Work Text:
It was rowdy in the classroom, kids were everywhere you looked. Hanging, breaking or messing around with stuff they’d event supposed to. The teacher desperately tried to contain the children in their seats, but to no avail, they would always escape the moment the teacher turned their back on them. Their patience was running out and more and more frequently, sighs would fall from their lips, until they just started to resume the lesson with the ones that were listening. Which weren’t many, but any cares that might be left had already disappeared out the window.
However, a certain speckled boy with bright green hair sat silently, looking and paying attention with a certain verve, that slightly comforted the teacher into thinking there may be some that were going to become the saving graces of the world.
The boy’s ambition hadn’t prevented a tragedy from happening to him though.
They had found out that he and his mother had been to the doctor for a visit, and discovered that he, Izuku, had no quirk. This proved to be detrimental to the little boy, since it was his dream for as long as he remembered to be a hero one day. That long standing goal now crumbling to the ground, due to a check up that served to explain the long waiting time for his quirk to manifest.
The following days, weeks and months became worse by the minute. Other kids in the class had discovered that Izuku was quirkless, and Bakugou began to bully, gaining people on his side.
They saw it happen, but didn’t do anything. It was a mistake that was going to haunt them.
They couldn’t help from letting their eyes tear up and allowing streams to run over their cheeks.
After about half a year of the bullying, Izuku finally told his mom, who immediately made him transfer to another school. She threatened to sue the school, but Izuku had assured her that that wouldn’t be necessary. So they left, all of a sudden.
Bakugou who had once been the loudest child in the class and Izuku’s childhood friend, turned bully, grew quiet. Too quiet. He stopped associating with the ones who he once laughed with about “stupid deku”. They would notice more and more often that he had started to pay better attention to the lessons they were giving. And one day, Bakugou came up to them to ask if they had any idea where Izuku had gone. They looked at him with pity and regret for not being able to tell him the boy’s whereabouts. But he had just quietly gone back to his place, working further on the assignment they’d given the class.
It had been a few years since then and they had almost forgotten about it, except for the few times that they got flashbacks every now and then to that time. Usually prompted by their coworkers talking about those times, because they probably felt some guilt about the situation too. Ultimately waving away the depressing mood that would accumulate with some comments about how it was all in the past. They always felt put off by that behavior and the initial question about it in the first place. But they wiped off their grimace most of the time, shaking off the feeling of discomfort.
They arrived home after yet another exhausting day of trying to not lash out at kids at times.
Discarding everything they were carrying and turning on the tv, they started preparing their dinner for the night. Nothing that could be called particularly spectacular, but it was enough for them. Pasta as their go-to, was put into a boiling pot once again. Simultaneously, they decided to prepare the carbonara sauce to save time.
They were soon distracted however, when the mention of heroes came on. Grabbing for the remote and increasing the volume, they listened more carefully to what was on.
An interview with the first year students of the UA high school for heroes played on the screen. Multiple unfamiliar faces came by, and they were about to lose hope when they saw a bunch of green hair between all the other ones.
They increased the volume even further and listened. To that voice that changed a bit over the span of time that had passed, but still sounded well-known.
And they broke down. Tears flowing freely as they slumped to the floor, hand over their mouth to muffle the sobs the best they could while they could only apologize over and over.
The pasta that they were cooking was starting to boil over, but they didn’t care. They felt like they had forfeited to even be called a good teacher, a good human being.
“To all of those who once wronged me. I’m disgusted in ways I can’t even articulate.”