gnaws at him again. “It’s just...”
Mr Shouta is once again endlessly patient with Izuku and doesn’t rush him. He’s sickly grateful for the courtesy, and tries to organise how he’s feeling.
Eventually, he sighs and admits, “I just wish I could’ve done more.”
Mr Shouta hums quietly, and it’s a gentle, soothing sound. Izuku focuses on the soft vibrations it makes in his teacher’s chest, and tries to ground his anxieties.
“You did more than enough by staying alive,” Mr Shouta thinks, and there’s such an iron conviction in his mind that Izuku can’t help but believe him. Still...
“You did enough,” Mr Shouta repeats. “You’re fifteen, and had only had a few days of classes. You were in no way prepared for a villain attack, let alone one so - horrific.”
But Izuku has been thinking and stressing and dwelling for weeks and says, “But maybe if I’d just made a link with my Mum or someone else then I could’ve gone for help sooner!”
Mr Shouta’s heart clenches. “Kid, no,” he says softly. “That’s not your responsibility. And given everything, I can only think a link with your mother would have been terrible for your mental health. Especially because we don’t know if you can sever links yet.”
Izuku subsides a little, and with great reluctance. That’s true but -
“But nothing.” Mr Shouta says sternly. “And regarding links with someone else, don’t feel like you have to. It’s something that you should only do with someone you trust.”
He doesn’t explicitly state that Izuku has trust issues, but he can sense it anyway. He’s not insulted, he knows it’s true especially considering middle school when - Izuku clamps down on his thoughts in an instant. There are some things he never wants to think about.
Mr Shouta sends a wave of calm to Izuku, along with a gentle press of concern, but it’s an offer, not an order.
Izuku sighs mentally. He’s not sure if he feels better after talking about this. Mr Shouta snorts rudely. “Healing isn’t instant. It’s a process, and will take time. But this is a good start.”
Izuku sends back a vague feeling of disgruntlement.
“Problem Child,” Mr Shouta says, “Would you feel less anxious if you had a connection with someone else? Just in case.”
Izuku thinks for a moment before hesitantly agreeing. But with who?
“All Might?” Mr Shouta suggests. “He’s fond of you, and is your mentor.” The way he thinks ‘mentor’ is only a little condescending for once. But Izuku shakes his figurative head. All Might is - is someone very important to Izuku but - he doesn’t even know his name. And - and there’s still the hero worship battling with that crushing rooftop talk and basically, it’s complicated. So Izuku doesn’t think a mental connection would be a good idea right now.
“That’s alright,” Mr Shouta says, and Izuku winces as he realises he projected his inner ramblings. But once again, Mr Shouta just leaves his questions, doesn’t press, and is quiet.
But then Izuku thinks - there’s one person...
“Hmm,” Mr Shouta muses, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Are you alright with sharing your reasoning? I can discuss it with him tonight.”
While Izuku doesn’t quite trust him himself, Mr Shouta does. And Izuku trusts Mr Shouta not only with his life, but his thoughts. And so far, the other man had been nothing but kind and gentle, hadn’t so much as come within a metre of Izuku and respected his physical boundaries so... So Izuku thinks he can be assured that the man won’t invade his personal boundaries.
“He won’t,” Mr Shouta reassures Izuku. “And if he does, it won’t be deliberate or malicious.”
So Izuku quietly agrees that Mr Shouta can ask Mr Yamada on his behalf if the blonde hero would be willing to occasionally have a teen pop into his head. Then, with a sigh of regret, Mr Shouta clambers to his feet, and lightly, teasingly, nudges Izuku back into his own body. With a groan he stands up himself, and shakes off the slight vertigo from the height difference.
“And Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa says as they exit the training ground at last, “You’ll do fine tomorrow.” And then he slumps off towards the teacher’s lounge as Izuku bursts into some well-deserved tears. (He does give Izuku a soft pat on the shoulder as he goes, though.)
Izuku absently makes his way back to the Ward Building, a small warmth burning in his stomach. For once, it’s not a sickly feeling, but - one that’s happy.
He eats dinner with Ms Ishii, and goes to bed promptly. Izuku forgoes his usual ritual of scratching his thighs until they bleed, the red a gentle reassurance that he’s alive but tonight - there’s no buzzing under his skin, no ache pulling his arms to his legs. And for the first time since the USJ, Izuku sleeps the whole night through.
Izuku stares across the ring at the tired-looking purple haired boy and holds in a frown. He’s very disappointed in Mashirao for sabotaging his opponent by giving away his quirk but the damage has been done. So Izuku won’t respond, even though by all rights Shinsou should have won easily with his quirk.
He won’t, however, do Shinsou the dishonour of forfeiting. The other boy wants into the hero course? Then he can fight Izuku for all he’s worth.
Ms Kayama calls for the match to start and Izuku clamps his lips shut as he steps forward and into a defensive position. Shinsou starts off easily with a few taunts about Mashirao, but as Izuku is also currently upset with his classmate, he shrugs them off. Shinsou growls in frustration and moves closer, arms up in a sloppy offensive position.
And then Shinsou says that Izuku can never understand where he’s coming from, because he has a ‘perfect combat quirk’ and - he can’t help himself.
Izuku laughs, a little hysterical and a lot bitter, but it’s enough.
Shinsou snags control of his body and Izuku is still laughing in his head. He tries to step forward but - his body is no longer his own and refuses the command. Izuku can totally understand why most people would find this disconcerting but he’s used to hitching a ride with Mr Shouta and having no bodily autonomy.
So, with a mental shrug, Izuku slips through his mental door and into Mr Shouta’s mind with a peppy “Hi Mr Shouta!” that gets him a lovely groan of resignation.
“Are you forfeiting?”
“Nope,” Izuku says cheerfully, “I’m just waiting for something!” He outlines it quickly - he only has a minute before he loses automatically by immobilisation, and Mr Shouta sighs again.
