wallflowers don't bloom

by kids_from_yesterday

Summary:

Izuku Midoriya is used to always fading into the background. This has always kept him off of the radar of bullies and teachers alike - which has kept him safe. Upon starting at UA, he finds that he doesn't fade into the background as easily - but it turns out to be for the best.
Tags will be updated as the story progresses. New chapters posted every Saturday.

Notes:

This is my first fanfiction! Thank you so much for reading and please leave a like or a comment!

Chapter 1: ghosts of our past

Aizawa sighed as he entered the teacher’s lounge. He was ready to curl up on the couch in his bright yellow sleeping bag and take one of his necessary but too short naps on his planning period. The school year had just started and he was already exhausted.

He can already sense that there are going to be many problem children in this class. One student in particular, however, had caught his eye for being a Problem Child™. Izuku Midoriya took out a zero pointer during the entrance exam at the expense of his own bodily well being. He seems like the type of person to put others before himself, even if it ends up seriously injuring or killing him.

His thoughts turned briefly to his high school friend, Oboro Shirakumo, who Midoriya reminded him of, before shaking his head and rolling over to face the back of the couch. At that moment, his husband, Hizashi Yamada, Present Mic, walked into the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey Sho!”, Hizashi shouted, arguably verging on too loud for the near silent environment.

Aizawa quickly rolled over and glared at Hizashi - a glare without any fire behind it - then sat up on the couch so Hizashi could join him.

“How is your class this year? Anyone expelled yet?”, Hizashi asked with a bit of a smirk.

“Not yet, but…”, Aizawa thinks back to what he saw during the entrance exam and the behavior he had walked in on during their brief introductory homeroom.

“What’s wrong?”, Hizashi asked. His brow was furrowed in concern and he took one of Aizawa’s hands in his own.

Aizawa decided to skip past the Midoriya-Oboro connection he made for now. “There is some concerning language being used by Bakugo to address Midoriya. You know how they came from the same school?”

Hizashi nods and gestures for Aizawa to keep going. He patted Aizawa’s hand and then got up off of the couch. He walked across the room to the coffee machine and grabbed two cups of coffee, black for Mic and one cream, two sugar for Aizawa.

“I don’t think we were given the full story about their relationship. Bakugo addressed Midoriya as a “useless Deku” and accused him of cheating to get into UA”, Aizawa finishes his recount of that morning's events with a grimace. Aizawa looks up at Mic and takes the coffee with a grateful look.

Hizashi went still, a stormy look crossing his face. He looked to Aizawa who preemptively cancelled his quirk.

“How could he accuse someone who took down a zero pointer of cheating, Hizashi said angrily. "That lil’ listener is selfless he reminds me of - “. Hizashi stops short and glances wide eyed at Aizawa who was still holding his quirk cancellation in place.

Aizawa dropped his quirk then responded quietly, “I was thinking that too.”

The silence after that stretched long and thin.

Mic finally sighed, leaning back, tone gentler. “You were never good with curiosity, Sho. You start pulling at every loose thread you see and the next thing you know, you’re unravelling the whole damn sweater.”

“I’m not pulling,” Aizawa said. “I’m watching.”

Hizashi stood, tossing his empty cup in the trash. “Fine, fine. Just… don’t burn yourself out, okay? You get that thousand-yard stare, people start thinking you’re haunted or something.”

“I am haunted,” Aizawa said dryly. “By grading rubrics.”

Hizashi barked a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “There’s the man I love. Come on, Sho, time for orientation - for me at least.”

Aizawa didn’t move right away. He sat there another moment, staring at the window, at the faint reflection of his own tired eyes.

Notes:

I played with the timeline a bit so that this conversation between Aizawa and Mic could happen. There is an extra little intro homeroom that would basically serve as a place for the students to introduce themselves to each other and meet Aizawa. I also had the confrontation that occurs between Bakugo and Midoriya at Aldera in canon in episode 5 of season 1 take place in that first homeroom here for plot reasons :)

Chapter 2: the power we yield

Summary:

Class 1-A has a quirk test- Aizawa notices more about Midoriya.

After finishing up his conversation with Hizashi, Aizawa went back to homeroom. It was time for his favorite logical ruse.

When he opened the door to the classroom he noticed that the students had grouped themselves up and were having conversations with people they had made friends with that day. The only exceptions to this were Bakugo and Todoroki.

It only took them 6 seconds this time to notice him at the door and quiet down - they were improving.

When the class was in their seats he announced that they would not be going to orientation and would instead be doing a quirk test on the field. Aizawa didn’t miss the brief look of wariness that crossed Midoriya’s face at this news, he mentally filed it away for later.

Upon getting down to the field, he informed the students that one of them would be expelled - the student whose performance shows the least promise. Of the class he expelled last year to general education, about half of them were able to re-enroll in the hero course. This logical ruse serves to keep the students focused on the reality of hero work - it is not all fun and games.

“That’s unfair!” Uraraka yells, stepping forward with her hands raised into fists in front of her.

Aizawa’s gaze met hers. “Unfair?”

“Yes! We just got here!”, she gestures to the students around her, “You can’t expel someone based on the first day!”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think natural disasters, villains, or hostage situations wait for fairness?, he paused looking carefully at the group of students,“This rule mirrors the reality that you are stepping into as a pro hero in the world that we live in. The world is unfair, and your job as a hero will be to combat that unfairness.”

He watched the way her expression shifted - not in defeat, but understanding. She nodded once, quietly determined.

The others fell in line, some mumbling under their breath, some energized by the challenge.

All except two.

Midoriya looked pale, his arms crossed over himself, the picture of a boy trying to disappear into himself. And Bakugo - Bakugo was staring straight at him, eyes burning with that same hostile fire.

There it is again. That fixation wasn’t just rivalry. It was personal.

Aizawa mentally filed that away - another entry in the growing catalogue of things to unpack later.

When they moved down to the field, he hung back slightly, scanning the group as they walked. Midoriya kept to the middle, not too far forward, not lagging behind - right in the safety of the crowd.

Aizawa thought back to the connection he made in the lounge. The signs were all there.

By the time they reached the field, Aizawa had already decided: he was going to push him - just enough to see how he handled the pressure. He needed to know whether the kid’s drive came from courage… or desperation.

And from the tight line of Midoriya’s shoulders, the answer was already forming.

***

The first thing that Aizawa noticed upon getting down to the field was the fear in the eyes of Midoriya and Mineta. They were the ones who seemed the most concerned about the tests. The next thing he noticed was that Bakugo kept glaring at Midoriya every time he completed a test. The last thing was what concerned him the most - Midoriya hadn’t used his quirk yet.

Most of the other students had at least one good score from using their quirk when it came time to do the ball toss. Aizawa was watching Midoriya stand looking down at the ball in his hand when he heard a conversation between Bakugo and Iida.

“If Midoriya doesn’t shape up soon he’s the one going home”, Iida said.

“Huh!”, Bakugo seemed to be surprised at Iida’s remark,” of course he is. He’s a quirkless loser.

Aizawa added that to the mental file he had created on the things that concerned him about Midoriya and turned his attention back to Midoriya who was bringing his arm back to throw the ball. Aizawa saw lighting shoot up his arm and then cancelled his quirk. When Midoriya released the ball, it only went 46 meters.

Midoriya turned towards Aizawa looking confused. Aizawa noticed a brief flash of shame- or panic- that was gone too quickly for Aizawa to analyze it further.

“What gives?”, Midoriya said.

“I cancelled your quirk”, Aizawa responded, “The last time you used it in the entrance exam you became unable to move. A hero needs to rely on their quirk not only for the people around them, but for themselves. Can you do that today?”

Midoriya sucked in a breath. “I know you! You’re the Erasure Hero, Eraserhead!”

Aizawa blinked at being recognized, effectively cancelling his cancellation of Midoriya’s quirk.

Midoriya continued, “I promise I will be able to continue with the rest of the tests, Aizawa-Sensei!”

Midoriya seemed to take a moment to consider what to do before bringing his arm back to throw the ball again. This time he looked more sure of himself. Everyone on the field watched with bated breath to see what would happen. The lightning built up in his finger this time, which was the last point of contact the ball had. Midoriya only came away with a broken finger and a distance of 705.3 meters.

Aizawa wondered if the lightning was a part of Midoriya’s quirk and what Midoriya’s quirk actually was. Before he could think too much about the inordinate amount of power the kid possessed, Bakugo lunged towards Midoriya, explosions coming from his palms and a scowl on his face.

“Deku you bastard! Tell me how you did that or you’re dead, Bakugo yelled as he ran at Midoriya.

Aizawa immediately cancelled Bakugo’s quirk and used his capture weapon to restrain him to keep any harm from coming from Midoriya. With a quick glance at Midoriya he saw a brief flash of surprise and relief flash across his face after he told Bakugo to stand down. The relief makes sense, the surprise… not so much. That is one more thing to add to the mental file.

After tallying all of the student’s scores, Mineta was in last place and Midoriya fell solidly in 18th place, barely beating out Hagakure.

Mineta could be heard wailing as the students took in their scores. “No Mr. Aizawa, please don’t expel me! ”

The other students shuffled away from him with varying degrees of emotions on their faces. Most of the students- mostly the girls in the class - were relieved, Midoriya appeared to understand what Mineta was feeling but looked like he hadn’t processed his own emotions enough to dwell on that thought, Kirishima looked disappointed - Aizawa thought that had to do with his insistence on “manliness”. He had a feeling that the class was tired of this particular student but hadn’t seen anything to justify his hunch enough to expel him.

Mineta must have seen something in his face that caused him to put the pieces together that this was really happening. He lunged toward a group of girls, arms open screaming about needing comfort. Before he could even get in the breathing space of the girls, who had backed up and were standing with Iida and Midoriya, Aizawa had wrapped his capture weapon securely around Mineta.

Now there was surely enough information to bring to Nezu about Mineta to get him expelled not only from class 1-A, but possibly from UA itself. A student like that has no place as a hero. There would now be a spot in class 1-A. Aizawa already had a promising student from General Education he wanted to replace him with.

Notes:

I wonder who the General Education student is? Stay tuned to find out!

Chapter 3: moral of the story (don't jump to conclusions)

Summary:

Aizawa forms a picture of what he thinks is going on with his #1 problem child and starts talking about it with his husband. He recieves a cryptic email from Nedzu.

After finishing the tests, Aizawa met up with Hizashi. On the walk over to the teacher’s lounge, he thought about everything that he had filed away over the course of the day about Midoriya.

1.Midoriya was concerned about the quirk test.
2.Bakugo went to the same school as Midoriya and called him “quirkless”. (He also needed some serious anger management classes but that is a problem for another time)
3.He has limited control over his quirk.
4.He was surprised that a teacher stepped in to help him.

This all led Aizawa to the conclusion that Midoriya was a really late bloomer with his quirk . It was rare, but not unheard of. This would explain his limited control over his quirk - he never saw a quirk counsellor, as well as the bullying behavior from Bakugo - he was functionally quirkless for most of his life.

Aizawa knew the statistics regarding mental health of quirkless people. They are more likely to commit suicide before entering high school because of discrimination. He wondered who he had in his corner and made a mental note to himself to check Midoriya’s file for parent contact information. He also wanted to speak to Midoriya at some point to set up extra training sessions.

When he reached the teacher’s lounge he saw only Hizashi in there and breathed a sigh of relief, he didn’t want to broach the subject of Midoriya with anyone else around. Aizawa placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder to get his attention.

“How was the test?” Mic questioned with a small smile, looking up at Aizawa. “Did you send anyone home?”

“Yeah,” Aizawa responded, moving to sit down next to Hizashi on the couch, “I will be expelling Mineta. I’m going to have a conversation with Nedzu about his actions in regards to female students in my class and if he is moved to general education, keeping him on a very short leash”

Hizashi squinted his eyes tilted his head to the side a bit, as if contemplating something. “That’s not what’s bothering you though, is it Sho?”

Aizawa sometimes hated how well his husband could read him. “No, that’s not bothering me.” Aizawa sighed before continuing. “I think I figured something out about Midoriya, but I would rather not talk about it here.”

“Okay”, Hizashi said, getting up and gathering up his papers into a grey satchel, “let’s go”.

***

The drive to their apartment was mostly quiet. Put Your Hands Up radio was playing quietly in the background and every once in a while Mic would sing along to one of the songs, fingers tapping along on the steering wheel.

Upon arriving at their apartment, they were greeted by their two cats, Dumpster and Bastard, who immediately started yelling for food.

“I’ll feed the cats if you want to get dinner started”, Aizawa said, turning toward the cupboard where the cat food was kept.

“Sure thing,” Mic responded, “and we can talk after dinner”.

Aizawa nodded, filling up the cats’ food bowl. He had to bat away Bastard so that Dumpster would get a chance to eat.

After feeding the cats, Aizawa moved into the living room to compose an email to Nedzu about Mineta. He tried to avoid going to see the vaguely omniscient rodent (?) principal whenever he had a chance.

His email was responded to immediately with follow up about Mineta, but had also contained parent contact information for Midoriya with a promise that he could come and get his full file if he still had unanswered questions. At the end of the message was a winky face.

“What. The. Hell.”, Aizawa quietly exclaimed. The principal’s observational skills were impressive, but he didn’t realize they were this impressive. He also wondered what Nedzu meant with the winky face, was he missing something?

His shock must have been painted all over his face because at that moment, Hizashi walked into the living room.

“Sho, dinner’s ready”, he said, gesturing to the dining room.

“Zashi, you need to look at this email before we talk about Midoriya”, Aizawa said, handing the computer over to Hizashi.

Hizashi wordlessly took the computer and read the email. His brows furrowed as if in thought.

“Did you talk to Nedzu about Midoriya as well?”, Hizashi asked.

“I only talked about my concerns for Midoriya with you.” Aizawa responded. “I didn’t even say anything out loud about wanting to get in contact with his parents.”

A brief flash of anger appeared on Mic’s face before he schooled his expression.

“Do you think there is something about Midoriya they are keeping from us?” Hizashi asked.

Aizawa thought about the conversation they were going to have and what he had worked out over the course of the day.

“Probably”, he responded.

Chapter 4: calm before the storm

Summary:

Midoriya just had his first day at UA and is now heading home. What awaits him?

Notes:

This one is going to be shorter because I wanted to have Midoriya's POV be its own chapter

Midoriya walked home in a daze. He had passed the tests barely coming in 18th place. This entire year felt like a dream to him - getting All Might’s quirk, getting into UA, having ERASERHEAD!!!! as his teacher, being protected!! from Bakugo by ERASERHEAD!!!!- and if someone had told him all of this in middle school, he would have thought they were playing a prank on him.

When he got to the door of his apartment, he opened it and called out for his mom. He never knew when she was going to be home. Or if she was home, when she was going to be awake enough to talk to him.

She still didn’t know he had a quirk.

Midoriya had tried telling her about his quirk when he got into UA, but that was one of her bad days, so she didn’t really hear him. Mom mostly cried and wished he never went to UA, more specifically the hero course at UA. She told him that he is going to be hurt at UA- not could, not may be - because he is “fragile”.

Taking a break from his thoughts, he peeks into the kitchen and spots a note on the counter.

Izuku,

I will not be home for a while. I picked up some extra shifts to take care of us and to be ready for your UA injuries. Our insurance still doesn’t cover quirkless injuries. I know you want to be a hero, but I don’t think that is the best choice for you. I made an appointment with a counselor at the hospital for you to help you decide on a safer option. I want what is best for you as your mother. I love you.

Mom

Midoriya breathes out a sigh and crumples up the note. He only had one year until he could become legally emancipated and live on his own.

He thinks back to earlier that day. For the first time in his life, he had made friends! He had people who believed in him!

If he was still in middle school, the students wouldn’t want to know about his interests or be his friend - they would beat him up. The teachers would encourage this behavior, they wouldn’t stop it. Aizawa even looked concerned after Bakugo lunged toward him today, his teachers in middle school never looked at him with anything other than disdain.

