Chapter Text
It’s well into the evening and Shouta is still chained to his desk. He hasn’t left the teacher’s lounge since this afternoon, right after he raced into Nedzu’s office and relayed everything that he had just learned regarding Aldera Junior High.
The rodent was just as horrified as he had been, and was clearly excited about the opportunity to release his team of lawyers and wreak havoc on a corrupt institution. But, there was one caveat.
“We’ll need proof of cause before we can get a permit,” Nedzu had said. “Even if what Midoriya says is true, going off suspicion and the verbal accusations of one child won’t stand up in court. Find me some hard evidence, Shouta, then we can move forward.”
So that’s what Shouta had set out to do. Forgoing the rest of Touring Day, he’s been at this for hours now. He’s combed through not only Midoriya’s files, but Bakugou’s and a few other past U.A. students who had graduated from Aldera, looking for just one shred of something being off about the files enough to instigate enough grounds for an investigative permit.
He found what he was looking for just around the time Yagi came in.
“Took you long enough,” Shouta says in way of greeting. He had been expecting the other teacher to find him immediately after returning Midoriya to the dorms.
The blond let out a wearied sigh as he sinks into a seat on the couch. “Sorry for being pulled ten different ways all afternoon,” he deadpans. “You have no idea how excitable three hundred middle schoolers are.”
Because posing for selfies with kids is such a hardship. Shouta wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t exactly blame the other man for being so tired. Dealing with any kind of publicity, whether it be professional or not, was exhausting. It’s the reason Shouta hates being put in front of a camera.
He gets up from his desk and stuffs the files under one arm, then reaches into the bottom drawer and grabs the bottle of whiskey Hizashi gave him last Christmas. The DJ joked it was for emergencies, but getting confirmation that your Problem Child was psychologically and physically abused by his former teachers seemed as good as a time as ever.
Besides, he didn’t exactly expect this conversation to go over easily. Shouta was good at keeping a handle on his emotions. Toshinori was not.
The blond blinks at the glass of whiskey Shouta extends toward him. “What’s that for?”
“You’re gonna need it.”
Yagi looks at him dubiously. “You know I can’t drink that, Aizawa.”
Shouta shrugs then knocks it back himself. He welcomes the burn in his throat—anything to quell the absolute rage that keeps churning in his stomach.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
He slumps into the chair across from the couch and sets the files down on the coffee table, settling his hands in his lap. “You knew Midoriya before U.A., right?” The blond nods. “What did you know about his school life?”
Yagi’s brow furrows as he thinks. “…To be honest, not much. I knew he wasn’t in very many clubs. He dedicated most of his free time after school into training for the entrance exam. But Midoriya didn’t seem bothered by that. He seemed thrilled to devote his time toward training.”
“Did he ever have a bad day at school? Ever tell you anything about his assignments, his teachers, anything that actually happened inside that building?”
Yagi shrugs, this time looking a little guilty. “I assumed most of his days were uneventful. Midoriya’s a good kid, smart in school and kind with his peers. I can’t imagine that he had too many bad days. Although…” The blond’s expression begins to drops into something more serious. “After today, I suspect you’re about to tell me something to the contrary.”
Shouta sighs, not surprised in the slightest. He normally wouldn’t discuss such a sensitive matter about one of his students to another faculty member, but Yagi wasn’t just another teacher. The kid practically worshiped All Might, and Shouta knew that admiration went both ways. It wasn’t hard to see that Yagi cared for Midoriya more deeply than Shouta could understand. He could help the kid in ways that Shouta couldn’t.
Midoriya was only just starting to trust him, but he’d trusted All Might since the very beginning.
Here goes nothing.
He recounts what happened today—from Shinsou tugging at his sleeve and saying something’s wrong, to slowly coaxing Midoriya out of that bathroom stall to treat his bloody hands, to the kid’s hysterical slip of admitting hiding bruises from his mother. As he speaks, Yagi’s spine gets stiffer and stiffer, his face staying carefully blank until Shouta is certain the man has been replaced by a perfect statue replica of a blond skeleton.
“…and that’s when you came in,” Shouta finishes. “After that, I went to Nedzu—”
“Aizawa,” Yagi’s voice is pitched low and cold. His eyes are like tiny blue stars bursting into supernovas, fierce and blazing. “Are you telling me that you let that teacher leave campus?”
