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Aizawa Shouta had noticed it long ago. With the way his quirk worked and later his job as an underground hero, he was by nature an observer of people and their quirks. There were strange things that accompanied every quirk user, no matter what their quirk was or did. Naturally, it was more noticeable with heteromorphic types and those with mutations, but even others.
He remembered it all clearly, the first time he met Hizashi, the faint humming noise, the crackle of static. The man was physically unable to keep quiet, his quirk running through him like the channels of a radio. At first it would nearly give Shouta headaches, driving him insane. But Hizashi’s near constant presence had changed that, and now Shouta found comfort in it, much to his melodramatic disdain. The quiet sound that was a constant quickly became something Shouta needed if he intended to relax. Dead silence meant he was working, quiet humming meant he was home.
The same occurred with Nemuri, that unnaturally sharp smell that accompanied her everywhere, concealed just barely by her everyday perfume. The way his urge to take a nap almost doubled when she came over to visit.
All of his coworkers, teachers and heroes alike, had some strange thing that set them apart- Vlad King’s too-sharp teeth, Ryuku’s slitted eyes that shone in the dark, the faint scent of antiseptic that follows Recovery Girl regardless of the time of day. The unsettling edge that follows Ms Joke, luring him into a strange sense of ease even as his mind tells him that it’s false. The way Thirteen seemed just a little too cold and a little too far away even when they were standing right next to you.
That wasn’t even counting the way Ectoplasm’s smile was just a little too wide and open, the way Cementoss’s skin is rough to the touch like sandpaper. The man had caught him once, when he had been thrown in the middle of a fight and Shouta had gotten road rash. It was a strange experience for both of them with his colleague feeling like he had to apologize and Shouta trying to simultaneously dodge the unnecessary and uncomfortable apology while trying to hunt down some gauze from his pockets.
Shouta was aware that he was much the same. He had been told over and over as a kid that his tendency to stare was unsettling, that quote-unquote normal people blink more often. He had been likened to a doll by his classmates, not for any sort of delicate appearance, but simply for the way he watched. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for people to tell Shouta that he zoned out a lot if they didn’t know him.
Normal wasn’t a thing in this day and age. Shouta simply liked observing. One, because people were interesting, as much as he didn’t like to interact with them. And two, because in his line of work and with his quirk, watching meant safety.
So he watched.
But today Shouta was watching his hell class train. He was turned around when it happened, helping Kirishima with some close quarters combat moves. The air was filled with the usual buzzing of hero student quirks, the kind of energy that had your hair standing on end and at least some of your attention constantly aware of the sheer power surrounding you. Shouta had long since learned how to block it out, the pressure that came with teaching students who barely knew how to control their quirks. That kind of power often came with an oppressive force until the students learned how to reign it in.
He had been correcting Kirishima’s stance, kicking lightly at his ankles to get him to shuffle his feet into the right places when he heard a yelp.
He spun around, following Kirishima’s glance to the right direction and quickly locating the source of the sound. It’s not hard, considering right in his line of sight where the sound came from is the Problem Child.
Midoriya Izuku is a mystery Shouta hasn’t solved. No child with a quirk as powerful as that behaves the way he does, shy and anxious and twitchy as though he has spent a lifetime defending himself from perils that Shouta can’t seem to guess at. As Midoriya straightens up from where he crouched, shaking his legs out as he laughs nervously, glancing between Asui and Uraraka, Shouta can’t help but think.
His Problem Child is one of the most unnerving of them all. As he makes his way over, his other students withdraw to give them space. This means that they’re okay, and also means that he is correct in his assumption that the source of the disruption is indeed Midoriya.
“Problem Child,” he says, gentling his tone as he sees Midoriya flinch back a little at his approach. “Are you okay?”
And just like that, the hesitance is gone. Replacing it is an iron look that Shouta is used to from his fellow underground heroes, not his 15 year old students. “Things are changing.” He said slowly. “And I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.”
