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Some nights, Shouta felt truly haunted by his past. Some nights he woke up from a cold chill that ran down his spine and a raging cry coursing through his veins that begged for coping mechanisms he’d long-since learned to live without. Some nights, he woke with shuddering breaths that could only be cured with freezing cold showers. He didn’t sleep much to begin with, so the few hours he got each night were cherished and coveted, and he hated the nights that kept him awake.
Tonight, Shouta startled out of his fragile sleep by the sound of his own thudding heart and the desire to claw his own skin off. Both cats, Bastard and Lady, bolted from the bed as he struggled out of the sheets. Hizashi didn’t even budge in his sound sleep, having always been a heavy sleeper - partially due to his deafness. But Shouta didn’t want to disturb his husband anyway, he never did. Zashi knew about his sleep issues, and begged Shouta to wake him up if he ever needed company, but Shouta never did.
Instead, he took several deep breaths with his head between his knees until the crawling sensation left his arms and he no longer felt the desire to drown the creeping voices in the back of his head in alcohol. Six years sober, and he wouldn’t ruin that streak now. Shouta stumbled himself out of bed and used the walls of his apartment to search his way to the kitchen for a glass of cold water, and maybe some protein to fill his empty, aching stomach. He probably forgot to eat before passing out after patrol. What time was it?
The clock said half past three in the morning, the darkened windows proved it was still before sunrise, but there was little chanse he’d be getting back to sleep anyway. Mornings like this were how he got his grading done ahead of schedule. His kids knew to send their work in the night before it was due, as there was a very good chance he’d have it graded before class the next day, and they enjoyed getting their grades sooner. Less worry, less time to panic over their projects.
Bastard expertly weaved himself between Shouta’s legs into the kitchen, meowing angrily for something to chew on since his human was awake. Shouta rolled his eyes and put a scoop of kibble in both cats’ bowls on his way through. Lady came trotting out of the bedroom at the sound and both cats happily munched their early breakfast while Shouta poured himself a glass of water and tossed a few ice cubes into it.
The nightmares were always the same; memories of times he failed to save someone, memories of the few times in his life he’d been too fucking late to help. The first; Oboro, his best friend, who died in a training accident their second year of hero school. It wasn’t Shouta’s fault, obviously, but he blamed himself. He probably always would. Then there was a few civilians over the years, a mugging, a suicide, and a fire. Shouta should have been able to save these people. But he wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough, at the time. His first years as a hero were the roughest, and it’s what led him to drinking in the first place.
Fighting was in Shouta’s blood. His father had been a champion boxer. His mother had been a mixed-martial arts expert in her free time and a hero PR specialist for work. Shouta had lived his life fighting in rings, training rooms, and competitions. He didn’t know how to do anything but fight some days. It didn’t matter how bloodied he managed to get - his fists were fine. His soul, on the other hand, was bruised beyond repair, or so he feared. But despite all his faults and failings over the years, he kept going. He kept fighting, because he truly believed his duty to prove he could be a hero, and save people doing it, was one of the few things in his life that mattered. Honestly, it’s what kept him going on these awful nights.
Shouta’s computer dinged, likely another student turning in their homework for the week, so he decided to check it. He grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet on his way back into the living room where he’d left his laptop plugged in at his desk next to Hizashi’s. The light of his screen blinded him for a moment before he could actually see all his alerts and tabs. Lord, he’d left a damn mess last night before patrol. Shouta sighed as he closed out most of his work after hitting save on several screens.
“Hm.” He muttered. An email from Midoriya just came through.
Why was his already overworked student up this late? Or maybe he’d scheduled this email to send when he knew Shouta would be up doing grading? Shouta sat down and opened the email.
A video? Was he trying out new ways to submit certain work?
Shouta hit play.
“My name is Izuku Midoriya.”
The kid sat on his bed, wringing out his hands. He’d formed that habit after breaking them too many times. Shouta knew the kid had chronic pain, but he never admitted to it. Recovery Girl said there wasn’t much they could do besides physical therapy (which he already did) and ice or heat. Heroics, as a profession, didn’t allow the use of regular pain medication outside of injury recovery periods. It was a rule to prevent addiction and abuse but also to stay on the good side of insurance, and prevent scandals.
“I don’t know why All Might put the whole world on my shoulders, but maybe I should.”
