Work Text:
Drip, drip, drip.
His head hurt. There was a sharp aching pain, it felt like his head was being split in half with an axe.
Drip, drip, drip.
His entire body felt numb.
Drip, drip, drip.
He didn’t know where he was. Where was he?
Drip, drip, drip.
The drip-dropping only made his head pound harder. Why wasn’t it stopping?!
Drip, drip, drip.
Shouta- Eraserhead- pushed himself up from where he was laying on the ground. The cold, hard asphalt ground. The dripping only continued, and if it didn’t stop soon, it was going to drive him mad.
Eraserhead paused. There were sounds. Sounds other than the dripping, sounds that were originating from deeper into the back alley he was currently in.
He could call it the end of the day, pretend that he never heard the suspicious sounds, head home and Shouta could cuddle up with his many cats and fall asleep. Or he could investigate. Possibly find something that would hold him up at the police station- preventing him from going home, ergo, preventing him from falling asleep.
But Aizawa Shouta was a hero. And that meant that the second option wasn’t possible if he heard something suspicious, such as groaning, he was obligated both morally and ethically as an employed hero.
Shouta took his first step, then his next. His head hurt more with each movement of his body, the most likely suspect was either a concussion or a migraine. With how he woke up, Shouta believes that it is the former.
The already dim lighting fades away with each step, shadows growing longer and darker as he goes deeper into the alley. From the outlines he can see, there is nothing out of the ordinary laying on the ground.
No unconscious criminals or villains. No innocent civilians splayed out on the pavement. Nothing. But the dripping continues. And then he hears another groan. Turning to the sound, he finds a person- their body displayed on top of a dumpster, their entire form is limp.
The figure looked like they were unconscious, and Shouta wondered how long that would remain before they either woke up or more morbidly, died.
Straining his eyes on the figure, Shouta was able to make out the colour green…. and an alarming amount of red. The red ran down the person’s body, steadily streaming down their arm, and over the edge of the dumpster.
And it drip-drops to the ground.
Drip, drip, drip.
Aizawa Shouta was a professional underground hero, who specialized in stealth and criminal containment and capture. He taught the heroic course at the most prestigious school in Japan- if not the world. But none of it prepared him for the revelation he faced now.
*
“For this exam, Principal Nedzu has determined that each student will be going on patrol with their homeroom teacher. Since that is me, I will be taking each one of you out on patrol, I work underground heroics, which means I mainly patrol at night.
“Because of this exam, I will be taking each one of you out on your own. There will hopefully be a schedule designed and distributed to all of you, since this is a live-action exam, meaning that there is no rubric for you to follow, but there will be heavily enforced rules that each and every one of you WILL adhere to.”
*
“Yoooo, Shouta!” Shouta had to suppress a groan for escaping his lips, why did Hizashi have to be so loud, especially when he was attempting to sleep. Raising his head to make eye contact with his friend, “What is it, Yamada?”
The strategic use of Hizashi’s last name quickly made Present Mic stutter in his step, and reel slightly back. “Jeez, dude, you don’t need to be so mean!” The slight pout in his friend’s tone was enough to make a feeling of guilt build in his stomach.
Shoving the feeling away, Shouta became more genuine, “What did you want to talk about, ‘Zashi?”
“The next student that you are testing for the exam with is Midoriya, right?”
Shouta didn’t manage to suppress his groan this time. “Yeah, I wonder how it will go, I just hope that we don’t have to make a hospital trip.”
*
Midoriya!
Shouta rushed forward. Midoriya was still alive. Dead people don’t make sounds, but to make sure, he checked his student’s pulse. Pressing two fingers to Midoriya’s neck, Shouta had never been more relieved when he felt the pumping of blood.
Slower than it should have been. But it was better than no pulse! And that made Shouta grateful. His student was still alive.
Shouta fumbled around with his utility belt… knife… handcuffs… phone! Ripping the device out of its place, he fumbled more with the small buttons. Who should he call? He should probably call in for reinforcements and an ambulance.
So he did just that, calling for both an ambulance and police assistance, Shouta stayed on the line with the operator, who kept trying to soothe and calm him down. She kept on insisting that everything would work out fine and that the ambulance’s ETA was only minutes.
