Archive of Our Own

Shouta had been having an exceptionally good time. Of course, he should have known it wasn’t going to last.

He had been – not paranoid, no matter what Hizashi thought of the matter –reasonably worried when he had watched Midoriya disappear with Hawks, but as the rest of the day had passed with no emergency calls or sirens blaring, he had allowed himself to be lured into a sense of complacency. He hadn’t been pleased when Midoriya’s internship had been leaked, had been tempted even to pull it then and there, but the footage Nezu had shown him, of Hawks expertly shielding Midoriya and getting him into the Aerie – Shouta wouldn’t have even known for sure who was being hidden by Hawks if he had not known to look for the bright scarlet shoes Midoriya always wore – had been enough to compel him to believe, that whatever the young hero had up his sleeve, he was capable of protecting the problem child.

And so, Shouta had been lured – not quite into full security, he was too experienced for that – into a sense of contentment that had allowed him to push concerns over his students’ internships onto the back burner. He made sure all of their and their mentors’ numbers were set to audibly sound on his phone and went about his day.

He wasn’t yet cleared to return to the field – a rule that bothered him to no end but that Hizashi was ruthlessly enforcing – and his own physical training was limited by the twinging and pain in his elbow, but that didn’t mean he was without work while his students were away.

It hadn’t been hard to track down Hitoshi Shinsou, the gen-ed boy who had made it all the way to the final competition at the Sports Festival only to get unceremoniously thrown by Midoriya in the first round. It had helped that the boy was in Hizashi’s homeroom and Shouta had made his intentions clear enough to his husband that the other man had known to keep the boy just long enough that Shouta could corner him.

The boy was a twig, obviously physically undertrained, and antisocial to a fault. The uneasy scowl he had given Shouta was only tempered by an ingrained respect of teachers. Probably, the boy had been the victim of some quirk discrimination in the past, the type that not even his presentation as an alpha, in his third year of middle school according to his student file, would have mitigated. He knew to be wary, but not overly hostile. A good trait, really.

The boy’s scowl had quickly faded into a look of stunned disbelief when Shouta had made his offer, a rather satisfying turn of events, and Shouta had made quick work of giving the boy the proper paperwork needed for his new training, to be given to his parents, and setting up the time for their first official meeting.

The boy was not ready for a direct transfer, but it had also been shoddy luck that had handed him Midoriya in the first round. Had it been another one of the students, Shinsou probably could have made it much further in the competition and made a stronger case for himself. That didn’t matter though; the boy had the potential and the drive to make it into 1-A or 1-B and Shouta wasn’t about to let that fall to the wayside.

That had been a good meeting and it had the promise of bringing forth an equally favorable return the next day, when, provided permissions were given, Shouta would have begun training the boy.

It had also been when one of the last few good moments before everything had gone to hell.

Shouta had gone home after that – he had no more children to reach out to or classes to teach and, even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he still tired more easily than he had before the USJ attack. It was far more comfortable to grade his students’ work and periodically check on their statuses from the couch in his own apartment.

It wasn’t just Midoriya who was cause for concern after all. But Iida had made it safely, according to the punctual message his devoted student had sent and the subsequent confirming message from Manual just a few seconds later. There was nothing concerning in the texts, and Shouta had checked off Iida on his list of students who had arrived – he required check-ins, not because he was paranoid, but because he knew better than to just let a series of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds loose in the world with no way of contacting them. Sure, they were all going to be with professional heroes, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get into trouble before they arrived.

The other, less troublesome students, all sent in their messages as the evening wore on and Shouta had been feeling mostly content by the time seven in the evening had rolled by with the last message – from Asui, who had traveled the furthest for her internship at sea – pinging in punctual and without incident.

Hizashi had come home after that, and the evening had passed in a blur of peaceful domesticity that was an unfortunate rarity in their lives once the school year began. Without Shouta’s patrol, they had even managed to go to sleep at a decent time.

The morning had dawned equally without incident – there were no warning texts from Manual that Iida had done anything worrying and Hawks hadn’t managed to get Midoriya splashed across the front page of any newspaper or amongst the trending topics of social media – and Shouta had finally allowed himself to ease the breath he had been holding.

The first day was always the roughest, with the travel and first meetings; while second days could bring their own difficulties, it was rare for them to be truly terrible. None of the students were even scheduled to start patrols until the afternoon, at the earliest. Shouta wasn’t foolish enough to believe no problems could reach the likes of troublemakers like Midoriya, but nothing this early could be that terrible.

He had gone throughout the day with that false sense of security darting after every footstep.

His morning had consisted of the same grading and checking to make sure none of his students were trending. He taught the third year’s ethics class without incident and even managed to grab a sizable nap in his favorite spot without interruption.

His afternoon meeting with Shinsou had gone well; the boy’s parents had given permission without question, and while the boy was physically quite weak and had no ability at hiding the sour expressions on his face, he was eager to learn and quick to get back on his feet. He had left the gym hours later with some mild bruises, a few choice words under his breath that Shouta had graciously decided to ignore, and the promise to be there at the same time, after classes, the next day.