Shouta had no idea what to do with that strangely ominous statement, but given the strange appearance of the eldritch tendrils of black that randomly manifested during what was supposed to be a simple joint training practice with class 1B he wasn’t about to write it off. As well, if there was a child with a penchant for cryptic messages in his class, it was Tokoyami, not Midoriya.
“Anything I should be watching for?” Aizawa grunted.
Midoriya’s expression brightened. “I’ll yell if I need you to cancel my quirk.”
Aizawa held back his sigh. He’d much rather Midoriya not put himself in a situation to need to have his quirk cancelled, but he had worked hard to get the boy to trust him this much, so he just nodded and went back to teaching. Better to just be ready for damage control than berate the boy for not learning better quirk control as a child. He kept a careful eye on the boy throughout the rest of the class, and sure enough, it happened.
Smoke.
Shouta had moved over to Asui and was helping her, Uraraka, Shinsou, and Sero work on their air maneuvering when a loud explosion went off and smoke drifted into the air. Shouta was prepared to write it off, given how close it was to Bakugou’s explosions, but there was too much smoke and it went alongside a feeling that Shouta didn’t experience often outside of some of the truly terrible cases he’d been pulled onto during his time as an underground hero.
And Shouta wasn’t known for ignoring his instincts.
He instantly began counting his students, unwilling to move closer to the strange smoke. Villains had gotten into Yuuei before and Shouta was not ready to let them at his children again.
Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Sato were moving towards him already, Aoyama and Tokoyami close behind them. Ashido, Kaminari, Koda were ollowing suit, Iida and Shoji moving as well, Hagakure pulling Ojiro along with her. Todoroki taking slow steps backwards. Kirishima was yelling at Bakugou, who was standing on the edge of the wall of smoke and was reaching slowly forwards.
“Bakugou, step back!” Shouta launched himself towards the boy but was half a step too late. Bakugou was already inside the wall of smoke. “Iida, Yaoyorozu, get everyone out of here, now!”
Shouta ran towards the smoke after his student, and almost stumbled when he realized. Students. Midoriya wasn’t among the students he had counted.
A small object flew at him from the corner of his eye as he passed by Yaoyorozu and he nodded his thanks as he caught the gas mask she tossed to him as he passed by. A flash of pride in his student overcame the worry for a brief moment before he plunged into the strange purpley grey fog. Immediately his vision was obscured. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end like the smoke was charged with electricity, but he couldn’t leave. He had to find his students.
A faint popping sound came from his left, instantly recognizable. Bakugou’s habit of ridding himself of anxiety and excess sweat was a lifesaver. He shot his capture weapon out until he felt it connect, and a tug from the other end alerted him to walk farther in instead of pulling like he initially intended.
He followed it along until he reached Bakugou, standing relaxed and unharmed, gauntlets sitting on the ground and arms crossed over his chest. Shouta crept forward, hand sliding up to get a new grip on his capture weapon, just in case. But Bakugou just turned to face him, raising a single unimpressed eyebrow at the sight of the gasmask. All he did though was raise a hand, pointing vaguely skywards.
“Deku’s figured it out,” he said simply. “You should talk to him. The nerd’s been ready to talk for weeks but keeps putting it off. I can’t beat it through his thick skull that things don’t make sense anymore.”
Shouta could scream with all of the absurdly vague comments his students were giving him. It wasn’t even Tokoyami today. Nor was it Kaminari saying nonsensical English phrases that he picked up from Hizashi but had no idea what they mean. Shouta would take another mixed metaphor any day over this.
Instead of screaming though, Shouta directed his gaze along Bakugou’s arm, following along until he spotted the source of his unease and the electric crackle of the air around them.
One of these days, Shouta was going to retire, and Nedzu would have to make Kan deal with all the first years, and Kan would understand what true pain is.
“Midoriya,” Shouta called, forcing his voice to remain even. “Can you come down?” He frowned. “Please?”
