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Hisashi was furious when he found out. There was a part of him that wanted to blame his wife for this whole mess, but he was just as much to blame as she was.
There was still a part of him that cared for his son, but a much larger part of him that hated him. Hated him for being so disappointing, being so useless. Inko’s aunt was quirkless, but it still seemed unlikely that Izuku would ever… that Izuku could be…
Then he made the mistake of confiding in a coworker. A person he had once thought of as a friend turned around and told the whole office. He was ashamed. He was the laughingstock of the company, and he found himself completely unable to escape the jeers and snickers, the jokes made at his expense and the notes left on his desk saying all manner of ugly things.
He started drinking more, and he was rarely happy or satisfied. As it turned out, he was a mean drunk.
Then The Incident happened. Hisashi really hadn’t meant to do anything to the kid, but Inko had seen him slip while he was drunk. She was furious.
She threatened to call the police if he didn’t start working abroad. He was initially upset about being kicked out of his own home, but he agreed it was for the best. He would be able to get away from the humiliation that work had become work and the source of said humiliation.
That was how he ended up moving to America. He still sent money to his wife every month so she didn’t have to work. He didn’t tell his new coworkers that he had a son, let alone that he was quirkless.
That was enough for him, and it must have been enough for his wife.
-o-
Inko had seen, once or twice (if it was more often than that, no one really had to know), the burn marks that peeked out over her son’s collars or from underneath his sleeves. She had noticed the odd limp or the occasional black eye.
Typically, though, he had a reasonable enough excuse for his injuries.
“Oh, this kid in my class, Osami, he has a fire quirk he lost control of… I’m fine, I promise…”
“During recess, a couple of kids started playing a little too rough and got me and a couple other classmates caught up in it… I’m fine, I promise…”
“Kacchan didn’t really mean to do anything, he was just trying to get my attention to ask me something and his quirk accidentally went off since it's so hot outside and he's been sweating so much… I’m fine, I promise…”
It wasn't like she had actually seen anyone do anything to Izuku like she had with Hisashi, and even if she had, it wasn't like she could just change which school she sent Izuku to, it was likely the same problems would occur there, too.
And besides, Hisashi was… a special case. He was growing increasingly volatile in general, and it was only a matter of time before he became a genuine threat to all those around him.
He was also an easy problem to fix, unlike the school. Inko couldn't possibly penalize the school, she was just a stay-at-home mother whose husband wasn't even in the country.
Of course, this was assuming she had seen something happen, that Izuku was lying to her. But she hadn't seen anything and Izuku would never lie to her, he was a good son who perhaps worried about his mother a bit too much, and Inko trusted what he told her.
Despite all this, there was always a niggling thought at the back of her mind wondering why the school hadn't called her to explain the incident ahead of time, but it was so much easier to just believe her son.
Perhaps they knew Izuku would tell her. Perhaps she had somehow missed her call. Perhaps it was simply school policy not to discuss these kinds of incidents when the students didn't get in trouble.
Surely, there was a reasonable explanation.
And if she noticed her son’s expertly hidden lip, his sleeves tugged farther down, and the subtle makeup that covered certain spots on his face, well, no one had to know.
Really, what could she even do if she had taken action? The best thing to do in her opinion was to comfort him, make katsudon on the particularly terrible days, and carefully avoid the subject of Izuku becoming a hero all while discussing how amazing All Might was.
There was nothing more she could do.
And it was so much simpler this way. She didn't have to worry, the school didn't have to get in trouble, and her son didn't have to feel guilty about fueling her anxiety.
Really, it was much better for all parties involved for her to stay out of it.
And if she saw the conflicted look on her son's face every time she took him at his word, no one had to know.
And if she knew all she was doing was turning a blind eye to her son’s pain, well… no one needed to know.
-o-
The teachers of Aldera Middle School were exhausted. They had been for a while now.
They were tired of grading papers.
They were tired of teaching rowdy and frankly idiotic children.
They were tired of quirk contests breaking out in between classes.
They were tired of Bakugo screaming all the time, and using his quirk all the time, and defacing school property all the time, but his entry into UA was their best shot at serious school improvements, specifically among the student population.
Most of all, however, they were tired of Midoriya Izuku. Exactly how they were tired of him varied from teacher to teacher.
Some were tired of having to pander to a quirkless child.
Some just didn't want to get between him and Bakugo when Bakugo was on the warpath.
