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U.A High was completely different from anything Izuku had ever experienced.
There were the obvious factors, like being a top hero school where people used their quirks freely and where fighting giant robots was an ingrained part of the curriculum. The training camps and the field trips were expensive, well-prepared and marked with quality. U.A's long history, experience and attention to detail were visible in every part of the school, from the quality school lunches to the impressive line up of teachers. What other school could boast with an underground pro hero as their Ethics teacher, especially one as established and competent as Eraserhead?
But as excited as Izuku had been over those factors, there were far more important, more pressing differences to him.
No matter what reputation a school had boasted with, it hadn't made a difference in Izuku's case, after all. In his experience all schools, all teachers and all classmates were the same. The names, rules and appearances may change, but Izuku had been to enough schools to know they were all the same in the end. Because all schools, no matter how proudly they bragged about their diverse student body, were the same.
No matter how old he was or what school he went to, he spent the entire time being pushed around. He was shoved into desks, hands gripping his hair and beating his head against the stone walls. He was kicked, beaten, stepped on and spat upon. His breaks were spent cowering in corners hoping not to be spotted and walks home were spent running to escape his pursuers. He couldn't count the times when he hadn't been fast enough, hadn't been aware enough of his surroundings, and had paid for it lying in the dirt as the bullies unleashed their wrath on him.
The pranks they would play on him, leaving him terrified of opening his locker at the end of every day in fear of what he would find. When his red sneakers were stolen and he had ended up looking through the entire school until he finally found them on the school rooftop, standing neatly on the edge. The suicide notes taped to his desk, pre-written with only his signature missing from them. The spider lilies waiting innocently on his desk one morning when he arrived.
The teachers who smirked at him, the corners of their mouths lifting in sadistic satisfaction that the trash was being treated as it should be. The blind eyes turned towards how he was treated, only telling him to hurry up instead of wasting their time as he cleared away the flowers or the insults on his desk. The ones who encouraged it or joined in, who handed back assignments with insults instead of grades, who punished him for things that weren't his fault.
The sound of a marker being uncapped still made him shiver, remembering all the times he had had things written across his assignments, his desk, his face.
Unevolved, loser, worthless.
Quirkless.
Deku.
As much as he told himself he would be prepared if U.A High was the same, that he wouldn't be disappointed or angry, because he knew what to expect... he still hoped U.A would be different.
The beginning was the most difficult. He spent far too long just sitting in the classroom, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He steeled himself for the violence, the insults, the teachers' smirks. With a silent glance he watched as the class divided itself up into groups, how they gravitated towards one another, and seamlessly found their friends-to-be.
He was shocked when Uraraka and Iida seemed to gravitate to him, how they both seemed to just decide that he was theirs now. The two of them acted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if he belonged with them and had done so since the beginning. For a while he waited to be told that he had been chosen to do Uraraka's homework for her, or that Iida had decided he needed a punching bag for quirk practise. But... neither of that happened. Uraraka kept praising him for his smarts, but never pushed her work onto him. Iida brought him for training sessions, but only regular jogs. Yet they both acted as if they wanted him there, as if he was worth something.
Not even his muttering was punished!
And as time went on, Izuku slowly let his guard down. It took time for him to get through every instinct that made him want to run after class, but after a while he came to see the hallways as just empty spaces rather than threats. He didn't tense up as much every time someone grabbed his arm or touched his back, even if hands on his shoulders still made him freeze for a second. It took a lot longer for him to stop trembling when the gaze of teachers would go over him, but after enough assignments returned without being defaced or given automatic 0s he slowly began to relax. The first time Yamada marked his work with a "good job!" and a smiley Izuku burst into tears.
It took a long time, but ever so slowly Izuku settled into the idea that he was tolerated at U.A High. Maybe not accepted, and never liked, but tolerated.
It was truly amazing, the difference having a quirk made.
Thanks to that, it was with a minimum level of anxiety that Izuku sat in his seat during homeroom. Aizawa was going through the last parts of the announcements for the day, reminding the class of the upcoming summer training camp. Izuku scribbled in his notebook, quietly hoping the training camp would go better than the last time the class had left the campus. While he had enjoyed going to the mall with his friends, it had ended on a rather difficult note. He could still almost feel the squeeze of Shigaraki's fingers against his throat. Apparently Aizawa was of the same mind, as he concluded the announcements with a reminder to stay safe when off-campus.
"... and while I know you all are looking forward to the summer break, remember to stay safe when not on campus. People know what you look like, they know you go to U.A, so you have to be extra careful when out and about. At least try to avoid trouble."
His gaze swept over the class before it moved to Izuku.
"That goes double for you, Problem Child."
Izuku's head snapped up from his notebook, finding himself under the heavy scrutiny of his homeroom teacher. Aizawa was giving him a stern, unimpressed look, arms crossed over his chest. Izuku's breath hitched as his throat closed up, suddenly unable to breathe. There was a loud ringing that sounded through his ears, nearly as bad as when Bakugou set off explosions a bit too close to his ears, but through it he could still hear the giggles that went through the classroom. His hand was trembling, fingers slowly squeezing around the pen.