Nothing of note had happened, nothing concerning; he had thought the danger had all but passed by the time he was home and listening to the familiar sound of his husband’s voice on the radio as he scoured through reports on the League of Villains with their two cats curled up next to him.

That moment, of course, was when everything decided to go to hell.

It started with an emergency alert on his phone, cutting through Hizashi’s voice and sending the cats careening off. Shouta had been merely disgruntled as he snatched the phone up – most likely, it was just a warning of a minor attack. That disgruntlement had immediately turned into cold panic when he skimmed the alert.

Multiple unidentified monstrous giants attacking Hosu.

Hosu, where one of Shouta’s students was, on the night that he was scheduled to have his first full patrol.

Shouta had rushed to turn the news on as he punched in Manual’s phone number. He should have been informed before the attack became national public news – he had been forced to turn off almost all Hero alerts on his phone, lest he be tempted to jump in on an attack or incident before being cleared, but Manual should have contacted him, or had Iida done it. There was no way Manual was stupid enough to let a first-year student stay out in an attack of that magnitude; Iida had to either already be safe or on his way to safety.

His first call went unanswered. His television screen lit the room with scenes of horror.

It was worse than the alert had implied; it wasn’t just some unidentified villains with dangerous quirks, that was unquestionably Nomu tearing into a hotel in downtown Hosu.

Nomu was in Hosu.

Multiple Nomu were in Hosu. The city where one of his students was supposed to be.

Shouta had been worried about Iida doing something stupid about Tensei’s attack in Hosu and instead a small army of Nomu were devastating the city.

Shouta’s second call to Manual went to voicemail.

He called Iida.

No answer.

He went to call again – if Iida didn’t answer, he’d call Manual’s agency; someone had to be fielding emergency calls – but he paused in the middle of dialing, suddenly arrested by the sight in front of him.

The hotel had begun collapsing in on itself, not strong enough to withstand the massive chunks the Nomu had taken out of the first story. That by itself was terrible, but Shouta had seen plenty of building collapses in his career, it wouldn’t have been enough to make him lose focus on finding out the whereabouts of his student for even a second.

A glimpse of a mop of emerald curls and a too familiar school uniform, however, very much was.

No. No way in hell was that who he thought it was. Shouta threw his phone down to grab the remote and rewind the video.

People were pouring out of the hotel in a massive stream; some were screaming and running around frantically looking for missing loved ones, others were trying to help the hero on scene guide people to safety. It was hard to make out anybody and for half a second, Shouta thought he must have imagined it.

But then, the green was back and Shouta hit pause before he fully registered it and was greeted by a sight he never expected to see.

That was, without a doubt, Midoriya emerging from the collapsing hotel right after two tiny figures, a body in his arms.

Midoriya was supposed to be with Hawks. He wasn’t supposed to be alone in Hosu. He certainly wasn’t supposed to be in the middle of an all-out battlefield.

Shouta went from worried to downright furious and back again in a matter of seconds.

He hated, almost more than anything, being left in the dark. He abhorred being played as the fool. He despised being misled or lied to.

Hawks had done all three, and in doing so, the upstart had also managed to do the one thing Shouta would tolerate less than anything else.

He had put one of his students in danger; had led them right in the fire. And he had told Shouta none of it.

The fact that Midoriya had also told Shouta none of it, rankled nearly as much. The boy knew better, but he was also still the child. Shouta couldn’t say, with certainty, that even he would have been able to deny a request of the number three ranked hero at only fifteen. But Hawks was, supposedly, an adult. One who Shouta had told, very clearly, not to mess with him.

He had trusted that glorified chicken with one of his students, even despite his misgivings about the boy’s affiliation with the Hero Commission, and now he was watching that same student carry injured civilians from collapsing buildings hours away from where he was supposed to be.

That winged brat better hope the Nomu got to him before Shouta arrived in Hosu because, once he’d ascertained the safety of both Iida and Midoriya, he was coming for him.

And he was going to set the damned brat on fire.

Shouta’s calls still weren’t going through to Manual’s agency, and his subsequent furious call to Hawks’ direct line also went unanswered. It didn’t matter, he was already out the door, capture scarf and keys in hand. He would get answers once he arrived.

He didn’t bother calling Hizashi – the man wouldn’t answer while on air unless Shouta pulled a code red; but he did send a text explaining that he was leaving for Hosu. Odds were, his husband had already seen news of the attack; Shouta’s abrupt departure would undoubtedly annoy the man – overprotective idiot that he had been the last few weeks – but he would understand. Especially since his text mentioned both Iida and Midoriya.

