Chapter Text
Izuku is checking over his things for the thirtieth time this morning. He has to make sure he has everything he needs. He doesn’t even know why he’s freaking out so much since there’s quite literally no actual class today.
Still he goes through his mental checklist.
Notebook for school related things, his notebook, pencil case full of any writing utensil he could ever dream of, water bottle that he probably won’t touch because he still hates the feeling it gives him, capture weapons securely wrapped around his arms under his shirt, his knives, and—finally—his schedule.
He got his way earlier than everybody else since his classes had to be… moved around, only barely though. In order to accommodate his lessons with Nedzu, of course. While everyone else is being taught English, Izuku will sometimes disappear and go meet Nedzu in his office for whatever he has planned that day. Izuku is also free to stop in during lunch or after school if he’s feeling rather ambitious.
English was the chosen class because Izuku is already fluent in the language. He’ll still go to class a couple times a week, just to keep up appearances and maybe cause mischief since he and Hizashi love to cause mild calamity at any chance they get. And having full conversations in a language most of the room won’t be able to understand or follow? Well, that falls right up their alley.
Just as Izuku decides to attempt to put on his tie he comes to a dead stop as soon as the fabric is looped around his collar, around his throat.
The gasp for air and throwing the fabric down onto the couch beside him as his hands tremble does not go unnoticed to anyone in the apartment. Shouta and Hizashi are immediately concerned, abandoning their spots around the kitchen table and hovering around him with frantic hands that itch to touch. Even Coffee Bean jumps up beside Izuku, nosing at his wrists until she can sit in his lap.
“Green Bean? Everything alright?” Hizashi’s voice breaks through the fog and Izuku can’t even fake nonchalance because his head is already frantically shaking no.
Izuku doesn’t even realise he’s pulling at the collar of his shirt, doing anything to make sure he can inhale, that he can breathe. Gentle hands come to clasp around his wrists and another set undoes the top button on his uniform. As soon as it’s loose he's gulping down air, as if he was just starved of every last molecule of oxygen his body had to offer.
“Izuku?”
“I,” Izuku bites his tongue.
He hasn’t told anyone about these… repercussions yet. Mostly because they’re not too bothersome. It’s not as if people are touching his neck often, in fact the only time it’s come close is when someone was playing with his hair and their hand strayed too low.
These repercussions being how any time something or someone touches his throat or he feels too closed in, when his air supply is cut off or made difficult by any means, he panics. The sensation of suffocating haunts him so much that there’s a hoodie he can’t even think about wearing anymore, because the hood sits too heavy and it pulls the front too high and how there’s drinks he once loved that make him want to throw up now. It all brings him right back to the plaza all those months ago; him watching Katsuki get pulled in by the sludge villain only to save him and be put in his place. Only to end up drowning and choking and—even if it was temporary— dead.
“I couldn’t breathe.”
Simple. Obvious.
His dad’s eyes squint for a millisecond before they go impossibly wide, Izuku has to snuff out the thoughts and will to reprimand the man because that can’t be good for his dry eye. “Izuku, how long has this kind of stuff been bothering you?” Shouta asks but Izuku can tell he already knows the answer and just doesn’t want to believe it. Doesn’t want to realise he missed the signs of Izuku silently suffering and dealing with this newfound fear.
“Since, uh, the sludge villain.” Izuku finally whispers.
Izuku can see both Hizashi and Shouta’s hearts positively break at the admission. Their eyes glazing with melancholy and regret and leftover fear because they couldn’t help him, they couldn’t stop it from ever going as far as it did.
“Oh, kid.” Is all his dad says before he’s being swept into a tight embrace. Shouta and Hizashi sandwiching him between them, arms circling whatever they can. Coffee Bean meows angrily at the movement and interruption, hopping down to glare at the two adults.
Izuku basks in the embrace for a moment, sinking into the warmth and safety of their arms. It’s nice. He doesn’t think he’ll ever take their care for granted.
Hizashi pulls back first, which is unusual but the fire in his eyes is answer enough. “You don’t have to wear the tie. If anyone gives you shit about it, let me know.”
The unspoken threat in his words is heartwarming in the oddest of ways. Hizashi has always been so loud and outspoken about his adoration, softness, and protectiveness towards Izuku.
