Work Text:
The class of 1-A was tucked away in a waiting room, listening for the moment they would be called to exit.
Some, like Kaminari and Mina, were waiting anxiously, unable to sit still as they paced or restlessly stretched off to the side. Some, like Bakugo and Koda, were settled at the table, outwardly calm and patient. Todoroki had his normal stone-like features, unreadable, staring thoughtfully at the rapidly flickering lights as he leaned against the wall.
Izuku was hovering about the ceiling, unable to curb his excitement as he giggled away, the lights reacting to his restless energy.
Kacchan was about to enter the Sports Festival. They had both dreamed of this moment as kids, whispering to each other in the dark about hero titles and super moves and talking about who they’d want attention from, but seeing Kacchan actually here was a whole new experience in of itself. It sent thrums of energy into his bones that Izuku hadn’t felt in years.
He was excited for all of them. Pro heroes all over the world would have their eyes on the event, and Izuku was sure each and every one of them would leave their own unique fingerprint. He couldn’t wait to see how.
He lowered himself next to Kacchan, brushing the back of his neck with a light touch and making the blonde shiver with the cold of it. He shot a smirk over his shoulder anyway, and Izuku grinned wide. He moved over to Shouto next, tapping at his crossed arms. Shouto’s passive face changed to one of realization, and he uncrossed them, a small smile pulling at his lips as his eyes darted around the room, searching. Izuku floated back up to the ceiling, wondering if he should send a similar message of good luck to Mina and Kaminari especially, but Izuku hadn’t interacted with them much and wasn’t sure the message would get across. The last thing he wanted to do was set them on edge even farther right before the event started.
Izuku enjoyed his pranks, but he knew there was a time and place.
The intercom clicked on, telling them to head out. There was a brief pause as everyone gathered their wits, courage and strength, then they stood up from their chairs and straightened their backs.
Class 1-A walked into the arena with their heads held high, their invisible plus one a silent but easily felt cheerleader.
The stadium was huge, one gigantic circle that stretched up into the sky and was peppered with tiny specs that sat in the bleachers. A platform was set up in the center of the circle, with Midnight grinning widely on top of it, hands settled on her hips. The other classes were already gathered and waiting for them, a mass of students hovering in one anxious cloud.
Class 1-A made their way over. Izuku, however, had spotted the commentator's booth, and he flew up with a childish cackle.
Aizawa had been spotted.
The second Izuku was eye level with the man, his face shifted into a mixture of resignation and subdued amusement. Izuku only waved at him with a giggle, that renewed energy flooding in his veins and making the machines in the room malfunction for a moment. Present Mic fiddled with the technology, muttering under his breath, while Eraserhead gave him the most unimpressed stare Izuku had seen yet.
In Izuku’s defense, the stadium really was huge and he needed a good vantage point. If he floated aimlessly in the sky it would give him a disorienting feeling of unnatural weightlessness - this was the perfect compromise.
Hopefully the machines won’t give out while we’re talking, Aizawa stated flatly, still looking at him, and Izuku understood what he said between the lines. If the machines gave out during the festival, it’d cause some serious problems, so keep it under control. Izuku gave the man a slightly cockeyed salute in return and floated by, brushing shoulders with him to make the teacher shudder with cold chills. Izuku giggled, ignoring Present Mic’s wide eyes as he whipped his head around the room for the source of the voice, probably surprised Izuku was there at all.
He turned just in time to see Kacchan walking up to stand on the platform, most likely to make his comment for the class. Izuku felt his heart pound at the sight of his best friend, confident and strong with all eyes on him. This is what they had strived for. Every single student of U.A had worked themselves to the bone for this moment, latching onto this chance to shine.
Everyone held their breath for his words, even Izuku.
From all the way up in the commentator’s booth, Izuku could see a mischievous grin spread across Kacchan’s face. Everyone do your best, don’t let up, don’t give up, he said. It’ll be all the more fulfilling when I make you eat my dust.
Aizawa groaned, dragging a hand across his face in exasperation as the classes all shouted in a mass of anger and disbelief. Izuku only giggled. Kacchan may have softened, but Izuku still expected worse. His words were almost inspiring.