He didn’t even have to call Nezu. The principal called him while he was getting into his car – all trains heading into Hosu were more than likely halted indefinitely and Shouta could drive like a demon when properly motivated. The rodent-bear-stoat was unbearably cheerful sounding even as he confirmed that Hawks definitely hadn’t informed the school of Midoriya’s change in location – the last shred of information that might have saved the colossal fool from his untimely but decidedly deserved demise – and Shouta might have turned around and attacked the principal as well, if time permitted, when Nezu had revealed that he had known about the change in location the moment Midoriya had arrived in Hosu but hadn’t deemed it important to tell Shouta at the time.

Nezu was next on his list, once he’d found his students and killed Hawks. If the bastard had just told Shouta hours ago, they wouldn’t be in half as big of a mess as this. Shouta would have gone and collected Midoriya himself and at least checked in with Iida.

At the very least, Shouta had thought as he made a reckless streak down the highway, with all the craziness surrounding Hosu City, there was little chance Iida would follow Shouta’s worst suspicions and go after the Hero Killer. No matter how driven by grief and vengeance the boy may be, Shouta didn’t know of a single Iida that wouldn’t put duty before all else. Either Iida was safely tucked away, as he should be, or he was helping corral fleeing civilians – the absolute most a first-year student should be allowed to do. He wouldn’t be in the dark recesses of the city, hunting a monster.

Shouta had been halfway to Hosu – the roads entering the city were almost completely empty and he had already had to slow down and pass over his hero license to a severe looking officer to continue his journey to the locked down city – when he received another call from Nezu.

And another adult was added to his list.

Endeavor had been spotted fighting Nomu in Hosu City. Endeavor, who had, despite Shouta’s best attempts at convincing the younger Todoroki otherwise, taken control of his son’s internship. Endeavor, who Shouta had at least expected to have some form of parental concern despite his general assholery, had apparently been in Hosu for hours and had taken his son with him.

Now there were three of Shouta’s students caught in the mess that was Hosu. If the heroes kept acting so ridiculously illogical and stupid, Shouta was going to end up attacking the entirety of the top ten.

Nearly half of them were on his list already.

Shouta passed several more check points – each one more nervous and agitated than the last – before he had finally made it to the outskirts of the city.

All cars had, rather intelligently, been banned from driving into the city but Shouta had no qualms leaving his behind. City driving was awful and he could make his way far more swiftly with his capture weapon and his own two feet.

Hizashi would be further annoyed that Shouta had strained his elbow, but that was only if the man found out, which Shouta had no intention of happening.

The city, by the time Shouta had arrived, was unerringly silent. The attack had finally ended. The edges of the city had been spared the brunt of the damage but as Shouta had quickly made his way through to the central police station – they would certainly have answers – the damage became clearer and clearer.

Piles of rubble where buildings had stood, torn up asphalt where streets had once run smoothly, the flickering remnants of fires yet to be put out. The shuffling sound of rescue workers – professional heroes, first responders, and volunteer civilians alike – methodically making their way through the wreckage. Their voices – professional, calm, and repetitive – were the only sounds in the unnatural silence. Very few times did a callback sound and Shouta refused to linger on whether that was a good or very bad sign.

He couldn’t stop to help, not until he had found confirmation on the whereabouts and safety of his three students, and so he forced himself to barely spare a glance at the rescue workers, only responding once when a voice had answered back to their calls, young and panicked, underneath a slab of rubble too heavy for the workers to lift on their own.

He left the moment the workers had gotten hold of the victim, brushing away their thanks with a brusque, borderline rude wave of his hands. Moments later, he was in the central police station, marching purposely throughout the chaos that always came to the police after a massive altercation.

Shouta wasted no time beelining straight for the police chief’s office – he had no time for people who couldn’t answer any of his questions. (f any man knew where three UA students and their hero sponsors were, it was the chief. A young man, hardly older than Shouta’s own students, new to the job and probably overwhelmed by his first disaster met his gaze as Shouta made it to the door of the police chief’s office and scrambled to meet him.

“Wait, sir –“ Shouta did not wait, although the educator part of his mind begrudgingly gave the boy some points for not only noticing someone approaching the chief’s door, but also actively trying to stop them from entering the office unannounced. The kid had some courage - or perhaps stupidity - but it wasn’t enough to stop Shouta.

“Ah, Mr. Aizawa, I was wondering if I would be seeing you or Principal Nezu this evening.” Chief Tsuragamae was seated at his desk, looking serene as ever even as he shifted through a massive pile of paperwork. Beside Shouta, the young officer who had tried to stop him halted and stood immediately at attention.

“Sir! I apologize – I know you said you weren’t to be disturbed for anything less than a second attack. I tried to stop this man but –“

Chief Tsuragamae waved off the officer’s apologies. “Nothing to it, woof.” The young man probably looked unsure but Shouta didn’t turn to look – he stalked into the room without a second thought, eyes firmly locked onto the chief’s.

“Let’s cut all the bullshit, Tsurgamae. Where are they?” There was a low gasp from the door. The kid really was green, if that had surprised him. Every police officer Shouta had ever met had given even Nemuri a run for the most creative swears, and it wasn’t like what he had said was that bad. Shouta was certainly thinking worse in his head.