One of the first times just the two of them hung out, way before romance was even a foreseen future between Shouta and him (due to their oblivious natures and endless silent pining), Hizashi had practically paraded Izuku through the streets and through any shops and restaurants they stopped in. As if he already saw Izuku as family. He did, the first time Shouta had spoke of Izuku with that look in his eye, Hizashi was already accommodating space in his heart for him. He was so kind and gentle and patient that it made Izuku’s head spin at the time because adults being nice to him had still been so foreign, so new.
And for all the blond man is kind and gentle and patient, he is also tenacious and loud and righteous in a way that’s almost overwhelming. His righteousness leads to an anger that is wet hot and scorching. It’s as if it’s always waiting, just settled under his skin, ready to go off at the first sign of someone he loves in pain, whether it’s mental or physical doesn’t matter.
Yet, it doesn’t scare Izuku at all when the blond does let his emotions take the reins like that. Fore Hizashi uses his anger to protect and help. If the man gets enraged on your behalf it is because he loves you.
Or, at least, sees you as someone worthy of his protection and care.
Izuku is glad to be on the receiving end of such fierce love and devotion, however terrifying it can be to the people that wrong him. In fact, that’s a rather big plus on Izuku’s long, long list of pros and cons in life.
“Okay.” Izuku says, voice shaking, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Hizashi says it so swiftly, so surely, that it almost makes Izuku tear up. He’s so grateful for the people in his life, fuck.
Shouta pulls away a few moments later, an eerie determined set to his jaw like he’s making silent plans to take down the world for ever wronging Izuku, for ever putting him in harm’s way that now he can’t put on a tie, of all things, without panicking. How something so mundane was taken from him without even knowing. Izuku doesn’t even like formal wear to begin with but it was still robbed from him, that choice.
If Izuku offers the silent I’m okay, promise in the form of squeezing his dad’s arm, if only to placate the man a little, then only the three—four, if you count Coffee Bean who is still indignantly staring at them because she wants to comfort Izuku without interruptions—of them know.
“Alright. We’re going to talk about this later, when we have time, okay?” His dad asks and Izuku nods lightly. “Okay. Do you have everything you need, are we ready to go?”
Izuku checks his bag. Again. Just to make sure. Coffee Bean settles by his side as he does so. The soft rumble of her purring against his leg makes him feel like everything is okay in the world again. She’s honestly too cute and too soft for her own good, Izuku is weak for her.
Soon enough they’re all walking out the door. Izuku now has his blazer on with his bag hanging off one of his shoulders, his hands keep coming up to his not-weighed-down shoulder just to run over the single button. It’s something so incredibly subtle and almost insignificant but this one single button on his shoulder just further proves that he made it. He’s in the hero course. It makes him laugh breathlessly as he opens the car door and scrambles inside.
Today isn’t even a real class day, as it's technically just the opening ceremony. It’s the Sunday right before classes start. Nedzu has the auditorium decked out for all the students to pile in and be welcomed and introduced to the staff and the way the school works.
Izuku has a strange foreboding feeling in his gut though, his dad looks way too excited for today to just be the opening ceremony. And—based on hearing tales of the past years and classes—he has much different plans for today.
Especially considering every year prior, he's come home from ‘the opening ceremony’ high off expelling some kids that didn’t make the cut.
They’re about 5 minutes away from Yuuei when his dad starts up a conversation he simultaneously was and wasn’t expecting.
“So, Izuku. You’re my son.”
Izuku narrows his eyes into the rear view mirror where he knows his dad can see him looking at him in suspicion.
“I am.” Izuku says with both certainty and hesitancy. “What about it?”
“Well. Do you want people to know that? Or not? I don’t mind either way, to be honest with you.” Shouta says, eyes flicking to Izuku’s through the mirror and back to the road. Hizashi remains carefully quiet and out of the conversation in the passenger seat.
For some reason, this feels like a test.
Izuku thought about it. He knew this would be a somewhat issue of sorts. Inner relations between a teacher and student could be the cause of accusations of his dad treating him differently from others, unfair grading, and all these other things. Izuku knows for a fact his dad would never take it easier on him. The man would probably rather die than give Izuku the easy way out when it comes to training and academics. But these other kids that don’t know them, wouldn’t know that. Hmm.
On one hand, getting it immediately out of the way would be quick and probably fine but, once again, these were kids that Izuku and Shouta did not know. There was no telling who would stay in class and who wouldn’t. People could leak information, personal information of an underground hero and put Shouta and Izuku (and even Hizashi, if they were to find that out) in danger. That’s… not a favourable situation. By any means.