Some could not be bothered to deal with the incidents of bullying that surrounded him.
And there a tiny few that simply gave into peer pressure, too scared of making ripples to do anything substantial about Midoriya’s plight.
Generally, they were newer, younger teachers fresh out of college and irrationally idealistic. Eventually, they all found themselves placed in one of the previous categories, too tired to care about the poor child hiding burns from his mother.
In the end, not a single teacher lifted a finger to help Midoriya, some going so far as to make his life harder.
-o-
Aizawa Shouta was not fond of the new Problem Child’s antics. To have received such intense scarring at such a young age was simply mind blowing.
Aizawa was almost impressed.
Almost.
After the fiasco that had been dubbed ‘The Stain Incident’ by the few who knew about it, he was relieved to see Midoriya had better control of his quirk, though he still had a long way to go before he could be considered pro material.
Still, even if the Problem Child had his quirk under control, Aizawa was concerned.
He kept throwing up red flags that made alarm bells ring in Aizawa's head.
The nervous muttering and stuttering, the way he always seemed surprised when someone asked for his advice, the way his first response to physical contact was to flinch and then laugh nervously, his ridiculous pain tolerance.
And then came the day he caught the kid cornered between Monoma and some other kid he must have recruited from Gen Ed.
They were both giving him a tough time about not being able to control his quirk during the Sports Festival, and the situation was starting to escalate. The Gen Ed kid (who Aizawa didn't recognize, he’d have to ask Shinsou about him later) reached his hand out to shove Midoriya or maybe even use his quirk on him before Aizawa activated his own and stepped in.
Midoriya, worryingly enough, looked utterly surprised that Aizawa was defending him and sending the two bullies away. He turned to look at the Problem Child as he silently added talking to Vlad and Shinsou about those two to his to do list.
Midoriya started stuttering.
“Aizawa-Sensei! Uh, did you, uh, d-did you… n-need me for something?” His eyes darted around the hallway, and it took Aizawa a moment to realize he was identifying exits and likely forming exit strategies. Yet another concerning red flag.
“Why would you think that?”
“I-i-it’s just that… well, y-you didn't, uh, have t-to do that.” Midoriya paused, as if trying to figure out what to say next. He continued, “I wouldn't have gotten them in trouble if that's what you're worried about! I-I’m sure they meant nothing by it.”
Did… did Midoriya think he was in trouble?
“That's not what it looked like to me.” Midoriya’s shoulders slumped, seemingly defeated. “It looked like they were coming at you pretty hard, that's not nothing.”
That was when Midoriya’s shoulders hunched, and he looked up at Aizawa, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Then his gaze flicked across the hallway again.
Aizawa didn't think he had ever seen Midoriya look suspicious before. Determined, sure, the Sports Festival was supposed to bring that side out of their students. He’d seen the kid absolutely livid and scared during the Training Camp Incident, he’d seen him concerned about Iida leading up to the internships, but never suspicious. And the fact that that suspicion was being directed at one of his teachers concerned Aizawa greatly.
“Look, Problem Child, you’re not in trouble. You looked like you were having a hard time and I stepped in to help. That's all.”
“That’s all,” Midoriya echoed. The suspicion was fading, giving way to a spark of confusion.
Aizawa wondered if this distrust was created at home or at his previous school. Testing the waters, he said, “It’s my job as your teacher to defend you, kid.”
Midoriya's brows furrowed. So it had to do with teachers specifically. This doubt likely came from school, then. He supposed it could have been a parent turning their kid against the school system, but that was unlikely. Aizawa had met Inko, and she didn't seem the type.
He would have to look into the kid’s middle school.
-o-
Aizawa didn't like being in a principal’s office, even if it didn't belong to the rat. It was necessary, however, for him to legally obtain security footage from Aldera.
He had looked into the Problem Child’s file, and he was surprised to find that his teachers described him as disruptive and unable to complete his work in time. From what he had seen, Midoriya was one of the most well-behaved students in the classroom Aizawa had ever had, and his work was almost always done a day or two early, with multiple copies printed out.
Knowing he went to school with Bakugo, he decided to look into Bakugo’s file as well. He was again surprised when he saw that, by all accounts, Bakugo was a perfect student. He made stellar grades, had no black marks at all on his record, and his teachers all seemed to adore him, calling him a pleasure to have in class.
