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Izuku looks through the window into the room, trying to see if it’s occupied. But it looks like no one’s around. All that’s there are the art supplies and the canvases. He presses his face closer to the window to see for sure but wait…that’s a new canvas, isn’t it? His feet are moving into the room without thinking as his anticipation grows.
He doesn’t pay attention to the sculptures and watercolor paintings the members of the art club had been working on, his focus is solely on seeing what’s on the canvas where Shigaraki-sensei normally works. When he gets to it, his breath leaves him in a small gasp. It’s very clearly still a work in progress, but what’s there still grabs his attention and his heart. Like most of the teacher’s works, this one was with thick oil paint that stood out from the canvas; he could barely stop himself from touching it and feeling the texture for himself. The piece was mostly greys and blacks, with a single, small line of red in the middle. It looked like it was on the verge of being consumed by everything around it. Izuku looks at it for a while longer before shaking his head. Maybe it’s not being consumed, but is instead the source of this darkness? …Or maybe it’s something else entirely because it’s an obvious work in progress.
He hopes he can sneak back in to see it when it gets closer to being finished.
Izuku’s not a member of the art club and he’d by no means call himself an artist but there was something about Shigaraki-sensei and his paintings that drew him in, like the man was a planet with his own gravitational field. The teacher was notoriously closed-off to the point of coldness and he had no patience for anyone who wasted his time, regardless of if they were his colleagues, his students, or even his boss. Even with the art club that he ran, it was more of a requirement for his position rather than any real enthusiasm to be surrounded by other students. He had appeared partway through Izuku’s first year of junior high after the previous art teacher had left due to sudden health concerns. Izuku had walked past the classroom one day and paused at seeing the back of a tall man he didn’t recognize sitting and working at something, like he was scraping it. The next day the carved piece was finished. It was a pair of hands angled forward, twin black holes in the palm. After that, though, the piece disappeared. It wasn’t anywhere in the classroom and he’d never overheard any of the students talking about it.
It made him feel special, as if he got to see something no one else did. From that day on, he always tried to stop by at the end of the day when everyone had gone home. Sometimes Shigaraki-sensei would be in there working, other times the man would have just stepped outside of the room for something and Izuku would sneak in and see what his latest piece was.
This is what he would miss most about junior high school when graduation time came around for him this year. He wouldn’t get the opportunity to see art like this in person. It was the one and only thing that managed to even chip away at his determination to get into UA. But he knew a teacher he’d never even officially met wouldn’t follow him to an entirely new school. He cherished these stolen moments even more because of this, or maybe despite this. No matter how horrible the day he’d had, no matter how upset or anxious he felt, seeing these pieces made his strife and worries melt and recede. He didn’t have the same eye for analyzing art that he did for quirks, but that didn’t stop his enjoyment. His mom had definitely noticed him smiling more when he came home and had tried to push him to joining the art club when she found out.
But the idea of approaching Shigaraki-sensei, of risking losing this special place he’d made when the man finds out Izuku had…more or less been spying on him and his artwork, or if he finds out Izuku’s quirkless and doesn’t want someone like him bothering him…he doesn’t want to think about it. Better that he just stay hidden and preserve this happiness while he can.
The next day, after the students still hanging around the school have almost completely gone home, Izuku moves to do the same. His feet take him along the hallway to get a quick glimpse of Shigaraki-sensei but the man is again absent. And…there’s another new canvas. That’s strange, normally he would spend at least a few more days on his pieces if not a week, or entire weeks. Unless it was deliberate, the oil painting from yesterday didn’t look far enough along for it to be finished already. Nevertheless, his curiosity burns in him and so he gently opens the door and goes to look at the new canvas. Will this one also be an oil painting, he wonders. Most likely, but there have still been times Shigaraki-sensei has worked with charcoal, or wood carvings, and even fabric on one memorable occasion. He walks further into the room, going around the easel to see…nothing.
“I thought someone had been coming in here,” a voice says thoughtfully. Izuku squeaks and spins around to see Shigaraki-sensei towering over him, a slight twitch to the teacher’s lips at Izuku’s reaction as he observes the boy.
Izuku bows in apology. “I’m so sorry, sensei! I didn’t mean to bother you. I…I’ll just go now.” Shigaraki-sensei just looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
“So, you meant to just come in here and look at my art without telling me, as you’ve been doing?” His tone’s neutral, but Izuku still goes to stammer out apologies. Shigaraki-sensei holds up a hand and cuts him off. “What’s your name?”
“Izuku Midoriya, third year, sir.” Izuku keeps his eyes glued to the ground. Uninterested in socialization or not, he knows that the teacher probably overheard some of his colleagues complain about him. Izuku certainly has.