“I,” Izuku hummed, thinking again, before picking back up, “I don’t want to explicitly tell them. If that makes sense. We don’t know if they’re all even going to be in class come tomorrow.” Izuku saw his dad smirk at that, Hizashi poorly covered up a snort of laughter as a cough. Izuku rolled his eyes, pressing forward. “I don’t think we should actively hide it. It’s not like I can just hide my surname, but I don’t think we should say anything about it either. Let them discover it on their own.”
His dad nodded, a pleased quirk to his lips that Izuku only barely caught in the mirror. Hizashi was openly grinning.
Izuku spoke up again, tone light but full of mischief, “It could also just be fun to mess with them. See how long it takes.”
Hizashi looked as if Christmas had come early, probably thinking of all the ways he could throw people off and be blatantly obvious about the two the next moment, and the sadistic grin his dad was sporting was very telling.
When they pull into the designated staff parking area and unload themselves from the car, Izuku has to take a steadying breath again.
God. Anxiety really never fucking sleeps. One day, he will manage to put that godforsaken feeling in a chokehold if only to give him a few measly hours of peace before it woke back up with a vengeance.
Hizashi breaks the silence again, “Green Bean, you know today’s just the opening ceremony so why did you bring your bag?”
Izuku gives him a sly grin. “Nedzu wanted to talk to me afterward! Something about an analysis assignment he wanted to give me.”
The blond looks confused for a moment because, really, if it was just to give an assignment couldn’t Izuku have just brought his notebook and that’s it?
“I also plan on leaving my bag in dad’s classroom. It’s not coming home with us today.”
Hi dad looks mildly affronted. Mouth dropping open in a silent scoff and one side of his nose scrunching up. “My classroom is not a locker.”
“That’s what you think.”
There’s white, reinforced fabric shooting towards him within seconds and Izuku dodges it with an all too delighted laugh.
There’s a fork in the sidewalk leading up to Yuuei, two paths breaking off to different entrances. The student and staff entrances. Izuku is honestly tempted to slip in with his dad and Hizashi. It’d be much quieter and easier on him if he did but he knows Katsuki and Hitoshi are waiting for him and that he, begrudgingly and mildly terrifyingly, needs to meet his classmates.
Which is a whole other thing that Izuku hasn’t really talked about. He thought he was getting better with opening up about his problems but apparently not because all his current issues are unspoken ones. Maybe the little things do need to be addressed after all. Unfortunate.
The thing is: Izuku hasn’t been in real school in over an entire year. He was pulled out in the middle of his second year of middle school and has been personally taught by Nedzu since. No other students or teachers around.
Which he enjoyed, to be quite honest. School has never been kind to him so the bliss and peace that was being Nedzu’s student full-time was welcomed. Izuku thinks Katsuki and Hitoshi might be in similar boats as well. They’ve all been in this weird limbo state of being middle schoolers alone in a high school with fancy personal classes and accommodations to specifically suit their needs. No distractions, no other people, just… them. The three of them. Much like it usually was and probably always will be.
With hugs and encouraging words, Izuku leaves Shouta and Hizashi to go do their ‘teacher things’ as Hizashi oh so diligently explained. Izuku steels his nerves and walks to the front of the building where hopefully Katsuki and Hitoshi are already waiting for him.
Luck is mostly with him, because there, leaned against the stone-wall railing of the steps, is Hitoshi. He’s staring unwaveringly at all the students coming in the building. It’s a little too funny to see just how many other kids shy away under Hitoshi’s chronically unimpressed and critical stare. If any of those poor kids are in his dad’s class with them… they’re going to have an even worse time under his gaze.
Izuku makes his way over quickly and quietly, right beside Hitoshi who only notices him right after he leans back against the rail. Izuku shifts a little uncomfortably. The undershirt and the blazer and the railing digging into the sensitive, molten skin of his back is not pleasant.
He should probably get his uniform changed. Wings that can be manifested the way his can, kind of need an opening of some sort, at least if he wants them to form. And also maybe to get some of the layers off the smouldering patch of blackened skin. It’s too weird and hot and Izuku didn’t realise it before it was being forcibly pressed on to him.
“You manage to get any info out of your dad?” Hitoshi asks him and oh yeah.
That was a thing he was going to do but completely forgot about because of PTSD and important discussions. Izuku knows it would have been a pointless endeavour anyway, his dad has never budged on information before so there’s no reason he would have now. He still feels bad that he didn’t even try though.