“I’m sure you’ve realized, Mr. Aizawa, that a massive attack has happened and there are many missing civilians, woof. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Shouta barely resisted the urge to slam his hands down on the man’s desk. “You were expecting me, you know why I’m here. Don’t you dare play games with me. Where are my kids?”

Chief Tsurgamae stared at him for a moment, his whiskers twitching slightly. Shouta resisted the urge to swipe all the papers off his desk. “They’re at Musutafu Central. Hawks’ been playing guard, hardly letting anyone pass, while they rest. Didn’t even let Manual stay to watch over Mr. Iida. But Mr. Aizawa, I think we should talk –“

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Shouta turned without another word. The young man yelped and barely made it out of the way as Shouta barged passed him. The chief might have said something to Shouta’s retreating back, but whatever it was lost on him as he marched out of the station as abruptly as he had stormed in.  

The hospital wasn’t far but every inch of it, when he had arrived, was teeming with worried family members, injured patients and harried staff running about. Hosu really had been an unmitigated disaster and worry warred with his anger as he stomped up the stairs towards the pediatric ward. There was no way any of those three idiots would have stayed out of trouble and Shouta only had the words of the police chief to assure himself that the boys weren’t in critical condition.

He had to show both his hero license and his UA ID to get past the stern-faced head nurse into the pediatrics unit. It was calmer there than it had been on the first floor, but there was still an alarming amount of teary-faced parents awaiting news of their children in the seating area, their haunted eyes staring blankly ahead or darting towards the source of every movement, desperate for any news.

Shouta had been told where the three boys were and warned they were under restriction for their safety, alone at the end of a mostly empty hallway. Shouta didn’t understand why, that was hardly standard protocol for people after a large-scale villain attack, even for hero students, but he would find out. She’d also assured him the boys were all stable, but any more detailed information would have to be given to him by the doctors or the nurse in charge of them. Basically nothing. Shouta barely remembered to thank her for the little she’d given him as he stormed past.

Having to show his license and confirm his relationship with his students again to two police officers stationed at the front of the hallway only darkened his mood further.

Something had happened that was far more complicated than a villain attack and no one was telling Shouta what it was.

Which was illogical. It seemed almost as though someone, perhaps the chief, was expecting some sort of retaliation, and if Shouta needed to protect his students from something, he had to know what it was.

He would find out; he would find out everything and if there was more to this than simply getting caught in the wrong place, wrong time, if there was any risk still remaining to his students, Shouta would destroy everything that he deemed a threat.

Starting with the overgrown, cherry red chicken standing guard at the door at the end of the hall.

“Aizawa.” Hawks at least looked unsurprised to see him, and he didn’t bother offering any of his fake smiles as he nodded towards Shouta, his golden eyes completely somber for once. Shouta might have given him a few begrudging points for that alone, if he hadn’t been nearly overcome by the rush of fury that came over him. Hawks shouldn’t have been in Hosu, Midoriya shouldn’t have been in Hosu. And he damn well shouldn’t have been in a hospital room with Todoroki and Iida.

Shouta had to fight down his rage. Answers first, murder second.

“What are their injuries?” Shouta was nearly desperate with the desire of knowing exactly what happened, but he would rather hear that from his students, if they were capable. He had to assume that Hawks had not been present when most of the injuries had occurred and therefore, would not know all the answers Shouta needed. The brat should, however, be able to tell him exactly what Shouta was walking into without any of the bullshit.

As expected, Hawks immediately launched into an explanation. “Multiple lacerations on all of them, Todoroki has the least severe, Iida the most. The doctor hasn’t confirmed anything, but nerve damage looks likely in Iida’s right arm. Midoriya messed up both of his arms pretty bad, but nothing more permanent than scarring. He also broke a few bones in his foot, somehow. Quirk fatigue in both Todoroki and Iida, exhaustion in all of them.” Shouta took mental stock of each answer; the threat of nerve damage was concerning, particularly if it ended up requiring surgery. The lack of bludgeoning was a surprise. The Nomu back at the UA had been more of brute force kind of villain, although it wouldn’t surprise him if one of the many monsters that had roamed Hosu just hours before had claws. Overall, given the size of the attack, their wounds were fairly –

“Fairly minor wounds, given the circumstances.” Hawks finished Shouta’s thought. “Your kids must have some sort of Devil’s luck. Too many grown heroes came out far worse when they fought the Hero Killer.”

That was true, at least for Midoriya – Shouta found himself wondering more and more often if he had been falsely diagnosed and had some sort of invisible quirk. How else could one child cause so much trouble –

Shouta’s thoughts screeched to a halt as the rest of Hawks’ words finally registered.

“What do you mean. The Hero Killer?”