“What’s in it for me?”
Izuku sends him the memory of a coupon he won from a raffle at the local cat cafe.
“Acceptable,” Mr Shouta says. He turns to Mr Yamada who has just raised his microphone, presumably to call the match and informs him of the situation. Because Izuku technically hasn’t left the ring, and is also technically not immobilised at the same time. It’s a fun little loophole!
With a cackle of laughter, Mr Yamada says to the whole stadium, “And here’s a surprise for all of you! Despite all appearances, Izuku Midoriya is not immobilised! The match continues!”
And then Izuku is slipping back to his own body just after his head slams into the ground - still inside the ring- and jerks free of Shinsou’s quirk with the impact. Interesting - it seems that even with Izuku’s body under the quirk, without a specific instruction to maintain the basics, such as balance, brainwashing isn’t infallible if Shinsou isn’t specific.
And without Izuku there to drive, his body had naturally succumbed to gravity. Ms Shuzenji will be displeased at what’s almost certainly another concussion, though.
With a deadly smirk, Izuku lunges to his feet and rushes forward and in an instant, the other boy is on the defensive, swinging wildly at his face. Unfortunately for Shinsou, it’s clear he focused on his quirk over his body, and Izuku takes no time at all in flipping him over the boundary line.
Ms Kayama calls the match in Izuku’s favour, and he offers a hand to Shinsou to help him up. The other boy glares, but with a wary flick of his eyes at the cameras, accepts grudgingly. “How the hell did you move your body?” Shinsou snaps and Izuku grins cheerfully.
“I didn’t!” He chirps. “I just waited for gravity to do the trick.”
Shinsou scowls as they’re both shooed off to the infirmary by Ms Kayama. “That’s never happened before,” he mumbles and Izuku nods happily.
“I’m not surprised! I used my quirk to uh, leave my body for a little bit, which was a bit risky actually because I had no idea it would work! But I theorised that while your brainwashing quirk can control simple actions, it’s most likely the person themselves that’s still in control of basic self-preservation things like breathing and balance! So I just removed that from the equation and voila!”
Shinsou stops in the hallway. Izuku pauses as well and looks at his opponent with a small frown. “What?”
“You have a strength enhancement quirk,” Shinsou says slowly.
Ah.
Oops.
Izuku had been so excited that his theory was correct that he completely forgot that no one actually knows about Mind Transfer except for the UA Staff. He hasn’t even told Ochako and Tenya yet! His friends thankfully hadn’t pushed about the incident on the first day of school, or even about why Kacchan had attacked him. It was a basic courtesy, but Izuku was grateful for their lack of prying nonetheless.
Ah well, it’s already out now. Izuku shrugs more casually than he feels and says, “I do. But.. it also has a mental aspect.” He reminds himself to make Mr Aizawa some cookies because he already has a pretty good cover story in place for just this scenario. “It’s more of a stockpiling quirk. I can create mental bonds with a person and then store some of their energy in my body for use as a strength enhancement later,” Izuku explains quickly. “It’s a bit tricky, but super useful! If I need more energy, I just pop into their mind!”
Shinsou blinks. “Huh,” he mutters. Then he ducks his head. “Sorry for what I said during the match. That - that can’t have been an easy quirk to grow up with.”
It’s Izuku’s turn to be confused. “Huh?”
Shinsou frowns and then gently shoulder checks Izuku to get him moving as he starts towards the infirmary again. “You have a quirk that invades people’s minds and takes their energy,” he comments dryly. “I can’t imagine people liked that.”
Wow, that’s a sobering thought. Izuku is horrified by this made-up quirk he has. So horrified, in fact, that he stumbles, and it’s only Shinsou’s quick reflexes that keep Izuku from eating pavement. “You’re right,” Izuku mutters. “People didn’t like me growing up.” Not for the reasons Shinsou thought, but close enough. Villain quirks were only a step above being quirkless, after all.
And with that, both boys reach the infirmary, to the sound of Ms Shuzenji’s scolding. Izuku is used to it at this point, and takes it in stride as he laughs at Shinsou’s bafflement at the grouchy yet kind heroine.
It’s a good day.
Izuku’s next round is against Ochako.
She’d knocked out Hanta in a well-fought strategic match, which made him nearly burst with pride for his friend. Hanta had attempted to wrap Ochako in his tape right off the bat, but with a simple press of her fingers the tape was out of his control. From there it was a matter of his friend dodging panicked tape attacks until she could float him as well. As soon as Hanta was in the air, it was over for him, with Ochako grabbing a strand of his tape and using it to sling him out of the ring.
Izuku is very proud of Ochako.
And now he gets to fight her as well! It won’t be an easy match, Izuku knows. Despite her easy win over Hanta, the crowd is still on Izuku’s side, but he thinks they’re fools for underestimating Ochako just because she’s a girl.
Izuku won’t make that mistake.
His comments to Mr Aizawa had been accurate - Ochako has been working super hard all term to improve her control over gravity, whereas Izuku has been struggling to even use One For All. And of course, in this type of fight, Mind Transfer is inapplicable unless he wants to kiss Ochako in front of everyone and their mothers.
Izuku delicately moves past that thought because Ochako is very pretty and nice and while he wouldn’t mind kissing her at some point, right now isn’t the time.
Standing across the field from his best friend, Izuku can’t help but bounce excitedly. This may be a serious opportunity for them all to pique the interest of mentors, but that doesn’t mean it can’t also be fun. Not that he’ll ever let Mr Aizawa know anything of the sort.
Ma Kayama drops her flag and tells, “Begin!” but neither Izuku nor Ochako move. They eye each other warily, and Izuku broadens his grin. With both of them using strategy to their advantage, this fight may take longer to start but when it does, it’ll be brutal.