Aizawa wasn't particularly shocked about the first point, Bakugo was a deceptively smart child. The lack of infractions didn't do it either, he wouldn't really be in UA if he had a history of disciplinary issues.
What really caught Aizawa off guard was the “pleasure to have in class” comment. Bakugo was decidedly not a pleasure to have in class. He was diligent, sure, but he was quick to put down his classmates and didn't seem to understand the concept of an inside voice. He had woken Aizawa up from more than one nap.
So now, here he was, waiting in the principal’s office at Aldera Middle School, hoping to get them to give him their security footage.
“Sorry for the wait. What can I help you with, sir?” The principal sat at her desk across from him, stiff-backed and seemed a little intimidated by the man.
“I was hoping to be able to review your security footage from last year. Nothing major has happened, but we’ve noticed some interesting behaviors between Bakugo and Midoriya, and were hoping to see if said footage could shed some light on that.”
The principal nodded in understanding. “Those two always did have an… interesting relationship. They used to be very close friends. Then, well, you know…”
“I don't actually, could you elaborate?”
Her eyebrows raised. She was a middle-aged woman, probably in her mid 40s, with long black hair tied in a loose bun, and a professional black suit. “Well, I mean when young Katsuki got his quirk and Midoriya didn't.”
It took a moment for Shouta to understand. Was she saying Midoriya was once quirkless?
He sat still for a moment, trying not to let his surprise show. “Ah. I see. Midoriya was a late bloomer then?”
It certainly explained a lot. Aizawa had met some quirkless people before, but they were all older than him. They told him stories about what it was like, and with Midoriya being so young, it must have been infinitely worse.
It explained Bakugo’s surprise when Midoriya used his quirk for the Quirk Assessment on the first day. It explained how Midoriya had such poor control of it at first. It explained so many of the red flags Aizawa had noticed.
“Hm? Oh! I suppose. Imagine my surprise when he blew away that glacier at the Sports Festival! I have to say, when I saw he was still in the Heroics course at the beginning of the whole thing, I was wondering how he managed to stay in it, but then I saw the one-on-one matches. It's a shame he can't control it...”
“He can now, actually. Anyway, I don't want to get too off-topic. About that security footage?” Aizawa had to reign in this conversation. Hopefully, he would be able to see just how bad the Problem Child had it.
The woman straightened. “Oh, I-I’m sorry sir, but we don't have that footage anymore. We always get rid of the old footage when the new school year starts.” Her eyes flicked to the camera in the room, and her hands fidgeted in her lap.
She was lying.
“Ma’am are you lying to a member of UA staff, a pro hero?” He didn’t like throwing his weight as a pro around, it wasn't very subtle, and it didn't sit well with him. The situation called for it, in this case.
She flinched as if he had hit her. “N-no?”
“You don't sound too sure.”
She sagged. “Look, that is the general policy, but…” She shrugged. “We’re understaffed. We’re not in a great district, we can’t afford any more teachers, or even a proper police officer. And the staff we do have is… tired. We have a lot of backlogged work, such as footage we need to delete. We were hoping that having students go to UA would improve our school rating, and give us more funding and maybe even improve the quality of incoming students, but we’ve yet to see any effect. Until we do, the wheels have stopped turning, as it were.” She leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for sir, but I can get you the footage. Just, please…” She trailed off, apparently unsure of what to say next.
Aizawa nodded. “You can email it to me.” he took out a card that had his email address and gave it to the principal. He had written it on a piece of cardstock and cut it out with one of those paper cutters the school had that made straight lines.
He got up, and headed to UA. The principal didn’t bother to say goodbye, and he didn’t either.
-o-
Deku was excited for the school day to be over, and was currently sitting in final period diligently taking notes until the final bell rang. When it did, he packed up his stuff and listened to Uraraka babble next to him. She always seemed to have everything put away by the end of school.
Iida came over and started to join the conversation while Midoriya basked in the thought that he had friends who waited for him at the end of the day.
Unfortunately, his good mood was ruined when, as he left the classroom, he heard a low, “Problem Child.” He looked over and Aizawa-Sensei was there waiting for him. He thought he did a pretty decent job stopping himself from flinching, but judging from the man’s frown, perhaps not.
He turned to his friends and said, “You go on, I’ll catch up later, I’ll be fine.” He smiled, hoping to reassure them, and even though it was shaky, it seemed to do the trick.
“A-alright. Well, we’ll see you at the dorms, Deku-kun!” With that, Midoriya was left alone with his teacher, who gestured for him to follow.