Hawks had the decency to look actually surprised at the tone in Shouta’s voice. “I mean the Hero Killer? The man who nearly skewered your students?  Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I’m here,” Shouta’s voice was a hiss, “because three of my students were caught in a massive attack, likely perpetrated by the League of Villains. You’re telling me they fought the Hero Killer?”

“Did the chief not tell you?” Hawks now looked torn between surprised and annoyed. It was enough to convince Shouta that the other hero really had thought he had known. Or he was a phenomenal actor. Tersely, Shouta shook his head and the winged brat swore under his breath something that sounded suspiciously similar to “that ducking putt.”

“The Hero Killer?” Shouta repeated, his voice dangerous. “You took my fifteen-year-old first-year student halfway across the country so he could fight the Hero Killer?” Only the knowledge that the three boys were separated by a single door kept him from shouting.

“It’s not like I intended for him to fight the Hero Killer!” Shouta didn’t like the way Hawks’ words were emphasized and his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You came for him.” Something flashed across Hawks’ face, a rare bit of genuine, raw emotion that passed too swiftly for Shouta to place. 

“It’s not like I had a choice.” There was something bitter in Hawks’ voice, something that matched that brief look on his face, but it was gone before Shouta could even think to question it. Hawks stepped away from the door, just enough for Shouta to pass, a move that was just startling enough to slightly unsettle him. Hawks hadn’t made so much as a hint of posturing towards Shouta and yet, he couldn’t help but have expected more of a fight. If the boys really had fought the Hero Killer – a fact that Hawks had no reason to lie about – the whole wing should have been swarming with police officers, all trying to get statements and figure out a plan of action. Someone had kept them at bay and Shouta would have bet good money it was the number three hero.

“I don’t know the whole story. Things got weird, I think. You’d better hear it from them. They were all sleeping last time I peeked in, but it’s probably best you wait in there.” There was something empty in the man’s tone, carefully casual as it was. Part of Shouta wanted to stay and argue, wanted to pry any and all information as to how all the adults had so colossally messed up and exactly what Hawks had gotten into that he’d had no choice but to bring Shouta’s number one trouble magnet with him on a hunt for Stain. A much larger part, however, the part that had been screaming in the back of his head ever since he’d first gotten the news of an attack in Hosu, the part that had screamed louder and louder as more of his students were added to the disaster, wanted to do nothing more than run into that room and finally see for himself that the children were okay. And then kill them himself for being so stupid.

That part won and Shouta shot a final dark look – a promise that he was nowhere done with the number three and he would be getting answers even if it meant plucking the brat bare to do it – at the younger hero before nearly slamming the door open in his haste to get inside. A rustle before Shouta had closed the door again told him Hawks had taken his guard back up in the center of the door.

Whether Hawks was guarding the students from an overeager police force or something else entirely, Shouta didn’t know. It didn’t matter, for now.

He had three beds to check.

The boys were indeed sleeping. There had to be some medications involved, Shouta was certain, both because it would be illogical not to assume pain medication given the amount of clean white bandages he could see poking out from underneath the mountain of blankets all three were hidden in, and because there was no way these brats, with perhaps the exception of Todoroki who didn’t do much of anything that could be described as expressive, slept so stilly. Midoriya was never not moving and Shouta had heard enough stories about Iida from Tensei when the boy was younger to know he had a habit of kicking in his sleep.

There were too many blankets on them. Whatever nurse had thought making faux nests on top of the boys rather than around them obviously wasn’t an omega and should be removed from the pediatrics unit immediately. They would overheat, especially Todoroki, if they weren’t careful. Shouta itched with the urge to rearrange the blankets properly, but he didn’t know how light of sleepers his students were or if any mild sedative had been included in the pain medication. As angry as he was, he wasn’t about to wake them up to yell at them. Their ears would work just as well once they had rested as they would if he woke them now.

The fact that Shouta would rather die than allow one of his students to wake up to him building a proper nest around them may have also played a role in that decision, but Shouta would rather focus on the more practical reasons.

He made a slow, assessing round through the beds.

Iida’s damaged arm was free of the blankets, wrapped in thick, stiff bandages and held up by a pure white sling. He had bandages on the other, peeking out through the blankets, but no other obvious injuries. His chest was rising and falling steadily, no hint of a wheeze in the slow, soft breaths that escaped his lips. No lung damage had been reported, but it was still good to check. Lung damage was terrible for any hero, but it would be a death sentence for someone who relied on sprinting like Iida. His career would have been dead in its infancy.

The young – painfully young, too young for all of this - boy’s face was stiff, his lips pursed as though even in sleep he couldn’t escape his thoughts. Shouta didn’t know, for certain, what had caused the boys to encounter Stain, but he had his suspicions – suspicions born long before this night – about what drove Iida these past few weeks. If any of them were even a fraction accurate, it was likely Iida wouldn’t have peaceful sleep for a long time.