It’s Izuku that finally makes the first move, shifting into a defensive position as he steps closer to the centre of the ring. He refuses to underestimate his best friend - Ochako has shown she’s not afraid to fight dirty and Izuku may be up for the challenge, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be on the receiving end of whatever tricks she has up her sleeve. He knows his friend is the middle child of five girls. If anyone can brawl, it’s Ochako.
In his brief moment of distraction, Ochako starts sprinting and Izuku drags his attention back to the fight in an instant, and charges forward. Going hand to hand with Ochako is risky, given her quirk, but if he can take her down quickly, that’s for the best. In a drawn out fight, Ochako with her quirk has the advantage, simply due to her years of practice and stamina.
By the end of the fight, Izuku’s body is littered with bruises from the rubble Ochako had dumped on him, but he’d managed to win.
Barely.
And it wasn’t easy either, as Izuku had taken advantage of her weakness, by tricking her into activating her quirk on herself. It had required a lot of dodging, and a brief flare of One For All up to 5% that had nearly drained him. But in the air, with what would’ve become a meteor shower hovering around Ochako, she’d succumbed to exhaustion and yielded even as she pressed her fingers together to release her quirk.
Izuku of course, is a gentleman, and catches her bridal style as she drops out of the air, to the enthusiastic roar of the crowd. Ochako blushes a furious red, and he knows his own freckled cheeks are equally bright as Mr Yamada coos over the microphone about the ‘cute first year enemy to lovers speed run’ only to get - from the sound of it - smacked by Mr Aizawa. Izuku makes a mental note to thank him later, as he carries Ochako off the field and to the infirmary.
As expected, Recovery Girl tuts at both of them as they - well, Izuku - stumble sheepishly into the infirmary. “Sit!” She snaps without heat and Izuku gently puts Ochako on a bed before sitting beside her. And then of course, he can’t help but shower his friend with compliments, and a shy admittance that if his last ditch plan hadn’t worked, she would’ve won. At that, Ochako looks immensely pleased, a grin huge on her face as she lightly punches Izuku’s shoulder.
She does get a light scolding from Recovery Girl for all the bruises on Izuku, but he gets told off for making Ochako nearly pass out from quirk exhaustion so it all evens out. Both of them leave in stifled silence before bursting out into laughter as soon as the door closes behind them.
The next few rounds go quickly, and Tenya redeems his first one on one performance by swiftly defeating Shiozaki and running her out of the ring almost instantly. Izuku watches with narrowed eyes, frowning thoughtfully. If Tenya tries to do the same to him... It’s one hell of a move, ending a fight before it’s begun, but that’s a disadvantage for Izuku.
He’s definitely going to have to use One For All to stay in the fight with Tenya.
Izuku grits his teeth and steels himself. He’s been training with All Might and Mr Aizawa enough that he can use One For All without shattering his bones, but only at 3%. And he can’t keep a hold on it for longer than ten minutes at a time, or he exhausts himself.
It’ll be fine.
And Izuku refuses to let his mentors down. He’s not going to win for himself, he’s going to win to prove to Mr Aizawa and All Might that he’s worth their time.
He ignores the part of his brain that says he doesn’t need to prove anything to them.
Izuku is so hyped up by the time he makes it down to the ring that Ochako has to walk down with him so he doesn’t get distracted and walk into a wall... again.
So Izuku’s a little excited. He gets to fight his two best friends today!
He’s already fought Ochako, and now it’s Tenya’s turn!
Across the ring, Tenya nods sharply at Izuku, and he can’t help but wave back enthusiastically. He’s ready and raring!
Tenya may have speed on his side, but that just means he tends to rush into things. That’s good for Izuku, because it means his friend is less likely to have a solid strategy. While improvisation certainly has its place, right now Izuku is going to use that thoughtlessness against Tenya.
Hopefully it won’t be too embarrassing for either of them.
Unfortunately for Tenya, the way Izuku wins is nothing short of humiliating.
Using One For All to boost his speed Izuku had led his friend on a merry chase around the ring until he feigned exhaustion right at the edge. An easy target to get pushed out.
Tenya takes the bait.
And Izuku steps aside, barely needing to use his quirk, and Tenya in his eagerness, is out of the ring before he realises.
There’s a loud, shocked silence before the crowd roars and Ms Kayama calls the match for Izuku. With a sigh of relief, he drops his hold of One For All, sweat pouring down his face.
Tenya’s cheeks are burning as Izuku offers him his hand - his dark haired friend had tripped in his surprise and ended up covered in dirt. But he does take the assistance and Mr Yamada says something about good sportsmanship which is less embarrassing than last time so he lets it slide.
That’s the man he’s asking to mind meld with, huh?
Oof, Izuku isn’t sure he wants him to say yes now. That’s a lie he really does want him to.
Due to the nature of the fight, neither Izuku nor Tenya have to go see Recovery Girl, which is a relief. They slump back into their seats beside Ochako just in time to see Todoroki forcing Tokoyami out of the ring with a massive shelf of ice. It’s... intimidating. Ochako pats Izuku sympathetically on the shoulder when she sees the look on his face. “You’ll be fine, Izu-kun!” She cheers, pumping her fist. “You’re fighting for both Tenya and I now!”
Izuku gulps and nods. Mr Yamada announces a half hour break before the final match, so that both he and Todoroki will have time to prepare properly.
Izuku stands suddenly. “I’m going to the prep room now,” he mumbles to his friends. “I.. think I need some quiet.”
Ochako nods understandingly, and Tenya begins to say something before being cut off by his phone ringing. He frowns slightly, but pats Izuku on the shoulder as he answers, rushing up the stairs. Izuku and Ochako watch in baffled silence before giggling again.
With a final wave to Ochako as she wishes him luck, Izuku makes his way to the blessed quiet of the prep room. Once he’s there, he slides to the ground against the wall, ignoring the soft chairs available. Now is no time to relax.