He stepped down from the platform, and Midnight took center stage, kickstarting the very beginning of the Sports Festival - the race.
Toshinori hovered uneasily by the door leading up to the booth.
He was waiting for Aizawa to take a break, and was posted up near the door unnecessarily early. His coworker wouldn’t have a chance to come down for another hour or so, but Toshinori really, really didn’t want to miss him.
The second Toshinori had joined the students to walk them down to the waiting room, he had felt the familiar chill that Toshinori now recognized as Midoriya’s weighing presence. Toshinori did his best not to raise his voice or talk much at all. Anything might trigger the boy again, and the thought of setting him off was one Toshinori wasn’t sure he could stand. Midoriya had every right to be upset, to hate him, and Toshinori still hadn’t explained himself. He doubted he would be able to talk properly around the guilt squeezing his chest anyway. He had felt out of breath, more on edge and panicky, and he hadn’t been sure if it was his own feelings or Midoriya’s unnatural vibe that was setting him off like that. Maybe a combination of both.
Aizawa knew about Midoriya, that much was clear from how the man seemed to be teaming up with Nedzu in staff meetings lately, and how at ease he seemed with such a daunting feeling weighed on his shoulders.
Toshinori wasn’t sure how much his coworker knew in general, but he knew to some extent, and Toshinori wanted to quiz Aizawa about how Midoriya normally acted in his classroom. He knew there was a difference, simply based on overheard, worried conversations between students during his class. Maybe getting more insight into his regular behaviors would give Toshinori the advantage - and the bravery - to finally bite the bullet and do what needed to be done.
For now, he had to wait in the empty hallway in front of the booth door, his legs aching and his stomach too nauseous to be hungry despite how little he had to eat that morning.
His phone burned a hole in his pants pocket, filling him with a sense of urgency.
Katsuki was having the time of his fucking life.
The second they were set free for the race was the second he bolted, explosions bursting out of his palms and sending him rocketing forward, wind pushing at his skin and hair, paired with the physical exercise of using his quirk as his muscles braced against the force made his heart pound with adrenaline.
Deku was watching. Somewhere in the crowd, Deku was there cheering him on, but instead of putting him down, the thought made his chest swell with excitement and pride and hope all balled into one blossoming emotion that coursed through his blood like liquid fire.
He would win this, he had no doubt about it. Katsuki was already miles ahead of everyone else. Well, mostly everyone.
No matter how fast he pushed himself, no matter how many hurdles he passed as quickly as possible, the half and half bastard was still ahead of him. He was a looming presence, the sound of feet skating on ice too far away for Katsuki’s taste. If anyone in the class had any chance at beating Katsuki to first place, it was him.
He roared with laughter as he soared through the air, another round of explosions pushing him forward.
Let’s see what happens when ice meets fire that’s not your own, I doubt I’ll be as shy, Katsuki thought, a determined grin curling his lips as he stared holes into half and half’s back.
Aizawa hoped Hizashi didn’t turn and see the smile he was desperately trying to smother.
Midoriya couldn’t sit still. Even though he wasn’t participating, the kid was ecstatic just to watch, and ever since the race started he hadn’t stopped muttering warped nonsense to himself. The kid just didn’t know what to do with his hands, and every couple of minutes he would shift between the control panel - attempting in vain to mindlessly mess with things - to hovering around Aizawa then Hizashi then back to the control panel. Occasionally he would attempt to sign something, but Aizawa couldn’t make sense of it and Midoriya would give up, at least temporarily. It made a mild guilt gnaw at his stomach, and his resolve to learn sign language when all of this ended only strengthened. What he wouldn’t give to know what Midoriya thought about all of this.
Aizawa backpedaled from that thought. The last time he had wanted something like that, he had almost died to get his wish. He would really rather not have a repeated experience.
Regardless, the kid was a restless ball of energy, and seeing him so energetic was a new but not unwelcome sight to see. Whatever it was that had caught Midoriya’s interest, he was clearly passionate about it, and seeing the kid beam as Bakugo let out a euphoric cackle had Aizawa ducking behind his scarf to mask his expression.