It was only when Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him in a silent challenge that Izuku realized that he was still staring at his teacher, still meeting that hard gaze. He quickly tore his gaze away, his breath trembling in fear as he cursed at himself in his head.
In his experience, there were three different types of teachers. The watchers, the blind, and the active. The watchers would make sure they had a front row seat to his pain, their cold eyes staring him down. They knew Izuku existed, and they enjoyed seeing him suffer for it. The blind pretended he didn't exist, ignoring him so they could pretend they weren't stuck with a quirkless waste of space in their classroom. They would "forget" to collect his assignments or grade his work, not wanting to touch what he timidly offered. The active, on the other hand, were never satisfied just knowing he existed and was suffering for it. They would direct the students his way, would scribble insults over his assignments and would set off confrontations between him and his classmates.
The rules for how to survive the teachers were different depending on what camp they landed in, which made it incredibly important to know what type they were. His old homeroom teacher had been firmly in the "active" camp. Whenever one of the students started talking about getting into U.A High or any of the other hero schools, the teacher would casually point out Izuku's dream of going to U.A High and enjoy the chaos of the students picking Izuku apart for daring to dream. He would slap him in the back of the head or over the knuckles with a ruler as discipline, even when Izuku hadn't even done anything. He was also the one who would most often take the cap off a marker and then "forget" it on his desk.
Teachers like that often got a power-high from the bullying, and took the slightest hint of back-talk as a personal insult. Looking a teacher like that in the eyes for a prolonged time was a death sentence, as they often saw that as a challenge of their authority.
Aizawa had been difficult to get a read on, mostly because the teacher acted like teaching was a chore he was saddled with. At first Izuku had put him down as blind, since he complained whenever he had to do anything to keep the class under control. But he never hesitated to step in, even when he acted like he hated every second of it, and his gaze was heavy and everywhere. Even when he sat in his sleeping bag in the corner, eyes closed and snoring quietly, it felt like he was acutely aware of what was happening in the classroom. So, Izuku had instead classified him as a watcher.
But this? The comment that singled him out, the demeaning nickname, the clear frustration at Izuku's continued existence? It could only mean one thing. Aizawa wasn't a watcher. He was active. And Izuku had just stared him straight in the eyes for a prolonged period of time, directly after Aizawa had made a comment to remind him of his place. Panic made his chest seize up. He was dead, he was so, so dead. There was no way in hell Aizawa was going to let that slide, the man would make him pay for it.
Izuku could barely breathe as he curled in on himself, head ducked down so any punches wouldn't land on his eyes, arms up to protect his ribs from the kicks he was inevitably going to get.
"Midoriya."
Izuku flinched at the call of his name, the proof that his insolence hadn't gone unnoticed. He fucked up, he had done something teachers thought was a challenge, and now he would pay the price for it.
He didn't even realise he was moving until his back hit the wall, his legs coming up to protect his stomach. Fear blurred his vision and closed up his throat. The apologies piled up in his throat until he couldn't breathe around them, but they also refused to budge to actually spill over his lips. Not that they mattered. They had never stopped rough hands before, and they probably wouldn't stop Aizawa's capture scarf. He wished he could hide somewhere until Aizawa forgot he existed, but he already knew he wouldn't be able to hide from a pro underground hero. No matter where he went or how much he apologized, Aizawa would make sure Izuku never forgot his place again.
A shadow fell over his desk, announcing the presence of his teacher, and Izuku's heart couldn't decide between beating out of his chest or stopping. Without thinking he did the one thing he could think of to show that he was sorry and would accept his punishment. His hands trembled as he held them out, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to steel himself for the pain about to be inflicted on him. Pain he had gotten a brief reprieve from during the last couple months, but that would now begin once again.
The shaking started when that reality settled over him. He couldn't escape, couldn't hide. After today he'd go back to the usual bullying, ostracised, pushed around and suicide baited. Last semester he wouldn't have batted an eye at it, too used to the treatment from Aldera. But it was all so much worse now, after a few months of good treatment. Now he would be stuck knowing how good it could have been.
It was just too cruel.
---
Aizawa Shouta liked to imagine he was pretty good at his job. He might complain about his Hellspawn, and he was certain this latest batch would make him grey pre-maturely, but he did actually enjoy teaching. There was simply something fulfilling about shaping future heroes from naive kids to people who could hold their own against villains and catastrophes. Helping his students overcome their limits and find ways around their weaknesses, getting them prepared for the dangerous and important job they all strived for.
While a lot of his colleagues teased him for his stern approach to his students and his expulsion rates, they knew he was only doing what he thought was best for them. Shouta wouldn't allow a student to graduate if it would end with them dead six months later, or if their presence on the field would cause others to die. He might be stern and cold-hearted, but he cared. He cared for his students, cared for the civilians heroes were supposed to protect, cared for his colleagues that would end up working with his students one day. If his students would cause more harm than good, then they were out of the school. He didn't care if they hated him for it, they would be alive to hate him for it.