The kid sighed so deeply, his shoulders actually slumped halfway down his tense spine. Had he been crying? Shouta was on the edge of his seat. Was this a cry for help? Had Shouta missed something so integral in his student’s mental health he’d somehow not seen Midoriya struggling?
“I guess it’s always been like that. Kids can be cruel, ya know? Kids with quirks…anyway. They’ve always said I wasn’t useful unless I was doing something like serving others, serving those with quirks. Maybe they were right. Maybe this is all I get; to be the next symbol of peace in a world not ready to accept that it made the monsters that inhabit it.”
Shouta was both horrified and confused. His student was admitting he’d been bullied, and abused, but more than that, he was saying his mentor, and every other person with a quirk, only believed he could be useful if he gave his life in their service, in service to the world. He was saying he only had value if he became the next symbol of peace and offered his life to the very villains that wanted to take it.
“It’s just that…right now, I really don’t want to be that symbol. I don’t want to be a martyr, or a sacrifice. I don’t want to be seen as motivational for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t overcome some hurdle by manifesting a quirk. There wasn’t anything wrong with me before!”
“Of course not-” Shouta barely got a handle on his volume before shouting the words at his screen. He was clutching the desk with both hands, halfway stood up and ready to run. Something about this felt wrong, it felt off. It screamed for help, but not in a way that made Shouta think he student was doing anything more than finally asking for some sorely needed attention. Was this something more?
“I know they don’t get it. My classmates all grew up with quirks. They don’t understand that when they say things like- When they talk about quirkless people like we’re disabled, or diseased, they don’t realize just how much it hurts, or how hard it is for me to find words or even breathe when they ask my opinion.”
Shouta was already planning a week of compassion education in the back of his mind. These kids should absolutely never speak about quirklessness like a disease. While the government did classify quirklessness as a disability, it wasn’t some damning monstrosity like cancer. There was no excuse for these kids to be treating anyone like that, unless they were taught to by their parents.
“Right now, I just…I don’t think I know the right words, and I don’t think they would want to hear them anyway. It’s so hard to breathe…it’s so fucking hard, Sensei. I’m sorry.”
Shouta’s breath caught in his lungs. “Sorry for what?” Izuku stared at his hands for a while before holding up a little vial of what looked like blood.
“Make sure All Might gets this, okay?” He smiled in this broken way that split Shouta’s whole chest in half. “Goodbye, Sensei-”
Shouta was out of his apartment before the sentence finished, his cats scrambled to get out of his way as he threw the door open and bolted for the stairs. He clawed the walls, threw himself forward each time he hit a landing. Reaching the third floor felt like climbing a mountain but he made it, he made it in seconds.
The will to fight in Shouta’s soul filled his ears along with the thudding of his blood with every booming step until he made it to Midoriya’s room and shouldered the door open without even bothering to try the handle. A spear threw itself through his chest as he scrambled across the room.
“NO!” Izuku screeched as Shouta reached him. “I can’t… I can’t!”
They fought over the bottle of pills in Izuku’s hands for several long seconds. Izuku’s scarred and bent fingers couldn’t get it open and Shouta refused to let him. The bottle cracked, burst open, the pills went sliding across the carpet. Izuku wailed.
“Why would you do that?!”
“Izuku-”
“Why?!”
Shouta pulled the boy into his arms, hugged him as his few frail words turned into wrecked sobs. His crooked fingers clutched Shouta’s chest. He tried to punch and kick, to wrench himself free from Shouta’s grip, but he didn’t have the strength. They slid to the floor. Shouta clutched the boy’s head to his chest, rocked him through each gasping, choked cry. His body curled into Shouta’s side, he became so small, Shouta was scared he might disappear.
“Just breathe.” Shouta whispered. “I know it’s hard. God, I know how fucking hard this is, but please, just breathe. Nothing else matters right now.”
The floorboards in the hallway creaked. When he looked up, he found Mina rubbing her eyes sleepily, only to snap out of her sleep the second she saw the scene in her classmate’s room. Her eyes darted around to the pills, then to Izuku’s howling form, then to Shouta himself.
“Go wake Yamada, my door’s open. Tell him I need Hound Dog, Recovery Girl, and Nedzu.” She nodded slowly, turned without managing to speak, and darted off down the hallway.