Midoriya made himself dinner and thought about how he was excited to go to school the next day. This was a new feeling - and one he found was not unwelcome.

Notes:

I used the age for emancipation in the US, which is where I am from, because I couldn't find information regarding emancipation in Japan.

Chapter 5: discovery through the eyes of another

Summary:

Aizawa and Mic finally talk about all of Aizawa's observations and share a lovely dinner together

As Aizawa and Hizashi sat down to dinner, thoughts were running through Aizawa’s head.

 

It was logical that he didn’t know everything about Midoriya after knowing him for one day, but what was he missing?

 

“I can hear you thinking all the way over here, love” , Hizashi says , startling Aizawa out of his reverie.

 

“I was just thinking about what to do next”, Aizawa responds before plopping some chicken in his mouth. He shoots an approving look at Mic.

 

Hizashi gives him a small smile back. “Just be there for him and reach out to his mom - she’ll know him best”. Hizashi shoos away Bastard who is trying to jump on the low table. “Sho, your cat is trying to steal our food”

 

Aizawa gets up and picks up Bastard , who yells until he is dropped unceremoniously onto their bed. Then he closes the door behind him - Bastard still screaming. When he returns to the dining room, he looks over at Dumpster who is currently on the cat tree in the living room and tells her “you’re next if you’re not careful”.

 

Aizawa sat back down at the dining room table and ate another bite of chicken, chewing slowly. The chicken was seasoned with ginger and garlic and too much soy sauce, just the way Mic liked it. The rhythmic tapping of chopsticks against a bowl filled the brief silence.

Hizashi was the one to break it. “You’re thinking about him again, huh? The green bean with the lightning arms.”

Aizawa frowned into his plate. “Midoriya. And yes.”

Hizashi tilted his head, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I knew it. You’ve got that look you get when you’re halfway between adopting a stray and writing a disciplinary report.”

That earned a small snort. “He’s not a stray.”

“No, but you’ve got the same expression, Sho. Same one you had after Oboro tried to give a villain a pep talk mid-fight.”

That name - Oboro - hung in the air for a moment. Aizawa’s chopsticks paused. Mic’s grin softened immediately.

“Sorry,” Hizashi said quietly, “didn’t mean to – ”

“It’s fine,” Aizawa said, a touch too fast. He set the chopsticks down and leaned back. “Midoriya just… reminds me of him sometimes. The same kind of reckless idealism. The kind that’ll kill him if someone doesn’t teach him to stop bleeding for every cause.”

Hizashi’s expression softened. “So you will teach him. That’s what you do, Sho. You catch the ones who fall too fast.”

Aizawa smiled briefly before smoothing his face into his more neutral expression. “I will try. But this one, he’s complicated. Bakugo’s language, the way Midoriya reacts to authority, his hesitation to use his quirk- it all fits together in a way that doesn’t sit right.”

Hizashi leaned forward on his elbows. “It doesn’t sit right how?”

“He’s not afraid of failure,” Aizawa said slowly. “He’s afraid of being seen. There’s a difference. When I stopped his quirk, he didn’t panic about the test - he looked… guilty. Like he wasn’t supposed to have power at all.” He paused, eyes narrowing as he recalled the expression on Midoriya’s face: that flicker of panic, gone as quickly as it came. “That wasn’t nerves. That was someone expecting punishment.”

Hizashi’s grin faltered. “Punishment? From you?”

“From someone.” Aizawa’s voice was quiet now, his tone more analytical than emotional. “Kids that flinch like that - they’ve learned to anticipate the worst. He’s been trained to minimize himself. To expect people not to listen, or not to believe him. And Bakugo’s attitude doesn’t help.”

Hizashi frowned. “Yeah, that explosive one - he’s got an ego bigger than my sound system. But language? You mentioned that earlier today.”

Aizawa nodded once. “Bakugo calls him ‘useless Deku.’ He’s the one I overheard at the quirk apprehension test say Midoriya was quirkless. He got angry at the sight of the use of one by Midoriya and told him to ‘die’. That tells me there’s history there. Long-term, likely years. Midoriya didn’t even defend himself, just took it, like he’s used to it. Didn’t even look upset, just… resigned.”

The memory brought a brief crease to his brow. He could still see Midoriya’s face in that moment - small, uncertain, the kind of look that came from someone who’d spent years convincing themselves not to fight back.

Hizashi rubbed at the back of his neck. “You think that’s why he hesitated with his quirk?”

“Probably.” Aizawa’s gaze drifted toward the living room window, where the sky had dimmed to a bruised indigo. “He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. The power he used at the exam - it was reckless, but not thoughtless. It was the kind of move that says ‘this is the only way I matter.’ Kids like that don’t start reckless; they learn to be.”

Hizashi was quiet for a beat, the sound of Bastard yowling in the bedroom filling the silence between them.

“What’s the plan, Sho?”

Aizawa stood, collecting their empty plates. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” he said finally. “Contact his mother. See what’s really going on.”

Hizashi rose too, following him to the sink. “You’ll figure it out, Sho, you always do.”

Aizawa glanced toward his laptop, sitting on the couch where Nedzu’s winking email still glowed faintly on the screen, his mind already turning again.

He was going to get answers. About Midoriya. About what Nedzu knew.

And about why a kid who could break the sky with one finger still looked like he was waiting for permission to breathe.

Notes:

You can find me on tumblr- I have the same username there :)

Chapter 6: interlude of self-doubt

Summary:

Izuku receives notification that Aizawa wants to talk to his mom - does this mean Aizawa checked his file?

Midoriya sat at his desk, the glow from his old laptop casting faint shadows across the tiny apartment bedroom. His notes were spread out in a messy circle - analysis sheets on his classmates, half-finished sketches of support gear, and a sticky note that reminded him to work on control in his own scrawling handwriting.

His right hand still throbbed from the ball throw. Recovery Girl had healed it, but it remembered the pain anyway. It always did.

He flexed his fingers carefully and looked down at the faint, healed pink lines running along his knuckles. “Control,” he muttered to himself. “You just have to figure out control.” His eyes found the sticky note on his desk as he listened to his favorite radio station - Put Your Hands Up Radio, which made him feel less alone on nights like these.

He glanced toward the kitchen. The note from his mom was still there, uncrumpled this time, but he didn’t need to read it again. He already knew every word. He’d tried calling her earlier, just to say he was okay, but she hadn’t answered. Probably still at work. Probably too tired to answer.

Midoriya leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. The day replayed in his mind like a broken film reel. Aizawa’s voice, calm and even. “Can you do that today?”. He remembered the fear he felt at first when Aizawa stopped his quirk, and how that fear disappeared when he saw the lack of hostility that existed when teachers addressed him in the past. The way Aizawa's scarf had moved like it was alive, the way his eyes had cut through everything when Bakugo lunged at Midoriya and the concern that was seemingly etched into them. Nobody had ever stopped Bakugo before. Not like that.

Midoriya didn’t know what had surprised him more - that Aizawa had stepped in to protect him, or that he’d done it without hesitation.

He hadn’t realized how much that would mean until the adrenaline faded and he found himself shaking on the train home, staring at his reflection in the window. He wasn’t just nervous about UA anymore. He was terrified of what people might see if they looked too closely.

All Might had said his secret was safe - that no one could find out about One for All yet. Not until he was ready. Not until he could carry it properly. But he wasn’t sure what “ready” looked like anymore.

He opened his notebook again and started writing:

Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 14 : Entry #3

Teacher Observation: Eraserhead (Shouta Aizawa)
Quirk: Erasure. Can cancel others’ quirks by looking at them. Uses capture weapon with extreme precision. Hair and capture weapon float when quirk is in use. Anti- gravity secondary quirk?  Known for expelling students, though reason appears to be training-focused rather than punitive.

Personality: Rational. Exhausted (constantly). Observant. Possibly… kind? In a quiet way. He said heroes need to be logical, but he still helped me. He didn’t have to.

Midoriya stared at the last line, the ink blurring slightly as his eyes stung. He wasn’t sure why he’d written that. Maybe because for the first time in a long time, a teacher hadn’t looked at him like something stuck to the bottom of their shoe.

The computer pinged softly - an email notification. He checked, expecting one of his classmate group messages, but froze when he saw the sender’s name.

UA Administrative Office: Parent Contact Verification

His stomach dropped.

The message was short. Routine. It just confirmed that UA would be making parent contacts for all first-year students. But seeing his name next to his mother’s number and address made his pulse spike.

Aizawa had said he’d be “looking into student files.” What if he’d already seen it? What if he knew about the doctor’s note, the one that said “quirkless”?

Midoriya pushed the laptop closed, heart hammering.

He told himself there was no reason to panic. He’d done nothing wrong. He’d earned his place.

And yet, that old fear - small, sharp, familiar - settled in his chest again, whispering the same thing it always did.

What if they find out you’re still not enough?

He glanced at the notebook again, at Aizawa’s name underlined in neat green ink, and whispered into the quiet apartment, “Please don’t look at me like I’m lying.”

Then he turned off the light and crawled into bed.

The city outside murmured, the dogs in some distant apartment barked, and for the first time since entering UA, Midoriya dreamed - not of becoming a hero, but of finally being seen and believed.

Notes:

I don't really have a posting schedule. I have 4 more chapters to post and am currently working on the 5th one so I will probably continue posting 1 or 2 at a time depending on what I have done :)

Chapter 7: mind wide awake (running in circles)

Summary:

Midoriya's second day is here! Homeroom passes by in a blur for Midoriya and Aizawa makes some more observations.

Midoriya’s alarm went off at 6. He got up, brushed his teeth, put on his uniform, packed his bag, and checked the time multiple times almost robotically. He kept thinking about the email he received last night. Aizawa would be getting in contact with his mom. Aizawa would be - if he had not already- checking his file. Aizawa - Eraserhead - would find the doctor’s note in his file that said he was quirkless.

When he got to UA, everything seemed normal. Aizawa was napping in the corner of the class in his sleeping bag. He seemed to be awake so Midoriya greeted him when he walked in the classroom.

“Morning, Sensei,” Midoriya managed.

“Morning,” came the muffled reply.

He knew it. When Midoriya reached his desk, he froze .For a moment, he could’ve sworn Aizawa’s eyes were open and his gaze lingered on him - not cold, not harsh, just sharp. Like he was taking mental notes again.

He sat down quickly. Uraraka waved from her seat, all bright energy and warmth. “Deku! You okay? You look like you didn’t sleep much.”

He tried to smile. “Ah, yeah - just… still nervous, I guess. There are so many talented people here.”

Iida turned from the next desk. “Understandable, Midoriya! But remember, anxiety is only the first step toward preparation. Channel it productively!” Each statement was punctuated with a karate chop.

“R-right,” Midoriya said, forcing a nod.

Behind him, Bakugo muttered something under his breath - probably an insult - but for once, Midoriya didn’t respond. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

He could feel it - that weight in Aizawa’s stare, still hovering even as the man appeared to be dozing.

***

Aizawa watched as Midoriya walked into homeroom looking more skittish than normal. 

The kid’s shoulders were practically glued to his ears, his steps small and cautious - like every motion had to be approved before he made it. Even his bag seemed to hang heavier than it should.

Aizawa didn’t move. He just watched from the cocoon of his sleeping bag, eyes half-lidded, lashes casting a faint shadow that helped him observe without being obvious about it.

Midoriya hesitated by the desk -  exactly as Aizawa expected him to. Then came the microfreezes: the way his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, the flicker of surprise when he realized Aizawa was looking back.

Not cold. Not disciplinary. Just watching.

The boy blinked once, startled, then hurriedly sat down as if proximity to his seat might erase the moment entirely.

He pretended to adjust the collar of his capture weapon, concealing the way his gaze shifted slightly - tracking the rest of the class as chatter swelled around them. Uraraka leaned over her desk, full of that relentless sunshine energy that he couldn’t decide if he admired or dreaded this early in the morning. Midoriya responded with the kind of fragile smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Iida,” Aizawa murmured under his breath, not loudly enough for anyone but himself to hear, “still on the rules. Uraraka - emotional stabilizer. Bakugo…”

He glanced toward the blond, who was slouched in his chair like the world owed him an apology. His eyes, though, had already flicked toward Midoriya -sharp, irritated, territorial.

Aizawa let out the softest sigh. And Bakugo’s still watching him. Great.

He’d hoped the hostility would’ve burned off after the assessment test - some mutual understanding, or at least tolerance. But no. If anything, it seemed worse. Bakugo’s glare wasn’t just aggression now; it was confusion. He couldn’t reconcile what he saw at the quirk testing site - Midoriya’s hidden strength - with the weak kid in front of him now.

He doesn’t get it yet, Aizawa thought. That Midoriya’s not competing with him. He’s surviving him.

He closed his eyes for a second, letting his head rest against the wall behind him. To anyone else, it probably looked like he’d drifted off again.

In reality, he was cataloging details.

Midoriya’s pen was already out, notebook open to a page labeled in neat handwriting - “Observations: UA Quirks.” The kid wasn’t even pretending to hide it. That same obsessive drive again. Aizawa could almost see the invisible threads connecting the boy’s gaze from classmate to classmate, analyzing movement, speech, habits -  collecting data as if preparing for an exam no one else knew existed.

He doesn’t rest, Aizawa thought. Even when he should.

That was both admirable and dangerous. Students like him - the kind who didn’t stop thinking, don't take breaks -  were the ones who reached their limits faster than anyone realized. And when they broke, they broke quietly.

Aizawa rubbed a hand over his face. Hizashi had been right; he was already starting to see too much of the past in this kid. Same haunted drive. Same need to earn every ounce of worth.

He opened his eyes again, just long enough to meet Midoriya’s.

It wasn’t meant to be a test, but the boy flinched anyway -  almost imperceptibly. He looked down fast, pretending to reread his own notes.

A chair screeched against the tile -  Iida, of course, marching up to the podium to remind everyone to prepare for first period even though Aizawa was sitting right there. The class energy shifted again - chatter, laughter, motion.

But Aizawa kept his attention on Midoriya for one more beat.

The boy’s expression softened as he listened to Uraraka and Iida talk, the edge of that nervous tension easing just a little. Still, Aizawa could tell his mind was running in circles underneath.

Aizawa let out a quiet exhale and reached for his capture weapon again, drawing it closer like a blanket.

“Relax, problem child,” he muttered, “You’re fine.”

The class quieted when the bell rang, and he finally pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders as he stepped toward the board.

“Alright,” he said, tone as dry as ever. “Let’s see how awake you all actually are.”

Notes:

I forgot to say this earlier but Midoriya is based on my own self doubt. Inko's characterization is based (somewhat) on my own family dynamics. Thank you for reading this far!

Chapter 8: a class act

Summary:

Midoriya spends most of class containing himself and simply agreeing with what his group mates are saying. Aizawa intends to meet with him to ensure that he understands he doesn't always have to agree with everyone or apologize for being right.

The lesson for Hero Ethics class started much like any other. Aizawa’s chalk scraped across the board, outlining the day’s objectives in his tight, uncompromising script. They would be starting the day with a focus on tactical analysis. 

The task was simple - on paper. They were to outline how they’d respond to a hypothetical villain attack in an urban environment in a way that resulted in the lowest amount of civilian casualties . No quirk usage, just strategy and coordination.

It was his favorite kind of assignment. Quiet, revealing. The kind that showed him who thought before acting - and who hid behind instinct.

He scanned the room lazily, though his eyes were sharp beneath his hair.

Iida’s group - orderly as always. Every suggestion seems to filter through him first. Efficient as always. Uraraka’s group - laughter and brainstorming, ideas bouncing like pinballs. A bit chaotic, but genuine teamwork.

Then, there was Midoriya.

His team -Yaoyorozu, Asui, and Kaminari - had huddled near the back. From a distance, it looked balanced enough: tactical brains, calm practicality, and spontaneous energy. But Aizawa could already see the imbalance forming.

