Chapter Text
He needs to run away. Now.
Away from the classroom and his Sensei, away from everyone’s pitiful eyes when he knows fully well they would never extend a hand out for a Deku like him. No, everyone– even Eraserhead and All Might– had sat complacently as Kacchan teased Izuku with sparks next to his ear or slammed the desk just a bit too loud.
It was foolish to think Yuuei was different. As Izuku sprints through halls and stairs with electricity coursing through his veins, he thinks of how All Might told him to be more realistic. He thinks of how he should have heeded the man’s advice considering Izuku’s own history with former classmates and teachers– maybe then, he wouldn’t be left with this hole of betrayal carving its way into his chest.
But he’s learned the hard way, again , that everything revolves around Kacchan and will continue to do so. Izuku does not matter, not when he’s scarred with a quirk that isn’t his and burnt and deafened with sparks and explosions. No, everything is about Kacchan , about how the boy brims with potential, so Deku should help him become the best he can be. Because Deku is just the problem child that screws everyone and everything over while Kacchan is strong and perfect, so he deserves a pass while Deku takes the hit.
Deku is tired of the same routine, of swallowing his pride so Kacchan’s ego can grow more inflated and explosive. He’s so tired that he doesn’t even remember how he ends up on the rooftop. Just like the fateful day–arguably his best and worst day–here he is again, alone because of Kacchan.
He sits, wondering if Aizawa will open the door and ask if he’s done with his tantrum. Maybe Sensei will be too busy asking Kacchan for his side of the story. Maybe Shouto will defend Izuku– the thought of his stoic friend raising his voice for him makes Izuku chuckle. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to know what’s happening beneath him.
Everything will probably be spun against him. He’s so tired of the same script enacted over and over again…
..
.
..
…Shouta has realized that he’s, well.
He’s fucked up. Colossally so.
Because there’s no way in hell it took Problem Child and Todoroki spelling it out for him to realize he’s paired a victim with their abuser.
He’s been working as a teacher for eight years and a hero for longer, yet he’d only chalked up the duo’s relationship to a rivalry despite the clear signs of a toxic relationship: the way Midoriya would stay quiet long after Bakugou’s screams that left Shouta’s ears ringing or how Midoriya always made himself look small in front of Shouta when they had a one-on-one conversation. Even if it’s been months since the first day of school, although Bakugou has mellowed out quite a bit, he’s always one spark away from burning a desk or worse, a classmate.
Really, Shouta is a dumbass, even if he can hear Oboro’s voice telling him to cut yourself some slack!
He kindly tells the voice to shut up.
Shouta sighs and takes a sip of his coffee in hopes his headache will recede. Predictably, it does not as the source of it sits in front of him:
Bakugou Katsuki.
The boy sits on a sofa, legs open like he owns it, and leaves his tea untouched. Shouta had moved the two to talk in the teacher’s lounge alone because his other students had been demanding Bakugou to explain what Todoroki meant.
And well, he doesn’t blame them. But there’s only so many productive words that can be exchanged when a kid is yelling over another and another and…
God, Shouta really isn’t cut out for this.
“Kid, explain to me. What did Todoroki-kun mean in his question?”
“How long has Bakugo been hurting you?” Todoroki asks with sharp, yet understanding eyes that makes Shouta pause.
He wonders: had he been misreading their dynamic this whole time..? Had he set himself up for this– too intimidating of a man that there wouldn’t be enough trust built between him and his students? That they would feel the need to survive together without his help even when he’s a professional teacher and hero?
Todoroki’s question is alarming in more ways than Shouta would like to admit, but there is a pressing matter that trumps everything else at the moment.
But when he attempts to understand, Midoriya shuts him out because of course his Problem Child does. Todoroki is no better, sealing his mouth shut when his classmates demand him and Bakugou for answers.
Shouta compares the two hot-heads–literally and metaphorically, respectively–and notes how unlike Todoroki’s stoic face, Bakugou seems uncharacteristically… guilty.
So he calls for the boy to meet in the teacher’s lounge, making sure to text Hizashi to cover for him.
And now Bakugou acts the same way as he did in the classroom: closed off with eyebrows furrowing down to the point where the boy’s wrinkles will age fast in the near future, yet averting his gaze in shame as if he’s trying to hide something.
His mouth is still shut.
“Bakugou-kun, I did not bring you here to waste my ti-”
“...said.”
Shouta wasn’t expecting to strain his ears for Bakugou out of all his kids. “What was that?”
“Exactly what he said, damnit!”
The silence rings loud between the two. Shouta lets it do its work by forcing Bakugou to continue as he hides his shock. “It’s exactly as half-and-half bastard said. I’ve been hurting Deku since we were kids because he was a useless fuck!