And this was the part of the conversation that Shouta was dreading. He sits up, straightening out of his slump to go head-to-head with the Symbol of Peace. “Yes.”
“Why in God’s name would you knowingly let that piece of scum walk away?!”
Shouta grits his teeth against the raised tone, forcing himself to remain calm. “What would you have me do, Yagi? Arrest him? On what grounds? The man is a civilian, not a villain.”
“You could have made a citizen’s arrest and held him with Midoriya’s testimony!” Yagi’s leg is bouncing, practically overflowing with restless energy. He looks three seconds away from jumping off the couch and bounding through the streets of the city until he finds Suga and drags the man to jail himself.
Shouta exhales through his nose and relays the facts. “Midoriya is a minor. Legally, his word won’t be taken as evidence in court without the backing of legal counsel. Not to mention a judge would probably get a social worker involved because he was hiding injuries from his mother, which gives the court the potential to open up a child neglect case against her.” Yagi cringes at that. “I don’t know enough about his home life to push for that kind of decision.”
It makes sense that Yagi would think this way. All Might had been the Number One hero; he was used to busting into the scene, punching the bad guy and leaping away into the sunset. He took immediate action and got immediate results.
He didn’t have to be involved in the nitty-gritty side of hero work; the kind that involved cases with long nights waiting on rooftops, silent as a shadow, watching as innocent civilians were hurt in ways that made Shouta want to vomit. Being unable to jump in, forced to watch and wait carefully for just the right moment. Learning to pushing down feelings and compartmentalizing them in the back of his mind in a box that he’d never have to open.
“Negotiating with someone who has been psychologically abused is an extremely delicate process. Especially children,” he continues gently. “You can’t force them to tell you things about their trauma. You have to wait until they’re ready to talk about it.”
It’s a hard pill to swallow as a hero. You’re trained to fight and fix the problem for those who are hurting. But if you can’t fix a problem for someone if they aren’t ready for it. Shouta has had to learn that lesson intimately through helping Eri.
Yagi deflates, sinking his lanky frame further into the couch. He brings a skeletal hand to cover half his face, “I just don’t understand why he didn’t feel comfortable coming to me.” The retired hero’s voice is small and wounded, all energy now completely drained from him.
“I actually think that’s part of the problem,” Shouta admits. “I don’t think Midoriya is comfortable coming to anyone with this. The only reason I found out was because he was hysterical. This leads me to believe there’s much more to this than just one bad teacher.”
He reaches for the stack of papers on the table and starts sorting through it. “As I was saying before you interrupted me, I went to Nedzu about opening a potential child endangerment case, but unfortunately, we can’t file for any legal permits unless we have probable cause.”
Yagi’s face darkens. “A victim’s confession isn’t probable cause?”
Shouta sighs, “You know how the legal system works. It has to be in writing, otherwise, it’s just hearsay. And I get the feeling Midoriya would clam up the instant we put him in front of a lawyer.”
That kid was too smart for his own good. Too kind for what those bastards at Aldera deserved. Midoriya had straight up asked him to let this go—to do nothing that could endanger his old teacher’s wellbeing. (As if he would had said yes. As if Shouta could ever let anything with his Problem Child go.)
“You’re probably right.” Yagi’s face is pinched with guilt. He looks absolutely miserable. “I just can’t believe I didn’t notice any of that was happening. I knew him for a whole year before U.A. This could have been happening right under my nose and I didn’t even think to—”
Shouta cuts him off with a raised hand before he can get too far into his downward spiral. “Don’t beat yourself up about it too much. I didn’t notice, either. And think about it: did either of us have a reason to look for signs of abuse?” The blond shakes his head. “Exactly. I think I’m safe in assuming that somewhere along the lines, someone taught Midoriya to hide all of this.”
His brain supplies the unsaid or else, and he wonders what those teachers could have threatened him with. Expulsion? Physical mistreatment? Even just thinking about it sends his blood pressure skyrocketing. Erasure activates as a response to the sudden pickup in his heart rate. Shouta rubs his eyes, forcing himself to calm down enough to regain control of the damn Quirk.
“You said you suspect this went deeper than just one teacher?”