Yaoyorozu was leading. Naturally. But she kept glancing toward Midoriya like she was waiting for him to speak up - to confirm her ideas. And Midoriya… he wasn’t meeting her halfway. He was nodding, agreeing, adding small details in that soft, uncertain voice of his- but never claiming space.

It wasn’t hesitation out of ignorance; Aizawa knew that much. He saw the subtle way Midoriya’s eyes darted to the map, how his pen scratched notes at twice the pace of anyone else’s. He was analyzing. Always analyzing. But he wasn’t inserting himself.

That’s what troubled Aizawa.

He crouched slightly, pretending to adjust his scarf again, and listened in without making it obvious.

“So if we divide the area,” Yaoyorozu was saying, “Asui and I can handle civilian evacuation - ”

“Wait,” Midoriya interjected, voice quiet. “If the villain’s quirk involves structural damage, it might be better to send Kaminari for comms coverage. That way we can- ”

He stopped midsentence.

Yaoyorozu blinked. “We can what?”  Yaoyorozu turned toward Midoriya with a small smile.

Midoriya flushed, shoulders curling up towards his ears. “Ah, sorry, I- I didn’t mean to interrupt. Your plan’s good.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightened imperceptibly.

There it is again. Retraction. Immediate submission.

Yaoyorozu frowned, polite but puzzled, while Kaminari grinned and said something about “nerd strategy mode.” Asui’s eyes flicked to Midoriya, thoughtful. Aizawa made a note of that - she noticed. Good.

He straightened again and drifted to another group, giving them a few curt comments about clarity. Outwardly, nothing seemed amiss. But internally, his focus hadn’t left that one student.

Midoriya’s hands moved as he talked now, small gestures punctuating ideas he didn’t voice fully. He wasn’t lazy, or shy -  he was containing himself.

Aizawa had seen that before. Students who’d been punished for enthusiasm, or mocked for knowing too much. It bred a kind of restraint that didn’t vanish just because you made it to UA.

He waited until the end of the exercise before stepping forward again, voice even but carrying easily over the chatter.

“Time’s up. Presentations in two minutes. And before anyone asks -  yes, I was paying attention. No, you didn’t all do well.”

The class groaned. Someone muttered, “Here we go.”

Aizawa ignored it. He gestured lazily toward Yaoyorozu’s group first. “You’re up.”

They presented smoothly - Yaoyorozu’s diagrams crisp, her logic airtight. Asui added a few tactical notes, Kaminari improvised with his usual mix of charm and confusion, and Midoriya…

He hung back again.

Until Yaoyorozu, mid-sentence, stumbled slightly over a technical term. Aizawa saw it -  the brief flicker of hesitation - and before she could recover, Midoriya stepped in.

“Sorry -I think what Yaoyorozu means is that if we use parallel evacuation routes, we minimize bottleneck risk at the exits. It’s similar to how pro heroes coordinate crowd dispersal during large-scale disasters - ”

And just like that, the boy came alive. His voice was steadier, his eyes focused. 

The class watched him. Some were surprised, some impressed, some (Bakugo) irritated beyond measure.

Aizawa didn’t interrupt.

When Midoriya finished, the silence hung for a beat too long. Then Yaoyorozu smiled. “Exactly what I meant, yes - thank you, Midoriya.”

He froze again. “Ah- ! Sorry, I- ”

Aizawa cut him off with a sharp tone. “Don’t apologize for being correct.”

That made the kid look up. Just slightly.

Aizawa didn’t elaborate. He turned to the next group, expression unreadable. But as he did, he saw the faintest shift in Midoriya’s posture - his shoulders a little less tense, his gaze a little more level.

It wasn’t much. Barely visible.

But for Aizawa, it was enough.

Because progress, he’d learned, didn’t always look like triumph. Sometimes, it looked like a kid who didn’t apologize for knowing what he knew.

He made a mental note: follow up after class.

And then, outwardly, went right back to being the tired, indifferent teacher everyone expected him to be.

Notes:

Class title is based on a lot of other fan fiction I have read on Aizawa teaching a course. :)

Chapter 9: instruction does much,but encouragement does everything

Summary:

Aizawa intends to talk to Midoriya about class, but Midoriya beats him to it.

After class was over, Midoriya hung back. It was a habit he had picked up over the years. Lingering meant a few extra moments to breathe before entering the chaos of the hallway and allowed him extra time to gather his thoughts before heading to his next class - which was English.

He had just packed his notebook away when he looked up to an empty classroom - save for him and Aizawa, who was standing at the podium scrolling through something on a tablet.

Midoriya took a breath before hitching up the strap of his yellow bookbag over his shoulder. 

He took a few measured steps toward the front of the classroom.

“E-excuse me, Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa set down the tablet and looked up at him with tired - but focused - eyes. 

“Yes, Midoriya”

Midoriya’s throat felt dry. “I just wanted to say - uh, thank you. For what you said. About… not apologizing.”

Aizawa blinked, some unreadable emotion briefly on his face.”Really?”

Midoriya nodded quickly. “Y-yes! I- uh, I’ve been trying to be more confident, but sometimes I - um - well, I guess I get carried away when I start explaining things, and people don’t usually want to hear it, so -”

“Midoriya.”

He froze. “Y-yes?”

Aizawa stared at him for a long moment. His gaze wasn’t harsh - just level. Measuring. The kind that made Midoriya feel like every nervous twitch was being quietly filed away in a mental file somewhere.

“You don’t need to justify gratitude,” Aizawa said finally. “Just say thank you.”

Midoriya’s face burned. “Right! Thank you.”

A pause. Then Aizawa’s expression softened -  almost imperceptibly. “You did well today. You saw things the others missed.”

Midoriya’s mouth opened, then closed again. Praise from Aizawa was so rare it felt like spotting an endangered species. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Thank you, Sensei,” he said again, quieter this time.

Aizawa nodded once, then turned his attention to the stack of reports on his desk. “That said, I’m calling your mother later.”

Midoriya froze mid-step. “Huh?”

Aizawa didn’t even look up. “You look like you haven’t slept in days. And if that’s because you’re spending your nights analyzing combat footage or scribbling in that notebook, I want confirmation that someone at home knows.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened. “O-oh! It’s not - I mean, I’m just - ”

“Don’t,” Aizawa interrupted, finally meeting his gaze. “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

Midoriya’s hands fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. He looked down at the floor. His stomach twisted. “I just… wanted to be ready. For anything. I can’t afford to mess up.” Midoriya took a deep breath and glanced back up at Aizawa.

Aizawa studied him silently, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re not going to fail out of UA in your first month, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But you will burn out if you keep pushing like this.”

Midoriya blinked. The words weren’t unkind, but they hit hard. Like someone had found the one fracture line he’d been pretending wasn’t there.

“I’ll talk to her,” Aizawa went on, voice lower now. “Just to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. You need a balance, Midoriya. Training isn’t supposed to feel like punishment.”

The word punishment made something in Midoriya’s chest clench. He wasn’t sure why.

“I - yes, Sensei. I understand.”

Aizawa closed his eyes again, effectively ending the conversation. “Good. Go eat something.”

Midoriya nodded, bowed again, and left the classroom as quickly as possible. His legs felt like they were moving on autopilot, but his mind was spinning.

He hadn’t expected Aizawa to notice. Not like that.

Most teachers would’ve praised the effort, the discipline, the drive. But Aizawa had looked at him and seen… something else. Something he couldn’t hide behind neat handwriting and perfect test scores.

By the time he reached the door, he glanced back once.

Aizawa’s eyes were closed, his face unreadable. But somehow, Midoriya got the strange sense that even asleep, his teacher was still watching.

And for the first time, instead of fear, that thought made him feel a little safer.

***

Aizawa was prepared to meet with Midoriya after class, to reinforce the idea that he didn’t have to apologize for existing.

What he was not prepared for was the kid approaching him of his own volition and seemingly coming to that conclusion on his own.

He was proud of Midoriya. He didn’t say it, of course - not out loud and not in words. But when the kid bowed and stammered out thanks,  his expression earnest and trembling, Aizawa had felt that familiar tug in his chest - the one he used to get when a student surprised him by growing faster than he expected.

Pride wasn’t an emotion he allowed himself often. It was dangerous. Pride led to attachment, and attachment made losses hurt more. He’d learned that lesson long ago.

Still, as the door clicked shut behind Midoriya, Aizawa let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair.

The kid was a mess - underslept, overworked, probably running on caffeine and sheer willpower. But under all that anxious energy was something… deliberate. A spark that wasn’t just enthusiasm; it was instinct. The kind of raw, adaptive thinking he’d only seen in pro heroes who’d been on the field for years.

 And yet, the way Midoriya had flinched when Aizawa mentioned punishment -  that was what stuck with him. The way his shoulders had tensed, the way his voice had faltered for just a heartbeat.

That wasn’t a reaction born from mere nerves. That was muscle memory.

Aizawa frowned. He’d seen it before -  kids from rough households, or from schools that treated quirkless students like liabilities instead of people. He’d read enough case files to recognize that kind of tension.

He reached for his tablet again, looking back through Midoriya’s file. There were several inconsistent reports from middle school that didn’t match the student he knew - reports that indicated a student that was a classroom disruption, not someone who tried to fade into the background - and a note from his doctor that stated he was quirkless.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded.

He could almost hear Mic’s voice now, loud and insistent: “Sho, you’re already thinking too much about this kid.”

And maybe he was. But something told him he needed to.

Midoriya wasn’t like the others. Not in a bad way - just… different. The kind of different that could go either direction depending on who was paying attention. Left unchecked, that drive would eat him alive. But with the right guidance -

Aizawa sighed. He was already planning extra training sessions in his head.

He’d call Midoriya’s mother tonight, ask careful questions — not accusatory, just enough to gauge the situation. He’d phrase it clinically: “academic stress,” “adjustment period,” “support at home.” The kind of language that puts parents at ease.

But if the answers didn’t line up with what he saw today, then he’d know.

For now, though, he let himself sink into the chair, exhaustion pulling at the edges of his focus.

Midoriya Izuku. Late bloomer. Overthinker. Self-sacrificing to a fault.

Problem child, he thought, with something that almost resembled fondness.

But for the first time in a long while, Aizawa didn’t mind the prospect of having a problem.

He might even welcome it.

Chapter 10: something's off here (deliberate omissions)

Summary:

Mic and Aizawa talk about what they have both noticed in class concerning Midoriya's behavior. Aizawa finally calls Inko Midoriya.

Aizawa had just started grading the last of the day's assignments when the familiar sound of boots and unnecessarily loud volume  filled the hallway.

“Yo, Eraser, you in there?”

“It’s after hours, Zashi”, Aizawa replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just checking”, Hizashi replied in a sing- song tone stepping halfway into the classroom before raising an eyebrow at the look on Aizawa’s face, “Whoa, you look like death warmed over. Again.”

 Aizawa exhaled while leaning back in his chair.

“What happened today?” Hizashi asked, moving over to lean against the desk, 

“It’s Midoriya.”

“Green bean?” Hizashi grinned, then caught the look Aizawa gave him and sobered a little. “Ah. Serious talk then.”

“He’s… complicated,” Aizawa said . “Bright. Obsessive. Overextends himself." Aizawa took a breath before continuing, "I told him I’m calling his mother.”

Hizashi gave a low whistle. “How’d he take it?”

“I didn’t even have to look at him to know that the thought made him extremely anxious,” Aizawa said, frowning at the papers on his desk.

Hizashi crossed his arms over his chest, then asked, “What’s your biggest concern right now?”

“I’m not worried about his academics and I can easily help him with his control,” Aizawa said. “I’m worried about the way he pushes himself. The way he apologizes for taking up space. Those behaviors are hard to unlearn.”

Hizashi was quiet for a moment - unusually quiet. Then he nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen a bit of that too.”

Aizawa looked up. “You have?”

Hizashi leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “During English this week. I gave them a translation exercise - light stuff, ya dig? Midoriya finished early, but instead of just checking his answers, he started rewriting them. Every single one. Over and over. Like he was trying to make the words sound… perfect.”

“That’s not unusual for him,” Aizawa said.

“Sure, but it’s how he did it.” Mic’s tone softened. “Kid looked like he was bracing for impact. Every time I walked past his desk, he tensed up like I was gonna tell him he’d done something wrong.”

Aizawa’s frown deepened.

“I mean, I joke a lot, but I’m not blind,” Hizashi continued. “That’s not a kid who just wants to be good. That’s a kid who’s scared to disappoint someone.”

Aizawa let the words settle between them. It wasn’t new information -  not really - but hearing it from someone else made it heavier, somehow. More real.

“He said something like that earlier,” Aizawa admitted. “That he ‘can’t afford to mess up.’ I told him that kind of thinking would burn him out.”

Hizashi exhaled slowly, rocking back on his heels. “You’re probably the first person who’s ever told him that.”

Silence stretched, filled only by the low hum of the lights.

Finally, Hizashi straightened and offered a small, wry smile. “You know, for a guy who claims to hate kids, you’re pretty good at seeing through ’em.”

“Occupational hazard,” Aizawa replied dryly.

Mic chuckled, then headed for the door. “Just… keep an eye on him, yeah? The green bean’s got heart, but that’s a dangerous thing when you don’t know your own limits.”

Aizawa didn’t respond, but his gaze followed Mic out the door. When the sound of footsteps faded, he looked down at the phone on his desk.

He’d make the call tonight. Not because he had to, but because someone should.

Someone needed to remind Midoriya -  and maybe his mother -  that trying to save the world didn’t mean forgetting yourself in the process.

***

The classroom was dim, lit mostly by the glow of a desk lamp and the pale rectangles of moonlight cutting through the blinds. 

Aizawa sat slouched in his chair, phone pressed to his ear, the hum of the line stretching long before a voice finally answered.

“Hello? Um, this is Inko Midoriya speaking.”

“Midoriya-san. It’s Shouta Aizawa, Izuku’s homeroom teacher.”

There was a pause - the faint hitch of surprise on the other end. Aizawa hears the faint murmurings of what sounds like an announcement - the radio maybe?
“Oh! Eraserhead! I mean, Aizawa-sensei! I - I hope he hasn’t done anything wrong?”

“No,” Aizawa said, voice even. “He’s performing well. Better than most at this stage.”

Another pause. “Oh, thank goodness. You had me worried for a second.”

“He’s been pushing himself hard. Too hard.”

Her voice softened. “Ah… yes, that sounds like my Izuku.”

“I wanted to make sure you’re aware,” Aizawa continued. “He’s showing signs of sleep deprivation. Overworking. Anxiety response when confronted with authority. He’s - ” He hesitated, eyes flicking to the window. “He’s compensating for something. I wanted to ask if you’d noticed anything similar at home.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was the kind that tightened.

When Inko finally spoke, her voice was gentle but careful. “Well… he’s always been a bit of a worrier. He just wants to do his best. It’s been a dream come true for him, getting into UA. I think he’s just… afraid of losing it.”

“That much I gathered,” Aizawa said quietly. “But this level of self-pressure- it doesn’t come from nowhere.”

She hesitated again. “He’s… had a rough time before UA. Kids can be cruel, and Izuku… he’s… sensitive. I think some of that still lingers.”

Aizawa could tell there was more she wasn’t saying. He didn’t press - not directly.
Instead, he leaned back, tone unreadable. “I understand. Still, I’d appreciate it if you keep an eye on his routine. Encourage breaks. Proper rest.”

“I will,” she said quickly. “Absolutely.”

“If I notice him slipping further, I’ll intervene,” Aizawa added, not unkindly. “He’s talented. But talent isn’t worth much if he burns out before graduation.”

There was a soft, shaky laugh on the line. “I’m glad he has a teacher like you. Really.”

The call ended a moment later, leaving the faint click of disconnection in the quiet office.

Aizawa stared at the phone for a while before setting it down.

Inko Midoriya hadn’t lied - not exactly. But she’d chosen her words too carefully. There were gaps in the truth big enough to fall through.