But he ignored her since he started on the line, he had climbed up onto the dumpster, despite the protest of his body. Not knowing what to do, Aizawa crawled over to where his student’s head was, and repositioned it into his lap.
Midoriya’s eyes were closed, he almost looked peaceful. If it weren’t for the steady stream of blood that washed down onto his student’s face, he would have thought that he had just fallen asleep. Drifted off to join his classmates in their slumber. Gone to dreamland.
But this reality was grim. Shouta knew that his problem child just hadn’t taken a nap, or passed out from exhaustion. The thought of not being able to properly protect Midoriya had hurt Shouta more than he cared to admit.
He prided himself on the fact that he was capable of caring for his students and bringing them out of the fight with only the minimum injuries. But now his student lay on trash, blood running down his face and body.
Drip, plop.
Shouta stared down at Midoriya’s face, blood now mingled with fresh tears, and he couldn’t help but feel excited, because if Midoriya was crying there was a good chance that he was awake, and if he was awake, that was some good news.
But the hope and joy didn’t last any longer. Liquid ran down Aizawa’s face, and he couldn’t help but reach up towards his head, was he bleeding too?
No. Aizawa wasn’t. It was just his tears. When was the last time that he cried? He honestly didn’t know.
The acknowledgement of his tears, only made it worse. His tears are now freely falling, faster and faster, growing in intensity. He failed as a hero. He failed as a teacher. He failed his student. He failed his problem child. He failed Midoriya Izuku.
His tears didn’t stop. Sirens came into hearing range, and Shouta continued to cry. Paramedics arrived on the scene, urging Aizawa off of the dumpster. It took all three EMTs to get Midoriya safely off the dumpster.
Shouta continued crying.
The paramedics loaded Midoriya into the back of the ambulance. He was only struck out of his stupor when one of the paramedics approached him, “You can ride in the back with the patient.”
The ride to the hospital was stressful. Two EMTs stayed in the back with Midoriya tending quickly to some of his minor injuries, and trying to handle some of his more severe wounds. Shouta watched them hang more drips, filled with drugs and fluids, and most importantly, blood.
The arrival to the hospital was just as hectic as the ride, Midoriya was rushed from the back of the ambulance, a flurry of people had swarmed around the green-haired child yelling commands, conditions, and medical jargon. Shouta barely understood the words that they were throwing around.
While they rushed his student to one of the emergency rooms, Aizawa was led away to a different examination room, he was met there by an older lady, with a stern-looking frown. Her body was clad with a purple blouse and a priss white doctor’s coat.
The doctor introduced herself as Dr. Ayano Kokona, and Shouta thought that he recognized her from somewhere, but his mind didn’t supply from where, cotton still plugged his head, making everything seem like he was watching his life go on from an outside perspective.
They were halfway through the examination when it felt like some took a pin and popped the balloon around his head. His thoughts and feelings came back to him. Dr. Kokona- who he knew from his first-aid response class- was putting bruise cream and polysporin on his bruises and cuts.
When she noticed that his spirit had returned to Shouta’s body she let off a small huff, “Good, good.”
Her tone of voice reminded him of Chiyo when someone surprised her with a gift. “Now that your present, I need to ask you some questions, if you are uncomfortable answering, I still urge that you answer. Please attempt to stay as true as possible. Can I begin?”
“Let’s get this over with. You can begin.”
“I was informed by police enforcement that you are a professional hero. Do you have your hero license with you?”
“I should have it here somewhere…” Shuffling through more of the pockets on his hero suit, Aizawa pulled out his heroics license, a picture of Shouta from only a couple years ago, along with his hero name, and civilian name.
“Good, good. I need to write down the contents for our medical records,” Dr. Kokona took his license from his hand, “Can you recite the events of the night before the offending event to me from memory? If it is not possible, please try to do your best.”
Aizawa stumbled. Could he recite the events of the night to her? He remembered who he was with, but he couldn’t remember anything else. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t remember anything else from the night.”
Dr. Kokona ‘humphed and wrote something down on her clipboard. “That is fine. Now, last question, what do you remember from events after the offending event? Please try your best to be true to your word.”