He’s up against Todoroki now, the other quiet boy that haunts 1-A with eyes too similar to Izuku’s for comfort. Not in colour, no, but in what they’ve seen...
The challenge issued to Izuku that morning had been unexpected, to say the least. He was frankly surprised that Todoroki even knew his name, given his cool attitude towards everyone. But Ochako had mentioned how on the first day of school it was him that remained calm when Izuku was hurt, and sent for help as he shifted tables and chairs to make space.
Todoroki is a walking contradiction, and Izuku, well. He likes puzzles, and his classmate is one hell of a knot to unravel.
His talk earlier of quirk marriages and what his mother had done to him had been horrifying for Izuku to hear. To think that the quiet boy in his class had lived that makes him nauseous.
That said, Izuku doesn’t quite understand why Todoroki had dumped that information on him. Maybe it’s a way of asking for help? If so, there’s not much he can do... Todoroki would be much better off talking to Mr Aizawa. After all, he’d helped Izuku get away from his own mother so surely he could do something at least for Todoroki. Izuku will have to let him know that telling Mr Aizawa is a good idea.
For now though...
Izuku walks down to the ground once the bell rings, passing Endeavor as he goes. He shudders, and coldly ignores the Number 2 hero calling after him. He’s not worth Izuku’s attention.
Rather, Izuku once again focuses on his opponent across the ring. The sun beats down on his face, and he can feel the sweat already beading on his forehead. His skin is tacky under his gym uniform, and Izuku prays that none of his wounds open.
Ms Kayama calls the match, and before Izuku can think, he’s enveloped in a huge shelf of ice from the waist down.
Ms Kayama goes to ask if he’s immobilised but Izuku just smirks, pulls One For All to the forefront and flicks.
The ice encasing Izuku shatters, scattering in a twenty metre radius around him with the force of the air behind the blow. Even at 3%, Izuku’s quirk is stupidly powerful.
Todoroki stares across at Izuku, and he can’t help but raise his eyebrow in a cocky challenge. “Is that all you’ve got, Todoroki?” Izuku calls tauntingly, and the other boy’s fists clench. Before he can even start to shift into his predictable right foot forward move, Izuku is bounding forward, deliberately coming in from the left. A wave of ice arcs behind Izuku, fractionally too slow to trap him again.
“You’re shaking,” Izuku notes as he gets closer and closer. “Why are you holding back?”
“You know why!” Todoroki snarls back, mouth twisting and Izuku knows he has him.
“My quirk scares the hell out of me too!” Izuku retorts, frustration roaring through his veins. “But you don’t see me giving up on it! It’s hurting me more right now than you are!”
Todoroki actually growls, sending another sheet of ice towards Izuku. A few more moments and he’ll be within striking distance! He easily dodges the ice - it’s manifestation speed has drastically slowed the colder his classmate gets. Izuku is counting on that. Just like Tenya, Todoroki tries to finish fights in one big first move and drawn out battles are not his strength.
“It’s your power, Shouto Todoroki! Stop wasting your potential!” Izuku hisses, even as he’s finally close enough to throw a non-quirked punch into Todoroki’s stomach. His classmate wheezes, half bent over with the force - even without One For All, Izuku is strong. “I can’t strike you with my full power because I don’t want to kill you. But you’re not that strong, so stop holding back on me!”
Finally, finally, Todoroki looks up at Izuku and sees him. “Fine,” the dual haired boy snaps. “Remember you asked for this.”
Izuku beams, even as the field implodes.
“You are such a problem child,” Mr Shouta says sternly as Izuku slinks sheepishly into his head. No way is he being unconscious for the next little while... well. His body might be but Izuku still wants to watch!
“Sorry,” Izuku thinks with a small twinge of embarrassment. Without the adrenaline of the fight rushing through him, he can acknowledge that he maybe took things a little too far.
“Oh good,” Mr Shouta snarks, “you have some self-awareness.”
Izuku very maturely sends back an impression of someone beating a dead horse, and is rewarded with a grumbled “Damn Problem Child.” He thinks it might be becoming Mr Shouta’s new catchphrase at this point. Oops?
Mr Shouta shushes him as Mezou, Tsu, Tooru and Kendo begin what will surely be an invigorating round of Four Square... with quirks permitted, of course. Each of them had won their qualifiers against other students, prior to the one v one matches. This fight was the Games Grand Final!
Izuku thinks it’s a clever way of letting more students show off their quirks to potential mentors without distracting from the competition proper.
He gets a faint sense of agreement from Mr Shouta, even as Kendo aggressively serves straight into Tooru’s box. Tooru is a tricky player, taking advantage of her arms being invisible to direct shots in ways the others literally can’t see coming. The invisible girl bounces the ball straight back at Kendo, who rallies well to slam it into Tsu’s box, who sends it straight at Mezou. With six arms, he’s also a formidable opponent with a multitude of options for every shot.
Or at least, he should be, Izuku notes with disappointment, as Mezou continues to use only his ‘main’ two arms. Unless he’s trying to lull the others into a false sense of security, Mezou is majorly underutilising his quirk and the scoreboard is showing that. Tsu, on the other hand, is using her agility to her best ability, frequently leaping mid air to change her trajectory unexpectedly. Izuku is also very amused when she spits on the ball before sending it at Tooru who shrieks in disgust and loses a point as she drops it back in her own box.
But by far the best competitor is Kendo with her two huge fists. Izuku thinks she could win through the sheer power of her enlarged fists alone, but the 1-B Class President is also clever and strategic in her shots. She never misses where she’s aiming, and Izuku desperately wants to ask her about her quirk.
“Nice analysis,” Mr Shouta thinks dryly. “Keep it up and you can steal Hizashi’s job.”
Izuku curls himself up in embarrassment. “No way!” He protests. “Mr Yamada is way better!”