He was free to focus on Midoriya anyway, since Hizashi would’ve run the show no matter what Aizawa’s excuse was for not paying attention, a bonus for his friend’s extroverted tendencies. Besides, there wasn’t much for Aizawa to comment on that he felt wasn’t obvious already.
Hizashi yelped - dramatically and right in his ear - as Todoroki crossed the finish line, Bakugo right behind in second place. Midoriya inhaled, then whooped and hollered with almost as much force as Hizashi, his voice doubling and slightly rattling. Thankfully Aizawa couldn’t see any pain in his face or posture, only pride and excitement that rattled the glass in front of them to the point where Aizawa worried the windows would burst.
Aizawa sat back in his chair, content to just watch him. He was just glad the kid was enjoying himself.
Izuku charged out of the window of the booth, phasing through the glass harmlessly and skidding to a halt right next to Kacchan. His best friend was breathless, a gleam in his eye Izuku was all too familiar with. He rapidly tapped Kacchan’s shoulder, giggling and laughing and cheering for his best friend snatching second place in the first event of the Sports Festival.
Kacchan didn’t seem too happy at first, but the more Izuku celebrated the more he relaxed, a smirk sliding onto his face and making Izuku’s heart soar. He charged over to Shouto, beaming, and gave him the same treatment, laughing and cheering with lightning quick pokes to his shoulder and arm, even now making it a point to do so to his left side.
Izuku didn’t expect Shouto to use his left side for combat, not so soon, but he noticed Shouto regulating his body heat and creating a palm sized flame when he needed it, and that in itself was progress. He lasted so much longer with his ice doing that, and Izuku wished with every fiber in his being he could properly encourage him, say he did a fantastic job and to keep his head up high, but he knew it was pointless.
Instead, he settled for pokes and giggles and hoped that was enough.
Shouto felt warm. He hadn’t truly thought about the fact that Izuku was going to be with them, watching them. At first, when he had crossed the finish line with a flame tucked close to his chest for warmth, a nasty, poisonous feeling had flooded him, intense and bitter and hateful.
But then he heard the giggling of a ghost, hovering around a slowly grinning Bakugo. Izuku rushed over to him as soon as he had finished harassing his explosive friend, poking at Shouto’s left arm furiously and giggling with reckless abandon. Shouto couldn’t stop a smile himself, the harsh emotions slowly fading for a softer, more soothing feeling of peace. He had to remember he was fighting fire with fire - not violence with violence but hatred with warmth. He could be better than Endeavor, and he would.
Izuku’s giggles faded out, but his moment of clarity didn’t.
Midnight called for attention, and the second part of the Sports Festival was revealed: the Cavalry battle, painting a ten million point bullseye on his back.
Ice would always be his primary source of fighting, Shouto doubted that would ever change and didn’t particularly care to do so anyway. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his flames at all, even for non-fighting purposes.
As Midnight gave them the clear to find their teammates, Shouto’s mind churned.
Aizawa stood from his seat for the first time in roughly an hour and a half, stretching his arms and wondering if Midoriya would be upset if he left for a moment.
He needed coffee. Any longer with Hizashi’s booming commentary with so little sleep was going to drive him crazy, and Midoriya seemed preoccupied right now with the students, but he still worried about Midoriya coming back to see him gone. What if he was relying on Aizawa’s presence as a source of familiarity with all the noise and new faces? He was just a kid after all, and the last thing anyone needed was for Midoriya to get upset and bust a lightbulb or something similar.
But he needed coffee.
He gave himself ten minutes - they technically had a half hour before they needed to commentate on the next event - which he figured was plenty of time to get coffee and come back. Just in case, he told Hizashi that if it got cold out of nowhere, to say Aizawa was getting coffee and he’d be back soon. Hizashi barely raised an eyebrow at the instructions and shooed the tired teacher out the door.
As he walked down the stairs, he mulled over Midoriya’s behavior.
It was definitely a positive seeing him behave his age in such a normal way. Being so excited to see his friends participate chipped away at Aizawa’s stone heart, and Aizawa tossed around ideas of small activities the class could do to make the kid as happy. Maybe he could think of something Midoriya could participate in himself, even?
Midoriya couldn’t do much, admittedly. The things he could actually interact with were pretty limited, but he could certainly touch things. Buttons, maybe? A touch screen?