Shouta grimaced. He remembered all of that. But he didn’t really feel like talking about it, every time he thought about it, it made guilt coil in the pit of his stomach, and a complete feeling of absolute failure to swell in his throat.
“I woke up. I was laying on the pavement. I don’t remember how I got on the payment, or why I was even there. My head hurt, it felt like someone was trying to split my head in half with a hatchet.
“There was dripping. And I couldn’t tell where the dripping was coming from. My limbs ached and they hurt, and when I tried standing up, it felt like I ran a marathon… and then there was a groan. And I didn’t want to investigate.
“I didn’t want to investigate. I knew that there was possibly an injured criminal or civilian or vigilante. But I did. And my student. My sweet, caring student was lying atop of a trash dumpster bleeding. Dripping blood.
“I almost didn’t check. I could’ve gone home. I almost killed my student from negligence. Either way, I failed at my job. As a hero. As a teacher… I failed! I should’ve done better, I should’ve done more.”
Aizawa stuttered on his rant. A slight pulsing pain was radiating from his foot. Dr. Kokona stood in front of him, a cane held in her hand. She didn't look very impressed with him. “You did you job, you did your best. I think I’m done for now. Get lots of rest, and I would recommend some therapy.”
Aizawa stood up and thanked her, Dr. Kokona was on her way out the door when she turned back to him, “Also, go take a shower, I’ll ask one of the nurses to take you to the communal unit bathroom, and have another one throw in some toiletries and clothes.”
“And try not to blame yourself.”
*
Only when he was in the bathroom, peeling off his costume that both his clothes and body were covered in blood. And it made him sick to think that it wasn’t his own blood. It made him even sicker to think that wasn’t even a criminal's or villain’s.
It didn’t ease the sick feeling when he washed his body, watching as the muted red turned to muted brown and orange mix as his student’s- one of his favourite student’s- blood went down the drain.
Water streamed over his face, mixing with his fresh tears, making it even more impossible to see. He needed to inform Nedzu if he didn’t know already. And Aizawa hoped that the police had already informed Midoriya Inko, just the thought of having to tell the parent of his student about what happened, what he failed to do, scared him to the core.
Would she be angry? All Might said that she was protective of her son, doubting UA’s capability and competency of caring for her son properly, for protecting her son. Originally, Aizawa Shouta, underground hero, Eraserhead would have groaned, and disagreed with her.
UA had its bumps and bruises, but it was getting a handle on the villain activity, and they had faced the League on many occasions, and Midoriya seemed to be prone to attracting villains. Shouta would have disagreed. But now he understood.
They were failing to properly care for students- his students. If they didn’t want any more mistakes, then UA would have to step up their game, once again.
*
Midoriya chased after Aizawa as they leapt rooftop to rooftop, checking back at his student, Eraserhead was relieved that he was keeping pace with him, if not going faster than he was capable of.
Stopping briefly when he heard something, Midoriya caught up to him. “What is it Aiza-- Eraserhead?”
Shouta mentally sighed, he didn’t know if his students were ever going to correct their mistakes when it came to classroom name to hero name, “I heard something over there,” pointing his finger in the direction of another rooftop, “I want to go investigate, if I signal you in, you come in, stay back and act accordingly, if you rush in, I will fail you, and guarantee that you won’t graduate UA until you’re twenty.”
DEKU gulped, he knew that wasn’t a threat. That was a promise.
Eraserhead jumped to the incrimination roof, noticing a suspicious individual. Attempting to grab them with his capture weapon failed, the man dodging to the side milliseconds before it reached him.
The person grunted. “Eraserhead.”
Aizawa signalled for his student. This was going to be an interesting lesson for Midoriya to learn.
*
The man was overbearingly strong. From what Midoriya had analyzed and told him, his quirk worked similarly to All Might’s, where he only had a short time frame from where he could use his quirk.
The wait for the end wasn’t the best. Both he and DEKU had taken hits after hits, and after a struggling uphill battle, Eraserhead was on the edge of the roof, his limbs protesting from moving. Muscles aching.
And the villain lunged.
And Midoriya lunged.
