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Izuku has always had a habit of hiding his problems, his fears, his injuries.
And increasing his lack of trust in others did little to help these habits. No, they only served to make everything worse.
If someone were to ask, Izuku would say it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault, this time , that his emotions feel like they’ve been set to the max and then some, that his fears and distrust of others has shot through the roof in the blink of an eye.
But no one asks, and no one knows.
Because when Izuku gets hit by a stray Quirk, he doesn’t say a word.
Why would he? He’d only get scolded, after all. Scolded for being too slow, for being in the way, for being a villain magnet and a Problem Child . No, Izuku doesn’t say a word to his teachers, nor his peers, because he knows better.
He knows better, and he knows better than to ignore the screaming in his gut, the reminder that people can’t be trusted, that they can’t be considered safe even if they act like they are.
People are wonderful actors, Izuku has learned, and he won’t fall for it again. Not here, not when he has a chance to become someone worth something at all, so long as he makes it through Yuuei.
Luckily, Izuku is able to act, too. He has to- everyone needs to be an actor to survive in this world. To make it through with a smile, to make it look genuine ? Of course Izuku fakes it.
No one wanted to deal with a sad kid, so he let them have a happy one. And some days, he was .
Those are the days that went bad, in the end. Because too much joy was bad, just like being sad was asking for trouble.
And so when Izuku gets hit by a stray Quirk, he pretends that he didn’t, that nothing is abnormal.
And so when Izuku gets hurt in the middle of class, he pretends that he didn’t.
It’s what he’s always done, after all, and what he’ll continue to do.
No one will catch on. No one ever has . Izuku has passed a decade hiding his fear, hiding his joy, hiding laughs and cries and the plea that tries to show in his eyes. Upping his distrust changes nothing.
It just gives him more motivation to continue to act.
And he's done just fine on his own, making his way through the world without a single person noticing how he shied away from their 'kindness', how he never took the 'help' offered to him.
So Izuku knows that, despite how he panics internally, no one will notice the difference.
-----
Something is different about his Problem Child. Shouta knows this to be a fact , but he can't quite figure out what it is.
But something has changed. And now Midoriya is acting oddly.
And yet, weirdly, Midoriya seems the same as usual.
It's probably why it takes Shouta a moment to realize it. The difference...it's almost like someone took everything that makes up Midoriya and skewed it a bit to the left, putting everything off kilter but still using the same elements.
The first red flag is when Midoriya returns to the dorms half an hour later than promised on Sunday evening.
This, admittedly, isn't unusual. Midoriya always runs late when returning, and it's always for one of two reasons: Midoriya helped someone on his way, or Midoriya got pulled into yet another villain attack.
But when Shouta asks for the reason of the day, because it's procedure and not because he worries about his student, thank you, Midoriya hesitates to respond.
Hesitates without sound, that is.
Midoriya has hesitated before, usually because he was trying to find the best way to say 'I got into a fight again', but he's always stammered as he did so. To be silent...it’s off putting.
Especially when, when Midoriya does answer, Midoriya claims he didn't run into a villain.
"The roads were crowded, so I had to take another path."
Midoriya didn't budge on the answer, not even when Aizawa gave him the 'I Know You're Lying About Something' look that he's perfected over the years. So with that stalemate, Aizawa brushed it aside, hoping the boy was just embarrassed by the true reason for his tardiness.
The second red flag emerges the next morning, when Aizawa sees how tense Midoriya is when talking to his friends. He seems almost...on guard, despite his beaming smile and rapid speaking. The boy glances around often when speaking, like he’s looking for something. His shoulders are tenser than usual, more curled in, like he wants to be less noticeable. Even his smile is less genuine, more perfected, like it’s a pasted on mask than an expression of joy.
His friends seem to notice, too, and Shouta sees the worried looks they pass between themselves. But the concern disappears, replaced by more kindness, the moment Midoriya looks back at them. Their happiness seems almost increased, as if they hope it will be contagious.
It isn’t, and Midoriya slips into the seat with shaking hands.
The third red flag is Bakugou, who doesn't look him in the eyes as he approaches him during lunch and says, "Deku is acting funny."
"How so?" Shouta asks, even though he's had the same idea in his head.
"He's acting like he's back in middle school all over again. His smiles are fake as shit."
Shouta doesn’t like the answer, the words that imply something darker than Aizawa expected. A past that Midoriya wouldn’t want, that Shouta would want for his student. A past where Midoriya got through his days with fake smiles and constant looks over his shoulder...Shouta wouldn’t want any of his students to have a past like that.