Izuku’s cries shook him each time a new wave of agony struck the teenager falling apart in his arms. Shouta couldn't even begin to express just how well he understood this kind of cliff Izuku was currently standing on. They might have come to this point by different means, and at different points in their lives, but Shouta was intimately familiar with the desire to end it all. He’d drunken himself into so many stupors over the years, he’d stood on rooftops, begged a breeze to push him over the edge, he’d drawn petty art on his arms with knives, hoping he’d hit something vital with just one wrong nick. Once, he swallowed enough pills that Recovery Girl had to pump his stomach and put him in a coma for three days to keep him alive.
Shouta would never wish that on anyone, especially not the kids he hoped to one day see graduate and become professional heroes. He’d hoped and prayed that his kids would have it easier, that they wouldn’t face grief and heartache at such a young age. He’d begged the universe to keep them safe, even as villains attacked over and over. But he’d been wrong. The cause of this child’s sorrow was drawn from his childhood, from being forced to serve as a martyr for a world that had been so unkind to him from the very start.
Hizashi skidded to a stop in the doorway. Shouta could hear a few more students stirring from the commotion and noise of Shouta breaking down Midoriya’s door and his initial screams. He’d not yet calmed down but he was crying quietly into Shouta’s shoulder. He knew the kid would likely pass out from exhaustion soon. An event like this took almost every ounce of a person, and left them hollow and empty. But Shouta knew there was only up from a depth like this. He hoped he could teach Midoriya that.
“They’re on the way. What can I do?”
Shouta brushed a hand over his kid’s curls and shrugged. “Keep the other students back.” There was a lot they’d need to do shortly, but he’d wait until Izuku was in safe hands before handling the fallout afterwards. “Come on, kiddo.” Izuku actually looped his hands around Shouta’s neck and settled on the man’s hips so he could carry Izuku easier. He probably didn’t want to leave the one grounding force he had right now. Shouta vowed to be that grounding force whenever Izuku needed him. “Close his door, please.” He whispered to Hizashi as he walked out with Midoriya in his arms.
Hizashi closed the door and wedged it since Shouta broke the lock, and waved to a few students who were emerging from their rooms.
“Back to bed, students. Everything is under control.”
Sadly, Shouta expected Mina to tell the whole class what she found once she got back. He would also need to have a talk about privacy with the class once this was all over. Still, maybe they’d all see how serious this was if Mina dramatized it. Or maybe they’d overreact. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped it would end well.
Hound Dog met him at the base of the stairs with Recovery Girl and Nedzu not far behind him.
“Aizawa.”
“He’s unconscious. I found him before he could do anything. I don’t think he’s hurt himself, but he should have a full medical panel anyway.”
“What happened, Shouta?” Chiyo asked.
“He sent me a video. I assume he thought I’d see it this morning, or maybe later when I’m known to do grading. It was a goodbye video. I found him trying to down a bottle of pills but he couldn’t get it open before I stopped him.”
“Oh, child.” She moved to brush a hand over his sleeping face. Shouta knew she was checking him for injuries and issues. “He’s medically fine, no injuries, no drugs in his system. Let’s get him to the infirmary. He’ll be in your care, Inui.”
“Mm.” The older therapist agreed. “He’ll need a psychiatric panel. We’ll go from there afterwards. For now, he needs rest and fluids.”
Shouta handed the student to Hound Dog, who cradled the small teenager in his arms. He and Recovery Girl left the dorms, taking Midoriya to the infirmary for rest and evaluations, leaving Shouta with his husband and the school principal. Shouta almost fell against Hizashi’s side, but the blonde caught him easily.
“Your laptop, Shouta?” Nedzu asked. Shouta gestured to their apartment door, still open across the common room. “Come. Hizashi, please ensure the students all return to their rooms for the night.”
He kissed Shouta’s forehead. “I’ll clean up Midoriya’s room, too. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Thank you, Zashi.”
Shouta followed Nedzu back into his apartment but left the door cracked since he wasn’t all that keen on closed doors right now. Nedzu ordered him to sit down at the dining room table while the chimera went right to his laptop, which was still open to the video. Shouta couldn’t look, didn’t want to listen to it again. Thankfully, Nedzu turned the volume down. He must have watched it three times before joining Shouta at the table with a soft head shake.