And Eraserhead watched as one of his students, one of his favourite students, was rammed off the rooftop, hitting the wall of the building, before making a loud, and painful sounding land.
That could have been him. That should have been him.
And Aizawa saw red.
*
Shutting off the water, Shouta stepped out of the shower, he was clean enough for now.
True to Dr. Ayano Kokona’s word, someone on the staff had thrown in a bright blue pair of scrub bottoms, along with a patient robe. Aizawa guessed that they probably didn’t want him to be mistaken for a doctor.
The scrub pants were comfortable, but the patient gown was scratchy on his newly scrubbed clean skin. But it was the least of his worries. He had a student to check on, and he possibly had a parent to call.
Leaving the bathroom and informing one of the people at the nurse’s station that he was done, and asking them about his student’s condition, and where he could find him. He was informed by one of the nurses that his student had been moved to an ICU room on the fourth floor and that he was permitted to visit.
But was warned that it might be a heart aching sight.
*
When he arrived on the fourth floor, Aizawa wasted no time checking each of the glass-walled rooms for his student. He almost missed the green tuft of hair in the 9th room he visited.
There laying in a too-large bed, looking smaller than ever, was his student. There was Midoriya hooked up to monitors and machines, a tube stuck down his throat, making sure that he was receiving the amount of oxygen that he needed.
Midoriya was pale, and Aizawa felt his heart shatter. He stood there and stared at his student. Only breaking out of it when some reached up to his shoulder and tapped him. Looking back to who it was, he was met with a short green-haired woman. Green eyes, with tears streaming down her face, she had a gentle smile on her face.
Her clothes were ragged, seemingly put on in a rush.
*
Midoriya Inko was a loving mother. She cared for her baby and learned from her wrongs. She supported her baby boy in his dreams, and when things got rough, she would be right there, making sure that things were going to get better.
She may not have always believed in his dreams, but she learned from her error. Being a hero was always Izuku’s life aspiration. So when she was informed that her son was going to be participating in a live event, Inko felt uncomfortable.
But this was important to his education as a hero.
And Inko let it happen.
And then, on the night of the exam. Inko, who had had trouble falling asleep due to anxiety and concern, was awoken from a phone call. There was an accident. Izuku was in the hospital, and she would be informed when she arrived at the hospital.
So like the good mother she was, she got dressed as fast as she could, tugging her phone off the charger, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the front door. Not bothering to lock it, because her baby boy was more important than jewelry or money.
The fastest train to the hospital took her nearly a half-hour, the entire time all she could think about was if her baby was okay. When she did arrive at the hospital, she rushed inside, explaining why she was here and demanding to tell them where her child was.
The intensive care unit.
One of the nurses led her there. When she arrived, there stood a man, he had long black hair, that was still wet from either rain or from a shower. He also had a patient robe, and she remembered how her son told her all about his homeroom teacher.
Taking a breath, she reached up to the tip of her toes, she tapped his shoulder twice. He turned around to look at her. A mix of emotions flashed across his face, and recognition flashed in his eyes.
“Mr. Aizawa?”
The man cleared his throat, “That is me. I’m so sorry about Izuku.”
Inko smiled sadly at him. “I can’t blame you. Only the person that did this to him.”
At the same time, a doctor came to talk to Inko. “Mrs. Midoriya?”
“Yes.”
Shouta perked up. He needed to know what his student’s condition was. “You may want to come to talk somewhere else, or sit down.”
Mrs. Midoriya smiled kindly, “Dear, you can say it here, I am fine, and I’m sure that Mr. Aizawa needs the reassurance that my baby boy is still alive.”
The doctor looked skeptical but started anyway, “Midoriya Izuku sustained many minor injuries, the biggest of them all was his head wounds. When Midoriya arrived, we gave him a CT scan, which informed us that his brain was swelling. To reduce the swelling we gave him some steroids.
“Unfortunately, Midoriya had a reaction to the steroids, where he seized. Because of this, we changed steroids. We got the same reaction, in the best interest for Midoriya’s health, we medically induced a coma using pentobarbital.
“We are hoping for swelling to go down, before bringing him out of it.”