Shouta scrubs a hand down his face. “I believe the entire school is corrupt. Here, look at this.” He passes one of the files he had printed out to the blond. “This is the file from Bakugou’s Quirk counseling. Midoriya obviously wouldn’t have one, so I—”
Yagi coughs so hard his entire body shudders, blood spewing all over the file. “What d’you mean, obviously?”
Shouta doesn’t even blink. “He told me he didn’t have a Quirk in middle school.”
“He told you that?!” The retired hero looks absolutely gobsmacked. His eyes are so wide, for once the white is visible.
“He said he was a late bloomer.” Yagi’s entire posture relaxes, like a taunt string being cut, and Shouta’s eyes narrow. “Unless he lied to me, and you know something I don’t.”
He stares at his coworker as hard as he can, trying to determine if there truly was a secret being kept. Shouta doesn’t have any idea of what that secret could be—Quirks just didn’t appear out of thin air, so obviously Midoriya’s Quirk had to come in late. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have one at all. But the way Yagi reacted just now makes it seem like there is something else going on here.
Not for the first time, Shouta feels as though the last piece of Midoriya’s puzzle is being dangled right in front of him, but expertly held just out of his reach.
Eraser Head is known for his top-notch intimidation tactics to get information out of criminals. The problem now is that this isn’t a criminal; this is Yagi, his coworker-slash-hero-associate-slash-kind-of-friend who just so happens to be All Might. The blond may be retired, repurposed into a bumbling teacher, but the fierce hero is still there, present just under the surface.
So when Shouta stares, Yagi meets his gaze head-on, relentless.
It becomes apparent that this tactic is a lost cause. Getting secrets out of Midoriya was hard; getting secrets about Midoriya out of Yagi was impossible. What a pair they made. Shouta sighs, looking away and pointing back to the files.
“As I was saying, since Midoriya was essentially Quirkless, there was no need to send him to Quirk counseling, but Bakugou went. Allegedly.” Yagi’s eyes flicker down to the file, and a frown appears on his face as he reads. “It’s a requirement by federal law that all Quirked children in elementary and middle school go to see a Quirk counselor at least once a semester, more so if they have difficulty controlling their power. But Bakugou only went once each year.”
“’Bakugou Katsuki has flawless Quirk control and exemplary passion,’” Yagi reads aloud. “'He is a model student and has the potential and drive to become a superb hero.’”
“Flawless Quirk control,” Shouta echoes. “No middle schooler has flawless Quirk control. No one is born with perfect control of their power, especially not children. Bakugou is talented, yes, but he’s not flawless. That assessment isn’t real.”
The blond raises an eyebrow. “You think they tampered with his counseling records?”
“No,” Shouta says honestly, “I don’t think they sent him through counseling at all.” Yagi’s brow lowers in disbelief, but Shouta isn’t budging—he’s got a theory, and he’s itching to get it out. “Bakugou’s mother told us people were always praising Katsuki for being perfect. If you were ignorant enough to think one of your students was perfect at everything, you wouldn’t put any time or effort into actually educating them. The kid would never learn how to accept critique or understand how to emotionally deal with failure. If this school thought Bakugou was a model student because of his Quirk, they wouldn’t find any need to push him to develop himself more than he did on his own.”
Understanding dawns on Yagi’s face. “They ignored him because they thought he didn’t need their help.”
“They told Bakugou he was perfect and ignored any routes they could have used to further develop him, and they told Midoriya he was imperfect and went out of their way to beat him down.” Shouta leans back and crosses his arms, feeling the satisfaction thrum through him. “To me, that doesn’t sound like a healthy atmosphere for educating children at all.”
Slumping down and resting his elbows on his knees, Yagi lets out a deep sigh. “You were right, Shouta. I should have taken that drink.” He shakes his head and seems to sober up. “So what do we do now?”
“Before we do anything, I’ll need to confirm with Bakugou that he never went to Quirk counseling. If we have grounds to believe that the school is forging legal documents, we can get a warrant for their records. I have the suspicion that once we start digging, the whole institution will unravel itself.”
Shouta pauses, mulling over his next thought. “I want to do this in a way that keeps the kids out of this as much as possible. I don’t want to force either of them through more trauma than they might already be dealing with. And I sure as hell don’t want the Problem Child trying to tamper with an ongoing investigation.”
Yagi’s eyebrows arch up in skepticism. “You really think he’d do that?”