His problem child was floating. Like actually floating. About 10 feet in the air, green electricity crackling around him and eyes glowing a toxic neon colour, the same as the lightning that coats him when he uses his quirk.
“Bakugou, go back to the rest of the class,” Shouta said.
“Nah.”
Shouta couldn’t help it. He tore his gaze away from Midoriya to shoot his student an incredulous glare.
Bakugou wasn’t even looking at him. He was still standing there, not a care in the world.
Shouta doesn’t have time to work through all the shit. He needs a strong drink.
Using the part of capture weapon still wrapped around Bakugou he tugged the boy behind him. For what it’s worth, Bakugou stepped away easily, with only a grumble and an eye roll.
Small mercies, Shouta supposed.
“Midoriya,” he called again. “Can you hear me?”
There was no response, but Shouta could see him trembling, his whole body shaking even as he seemed to float slightly higher.
“Midoriya, I’m going to cancel your quirk. Can you give me a sign that you can hear me?”
A hand landed on his shoulder. He nodded, refusing to pull his eyes from Midoriya.
“I’ll calm him down,” Bakugou said.
“You?” Shouta said, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. Bakugou dug a hard finger into his back.
“Me, asshole. Yeah, we fight, but I’ve still known him the longest. Now take him down before his quirk does it for you.”
Sure enough, Midoriya’s trembling has increased to full shaking.
Shouta blew out a breath. “Okay. But you don’t move until I do, okay?”
He received another jab in response, so he took that as a yes and activated his quirk.
He was immediately running forwards to catch Midoriya as the light vanished and the boy dropped like a rock. He was making a high keening noise, even as Shouta pulled him in, not releasing his quirk just in case.
Bakugou was instantly by his side, just a step behind, his voice softer than Shouta had ever heard it.
“Hey, nerd, open your eyes.” Bakugou said, squeezing Midoriya’s arm. No movement. “Zuku, I need you to look at me. Open your eyes.”
Midoriya took a shuddering breath, scrunching his nose. Bakugou flicked him lightly on the forehead.
“Hey. Listen to me. It’s there. I promise it’s there.”
Now Shouta was confused. What was there? Why was that the reassurance Bakugou was going with?
Shouta had too many questions and not nearly enough time to figure them all out.
Midoriya slowly opened his eyes, looking disoriented and hazy. “Kacchan?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse.
“Tell the caterpillar you’re okay so he’ll give you your quirk back,” Bakugou said, wasting no time on any more reassurances. Which was reassuring for Shouta because the appearance of the insult (rude, first off) was much better than the strange kindness Bakugou so very rarely showed.
Midoriya reached out, patting the explosive boy’s hand. Bakugou allowed it for a second before pulling back. “I’m going to go tell the nerd squad he’s okay. You want everyone to get changed?”
Shouta blinked at the uncharacteristic display, stunned as his quirk dropped.
Bakugou scowled at him. “I’m talking to you, old man.”
Ah. So the world hadn’t flipped on its axis.
“Language,” Shouta said mildly instead. “Yes, tell Yaoyorozu and Iida to make sure everyone gets to the classroom. Work period until I return.”
Bakugou nodded, picked up his gauntlets, and shuffled away through the smoke.
Shouta glanced down at Midoriya to find him flexing his hand, looking at it in wonder.
“Midoriya,” he chided, trying to be gentle. “What did you say about calling if you needed it?”
Midoriya winced. “Sorry Aizawa-sensei. I really was going to.”
Aizawa didn’t bother responding. He stood, pulling Midoriya up with him and setting him on his feet. “Do you need to go to Recovery Girl?”
Midoriya shook his head.
“ Should you go to Recovery Girl?”
Midoriya hesitated. “Nothing’s broken,” he said after a pause, and Shouta rolled his eyes.
“But?” He prompted.
“I actually think I’m okay,” Midoriya frowned. “Tired, and a bit sore, but nothing hurts.”