Mr Shouta sends him an impression of a single raised eyebrow and Izuku clamps down on the urge to ramble about Present Mic. He’s not going to fanboy over the man to his husband.
“Save it for when you link,” Mr Shouta thinks, with a wicked edge to his thoughts. “And make sure I’m there to take a photo of his bright red face.”
That just confirms it, Izuku thinks as Kendo racks up her twentieth point and wins the Four Square Final to raucous cheering from the crowd, Mr Shouta is evil.
Ten minutes later, Izuku is back in his own body and shaking like a leaf in front of the crowd as he stands in second place on the podium. Todoroki is in first, and Tokoyami is third; he’s meant to be sharing with Tenya, but Izuku’s friend had never returned after his phone call according to Ochako. He has a bad feeling about that, but aside from texting a gentle prodding message to the other boy, there’s not much he can do.
All Might bounds into the field to the largest cheer of the day from the crowd and hastily gives out all the medals. Izuku thinks he might be running low on time again, with the way he’s rushing. But he still gets a gentle hug, and a pat on the head with the kind words, “I knew you could do it,” and feels all fuzzy inside.
And then the day is over, and Izuku is saved from having to brave public transport by the fact that he now lives on campus. It’s as he’s about to leave for the dorm, that Mr Aizawa and Mr Yamada fall into step with him. It’s a bit of a surprise, and Izuku mumbles out as much before clamping his mouth shut. He’s just been so rude!
“You’re fine, kiddo,” Mr Yamada says cheerfully, waving away Izuku’s impoliteness. “Sho and I just have something to talk to you about.”
Huh. Izuku eyes them both somewhat warily before shrugging. If it was something bad, surely Mr Aizawa wouldn’t be letting Mr Yamada rope Izuku into a bizarre game of I Spy.
When they get back to the Ward Building, it’s as quiet and lonely as ever. It’s only just 4PM, so Ms Ishii won’t be back for another two hours, which Izuku feels a guilty relief at. He offers hot drinks to his teachers - not expired this time! - and then they all settle around the kitchen table.
Izuku warms his hands on his mug of hot chocolate as Mr Yamada and Mr Aizawa make silent conversation with their eyebrows across the table. Eventually, Mr Aizawa sighs. Izuku is just quietly delighted that he can see his teacher’s face again - he must’ve visited Recovery Girl during the Medal Ceremony to get another healing session. Ms Shuzenji may be old, but she’s still efficient. Izuku deliberately avoids looking at the scar sitting just under Mr Aizawa’s right eye though.
“You’re not happy in the dorm,” Mr Aizawa says bluntly, and Izuku stiffens immediately.
“W-what?” Izuku protests, voice sounding weak even to his own ears. “It’s - it’s very nice here! Way better than home!”
Mr Yamada gives Izuku a gentle look. “That’s a very low bar you’re setting,” he says firmly but not unkindly and Izuku has to blink back tears. “You should be happy, not just settling.”
How did Mr Aizawa even figure out how Izuku was feeling - ah. Right, his damn quirk again. Izuku drops his head and doesn’t meet either of his teacher’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and to his humiliation he can feel tears running down his cheeks. “I - I don’t know why I’m so difficult.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath, Izuku’s not sure from who, and then a hand ever so gently rests on his left shoulder. “You’re not difficult,” Mr Aizawa says, an odd tone in his voice. “You’re just a kid.”
Shouta watches his student cry silently, so different from his usual energetic tears and feels helpless. He gives Hizashi a look and knows that they’ve made the right decision. He gently shoves a small pack of tissues under Midoriya’s nose with his free hand, the other still a grounding weight on the teen’s shoulder. It takes a good few minutes before Midoriya manages to collect himself, and Shouta is alerted to him regaining his thoughts by the pink shame colouring his cheeks.
“Are you up to having this talk now?” Shouta asks quietly. “It’s been a long day, so it’s fine if you’re not.”
Midoriya just shakes his head. “I’m - I’m okay,” he hiccups, and Shouta would believe him more if he wasn’t still silently crying. But he gives his student the dignity of taking him at his word.
“Alright. Hizashi and I wanted to talk to you about your living situation,” Shouta explains softly. He’s always careful to be soft with this kid. “You’re a Ward of UA and so you can either live here in the Ward Building, or... with a designated guardian.”
Midoriya blinks, clearly confused. Shouta silently curses his own inability to directly confront emotional topics. Thankfully, Hizashi takes over. “What Shouta is trying to say, is that if you’d prefer, you could come and live with us, instead of in the dorm.”
Midoriya very obviously short circuits at that offer. Shouta doesn’t blame the kid - it’s a pretty big thing, to have not one but two teachers offer to become, essentially, parents instead of just educators.
“I don’t understand,” Midoriya says eventually.
Shouta tilts his head. “Would this be easier if we linked?”
In an instant, Midoriya is sliding himself down to the floor and leaning up against the cupboards so he can safely shift to Shouta’s body. A now familiar presence slips into his head, and Shouta sends a gentle wave of greeting and reassurance to the kid.
“I still don’t understand,” Midoriya whispers, and in his thoughts he can’t conceal his shame from Shouta. It’s nearly enough to break his heart.
“You’re a good kid, Midoriya,” Shouta settles on thinking, making sure to not smother the fondness out of his voice for once. “And... I’m worried about you. I don’t think the dorm is the best option for you.”
From the mess of emotions Shouta can sense, he can tell Midoriya is even more confused now. “Kid,” he thinks as gently as he can, making sure to project safety and warm, “You let a couple of things slip accidentally yesterday. Like how lonely you are here... and that you’ve self harmed.”
The way Midoriya twists in on himself is nearly enough to give Shouta a headache. “It’s alright,” he soothes, “I don’t think any less of you. But this environment isn’t ideal for healing. And... Hizashi and I, we think it would be best if you come and stay with us. You don’t have to say yes,” he tacks on suddenly. “But please keep in mind that this isn’t just a pity offer. We were planning on offering anyway, even before yesterday.”