So Shouta made a point of learning about his students, getting to know them, figuring them out. It was an important part of his job, after all. Not only to weed out those that wouldn't survive the job, but also so he knew how to better educate them. He knew what made them all tick, and he knew how to make things easier for them.
He knew Jirou sometimes struggled with the noise levels, and let her use headphones to block out the sound during tests. He let Ojirou walk around a bit during classes so he could stretch his tail that would otherwise cramp from sitting still too long. He kept extra snacks in his desk in case Satou's blood sugar crashed and he didn't have any of his own emergency snacks on him. Shoji would sometimes come to him for an extra mask if his own had ripped during training, he had a replacement pair for Iida's glasses in his desk just in case, and he always carried around pads and tampons.
There were still some things he hadn't managed to figure out fully yet, and some problems that he hadn't solved yet. He was still working on his method of "guerilla therapy", as Hound Dog had jokingly called his attempts of introducing ways for Bakugou to keep his temper in check without the student realising he was basically being put through therapy. Yaoyorozu still refused to ever show him anything other than the facade of perfection she put up, the only moments he got closer to her was when something cracked and she was brought so low he could barely do anything to help her. But he was working on all of that. He still felt like he had a handle on the class.
And, up until now, he had thought he had a handle on Midoriya. The kid was reckless, with a hero complex and self-sacrificial tendencies, and as much as Shouta would have to dismantle all of that and remind the kid that he deserved as much help as he always gave to others, Midoriya had still seemed... well, stable wasn't the right word. Keeping it together? Not on the brink of a total mental breakdown? His mentality was a mess, but he at least seemed to have a decent support network and Shouta was fairly confident that he wouldn't do anything too stupid. He was a trouble magnet, for sure, but he wasn't trying to be. Where Bakugou sent out formal invitations to dangerous situations, Midoriya diligently locked his doors only for danger to break in through the window.
Yes, he had issues Shouta would have to deal with and help dismantle, but he wasn't a step away from murder (Iida), a dangerous fool (Bakugou) or Mineta (Mineta). On the list of troubles in his class, Shouta had put Midoriya fairly far down the list.
So when Midoriya suddenly stared at him in terror, like Shouta had just killed his cat, from out of nowhere? It made him pause in confusion. That wasn't a look Midoriya had ever shown him before, and he couldn't figure out what had caused it. All he had said was to stay safe during summer break. What about that could cause Midoriya to freeze like a deer in headlights?
Ah, wait, was this some remnants of the run-in he'd had with Shigaraki? Was this a trauma response? That would explain the glazed look in his eyes, like he was only half in the classroom and the other half was somewhere else. A mall with a hand on his neck, maybe? Well, no matter, Shouta knew how to deal with trauma-induced panic attacks.
"Midoriya", he called, trying to remind the kid where he was. Give him an anchor to reality, something to tether him to the classroom. He wasn't prepared for the full body flinch the name caused, nor for the way Midoriya hunched in on himself, trying to make himself smaller and less of a target. He watched in stunned amazement as Midoriya ducked his head to protect his throat, his arms up to protect his ribs, and how he scrambled to put his back against the wall to minimize the potential directions of threats.
That was too much. That was a defensive reflex, one of pro heroes who knew how to keep themselves safe in dangerous situations. That much couldn't come from one interaction with a villain, even one as dangerous as Shigaraki. Those sorts of reflexes took years of training and battles.
Years Midoriya shouldn't have.
"Midoriya", Shouta called again, this time in a gentler tone. It was clear that the kid felt like he was in danger, and Shouta needed to remind him he was safe. He was in his classroom, with his class of friends and a teacher that would protect him. He needed to remember where he was, that he was safe here. Shouta moved down the rows of desks towards Midoriya, hoping his presence would remind the kid he was safe.
He stopped as Midoriya scrambled backwards, pressing himself harder against the wall. His shoulders were shaking now, breath short and fast, on the edge of hyperventilation. With a start Shouta realised that his presence didn't calm the kid, but was actively making it worse. The theory seemed to be confirmed when he took a step back and Midoriya's panic stayed the same. It wasn't better, but it wasn't worse, and at this point Shouta would take what he could get. Maybe Midoriya didn't want people close at the moment, or perhaps Shouta's height brought back memories of someone else towering over him?
Then Midoriya suddenly held his hands out. Palms down, hands pressed together side by side, held out in an offer Shouta didn't understand. That wasn't... that wasn't something a person with a panic attack did. That was something Shouta had only seen in victims of prolonged abuse, the people who looked at him with the expectation that he would be another abuser rather than a rescue. This was a trauma response. In the middle of class. Fuck.
"Class dismissed", he said, not taking his eyes off Midoriya's shaking form. "Everyone out."
"But sensei-" Uraraka tried.
"Midoriya, you okay?" Todoroki asked, leaning closer to his friend.
"Out!" Shouta snapped at them. He regretted his harsh tone when he saw the way it made Midoriya tremble even more, but this wasn't the time for his students to question him. It wasn't right for a panic attack to be put on display like this, and he would preserve as much of his student's dignity as possible.