“Ah, no. I kind of forgot all about that. We had to talk about how we’re going to, uh- I guess, present ourselves? Our relation to each other?” Izuku says sheepishly before breaking off into a more sure tone. “I’ll tell you about it when Kacchan gets here because you both need to know, I think. It’ll be easier that way.”
Hitoshi hums but he does raise an eyebrow at him. Confused but intrigued.
The two of them chat idly for a while, talking about various bits of information. How Hitoshi really is expecting to go to the ceremony and Izuku has to forlornly explain that he’s 90% sure today is one of his dad’s cleansing days. Where the man goes through and searches for potential and intelligence relentlessly and removes anyone who he deems unfit. The exhausted look Hitoshi gets for a moment almost makes Izuku feel bad for breaking it to him.
Just as Hitoshi is leaning heavily into Izuku, grumbling about sadistic adults that have no right to stress him out this much, Katsuki arrives. His hair is a little messier than usual and he’s shucking off his tie with barely muted hatred and shoving it in his pocket.
Izuku relates. He didn’t even bother to bring his, that disgusting strip of fabric can stay far away from him. No one’s even commented on his lack of tie yet, so it’s probably fine. And if someone thinks it’s not he knows at least 2 adults, probably 3 now because he knows Nemuri was told as soon as they found her, that are willing to fight on his behalf.
Izuku notices how Katsuki’s uniform is a mess. His pants are low, even with him wearing the belt, and his shirt is untucked, not to even mention the pre-established missing tie. His clothes also look oddly rumpled, like he was fighting off someone before coming to school.
Aunt Mitsuki probably tried to smother him in physical affection. She always gets weirdly sentimental around the start of school years. Going on and on about how you’re growing up! what the fuck is up with that?! stop it! Just the thought of Katsuki having to fight off his mom and dad’s affection makes him have to bite back a lopsided smile because he adores them all so much.
Katsuki doesn’t even greet them, just walks up to them and grabs Izuku, who then grabs Hitoshi, and drags them into the building via a chain of hands clasped around wrists. They get a few weird stares but one hardened glare from one very impatient blond has them looking away.
They’re all rather early still. Having around 30 minutes before they need to actually be in their homeroom. Katsuki doesn’t give a shit though so here they are. There’s only two other students in the room with them.
One is a boy with very distinct red and white hair, split directly down the middle. His head is tilted down but Izuku can see what looks like angry red scar tissue around his left eye.
The other is a girl with long black hair that's brought up into a styled ponytail. She seems skittish and unsure of herself, Izuku can recognise the set to her shoulders intimately. She’s trying to make herself smaller, to redirect attention elsewhere.
The curiosity Izuku feels over the two of them is almost debilitating but Izuku is also much too terrified of people his age for his own good, so he keeps quiet and sticks to the people he does know.
Katsuki unceremoniously plops down in the front seat of the row next to the windows, throwing his feet up onto the desk without a second thought. Izuku and Hitoshi set their things beside the two behind him. Hitoshi sits down heavily, no doubt still stewing over the conversation about what to expect from today. Izuku doesn’t bother sitting, his back feels funny stiff and it feels like he’s forgetting something.
Wait.
Oh.
In Katsuki’s haste to get to class, he didn’t have the time or ability to tell them the arrangement he has with his dad and Hizashi.
So he pulls out his phone and stares them down until they acknowledge the frenzied buzzing in their pockets from Izuku dropping 20 texts of jumbled letters and emojis in the group chat.
kacchan!!: holy shit what do u want? why can’t u just talk?
toshi: oh wait
is this abt what u needed to tell us??
yeah!! it’s kinda important…?
kacchan!!: ??
me and my dad decided we didn’t want to outright tell the class who we are to each other. we’re not gonna necessarily hide it bc obvious reasons but we aren’t going to say anything to give it away.
toshi: that makes sense. anything u need us to avoid doing?
idk??? just don’t mention stuff that could rly give it away ig. i kinda want to fuck w everyone
kacchan!!: oh fuck yeah
kajshshs kacchan pls
kacchan!!: so basically. you just want us to keep our mouths shut about him being your dad? ok
toshi: easy enough for us. the real battle will be you not accidentally calling him dad in front of everyone
oh no
kacchan!!: lmaooo we already call him sensei most of the time since he trains us.
you on the other hand…
ahhhhhhhhh. i’m my worst enemy, aren’t i???
toshi: yes :)
i hate it here
Hitoshi snorts and puts his phone away, Katsuki pins Izuku with a fond, exasperated stare. Izuku pouts, blowing out air hard enough his lips vibrate a little and his hair flutters up for a second. It makes both his friends huff a laugh.