He doesn’t like what that implies, either, about why the boy is bringing these actions back, why he feels that he has to resort to this behavior yet again. It’s how Midoriya was, he recalls, at the beginning of the year. But by now, living in the dorms, having been in Yuuei for months...what’s happened, to reset the boy’s progress?
‘ It might just be a bad day, ’ Shouta tries to tell himself, but he doesn’t believe it at all.
The fourth red flag comes when Shouta sees Midoriya wince in pain after hero training, and notices a red spot on the boy's white shirt.
A red spot right over his stomach that continues to expand.
Now, Shouta knows Midoriya well. And he knows that his Problem Child has a tendency to get hurt. He also has an absurdly high pain tolerance- and oh , Shouta thinks that he’s starting to realize why - that lets him break bones and keep going on like nothing has happened.
But Midoriya isn’t stupid. And Midoriya wouldn’t let himself bleed out because he doesn’t want to, what, get scolded for being reckless? Was Midoriya even at fault , for whatever happened?
Shouta doesn’t know. All that he does know is that he’s standing the moment he sees Midoriya come in, hand trying to hide the blood stain, and he’s saying, “Class, use this period as a study hall. Yaoyorozu, Iida, make sure they stay in line. Midoriya, come with me.”
And oh , the look Midoriya gives him. The wide-eyed, fearful expression.
What happened to his student, for Midoriya to look at him this way? Who hurt him?
Shouta watches as Midoriya shuffles up to the front, now tugging his blazer closed around him, having previously been unbuttoned. The boy winces slightly with the motion, but smooths his face out immediately. It’s a quick reaction, an immediate fix.
It’s too well done. Shouta has to turn away and walk out of the room, in order to hide the grimace that forms.
Midoriya follows him, trailing behind in a way that seems more like habit than a purposeful move. Shouta can see him at the edge of his peripheral vision, but just barely. It’s like the boy has learned that he can’t walk side by side with someone, but he’s not allowed to hide out of sight.
Shouta picks up his pace when he notices the red once more, and Midoriya reluctantly does the same.
When they reach Recovery Girl, however, Shouta sees how Midoriya falters. Shouta gestures for the greenet to go in, and he does, albeit reluctantly. Recovery Girl turns around as they enter, and for a moment she looks like she’s going to say something, but her mouth clicks shut the moment she sees the blood-soaked shirt.
“Take a seat,” she chooses to say instead, and Midoriya does, eyes trained on the floor. She makes quick work of pressing a kiss to his forehead, and Shouta watches in relief as the boy slumps over, eyes drooping.
“Here,” Recovery Girl says. “I have a spare shirt, why don’t you change into it?”
Midoriya blinks at her oddly, the motion slow, but then he nods and she hands over the shirt. Shouta watches as his student shrugs off his blazer, then fumbles to take off the shirt.
And when Midoriya slips off the shirt, Shouta’s eyes dart to the odd, black marking on his shoulder.
“Kid,” Shouta says, words slow as he asks, “where did that marking come from?”
Midoriya stiffens, then yanks on his shirt, as if hiding the marking makes it disappear. But out of sight does not mean out of mind, and Shouta frowns as he recalls yesterday’s excuse.
“It’s a Quirk,” Shouta breathes out. “You got hit by a Quirk.”
Midoriya doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree. Shouta studies his expression, more things clicking into place.
“Have you felt...more worried than usual?” Shouta asks, and here Midoriya jolts.
“You-” Midoriya clamps his mouth shut, but Shouta urges him to continue. More hesitant, now, Midoriya asks, “You noticed ?”
He says it with so much shock, so much disbelief, that Shouta can’t help but respond with, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“No one ever has before,” Midoriya mutters, and then he slaps his hand over his mouth like he didn’t mean to say it. Knowing Midoriya, he didn’t, but Shouta is grateful for the boy’s muttering right now.
“Fuck them,” Shouta says, smiling when the boy looks at him with a bewildered expression.
“W-what?”
“They don’t matter,” Shouta says, because god damn that’s what this boy needs to hear. “ You matter, kid, and we notice when you’re upset.”
“Why?” He looks at Shouta warily, and Shouta decides that his reputation can jump off a cliff as he responds truthfully.
“Because we care about you,” Shouta states. “And you matter, and your feelings matter, and that’s why we’re going to notice.”
Midoriya tears up at that, and a part of Shouta notices how the boy’s shoulder flashes through the shirt, but that part is ignored as the boy latches onto him, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you,” Midoriya whispers shakily, breath hitching with unshed tears, and Shouta lets himself smile.
And he says, “There’s nothing to thank me for, kid.”
Because there isn’t, not in Shouta’s mind.
And one day, Midoriya will understand that.