The rest of the class, bless and curse them, slowly gathered their stuff. They were clearly worried for their classmate, unwilling to leave him behind like this, but Shouta needed them gone yesterday.
"Do not make me repeat myself again. Out", he snarled, and finally the class seemed to decide that he knew best, and quickly shuffled out of the classroom. Todoroki and Uraraka lingered in the doorway, but one sharp glare was all it took for them to step out fully and close the door behind them. Leaving only Shouta and his panicking student.
Midoriya was trembling even worse, his eyes darting over the empty classroom. For a second they got a glossy sheen as he realised he was left alone with his teacher, then he quickly squeezed his eyes shut. His mouth was moving, but there were no words coming over his lips. His hands trembled like crazy, but they stayed in position in the air.
"Midoriya", Shouta said again, pitching his voice low and gentle, like he was talking to a scared kitten. He made sure to keep his distance, standing a few desks away from the kid.
After a moment of watching the way Midoriya seemed to shrink away from him even when he was standing a bit away, Shouta sent a quick prayer to his poor knees and slowly lowered himself into a crouch. It got him down a bit so he wasn't towering over the poor kid, and hopefully made him seem like less of a threat. Midoriya was still trembling, but he did dare to send a quick glance towards Shouta before he squeezed his eyes shut again.
"Kid, can you hear me?" Shouta asked, making sure his voice was low and soft. "Nod if you hear me."
The reply was instant, a short jerk of a nod, but the shaking became even worse. Well, at least the kid wasn't disassociating. Shouta would take what he could get.
"Good, that's good. Can you breathe for me? Here, follow my lead. Deep breath in, one, two, three, four... deep breath out, one, two, three, four... That's it, keep doing that. Deep breath in, one, two, three, four..."
Midoriya, diligent and obedient as ever, was quick to do as he was told. He struggled with the breathing, his breaths faltering before Shouta made it to his count of four, but he was trying. After a moment his breathing evened out a little, at least so he wasn't on the edge of hyperventilating anymore. His hands lowered down into his lap. Shouta was finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel of this panic attack. At least until Midoriya's lips moved again.
"S-so-sorry", he stammered, barely able to push the word out. "So-sorr-sorry, se-sen-sei..."
"Kid, what are you apologizing for?" Shouta exhaled in exasperation. What person apologized while in the middle of a panic attack?
But that was apparently the wrong thing to ask, because as soon as Shouta asked the question the panic attack kicked right back up in speed. The trembling before had nothing on what Midoriya did now, quickly curling up in a small ball on the chair to make himself smaller. Once more his hands were held out, shaking as he tried to hold them out towards Shouta. His lips trembled, teeth chattering together as he struggled to voice his turbulent thoughts.
"I'm so-sor-sorry, I didn't- didn't, mean to, I-I swear, I did-didn't mean to, I'm so, so-so-sorry, pl-please s-s-s-sen- sensei..."
"Alright", Shouta said, quickly cutting the apologies off. "Listen, Midoriya- can I call you Izuku, just for now?"
Another sharp, jerky nod, given so quickly the question was barely out of Shouta's mouth before it was answered. For some reason Shouta doubted it was because Midoriya really wanted to be called by his given name at the moment, and more that he was used to nod at every question he was given in whatever hellscape the kid's mind had gone to. Whatever it was that had caused this, Midoriya had clearly learned the hard way that all requests were to be answered with "yes" in these moments. It felt a bit manipulative to get permission to use his given name in a moment when Midoriya clearly couldn't think the question through properly, but Shouta had learned from taking care of traumatized kids in his work that given names made the soothing words feel genuine. As if the intimate use of a given name gave the kids an easier time to trick themselves into thinking the man who spoke to them was someone else, an adult they trusted, rather than a stranger. It helped them escape the situation they were in, if only for a moment.
"Izuku", Shouta coaxed, still trying to keep his voice low and gentle. "Calm down, kid. You have nothing to be sorry for. Everything's okay."
"N-no, no, I'm so-sorr..." there was a slight hiccup as the tears finally began dripping down his cheeks. "I-I sw-swear, sensei, I didn't-didn't mean to, I'll be-be better from now on, I'll be go-good, so pl-please..."
"Breathe, Izuku, everything's fine."
"I didn't mean- didn't mean to..."
"It's okay." Shouta slowly moved forward, still keeping his position low so he wouldn't spook the kid, but now slowly making his way closer. Midoriya's breath hitched when he noticed, but he didn't seem to panic further than that, so Shouta continued his slow approach.
After a few moments he was finally able to put his hand on Midoriya's chair, close to where his feet had been pulled up on the seat, but not actually touching the kid. While Midoriya didn't seem to fully trust the hand so close to him he seemed somewhat mollified by the way Shouta was staying low to the ground.
"Izuku", Shouta said gently. "Everything's fine, okay? You're safe here."
Midoriya harshly shook his head.