He’s always looking down on me like I need saving , and this hasn’t changed even before his quirk diagnosis! And this training practice was not any fuckin’ different, him thinking I didn’t even stand a chance against All Might, who was literally weighed down with kilograms– ”
– and look how weakened he was with those weights, Shouta silently comments–
“--then the nerd follows me like he always does, and he just wouldn’t. Shut! Up! Went on about how we shouldn’t fight All Might even if he was bonus points!”
The boy’s voice needlessly echoes throughout the teacher’s lounge. Thank fuck there’s no one else in these noise-cancelling walls, or someone would come over to check the ruckus, and that would worsen Shouta’s already tight headache.
“And so you punched him ?” he grits out, because it’s taking everything in him to not curse at not only the fourteen-year-old boy, but also at himself; Shouta couldn’t hear anything significant through the footage afterwards, so he had only assumed there was some sort of disagreement.
There’s not a disagreement if an opinion is shut out. That's a needless assault.
Apparently, Bakugou decides it is his turn to stay silent, so Shouta trudges on while pinching his nose bridge: “Bakugou-kun, I believe that to some extent, you realize how much damage you’ve caused.”
Shouta receives a glare from the boy, but it has no bite. Instead, Bakugou barks, “You think I don’t know?! But fuck, Sensei, he was useless . Yet suddenly he has this overpowered quirk that’s too much for his body, so because he can’t fight All Might means that I can’t either? The hell am I supposed to do if Deku doesn’t comprehend that he’s underestimating me when I’ve trained my quirk to become the best fucking hero while he’s sat on his ass writing in his soggy little notebook?”
It’s funny, Shouta thinks. Bakugou says one thing, yet his eyes say another; tears well up in the boy’s eyes despite the angry flush in his cheeks. He’s not surprised; from what Bakugou has said, there is… quite a bit to unpack here.
“Kid, you have a long way to go if you’re interpreting Midoriya-kun’s stance as an attack on your person.” The problem child doesn’t seem like the type to belittle Bakugou like he thinks, so Shouta continues: “Did you really listen to him? Or were you only hearing what you thought he was saying? Because from what I’ve gathered, you’ve kept Midoriya-kun on a lower pedestal your whole life. And every time he threatens your higher spot–”
“--he’s never been a threat, goddamni-”
“--you only know how to react with your fists. Is that correct, Bakugou-kun?”
The boy averts his eyes once more as he curls his fingers in a whitening grip. He scowls, traces of baby fat in his cheeks reflecting what he truly is: a child.
A tear runs down the boy’s face as he gulps. “...yes,” he grits out as if it physically pains him to say. Maybe it does with what Shouta now sees as an inferiority complex disguised as a superior one...
“What am I supposed to do, Sensei?” Bakugou whispers. Shouta doesn’t comment on how the kid’s voice wavers.
Seeing Bakugou like this–head in hands as he’s hunching over, legs just a bit closer together and making him seem more like his age–Shouta thinks maybe, just maybe, the kid deserves a chance.
Better to let him prove himself than throw his potential to waste.
So Shouta considers what the boy has done. He’s assaulted another student more times than he can count most likely, however, he has the potential to become a better person judging from how the boy swallows his pride in front of the teacher. At the end of the day, Bakugou is a product of his surroundings; there’s no way his teachers haven’t called him out on his violence throughout his life, yet here he sits because even Shouta allowed him to continue once more.
The man sighs, acknowledging Bakugou’s actions were not completely his fault. However, the boy still needs to face punishment… and guidance.
So he assigns the boy community service for a month. The boy will also attend detention after school everyday and in the process, write an essay of how to appropriately act in a disagreement and is suspended for a week. Surprisingly, Bakugou makes no comment and only gives an assuring grunt after he’s instructed to start his time in detention, leaving Shouta to find his Problem Child next.
Shit, his Problem Child. He really hopes the kid didn’t run off somewhere and actually stuck to his word… Shouta needs to check Shuzenji’s office and ideally have a civil conversation with Midoriya so both of them can be on the same page. Seriously, the hell did Bakugou mean when he called Midoriya “useless”?
Perhaps there’s more to the name Deku than he thought.
–
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Shouta-kun?”
His eye twitches. Normally, she would immediately direct him to Midoriya if he arrived shortly after the boy. “Has Midoriya passed by this office?”
“Oh my,” Shuzenji says with a grandmother’s knowing smile. “Worried about the boy, aren’t you? Anyway, he’s not paid me a visit today. I assume that wasn’t supposed to be the case?”
Well, goddamnit.