Shouta moved on to Todoroki. White bandages, much thinner than Iida’s peeked out on one of the boy’s arms and a thick padding of gauze covered one of the boy’s cheeks. His breathing was even, though, and while there was perhaps a hint of a flush on the boy’s uncovered cheek, there were no beads of sweat or hint of discomfort in his brow that would indicate overheating. Todoroki’s face, in fact, seemed almost peaceful, the most relaxed Shouta had ever seen him. Young, too terribly young. It was hard, sometimes, to remember that Todoroki was only fifteen, the same age as all his other students. Shouta had to resist the urge to tug on the blankets that swamped him and turned instead to the final bed.

If Todoroki’s youth had surprised him, Midoriya’s was downright stomach-turning. Shouta knew, of course he knew, it was his job to know, how small the boy was but seeing him swamped in a sea of blankets, covering just over half of the large hospital bed, it struck him how truly tiny he was. He had felt some of the same after the Sports Festival but even then, the blow had been cushioned by the fact that, no matter how violent the fight had seemed, there were people to step in. Seeing Midoriya’s small frame tucked into a massive bed and knowing that, given the odds, it was a miracle he wasn’t identifying a too-small body on an autopsy table.

It wasn’t logical, wasn’t fair, the way Shouta’s every instinct screamed at him to assess Midoriya more than they had the other boys. Midoriya was just as capable, had withstood the same unlikely odds as his fellow students, but he was just too damn small. And with his chubby cheeks and the rosy flush that never quite faded even under the unforgiving hospital fluorescents, he looked several years younger than the other boys.

Shouta found himself staring at the boy, fighting each and one of his instincts that screamed at him to touch the boy, to assess the damage with his own eyes, rewrap his wounds with his own hands, or at least properly arrange the blankets around him. Anger warred with concern and he didn’t bother trying to hide it from blooming on his face. Anger at his students for being reckless – how did Midoriya get from the hotel collapse to fighting the Hero Killer in some dingy back alley? How did Todoroki get from his father’s side to that same fight? – anger at the heroes who were supposed to watch the students and shield them from this much harm, anger at them for failing to stop the Hero Killer before it reached his students, anger at the Hero Killer for being a murderous bastard. Anger at Nezu for not telling him what had happened before it got to this point. Anger at himself, too, for dismissing the danger signs that had been blaring in front of him for days, for not following his own instincts that said Hawks was too dangerous to be trusted with his student. Anger at himself for not fully appreciating the dangerous tracks Iida’s mind had been going down.

So much anger, so much concern. Shouta hadn’t felt so much warrying emotions since the dreaded attack on USJ, and at least then, he had been there to protect his students. Thirteen had been there and help had been only minutes away. Here, his students had to have been alone. Alone, terrified, and fighting a force much stronger than them. Failed by every adult that had been entrusted with their safety.

He hadn’t informed Mrs. Midoriya or the Iidas, but they must have been told by now. Shouta would have to face them and reveal how great this failure had been. He doubted presenting them with the remnants of Hawks, Manual, and Endeavor would be enough to keep their own wraths at bay.

Mrs. Midoriya was a crier, too. Liable to flood the entire pediatrics unit once she reached her only child.

And Shouta would have to deal with it all. Have to face his own failure in a too sterile hospital wing, waiting for three too-young children to wake up from their second near-death experience.

He was so furious, staring down at Midoriya’s too still, too small form that he nearly missed the moment pale lids opened to reveal emerald eyes, still clouded by sleep and medication. He didn’t, however, miss the moment Midoriya realized who was staring down at him, and his eyes narrowed at the sudden fear that spiked in his face.

“M-Mr. Ai-“ Midoriya’s voice was faint, hoarse from sleep – or perhaps from screaming, had the boy screamed for help while the Hero Killer barred down on him, screamed into an empty alleyway while the city was consumed by violence?  Had anyone but his friends answered the call? – but the fear in it was palpable.

Shouta wanted answers, would demand answers, but he wasn’t a monster. There were cups on the nightstand, thin paper ones next to a plastic pitcher of what was by now room temperature water, and Shouta filled one as the boy struggled to find words. Midoriya’s eyes widened as Shouta made a gesture for the boy to hush and offered up the water.

Shouta watched for only a moment as Midoriya awkwardly struggled to free his injured arms, the bulky bandages making each moment sloppy and ineffective, before impatience won out and he reached out to help the boy sit up and brought the cup to his face.

An embarrassed flush rose across Midoriya’s face but he obediently drank and when he spoke again, his voice still little more than a murmur as he tried not to wake his friends, it was clearer, less rough. “M-Mr. Aizawa, what are you doing here?”

“Contemplating murder.” He was only being honest, but perhaps that was too much truth, judging by how wide Midoriya’s eyes grew. “Drink more.” He insisted, urging the cup back to Midoriya’s face. The boy hastened to obey, as though partially worried Shouta had meant his murder and could stave it off with proper behavior. Shouta held the cup to Midoriya’s lips until the cup was drained and the boy’s expression had muted itself from outright panic into a more general embarrassment.