"N-N-No-o", he stuttered, the panic making his voice tremble.
"I promise, you're safe. Kid, can you breathe for me again? Here, follow my lead-"
"No-no, not s-safe."
Midoriya was trembling even harder. Finally his hands left position, but now they were instead going up so he could bury his fingers in his hair. He sobbed, loudly, a heartwrenching sob that no kid should be able to make. Shouta's heart clenched as Midoriya's attack seemed to get even worse, building up and up until Shouta became worried about the kid accidentally hurting himself. His fingers tore at his hair, his voice a whisper as his fears spilled out of him.
"How could I ever think, stupid, stupid, terrible, worthless, useless, useless, useless, why, why, how could I be so dumb, so worthless, such a Deku, why..."
"Izuku!" Shouta called, trying to break through the self-deprecating stream, his voice going up into something a bit too sharp. He cursed at himself for losing control when he saw how Midoriya immediately sobbed harder at his tone.
"Izuku", he tried again, gentler this time. "Listen to me, focus on my voice. You're at U.A, you're in the classroom at U.A. I'm your teacher, Aizawa. We were having the last homeroom of the day. You're in the classroom, in the most secure school in Japan, nothing can hurt you."
Usually this helped to ground the kids in reality, to escape whatever panicked nightmare their minds had conjured and focus on what was going on around them. But for some reason all Midoriya did was shake his head.
"Not safe, not safe, not safe", he repeated like a quiet mantra, no matter how Shouta tried to reassure him.
There was something here. Something Shouta wasn't getting, something that had triggered such a severe reaction, something that was still an issue. Whatever had triggered this was still unresolved, and Midoriya couldn't come back to reality because that reality didn't feel safe to him. But how the hell was he supposed to punt said trigger into the sun if he didn't know what it was?
Fuck, this might backfire really bad, but Shouta didn't know what else to do.
"Izuku, what...", he paused, uncertain how to form his question. "Why aren't you safe?"
The look of utter despair and torture that Midoriya gave him, the betrayal at the question written across his face, was enough to shatter Shouta's heart. But even though it seemed equated to pulling teeth to the boy, Midoriya still answered him, like the obedient kid he was.
"Sc-Scho-Schoo-ool..."
What the fuck?... Did Midoriya feel unsafe because he was at school? No wonder the kid was panicking when Shouta tried to remind him where he was. He could unpack how horrible it was that Midoriya was so terrified of being at school later, for now he needed to get the kid calm. Clearly being in a classroom wasn't helping, but where could Shouta take him where he felt safer?
Maybe the teacher's lounge would work? If Shouta could just get the kid into the very comfortable nap couch there, this panic attack should go away. If he rolled over so he was facing the back of the couch then he should be able to forget that he was in a school.
There was also Shouta's private office, but it was further away and something told him that Izuku would not appreciate being put into a small space at the moment. The open space of the lounge was probably better suited for this.
Fuck it, the lounge was the best option Shouta had. He pulled out his phone and fired off a text to Hizashi.
*Kid with panic attack. Empty teacher's lounge.*
He received a thumbs up in response just a moment later, and Shouta couldn't help but smile. Hizashi knew when things were serious, and always made sure to help out when needed. The teacher's lounge was probably already empty, thanks to Hizashi. He knew from experience Hizashi wasn't afraid to use his quirk in moments like these, and the loud blonde had probably even climbed up on his desk to get everyone's attention. Now, for the hard part...
"Izuku", he said, calling on the kid's attention as he pocketed his phone. "You have to come with me and-"
"No!" Midoriya gasped. "No, no, sen-sensei, I'm sorry, pl-please, I'll- I-I- better, be bet-better, I'm sorry, please, I'm so, so sorry, it won't ha-happen again, sensei, plea-please!"
Shouta blinked, confused about the sudden increase in apologies. He slowly sat back a bit, head swimming with questions. Why was he acting as if going somewhere with a teacher was a death sentence? What had happened in Midoriya's life to cause this? How could even a slight hint of disapproval from a teacher send him into panic like this? How was a teacher's displeasure worse for Midoriya than the villains he fearlessly faced down?
Oh. Oh, fuck.
Shouta was a teacher.
Midoriya was scared of teachers.
Whatever had happened, Midoriya was scared it was going to happen again because he was stuck with a teacher. Shouta was the reason he was panicking. He could feel anger start to brew in his chest, burning and rumbling, at the thought of what the kid's previous teachers must have done to cause this sort of reaction. This was a kid, a child, and he was trembling in panic at the very thought that Shouta was angry at him. Promising to be better, apologizing for things that weren't his fault, calling himself stupid and worthless as if... as if he thought he had to prove he "understood". Was that the reason he held out his hands like that, too? Was he expecting a punishment?
Shouta had to swallow to ease up the tangle of rage that steadily worked itself up his throat, and instead kept his voice gentle when he spoke.
"You're not in trouble. I promise, everything's okay. You've done nothing wrong. We just need to leave the classroom, okay? I promise, that's all."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, pl-please, I'm so-sorry..."