And if there was one thing Aizawa hated more than carelessness, it was deliberate omission.

He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded.
He’d keep watching Midoriya.
Because now, more than ever, he was sure - the kid’s story wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed.

***

Aizawa packed up his belongings slowly as he mulled over the phone call with Midoriya’s mother. The only sound in the empty classroom was the light scuffle of objects as they were placed into his bag.

He wasn’t sure how the conversation had turned on its head the way it did. The phone call was supposed to be straightforward: fact-finding, an assessment of Midoriya’s home stability, maybe a note about sleep schedules or time management. Instead, it had drifted somewhere else entirely.

“She’s nervous,” he murmured to himself, zipping his bag shut. “But about what?”

It wasn’t fear of him -  her tone hadn’t carried that sharp edge he recognized from parents worried their child was in trouble. It was subtler, quieter. Protective. The kind of fear that comes from wanting to hide something you believe you have to protect.

Aizawa added his uneasiness about Midoriya’s homelife to the growing file of problems he kept in his head.

Aizawa stepped out into the hallway with one last parting glance into the classroom behind him. His boots echoed loudly on the tile as he walked down the hall.

He wondered what All Might saw when he looked at the boy -  if the Symbol of Peace had noticed the same cracks under all that determination.

He doubted it. All Might was an optimist to the bone. He saw potential first, pain second. Aizawa tended to see the reverse.

As he made his way toward the staff exit, he thought again about Inko’s tone -  the small tremor when she’d said ‘he’s always been like that’, the careful laugh that followed.

Something had shaped Midoriya into who he was long before UA got to him. Something that had left its mark deeper than even the boy realized.

He didn’t know what it was yet - but he’d find out.

Because if there was one thing Aizawa refused to do, it was let a kid under his care quietly unravel while everyone else praised their progress.

He pushed open the doors and stepped into the cool night air. The city lights glowed faintly in the distance, reflected in the glass of the UA exterior.

The phone call had left him uneasy - not because of what was said, but because of what wasn’t.

And if experience had taught him anything, it was that silence could be the loudest answer of all.

Notes:

I'm not sure how I feel about the phone call - I feel like it's missing something. Also, I don't have a beta reader so I've been going back and editing whenever I notice inconsistencies or errors. If you notice anything that I miss, please leave me a comment letting me know :)

Chapter 11: misunderstandings

Summary:

Midoriya overthinks about the aftermath of the phone call to his mom in homeroom. Aizawa and Mic make plans.

Notes:

If you already read chapter 10, please go back and reread it! I added more to the end :)

edit date:10/26

 

Midoriya woke before his alarm - again.

The apartment was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of traffic outside. For a few seconds, he let himself pretend that he’d only woken early to get a head start on the day - not because he’d barely slept at all.

His notebooks were still open on the floor where he’d left them, pages covered in messy handwriting and half-finished diagrams of possible training techniques. He’d fallen asleep mid-note, pen still in hand.

When he finally dragged himself upright, the quiet hit him again. No sound of the kettle, no footsteps, no hum from the other room. His mother was still at work - or maybe she just hadn’t come home yet. He didn’t check.

It wasn’t unusual.

He went through the motions anyway: washed his face, buttoned his uniform, made instant miso in the microwave just so the apartment would smell like someone had cooked.

But the silence lingered.

As he packed his bag, his eyes landed on the fridge - on the old magnet holding up a photo of him and his mom from when he was little. They both looked tired even then, but happy. Safe.

He swallowed hard.

“Right,” he whispered to himself, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “You’re fine. You can do this. Just… focus.”

He hesitated at the door, then muttered under his breath, “Sensei said he’d call her.”

A nervous laugh escaped before he could stop it. “If he does, he’ll just get voicemail anyway.”

The thought didn’t comfort him the way he hoped it would.

He locked up and started walking. The morning air was crisp, and the city was already loud - cars, chatter, footsteps. The kind of noise that filled the space in his head until his thoughts blurred together. He tried to focus on his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Calm. Collected. Don’t think about it.

By the time he reached UA, the rest of the class was already gathered in homeroom. The energy hit him like a wall -  laughter, conversations, the scrape of chairs. He smiled awkwardly when Uraraka waved, offered a quick “Morning!” to Iida, and slipped into his seat.

For a moment, he let himself relax.

Then he looked up - and saw Aizawa.

The man was at his desk, half-zipped in his sleeping bag, hair a mess, expression unreadable. Same as always. But something in the air felt different.

Midoriya froze.

Aizawa’s eyes, heavy-lidded though they were, flicked up and met his. Just for a heartbeat. Not cold. Not angry. Just… measuring.

Midoriya’s pulse skipped.

He quickly looked down, fiddling with his pen. His stomach tightened, that quiet panic curling up behind his ribs. What if Aizawa had tried to call? What if he’d noticed no one answered? What if he asked about it?

He’d have to lie. He hated lying. But what else could he do?

The scrape of a chair made him flinch. Aizawa had stood up.

“Homeroom’s starting,” the teacher muttered, voice low but cutting through the chatter instantly.

Everyone scrambled back to their seats. Midoriya sat straighter, pretending to jot down notes that didn’t exist. He could feel the weight of Aizawa’s presence like static in the air -  quiet but undeniable.

Halfway through announcements, Aizawa’s voice cut through again. “Midoriya.”

Midoriya’s head snapped up before he could stop himself. “Y-yes, Sensei?”

“You’re zoning out.” Aizawa’s tone was flat, but not sharp. Observational. “Focus.”

“R-right! Sorry!” He bowed his head slightly, cheeks burning.

Aizawa just hummed and went back to his clipboard.

But Midoriya’s heart wouldn’t settle. He could feel that steady gaze flicker toward him now and then - not constant, but enough to make him wonder what his teacher was thinking.

He wondered if Aizawa knew.
If he’d pieced together the empty look in Midoriya’s eyes when home was mentioned.
If he’d heard the silence on the other end of the line last night and realized there was no one there to pick up.

By the time homeroom ended, Midoriya’s notes were a mess of shaky lines and half-formed sentences.

He waited until the room began to empty before glancing toward Aizawa again. The man was still there, leaning back in his chair, scanning reports with a detached calm that didn’t fool Midoriya at all.

Their eyes met again for the briefest second.

“Eat something before training,” Aizawa said without looking up this time.

Midoriya blinked. “Y-yes, Sensei!”

He bowed awkwardly and nearly tripped on his way out of the classroom -  a nervous smile twitching at his lips despite himself.

Because even though Aizawa hadn’t said much… he had noticed.

And somehow, that was enough to make the quiet of the morning feel a little less heavy.

***

Aizawa watched as Midoriya walked away - briefly stumbling over himself. 

He pulled Midoriya’s file out of the stack of reports and files in front of him. Everything appeared standard at first glance: relatively clean academic history, medical records from before admission, address in Musutafu, emergency contact listed as Inko Midoriya (mother). Nothing jumped out. Except…

He frowned. The emergency number. He’d dialed it last night. The same one that went dead after a few vague answers.

He’d assumed the call dropped, but now… he wasn’t sure.

He rubbed a thumb over his brow. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’m a teacher, not an investigator.”

Still, his instincts wouldn’t let it go.

“Yo, Eraser,” a voice chirped from behind him. “You look like you’re trying to set the file on fire with your mind.”

Aizawa didn’t need to turn to know who it was. “Mic,” he said flatly. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”

“Free period, my dude.” Hizashi sauntered over, balancing a coffee cup dangerously close to the student files. “You’re reading something juicy or what?”

“It’s Midoriya.”

That got Hizashi’s attention. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Aizawa closed the file halfway, thoughtful. “That’s what worries me.”

Hizashi blinked. “You lost me.”

“He’s been running on fumes for weeks. Tries to hide it. The usual signs - sleep deprivation, nerves, overcompensation. I thought it was just stress from adjusting to a new routine, but after I called home…”

He hesitated. The memory of that awkward phone call played again in his mind: polite but evasive, as if every word had been carefully chosen.

Hizashi tilted his head. “The mom being weird?”

“I’m not sure.” Aizawa sighed. “But something’s off. And if I go through official channels without proof, I risk overstepping.”

Hizashi set down his coffee, uncharacteristically serious now. “You should talk to Nedzu.”

“I will - I just need some more insight before I do. I was ultimately hoping to avoid having to do that.”

“Yeah, well, tough luck”, Hizashi perched on the desk, “He’s the best at sniffing out this kind of stuff. You know he’ll want to know if a kid’s situation could affect his safety.”

Aizawa didn’t respond for a long moment. Finally, he shut the file completely and rose from his chair. He paced back and forth a few times before turning to Hizashi.

“I don’t want to single him out. If he thinks he’s under a microscope, he’ll just hide more. We need to watch, not interrogate.”

Mic leaned in, the beginnings of a grin pulling at his mouth. “You mean, like, casual surveillance.”

Aizawa gave him a dry look, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Exactly. I’ll keep an eye on him in class - see if the patterns shift. You’ve got hallway duty this week, right?”

“You bet,” Mic said, brightening. “I can check in between periods. See who he talks to, if he’s eating, that kind of thing.” Mic picked his mug back up and took a sip of his coffee.

Aizawa nodded, already mapping out the day in his head. “Nothing obvious. If you notice anything - something off, something that doesn’t fit - let me know. I’ll do the same.”

Mic saluted with his mug. “Operation: Subtle Teacher Surveillance. Got it.”

Aizawa snorted, but some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Let’s just make sure he’s okay. Quietly.”

Mic grinned. “We’re pros, Sho. He won’t suspect a thing.”

Together, they sat in companionable silence, both already watching the world in new, careful ways - ready to catch what might otherwise slip through the cracks.

Notes:

I thought about having them go straight to Nedzu, but that would completely box out the plan I was writing this fic around - so ultimately I didn't do that.

I'm officially over 10,000 words with this fic!!

As always leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoy the fic :)

Chapter 12: and here i thought today was going to be boring

Summary:

Mic and Aizawa deal with the paparazzi.

Aizawa and Hizashi arrived at school on Wednesday to hordes of paparazzi outside the gates of UA.

They were currently being held back by some of Ectoplasm’s clones.

Hizashi tapped a beat out on the steering wheel as he drove the car into the back entrance where the staff parking was located. He cut the engine and looked over at Aizawa - eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted toward the crowd of photographers. 

“I’m glad we could enter work without someone snapping a picture of your coffee cup,”Hizashi said with a smirk.

Aizawa glared and picked up his cat mug. He took a sip then responded, “Unlike you, I don’t need attention to function,” Aizawa said flatly, setting the mug back down.

Hizashi let out a bark of laughter. “Hey, some of us thrive in the spotlight, Shouta. You thrive in the shadows like a weird, overworked ninja.”

Aizawa grunted. “At least the shadows don’t try to interview me about my ‘hero aesthetic.’”

Hizashi was still chuckling as they stepped out of the car and headed toward the staff entrance. The low rumble of camera shutters echoed faintly from beyond the gate, and Aizawa could make out the flashes through the trees. It looked like chaos, but after so many years in hero work, it barely registered as more than an annoyance.

Hizashi matched Aizawa’s pace as they moved through the halls. “Class rep day, huh? Place your bets, Sho -  do you think the green bean actually wants to be a class rep?”

Aizawa didn’t answer right away, picturing Midoriya’s nervous focus, the way he took in every classmate like it was a math problem he could solve if he just thought hard enough. “He’ll try to avoid it. He doesn’t see himself that way. But I’ll be watching.”

Hizashi nodded. “Me too. Subtle, of course.”

They walked the familiar path toward 1-A’s classroom together. The energy behind the door was jittery, all restless chatter- students psyching themselves up for the first chance at leadership, or trying not to seem too eager.

Aizawa paused, hand on the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for… anything. Watch how they treat him, how he reacts if his name even gets mentioned.”

Hizashi flashed him a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll catch the gossip between periods, act like I’m just spreading the morning news.”

Aizawa’s reply was half a sigh, half a laugh. “Just don’t get caught starting rumors.”

With one last moment of quiet, he slid the door open and stepped into the classroom where, any minute now, a new sort of test would start - not just for his students, but for the quiet, stubborn kid who was still learning what it meant to be seen.

***

The sharp blare of the perimeter alarms cut through the quiet hum of the teacher’s lounge, startling a few staff mid-bite. Aizawa was on his feet before the second tone even finished, scarf already in hand. Beside him, Hizashi shoved his chair back with a screech.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Hizashi muttered, slamming down his chopsticks. “We just got those guys pushed back this morning!”

Aizawa’s expression was unreadable as he strode toward the door. He tapped the comm in his earpiece as he walked. “Security feed, now. Who tripped it?”

“Unknown,” came Ectoplasm’s voice, crackling through the line. “Multiple breaches. South and east perimeters.”

“Copy,” Aizawa said. “We’re on our way.”

“You remember the plan?” Hizashi asked, voice already warming up.

Aizawa didn’t bother to answer. He never needed to repeat a plan to Hizashi - and this was one they had perfected. The two of them moving like two halves of a practiced machine: Hizashi forward, charisma and volume as the buffer; Aizawa behind, silent and precise, ready to step in if the buffer became a liability.

They emerged into chaos. The noise hit first- shouted questions, camera shutters, and the shrill buzz of hovering drones. The open courtyard that should have been filled with students on break was swarming with bodies instead - reporters, camera crews, and opportunists spilling through the gaps in the security barriers.

Hizashi’s jaw dropped. “What the hell - how did they get in?”

Aizawa’s eyes flicked immediately to the nearest gate. It looked… like a pile of rubble. Did someone’s quirk blast it open? Was it the press? 

Aizawa shook his head and returned his attention to the situation in front of him. 

“Are you sure we can’t beat them up for trespassing,” Hizashi mutters to Aizawa.

“You can’t protect the students if you go to jail for assault”, Aizawa replies.

Hizashi nodded in acknowledgement and then stepped forward, plastering on his signature media grin.

“Good afternoon everyone,” Hizashi started off with his trademark grin, “The staff at UA understand the public’s curiosity - we’re proud of our students and staff too! But we’ve got protocols for a reason, so I’m gonna need everyone to move back before this turns into the wrong kind of headline.”

Aizawa stepped forward then seeing that the crowd made no move to follow instructions, his voice calm but sharp. “You’re trespassing on private grounds. Leave immediately.”

The nearest reporter - an eager-looking man with a camera strapped to his vest - rushed forward anyway. “Present Mic! Can you give us a statement about All -?”

Aizawa’s scarf shot out faster than the man could finish the question, wrapping around the camera and yanking it to the ground. The flash bulb shattered against the pavement.

“I said leave,” Aizawa repeated, his tone dangerously low.

Hizashi stepped up beside him, his grin tight and cold. “You heard the man, folks! Back it up before you lose your hearing privileges!”

A few of the paparazzi hesitated, but finally started to backpedal as Midnight and Cementoss appeared from the opposite side of the courtyard, police reinforcements flanking the teachers.

Aizawa scanned the area again, mentally noting the angles, the flow of people, the ease with which they’d breached the gate. Too easy. 

Hizashi walked up beside him, watching as the remaining paparazzi were led away . “They’re gone. For now. But that looked way too coordinated, man.”

“Yeah,” Aizawa murmured, eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t a coincidence. Someone helped them get in.”

As Aizawa looked back at the ruined gate he filed two thoughts away: Someone was testing UA’s defenses. And this was only the beginning.

Notes:

This is my last finished chapter for now. I have one that is partially completed but between grading and my current cold, my uploads are probably going to be a little more sporadic. Thank you to everyone who has read this far! As always, leave a kudos or a comment if you like what you're reading.

Chapter 13: scopophobia

Summary:

Midoriya is more observant than people give him credit for and it makes him nervous. His mom comes home.

Midoriya spent the rest of the week feeling antsy.

Now not only was Aizawa glancing at him more often than usual - Present Mic was too.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it started - maybe Wednesday - but the pattern had become too clear to ignore. Aizawa’s glances were sharper, longer. And every time he looked up, it felt like Present Mic just so happened to be passing by the door, whistling with that easy grin of his.