They talk quietly amongst themselves, or as quietly as they can with Izuku being very excited and with Katsuki’s normal speaking voice being a volume above average to say the least. A few more students have wandered in and taken seats, just sitting silently or playing on their phone.
Katsuki and Izuku share a silent acknowledgement of not wearing their ties, Hitoshi thinks they’re a bit ridiculous.
Izuku’s been looking around the classroom intently since they walked in. Just because he’s been in Yuuei before and has somehow explored the whole building purely by accident, doesn’t mean the magic of being a student of Yuuei has been lost on him.
Looking around the classroom also brings him to a realisation.
“Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice sounds disgusted and it makes both Katsuki and Hitoshi swing their attention to him.
“What, ‘Zuku?”
Izuku can tell his face is scrunched up but he can’t even hide his displeasure, “There’s an uneven amount of desks. That row has one more than the others.”
The two look toward it and their faces both sour as well. At least not only Izuku is unreasonably upset with something so mundane.
“Oh. That’s gross.” Hitoshi’s tone is soaked in distaste.
Katsuki kind of looks like he’s willing to blow up the desk just to fix the asymmetry. Izuku might turn a blind eye to it if he does.
When the class door rattles open with a ferocity Izuku had decidedly not been expecting this morning, he startles a little.
And then further startles when he realises just who walked in.
It’s the boy that went off on him—twice—and the girl he saved from the Zero Pointer. And they’re both headed directly towards Izuku.
The boy seemingly gets distracted as soon as his eyes stray to Katsuki though, his face morphing into something scandalised before he brings his hand up and starts chopping at the air. “Class hasn’t even properly started and you are already disrespecting Yuuei’s property and your classmates?! Put your feet down at once!”
Izuku and Hitoshi could only stare in disbelief.
Katsuki did not appreciate the tirade the guy was going on. The annoyed, unimpressed grimace that graced Katsuki’s features was entirely justified in Izuku’s opinion.
“Who put a stick up your ass? What middle school are you even from, you two-bit extra?”
Silence.
Utter silence.
The girl who came in with the guy looks like she’s about to pass out, several other students are looking at Katsuki as if he’s some sort of angry god that should never be messed with or tempted. Izuku, personally, doesn’t think they’re too far off. But that could be the—rather large—part of his brain dedicated to loving Kacchan talking.
The guy sputters both literally and figuratively. His face is turning red in either embarrassment or fury, it’s a little unclear. Izuku thinks that if this were an old timey cartoon, there would be genuine steam pouring out of his ears. At some point Hitoshi laced his hand with Izuku’s in an attempt to ground himself and keep from laughing, it’s barely working considering Izuku is very close to doing the same thing.
“That is inappropriate and disrespectful! How can you use such language in this setting?!” It’s almost sad how genuinely shocked and outraged the guy is at Katsuki’s behaviour and how the blond is obviously not taking him seriously. “And I am Iida Tenya, from Somei Academy!”
“Oh, so you think you’re some kind of elite, huh? Think you can just look down on me ?” Katsuki eggs on, a condescending grin in place.
That makes the guy go on and on and on. Izuku finally speaks up if only to make him stop.
“Excuse me, uh,” Izuku clears his throat a little, “Who said you were in charge?”
Hitoshi casts Izuku an incredulous glance, Katsuki scowl softens just a little, and the Iida guy looks positively affronted. “I am just trying to have order in the classroom!” he exclaims.
“Well. None of us, including Kacchan, are doing anything wrong. If anything you’re just making an unnecessary scene.” Izuku says it calmly but the nerves under his skin are threatening to eat him alive.
It gets through to the guy, somehow, because now he actually looks around himself and notices how everyone’s staring at him mindlessly yelling. He straightens up before speaking, “Ah. I originally came over wishing to speak to you.” He redirects.
Izuku blinks, weakly lifts a hand to point at himself, “Me?”
“Yes. About my behaviour at the entrance exam and judging you so harshly when you knew the secret to the exam all along. My apologies.”
Well, this is not what Izuku was expecting. At all. In fact, that apology seems a little underhanded, an afterthought. Like Izuku only deserved an apology because Izuku did well and not because he was an accusatory asshole.
“It’s… fine. I wasn’t aware of any secrets to the exam though. I just did what I thought I should.”