"It's okay, Izuku, you haven't done anything wrong. You're not in trouble. Come on, can you stand for me?"
Was Shouta taking advantage of how obedience seemed to almost be trained into Midoriya? Perhaps, but he didn't have the time to feel bad about it. The longer Midoriya stayed in the classroom the more his panic would worsen. Shouta had to get him out of the classroom, by any means necessary, and compared to just lifting Midoriya up and sprinting down the hall this seemed like the lesser of two evils.
Just as he'd been told, Midoriya unravelled his body. It went slow, his limbs seeming heavy and uncoordinated as he struggled to control them long enough to stand up. But despite how his eyes remained glossy or how he still struggled to breathe, he was soon standing by his desk. He had his eyes firmly trained on the ground, tears pouring down his face in a steady stream, and he trembled like he still wanted to curl himself up in a ball. But he was standing.
"Good", Shouta praised, and tried to ignore the way Midoriya flinched at his voice. "Good, Izuku, you did great. Okay, let's go. We're just leaving the classroom and heading to the lounge."
Ever so slowly he stood up, trying to ignore the way his knees popped as he did so. Midoriya's trembling worsened when Shouta stood up to his full height again, but he remained rooted to the spot. Despite how he clearly wanted to curl up under his desk, he stood perfectly still and just seemed to wait for Shouta to do something to him.
"Come on, kid", Shouta said, making sure that his voice was as soft as possible. He turned to lead Midoriya away, and made a point of not looking over at his student to give him some space and some semblance of peace. He heard the way Midoriya still shuffled after him, obedient as ever.
The walk to the lounge felt like the longest it had ever been. Usually it was just a couple minutes, but now it was an eternity between the classroom and the lounge. Every sniffle behind him broke his heart a little further, and every second he was worried someone would step out into the hallway and he would have to divert their attention from Midoriya. Even worse was the way he could almost taste how absolutely terrified Midoriya was of him, the fear thick and heavy in the air, as if Shouta was leading him to his execution. He shuffled behind like a man marked for death but without the strength to fight it. While Shouta did try to instill a healthy dose of fear in his students, just so they would take him and his lessons seriously, this was far, far beyond anything he wanted from a student.
It was a relief to finally see Hizashi, who was leaning against the door to the lounge. He was carefully relaxed, arms crossed over his chest and leaned back as he simply hummed to himself. But the way he glanced up and down the hallway told Shouta that he'd been acting as a bouncer to make sure the lounge stayed empty until Shouta arrived. As soon as Hizashi set eyes on him he gave Shouta a smile and a thumbs up before sauntering down the hallway in the opposite direction. Making sure that the kid wasn't overwhelmed by the presence of another teacher, and that the student didn't feel embarrassed by having their panic witnessed by more people. Shouta hid a smile in his capture scarf. Hizashi really could be great when he wanted to be.
Shouta opened the door to the lounge and showed Midoriya inside. Without saying anything he led him towards the nap couch that Shouta had demanded from Nedzu. The couch was comfortable, soft and with the perfect amount of firmness. It was perfect, not only for naps but panic attacks.
He set Midoriya down on it, carefully not taking note of the frightened glances the student threw at him when he thought he didn't notice. Instead he directed Midoriya to lie down on the couch, and then unceremoniously flipped him so he was lying on his side, facing the backrest, rather than the lounge. Midoriya immediately froze, muscles tense as he clutched his arms, eyes squeezed shut. He remained like that, terrified of what was about to happen next, until Shouta put down a blanket on top of him. He startled at that, glancing up at Shouta for a moment before quickly averting his eyes again.
"There you go, Izuku", Shouta said, gently patting Midoriya's shoulder. "Try to relax, and focus on your breathing, okay? You're safe here, I promise. Nothing's gonna hurt you."
When Midoriya shivered this time, Shouta tucked the blanket in a little better around him. After that he sat down in the bean bag next to the couch. Far away enough that he wouldn't seem like a threat, but close enough that Midoriya knew where he was. The best part about it was that when he sat in it, he sank down enough that he was beneath Midoriya's eye level. When Midoriya glanced up to see where he was, he looked down on Shouta rather than up. He wasn't towering over the kid.
Ever so slowly Midoriya seemed to realize that nothing more was going to happen, that he was just supposed to lie on the couch and relax. His shoulders dropped minutely, his breathing grew a bit more even, and even though he kept sobbing he seemed to slowly relax. One thing about panic attacks was that they always ended. The body simply couldn't handle keeping up that level of panic for an indefinite amount of time. All Shouta had to do was wait and eventually it ended.
As he waited, Shouta pondered the weird case that was Midoriya. He went over everything in his head, all the signs Midoriya had shown during his panic attack, and then tried to find other signs from earlier in the year. He tried to remember if Midoriya had ever cowered like that before him or another teacher before, if he had always been so scared in the classroom.