“I don’t need to tell you you’re off duty for the next forty-eight hours, do I?”
“No, Nedzu. I know the regulations. But uh - if you don’t mind, I want to be the one to call his mother and inform her.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Shouta.”
“Nedzu, I’m not-”
“No.” The principal cut him off. “You’re not falling apart. But, if we’re both being frank, I’m not risking your hard-won stability. Besides, this news really should come from me.” Once he finished emailing himself the video file, Nedzu snapped Shouta’s laptop shut and handed it back to the tired hero. “Classes are canceled for the week, it’s Thursday anyway.”
“I’ll let them know there was a medical emergency, and if Midoriya wants to say anything more, he can. I’ll have Mina report to Hound Dog since she saw it go down.”
Hizashi walked in with a frowning scrunch to his brows. “I reminded her that this is a matter only Midoriya can express or share if he wants to. She promised to keep it to herself. I wanted to put the cat back in that bag before it got away from us.”
“Thank you, Zashi.”
“Go on, Nedzu. I can handle Shouta for the night.”
“I don’t need handling.” Shouta grumbled. Hizashi crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at the grumbling underground hero. As much as Shouta hated it, the dam finally broke. “Fuck, fine, I’m not in a good headspace. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t want you hiding it from me, Shou.”
“I’ll let you both be for the night.” Nedzu hopped off the chair and headed for the door. “If you need me, you know where to find me. I’ll notify the boy’s mother and we’ll take this one step at a time.”
“Good night, Nedzu.” Hizashi offered. He settled down next to Shouta at the table and they grabbed each other’s hands at the same time, an old habit they used to keep connected to each other. “You’re not alone, Shouta. You got there in time, and you saved him.”
“I didn’t save him. I just elongated his suffering if we can’t fix the root cause.”
“What do you mean? Depression?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not it. In the video, he talked about how the class spoke of quirklessness like a disease or a disability. It’s clear he had a late manifestation, though I’m not sure how late. The bullying he admitted to enduring would make sense.” Shouta sighed. “I won’t stand for any student of mine holding quirkist, bullshit ideals.”
“Do you think it triggered this whole thing?”
“No. I think it was the final straw. I think this is several problems culminating into one nightmare. The way he spoke about All Might makes me want to have a chat with the older number one, and acquaint him with my fists. I think he’s putting far too much pressure on that boy. But, anyway. There’s nothing we can do right now, not at four in the morning.”
“Come on, Shou, let’s get a little sleep. I’ll send out a class group text so they don’t all head to class when they get up.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
~
Shouta woke up alone, which was a bit out of the ordinary, but today he sort of expected it. Hizashi was probably dealing with the students while letting Shouta actually sleep after a traumatic event.
That’s what it was, wasn’t it? A traumatic event. Shouta had stopped his student from overdosing and killing himself. He’d stopped a suicide. He was off duty, not allowed to teach or patrol, for at least forty-eight hours, or until he received clearance medically. He’d have to have a talk with Hound Dog, too.
Shouta sat up and rubbed his hands over his face to try and ease the sleep out of his eyes.
He’d made it in time. He’d saved Midoriya. This time, he wasn’t too late. But was that because he moved fast enough or because the kid couldn’t open the bottle? Maybe he’d never know. Maybe it didn’t matter, only that it worked out, and Shouta’s student, his kid, his Problem Child, was alive, and safe.
Hizashi appeared in the doorway and leaned on the frame, a soft, yet sad smile on his face. Shouta really didn’t want to get up, but he knew he had a job to do. His students would have questions that they’d need to field, and he wanted to check on Midoriya.
“He’s asking for you.”
Shouta nodded. “The kids?”
“Somber. Unfortunately, Bakugo put two and two together when I said ‘medical incident’ but wouldn’t specify. Since there was no villain attack…” Hizashi threw his hands up.
“He figured it had to be self-inflicted.”
“Yeah. They grew up together, right?” Shouta nodded. “I think he knows more about Midoriya’s mental health than he lets on. He snapped at the class just now, about them talking shit on quirkless people.”
“I’ll talk to him later. Or maybe you should. I don’t know if I have patience for him right now. I need to check on Midoriya.”
“Mm, go on, Shou. I can deal with the kids.”
Shouta picked up Bastard so he could climb out of the bed. Hizashi turned to leave, but stopped, which got Shouta’s attention again.