A touch screen. Could Midoriya interact with his phone?
He opened the door, still partially lost in thought, and almost walked right past Toshinori who was sitting on the floor right next to the door. The man stood quickly, towering.
Aizawa! Can I speak with you? he asked.
Aizawa gave him his best deadpan expression. I’m getting coffee, he replied, starting to move. He was on a timer after all.
Ah, yes, may I come with? Toshinori didn’t wait for a response before falling in step next to him. Aizawa kept a groan to himself, steadfastly ignoring Toshinori’s attempt at small talk. Hizashi was already giving him a headache for fuck sake.
Unfortunately, Toshinori didn’t quite get the hint and kept up his one-sided conversation the whole way to the break room. The second they stepped inside, Aizawa went straight to the coffee machine, thinking about how he would broach the topic of his ideas to the kid. Aizawa wasn’t sure how Midoriya would respond to them, but there was no harm in trying. He poured his coffee and took a sip, patiently waiting for the caffeine to kick in.
Toshinori knew this was important, knew he had to say something, but his pounding heart was strangling any words that were trying to push past. His palms were sweating, hands shaking as he closed the door to the break room a little too fast to be natural.
He had been falling apart at the seams to talk to Aizawa before, but now that his coworker was actually here, Toshinori was - struggling would put it lightly. He felt trapped, not knowing how to broach this topic or bring it up in a gentle, not jarring way.
Toshinori squared his shoulders. He was All Might, what was he doing? All his career he was comfortable with plowing ahead, full throttle. He didn’t need a plan, he needed to square his shoulders and just - go for it.
He took in a deep breath. Aizawa, I was - I was wondering something about Midoriya.
Aizawa paused from where he was sipping coffee at the counter. He slowly turned, his red eyes glaring and focused.
I never told you about Midoriya, Aizawa said, tone grave as his eyes glared. Who told you.
Well, this was a poor start.
Aizawa had turned to properly face him, hands clutching his mug of coffee. Toshinori felt horribly cornered.
How do you know about Midoriya, Aizawa said, growing more and more firm.
As much as Toshinori wanted to lie, he had to be honest with his coworker, not just for his own benefit, but for Midoriya himself.
I...met him, before. I only realized who was in the classroom a week or so ago.
Aizawa inhaled deeply, and Toshinori tried hard not to squirm.
You kept this to yourself for a week. It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer. How much do you know?
He shouldn’t withhold information, but was it disrespectful to Midoriya, sharing a secret he had no way of approving? Was it detrimental to keep this to himself?
He settled for being vague instead. Enough, he tried, but Aizawa stopped him.
Toshinori. His eyes pierced through the dark shadows of his hair, seeming to glow even with his Quirk inactive. How much do you know.
The Symbol of Peace, the greatest hero to rise in decades, shivered from Aizawa’s gaze.
There was a moment’s pause as Toshinori thought about his next move. He ended up sighing, trudging over to the small table with shame and dread weighing his limbs. He took a seat. Aizawa followed his lead and sat down without a word, expectant.
I looked up his file, Toshinori admitted, slowly, having to force the words out of his clogged throat. I also happened to meet him, a couple years ago. At a fan meeting.
At a worn down table, the smell of coffee doing very little to soothe his nerves as his coworker seemed to stare holes in his head, Toshinori walked through the story with his heart beating painfully in his throat, praying he would still have Aizawa’s company to keep afterwards.
The Cavalry battle would start any minute now. As much as Izuku wanted to be right next to the show, he knew his presence was a major distraction, even for those who got used to the chills, and he’d only get in the way. Besides, it would give Class 1-A an unfair advantage, and Izuku wanted nothing more than to see everyone give it their all, unbiased. So he gave everyone a wave goodbye - that went unnoticed, expectedly - and floated back up to the booth.
Present Mic was settled in his spot, fiddling with the volume and quality of their microphones. It didn’t look like he’d moved much, but a bottle of water was there when it hadn’t been before, resting on the chair next to him. Aizawa was gone.
Izuku frowned. He had been there when Izuku had shot like a bullet to ground zero, and the fact that he wasn’t now was off-putting.
