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Midoriya Izuku didn’t get sick often, but when he did, it was normally pretty bad. Now, Izuku definitely wasn’t sick, but still, the subtle ache in his stomach did cause him to think back on past colds. He grunted as he got out of bed, rubbing his side as he slowly changed into his uniform. Blazer, tie, buttons, socks, the usual.
And then a sharp pain hit him. Almost like a shock from Kaminari, it zapped through his abdomen and he muffled a cry of pain with his hand as he tripped over an Allmight plushie.
Stumbling and cursing up a storm, definitely confused and a tad bit concerned, he dragged himself back up to the door, dusting off his uniform again and slipping out into the hallway. The pain had dulled rapidly again after he relaxed, a tiny tingle on his left side and back. Weird. Maybe I pulled a muscle? Shrugging it off, as he was probably fine, he made his way down to the common room.
“Morning Iida!” He said, a hand mid-wave but it stuttered as his side pulled with the movement. Grunting and rubbing at it again, he frowned. “Good morning, Midoriya!” The taller teen paused from his orange juice and looked Izuku over, an eyebrow raised. “You seem pale, are you feeling okay?” I’m pale? Just great. “O-oh I’m fine- er, just a bit of a stomach ache I guess.” Izuku forced a sunshine smile onto his face, a bead of sweat running down his brow. I’m fine. It's fine- I’m always overreacting- Probably just Sero’s enchiladas messing with me again-
“Oh Iida, always a worrier!” Uraraka laughed, appearing almost out of thin air, jumping up and leaning on the blue haired boy. “Deku’s fine! Plus, look at that smile! Always excited for another day at U.A.!” She grinned, plopping down on a stool next to Iida and whipping out her phone. “Haha- Yo-You know me!” He cursed himself internally, feeling his stomach flip at the smell of toast, peanut butter, and eggs wafting from the kitchen.
Then the smell hit him head-on, like a battering ram. Was his nose acting up? Holy- that smells foul- shi- Kachan!? He coughed to hide a gag, squeaking as a particularly aggressive blonde forced Izuku into a chair. He looked up, surprised as the teen set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him.
“Eat. You never went for your morning runnnn… Oh fuck-” the blonde suddenly cut himself off, eyes widening as he leaned over the counter to look Izuku over. “Deku, I swear to God if you’re sick-” Izuku squealed with indignation. “Kachan! I’m fine . I promise!” He felt himself flush as everyone moving into the common room focused on the commotion they were causing.
Bakugou’s eyebrow raised and an eye twitched. “...Sure. Try saying that when your face doesn’t match Aizawa’s scarf. Plus your sweating. You run cold normally.” HOW THE HELL DOES HE KNOW THAT?!
Kaminari drifted near them, Izuku trying to wrangle Bakugou from checking his temperature and force feeding him scrambled eggs, resulting in the red-eyed boy being chucked like a ragdoll over the kitchen stools, and Izuku wincing from the struggle, his side twinging again. “WOAH- Bakugou!” Kirishima screeched in the background.
“Yo, so, like, what’s the big deal if he’s not feeling so good? Never thought you were such a worry wart Kachan ~” Kaminari smirked, leaning over the counter and staring at the blond flailing on the ground.
Bakugo froze, looking up and snarling. “I’M NOT WORRYING! It's just that when shitty Deku gets sick, it gets bad. Like, really, really bad-” he pulled himself up, pacing back and forth, one hand reaching out and yanking on the earlobe of the electric blonde and dragging him off. “HEY- OW! What the heck man?!”
“If the nerd is sick, trust me Dunceface, you do not want to get it.” Bakugou spat, shivering as if from fear or disgust. Turning to face Izuku one last time, he said, “DEKU EAT YOUR BREAKFAST. SO FREAKING HELP ME IF I’M STUCK BABYSITTING YOU AGAIN-” and the blonde stormed off, muttering profanities and complaining about Izuku’s past cases of high fevers and that embarrassing time he projectile vomited all over his bed. That was one time, I swear!
Uraraka giggled, looking up from her phone, Iida in the background still loudly complaining about Bakugou's “Prude language”. Izuku looked down to his plate, his stomach churning uncomfortably. Sure, normally he would practically inhale any food made by Kachan…but today- he groaned at another little pulse in his side. His chopsticks prodded the eggs and he swallowed back a bit of bile. Nope. Nuh uh. There is no way I’m gonna be able to keep anything down- He bit his lip, eyes watering as he slid from his stool and disposed of the untouched breakfast discreetly.
Whimpering as his side had a particularly harsh cramp, he carefully left the dorms and made his way to his class.
Okay. Fine. Maybe I am sick. He thought bitterly, his head wedged between his arms as he leaned miserably against his desk, the cold wood helping with his feverish state. The pain was getting worse. More frequent and strong, causing his nausea to rise even more. It was homeroom now, and in the span of just a few hours he went from “stomach ache” to “holy crap I think my intestines are exploding”.
Even Mr. Aizawa had taken notice of Izuku, a frown apparent on his face, eyes constantly monitoring the boy who was definitely not paying attention to his announcements. Shuddering and wiping his brow, he stumbled up and slowly made his way to the cafeteria for lunch, unaware of the concerned eyes of his classmates following him.
