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Perhaps it was strange. Perhaps it was wrong. Actually “perhaps” didn’t belong in those statements. It was strange. It was wrong. It is a lot of things. Izuku didn’t care, it is what it is, and that was enough for him.
Izuku Midoriya liked roofs. It found them relaxing and peaceful. He found them grounding. Perhaps he should have been afraid. Perhaps there should be left over trauma from being told to jump off of one more times than he can count. Perhaps there was.
Maybe Izuku liked roofs because he felt in control. Maybe it was because four years ago, he chose not to jump. Maybe he liked knowing the choice was there. Whatever it was, Izuku liked them.
Currently the young man was on the roof of the dorms. The building he had called home for the last three years. He was laying down on a blanket, All Might themed of course, and watched the sky. The few stars still visible, the planes and helicopters making their way, and listening to the night animals. Yes, the roof was quite peaceful. It allowed Izuku to think. To think about- The greenette was brought out of his thoughts when a dark figure dropped next to him.
“What are you doing up here, problem child?” the gruff voice of his teacher asked.
“Same as always Aizawa-Sensei, thinking.”
“You ever gonna tell what you’re thinking about?”
Izuku paused. He knew his teacher was worried about his mental health. It wasn’t normal to find your student on the roof at night more often than not. It wasn’t normal for your “always bright and happy” student to not smile, to be on a roof at all. But it wasn’t like that. At least not for a long time.
“I’ve told you before Sensei, it always changes. But I guess I can let you know today’s thoughts.” The young man laughed quietly to himself. “You may want to sit Sensei, it’s more comfortable, and I’m known to ramble.” Aizawa did, in fact, sit down.
“So what is it, problem child?”
“I liked roofs.” Izuku almost expected Aizawa to respond sarcastically. He didn’t, so Izuku went on. “I was trying to find out why.” Again there was another pause.
“Did you figure it out?”
“Nope. At least, not one answer. I think there’s a lot that goes into it. No one else comes up here, for one. I’m alone.” Izuku remembered the time before gaining a quirk. He was always alone then, and never had to hide anything. UA changed that, for better or worse. “I don’t have to be Deku. I can just be, me. Whoever that is. I can be happy, or sad. I can be forgiving, or angry. I get to feel my emotions when I’m on roofs.
“It’s also peaceful up here. Sure pollution is taking away the stars, but the lights I get to see, motivate me. Did you know that back when you could see millions of stars, people believed that when someone died, they became a star? That they would always be watching over you? I always wondered, that if that’s true, who watches over them? Most people nowadays don’t even know stars are a thing. They think it's a plane or something. I figured forgotten things shouldn’t be forgotten. So before they become invisible, I vow to watch over them. That probably doesn’t make any sense, sorry Sensei. I think I just related to them when I was younger.”
“Don’t be sorry. I understand.”
Neither one spoke for minutes, thoughts filling their mind. Aizawa wanted to know why his problem child felt forgotten. Izuku looked at the stars and wondered what else he should say. What else he could say.
“The day I met All Might, roofs were a big part of it.”
“Do I get any explanation, or is that it?”
“That’s it. For now, at least.”
A peaceful silence settled over to two. They said what they said, and nothing else needed to be forced out. Every time Aizawa caught Izuku on the roof this happened. They talked or they didn’t. But they always sat together in silence until Izuku decided it was time to go back into the building.
Izuku was sure it was for Aizawa’s sanity because Izuku wasn’t always forthcoming about his reasons for being up there. Oh well, the young man didn’t mind. It was nice actually. To have good memories on a roof with another human. Before Aizawa that wasn’t a thing. He’d had to make up his own good memories, enough to not fall anyway.
It was a while before they said goodnight and parted ways.
“CAN I GET A YAAAEEH!?” Present Mic asked upon entering the room.
“No.” Shinsou responded deadpanned. Izuku giggled at his friend. He was so glad Shinsou was transferred into class A last year. It gave Izuku someone he could relate to in a way most other classmates couldn’t.
“Thank you Shindig, but that was not the answer I was looking for!” The English teacher carried on. “Today, you will be writing letters to your younger selves. You will be giving them advice and motivation you wish you had.” Aoyama raised his hand. “Yes, these will be entirely in English and graded as such.” Aoyama lowered his hand. “Get out your papers and start!”
The class moved and got started on their work. Some people preferred to work alone and others talked to their friends to get an idea of what to write. Izuku knew what he wanted to write, and the exact day he would write to, he just didn’t know how he would write it.
He sighed to himself, “I guess I’ll just let my pencil choose the words.”
When Shouta Aizawa entered the teachers’ lounge he did not expect to see his best friend and husband sobbing over a piece of paper.
“Hizashi? What’s wrong?” His husband just shook his head unable to speak. Shouta looked again at his husband and what he was doing. There were papers surrounding him- a class assignment, Shouta guessed.
Hizashi was a sentimental man, and he was far past the point in his life of being embarrassed about it. When he had something to mourn, he mourned. And since becoming a teacher, he’d begun to mourn for the things his students had gone through. Shouta sighed softly, sat down next to his husband, and wrapped an arm around him.
The blonde set the paper down on the table and turned into Shouta, sobbing a little bit harder. Shouta had seen Hizashi cry over students before, but rarely had it gotten to this level. Shouta was sure whatever this student was going through was more than just “I’m sad” or “I had an argument.” He just hoped it wasn’t any of his children that caused this.