A beat of silence. And then: “Izuku Midoriya, will you do me the pleasure of being my muse?”
Izuku’s head snaps up and he looks at Shigaraki-sensei in incredulous surprise. “M-me?! You want me to be…your muse? I’m afraid that…I don’t understand, sensei. Why me?”
Shigaraki-sensei hums for a second before he reaches a hand out and tousles Izuku’s hair. “It’s been a while since I felt the urge to work with green.”
It’s hardly a real answer, but Izuku realizes that it’s true. In all of Shigaraki-sensei’s pieces, he never once used green, even in his warmer pieces. He wonders what made him decide to do that and why now, of all times, he's changing it.
Shigaraki-sensei grabs the empty canvas and moves to put it away and packs up the easel as well. Izuku realizes with a start that he’d known Izuku was watching him long enough to make a…well, he doesn’t want to call it a trap exactly—since that word has more negative connotations—so he guesses maybe an instigation for conversation?
A hand being placed on his shoulder makes him startle, Shigaraki-sensei giving an actual smile this time. “My, you are skittish, aren’t you?” He lifts his hand from Izuku’s shoulder to give him a small wave. “Enjoy your weekend, Izuku Midoriya.”
Izuku realizes it’ll be an entire weekend before he has the chance to see what the art teacher means by his request and almost sulks. But he remembers his manners in time to get out “Y-you too, sensei!” before Shigaraki-sensei walks out the door. Izuku’s left all alone amongst the different works and projects and he smiles to himself, rocking on his heels a few times. He’s going to be getting to see more of this room in the future, he thinks contentedly.
He leaves after a second longer, ready to go home, but Shigaraki-sensei’s already completely vanished from the hall.
On Monday, he comes into the room clutching his bag tightly and smiling nervously. “H-hi, sensei!” he greets with a small wave. The man nods back at him in return, a small smile on his face as he brings out an array of supplies. Izuku gives him a confused look.
“Have you ever painted before?” Shigaraki-sensei asks curiously. Izuku shakes his head. “I’ve only ever really drawn with a pencil,” he admits sheepishly.
“There’s no shame in that,” Shigaraki-sensei says. “Pick whatever you’d like. I’d like it if you would make something of your own during this time.”
“I thought you wanted me to be your muse?” Izuku feels bold using those words, even if Shigaraki-sensei had used them first.
“You don’t get along with your peers, do you?” The responding question catches Izuku off guard. “It’s not surprising, this is a complicated time in children’s development and quirks lend themselves so well to identifying weaknesses in people.” He gives Izuku a knowing look and Izuku can feel his whole body tense. “In all this time, you’ve never come into art club, despite your interest. As I said, it’s hardly surprising if you don’t get along with them. However,” his gaze at once sharpens and gentles “you shouldn’t let them prevent you from leaving your own mark behind. So, I would like for you to make something, anything, during these meetings.”
“And what about you?” Izuku redirects the conversation in order to push his emotions to the side. None of his teachers, especially not now that they were all making plans for applying to high schools, had ever encouraged him to “leave his mark behind”.
“I’ll do my own piece, using you as a reference as needed,” he smiles reassuringly at Izuku. “I know it might seem strange, but you can move as you need and come over and look at what I’m doing at any time. I want to make this a safe and comfortable environment for you.”
Izuku nods and takes a slow breath. “Is it okay if I listen to music while I work?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.” Shigaraki-sensei gets himself set up while Izuku looks over the supplies, biting his lip. He reaches for the oil pastels after a minute of thought and goes over to the table to start working. He keeps his music quiet so as to not disturb Shigaraki-sensei, catching the man looking at his canvas with an intense expression as he paints. But his gaze is always softer when he looks back to Izuku for reference, the two smiling at each other whenever they look at each other at the same time. It feels like almost no time’s passed before an alarm rings from Shigaraki-sensei’s phone.
Izuku looks up, startled at the sound as it sounds in the empty room. “Is everything alright, sensei?”
“That was just an alarm so I didn’t keep you too late. You have to get home and do your homework, after all.” He shows Izuku the time and he blinks rapidly, trying to figure out how almost two hours have passed. “Is it alright if I ask to see what you made? You don’t have to show me and your answer will not impact my willingness to have you here.” Shigaraki-sensei goes out of his way again to comfort him and it’s as foreign as it is nice for it to come from someone that’s not his mother.
“Y-yeah, of course!” Izuku shows him the portrait he’d been working on with a flushed face. He knows there were a lot of mistakes he made with it, he didn’t realize how oil pastels worked when he first started and he’s sure that it looks even worse to someone who really knows what he’s doing and—
“I’m sure your mother will love it,” Shigaraki-sensei says softly. “She seems so vibrant with how you’ve captured her.”