The booth looked smaller without the man’s presence, less friendly. There were more shadows, more noise, machines that blinked bright colors that made no sense to him. Izuku hesitated, not breaching through the glass. Did he want to be in such a confined space? Maybe floating outside was a better idea after all. But what if Aizawa came back and didn’t see him? Would he worry? Izuku buzzed, unsure, blood pooling in the back of his throat as he debated. He looked down, trying to gauge if it was worth floating all the way back to the ground.
So many people were gathered in the stands, talking and shouting, so many faces Izuku didn’t recognize all congregating together. The stadium was huge. He was standing, but nothing was underneath him, and the feeling of falling even when he wasn’t moving made his stomach drop. His arms and leg twisted and pulsed.
Izuku looked up to the sky and whimpered, memories flashing in his mind’s eye. He wanted to go home. He wanted Aizawa, he wanted Kacchan.
Hey, a voice said, muffled from the glass, and Izuku whipped around with tears in his eyes, feeling liquid push past his lips and drip down his chin. His arms and leg still pulsed with phantom pain.
Present Mic was smiling, still fiddling with the control panel. Aizawa went to get some caffeine in him, he’ll be back any minute now, promise. He had to feel silly, seemingly talking to himself, but Izuku was grateful for the familiar noise. Present Mic wasn’t as comfortable for him as Aizawa, but he was still something to latch on to. Come over here, I’ll show you how I use this to talk to my listeners.
Sniffling, Izuku phased through the glass, slowly making his way to Present Mic and hovering over the teacher’s shoulder, tears dripping down his cheeks.
Izuku saw the goosebumps appear on Present Mic’s arms from his presence, but if he felt uncomfortable he was great at hiding it. A smile stayed on his face as he worked his way through the buttons, offering for Izuku to press one or two if he was able. One button turned on a microphone, the noise echoing static and making Izuku jump, but the minor scare made him giggle afterwards, more attentive as Present Mic clicked a button that dimmed the lights in the room, making the blinking, colorful lights on the machines turn from sharp and harsh to a gentle, soothing glow.
Izuku settled, content for the moment in Present Mic’s company.
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, gaze sweeping around the scenery as he pieced together his plan.
Everyone was going to go for icy hot, that was a given, the ten million was too tempting to avoid for most. Katsuki, however, had a different strategy. If everyone was distracted by the ten million, then they would be much less focused on everyone else around them, probably assuming - rightfully so - that the rest of the groups were going after the ten million as well. If Katsuki played his cards right, he could catch a lot of groups off guard by ignoring the ten million completely.
He was aware this might only work once. Other groups might catch onto his plan and be more wary, so he had to pick his first target carefully.
His eyes scanned the different groups, merciless. He was second place, so going after third place and working his way down was probably a safe bet. Eyebags was a group he probably wanted to avoid - and fuck if that thought didn’t sting, but he brushed it off and forced himself to be rational - and avoiding icy hot was also a must, even getting a little too close. The group he was building looked strong, stable, and as confident as Katsuki was in his own group’s offense and defense, it was an unnecessary risk. Icy hot will be alert and ready, and Katsuki didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.
Katsuki scoffed to himself, ignoring Kirishima’s curious look. He felt like Deku, gears ticking away as he churned out a strategy, even if Katsuki could do it quietly. He’d have to thank the nerd for the inspiration later.
Aizawa seethed as he made his way back to the booth, massaging at his aching knuckles.
An understandable injury, when he’d just punched the Number One hero in the face.
The Pro Hero’s mind raced, his experience as the former, as well as being a teacher, fought to pin down exactly what the worst thing about this whole situation was. His Pro Hero side filtered through post traumatic stress disorder symptoms, his teacher side thinking back on Midoriya’s oddly subdued behavior during staff meetings. Both sides ranted over the incident with All Might’s class and what that meant.
Midoriya had admitted he had never tried to leave the classroom before his students pushed him to. This entire time, a boy with such a horrible, tragic death was forced into a room with not one, but two of his aggressors. All day during class Midoriya had no choice but to be a silent observer, watching Bakugo go about his life, watching All Might tottle around like nothing was wrong.
Aizawa was rarely furious, but the only thing he could feel and taste and see was rage.