With that last comment, Shouta makes sure to send along his memory from four days earlier. In it, he and Hizashi are easily moving around each other in their kitchen when Shouta tentatively brings up taking guardianship of Midoriya. His blonde husband spins around delightedly, hair shimmering in an arc with the speed of his delight. “Aw, of course! He’s a great kid!” And Past Shouta’s stomach had filled with warm satisfaction and quiet pleasure at the thought of having a kid.
Midoriya takes in the memory, and finally, finally, uncurls from his little mental ball. “You mean it?”
“Of course,” Shouta says as serious as he’s ever been. “We both do.” If he and Hizashi have the power to help a child, of course they will do so.
Midoriya hesitates briefly then, and Shouta understands immediately. “That’s a good idea,” he says approvingly. “Especially if it will make you more comfortable.”
Midoriya is emanating determination as he slips out of Shouta’s mind. Even as the kid blinks himself back to awareness, he’s turning to look firmly at Hizashi. Shouta stamps down the urge to smirk at the nervous look on his husband’s face.
Luckily, Hizashi is a clever man and it only takes a second before he’s nodding in assent. “You want to link first?”
Midoriya nods. “Yes please,” he says. And then without any further hesitation, the kid snatches Hizashi’s hand and presses a kiss to it. Of course, Shouta has to catch the brat as his empty body topples sideways again, but it’s with a fond huff of exasperation.
It’s a little disconcerting at first, Shouta thinks, even as Hizashi sits stock still, eyes fixed on a cabinet door. Because Midoriya’s body is limp and empty, but Shouta has no passenger chatting away in his mind. He wonders absently if he looks as strange when he’s talking to Midoriya as Hizashi does right now.
But Shouta quickly dismisses that thought. He has an excellent poker face whereas poor Hizashi can’t even win a round of Go Fish to save his life.
The teen in his arms jerks suddenly, and Shouta immediately relaxes his grip on Midoriya. He doesn’t want to risk triggering a panic attack, especially not right now. At some point, when Midoriya is more stable, Shouta will bring up therapy. For now though, he’ll settle for getting the kid under his watchful eye.
“So,” Hizashi says cheerfully, “Let’s all go home, yeah?”
Midoriya grins shyly up at Shouta qnd he can’t help but twitch his lips into a tiny smile back down at the kid. “We’re all good?” He double checks and the teen nods firmly.
“Yes,” Midorya says. “Please take care of me!”
Izuku is quiet as he follows Mr Aizawa and Mr Yamada to their apartment. He’d quickly packed all of his belongings, it hadn’t taken more than ten minutes, while his teachers had updated Principal Nedzu to the change in circumstances. He also wrote a quick note to Ms Ishii to thank her for watching over him the last few weeks. Izuku may not have clicked with her, but he’s not going to be rude.
And then, in what seems like the blink of an eye, Izuku wakes to Mr Yamada quietly calling his name. Ah. He must’ve fallen asleep in the car, Izuku realises as he blushes. Mr Yamada smiles warmly at him, nearly as warmly as the summer sunshine that saturates his mind. “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”
Izuku nods shyly, and clambers ungracefully out of the car. His long day is definitely catching up to him. Mr Yamada is already holding his bag and pretends not to hear Izuku saying he can carry it, and he pouts a little when he realises this.
They’re in some sort of underground car park, so Izuku assumes they’re in an apartment building of some sort. Whether it’s a regular one or one of the ‘gated’ type hero buildings is still unclear. Although, Izuku thinks it’s probably the former, because he doubts Mr Aizawa would tolerate potentially interacting with other heroes on a daily basis.
“Correct,” Mr Aizawa says suddenly, and Izuku belatedly remembers that his already terrible filter goes out the window entirely when he’s exhausted. “This is a normal apartment building, but there’s a few other underground pros that live here.”
Izuku chews on that tidbit as they make their way to a lift that deposits them in a well-lit hallway. With the brightness and cleanliness, and a rich crimson carpet, it seems more like a fancy hotel than an apartment building. It’s a far cry from his old apartment, with peeling paint and flickering lights. There’s even a faint smell of cinnamon drifting through the air, and all in all, it feels homey.
And they’re not even in the apartment yet.
It’s a little overwhelming, but Izuku tamps down his anxiety. Once he’s in there, he can take a nap and everything will be alright.
At the end of the hall, there’s a door leading to what must be a corner apartment. With practiced ease, Mr Yamada taps in a code and the door clicks open. Izuku can’t help the way he instinctively tenses; this is it.
His new home.
Mr Aizawa lets Mr Yamada go in first, and gently puts his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. Normally, he hates adults touching him, but when it’s his homeroom teacher, it’s different. It doesn’t hurt, it soothes instead, is reassuring not suffocating, and Izuku knows he can always move away if he wants to. “It’ll be okay, Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa says kindly. Izuku has heard his teacher say that before, and he hasn’t been wrong yet.
He takes a deep breath and meets Mr Aizawa’s eyes levelly. They’re warm and dark, and gentle. Izuku can do this.
He takes another deep breath, and walks into the apartment. Into his new home.
The apartment itself is amazing, with a clear focus on practicality and comfort over aesthetics, which just makes it look lived in and well loved. From the entryway, the space is open plan, with the living room straight ahead, the kitchen directly to the right and then a small table with three chairs pressed up against a wall. There’s a small hallway with several doors on the other side of the space that presumably leads to the bedrooms.
Izuku valiantly does not laugh when he sees a Mr Aizawa shaped impression on a soft looking rug in the living area. It’s clearly a well-loved napping spot.