Inko couldn’t bother to hide her sobs.
Her baby boy was in a coma. A medically induced one, but still a coma. Her legs trembled and her heart broke. Her kind, smiling boy was hurt, so hurt that he was comatose. Aizawa reached over and rubbed a circle around her back and led her to the pair of chairs.
“Sit, Mrs. Midoriya, you should sit down and recover some strength.” Aizawa urged her into the chair, and Inko saw the small tremors in his own legs, and she pulled him down into the seat beside her.
“He was such a good kid.” She said softly, “When he was young, he would bring home stray cats and dogs, one time he brought home an injured fawn. He always tried his best to nurse them back to health. It was the cutest thing ever.”
Shouta looked down into her eyes. They were still leaking tears, but she wasn’t sobbing anymore. “Or the time he learned how to ride a bike. He crashed into a tree and bumped his head. But his biggest concern was me freaking out on the way to the hospital!”
Inko let out a wet laugh. “A week ago, I would have been upset, I would probably yell at you Mr. Aizawa, but now, in good faith, I can not do that… Izuku has always wanted to be a hero. And I know that it has drawbacks and risks.”
Aizawa could say no more but thank you, and cry. Inko pulled him into her arms.
*
Eraserhead turned to the villain. Red invaded his vision. And the next thing he knew, was that he was holding the villain by the throat. Lifting him off the ground and holding him out beyond the edge of the roof.
And before he could stop himself, he let go.
Shouta had never been more satisfied when he heard a crunch. He wasn’t the biggest concern of his. Safely jumping down off the roof, Eraserhead went to check on his student.
Entering the alley, Aizawa finally succumbed to his injuries.
*
A week had gone past. Aizawa felt guilty and had yet to return to teaching classes. Getting up from where he laid on the couch, he got up to go to the bathroom. Cats meowing at him, he ignored them.
Wetting a cloth, Aizawa dragged it across his face. Looking up into the mirror, Shouta would admit that he was startled. There stood Midoriya. Green hair framing his face, freckles covering his cheeks. He wore white, not a speck of spec dirt or grime on it.
He looked ethereal.
“It isn’t your fault, Mr. Aizawa.”
Shouta rubbed his eyes. When Midoriya didn’t disappear, Shouta asked tentatively, “Are you real?”
“Yes.”
Shouta choked on air. “Are you dead?”
“Yes.”
Shouta felt sick. “Do not blame yourself, Eraserhead.”
“It is though! You’re dead, and it's all my fault!” Izuku smiled sadly.
“I knew what I was doing when I lunged forward to protect you.”
A single tear dropped from his face, “Why? Why did you choose to die instead of me?”
“Because your life means more to me than my own life did. I care so much more for you than I ever did for myself. In response to the sacrifice, please do good, Mr. Aizawa, care for others, care for yourself.”
“Will I ever see you again, Midoriya?”
Izuku smiled sweetly, “I don’t know,” a lump formed in Shouta’s throat, “And Mr. Aizawa, please call me Izuku.”
“Then call me Shouta,” he didn’t even think about it as he told his student to call him by his first name.
“Okay, Shouta, please tell everyone then, my classmates and friends, and the teachers, especially All Might, and my mother, that I love them and care for them. And that I will watch them carefully, and watch over them now.”
A tear slipped down Midor-- Izuku’s cheek, “And Shouta, please tell everyone that I will miss them.”
“Bye Shouta.”
“Bye Izuku.”
And Midoriya was gone.
Seconds after his phone rang. Shouta picked it up swiftly, on the other end was a sobbing Midoriya Inko. She suppressed her sobs for a moment, barely being able to tell Aizawa anything, through sobs and cries and moans, she fought to say words.
“Izuku coded.” Inko cried, “And they weren’t able to revive him. He’s gone… my baby’s gone!”
And Aizawa Shouta, underground hero, Eraserhead, who was specialized in two fields, and whose heart was hardened, who cried more in the last week then he did in the entirety of his life, sobbed. Sobs breaking out of his throat, and tears coming down his face.
His hero, his student, his problem child, Midoriya Izuku, was gone. And Aizawa didn't know if he would ever see him again.