They had been quiet, at least relatively so, but Shouta hadn’t missed the slight rustle of sheets from behind him. He wasn’t at all surprised to see Todoroki’s heterochromatic gaze peering out at him over the mountain of blankets. Of course the boy was a light sleeper.

And of course that gaze didn’t waver as it took in the sight of Shouta and Midoriya, face indecipherable. He was a bit like a cat, the youngest Todoroki. Shouta might have felt vaguely honored if the boy had greeted him with a slow blink. Instead, the boy’s calm expression turned into one of bewilderment as Shouta stalked over to the table and grabbed another cup. “Sit up. Can you hold this?” Todoroki was probably just as parched as Midoriya, maybe even more so if he’d used his fire side and dehydrated himself.

Todoroki had risen slowly, seemingly unconcerned with the way the sloppily placed blankets fell all around him, and he obediently took the cup Shouta had thrust at him with only a slight hesitance. He seemed unused to acts of care, judging by the contemplative, too-long look he cast at the cup before finally drinking from it. Shouta wondered then, for the first time, why Endeavor wasn’t at the hospital, overseeing his son’s care.

Even with the cleanup still ongoing, no one would have blamed the number two for being at his son’s side and the fact that he wasn’t at least guarding the door instead of Hawks was enough for Shouta to add another strike against the other hero.

One more and Endeavor would replace Hawks as number two on his list, just trailing All Might.

“All of it.” Shouta’s voice was sharp, even in its near whisper, and Todoroki hastily brought the cup back to his mouth to swallow the rest of the tepid drink.

On the bed just beyond, Iida was finally stirring. His medication must have been stronger, or perhaps the boy was naturally more groggy than his counterparts, as it took him several long seconds before realization as to who exactly was in the room with them hit him full force.

“Sir!” Iida shot up before Shouta could hiss at him to wait. A gasp of pain erupted unbidden from the boy’s lips and he was falling back onto the hospital bed nearly as quickly as he had risen, unable to properly balance his too heavy arm in his groggy state.

“You’re injured.” Shouta’s voice was a hiss of anger as he stormed towards Iida and helped him back up, slowly, mindful of his student’s injuries in a way the idiot boy obviously wasn’t. Iida still winced, as though something was pulling and Shouta had to squash down the illogical urge to check for stitches on his student’s torso. Hawks wasn’t stupid enough not to have mentioned all the boys’ major wounds.

“Mr. Aizawa –“

Iida was persistent, as usual but Shouta shut him up with a singe raised finger. “You will drink something first.” The words were nothing more than a command and he didn’t wait for any response before turning and marching back to the water pitcher.

It was nearly halfway empty now; he would have to fetch a nurse to request more. Once the sleep-weary hoarseness had been chased from his students’ voices, he expected long, clear answers and they would undoubtedly need water during the questioning. That could wait a few more seconds though, as Shouta made quick work of filling the final cup and marching back to Iida.

He didn’t let the boy take the cup and pointedly ignored the red flush that crossed Iida’s face as Shouta held it up for him. Embarrassment was an illogical emotion when one needed help. Hizashi – and Nemuri too in the few rare moments Hizashi had left Shouta’s side -  had done their fair share of basic actions Shouta had been unable to those first few days following the USJ and Shouta had done his fair share of rudimentary caregiving when it had been his husband and best friend who had wound up injured. It was a natural part of heroics, relying on others. And if Iida kept being reckless, or kept being friends with Midoriya, he would have to get used to it.

Iida didn’t need to be encouraged to drink all of the cup – he drained it within seconds, the flush never quite leaving his face and his eyes never quite catching Shouta’s. Shouta stared for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should pour Iida another glass just to watch the boy squirm a few seconds longer, before his desire for answers outweighed his pettiness.

He set the cup down before sweeping all three boys with a commanding glare. “I do not want platitudes, I do not want sugarcoating, you will tell me everything, in order from the beginning, that happened. You will withhold nothing, you will lie about nothing, and by the end of your story, I will decide whether or not to expel any of you. Do you understand?” A chorus of nods, Midoriya’s frantic, Iida’s passionate, Todoroki’s withdrawn and almost – was the youngest Todoroki seriously pouting? Perhaps a more gracious teacher would refer to it as a sulk, but it amounted the same in Shouta’s mind. He never seen the boy act quite so much his age.

“Good. Now speak.” And so, the boys did. Iida detailed running from Manual, too tempted with his thirst for revenge to stay with Manual even as the world fell apart around him, only to be confronted by a man he had no chance of surviving. Midoriya spoke about being brought to Hosu, not sure why, and staying in the hotel until it began collapsing around him; how he had carried two children to safety but was drawn away from it by the calling of Iida’s name. How he had taken off into the streets, with permission from Manual; how he came face to face with a monster with a man’s face, ready to pounce on one his closest friends. Todoroki spoke of fighting alongside his father, instructed to focus only on smothering fires with his ice and directing people out of harms way; of immediately disobeying every order his father had given him the moment a location drop came from Midoriya, of sprinting into dark alleys and sweeping through with fire just before the Hero Killer attacked.