At first, Midoriya told himself it was a coincidence. UA teachers were observant, after all - especially Aizawa. Maybe he was just trying to make sure no one slacked off.

But then came the little things.

Aizawa started calling on him more during class. Present Mic striking up casual hallway conversations that ended up feeling like check-ins - “You eating okay, listener?” or “You look tired, maybe go easy on the late-night study marathons, ya dig?”

They were kind. They weren’t intrusive. But they were… consistent.  Too consistent.

And when you’d spent most of your life trying not to draw attention, consistency like that felt like a spotlight.

By Friday, Midoriya’s nerves were fraying. He dropped his pen twice before homeroom even started. His notes were becoming sloppy, which was rare for him. Aizawa noticed, of course.

“Midoriya,” came the low voice from the front.

He startled. “Y-yes, Sensei?”

“You’re off today. Focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

He tried. He really did. But the words blurred, and all he could think about was whether Aizawa could somehow tell -  that his mom wasn’t home, that the house had been too quiet all week, that he’d been surviving on instant noodles and late-night notebooks.

He’d hidden it well before. He was good at it. He’d had practice.But this was different.
Aizawa didn’t look through people the way most teachers did. He looked into them.

And Midoriya could feel that scrutiny every time their eyes met -  a silent, unspoken question he didn’t know how to answer.

He managed to make it through the class without tripping over himself again, but the relief that usually came with the end of classes didn’t follow. Instead, he lingered near the exit, pretending to double-check his schedule.

When Aizawa walked past, scarf trailing, he nodded slightly,  that same unreadable expression in place.

“Get some rest this weekend,” he said, not slowing.

Midoriya nodded too quickly. “Yes, Sensei.”

Aizawa didn’t turn, but he spoke again as he reached the door. “And eat something real. Instant food doesn’t count.”

Midoriya froze.

He hadn’t told anyone. No one had seen him buy groceries, no one had come over, no one -

By the time he looked up, Aizawa was gone.

His stomach twisted. It wasn’t fear, exactly. It was something more complicated -  a mix of embarrassment, guilt, and an ache he didn’t have words for.

He should’ve felt exposed. But instead, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt… seen.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave his head as he packed his bag. How much did Aizawa know?

And worse -  how long before he asked?

***

Midoriya arrived home to the television quietly playing what sounded like the romance dramas his mom liked. That’s… unusual. He wasn’t expecting her to be home this weekend. 

Midoriya popped his head into his mom’s room and sure enough, there she was, collapsed onto the bed. He turned off the television and pulled the blanket over her, then walked to the kitchen to start preparing dinner for when she woke up.

Not long after he started cooking he heard a rustling sound coming from his mom’s room. She walked to the kitchen with an unreadable expression on her face.

“You normally have dinner done by now”, she muttered, head low. She then raised her head- and her voice- to say “thank you for being thoughtful enough to turn the tv off to save me money before making dinner”

Midoriya didn’t respond.

Once he finished dinner, he took his bowl to his room to work on his next teacher observation.He flipped to a fresh page, smiling faintly. His pen hovered for a moment before he began to write:

Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 14 : Entry #4
Teacher Observation: Present Mic (Hizashi Yamada)
Quirk: Voice. Amplifies vocal power to extreme decibel levels. Can cause disorientation or incapacitation in opponents. Range appears adjustable - capable of targeted bursts. Uses directional control well despite volume output. Likely trained for crowd control or mass evacuation. Can
Personality: Loud. Very loud. Outgoing, confident, easy to talk to. Calls everyone by nicknames (including Aizawa-sensei, which is... brave). Seems like the kind of hero who makes people feel safe just by being there.
Note: He talks like everything’s a performance, but when he thinks no one’s watching, he looks… different. Calmer. Serious. I think he notices more than he lets on.
Second Note: He and Aizawa- Sensei may be close friends 

Midoriya paused, reading over what he’d written. He began to smile larger, and more genuine.
He hadn’t realized it before, but Mic’s energy filled the room the same way sunlight did - a little overwhelming at first, but warm once you adjusted to it.
And after everything that had happened so far this week, warmth felt like something worth holding onto.

Chapter 14: ghost of drama yet to come

Summary:

Aizawa and Mic talk about the week and their observations about Midoriya. They make a tentative plan to talk with Midoriya about his home life.

Aizawa arrived home after his Saturday evening patrol to his husband having a conversation with the cats. Hizashi almost sounded like he was mediating a disagreement between two students. Aizawa carefully shut the door behind him so as not to disturb the scene and listened in.

“I understand you feel like it is your turn to sit on the top of the cat tree, Bast, but the feeling I believe Dee was trying to express by pushing you off the top was that she was upset you wouldn’t share”. Hizashi looked as if he was about to continue, but at that moment Bastard jumped to the top of the cat tree.

Hizashi threw his hands up and turned around. His face split into a grin when he spotted Aizawa who was leaning against the wall with a fond smile on his face. “Welcome home, Sho! Did you have a safe patrol?”

Aizawa pushed off of the wall and responded “It was overall a pretty quiet night - only a few muggings. I spent most of the night thinking.”

“Thinking about the events of the week?”Hizashi responded.

Aizawa nodded as he set his capture weapon aside and began tugging off his boots. He sat down in the chair next to Hizashi and ran a tired hand over his face. “Yeah,” he responded softly, “Thinking about Midoriya,that weird phone call with his mom, and that class rep election.”

Hizashi perked up, curiosity flickering behind his glasses. “Oh, yeah! I heard about that. Kid got elected and then turned it down, right? That’s... not exactly the usual UA move.”

Aizawa nodded slowly, gaze distant. “The class nominated him without hesitation. You could see how much they respected him already. But he stood up there and said he didn’t think he was the right person for it - that Iida was more suited. Said it in front of everyone, and no one argued.”

Hizashi gave a low whistle. “So, he redirected the vote. That’s pretty mature for a first-year.”

“It was,” Aizawa admitted. “But it wasn’t just humility. He saw how the others looked to Iida after that alarm during lunch. How quickly Iida took control of the situation. Midoriya recognized leadership in someone else and acted on it, using that action to redirect the attention away from himself.”

Hizashi leaned back, impressed. “So, the kid’s got a read on people. That’s rare.”

Aizawa’s expression softened. “He does. He watches everything. The way he tracks group dynamics, body language - it’s instinctive. But that’s what worries me.”

Hizashi tilted his head. “Because he’s too observant?”

Aizawa’s eyes flicked toward the cats now circling each other on the floor. “Because he’s used to being observant. People don’t get that good at reading others unless they’ve had to. Unless they’ve learned that paying attention keeps them safe.”

Hizashi’s joking demeanor faded. “You think that ties back to whatever’s going on at home?”

“I don’t know yet,” Aizawa said, voice low. “But there’s something about how he carries himself - like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Always scanning, always anticipating. It’s not fear, exactly. It's a survival instinct.”

Hizashi frowned, “That’s… heavy for a kid his age. You think he’s hiding more than just overtraining?”

“I think he’s been hiding everything,” Aizawa replied. “And the more I watch, the more I’m convinced that someone taught him to make himself small when things get difficult.”

Hizashi let out a slow breath, studying his husband. “And now you’re wondering who that someone was.”

Aizawa nodded, the exhaustion clear in his posture. “Exactly. He doesn't react to pressure the way most of them do. He internalizes it instead. And then he overcompensates - trains harder, studies longer, pushes past his limits like he’s trying to earn the right to be there.”

Hizashi was quiet for a long moment, the seriousness in his expression a rare thing. “You think he’s living alone, don’t you?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” Aizawa admitted. “And the more I see, the harder it is to ignore. Also…”

A beat passed between the two with only the sound of Dumpster jumping to the top of the cat tree.

Aizawa exhaled through his nose. “I can’t let it go. The inconsistencies in the phone call, the tone in his mother’s voice - it doesn’t add up. She sounded… off. Like she was trying to convince herself everything was fine.”

Hizashi tilted his head as if in thought. “Maybe she’s just nervous. Not everyone handles teachers calling home so well. Especially UA teachers. I mean, your reputation isn’t exactly ‘comforting guidance counselor,’ ya dig?”

That earned him a mild glare, though there was no heat in it. Aizawa crossed his arms. “I wasn’t interrogating her. I asked basic welfare questions. But she sidestepped every one. Then the call dropped.”

Hizashi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I've said it before, I'll say it again -  you have to tell Nedzu, Sho. If it’s true, he needs help - real help, not just observation.”

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. “I know. Monday when we get back from the USJ. I want to talk to Midoriya first . If I move too early to talking to Nedzu, I risk making him feel cornered. He’s finally starting to trust me.”

Hizashi reached over, touching his hand lightly. “Then we’ll figure it out carefully. You’re not alone in this, you know.”

Aizawa gave a tired but genuine nod. “I know.”

For a moment, they sat quietly - the only sound was the soft thump of Bastard reclaiming the top of the cat tree.

Finally, Mic sighed and reached over, squeezing Aizawa’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Sho. You always do. Just - don’t forget to rest in the meantime, yeah? Even underground heroes need a break.”

Aizawa’s mouth twitched, half a smirk. “You’re one to talk. I heard you facilitating an ‘I feel’ discussion with the cats.”

Mic laughed, unabashed. “Hey, communication is key in any relationship - even interspecies ones!”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, the tension easing just a little. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Mic said softly, settling back with a smile that was more fond than teasing. “But you love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately,” Aizawa murmured, but his tone made it sound more like an admission than a complaint.

The cats meowed in agreement, and for the first time all week, the weight pressing against Aizawa’s chest felt just a bit lighter.

Notes:

We are finally getting to the part I am really excited about! I can't wait for you to read the next couple of chapters! Things are finally starting to come together for this and I will have more time to write in the next couple of weeks. Leave a kudos or a comment if you like what you read :)

Chapter 15: interlude of observation

Summary:

The USJ trip is announced and the students gear up for a rescue simulation. Aizawa makes some more observations in class during the announcement and on the bus ride over.

Aizawa had been scanning the classroom since the moment students began arriving, cataloguing the usual patterns - Bakugo’s restless energy, Uraraka’s open enthusiasm, Iida’s over-prepared posture - and, of course, Midoriya’s nervous tension coiled tight as a spring.

It wasn’t new, but it was… different today. The kid’s exhaustion hung heavier than before - faint shadows under his eyes, his shoulders hunched slightly like he was bracing for something unseen.

When their gazes met, Aizawa let his stare soften. Just a fraction. A silent reassurance: I see you. You’re fine.
Midoriya blinked, startled, then ducked his head quickly , his shoulders relaxing just a fraction - and that, Aizawa thought, said more than any verbal response could.

“Listen up”, Aizawa turned his attention to the rest of the class, “Today’s training will be a little different. You’ll have three instructors. Me, All Might, and another faculty member will be keeping tabs on you.” 

Aizawa took note of the way Midoriya’s body seemed to stiffen briefly at the mention of All Might. While he was wondering what implications that could have, Sero raised his hand.

“Sir, what kind of training will we be doing?”

Aizawa held out his hand with a placard that the staff had made to announce training types for simulations. “Rescue training”

The word hung in the air, sparking a mix of excitement and nervous murmuring from the students.

But Aizawa’s eyes drifted back to Midoriya one more time. The kid’s pen had stopped tapping, his hands clenched tight against the edge of his desk.

Rescue training - pressure, stakes, simulation of loss.

It would tell him a lot.

Maybe more than Midoriya wanted anyone to know.

***

The bus ride to the USJ was supposed to be routine - a simple transition between the classroom and the training facility. It never was, not with this class.

Aizawa stood near the front, leaning against one of the handrails, pretending to read through the training outline on his tablet. In reality, his attention was divided -  one ear tuned to the conversation unfolding among his students.

The energy on the bus was easy, almost playful. Mina and Asui were chatting across the aisle, Kaminari cracking jokes loud enough for half the bus to hear. Typical.

Then someone - Asui, surprisingly enough -  brought up Bakugo’s personality.

“Bakugo’s always angry, so he wouldn’t be very popular as a pro hero”.

As if proving her point Bakugo bristled instantly, snapping something vulgar in return. The volume rose a notch, tension weighing the air down before Aizawa could even look up.

He didn’t intervene yet - he wanted to see how the others handled it.

Most were laughing - various ‘I told you so’s’ being exchanged.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Midoriya. The kid wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling.

Midoriya had gone still. His shoulders had tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat like he was waiting for something worse to happen.

Like he’d seen this scene before. And knew exactly how quickly it could turn.

Aizawa’s gaze flicked briefly toward him, assessing him.

It wasn’t fear, exactly -  it was a reflex. Learned behavior. Midoriya’s body knew to brace before his mind even caught up.

Aizawa looked back toward Bakugo, who was still shouting, still posturing - but there was no true malice there now. The boy’s temper burned hot and fast, but it faded just as quickly once the teasing lost its edge.

He watched Midoriya slowly realize that, watched as the tension left his shoulders as Bakugo slouched back into his seat, muttering about “extras.”

Aizawa exhaled softly through his nose. He didn’t like what that moment implied.

Whatever had gone on between those two before UA, it hadn’t been a simple rivalry. Midoriya’s instincts were too sharp -  too conditioned. That kind of vigilance didn’t come from competitiveness. It came from experience.

He turned his attention back to the tablet in his hand, but his mind was elsewhere.

Midoriya’s empathy was one of his strongest traits, but it was also dangerous. The kid could read Bakugo’s moods better than anyone else in the room, and could probably predict his reactions before they even happened. That kind of understanding didn’t just appear. It was the result of years spent watching, learning how not to provoke, how to deescalate a situation before things went too far.

A survival mechanism.

Hizashi would’ve said he was overanalyzing things. Nedzu would’ve told him to collect more data.

But Aizawa had been teaching long enough to recognize the shape of a trauma response when he saw one.

He made a quiet note in his head: Observe further. Especially during training.

He shifted his gaze back toward the rows of seats. Midoriya was staring out the window now, half-listening as Iida tried to redirect the conversation toward strategy and teamwork.

The kid nodded along, but his reflection in the glass - tired eyes, tight jaw - told a different story.

Aizawa sighed softly.
The bus rumbled on toward the USJ, sunlight flashing across the students’ faces in intervals, like the calm before a storm he already felt was coming.

Notes:

Turns out I really like dragging this out :)

I have a lot planned for the USJ arc and already have another chapter written that I will probably post when I write one more. I have no set schedule for this, but I will not leave this story hanging because I have a lot of ideas.

I will also probably go back at some point and redo the chapter titles because I am not a huge fan of them.

Chapter 16: uninvited guests

Summary:

Class 1A is greeted by Thirteen upon arriving at the USJ. They tell the class about what to expect for the day and what it truly means to be a hero. Class is interrupted by an unknown party.

Notes:

Happy birthday to my fave Shouta Aizawa! 🎉🎉

Stepping off of the bus, Midoriya felt a wave of excitement come over him. The USJ was huge! 

As Class 1A approached the looming building, they were greeted by Thirteen. Midoriya thought back to when Aizawa introduced the exercise and realized this must be the other faculty member that was mentioned. He would have to make a new entry on them in his new notebook, he knew about their quirk but he didn’t have any information on what were they like - 

Midoriya looks up when someone lightly elbows him. 

Next to him, Shinsou gives a small smile.  “You were thinking out loud”, he says affixing his mask to his face.

“Thanks”, Midoriya responds looking down. He moves to pull out a notebook so he can write down everything Thirteen says. Feeling ready, he tunes in to what the Rescue Hero is saying.

“Welcome to the USJ! I am Thirteen and my quirk is Black Hole. If you follow me, I will give you a brief rundown on the sections of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short.”

Thirteen led the class into the entrance of the USJ. Around him, he heard various exclamations of amazement as Thirteen moved to continue their speech.

Midoriya forced himself to focus as Thirteen continued.

