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Shouta is looking--searching, scanning --for green. Green hair. Green eyes. (Red shoes.)
Where is he!?
The man’s ears strain to hear that now-familiar analytical voice that drove him mad when he first heard it. The fighting has stopped. The students are safe. ( Most of the students are safe.)
“Midoriya!” He calls out hopelessly as the crowd of civilians drown him out with their fear. He had to be there somewhere. Midoriya wasn’t the type to just wander off.
Shouta tries to ignore the dread that had decided to make a home in his chest ( what happened to the kid this time? Was he going to be okay? ) and pushes past a family of five--six counting their dog--as he heads over to a hero merch store. They’d already been there earlier that day, but maybe the boy had seen something he hadn’t earlier and decided to go and buy it?
“Hey! Sir, uh, I don’t know your name!” It’s the employee that helped Midoriya with his bags. He’s standing just inside the store. “You’re a hero, right? Is everything okay?”
No matter how often he goes out with his class from hell, Shouta will never get used to random people knowing he’s a hero. It’s not hard to figure out how people know he is. After all, he teaches at UA, a school that prides itself on having an entirely heroic faculty. And he’s been seen with the most popular hero class to ever exist (much to his despair).
“Yeah, I am,” Shouta assured. “And there were just a few villains making a scene in the food court. We’ve taken care of it.”
“Oh. That’s good” The employee sighs. Then frowns. “But the food court’s kinda far away. What are you doing back here?”
“I’m looking for one of my students. The one who paid your salary this week.”
A good-natured laugh escapes the other’s throat and they nod. “Yeah, that was a lot of merch. Kinda seemed like he’d been saving up, huh? Sorry, but I haven’t seen him.”
Shouta thanks them for their time and moves on. He has to find Midoriya.
Luckily, he does. All it takes is a glance. One peek down a dark hallway (one he would’ve overlooked) and he feels the dread lessen ever-so-slightly.
Midoriya is crouched next to the left wall (it almost looks like he’s hiding ) his head low so his green curls cover his face. He has his arms wrapped around . . . something. Shouta takes a step closer and realizes his student is shaking.
“Midoriya?” Shouta would ask if he’s okay, but as soon as the name leaves his lips, the boy’s head pops up and-
Oh, no.
Oh, hell no!
“Sensei! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do!” The greenette carefully adjusts his hold and rises by pushing his back against the wall and sliding up. Midoriya glances around nervously before leaving the dark corridor. “You can help, right?”
Shouta gazes into those hopeful eyes--ones which seemed to think he could do anything--and back at what the teen was carrying.
Or rather who the teen was carrying.
“Why are there two of you?”
“This one’s six.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”