When the blonde calmed down he looked up at Shouta and sniffed. “Sorry, I uh, sorry.”
“It’s okay Zashi. Was it an assignment?” The blonde nodded quietly and wiped his eyes.
“I know typically we keep students’ situations confidential, but I think you should read this. It’s-”
“It’s one of my students then.” The blonde nodded again. Shouta leaned forward and grabbed the paper.
To Izuku Midoriya on the craziest day of our life,
Of course it was the problem child. Shouta looked to his husband.
“The assignment was to give advice to their younger selves. Advice and motivation they wish they’d had.” The dark haired man nodded and began reading.
To Izuku Midoriya on the craziest day of our life,
Right now, I imagine you reading this right after our first conversation with All Might. Yes, that part of the day. We had received a red spider lily earlier that day, almost died, had our dreams crushed, and been stranded on that roof.
With all things considered, it wouldn’t have been abnormal or weird if I didn’t make it to today. But I did. And you will too. I know the thoughts running through your head right now. I know the arguments you’ve heard and the counterarguments you’ve created.
You were strong enough that day to make the choice all by yourself. You were able to say no. But I know that we wished for someone else to be on our side. No one else was. But I’ll say it now.
Don’t do it.
Up until now, you’ve had no encouragement. At least no positive encouragement. You’ve been told to die, give up, to kill yourself. Don’t do it. You are smart. You are kind. You are heroic.
When you get off of that roof, you will start walking home and end up saving a life. You will be given a wonderful opportunity. You will go to UA and find friends. You will get to truly live again. You’ll finally learn what a good teacher is.
I am graduating in a few weeks, and after that, I’ll be a full fledged hero. I want to thank you for having the strength to keep going. I want to thank you for moving on. Thank you for continuing to smile.
I want you to know that the wonderful opportunity we were given is not the only reason you have worth. You had worth your entire life. You have worth now. The world is not perfect, and we forgave them of that. We are working towards fixing it. We’ve come a long way.
Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you. What I wish someone had told me. Don’t do it, keep moving forward.
From Izuku Midoriya, who survived to tell you this message.
“Darn it, problem child.” Shouta said with emotion thick in his voice.
“Yeah.” Hizashi said quietly. “I don’t- I don’t know how we didn’t. He’s so strong and he doesn’t- I can’t imagine him not being here.” Shouta thought back to all the nights he found the problem child on the roof, and all the other nights he convinced himself he was paranoid.
“I’ve found him on the roof, a lot actually. He-” Shouta cleared his throat. “He didn’t seem like he would jump but I always stayed, just in case. I thought I was paranoid, but seeing this.”
The couple sat together, quiet, wondering about where to go from here.
Izuku was once again on the roof. He had one of his notebooks this time- more of a journal than a notebook. He was feeling nostalgic and wanted to write more of his journey down. Maybe it was foolish when he was younger, but Izuku always had the hope of some little kid wanting to read his autobiography, or any biography of him. So he wrote his story.
Tonight’s entry was about the last few weeks of UA, the last few weeks before his career starts. The last few weeks before he has to become the symbol of peace for everyone.
Izuku laughed softly to himself as he flipped through the book. He’d started this book at the beginning of the school year, and looking back, he had a crazy life. One day when he made a real autobiography, any kid that read it certainly wouldn’t be bored. There were so many plot twists it was almost like he was the main character in a manga or anime.
“You know, you can come out, Aizawa-Sensei. I know you’re here, and you’ve never hidden before.”
“You haven’t come out here for a while,” his teacher said. “Why tonight?”
“I wanted to think. I wanted to write too.”
“Write what?” Izuku sighed. His teacher hadn’t been the same for a while and Izuku had a suspicion as to why.
“Sensei, I’m not writing a suicide note. Nor will I be jumping off any roofs or killing myself through any other means.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to.” Aizawa sat down next to his student and waited. He knew his student would talk to him. Neither one said it, but both knew nothing would need to be forced tonight.
“I know you read my English assignment, the one were we wrote advice and motivation to our younger selves.”
“I did.”
“It was four years ago, the day I wrote to.”
“Four years isn’t really a long time.”
“It is when you decided it is. Besides I didn’t want to jump back then, and I don’t want to jump now.”
“So why did you have to write it?”
“Because no one’s said it before. No one had told me that. Before UA I was very alone and ridiculed almost everyday for years. Everything changed that summer before UA started. I had someone support me. And at UA I had a new life. No one knew I needed to hear it. I just needed to say it. I needed to tell myself that I had worth before and after All Might came into my life.”
“If you have any thoughts like that, you call me. Day or night. If you need any reminder, ever, you can come to me.”
“I know. Did you know, you are the best teacher I’ve ever had. You treated me like you treated all my classmates.”
“That shouldn’t be the bar.”
“But it was, and you only got better as you continued to teach and care about all of us. I want to thank you. You never had to say it in words, but it was really because of you that I learned more about my self worth. A lot of people may think it was All Might and, sure he was a big help, but it was really you.”
The teacher and student stayed silent. Izuku was writing and Aizawa was thinking. It was peaceful, just like the last time they’d been on this roof.
“Thank you, problem child.”