Now, Shouta had always known Midoriya didn't trust teachers. He was a sweet, straightlaced, A-student who always did his best and followed the rules. But he didn't trust teachers. Where other students would ask for help in understanding the material, Midoriya would just force himself through it until he understood it. The class would sometimes moan and complain to him, but Midoriya never voiced a single disagreement with anything. Hell, most of them had even come to Shouta and carefully asked for the accommodations he had tailored for them. Jirou had asked him to be able to listen to music, Ojiro had asked for permission to walk around and stretch his tail, and none of the girls were ever shy to ask him for pads or tampons. Not Midoriya.
Before this, Shouta had chalked it up to a side effect of Midoriya's confusing need to prove himself. For a kid with a powerful quirk that should have just coasted through life, Midoriya seemed convinced that he was one mistake away from being deemed unworthy to remain at the school. That the mistrust of teachers was just that he was worried of making mistakes in front of them, of looking weak. Something similar to Yaoyorozu. Now, when Shouta looked back at it, he saw a different, rather concerning pattern.
Midoriya never voiced anything, never showing he needed anything, and simply powered through what he had issues with. Not just with teachers, but the class as a whole. He was good at working with others and he was always helpful, but he never asked for anything and never shared anything.
Shouta was slowly coming to the grim understanding that no matter what problems Midoriya had, he would never have voiced them. If he had had Ojiro's tail he would have sat completely still and ignored his aches. If he had had Jirou's noise sensitivity he would have suffered through it. If he had had a period he would most likely rather bleed through his uniform than ask for a pad. Shouta didn't know what the triggers were, because Midoriya never felt safe enough to share them.
Which led to the question of why. Why didn't the kid feel safe enough to share things, either with adults or his classmates? What could have made him feel such panic at the mere idea of a teacher showing a hint of discontent? What made him this closed off, terrified and quiet? When he flinched and trembled, when he offered up his hands, had he... had he believed Shouta would hit him?
After a long while of Shouta pondering the terrifying puzzle that was Midoriya Izuku, and sending a quick update to Hizashi on his phone, Midoriya finally shifted on the couch.
"Um... Aizawa-sensei?" he asked quietly, glancing up between green, muffled curls.
"Yeah?" Shouta glanced up from his phone, and Midoriya quickly ducked his head to avoid his gaze.
"I'm... I'm real-really so-sorry..."
While Shouta did want to ask what the hell the kid thought he had to apologize for (and maybe the names of the people that made him think he had to apologize so he could have a friendly chat with them), he had learned from his mistakes. Asking that was a one-way ticket to another panic attack.
"Nothing to apologize for", he said instead. "Feeling better?"
"Y... Yes", Midoriya mumbled, the lie undercut somewhat by the sob in the middle of it. Shouta slowly pocketed his phone and shifted slightly in the bean bag so he could look properly at Midoriya. The kid almost hid in the blanket, but managed to stop himself from the childish urge.
"Izuku", Shouta said softly. "You don't have to say you're okay if you're not. Are you feeling better?"
"... I'm not panicking anymore", Izuku settled on, which was technically not a lie, but also skirted around actually saying how he felt. Shouta couldn't help but smile. This timid goody-two-shoes could be such a brat sometimes, which Shouta kind of liked. It was refreshing to see the anxious kid use his smarts every now and then.
"Good to hear", Shouta said instead.
A moment of silence settled over the two of them as Shouta tried to decide how best to handle the next topic he would have to ask. He knew this was going to be a difficult topic, but he needed to approach it anyway. After a moment of struggling with finding a way to approach the question gently, he mentally said "fuck it" and just asked straight.
"Do you know what caused your panic attack?"
Midoriya curled up into a tighter ball on the couch, the blanket clutched tight around him. His shoulders tensed again until they almost touched his ears, as if he was trying to hide in them. A soft sniffle was all the reply he got, as the kid desperately tried to cover the sound of his sobs with his hand.
"I'm only asking so I know how to avoid it in the future", he promised.
"N-n-no-no..."
Shouta's brow furrowed as he noticed how the stuttering was worse. Was it just because the kid was crying or was he about to enter another panic attack? Was Shouta simply asking about his trigger enough to trigger another?
"Kid, I'm not mad at you", he tried. "You're not in trouble. You won't get in trouble for the reason behind it either. The only thing that'll happen if you tell me is I know not to do it again."
Midoriya just shook his head, the sobs now slightly more audible, too much for his hands to hold back.
"I'm sorr-sorry", he whispered. "It was stu-stupid, and I w-was-wasted your ti-time, it wo-won't happen a-ag-again."
Fuck, what had this kid been through that he thought a panic attack was a waste of someone's time?
"Izuku, I need you to listen to me, okay?" He immediately received a nod, obedience still beaten into the kid. "You don't have to apologize for anything. Whatever happened, it wasn't stupid. Could you please tell me?"
Izuku hid even further in his blanket, and Shouta almost felt bad for being so insistent. But he needed to know, to understand, what was happening. The silence dragged on for a bit, only broken by quiet sniffles. Just as he was about to ask again, he heard a small noise from the kid.
"... mad."
"Mad? Did you think I was mad at you?"
"... Y-yes."