“He already tried.”
The retired hero’s eyes widen in realization, “That’s what he meant when he asked you not to cause any trouble.” Shouta nods. “You don’t think he’d actually lie to protect that teacher, do you?”
“Children will lie about anything if they don’t feel safe, so we have to make that our job now.” Shouta says this with a deeper conviction than he’s felt in a long while. “To make Midoriya feel safe.”
~
If there’s one thing Shouta knows, it’s that investigations are never black and white. Someone is always convinced they’re making the right choice when they’re really making the wrong one. Human beings are messy and always seem to act on their own convictions.
Midoriya doesn’t speak during class at all the next day. He barely looks up from his desk, avoiding making any sort of eye contact with him in the classroom. It’s been raining all day, and with the end of the downpour nowhere in sight, they have to move their afternoon drills inside. It’s a bit harder to avoid Midoriya inside a much smaller gym, but Shouta still tries to give him the space that he needs.
And really, Shouta gets it. The kid is probably embarrassed, still riding the emotional shockwaves that shook him to the core yesterday. He feels a little guilty himself, not realizing that one of his students was carrying the weight of something so substantial right under his nose. He wants to apologize to the kid, but is well aware that bringing up everything when the wound was so fresh could potentially hurt Midoriya more than help him. So, he stays quiet and lets the kid be.
Shouta should have known by now that taking his eyes off his Problem Child even for a day was a mistake.
In retrospect, he should have seen the signs of something wrong. Should have picked up on the way Midoriya’s kicks were clumsier than normal, how his reaction time was a little slower, how the kid just generally seemed a little bit out of it. Shouta gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming it was because his mind was elsewhere and unwilling to snap at him to get it together in case it frighted the kid off even more.
Classes end and Shouta heads back to the faculty dorms, intent on busying himself with grading so he doesn’t have to think about the underlying anger and guilt that still thrums just under his skin. He stays that way, holed up in his room for the evening, the howl of the wind and rain beating down against his window.
When the time hits just after midnight and he’s about to head to bed, he gets an alert from one of the security bots on his phone.
“Hey, Eraser,” the tinny robotic voice calls over the speaker, “one of your students is breaking curfew again.”
Annoyance makes his eyebrow twitch. In the middle of this storm? Kaminari better not be trying to catch lightning bolts again. He was going to give that kid detention for a year. “Who is it?”
“Midoriya, up on the roof,” and Shouta doesn’t wait for the rest of that sentence. He moves. Sprinting faster than he has in a long time, he makes it out of his room and up the stairs in less than a minute, kicking down the access door and skidding out into the pouring rain.
Heart in his throat, he instantly spots the kid. Midoriya was perched on the ledge of the room, his legs were dangling off the side, leaning back onto his palms with his head tilted up toward the sky. He’s as still as a statue. It sends Shouta’s skin crawling.
“Midoriya!”
Lightning flashes, illuminating the kid’s face when he turns. He’s expecting a flinch. Instead, the dimness in those green eyes is so much worse. “Oh. Hey, Sensei.” His voice is barely audible above the pouring rain.
He makes no move to get up, and Shouta stands perfectly still, fighting with himself. Everything in him wants to dash forward and yank the kid back, but his hero training won’t let him. He knows how to talk people down from this. He’s done it a million times. He’s just never thought he’d have to do this with one of his kids.
“It’s pouring out here, kid.” He compels his voice to be as even as it can without it breaking. He inches forward with surgical precision, barely taking a step, forcing himself to do this slowly.
Midoriya only frowns a little in response, tilting his head back up to the sky. Childishly, he kicks his legs out as if he was on the edge of a lake dock and not half dangling off a roof in the middle of a fucking monsoon.
How slick was that ledge? If Midoriya startled because of a thunderclap, would he slip right off, right out of Shouta’s grasp? In his haste, he hadn’t even grabbed his capture weapon.
Keep him focused on you, his brain supplies. The words fall out of Shouta’s mouth before he can really process what he’s saying. “Come on, Problem Child. You’re gonna catch a cold if you stay out here.” He takes another slow step forward, but he’s still not close enough. His fingers itch at his sides. “Why don’t we go inside and I’ll make you some tea.”
The rain is drenching both of them now, and Shouta lies to himself and says the reason he’s shaking is because of the cold.