Mr Aizawa gently guides Izuku down the hallway, pointing out the bathroom, and into a bedroom on the left. “This is yours for however long you want it,” he says firmly. There’s no room for arguing, so Izuku nods quietly and takes it in. It’s a pretty standard guest room, Izuku thinks, with a plain but serviceable bed and bedside table, and pale grey walls.
It’s instantly superior to his old room at his mother’s, and even undecorated it’s more welcoming than the lavish Ward Building room. Mr Yamada has already put Izuku’s bag on the bed, beside what looks to be the fluffiest and greenest blanket he’s ever seen.
Oh.
The blanket is a gift, Izuku realises, and then promptly bursts into tears. Mr Aizawa sighs, but it doesn’t seem like an annoyed one, more fond than anything. “It’s still early, so if you want you can rest until dinner,” his teacher - no, his guardian says. Izuku nods weakly, eyes still fixed on the blanket. “Food will be at 7:30, so you’ve got just over two hours.”
And then Mr Aizawa is stepping back out of the - no, Izuku’s room and giving him space. He manages to get a hold of himself enough to close the door behind him, and stumbles forward to collapse onto the - his bed. It’s soft, and large, and even with his duffel still taking up a chunk of space, Izuku has more than enough room to sprawl if he wants to.
He doesn’t, instead opting to curl up and tuck his face against the blanket, but it’s nice to have the option.
Izuku falls asleep in an instant.
“He’s a good kid,” Hizashi comments idly, half bending over to drop a kiss on Shouta’s brow. He’s currently sitting at the kitchen table, trying to get ahead on some marking. He snorts.
“Good kid barely covers it,” Shouta returns and Hizashi grins. The teen had been asleep for nearly an hour and half now, so Shouta was going to get him up in a few minutes so he could wake up in time for dinner. Hizashi is cooking, which means western style pasta - a bolognese, Shouta thinks, but he does tend to get them confused. Especially carbonara and alfredo, they look identical to Shouta’s eyes, much to Hizashi’s horror.
Either way, the meal is simmering away in a pan, slow cooking in that way Hizashi loves and Shouta doesn’t have the patience for. With a gentle nudge, the blonde gets his attention again, and he jerks his head in the direction of what’s now Midoriya’s room. Right.
Shouta quickly moves his stacks of paper to a side table, and stands with a groan. He’ll definitely have to do some yoga tonight or he’ll be regretting it in the morning. At least he’s out of the casts now, even if his arms are still wrapped beneath his sleeves. It means he’s still a few weeks out from being able to patrol again, but with Midoriya moving in, it’s a good excuse to stay home and help the kid settle in.
He pads softly down the hall, and knocks on Midoriya’s door. It takes a minute but eventually the door cracks open and the teen peers out at him. “Dinner in twenty,” he tells the kid, who rubs at his eyes sleepily and makes a vague noise of assent. Shouta heads back down the hall, not expecting to see the kid until food is served.
Imagine his surprise when Midoriya follows him down the hallway like a duckling.
Wait.
With the green hair...
Shouta’s lips twitch ever so slightly as he settles back down at the table. So he has a cockatoo for a husband and a duck for a ward - for a kid. He waves a hand lazily at the opposite chair, and Midoriya sits quietly, still half-asleep. Shouta gives him a considering look, but leaves the silence as it is.
Midoriya has had a big day, and Shouta hates that he’s added to it, by moving the kid from the dorm. But... with what Shouta knew, with the kid hurting himself, it couldn’t wait.
That’s the first thing about being a hero. Prioritise the rescue.
And Midoriya is safe now, as safe as he can be, at least physically.
Mentally? Not so much. But time, patience and a stable home life will do wonders.
So will therapy, if Shouta can bring it up to the kid and not trigger a panic attack. The kid barely trusts him let alone a complete stranger - so sitting alone in a room with an unfamiliar person is probably not an option for a while. Shouta’s still surprised that Midoriya had elected to link with Hizashi, even without trusting him. In fact, he’d apparently done so because Shouta trusted the blonde, and Midoriya trusted Shouta. And while Midoriya has relaxed substantially around Hizashi now, there’s still a hesitant distance.
Time will bridge that, Shouta knows, so he isn’t worried. For now, he watches as Midoriya slowly wakes up from his disorientation, and a small huff of laughter escapes him when the kid finally notices that he’s sitting at the kitchen table with a cat literally sitting on his head. “That’s Creep,” Shouta tells Midoriya helpfully. “She likes to sit on people’s heads.”
Midoriya’s lips twitch into a smile, and something deep in Shouta finally relaxes at the sight.
After dinner, Shouta shoos Hizashi and Midoriya to sit on the couch and watch TV while he does the dishes. It’s a sickeningly domestic scene, but it creates such a warmth in Shouta’s stomach that his lips keep twitching upwards in a smile. And he knows Hizashi has caught him absently raising a hand to his lips in bemusement in several times.
It’s not like Shouta is used to being this happy normally. He’s a very laidback person, and usually careful at concealing his emotions. In fact, the last time Shouta was this lax about emotional regulation was... probably when he and Hizashi got married a few years previously. Huh, no wonder his blonde husband keeps looking over and smirking at him.
And then, what should be a normal night, with only slight awkwardness due only to the situation, shatters. Hizashi and Midoriya had settled on watching the nightly news, which should have been a safe, if somewhat boring choice.
And for twenty minutes it is.
Until the TV Anchor frowns and says flatly, “Breaking News. Five Quirkless teenagers from regions across Japan have committed mass suicide.” She starts reading out names, but Shouta doesn’t hear much more than that, frankly, because even as Hizashi quickly turns the TV off, Midorya is a twisting and writhing mess in his mind. Thankfully, Hizashi caught the kid’s body before he could get another concussion.
Midoriya is incoherent, but his distress is clear, and even as Shouta staggers back from the sink with the weight of it, one thing comes across: Midoriya knew those kids.