“- each zone here is designed to simulate disaster conditions. Floods, landslides, building collapses, you name it. The goal is to practice rescue operations safely, without putting civilians - or yourselves - in danger.”

Midoriya’s pencil moved almost on its own. His handwriting was a bit shaky, but he managed to jot down the key points. Flood zone, mountain zone, landslide zone, shipwreck zone - visibility issues, communication challenges, teamwork critical.

He wanted to remember everything.
This was the kind of hero work people didn’t talk about enough. No explosions, no glory. Just doing what needed to be done.

His eyes flicked up to Thirteen as they continued explaining the dangers of their Quirk. Black Hole - can absorb anything and turn it into dust. Rescue power but dangerous without control. Must maintain focus, restraint.

He underlined that last word. Restraint.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Aizawa standing off to the side -  arms folded, expression unreadable.
Even without saying anything, he was watching. Not in a bad way -  it was more like he was taking the class’s temperature. Checking who was ready, who wasn’t.

Midoriya knew Aizawa didn’t miss much.
He also knew that meant he’d probably noticed the way Midoriya had been scribbling, or muttering earlier, or the fact that his hands were still shaking a little from excitement.

He ducked his head again.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want Aizawa to notice him. It’s just… he wasn’t sure what the man saw when he did.

Around him, the class buzzed with chatter. Sero was joking with Kaminari about which zone looked the coolest. Ashido and Uraraka were whispering excitedly about Thirteen’s suit. Even Bakugo looked like he was holding back a grin -  though maybe that was just the anticipation of blowing something up during training..

Thirteen gestured toward the zones spread out below the observation platform. “Today, you’ll learn what it truly means to be a hero -  not through fighting villains, but through saving lives.”

Midoriya’s heart swelled at that.
That- right there - was why he’d always admired Thirteen. Heroes like them saved people through compassion, through skill and precision. Midoriya thought about all of the rescues he had heard performed by Thirteen in the past and how carefully they performed various rescues - using Black Hole only to the point of pulling people to safety.

He was so caught up in the thought that he almost didn’t notice the flicker of movement in the center plaza.

Almost.

The fountain seemed to stutter - looking briefly like there was a water pressure issue. The lights around the USJ also flickered, before dimming. Midoriya blinked, squinting down at the plaza. For a moment, he thought it was part of the simulation.

Then the air itself began to twist.

Aizawa moved instantly. 

Midoriya barely registered the blur of his scarf and some words called over to Thirteen.

 “This is not part of the exercise. Protect the students.”

The atmosphere in the dome changed - the hum of chatter turned into sharp silence. Then, a low, rumbling sound echoed from the center of the USJ as dark energy began to spiral upward, forming a void.

Thirteen froze.  They shifted into a protective stance between the class and the plaza

Midoriya’s breath caught.

That wasn’t a simulation.
That was a warp quirk.

And something was stepping out of it.

Notes:

I have two more chapters already written and will probably post the next one tomorrow. I really wanted to get one posted on Aizawa's birthday! Also, I was literally pacing and talking about this with my cat last night - hence the two chapters - so any mistakes are my own, please feel free to leave me any constructive criticism!

We are getting into the angsty stuff here soon and I literally slapped a hand over my own mouth at the thought of it- so consider yourself warned :)

Chapter 17: point of no return

Summary:

Shinsou, Tsuyu, and Midoriya work together to escape the Shipwreck Zone.

Notes:

I definitely meant to post this yesterday, but I've been super sick. Enjoy a bit of a longer chapter as a result!

Midoriya watched as Aizawa swung down to face the villains by himself. He knew Aizawa was strong - and he had his quirk to back him up - but he was still nervous. Thirteen was motioning for the class to leave - quickly.

Midoriya hesitated briefly at the edge of the stairwell before turning around to the rest of the class. When he did, a smoke covered man stood before the class. 

“There is no escape for you” , Midoriya watched as Bakugo and Kirishima started to move closer while the villain was making his speech, “ We are the League of Villains and we decided to invite ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. And besides, isn't this a fitting place for All Might the Symbol of Peace to take his last breath? I believe he was supposed to be here today and yet I see no sign of him”

Midoriya gasped quietly. This group must have used the paparazzi as cover to break into UA. He shifted his attention back to what the villain was saying, trying to gather as much information as he could.

“ - In the end I suppose it doesn’t matter, I still have a role to play.”

At that moment Thirteen, Bakugo, and Kirishima all moved. 

Bakugo and Kirishima lunged for the villain, seemingly coming up with a game plan together. Thirteen prepared to use their quirk, Black Hole,  to suck the villain up.

“Did you think we were going to just stand around and let you tear this place to shreds?”Kirishima asked.

Both him and Bakugo aimed attacks in tandem. Kirishima threw a hardened punch at the villain and Bakugo forced explosions toward the villain that obscured everyone's view momentarily. 

There was  a brief moment of silence.

Then the  villain emerged from the smoke unscathed and responded, “You surely live up to your school’s reputation. I will scatter you across the facility to meet my comrades and your deaths!”

Midoriya watched as some sort of purple field obscured everyone’s vision - including Thirteen who was still trying to use their quirk, but couldn’t at this point without risk of hurting one of the students. He heard the screams of people around him. Then eventually he felt as he himself was dragged off somewhere.

***

When Midoriya emerged from the purple field he found himself dropped into water, surrounded by villains. He would have been shark bait too, if not for Asui and her quirk.

When Midoriya and Asui got out of the water they met up with Shinsou who was also in the zone. The purple haired boy looked more tired than he was prior to entering the facility - if that were even possible. 

Shinsou was sitting on the ground of the boat holding his arm which appeared to be broken. 

“What happened?”, Midoriya asked looking concerned.

“I landed on the boat instead of in the water,” Shinso responded, “But this is the least of our worries. Any ideas for getting out of here?”

Midoriya looked at the two students with him. “What exactly are your quirks - Asui I have an idea but I need to know for sure”

“I told you to call me Tsuyu, kero,” Asui -Tsuyu - started, “ I can do everything that a frog can do. So I can jump high, cling to pretty much any wall, and stick my tongue out about 20 meters. Oh yeah, I can spit out my stomach so I can clean it - but that’s not really useful-  and I can secrete a toxic mucus - it just stings a bit.”

Midoriya nodded while raising both of his eyebrows, “ I figured you were powerful, but that’s amazing! I have my super strength, but it comes at a price. Once I use it, I’m pretty much out of commission.It’s a double-edged sword until I can control it”

He turned toward Shinsou, who was watching him with quiet wariness. Shinsou leaned towards the others.

“My quirk’s called Brainwashing,” Shinsou said finally. “If someone responds to a question I ask, I can make them do what I say.” He looked away, voice softening. “People don’t really think it’s hero material.”

“That’s a great quirk!,” Midoriya exclaimed, being mindful of the fact they were currently surrounded by villains, “How many people can you catch in your quirk at once? Have you tried making people do complicated actions or just simple ones? What -”

He stopped when Tsuyu placed a gentle hand on his elbow. Shinso was looking at him wide- eyed. “You really think my quirk is … good?”

“Of course!”Midoriya responded, earnest and steady now. “Heroes aren’t about flashy powers - they’re about saving people. And right now, your quirk might be the key to saving all of us.”

Shinsou’s mouth opened, then shut again. The disbelief on his face cracked just enough to let something like hope through.

Midoriya smiled. “I’ve got a plan. It’s risky, but if you’re ready, we can do this - together.”

Tsuyu nodded once. “Then let’s hop to it, kero.”

Midoriya looked out across the water, villains circling closer, and felt the rush of purpose burn through his fear. For the first time since landing in the USJ, the chaos had a pattern - and he was going to use it.

***

Midoriya’s pulse thundered in his ears as he glanced around the artificial lake. The villains were circling closer - he could count at least eight -  all of them grinning like they already knew how this story would end.

Except they didn’t know Midoriya.

“Alright,” he said quietly, crouching beside Tsuyu and Shinsou. “They think we’re cornered. We can use that.”

Tsuyu tilted her head. “What are you thinking, Midoriya?”

He took a breath, forcing his thoughts to slow, to organize. Just like Aizawa had drilled into them: Observe. Prioritize. Execute.

“Shinsou, your quirk works through spoken response, right? If we can bait at least one of them into answering you, we can turn him against the others. Tsuyu - you use your tongue to pull us out of here we’ve got control of the situation.”

Tsuyu blinked once, then smiled faintly. “Got it.”

Shinsou nodded, jaw tightening. “I can do it. I just need at least one of them to talk.”

Midoriya scanned the nearest villain - the one who had just cut their boat in half. “Good. Because he looks like the talkative type.”

Shinsou stood, his fingers on his broken arm were shaking - either from fear or pain. He yelled out across the water, “Hey! What’s the plan? Gonna brag about how tough you are before you lose?”

The villain sneered. “You got a death wish, kid?”

His voice came out more calm, steady, commanding. “Pull your friends underwater and keep them there.”

The villain’s face went blank. Then, without hesitation, he lunged toward his own group, dragging the nearest two beneath the surface in a flurry of bubbles and thrashing limbs.

Tsuyu’s eyes widened. “That worked.”

“Move!” Midoriya hissed.

They darted toward the edge of the zone, Tsuyu leaping from debris to debris, carrying both boys with effortless strength. Shinsou gritted his teeth but didn’t complain, even as the motion jostled his injured arm.

When they landed near the rocky incline, Midoriya looked over at Shinsou. “You did it,” he said, voice full of genuine awe.

Shinsou gave a shaky half-smile. “Guess it’s hero material after all.”

Before Midoriya could respond, a sound split the air - a deep crack that wasn’t thunder, but impact.

Midoriya froze. The noise came from the central plaza.

Aizawa.

He turned toward the dome’s heart, dread curling low in his stomach. He could see flashes of movement - Aizawa’s scarf, streaks of light, so many villains he lost count.

For a moment, the world shrank to that sight: his teacher, alone, facing a large number of enemies.

Midoriya swallowed hard. “We need to regroup with the others. Now.”

Tsuyu nodded, tightening her grip on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Lead the way, Midoriya.”

And just like that, the three of them started moving again.

Aizawa’s voice echoed in Midoriya’s head, calm and certain even amid chaos: You don’t have to win to be a hero. You just have to keep moving.

So he did.

Notes:

Where are you going Izuku? Find out next time I post :)

Also I am going to go back and edit this, I have decided that I want to change the names I am using in this fic - I want the names to match up with what the characters would call that person and not be the same for everyone. (ex. When Aizawa is talking about Present Mic, the name would be Hizashi vs. Midoriya would be Present Mic.)

Chapter 18: now we've really hit the point of no return

Summary:

Aizawa is fighting for his life in the plaza against all sorts of villains. Midoriya comes to help - but is it too late for either of them?

The group of three had reached the plaza just in time to watch as Aizawa’s elbow was disintegrated by the handsy villain. Midoriya was conflicted. He looked to his right at the people he now considered friends and knew that they should keep moving to find the others, but that injury would seriously impede Aizawa's fighting style.The group watched in silence as Aizawa defeated three villains essentially one-handed, proving Midoriya wrong and showing that he did have more than one trick up his sleeve.  

Then a giant monster like nothing Midoriya had ever seen before moved up beside Aizawa. It was massive. Muscle- bound with its brain exposed to the open air. It made every other villain in the plaza look tiny by comparison. The monster grabbed Aizawa’s head in one of its hands and smashed it on the ground, pieces of Aizawa’s yellow goggles and concrete flying through the air. 

Midoriya took a gasping breath as he watched Aizawa be held down with one hand - the monster moving to perch on Aizawa’s legs. 

“One of the students got away”, the mist villain reported,  “The hero Thirteen is unconscious, but those hero students teamed up and overwhelmed me not long after I warped the others away.”

The handsy villain began scratching at his neck with four of his fingers. Five- point contact quirk? 

Midoriya looked to Tsuyu and Shinsou as the two villains were discussing retreating. He had a bad feeling about this.”We should move towards the stairs - try to go get help”

Tsuyu seemed to be on the same page as him as she nodded her head in agreement, eyes frozen in fear on the scene before her.

They watched as the monster seemed to come out of its dissociation to snap one of Aizawa’s arms.

Then Midoriya moved without thinking - right into the plaza.

***

Aizawa thought the fight was coming to an end when he was facing the guy with the hands on his face. He thought he was the most powerful. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

He had prepared himself to die in his career as a Pro Hero. That was something he had expected could happen. He didn’t think his job as a teacher at UA would be what led to his death. 

Lying with his face pressed into the pavement, barely able to turn his head to the side to look at what is going on, he prepares himself again.

His mind wanders to Oboro. Is this how he felt in his last moments? Will he get to see his friend again after all of this time?

He sees the smoke villain appear again and hears that one of his students escaped. Good. He thinks. Hopefully, it was Iida and help will arrive soon.

But he doesn’t have long to dwell on that thought as he feels his arm being snapped. 

The next thing to cross his vision is the lightning of his Problem Child’s quirk as Midoriya punches the arm the Nomu is using to hold Aizawa in place

He watched, half-delirious, as his student punched the Nomu’s arm - the same one pinning Aizawa to the ground. The impact barely moved it, but Aizawa felt the weight on the back of his legs shift, just barely.

He hears another punch from above him - the top of the Nomu, by the brain this time. The Nomu had to release Aizawa’s head so the Nomu could use both arms to try to get Midoriya off.’

Aizawa tried to push himself up, muscles trembling, but his broken arm gave way. He could only lift his head enough to see Midoriya fighting for his life.

The mist villain - Kurogiri  he thinks - moves towards the Nomu in an effort to assist. Aizawa doesn’t want to be separated from any of his students again, especially not with help hopefully fast approaching.

Aizawa erases Kurogiri’s quirk and sees someone he thought he wouldn’t see again until he died.

“Oboro”, Aizawa whispered, voice raw, holding on to Erasure even as his eyes burned.

***

This couldn’t get any worse. Help was coming. That was the mantra that played inside Aizawa’s head as he held Erasure.

Aizawa’s eyes stung, but he didn’t dare blink. The pain he felt was inconsequential compared to the thought of losing someone else.

Then Shigaraki’s voice broke through with an order. 

“Nomu. Get off of him. Kill the brat.”

Aizawa’s legs were broken and all he could do was listen. He heard the scrape of shoes, the desperate shouts of his students echoing in the cavernous space. Fear and fury tangled in his chest, suffocating him. 

He was their teacher. This was his job. But now, helpless, all he could do was hope. 

Aizawa froze as he heard a scream from behind him. He couldn’t turn to look. He heard a crack - bone or cement, it didn’t matter - and then another cry, weaker, desperate.

“Midoriya!” His voice was a hoarse whisper, torn from his throat.  He could hear Asui shouting, Shinsou cursing from somewhere behind him. These were his students - his kids - and he couldn’t reach them.

His hands clenched into the ground, gravel digging into his palms. Not again. Please, not again.

Aizawa held his eyes open, desperate not to let Kurogiri warp them away from each other. He could only repeat that single desperate thought, a prayer or a promise:

Hold on, Midoriya. Help is coming.

It had to be.

Notes:

I think I'm going to try to get on more of a regular posting schedule, especially since things are going to start getting really busy with school. My goal is to have a chapter out every weekend, starting this weekend because I know leaving it off here wouldn't be very nice :)

addition: I don't think that the students found out what Shigaraki and Kurogiri's names were until after USJ, which is why Midoriya doesn't refer to either of them by name.

Chapter 19: we'll be okay

Summary:

The fight comes to an end when the Pro Heroes from UA show up to help. Aizawa and Midoriya end up in the hospital.

Help arrived in the form of a bullet. Aizawa let his eyes finally close, relief washing over all of his features at the sound of the other Pro Heroes arrival.

As soon as he let Erasure drop, Kurogiri warped himself and Shigaraki out of the USJ.  The last thing said by the two of them was one final order for the Nomu to fight the newly arrived, angry Symbol of Peace. 