Izuku blinks. “How did you know she’s my mom?” After another beat his brain catches up with the compliment and he flushes. He had used a picture he’d taken of her at his twelfth birthday as reference, her cheeks were flushed as she cried proudly while cutting a slice of cake for him. He had drawn her cheeks too red instead of the more pink-ish shade they were meant to be and her smile seemed too wobbly. Her hair didn’t fall just like it did in the picture, seeming a bit too static. But Shigaraki-sensei didn’t comment on any of it as he smiled at the piece.
“You two look very similar. The resemblance is hard not to notice.” Shigaraki-sensei says ruefully. Izuku rubs the back of his head, chiding himself for not using his perfectly functional head to come to that conclusion himself.
“You really think she’ll like it?” Izuku asks hesitantly.
“If she’s anything like she is in the picture, she’ll probably shed a few tears when you hand it to her.”
Izuku swallows roughly. “Thank you, sensei. Can…can I see what you did?” Shigaraki-sensei nods and extends his arm closest to the canvas out to the side in invitation. He sees the pencil sketch outlining the piece’s composition surrounding the first layers of paint in some areas. It looks less abstract than many of Shigaraki-sensei’s usual works, though his face lacks any features in the pencil sketch, it’s clearly the outline of his face shape and his hair. There’s a sketch of three hands that will be framing him, one from above and two from below. Hands are a recurring motif in Shigaraki-sensei’s works, but the significance of hands in general, as well as the three hands here, is unknown to him. Maybe when the piece is closer to completion he can ask? He slowly pulls his eyes away from the piece to look up at Shigaraki-sensei. “I think it’s going to look incredible,” he says quietly.
Shigaraki-sensei puts a hand on Izuku's head. “I certainly hope so; I would like for it to live up to your expectations. Now, go home to your mother. I’ll be seeing you soon, Izuku Midoriya.”
Izuku carefully tucks the portrait he made away in his bag and clears up his area before waving goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, sensei!”
When he gets home, he finds out that Shigaraki-sensei was wrong. His mother weeps when he hands her the portrait, hugging him tightly and complimenting him for the rest of the night.
The rest of the year passes in a similar fashion, his school days are spent in tense anticipation and his afterschool days are spent in contentment and easy silence that comfortably grows into conversation. He’s proud that he’s the one that gets the notoriously unsociable Shigaraki-sensei to open up, even just the slightest bit. In turn, Shigaraki-sensei becomes the first adult outside of his family that Izuku really trusts. He’s never judged Izuku about anything, even his critique of Izuku’s techniques is done gently and constructively. The man is molding him into an artist with the most tender of touches, as if he’s a priceless figure of clay that only needs touching up.
Today, Izuku decides to do watercolors. Shigaraki-sensei has been working on the same painting this whole time, wanting to take his time with it as opposed to his normal mania. He had confessed to Izuku once that many of his paintings were done when his hands itched to do something, so he put an easel in front of himself as a distraction until the itch had passed.
“So, what’re your plans for the future?” Shigaraki-sensei says, mixing greens on his tray. Izuku hadn’t checked on his progress in weeks, not wanting to spoil the surprise.
“I want to apply to UA and become a hero,” Izuku says with a smile as he sketches out All Might on his page. He’s drawn plenty of heroes before, both in his notebooks and in these after school sessions they have. But he hasn’t drawn his favorite hero here yet, wanting to get more comfortable trying different techniques before he painted All Might. For such a simple costume design, there was so much to capture. But with his watercolor of Thirteen having been received so well by Shigaraki-sensei last week, he feels he can actually give his best effort.
“Will you be trying to get into the heroics department from the start, or do you plan on beginning in general education?” Shigaraki-sensei’s tone is conversational, but there’s a familiar undercurrent to it. He’s never been able to pinpoint it exactly, but certain topics made his tone just…almost unnerving. Like Izuku was stepping in a landmine and had no clue where any of them were. He guesses that’s just a voice teachers have.
“I want to get into heroics right away. There’s technically nothing against it, regardless of my quirklessness. If I can score high enough on the written exam, that might be enough to supplement any failings on the practical.”
“Have you been training?” Izuku cringes at the question. The truth is…no. There’s so much that he needs to do that it just makes his head spin and nothing ever gets done. He could theoretically set something up if only he had his afternoons free. But the idea of cancelling on Shigaraki-sensei was unthinkable, especially at this point. These were the best parts of his days.
Shigaraki-sensei sighs. “Do you have any other alternate plans for if you aren’t accepted into UA?”