“Why did I do it?”
Shouta nearly freezes on the spot at that. He’s almost five feet away from the kid now, just barely outside of grasping range. “Do what?”
“Open my mouth,” Midoriya says, and Shouta feels a fissure open up in his chest. “If I hadn’t—” The kid’s face twists, tears now mingling with the rain on his face, “if I hadn’t said anything, things would have stayed the same. I wouldn’t have worried you or anybody else. But I just—I wanted somebody to know, and I feel so selfish and guilty for wanting that. It just slipped out, and now I’m causing everybody more trouble than I’m worth.”
Shouta thinks, Fuck it, and lunges forward. He seizes Midoriya around the waist and throws them both back onto the gravely roof. Shouta takes the brunt of the fall, keeping the kid’s back pressed against his chest. Despite being still moments ago, Midoriya is suddenly twisting and writhing like an eel in his arms, making a desperate effort to free himself. Shouta doesn’t let him, still haunted by the image of his student near the ledge.
“Leave me alone!” Midoriya screams at him. “I- I didn’t ask for your pity! I don’t need you to pretend like you care.”
Shouta grunts when a well-aimed elbow jabs in the space between his ribs. His arms loosen just enough for Midoriya to wrench himself away. Their legs are still tangled together, so the kid twists to face him, green eyes bright with tears.
“Just tell me what you want,” he cries, frantic and desperate.
High off adrenaline, Shouta’s patience snaps. “Goddamn it, Izuku! I don’t pity you. I care about you. You’re my student and I want to help you, but I can’t do a damn thing if you keep shutting me out!”
Midoriya’s chest is heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. He stares at Shouta in disbelief, in confusion, as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Shouta doesn’t allow him a moment to think, needing this to get through to the kid’s head.
He takes his student’s face in his hands, “You matter. Your pain matters. Your life is valued more than just your Quirk. There are people here who love and cherish you; people who want to help you. You don’t need to isolate yourself. You aren’t alone in this.”
Midoriya lets out a little punched-out noise and goes to curl in on himself; Shouta grasps the back of his neck and guides him to rest his forehead against Shouta’s shoulder. For the second time that week, they sit tangled together on the ground, and Shouta holds his Problem Child as he cries.
Shouta doesn’t know if it’s the residual adrenaline in his system or the fact that he needs to calm himself more than the kid, but he starts muttering a litany of “I’m here, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe,” against Midoriya’s wet hair. He has no idea if the kid can hear him past the roar of the rain. Shouta can see the steam rising off of him as the chill of the rain sinks into their skin. There’s a clap of thunder, and it makes Midoriya jolt. Shouta presses him impossibly closer.
Midoriya cries himself out and goes completely boneless in his arms, his frame shuddering from the cold. How long had the kid been out here on his own before he’d got to him?
Shouta shifts, nudging the kid to lean back. Midoriya blinks blearily at him through bloodshot eyes. He’s soaked to the bone, his thin All Might-themed pajamas stick to him like a second skin. His teeth are chattering, and despite that his face is pale, there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, one that could be associated with the cold—or a fever.
It clicks together then, why Midoriya had seemed off today. The kid had made himself sick. Shouta wants to kick himself for not noticing it sooner. Midoriya was probably delirious right now, and knowing his luck, he’d catch pneumonia if he stayed out in this weather any longer.
Midoriya is perfectly complacent, allowing Shouta to maneuver him into his arms and stand. The part of him on edge finally relaxes when they exit the roof and head back down the stairwell, carrying Izuku like a much younger child.
See, Shouta tells his treacherous heart, still beating wildly in his chest, He’s fine. No need to worry. I’ve got him.
When he gets to the landing of Midoriya’s floor, the door opens before he can even reach for the knob, revealing a pajama-clad and sleep-tousled Iida.
The class rep snaps into full awareness at the sight of him. “Sir! I thought I heard this stairwell’s alarm go off and because it’s past curfew and I was going to—” His eyes drift down. Expression instantly clearing of all its usual tenacity, Tenya’s voice is much softer when he says, “Midoriya?”
Shouta can only guess what kind of picture they make. Both of them are dripping water as though they’d been dumped into a lake.