Aizawa didn’t have time to dwell on who he saw under the smoke, he needed to check on Midoriya. He turned as much as he could towards where he could see green hair and red shoes poking up. 

Present Mic had reached the plaza at that point. He currently was crouched next to Midoriya looking grim.

“Mic, please tell me he is still alive,” Aizawa said, voice breaking on the last word.

Present Mic looked up with tears in his eyes and gave a small reassuring smile, “He is, you did good.”

“Good… but not good enough.I was down for the count and he ended up jumping in to save me. He was alone. I should have - ” He cut himself off, moving to put his head down on his unbroken arm.

Mic placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Eraser… you got him through this. He’s breathing, he’s unconscious and a little beaten up, but he made it. That’s on you too.”  

For the first time since the fight began, Aizawa allowed himself to close his eyes completely. The mantra that had sustained him through the chaos - help is coming - had held true. And now, for the first time, he let himself believe it might continue to be so.

***

Aizawa wakes to blinding lights and a steady beeping noise. He was in the hospital. He turns to his left and spots Hizashi sitting in a chair asleep. He feels himself relax into the bed - if his husband was here, then the worst is over.

He shifted his head to the other side - and froze.

Another hospital bed. Another monitor beeping softly in time with his own. Green hair against a white pillow. Midoriya. He couldn’t quite remember how they ended up here.

Fragments of memory drifted back slowly - the Nomu’s hand smashing his head, the sound of bones snapping, Shigaraki’s laugh, someone screaming, the smell of dust and blood, and then… light. All Might’s voice. Mic saying something he couldn’t quite remember.

He turned back toward Hizashi, eyes lingering on his hero costume jacket thrown over the chair’s back. He didn’t have to ask to know he hadn’t left this room since the fight ended.

Aizawa closed his eyes, trying to piece together what he’d missed. How long have I been out? How many of my students were hurt? The questions spun quietly in his mind - too loud to ignore, too heavy to voice.

His attention drifted back to Midoriya. The beeping of the heartbeat monitors - slow and steady -  was the only thing keeping the room from being too quiet.

Aizawa sighed, the sound barely audible over the monitors. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you, Problem Child?” he murmured, his voice rough but faintly fond.

Hizashi stirred in the chair, blinking awake. His eyes widened when he saw Aizawa watching him.

“Sho!” he said, voice cracking between relief and disbelief. “You’re awake!”

Aizawa gave a small grunt. “Unfortunately.”

Hizashi laughed -  the sound shaky but genuine -  and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You scared the hell out of us, man.”

Aizawa’s eyes flicked toward Midoriya again. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one.”

Hizashi followed his gaze and nodded, his usual grin fading into something softer. “Kid took quite a hit, but he’s tough. He’ll pull through. Recovery Girl and some of the other specialists here have already been in several times to see both of you while you were out.”

Aizawa exhaled, a slow, careful breath. Relief settled in his chest. “Good,” he said simply. “That’s good.” There was a moment of silence. Then he added in a voice so quiet that it almost passed underneath the beeping, “He did well."

Hizashi smiled faintly. “Yeah, you both did.”

Aizawa let the pull of sleep drag him back under, knowing that he was going to find out more information when he woke up.

Notes:

Next chapter will be posted next Saturday! :)

Chapter 20: status report

Summary:

Aizawa wakes up in the hospital next to an unconscious Midoriya. He has several thoughts about the events of the USJ and concerning Midoriya that he talks over with Hizashi.

Notes:

20 chapters!!! Thank you so much for reading if you have stuck with it this far!

 

When Aizawa woke again, the room was dim. The window blinds were half-closed, letting in the fading light of late afternoon. The monitors still beeped steadily, and Mic was awake this time -  hunched forward in the same chair, scrolling through his phone, the furrows between his brows deeper than usual.

“You’re still here,” Aizawa rasped. His voice was raw, like sandpaper.

Hizashi jumped slightly, then exhaled a breath that was half a laugh. “Damn right I’m still here. You think I’m letting you out of my sight after that?”

Aizawa tried to sit up, grimacing as pain shot down his arm. He sank back against the pillows. “Status report,” he said, because habit was easier than admitting he felt like hell.

Hizashi set his phone down on his knee, expression sobering. He handed Aizawa a cup of water and responded, “You mean about the kid?”

Aizawa followed his gaze toward the bed next to his and took a sip of his water. Midoriya was still asleep, an IV in his arm, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.

“Yes,” Aizawa said quietly.

“He’s stable,” Hizashi replied. “Got off easier than you, surprisingly. Recovery Girl’s been in and out checking on him. Said the kid tried to stand up while half-conscious when they brought you both in.”

Aizawa sighed. “Of course he did. He continued to push his own body past the limit when he was hurt just to ensure the safety of someone else.” Aizawa paused, then looked toward Hizashi. “I saw him.”

Hizashi looked slightly confused. “Midoriya?”

“No, Oboro,” Aizawa replied. “He was there”

Hizashi looked even more confused and then glanced toward Midoriya before responding. “Like, you saw him in the kid?” 

Aizawa shook his head.  “I… saw him, Zashi. He was actually there, but I’m not sure how.” Aizawa glared down at the bed. “Everything from that day is still fragmented. It comes back in pieces - some things come back after some rest, while other parts are still out of reach. I … I think I need more time to fully remember” 

Hizashi nodded at his husband - the look shared between the two indicated that this would be something they revisited later. “There’s something else. But -” Hizashi hesitated and looked at Aizawa.

Aizawa looked over at Hizashi and gave a small, reassuring smile. “ Your worry is written all over your face. Just say whatever you aren’t saying.”

 We’ve been trying to reach Midoriya’s mom - to let her know that her son’s in the hospital . We haven’t been able to reach her” 

That made Aizawa’s eyes open fully. “At all?”

Hizashi shook his head. “Nedzu had admin check the UA contact file, too for other contacts. Same result. Her number rings, but nobody picks up. Two days now.”

Aizawa frowned, already feeling the familiar crawl of unease beneath his skin. “You think she’s avoiding us?”

“I don’t know, Sho. Maybe she’s scared, or maybe she’s just… dealing with it her own way. But it’s weird, right? Parent’s kid ends up in the hospital after a villain attack -  you’d expect them to be here.” 

Aizawa rubbed his temples with his good hand, jaw tightening. “Give me your phone.”

Hizashi blinked. “You sure that’s a good idea? You’re barely -”

“Phone, Hizashi.”

Hizashi handed it over.

Aizawa scrolled through to the contact file and found the number listed for Inko Midoriya. He pressed call.

The ring tone droned on and on  -  once, twice, five times  -  until it clicked to voicemail.

A woman’s voice, warm and gentle, came through:
“Hi! You’ve reached Inko Midoriya. Sorry I missed your call -  please leave a message!”

Aizawa waited through the tone.

“This is Shouta Aizawa,” he said, voice even but low. “Midoriya Izuku’s homeroom teacher. Please contact me or U.A. High as soon as you receive this message. Your son is safe, but we need to confirm some details about his care and… living arrangements.” He hesitated. “Please call back.”

He ended the call and handed the phone back to Hizashi, eyes narrowing slightly.

Hizashi studied him. “You think something’s wrong?”

“I think,” Aizawa said slowly, “that something has been wrong for a while.”

Silence settled between them, heavy and uneasy.

Hizashi leaned back in his chair, rubbing at the back of his neck. “What’s your move?”

“For now? Nothing official,” Aizawa muttered. His gaze drifted back to Midoriya’s sleeping form. “I’ll talk to Nedzu.”

Hizashi nodded. “You’re not gonna let this go, huh?”

“No,” Aizawa said, voice quiet but firm. “Not until I know that kid’s going home to someone who’s actually there.”

The monitor beeped steadily in the stillness that followed, the sound small but grounding.

Hizashi glanced at his husband  -  the shadows under Aizawa’s eyes, the stubborn line of his mouth  -  and sighed. “You know, Sho, for a guy who claims he hates responsibility, you’re a damn good father figure.”

Aizawa shot him a withering look. “Don’t start.”

Hizashi smirked. “Too late.”

But the humor faded quickly, and both men’s gazes returned to the quiet rise and fall of Midoriya’s chest  -  the smallest proof that, for now at least, the kid was still safe.

Notes:

The whole hospital part is what I thought of first when I went to write this fic, I went back to write everything else because I figured there had to be some backstory before getting to this part.

See you next time :)

edit: thank you for the comment that pointed out that I started this chapter the same as I ended the last chapter. I write this in one big Google doc and change the font color of what I post. I realized going back to read chapter 19 that I not only didn't change the font color, but I edited some of my own writing since posting chapter 19 because I keep going back and forth between using Mic (which is how I started addressing Present Mic when I wrote this fic) and Hizashi.

Chapter 21: truth hurts (but so does lying)

Summary:

Midoriya wakes up to Aizawa and Present Mic in his hospital room. They all have a conversation about the events of the USJ and Midoriya's mom. After Midoriya goes back to sleep, Mic and Aizawa talk about meeting with Nedzu the next day.

Notes:

Officially over 20,000 words! Thank you for reading! :)

The next afternoon, Midoriya woke to the fading light of early evening slanting through the blinds. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something sweet -  maybe whatever Recovery Girl kept in her bag.

His throat was dry, and his chest ached when he tried to sit up - or move at all really. For a moment, everything was blurry -  the ceiling, the steady rhythm of the monitor, the faint hum of a voice somewhere nearby.

Then things came into focus.

Aizawa was sitting in the corner, his left arm in a sling and both legs fully healed, eyes trained somewhere past the foot of Midoriya’s bed. Present Mic leaned against the windowsill, scrolling on his phone.

When Midoriya stirred, both men looked up.

“Hey, lil’ listener,” Present Mic said softly. “Welcome back.”

Midoriya blinked, glancing uncertainly at the two occupants of the room before clearing his throat and speaking. “H-how long…?”

“Three days,” Aizawa said. His voice was quiet but steady. “You’ve been asleep most of that time. You lost a lot of blood.”

Midoriya swallowed hard. “Oh. Um… sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for almost dying,” Present Mic said, trying for a light tone that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Aizawa glanced at him, then turned back to Midoriya. “How do you feel?”

“Sore. But okay.” He fidgeted with the blanket, eyes darting around the room. “Um… did- did you call my mom?” The question came out rushed, like he’d been waiting to ask it since waking. He then looked down at the blanket in his hands as if it held the answer to the question he posed.

Aizawa and Present Mic exchanged a quick look.

“We did,” Aizawa said. “We called her number twice the day of the attack, and again yesterday.”

Midoriya’s hands stilled. “Oh. Um, she - she probably just hasn’t checked her phone. She gets busy sometimes. At work.”

Aizawa’s expression didn’t change, but his silence stretched a beat too long. “We left messages,” he said. “She hasn’t called back.”

“She - ” Midoriya’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and forced a shaky laugh that didn’t sound right. “She’s just… probably really worried, you know? Maybe she’s scared to talk right now. I’m sure she’ll - she’ll come by soon.”

Present Mic shifted uncomfortably. “Kid - ”

Midoriya glanced quickly between the two adults. “I - I think she’s just really busy! That’s all. She’s been picking up extra shifts, um, because things have been a little tight at home and - and she doesn’t always hear her phone when she’s cooking or cleaning or -”

He stopped himself abruptly, eyes going wide, as if he’d said too much.  Midoriya tugged his blanket up to his chin. “S-she’ll call. I promise.”

Midoriya spotted his teachers sharing a look. They don’t believe me.

“We, um, we can talk about my mom later. I don’t want you guys worrying.” Midoriya took a breath before glancing at Aizawa, who was still sitting in the corner. “Are you okay Aizawa- Sensei?”

Aizawa stood up and walked over to sit on the unoccupied hospital bed across from Midoriya. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you that.”Aizawa responded quietly. 

Midoriya looked down at his hands. “When I got down to the plaza, you had already taken down most of the villains so we - Shinsou, A-Tsuyu, and I - were making plans to go back toward the entrance of the USJ.” His fingers twisted in the blanket, the sensation was comforting. “But then that monster was there and, I - I  guess it’s like what All Might said, I just moved without thinking.”

Aizawa’s brow twitched, something between irritation and reluctant pride. “You put yourself between that thing and your classmates.”

Midoriya shook his head quickly. “No! I mean - yes, but I had to. Shinsou’s arm was broken a- and his quirk wouldn’t work on that monster and Aizawa-sensei you - you were -” He stumbled over the words, breath catching. “You were already down, and it looked like he was going to -”

He swallowed, hard. He could feel tears starting to sting his eyes, but he didn’t want to give them any more reason to worry about him. He pushed them back, then he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

Present Mic stepped closer, voice softer than usual. “You did everything you could, kid. More than most grown heroes would’ve managed in those circumstances.”

Midoriya’s eyes flicked between them, overwhelmed. “I just didn’t want anyone to die…”

Aizawa softened, almost imperceptibly. “You kept your classmates alive. You kept me alive.” He let a beat pass. “And that’s exactly why we need to make sure you have someone keeping you safe.”

Midoriya stiffened. There it was - the shift. The circle closing back to the subject he desperately wanted to avoid.

Before either man could press further, Midoriya rushed out, “I’m fine. Really. I’m - I’m used to dealing with things on my own.”

The last sentence slipped out before he could swallow it back.

Midoriya blinked rapidly, panic rising in his chest. “I-I mean, not in a bad way! Just - my mom’s busy a lot, and I don’t want to bother her, and I don’t want to bother you either, you’ve already done so much, and I don't want to be a burden and - ”

“Midoriya.” Aizawa’s voice cut through the spiral. 

Aizawa leaned forward slightly. “We’re not going anywhere. And you’re not a burden.”

He fell quiet, breathing still too fast.

Present Mic nodded, expression uncharacteristically serious. “Not to us. And not to your mom either - if she’s… not around, that’s on her, not on you.”

Midoriya curled into himself on the bed.  “She is around. She is. She just… she tries. She really tries.” His voice wobbled on the last part of the statement. The tears he had been fighting all night finally started to fall.

***

Aizawa sat beside Midoriya’s bed, elbows on his knees, the low hum of the hospital machines the only sound left in the room. The kid had cried himself to sleep  -  exhaustion and emotion finally catching up to him. His face was blotchy, tear tracks still drying against his cheeks, lashes clumped together. Even in sleep, he looked tense, one hand fisted in the blanket like he was afraid it might be taken away.

Aizawa let out a slow breath and rubbed his temples.

Midoriya was holding something back. That much was obvious. The way he talked about his mom raised several red flags. Not to mention that it has been three days without so much as a text from said mom asking if her son was even still alive.

Aizawa leaned his elbows on his knees. His vision blurred not only from emotion, but also from the fatigue that still clung to him. Some memories still slipped out of reach. But others were painfully clear: Midoriya leaping at the monster, Midoriya’s screams, and the sickening crack that went with them.

He could’ve been crushed. If All Might had been a second later - 

Aizawa shut his eyes, jaw tight.

“Hey.”

The word broke gently through the fog. Hizashi stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He had two paper cups of coffee in one hand - one of them probably the overly sweet, barely-coffee blend he always brought to Aizawa when he sensed he really needed it.

Hizashi handed it over without comment.

Aizawa accepted it and stared down at the steam.

“How’s the kid?” Hizashi asked quietly, glancing at Midoriya’s curled form.

“Sleeping,” Aizawa murmured. “He was exhausted. And overwhelmed.”

Hizashi leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Pretty reasonable with everything that has happened” He paused and scanned Aizawa’s face before continuing. “You’re blaming yourself.”

“I’m responsible for him.” Aizawa’s voice was low. Frayed. “For all of them. They’re under my care.” Aizawa paused before continuing. “Midoriya also confirmed something I was worried about the first time I woke up - other students were injured. Are there any injuries besides Shinso and Midoriya?” 

Hizashi’s posture softened, shoulders sloping. “Nothing serious. A few cracked ribs, bruises, concussions. Iida sprained his ankle when he went for help, but he’s already back on campus. Sero dislocated his shoulder. Kaminari overused his quirk, but he’s returned back to his baseline.”