“Nedzu spoke with Midoriya’s mom.”
“What’s with that tone?”
Hizashi cleared his throat. “She said her son could either get over it, or next time, we shouldn’t stop him.”
“What the fuck?”
“Nedzu is looking into her, but, due to the boy’s previous quirklessness, there may not be much we can do. Still, he’s trying.”
“Mmm, alright.”
If Shouta allowed himself to dwell on the mother’s quirkism and blatant negligence, he’d lose his damn mind, and likely raise hell before he had a right to, and that would only get them in trouble. Plus, being angry right now wouldn’t help him when he wanted to go check on Izuku. So, he set Bastard back on the bed, and went to grab a shower and get ready.
Shouta stopped in at Recover Girl’s office before heading into the infirmary. She was filling out a ton of paperwork, her glasses nearly slipping off her nose, and an annoyed scrunch to her forehead. Shouta settled into the chair in front of her, hands tucked in his coat pockets, and waited for her to notice him. It didn’t take long but she didn’t look up or stop when she spoke.
“Do I need to have Inui give you a risk assessment?”
Shouta rolled his eyes, even if she didn’t see it. “I’m fine, Chiyo.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Her pen smacked onto the desk. “We are far beyond giving each other bullshit. Don’t treat me like a friend. I pulled you from cliffs damn near like what you did for that kid this morning, so don’t you dare give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. Talk.”
She was right. As much as Shouta hated it, she was right. Hizashi was his husband and loved him and supported him, and deserved Shouta’s honesty, and he’d done far more than enough to earn it. Chiyo on the other hand? She’d become a pseudo-mother over the years. She’d held his hair back while he vomited into trash cans and toilets. She held his hand after she’d pumped his stomach and talked to him until he was put into a coma. She worked him back to health, and that was not an easy fucking road.
Chiyo worried about him like a mother, because she was a second mother to him, in a way. His own mother, though not abusive, had been far too busy with her job to worry about her adult son ruining his life. She could have been there, should have, but instead, Chiyo had been the kindness to push him forward, and the cane smacking his ankles when he tripped.
“It hasn’t hit me yet, Chiyo-obasan. It will, and I’m not sure how bad I’m going to crash, but I know I have a support network. I won’t hide it. I told Zashi this morning I’m not in a good headspace. I still am. I woke up from a nightmare this morning before it happened. Damn near clawed my own skin off and then that-” He sighed. “I feel like a foreigner inside my own body.”
“I’ll have Inui meet you after you speak with Midoriya. He’s been asking for you.”
“Hizashi mentioned that. He’s verbal?”
“Not yet. He fingerspelled your name. He hasn’t spoken yet. Inui tried to get through to him but he just spelled your name again and rolled over. He’s been lightly medicated and loosely restrained. He nodded when I explained why. We all know he could easily break the restraints, even sedated, but I don’t think he will. I think he wants help.”
“That’s a good start.”
“Go. Nedzu sent over the paperwork you’ll need to fill out later. I’ll leave it for you to grab when you leave.”
“Thanks, Chiyo.”
“Mhm.”
Midoriya was sitting up in bed when Shouta walked into the infirmary. He was the only student out of six beds. The lights were dimmed, it was still early morning. Izuku was watching the sunrise through the bay windows at the far end of the room. Shouta sat down in the chair next to the kid’s bed and inspected him closer. The restraints were loose but he seemed comfortable enough. There was tension in his clenched fists but Shouta wasn’t sure what caused it, hopefully not him being here.
Shouta didn’t make an effort to disturb the kid’s sunrise observation. He sat there silently, and watched it with his student. He really should take life a bit slower sometimes, it might do him some good. The teen’s deep sigh a few moments later pulled his eyes away from the window. Izuku was staring at him with furrowed brows. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked, likely from his earlier screams.
“Why did you stop me?”
If Shouta had not known the outcome of Nedzu’s call to Inko Midoriya, he might have found that question completely out of pocket. Now? It sounded horrifically sane, and that scared him. Instead of answering Izuku right away, he opened his coat and pulled Bastard, the old black cat, out of the inner pocket. The feline was set on the bed and immediately curled up in Izuku’s lap, much to the teen’s confusion. Then, the older hero told his story.