The girl accompanying him finally speaks up, her voice is high and bubbly and the way she’s looking at Izuku is a little starry-eyed. “But you saved me and got all those points! Thank you by the way! I was never able to catch up to you after I got out of Recovery Girl’s office, my name’s Uraraka Ochako!”
Izuku, simply from just how close she’s gotten to him, blushes and stutters, “You- ah- you don’t need to- to thank me for that! It was nothing!”
“This’s the person you broke your arm for?” Hitoshi asks. Izuku winces a little at the reminder but nods nonetheless, he can’t really find his voice anymore. There’s too many eyes focusing on him, as since the minor standoff with Iida, pretty much the entire class has entered the room.
One guy is staring intently at Hitoshi, who senses it quite quickly. He walks over and politely introduces himself as Tokoyami Fumikage, he’s the one Hitoshi managed to work with for a moment in the entrance exams. Apparently his quirk acted up and Hitoshi helped get it under control since it’s sentient, which almost makes Izuku spill over with mumbled questions. He can feel his hand twitch towards his bag, practically begging for his notebook.
Just when a group of three are starting to make their way over to them, there’s a weird but very distinct tingle enters the back of Izuku’s mind.
He should probably sit down. And be quiet.
Izuku discreetly catches Hitoshi and Katsuki’s attention and nods toward the door. Without making much of a fuss they sit down and retreat from the current conversations going on around them: people asking questions about each other and their quirks. Who got what place in the exam.
Only the three of them notice Shouta slumped on the floor in front of the classroom door.
The man is wrapped in a neon yellow sleeping bag that Izuku has only heard stories about; somehow any and all pictures of the phenomenon disappear. The sight makes Izuku have to pinch his arm in order to keep himself from losing his goddamn mind. The stories do not bring any justice to the real sight. Black meets green immediately, Shouta looks pleased that Izuku kept quiet about his appearance but also caught the shift immediately.
The room goes on around them, loud discussions and excited chatter. People are still bouncing around the room and half the class isn’t even in their seats, there’s a pair of girls having a conversation practically right in front of the door, only about a metre away from the roll of yellow on the ground.
Izuku just keeps flickering his gaze from his new classmates to his dad—his Sensei. Oh fuck, he probably should’ve practiced this kind of transition beforehand. Izuku watches as his expression gets more and more grim, his eye twitching more with every minute that passes.
Katsuki looks behind himself, back at Izuku with something akin to nervousness in his eyes. He’s probably picked up on the increasing irritation that's radiating from the front of the room. Behind Izuku, Hitoshi has a hand reaching out, grasping at a part of Izuku’s blazer.
Admittedly, it’s a little funny just how scared people are of his dad. Especially when it’s Hitoshi and Katsuki considering they’ve known the man for years.
Five minutes is the longest Shouta’s willing to wait for them apparently because his tired voice rings out making the rest of the class freeze. The girls near the door visibly pale and murmur about how there is some thing at the door. Izuku is so close to laughing it’s making his shoulders shake and his lungs constrict almost painfully.
“If you are here to make friends, go somewhere else.” Shouta sounds exhausted. “This is the hero department.”
Izuku watches in somewhat fascination as his dad haphazardly sits up, produces a jelly pouch out of nowhere, and drains it before standing up. The man didn’t even have patrol last night and Izuku saw him just under an hour ago… Why does look dead on his feet now? What happened in the teacher’s lounge?
“I’m Aizawa Shouta, your homeroom teacher.” The gasp from several kids at that statement makes his already dull gaze even duller. “Only one of you noticed when I arrived. Two of you were told. The rest of you didn’t notice at all. On top of that it took you a full 8 seconds to quiet down.”
He reaches down into the sleeping bag he’s only halfway out of and pulls out a stack of clothes that looks like it should not have been able to fit in there with him. Does his dad have a fucking magical sleeping bag? Did he get someone with a dimension quirk to expand it? How did he fit himself and 21 uniforms in there?!
“These are your gym uniforms.” He plops the stack onto the desk and holds one up before throwing it atop the rest. “Take one and then go get changed and meet me in the training grounds. You have 10 minutes.”
Then he walks out of the room. Nothing else. Izuku heaves a silent sigh before he gets up, being the only one to move, and picks up three uniforms before dragging his still somewhat stunned friends out with him.
If he’s walking faster than usual, no one can blame him.
That may be his dad but he knows to take the man seriously, especially in this kind of setting.