Izuku turns his head, as if only just realizing his classmate is there. Shouta feels him shift, and he gently helps the kid get down to his feet. Midoriya ducks his head and sways forward, planting his forehead directly onto Iida’s collarbone. Despite still looking shell-shocked, Iida automatically wraps one of his arms around the smaller boy’s shaking shoulders.
Shouta sighs. “Get him into something dry and check to see if he has a fever. I want both of you in bed in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Sensei.” Iida doesn’t ask him any more questions, immediately turning his attention to his friend. He was a good kid.
Shouta trusts that he’ll be able to handle getting Midoriya into bed safely. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep before he has to get up in the morning.
~
Waking up at 5 a.m. after that hellish night was a cruel punishment from God. Shouta’s brain feels as though it has been rattled around his skull all night. It doesn’t help that Iida finds him in the kitchen before he can even make a pot of coffee. Apparently, Midoriya’s fever has raged through the night, running high and unbroken with a vengeance.
Somehow, Yagi is already at the kid’s bedside by the time Shouta gets up there. The man has a sixth sense for when things were wrong with Midoriya. He’s pulled the desk chair over to the side of the bed, hovering like a nervous mother with a sick newborn.
Midoriya looks like death warmed over. His face and neck are splotchy where his pale skin has flushed, and the kid is absolutely drenched in sweat. The grey sweatshirt Iida must have pulled over him is practically glued to him. Blankets are half kicked on the floor, and Shouta’s tired brain almost makes him trip on one of them when he walks in. When he gets closer, he can see Midoriya’s eyes flicker beneath closed lids in restless sleep.
“Should we call Chiyo?” Yagi asks, touching the back of his hand to Midoriya’s forehead. “He feels like he’s on fire.”
“No,” Shouta says, because he knows exactly what this is: a psychogenic fever. “Iida, go get some ice packs and washcloths.” The class rep dashes off, leaving the two teachers alone. “Extreme cases of psychological distress can trigger your body to try to burn out whatever it perceives is hurting you. Because there’s no physical virus causing this, Chiyo’s Quirk won’t work. Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do but wait this out. That’s what I had to do with Eri.”
Yagi doesn’t seem satisfied by that at all. Shouta gets it—helplessly watching Eri as her little body tried to destroy itself from the inside out had nearly killed him. It's hard to sit back and do nothing when your kid was in pain.
Midoriya tosses his head to the side and lets out a noise as if he’d been punched. Yagi leans forward and brushes away some of the damp curls stuck to his forehead. Miraculously, the kid’s eyes snap open, wide and fever bright.
“Young Midoriya?” Yagi asks, hesitantly optimistic. “Are you with us, my boy?”
Midoriya blinks rapidly, gaze hazy and unseeing. He’s shivering so violently that his teeth are chattering again. “Pl-please—” The kid sucks in a sharp breath, choking on a sob. “Please stop.”
Yagi freezes; Shouta feels his stomach drop through the floor. “Please, don’t,” the kid whimpers again, all of it coming out in a frantic rush, “I- I didn’t mean to, I’m so-sorry, I can do better, please—”
Yagi’s face crumples. He moves closer, curling his large hands around the kid’s freckled cheeks and pressing his forehead to Midoriya’s fevered one. “Shhh, no, Izuku, my boy, my precious boy, you’re fine, I am here, you’re safe…”
Iida arrives back then, hovering in the doorway and catching Shuota’s attention with a hushed, “Sensei!” Shouta slips over to him, grateful for the distraction and willing to give Yagi a second of privacy. Iida, ever overprepared, delivers a bundle of towels, three chilled water bottles, some over-the-counter fever reducers and a few ice packs.
“Go tell Mic he’s filling in for Heroics today,” Shouta tells him. “He should be in the broadcast station.” He sincerely doubts Yagi will be ripped away from Midoriya’s side for anything less than the building catching on fire.
Iida nods. “I will. Also, I took the liberty of starting a pot of coffee downstairs for you. I apologize that I pulled you away from doing that, but I believed Midoriya’s distress was more important.”
God, why can’t all his kids be like Tenya? Shouta shoots him a little smile. “No apology necessary. You did the right thing.”
He doesn’t miss the way Iida’s gaze drifts over his shoulder to look at his friend. “Is…is Midoriya going to be alright?” He sounds so painfully uncertain, and so, so young.