“When I was your age, my best friend died in a training accident on campus here. I wasn’t fast enough to save him. I thought if I worked harder, did better, then I’d be able to save everyone. It drove me insane, I think.” Shouta scoffed at himself. “When I graduated and became a pro-hero, I learned that being human means sometimes we’re just not fast enough, sometimes we can’t save everyone, or anyone. I spiraled.”
Shouta brushed a hand over the top of his head to pull his hair from his face. Izuku stared at the cat in his lap, conflicted over petting it. In the end, he ran his fingers across the feline’s head, as much as his long restraints would allow, anyway.
“I’m six years sober.” The kid’s eyes flicked up to him. “Alcohol was my crutch for a long time, but once, I downed a bottle of pills after I failed to pull survivors from a fire fast enough. Chiyo- Recovery Girl- she held my hair back after they pumped my stomach in this very room and put me in a three day coma to recover. I was so strung out I was teetering between alcohol poisoning and death.”
“You said you understood…you meant it.”
“Kid, death and I have been scandalously intimate for some time now.” Shouta chuckled dryly.
“Cigarettes.”
“Huh?”
“My ‘crutch’ as you put it.” The teen frowned, rubbing a hand along his thigh. “And uhh-”
“Ah.”
Midoriya frowned. “Yeah. It wasn’t so bad at first. I could control it. I could manage it. I was fine with just a little bit, just a few little cuts, a rubber band, whatever. It was fine. But it just kept…spiraling.”
“As much as people want to claim that self-harm is attention seeking behavior, they fail to realize it’s just as much an addiction as alcohol or drugs. It releases endorphins in your brain, it’s like a shot of electricity made of pure euphoria.” Shouta shrugged as the kid gave him a knowing look. “I experimented. Alcohol stuck, blades never satisfied my itch completely. The point is - if you don’t treat mental health issues like medical problems, you’ll never cure them. Addiction isn’t a social issue, it’s a symptom of a greater mental health issue.”
“My mom always told me I was weak. She tossed me a pack of cigarettes one day and told me to use those instead of her good knives. I thought she meant burns. I didn't like the feeling, so I smoked them instead. It did help, a little. Distracted me, kept my hands busy. Maybe that’s why I never went too far.”
“Can I ask you something, kid?” Midoriya nodded. “Why did you decide on pills, instead of a blade?”
Mdoriya shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I just…wanted to fall asleep, and not wake up.”
“Mmmm…”
“Sensei? Do you think there’s hope for people like us?”
Shouta leaned forward to rest one arm on his thigh and reach for Bastard with the other. The feline purred softly and reached out its paws to play with Shouta’s fingers. He rolled onto his back and let Izuku rub his belly, which made the teen smile.
“I believe that it takes more strength than people know to try and end your life. Strength like that can be redirected . You aren’t weak. I have seen how strong you are, kid.”
“Yeah but- how hard is it for you to resist? Wouldn’t it just be easier to pull a bottle off the shelf and go back to drinking?”
Shouta actually laughed. “Yeah. It would be a hell of a lot fucking easier. But honestly, being able to say no, and mean it, that’s what makes it worth it. I have to say no about fourteen times each morning, one for every step it takes to get from my bed to the fridge. That’s not weak, kid. That takes more strength than some people will ever experience in their whole lives.”
Midoriya thought over his words for a while as he played with the cat in his lap. Bastard eventually started snoozing, so Izuku swapped to gently running hands down the feline’s coat or giving him head scratches. Shouta waited, patiently, for the teen to find his words.
“Can you teach me to say no, Sensei? I want to be strong- stronger than I am now. I don’t know where to start.”
“Do you still want to die?” There was no point in shying away from the question, not after everything they’d just revealed to each other. Might as well rip the bandage off. This was the most important question, and Shouta needed an answer to this in order to provide Midoriya with one.
“I’m not sure. But I think I’d like to wake up the next time I fall asleep. I think I’d like a better crutch, a safer one.”
“So that’s where we’ll start. Better crutches, and talking.” Izuku rolled his eyes. “I know. I hate it too. But it helps. Even if Chiyo sometimes has to smack my ankles to get me to open up.” Shouta smirked into his capture scarf when his Problem Child laughed, for real this time.
“Thanks, Sensei. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I’m just glad, for once, my sleepless nights paid off.”
“So am I.”