The bullying was enough, Bakugo’s words were too much, the isolation the boy had most likely gone through was pushing the line.
Toshinori had not only crossed it, but kept fucking walking. Midoriya was still suffering from all of it. Every mistake someone else could walk away from had Midoriya drowning.
He took the stairs up two at a time. Now he had restless energy pent up and he had to sit in a booth for another hour and a half before his next break. He grinded his teeth, wishing he had time to turn on his heel and walk all the way back to punch Toshinori again.
That poor kid.
Aizawa opened the door to the booth. The artificial lights were dimmed inside, the shutters closed to block light from coming in through the glass. The machine lights glowed faintly, and Hizashi’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he gestured to the control panel in front of him.
Midoriya hovered over Hizashi’s shoulder, and when he turned around to face the door, Aizawa could tell the kid had just gotten done crying. More blood than normal stained around his eyes and mouth, clothes speckled with blood but thankfully not soaked. His arms looked more broken than normal, leg bent just a little too much in the wrong way.
Aizawa stood in the doorway, staring at him, taking in every injury on his small body. His heart sank slowly, a stone light enough to take its time heading to the bottom of the sea.
Midoriya lit up, upon seeing him, and quickly made his way over, voice murmuring and echoing and wrong, clearly relieved.
This was so unfair. Pro heroes saw hundreds and hundreds of unfair and cruel fates, but it never got easier.
See? I told you, Hizashi’s fond voice cut through his thoughts. He was just gone for the moment.
Midoriya hovered close, causing his left side to feel as though it was freezing over, but instead of the playful behavior from before, it was quieter, a child clinging onto the hand of their parent for security and guidance. As Aizawa walked back over to his chair - Hizashi moving a water bottle in his way - he spoke to the boy, as calm and soothing as he was able.
I should have warned you I was leaving for a minute. Are you okay?
Aizawa clenched his hands into tight fists. They were in a booth suspended in the air, of course Midoriya would panic. Was it a full on PTSD episode? The room looked fine, and Midoriya seemed to be calming down relatively quickly, but the fact that he had gotten upset at all made his stomach clench. Aizawa knew he should’ve just stayed in the booth, Hizashi would’ve been fine getting coffee for him.
Midoriya murmured back, useless words, but his expression had smoothed out into calm. He sent Hizashi a thankful nod as he sat down, and Hizashi grinned and shrugged back, dismissive of needing an apology instead of the apology itself.
He had a minute of panic, Hizashi said, not needing Aizawa to ask. The room started shaking pretty bad, but not bad enough to knock anything over. I thought it would for a second there.
The kid stuck to his side even though Aizawa wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting. The scare seemed to have subdued him for the moment, and Aizawa cursed the timing.
He should’ve sent Hizashi. He should’ve sent Hizashi. He knew better.
Aizawa hoped he would liven back up during the following events and the moment would be pushed aside. He knew it wasn’t that easy, but Midoriya had just gotten comfortable messing around with things, and seeing him so downtrodden now was incredibly disheartening. He thought hard about any way to soothe the kid’s nerves, and it didn’t take long for his earlier ideas to surface. Aizawa pulled out his phone. Technically they weren’t allowed to have their cellphones in the booth - the signal might mess with the machines or the microphones - but Aizawa never cared enough to heed the rule. He ignored Hizashi’s disapproving look next to him and opened his notes app, pulling up the keyboard.
I had an idea earlier, but we have to run a test first, he ventured carefully. Can you try and type something? Whatever you want.
Midoriya shot him a curious look, but floated over to his phone anyway, having to look at his phone upside down. Aizawa turned his phone to face him properly, and Midoriya started poking away. At first his fingers simply phased through it, but the kid got the hang of it very quickly, and Aizawa watched with blooming hope as Midoriya typed out an excited message, his phone’s screen glitching like a broken monitor.
‘Hi Aizawa :D’ was the message he was greeted with when he turned his phone back around. He grinned, more and more ideas surfacing.
He left the commentating to Hizashi, knowing his friend wouldn’t mind. Instead, he sat with the ghost child and typed out different messages back and forth, turning his phone around and around.
Aizawa might have been shirking his duties, but the huge smile on Midoriya’s face was worth every minute.