It’s no secret that he and Midoriya are close; Shouta’s actually surprised Uraraka and Todoroki haven’t darkened this doorway yet. The four of them are practically inseparable outside of class, even more so when one of them gets hurt.
He tilts his head and wonders if Midoriya ever told Iida about Aldera. Kids shared more secrets with each other than they did with adults. But no, Iida wouldn’t have known. If he did, he would have come to Shouta immediately. His duty to do right by his classmates would have outweighed the potential backlash of betraying one of his friend’s trust.
“He’ll be fine,” Shouta reassures him. “You can come to check on him later today. He might be awake by then.”
Tenya nods and gives a little bow, then disappears back into the corridor. Shouta closes the door behind him to keep any other waking students from wandering in. He places most of what Iida brought on the desk, then goes digging through Midoriya’s drawers to find a clean shirt. He steps back over to the bed, grabs a towel, then nudges Yagi aside.
Understanding his intentions, Yagi gently coxes the kid into a sitting position. The blond hovers at the edge of the bed and mutters soft things to him in English as Shouta pulls the damp sweatshirt over his head and quickly towels off the sweat from his body. Midoriya looks like he’s barely clinging to consciousness, seemingly content to be manhandled. It’s only when Shouta goes to put the other shirt on him does it cause problems.
Maybe it’s because Shouta moves too fast, or maybe it’s because all Midoriya can register is a dark figure looming near him. Either way, the kid snaps into sudden awareness. He slaps Shouta’s hands away and jerks back, crowding himself up against the wall like a wounded animal.
“Don’t touch me!” Green lightning courses across his flushed skin, crackling and arcing off into the air before disappearing. Shouta’s eyes blaze, immediately pulling out Erasure to cut off the kid’s power before it can even activate. Midoriya doesn’t seem to notice that his Quirk is canceled out, hackles still raised. “Don’t—don’t—”
“Izuku, please calm down,” Yagi begs over his shoulder. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
Shouta doesn’t know if the kid hears Yagi or not; seconds later his eyes roll back, and he slumps down into unconsciousness.
“Calling his power must have destroyed what little energy he had left,” Yagi mutters.
“Good,” Shouta says bluntly. Even without his Quirk, he has no idea if he could subdue Midoriya. (Well, he could, but he just doesn’t know if his frayed nerves could handle holding down one of his students who was begging him to stop.) “Here, hand me those ice packs.”
Together, they bundle Midoriya back up in his bed, tucking ice under his armpits, between his legs, and underneath his neck. The kid doesn’t look like he’s dreaming this time, chest rising and falling rhythmically, finally having fallen into a somewhat restful sleep.
The sound of a door slamming somewhere close by makes both of them jump. Shouta glances down at his watch to confirm what he suspected—classes start in one hour, and his students are waking up. He can’t imagine teaching after all this. All he wants to do is go on a fucking warpath to that damn middle school. But the logical side of him reminds him that he has other things he needs to take care of before he can do that, so he bottles up the rage and sorrow he feels and tells himself he’ll deal with it later.
“How long did it last with Eri?” Yagi isn’t even looking at him, eyes still focused on the kid.
Shouta hums, “Twelve hours.” It had been some of the worst hours of his life. “Just keep him cool and try to calm him down if he wakes up again.” He thinks for a moment. He can’t stay here, not with a full schedule booked out for the day. But if Midoriya tried to activate his Quirk again, there was a chance he’d hurt Yagi, or himself. “I’ll get Nemuri to give you a capsule of Somnambulist. I’d rather you force him into unconsciousness than deal with his Quirk firing off again.”
“I doubt he’d even be able to use it,” Yagi murmurs, sounding oddly cryptic. “It takes so much energy to call, not to mention control it. It burns right through whatever stamina you’ve got, and if he’s in a feverish state, that’s not much.”
He wants to ask how the hell his coworker knows so much about how Midoriya’s Quirk works—speaking about it personally, as though All Might somehow knew how it felt to use Midoriya’s power.
Not now, the rational side of his brain reminds him. This simply isn’t the time to have that conversation. Not with the kid in this state. Not when he still has to go teach today.
Shouta tables the thought to come back to later—because he was going to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on between All Might and that kid, even if it killed him. But right now, he needed to find Nemuri.
Christ, this was going to be a long day.