Fuck, for fourteen years, he was one. Wrestling down his own emotions, Shouta slumps down onto the tiled floor and leans back against the cabinet. He sends waves of warmth and reassurance to Midorya, but somewhat ironically, the kid is so wrapped up in his own head that Shouta’s projections just bounce off.
Out of the corner of his eye, Shouta sees Hizashi settle Midoriya on the couch, absently running a hand through tangled green curls before making his way to the kitchen. He sits beside Shouta and offers his hand, which he takes gratefully.
It takes hours, but eventually a combination of sheer exhaustion and soothing murmurs from Shouta knocks Midoriya out. As soon as he feels the familiar gentle quiet of the kid’s mind, Shouta relaxes.
“He’s asleep,” Shouta tells Hizashi, who’s sat by him this whole time, offering silent support. Hizashi closes his eyes in relief.
“God, I just want to hug him,” Hizashi mutters.
Even with Midoriya cradled in his mind, Shouta agrees whole-heartedly.
“He doesn’t feel safe in his own body,” Shouta comments softly. “For so many years, it’s the place where he was hurt and bullied. It makes sense that - that he finds mine safer than his.”
“Gods,” Hizashi swears. “How - how do we even go about addressing that?”
“We make sure his body becomes a safe place for him,” Shouta muses after a long silence. “What we’ve been doing so far has been working - respecting his autonomy, not touching without permission.”
Hizashi nods, even as he clutches tightly onto Shouta’s hand. “Let’s go to bed,” Hizashi says quietly. “I’ll call in for tomorrow - they can run one of my pre-recorded shows.”
Shouta tips his head so he can briefly rest it against Hizashi’s shoulder. “Alright.”
He says a silent prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening that Midoriya wasn’t in the dorms alone when he heard the news.
Shouta wakes the next morning with a headache, and an empty mind. He frowns at the ceiling, before lolling his head sideways to see Hizashi still out to the world, and reflexively reaches up and brushes blonde hair out of the other man’s mouth.
As much as Shouta wants to stay in bed, he wants to make sure his kid is alright. So with a heavy sigh, and a brief rub at the pounding pain behind his temple, he rolls out of bed. In moments, he’s across the hallway and gently pushing open Midoriya’s door - it’s still early, barely 5am, so Shouta’s fairly certain any sensible teenager would still be asleep.
And Midoriya is asleep, that much is clear. But what’s also obvious is the small frown on the kid’s lips, the tell-tale shine of tears on his cheeks and tiny, near silent whimpers.
This kid just can’t catch a break, huh?
Shouta’s instincts are screaming for him to comfort the child immediately, but he’s also not going to unexpectedly touch an abused teen. So instead he settles on the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed and starts talking about random nonsense. At some point, Creep waltzes in and settles on his lap, so he explains how Hizashi had found the three-legged brat and couldn’t resist bringing her home.
A slight hitch in Midoriya’s breathing alerts Shouta to the kid’s waking, but he just keeps up his idle chatter. Gods, Shouta may not have spoken this much at one time since ever, but for his kid, he’ll do it.
Huh. He’s going soft.
Midoriya takes a deep breath, and then a familiar whisper slips into Shouta’s head. “Good morning,” Shouta thinks softly to the kid, and he gets a wave of projected exhaustion in response. He snorts lightly. Fair enough.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Midoriya whispers, and a pang of guilt comes through with his words. But Shouta is already waving off the apology, and projecting reassurance back at the teen.
“You have nothing to apologise for,” Shouta says firmly. He’s told the kid this before, and he’ll keep reminding him for as long as he needs to.
“Mr Shouta...” Midoriya starts, but trails off and he knows the kid can sense Shouta’s determination and conviction that the teen has nothing to be sorry for.
“Just ‘Shouta’ is fine,” Shouta thinks idly. “In person as well.” He catches a stray thought from the teen and snorts despite himself. “Yes, it’s still Mr Aizawa at school,” he confirms with a small pulse of humour.
“Izuku then,” the teen returns and Shouta projects his acknowledgement. It’s only logical for a parent to be on a first name basis with their kid.
Midoriya -no, Izuku lets out a small whine of embarrassment and Shouta belatedly realises what he let slip. “Too much?” he asks worriedly, but Izuku sends back the feeling of near suffocating joy wrapped in surprise.
Ah.
Shouta huffs softly. “Breakfast?” he prompts, “or more sleep?”
Izuku thinks for a moment and slips out of Shouta’s mind. “Breakfast!” the brat chirps, and Shouta can’t hide his smile even if he wanted to.
As Shouta expects, the wafting smell of pancakes lures Hizashi into the kitchen in no time at all. He hands the blonde his usual mug of coffee, as Izuku stares with wide eyes at the shambling creature that masquerades as an English teacher during the day.
“This is normal,” Shouta tells his Problem Child. “He’ll wake up after the first mug.”
Izuku blinks, shrugs and then hastily turns his attention back to the frypan, where the teen is skilfully cooking pancakes to perfection.
Shouta is not jealous of a fifteen year old’s pancake skills, he is not.
However, he’s genuinely not jealous of the way Izuku stretches and winces after breakfast is eaten and the dishes are clean. With narrowed eyes, Shouta skims a glance over the kid and recalls that at points yesterday, Izuku had definitely pushed past his 3% limit with One For All. No wonder the kid is sore.
Which is how Shouta cajoles Hizashi into pushing the couch against the wall so all three of them can run through a fairly straightforward yoga routine. It’s entertaining to see Izuku determinedly balance as well as he can, even though his prior training has clearly focused on strength over agility. Morning yoga will be good for the brat, it seems.
A new tradition, Shouta muses idly, and gently pokes Hizashi in the ribs to make his husband squawk and fall down. It startles a giggle out of Izuku, and a barely-there smile curves Shouta’s lips.
Yes, a new tradition indeed.