Aizawa exhaled slowly. Relief, but tempered. “Good. That’s… good.”

“They’re shaken up, but they’ll bounce back. Kids are resilient.” Then Hizashi’s tone dipped. “Not always in the ways they should be.”

Aizawa’s gaze drifted back to Midoriya. The words spilled out before he had a chance to fully shape them:

“I’m worried about Midoriya - he acts like someone who never expects adults to show up in time. He just… handles everything alone.”

Hizashi’s expression softened. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Aizawa rubbed his good hand over his face, exhaustion dragging at him. “He shouldn’t have to. No kid should.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the steady beeping from Midoriya’s monitor.

Then Hizashi said, gently but firmly, “We need to tell Nedzu.”

Aizawa lowered his hand. “…About his mother.”

“Yeah.” Hizashi crossed his arms. “It’s been three days, Shouta. Three days. No callback. No text. No hospital visit. Nothing.”

Aizawa’s throat tightened. “Midoriya keeps trying to cover for her. Even half-conscious.”

“And that,” Hizashi said, voice soft and troubled, “tells us everything we need to know.”

Notes:

I am getting into the busiest part of the school year so I will continue to do my best to keep posting on Saturdays, but school has to come first :)

Chapter 22: next steps

Summary:

Aizawa and Mic meet with Nedzu about Midoriya. Nedzu has a multi step plan (because of course he does) to ensure the safety of Izuku - the first of which is a welfare check at the Midoriya household with Mic, Aizawa, and Hound Dog.

Nedzu’s office was quiet when Aizawa and Hizashi stepped inside, though the principal’s posture suggested he’d been expecting them for some time. He sat perched on his chair with his paws folded neatly over a thick stack of documents. Legal documents, by the look of them. 

“Good afternoon, Aizawa, Yamada,” Nedzu greeted, teacup already steaming beside him. “Please, sit.”

Aizawa didn’t waste any time. The moment they sat, he leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “We need to talk about Midoriya.”

Nedzu’s whiskers twitched. “I assumed as much.”

Hizashi exhaled. “We spoke with him yesterday after he woke up. About his mom.” His voice softened at the memory. “He deflected, over and over. Every answer was a dodge. ‘She’s busy,’ ‘she’s scared,’ ‘she’ll call later.’ Like he was reciting something he’s practiced.”

Aizawa nodded. “And it wasn’t just that. He looked… panicked. Like even talking about her would get him in trouble.” He stared down at the stack of materials in front of Nedzu. “There’s something going on at home. He’s hiding it. Either because he’s scared… or because he thinks he has to handle it alone.”

Nedzu hummed thoughtfully, then reached into his stack and pulled a color-tabbed binder free. “I took the liberty of preparing some materials. Based on the information you’ve provided these past few days, my own observations of Midoriya, and - ” he tapped the side of his head with a small, sharp smile “- a great deal of foresight.”

Hizashi blinked. “You already mapped everything out?”

“Oh yes,” Nedzu chirped. “Japan’s juvenile welfare laws, mandatory reporting requirements, emergency guardianship procedures, the protocols for home visits and school-initiated concerns, and of course… the potential responses depending on what we find.” He flipped the binder open. “All neatly organized.”

Aizawa and Hizashi stared at the color-coded system like it was both a miracle and a warning.

Aizawa cleared his throat. “We need to know the next steps. We’ve tried calling his mother multiple times over the past three days. No response. And Midoriya’s behavior is… it’s not that of a kid who feels safe.”

Hizashi nodded more somberly than usual. “He acts like someone used to adults dropping the ball. Or dropping him.”

Nedzu’s eyes sharpened, just slightly. “I agree.”

He slid a form toward them. “Step one: a welfare check. A formal home visit conducted by the school, documented and reported to the Child Welfare Commission, as required by law. Your observations will be critical.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightened. “We can do that.”

“Step two,” Nedzu continued, “if the visit reveals concerns - and based on your descriptions, I suspect it will - we proceed to file a Child Endangerment Inquiry. This allows the school to request temporary guardianship arrangements if necessary.”

“The school? ” Hizashi questioned, “Who would he live with? There are no dorms here.”

“If it becomes necessary, you two are the strongest candidates” Nedzu smiled gently. “You are the closest adults that he has and he trusts you already.”

Aizawa’s chest tightened. He kept his voice level. “We’re prepared. If it comes to that.”

Hizashi rested a hand on his shoulder, steady and warm.

Nedzu’s smile sharpened at the edges with something like fierce protectiveness. “You two care for him,” he said simply. “That matters.”

He folded his paws. “For now, document everything. Every inconsistency, every concern, every unanswered call. We’ll proceed according to legal protocol.” His voice softened, but there was steel beneath it. “And we will not let that child fall through the cracks.”

Hizashi exhaled, relief and anxiety mixing in equal measure. “Thank you, Nedzu.”

Aizawa nodded. “We’ll handle the home visit.”

Nedzu closed his binder with a soft snap. “Excellent. Then let’s get to work.”

***

The hallway outside Apartment 4C smelled faintly of old carpet and stale air. The home visit was scheduled for early morning so there were many people moving throughout the apartments, starting their day.  Aizawa, Mic, and Hound Dog stood shoulder to shoulder, each wearing a different shade of concern. Inui’s tail twitched with agitation, picking up traces of stress behind the door.

“She’s home,” Hound Dog murmured, nose lifting. “But… her scent is off. Sedatives. Recent.”

Aizawa’s expression darkened. “Noted.”

The door opened only after Aizawa knocked for the third time.

Inko Midoriya stood in the frame, hair unbrushed, eyes unfocused. She blinked slowly at them as if trying to place faces that should have been familiar.

“A… Aizawa-sensei?” she mumbled, rubbing at her temple. “And… the loud one.” She gave a confused glance to Hound Dog who was busy starting back at her appraisingly. 

Mic gave a small, cautious smile. “Present”, Mic joked before shifting back into explaining why they were here, “ Good afternoon, Midoriya -san. We have brought Hound Dog, the school guidance counselor, with us to do a welfare check. Would it be alright if we entered your apartment to have a look around and talk with you?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she shuffled backward, leaving the door wide enough for them to enter if they chose. Aizawa hesitated before stepping inside.

The living room told a story before she did. Stacks of unopened mail. A thin layer of dust across most surfaces. Dishes in the sink that had clearly been there for more than a day or two. A laundry basket overflowing in the corner.

Aizawa glanced around discreetly and noticed Midoriya’s door slightly ajar. He looked inside and saw a room that showed a stark contrast to the disorganization of the living room and kitchen. His bed was made, journals lined up neatly on the bookcase, and it didn’t even look like a speck of dust had ever graced the head of one of his numerous All Might figures.

Aizawa caught the eyes of Mic and Hound Dog before motioning them to look in the room. Then he turned to Inko Midoriya. “Midoriya-san, when was the last time you saw Izuku?”

Inko blinked again, slow and slightly delayed. “…Who?”

Mic turned away from the door, looking caught between an expression of rage and surprise, but Aizawa kept his voice even. “Your son.”

“Oh,” she said, waving a hand vaguely. “He’s probably… somewhere. You know how he is.” She let out a breathy, dismissive laugh. “Always running around. Trying to keep up with everyone else even though he’s… mm.” Her eyelids drooped. “Even though he’s quirkless.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightened. “He isn’t quirkless.”

Inko stared at him, brow furrowing as though the sentence made no sense. “He… he was.” She shook her head “He is. He’s always been.” Her voice stayed airy, but her grip tightened on the doorframe until her knuckles went white. “He tries so hard. But he’s… he’s useless for hero work. I told him that. I told him so he wouldn’t get hurt. He never listens.”

Mic inhaled sharply, a sound close to outrage before he bit it back. Aizawa reached out and placed a hand on Mic’s arm without looking, a silent not now.

“Midoriya-san,” Aizawa began carefully, “when’s the last time you spoke with Izuku? Or had a full conversation with him?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” She waved her hand again, unfocused. “Yesterday? Maybe? I sleep late these days. The medicine, you know.” She pointed vaguely toward an open bottle on the kitchen counter -  far from childproof, several pills spilled out beside it as if knocked over before being set upright. 

Aizawa’s stomach twisted. He got up, walking towards the kitchen. I should have stepped in sooner. Aizawa braced his arms on the counter and took a deep breath. He could vaguely hear Hound Dog asking about work-life balance. Before he could rejoin the conversation, a piece of paper caught his eye. It was a note. One that had been crumpled and smoothed out again before being forgotten in the kitchen.

 

Izuku,

 

I will not be home for a while. I picked up some extra shifts to take care of us and to be ready for your UA injuries. Our insurance still doesn’t cover quirkless injuries. I know you want to be a hero, but I don’t think that is the best choice for you. I made an appointment with a counselor at the hospital for you to help you decide on a safer option. I want what is best for you as your mother. I love you.

 

Mom

He remembered the conversation he had with Inko Midoriya on the phone. Her carefully chosen words. Her quick insistence that she would be helping him with his routine and encouraging safer choices. Was this counselor she mentioned in the note what she was thinking of? Does she think taking him out of UA is really the best option? Does she even know Izuku at all?

Aizawa pockets the note to share later and moves back into the living room. He exchanged a glance with Mic, and this time Mic didn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“Midoriya-san,” Aizawa said gently but firmly, “Izuku has been in the hospital for several days. We’ve been trying to reach you.”

She blinked once. Then twice.

Finally, she murmured, “Oh… he’ll be fine. He always is. He… he causes trouble, but he’s strong. He handles himself.” She swayed again, clinging to the doorframe. “He doesn’t need me hovering. He’s used to managing on his own.”

Aizawa felt the words like a gut-punch. Izuku had said very similar words.

Mic swallowed hard. “He does need someone. He’s a kid.”

Inko’s eyes unfocused again, drifting off somewhere far away. “He’s fine,” she whispered. “He doesn’t need me. He never did.”

The apartment seemed to grow quieter around them.

Aizawa breathed in slowly, steadying himself before he spoke again. “Thank you for letting us visit, Midoriya-san. Rest for now. We’ll be in touch.”

She nodded without really seeing them, drifting back toward the dim-lit hallway like a sleepwalker.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Mic exhaled shakily. “Shouta…”

“I know,” Aizawa said, voice tight. “Tomorrow, we talk to Nedzu again.”

“About custody?”

“About everything.”

They started down the hallway in heavy silence -  both knowing the next steps were no longer optional.

Notes:

Nedzu's multi step plan was developed from a mix of Japan's child protection laws and what I know happens in America. I chose to use Hound Dog as the guidance counselor here because I've seen other fics where he was used plus it works well :)

Chapter 23: interlude of spiraling thoughts

Summary:

Midoriya wakes up early the next morning alone in the hospital room. His teachers are out on the home visit, but Midoriya doesn't know this and thinks about everything that could happen as a result of their previous conversation.

Midoriya awoke the next morning to light streaming into his eyes. He looked around and, for a brief moment, couldn’t remember where he was. Then the smell of the antiseptic hit him and he remembered the events from yesterday. He was in the hospital. The only sound present in the too white room was the beeping of the heart rate monitor.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Memory rushed in all at once - USJ, Aizawa on the ground, the Nomu, pain so sharp it stole his breath, Aizawa’s voice shouting his name- 

He pushed himself up on his elbows, chest tightening.

The chair beside his bed was empty.

Aizawa wasn’t there. Neither was Present Mic.

Panic bloomed fast and hot in his chest. 

Beep.Beep.

Beep.Beep

Did they leave? Were they meeting Nedzu right now? What did they know about his mom? Would they come back?

The questions spiraled before he could stop them.

Had they decided she wasn’t fit? Had they called the police? Would she be arrested because of the pills, the apartment, because she wasn’t… there enough? Was this his fault for saying too much -  or not enough?

They’re heroes. They’ll do what’s right. What if what’s right isn’t me staying with my mom?

His breathing sped up, shallow and uneven. The monitor reacted instantly.

Beepbeepbeepbeep-

Midoriya pressed a hand to his chest, trying to force himself to calm down the way he always did. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t panic. Panicking doesn’t help.

But his thoughts wouldn’t slow.

What if they don’t want me anymore either? What if they thought he was better off somewhere else? Would he be kicked out of UA? What if they thought he couldn’t help other people because he couldn't help his mom or himself?

The monitor’s alarm chirped sharply.

The door slid open a second later.

“Whoa -  hey, hey, easy,” a nurse said gently as she hurried in, already checking the screen. “Okay, sweetheart, you’re awake. Let’s slow that heart rate down, yeah?”

“I—I’m sorry,” Izuku blurted, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to - I’m fine, I just - ”

She moved to his side, warm hands grounding as she adjusted the IV and pressed a button to silence the alarm. “You don’t need to apologize. Your heart just thinks something scary is happening.”

Midoriya swallowed hard. “Are -  are my teachers okay?”

“They’re fine,” the nurse said quickly. “They were here late last night. Both of them practically had to be forced to go home.”

That didn’t help as much as he hoped it would.

“They’re not -” His voice dropped. “They’re not mad at my mom, are they?”

The nurse paused, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know the details, honey. I just know they care about you. A lot.”

Izuku nodded, staring down at the blanket. His hands were trembling now that he noticed.

“My name is Akari Barusaruba and my Quirk is called Calm”, she started softly, “This allows me to slow your heart rate. You may feel a little tired afterwards, but since you go to UA, you know Recovery Girl and should be familiar with that sensation. Can I hold your hand?”

Izuku hesitated for half a second, then nodded.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Akari smiled gently and took his hand, her grip warm and steady. “Alright. Just focus on me, okay? You’re safe right now.”

He swallowed and nodded again.

“Good,” she said. “I’m going to activate my quirk. It doesn’t erase fear - it just gives your body a chance to catch up to reality.”

There was no flash, no dramatic sensation. Just a gradual easing, like someone slowly turning down the volume on a radio that had been blaring too loud. The tight band around his chest loosened. His breaths deepened without him forcing them to.

The monitor followed suit.

Beep.
…Beep.
……Beep.

“There we go,” Akari murmured. “That’s better.”

Midoriya hadn’t realized how hard he’d been gripping her hand until his fingers relaxed on their own. His shoulders sank into the mattress, exhaustion seeping in now that the panic had burned itself out.

Midoriya hesitated, then asked the question that had been clawing at him since the moment he woke up.

“Am I… going to be taken away?”

Akari’s expression softened, something sad flickering behind her eyes. She reached up and brushed a curl of green hair out of his face.

“No one’s made any decisions like that yet,” she said honestly. “And if anyone tries to make a decision about you, you’ll be part of the conversation. I promise.”

Midoriya nodded again, though his chest still felt tight.

Akari smiled gently. “I’ll let your teachers know you’re awake, okay?”

Midoriya stared at the ceiling, eyelids heavy. “They’re… really coming back, right?”

“Yes,” Akari said without hesitation. “They didn’t leave because they wanted to. They left because they were ordered to rest.”

That mattered more than she probably knew.

“And Izuku?” she added quietly.

He turned his head toward her.

“No one here is mad at you. And no one is making decisions about your life without you being part of them. You’re not in trouble. You’re not being punished.”

His throat tightened. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

As she left, the room settled again into soft quiet.

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.

Izuku let his eyes close, the fear still there - quieter now, distant - but no longer overwhelming.

They care, he thought, clinging to that single, fragile truth as sleep pulled him under.

Notes:

The name OC nurse Akari Barasaruba came about because I was looking up ways to slow down a rapid heart rate and found a breathing exercise called the Valsuva maneuver that stimulates the Vagus nerve. This translates to Barasaruba-ho in Japanese.

I will not be able to post next Saturday because this is the last week of school so all of my spare time is going into grading plus there are a bunch of events at my school this upcoming week for some reason. Long story short, to protect my own sanity and to write something that makes sense, I will probably post sometime the week after next.

Thank you for following along :)