Aizawa-Sensei led him to the teacher’s lounge, which was thankfully unoccupied.
“Sit.” He gestured to a couch in the middle of the room. Midoriya sat. Aizawa-Sensei took the seat opposite him and didn’t speak for some time.
Midoriya was feeling a mounting dread the longer the silence went on. Was he in trouble? Did Monoma accuse him of something? Did he fail to do an assignment properly? He had to be in trouble, right? Why else would he be in the teacher’s lounge? What could Aizawa-Sensei have to say that he couldn’t have just said in the hallway?
He was moments away from a panic attack when his teacher finally spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a late bloomer? That Quirk Assessment would have gone differently if I had known you had had your quirk for less than a year.”
Oh. He had found out about his dirty little secret. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes. “Are you going to expel me?”
Aizawa-Sensei sighed. “Kid, the way teachers treated you before was wrong. They failed to protect you, at times even punishing you for things that you had no part in. The way your classmates treated you wasn’t okay, and you shouldn’t have had to endure that.”
If Deku wasn’t crying before, he was now. He finally looked up at his teacher, trying his best to stay quiet even as he sniffled.
His teacher sighed again. “You haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I thought you would expel me. I mean, no one wants a weak little quirkless kid in their class, especially not a heroics course.” Quieter, he said, “I mean, you were even going to expel whoever came in last.”
There was silence again, and Deku was sure this would be the moment he was finally expelled, the moment Kacchan was proved right. He was proven wrong when Aizawa-Sensei said, “I am partially to blame for this mess. I should have looked into Aldera sooner. But that’s in the past. Now, I need to know when exactly you got your quirk.”
Midoriya couldn’t answer immediately. “O-oh, I, uh, I got it the day of the entrance exam. I was really lucky it showed up when it- when it did.”
The silence, amazingly enough, seemed heavier than it was before.
“You’re telling me that you had your quirk for less than a month on your first day here?”
Uh oh. Now Aizawa-Sensei was angry. He choked back a sob.
“I-I-I-- yes?”
His teacher didn’t sigh for a third time, but it looked like a close thing. Deku could have sworn he heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “Problem Child, indeed.” He sniffled again.
“S-so… am I-- am I exp-expelled?”
“No, you’re not. You’re not in trouble. We do need to figure out where to go from here, though.”
“I--I thought it was going p-pretty okay? Can’t we just keep going as before? I mean, I’ve got my q-quirk under control now, so we don’t need to be scared of my limbs bl-blowing apart anymore. A-and I make good grades and…” he must have run out of things to say or the courage to say them.
It was funny, Aizawa thought, that Midoriya could face high-profile villains like it was nothing, and yet be rendered incapable of proper speech in the face of someone who meant him no harm. It worried Aizawa, too.
“Look, Problem Child, every kid has to go to a quirk counselor when they first get their quirk so it can be properly documented and so they can help you get control of it. I’m going to require you to see one such counselor until they clear you. That shouldn’t take long since, as you said, you already have your quirk under control for the most part. That’s not what I’m talking about though.
“Kid, you shouldn’t be scared of your teachers. It’s inexcusable that I haven’t noticed sooner.”
“Huh? O-oh. Well, it’s not your faul--”
“It’s my job to notice when my students are uncomfortable, and I failed to do that. Given that, I would like to offer you a deal.” Aizawa-Sensei sighed. Midoriya almost didn’t notice.
“A-a deal?” Would he get expelled if he didn’t take it? Aizawa-Sensei said that he wasn’t in trouble but plenty of teachers had said that bef--
“I always give you a chance to explain yourself, and you tell me when you’re uncomfortable. I do my job, and you trust me.”
“I-I-I do trust y--”
“No, you don’t. When I stepped in between Monoma and you, you thought you were in trouble with me. When I tried to tell you otherwise, you didn’t believe me.” Midoriya’s heart sank a little. So he had noticed.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need for you to be.”
A quiet settled over the two of them. It was almost nice. Peaceful. It was almost a shame when Midoriya murmured, “I’ll try. To… trust you, that is.”
“That’s all I can ask.” Aizawa waited a moment before continuing, “I’ll try to be a better teacher, too.”
And with that, with the two promising to do better for each other, Midoriya left to go find his friends, and Aizawa started grading a large stack of homework.
After Midoriya stopped crying, of course.