Izuku cringes again, his brush stroke coming down jagged. He quietly swears and tries to fix it as gently as he can.
“You remind me very much of my other student, at times. Both of you have ambitions, but you need to have a strong foundation and conviction to see it through. If you don’t appreciate the techniques you have to learn and take the time to master them, you’ll be met with pain.” Izuku’s heard a few times before about Shigaraki-sensei’s private student. Apparently, despite him being under Shigaraki-sensei’s tutelage, he had little appreciation or patience for art of nearly any kind. “You have to have a plan and see it through. From there, create your contingencies. You won’t be hurt if one falls through if you have more. You can’t leave a mark of any kind behind if you won’t take the time to make sure you have set yourself up for success.”
His teacher is matter of fact in how he hammers away at Izuku’s heart, though Izuku knows he means well. He knows he’s right, too. So often his hesitation costs him. How long could he have had this relationship as Shigaraki-sensei’s student if he had only been a little bolder?
“What is it about UA that attracts you to it? What makes you want to be a hero?” Izuku has his answers instinctively, but they’re so half-formed that he cringes at the idea of vocalizing them after what Shigaraki-sensei just said.
“I want…I want to be like All Might. I want to be able to save people with a smile.” There’s a beat of silence before Shigaraki-sensei sighs.
“That’s who you’re painting right now, isn’t it?” Izuku blinks, startled. It’s not the first time it feels like his teacher might have some kind of vision quirk or even a mind reading one, it never fails to catch him off guard each time. Shigaraki-sensei walks over and looks down at Izuku’s painting. Izuku follows his gaze only to flinch.
At some point, the colors had started to run together and though it was still in the shape of All Might, it was now a mass of grey water staining the outline that had a ruined smile. Izuku doesn’t understand how this could have happened, he’s been paying attention to it and that painting of Thirteen had gone so well!
“When you mix too many bright colors together, you don’t end up with a brilliant light, you end up with a smear of grey. They all bleed into each other until there’s nothing. That’s the reality of painting and that’s the reality of All Might. No matter how brightly he smiles and how many people he saves, eventually he will bleed out his colors. It’s likely he knows this and tries to shine brighter still, aggravating the problem. If you try to imitate him, it’s likely you’ll snap under it all. If you wish to emulate him, that will ultimately end similarly.” Izuku squeezes his eyes shut tightly to try and hide how much those words hurt. Had it been brought to him as a dismissal of his skills or derision for wanting to be like All Might, he could have tried and shaken it off. But as it is…this hurts in a very raw way.
Shigaraki-sensei places a hand on his shoulder, not commenting on Izuku’s obvious flinch. “This is not to say that I don’t think you have a great deal of potential. I believe that you are something extraordinary. You are not All Might, but that does not mean you cannot exceed what he’ll leave behind on your own merits.” Izuku shoots his head up and hears Shigaraki-sensei laugh quietly. “Both you and my student are so similar in your desires to match All Might, but you should instead be focusing on how you wish to fill the void he will leave behind one day.”
Izuku wipes at his face with his free arm and leans into the contact as Shigaraki-sensei tousles his hair again. “I’ll be leaving this school soon, once your class graduates. I’ll be devoting my time to my other ventures, just as you will be doing the same with yours. I’ll also be needing to cut some of our afternoons off, since I will be packing my classroom up. But don’t think this means I will be forgetting about you. I don’t think anyone truly can, least of all myself.”
Izuku flushes and nods, fighting off the disappointment at the idea of losing some of his remaining time in the art room. “I’ll make sure to keep up with my art, sensei.”
Shigaraki-sensei smiles fondly at him. “What a dutiful child I have.”
Izuku smiles and slowly stands up, looking down at his ruined painting of All Might. Looking at it still makes him feel upset—this is one of the last pieces he’ll ever do with Shigaraki-sensei and it turned out so poorly—but he has a new way of looking at it now. He runs a hand along the corners before he decides to keep it, rather than tossing it away.
They pack up their belongings, Shigaraki-sensei’s painting being covered before being stored in his office. Izuku watches it go in curiosity. “Sensei? Do you think it’ll be done before I graduate?”
Shigaraki-sensei looks speculative for a second. “I don’t believe it will be. Instead, I think it’ll be done when we next see each other after. I’ll take you to see it when that time comes.”
Izuku smiles. “I look forward to it, sensei.”
Shigaraki-sensei, as always, makes to leave first before pausing. “There’s another boy your age who I know will be applying to UA, maybe the two of you will be friends.”
“If you know them and actually tolerate them, I’m sure I will,” Izuku teases, making Shigaraki-sensei laugh.
Izuku watches the art teacher walk out of the door, following in his footsteps after shooting off a quick text to his mom.