It was a lucky day. Shouta nodded, willing to give his student his trust. Midoriya had come a long way from the start of the year. “Alright. But tell me immediately if anything changes.” He waited for Midoriya’s confirmation before he decided to take a risk and prod for more information. “I have two questions.”
“Only two?” Midoriya asked sarcastically, before he seemed to realize who he was talking to and flushed an embarrassed red.
“Two preliminary questions. First off, what the hell was all of that?”
Midoriya stiffened a little, limbs locking. “Quirk,” he offered weakly.
“Second question.” Shouta said, following his suspicions and not bothering to ask Midoriya to elaborate too much on that when he could try a different angle. “Does this part of your quirk have something to do with Bakugou telling me a few minutes ago to ask you about what things don’t make sense anymore and what you’ve figured out? What are you ready to talk about?”
Midoriya’s face darkened. “I’m going to Detroit Smash his ass.”
Shouta would let that slide, because honestly, he didn’t think the sunshine child was capable of cursing. “I’m going to take that as a yes. I’m going to get Present Mic to cover class as they’re all studying, and we’re going to have a talk, yes?”
Midoriya grumbled and kicked at the ground, a couple rocks clattering away. Shouta was struck by just how young his students were.
“Alright,” Midoriya said. “I just need to talk to All Might first.”
Shouta couldn’t hold back his sigh, but he gestured for Midoriya to leave to find the retired hero. Gods above, it was always Yagi in the middle of things. But, Shouta thought, this was looking like he might finally figure out what on earth was going on between Midoriya and Yagi. For a while there, he was almost convinced that Todoroki was right and Yagi might actually be Midoriya’s father.
Shouta had just barely sat down in one of the offices the staff had access to to use for interviews and meetings when Midoriya knocked gently on the door. He waved him in, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He had shuffled the chairs so that he wasn’t behind the desk, but was sitting across from the boy. As much as he wanted to reassure him that he wasn’t in trouble, it was a serious conversation it seemed and Shouta didn’t want to run the risk of missing important body language because he was sitting beside the anxious boy.
Because by god, it seemed almost as though the kid was about to vibrate himself through a chair with the speed at which his leg was bouncing. Shouta could see flashes of green lightning, and he cleared his throat in warning as the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end with the electricity Midoriya was generating. Between him and Kaminari, it was amazing no one was getting shocked by their desks every few minutes. Midoriya got the message, jumping slightly before realizing that his quirk was active.
“Alright,” Midoriya started hesitantly. “Before I start, I’m just gonna say. Don’t freak out.”
Shouta raised an eyebrow. “You know that makes people think they should be freaking out, right?”
Midoriya winced. “Sorry, It’s just… okay, how about I start at the beginning?”
“Usually where one begins, yes.”
“There were two brothers, at the dawn of quirks-”
“Maybe you shouldn’t start at the beginning.” Shouta interrupted. He could feel a Yagi-induced headache coming on remarkably fast and the man wasn’t even in the room. “Maybe you should start where this starts to be something that I should worry about.”
Midoriya choked out a laugh, some of the tension draining from his body and leaving behind a bone-weary tiredness that transferred the tension straight into Shouta. He could think of no reason for his student to have that kind of look.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Could make a shorter story. I should’ve known that you weren’t one for ghost stories.”
Shouta offered him a small smile. “You’d be surprised about how many ghost stories are actually traded in underground heroics. I’ve heard my fair share, and told them as well.”
Midoriya nodded, as though this wasn’t exactly surprising. “Alright.” He said easily. “How about a ghost story then? Have you heard of the name All For One?”
Had he heard of that name? Of course he has. It’s only the most common ghost story shared amongst his colleagues. Whispers of a man as old as the quirks themselves. Mentions of a god who could give and take power on a whim. Suspicions of a puppeteer pulling the strings of scientific advancement and political happenings.
He had a really bad feeling about this ghost story, and a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t a ghost story at all.