Shouta mulled the words over for a moment, settling on how to best approach that information.
"Kid, I've been annoyed at the class plenty of times. It's never sent you into a panic before. Was it something specific this time?"
Midoriya curled up further, tightening himself into a small ball so he didn't take up any space. He kept his eyes firmly on the back of the couch, never giving Shouta as much as a glance. It was almost as if he had to keep his eyes away in order to work up the bravery to say anything, as if he could pretend Shouta either wasn't there or was someone else. It was hardly the first time that had happened, he had dealt with plenty of traumatized kids that had to pretend he was someone else in order to tell him what they'd been through. It just broke his heart a little extra to see that behaviour in his own student.
"Yo-you..." Midoriya had to audibly swallow, clearly terrified Shouta would take the words as an accusation. "...si-singled me out... Th-that, it, um... 's never go-good, when a tea-teacher does that."
Well, that was a red flag if Shouta's ever seen one.
"Is it the attention?" he asked, carefully watching Midoriya's reaction. The kid only fidgeted with the blanket for a moment, gaze firmly turned away so as to not accidentally catch Shouta's eyes. He squirmed a little, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
"Um, is this... is this really nec-necessary, sen-sensei?" he asked, his voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry for... for acting out like that. I promise it won't happen again. I'll just-just go, and stop wasting your ti-time..."
He began pulling the blanket off him, shuffling around to get off the couch as if he was about to bolt out the door. All movement stilled when Shouta placed his hand on top of green curls, Midoriya freezing under the touch. Even his breathing seemed to stop for a moment.
Shouta gave his student a contemplative look. Midoriya was frozen still under his touch, barely daring to breathe, eyes wide and almost glazed over. He still seemed to be at the edge of a panic attack, full of worry and fear. But at the same time... Despite the fear that seemed to radiate out of his every pore, he also seemed just a second from clamming up and refusing to answer anything. Right now his obedience towards a teacher overrode everything, but it wouldn't for much longer, and he seemed just at the edge of shutting down. Shouta doubted he would ever be able to get the answers out of the kid if that happened. He would lose whatever trust Midoriya still had in him, despite his fear.
He couldn't push anymore. Not right now. Not if he wanted Midoriya to trust him further down the line.
"Izuku", he said, voice low and unhurried. "You just had a panic attack. That takes a toll on you. I'm not letting you get on the train like that."
Midoriya wilted underneath the words, curled in on himself and head hanging down in shame. He didn't push away from Shouta at least, allowing the hand on his head to remain. Shouta ruffled his hair, and then let him go. Midoriya stayed on the couch, not daring to get up.
"I'm not going to ask any more questions", he promised, and Midoriya glanced at him for a second before quickly averting his eyes. "No more questions, kid. But you're gonna have to stay here for a bit longer, because you did have a panic attack, and you need a bit of time to recover."
With that Shouta climbed out of the beanbag. It was comfortable when you were sitting in it, but getting out of the thing reminded Shouta how fucking old he was. When he was finally standing he stretched, his spine popping in a satisfying way as he stretched his arms over his head. Midoriya stayed on the couch, and when Shouta turned to face him he was in the same position, not having moved an inch.
"Stay here, try to get some sleep. Naps are the best thing after a panic attack. I'll keep the place empty for you, and I'll check up on you later."
With that Shouta grabbed a random stack of papers from his desk, a note book and his grading pen, and turned to leave. He heard Midoriya's breath hitch behind him, but the kid didn't move a muscle otherwise. It took everything in him to not check up on the kid, but he kept from glancing back. Right now Midoriya needed space, and a look from his teacher could be enough to send him right into another panic attack. So instead Shouta left the room, papers under his arm, and closed the door quietly behind him.
As he stood outside the teacher's lounge he leaned against the closed door and slowly exhaled. In his hand he played with the grading pen, letting it move through his fingers as he pondered the confusing puzzle at the other side of the door.
Shouta had thought he could read his students fairly well by now. Midoriya had seemed like he had it together, at least to a sort of acceptable degree. Not completely functional, but not a ticking time bomb either. With all the red flags in his students, all the issues they exhibited and thought no one noticed, he had placed Midoriya low on his list of priorities. Now he was beginning to wonder if the kid had tricked him, if he had learned to cover his issues so well that even Shouta missed it.
Shouta glanced down at his phone. He had left his laptop in the teacher's lounge, and he couldn't go back inside without the kid freaking out. So instead he did the next best thing. He fired off a text to Nedzu, asking to get the files on his students sent to his work phone. It only took a moment to get the answer, complete with an e-mail with all the student files attached. With a sigh he sat down in the waiting chair next to the door of the teacher's lounge, scrolling through the files until he found the one he was looking for.
Midoriya Izuku, Aldera Middle School.
He flipped his notebook up to a blank page, pen poised like a snake prepared to strike at the clues waiting in the file. He began reading, eyes scanning the words as he tried to find the solution to the puzzle that had escaped his notice until now.
Shouta liked to imagine he was a good teacher. Now it was time to prove it.