Lunch was horrible. Even just plain rice was a struggle to choke down, and by the end of it he felt himself tearing at the seams. This sucks. What’s wrong with me? Why does it hurt so much? What am I supposed to do now during training? What kind of stomach bug is this? Oh gosh- Interrupted from his panicked train of thought, he was startled by a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades.
“Hey. You doing okay?” He looked up, wincing at the sudden vertigo of even moving his head. Blinking wearily, he came to face Shinso, the purple haired teen suddenly feeling Izuku’s forehead. “Dude, you’re burning up. Something’s obviously wrong, and- I SWEAR IF YOU SAY YOUR FINE-” He suddenly said, cutting Izuku off and resulting in the boy snapping his mouth shut, just as he was about to protest. “You’ve barely touched your food. At least eat, we’ve got training later and if you’re not feeling good you need more nutrition.”
“I- okay.” He sighed, shakily forcing himself to finish the rice before trying to stand, Uraraka, Todoroki and Iida all watching him. He leaned to pick up his books, before freezing in a hunched over position with a cry of pain. Augh- It hurts! “Midoriya? You good?”
“Deku, no offense- but your face is starting to look the same color as your hair-” Oh..are they still talking to me? Huh. Izuku swayed, his stomach gurgling, his lightheadedness clearing for a split second. Oh no. Shit- garbage-
“G-Gonna be si-AH-” Andddd I just threw up all over Iida’s shoes. He wheezed in pain, sobs wracking his figure as people swarmed around him, contractions of sharp pain seizing his side as if he was stabbed. Kneeling on the ground as black spots danced in his blurry vision, he felt himself continue vomiting, hands wrapped around himself in a pitiful attempt of a hug.
Someone at some point pulled his hair up, and he heard someone else yelling to go get a teacher. “Augh- Ah- Ow-” He mumbled, slumping forward as his body continued to twitch with pain, knees sliding in his own sick on the lunchroom floor. Something strong and warm grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look up, blinking tears from his eyes.
“Problem Child. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“-ensei?” he slurred, leaning forward again, before shrieking at another pulse. “Alright. Something’s wrong. Kirishima, help me get him to Recovery Girl.” Izuku felt hands try to hoist him from under his ribs. “No- no wai- AGHH!” Fingers dug right into where it hurt most on accident, and he screamed .
Shota Aizawa knew something was wrong with the Problem Child the moment he walked into class. After all, the kid looked rough. Pale, clammy skin, flushed cheeks, favoring a side, etc. He found himself frowning, also taking note that the other hellspawn were watching the green haired boy as well.
All throughout the morning he acted off. No usual muttering, or raising hands to answer questions, just him silently leaning against his desk as if in pain. Figuring he better step in or the kid would continue to neglect himself, he winced as the lunch bell rang. “Mid- Dammit, kid.” Saved by the bell, the kid was already gone.
But then, not even twenty minutes later, his fear was confirmed when Iida slammed into the breakroom strong enough to send the door flying, whacking Present Mic strong enough to knock the blonde out. “Sorry for the intrusion! Sensei!? Midoriya’s ill!” he snapped his head up, hand already wrapped around his scarf from surprise. “Right. Lead the way.”
He chose to ignore the fact that the kid was barefoot, and definitely smelling of vomit, or the fact that his husband was now sprawled out on the ground with the imprint of a door handle on his forehead.
Ill was an understatement. The kid was currently curled up on the lunchroom floor , swarmed by students as he sobbed and continued to dry heave. “Move.” he growled, kneeling in front of the boy, hands steading him from swaying. “Come on kid, talk to me. What hurts? What’s the problem?”
It wasn’t until Kirishima’s hands gripped his sides though that Shota realized this was worse than he thought. The kid had screamed bloody murder from the touch, bile spewing from lips as he exhaled and inhaled at the same time, resulting in a gargled wail. “Set him down! Set him down- set him dow- SHIT- KID?!”
He was choking on his own vomit.
Fuck.
Scrambling around on the floor, pushing a startled and terrified Kirishima away, he frantically did the Heimlich maneuver, resulting in more screaming and sick flying. “Midoriya, breathe- deep breaths- there you go-” and then he fell, the back of his head hitting the floor just before Shota could catch him, the boy's eyes still open despite him definitely now unconscious. “SOMEONE GET RECOVERY GIRL!”
Appendicitis. That’s what it was called. When a useless organ quirkless people have decides to become infected, or even worse, burst. And become infected it did, according to Recovery Girl, who was currently cleaning Izuku’s stitches. Ignoring the fact that the situation in general was horrible, it could have been way worse. Heck, if the infection leaked into his abdominal cavity, things would have gone down hill way faster. But still. Nothing about this was fun.
He flipped through the pamphlet she handed up, wincing as his IV shifted. He grimaced. Only quirkless people have these things? Un- unevolved? Sure, he had heard the insult plenty of times in his fifteen years of life, but still, it hurt that it was true.
“Problem Child. Feeling better?” He looked up, startled at his teacher's sudden appearance. “O-oh yea, surgery is never fun, but honestly I’m just glad I’m okay.”
Aizawa raised a brow. “...surgery. You know what, I give up trying to understand you.” Izuku shrugged sheepishly, watching as Aizawa looked back to the cards his classmates had made him. “Learn to take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, tell me .”
And he was left alone in the nurse's office rubbing his stitches warily.