“Looks like you have, so I’ll just assume that everything you’ve heard about him is true,” -wonderful, honestly- “and tell you he’s real. And he’s old, and he’s angry, and he’s killed a lot of people. He can steal quirks. He also had a brother, who was quirkless. He gave his brother a quirk, a stockpiling quirk, in pity. In an effort to get his brother on his side.”
Shouta was already frowning, but he could feel the lines etching themselves onto his face the longer this conversation went on.
“But it turned out the brother wasn’t quirkless. He already had a quirk, one that…” Midoriya hesitated, tugging at the fingers on one of his hands.
“One that?” Shouta prompted.
Midoriya glanced up at him nervously, barely meeting his eyes before his gaze darted away. “This is the part where you promise you won’t freak out.”
“I’ll try my best.” Shouta was liking this less and less.
“The brother’s quirk combined with the stockpiling quirk. But his original quirk was one that could be passed on, handed down from person to person.” Midoriya paused, eyes tracing along the window before looking back over at Shouta.
Shouta couldn’t do anything but blink dumbly at his student as he put all the pieces together. The weird appearances of different aspects of Midoriya’s quirk, the strange relationship between his student and Yagi, the lack of control and broken bones at the start of the-
Shouta froze.
“Mr. Aizawa?”
“Hold that thought Midoriya,” Shouta said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ve got something I need to do.”
“Mr. Aizawa?” Midoriya sounded much more confused now.
“I just need to go find Yagi.”
Midoriya gave him a quizzical look but stood after him, reaching out a little. “I promise I’m telling the truth, I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this-”
“I know, I know,” Shouta cut his student off before Midoryia could grow more panicked. It seemed he misjudged his student in many, many ways, starting with his quirk control and leading him to the amount of panic over Shouta appearing to not believe him. “I’m sorry Midoriya, I should be more clear. I do believe you. In fact, everything makes more sense now than it has all year.”
Midoriya seemed to calm down a little but he was frowning heavily. “Where are you going then?”
“To punch All Might in the face.”
“What?” Midoriya was fully on his feet now. “Mr. Aizawa, you can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Wha- well,” Midoriya sputtered, “cause he’s the Symbol of Peace?”
“He’s a symbol of pain in my ass,” Shouta grumbled, shocking a laugh out of Midoriya, who promptly collapsed on the chair with his head in his hands. “What now, Problem Child?”
“I’ve lost my mind,” Midoriya mumbled, barely audible through his hands. “Or I’ve died or something. Why on earth do you want to punch the Symbol of Peace?”
Well for starters, because All Might’s dumb smile was annoying, and he was too loud, but Shouta figured that wasn’t exactly what Midoriya was looking for. He closed the door, retreating back into the room and beating back his dreams of punching the negligent teacher in the face.
“Midoriya,” he began slowly, drawing the boy’s full attention. “All Might may be a teacher here, but he does not have a teaching license.”
Midoriya’s head tilted to the side like an inquisitive cat. “Okay?”
“Which means that he is not very well equipped to teach students, especially not to the expectations that others may have.”
“What does this have to do with me having a centuries old quirk?”
And, well, that was going to take some getting used to.
“Midoriya, what All Might did was neglectful and dangerous. He gave you a frankly insanely powerful quirk, what, shortly before the school year? And expected you to master it with only one man knowing exactly what was going on?”
Midoriya blanched. “I didn’t tell you when I got it.”
Shouta raised an eyebrow. “You shattered your fingers in my very first lesson. I may not be a genius like Nedzu, but give me some credit.” He leaned back in his chair, giving Midoriya a little bit of space as he continued. “Not only did he give you a quirk with very little instruction or guidance, but one that had unimaginable side effects given that you didn’t seem to know what was going on with the black floaty things. Please tell me you at least knew about All For One going into this?”
Midoriya, unfortunately, remained silent as if his non-answer could protect All Might from the bashing he was about to get the second Shouta sent Midoriya back to the classroom.
“Gods above, that man is thick,” Shouta muttered, thankfully low enough that Midoriya, who was very intently inspecting the armrests of the chair, didn’t hear. “Okay, from here on out, you’re going to train with me present. I don’t care what All Might says. Today was show enough that these extra… stockpiles… may be dangerous, to yourself and others. I can’t let this go on. I should have known from the start, and no, that’s not on you,” he levelled a stern look at Midoriya who looked suddenly guilty and about to interrupt. “All Might should have read me in on the situation given that I am your homeroom teacher, as well as the most able to help you control your quirks should things go wrong. That will be remedied. But I do have one last question today before I let you go back to class, although this discussion is far from over.”
Midoriya winced, but nodded. “That’s fair. For the record, I am sorry I never told you. All Might told me it was my secret to keep, and frankly, I don’t trust adults that much.”
Shouta was overwhelmed by the sudden rush of pride in his student and worry for him. To have a level of distrust for his teacher that kept a secret like this from him? That spoke of levels of problems that Shouta would have to look into, but for now, he would settle with knowing that the jumpy student he struggled to hold any conversation with at the start of the year was opening up to him.
“Who knows?”
Midoriya looked thoughtful for a second. “All Might, obviously. Gran Torino, who I did my internship with.” His expression fell. “Sir Nighteye knew as well.” Shouta nodded. “Then Kacchan.”
That brought a frown to Shouta’s face. “Bakugou knew?”
Midoriya nodded. “We grew up together, he was my friend before I got my quirkless diagnosis.”
And wasn’t that something. Shouta would have to re-evaluate the way he went about everything. Midoriya was medically diagnosed as quirkless for nearly all of his life, and wasn’t that the worst way to put it? As though it were a disease.
Shouta had caught his fair share of people who thought the best thing for them to do was die. He had also missed as many as he had saved. Over half of them were quirkless. He knew the stats, he saw them play out real time as people slipped from his grasp. For this kid, for his kid to have made it this far?
“Midoriya,” he said softly, and something in his voice cracked, just a little. Midoriya looked up, alarmed. “You… you’re a good kid, you know that? You’re worth it, quirk or no.”
Midoriya stared at him in shock before the tell-tale sheen of tears clouded his vision. “What?”
“I know very few people in your life ever stopped to tell you that. You are worth it. Everything. And not because All Might gave you some miracle quirk. You’re worth it because you are smart, and brave, and kind. You are worth it because of who you are, not what tools you have.” Shouta repeated. He promised himself he would spend the next few years repeating it, over and over until the kid believed it and cut the self-sacrificing. And then, if the kid would let him, he would keep saying it until everyone saw the kind of hero Midoriya could be, would be, because Shouta could see it. All Might could see it, if he chose the boy to pass his quirk down to.
A blur of green knocked the air out of his lungs as Midoriya collided with him, tears flowing freely. He was mumbling under his breath into Shouta’s suit, words blurring together with the thickness of choking emotions, and it wasn’t until Shouta hesitantly wrapped his arms around his student, pulling him closer and leaning in that he could make out the words.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over and over again, a litany against all the people who cut him down, all the people who had blocked his path on his journey to where he was now.
Shouta tightened his arms around him.
Yes, he would make sure to help train Midoriya. He would remind him, again and again that he was wanted, that he was cared for, until the boy finally believed it and then some. This was his hell class, after all.
His hell class, with their too sharp smiles and the electrically charged air and the faint smell of gasoline and burnt sugar that lingered in the classroom. His hell class, with the radius near seat 5 that felt just a little bit heavier when walking through it, the temperature fluctuations near seat 15. His hell class and their horns, tails, teeth, and the strange things that allowed their quirks to function, to help them in their goals to help others.
His students, that he would train and look after for as long as they would let him. He would help them .
Just… right after he hunted down a certain Symbol of Peace for a long overdue, good old fashioned knuckle sandwich.