All three spoke of the battle, the frantic ways they fought against the onslaught from the Hero Killer. Iida spoke of powerlessness, Todoroki of wrath, Midoriya of terror. They spoke about yelling at each other, encouragements, information, and frustrations all together. They spoke about falling and rising and falling again and then –

Then Midoriya spoke of blue flames and scars, and a heroic villain, both savior and condemnation. Of being rescued and abandoned at once; of summoning just enough bravery to look over the Hero Killer’s broken body just to find the man gone. Then he spoke of red wings and the fastest hero arriving nearly too late, and of collapsing afterwards.

Todoroki spoke then, of Hawks picking up Midoriya, of other heroes collecting Iida and himself – how he was the only one able to walk still – while more collected Native, still collapsed against a wall, and apprehended the fallen Hero Killer. Of being brought to the hospital and the flurry of tests and attention that had followed.

Shouta nearly stopped them there, but the boys continued. They spoke about the chief of police, how Hawks had tried to beat the man away, how the man was appeased only by the information on the mysterious man and how they had all fallen back asleep once Hawks had covered them up.

Of course it had been Hawks who had made those abysmal nests. What was clear amidst the catastrophic clusterfuck that was the boys’ story, was how wholly unprepared Hawks had been for children. That and how several officers and heroes needed their licenses revoked yesterday. And that, on the off chance that Shouta couldn’t convince Nezu to go after Manual’s license, that man and his entire agency would never so much as breathe near one of his students, let alone take them on an internship.

Shouta did not think, coming into the hospital room and finally hearing the full story, that he would become less angry with Hawks but somehow, someway that Shouta couldn’t even fathom making a logical explanation from, the brat had become one of the less irresponsible heroes. Still foolish and unprepared and liable to get his throat ripped out if he so much as toed the line again in the near future, but not nearly as incompetent as others.

The police chief had questioned three minor children, threatened them with criminal punishment for what would amount to self defense in any court, Manual had lost one child and given another permission to track them down in the midst of a brutal attack, and Endeavor still hadn’t shown up to check up on his youngest child.

Hell, some upstart new villain with an overpowered quirk and apparent ties to the League of Villains had shown more concern and responsibility for the three boys in a single instance and he had nearly fried them.

Shouta had several phone calls to make and several men to maim.

But first he had to deal with three silent boys staring up at him, their expressions varying mixtures of concern, fear, and admirable defiance.

He was beyond furious with them, as well, but he wasn’t so old that he had forgotten what being a student was like and he would probably die with the sting of Oboro’s death still smarting in his chest. Had any of them gone after the Hero Killer for glory and fame, he would have had them thrown out without a second glance; it would have been illogical to do anything less and he wasn’t in the habit of keeping students that would only get themselves killed within the year. But none of the boys – not even Iida, who had easily the worst reason for engaging with the Hero Killer – had gone after Stain for anything resembling glory.

“I am not going to expel you,” he told them finally, just a little begrudgingly, and gave them several seconds to bask in the pure relief that had settled in with his words, before adding, “this time. You three were reckless and acted without thinking – that type of behavior will get you killed. If any one of you step so much as a single toe out of line again, I will have you expelled before you can even blink. Do you understand?” Nods all around. Shouta took an extra moment to stare them down, ensuring that the words would go as deeply as he could possibly get them.

He had been contemplating another warning – there was a defiant gleam in Todoroki’s eye that he knew he needed to stomp down before it grew into a wildfire of rebellion and an earnest look in Midoriya’s that he didn’t trust for a single moment – when a small commotion happened outside the door.

He was in front of their beds within an instant, motioning the boys to stay in place with one hand while another gripped tight on his scarf.

It hadn’t seemed like the scarred villain had any interest in going after the boys, but if he had been told to eliminate witnesses, there was every chance a monster lay on the other side of the door. Shouta would kill before allowing something to happen to his students, gladly and willfully. He would strike at the barest hint of flames –

But it wasn’t a villain who pulled the door open, but a deceptively calm looking Chief Tsuragamae with several new nicks in his uniform. “Sorry to disturb.” the man’s voice was unflappingly, aggravatingly smooth even as he tried and failed to pull his shoulder outside the steely grip of Hawks who had followed after the chief with a furious expression on his face. Shouta wouldn’t have been surprised if it was only the chief’s rank that kept him from being skewered with several feathers.

“If you came to question my students about Stain again –“ Shouta began, the promise of death clear in the near growl of his low voice.

“This isn’t about that,” the chief raised a dismissive hand that only served to rankle Shouta even more. The man shouldn’t have come back for anything less than word that the League of Villains was attacking again. Shouta could think of nothing else that couldn’t have waited until morning. “It’s about something else entirely, I’m afraid.” The chief’s eyes, still calm, fell on something behind Shouta and he risked just a quick twist of his neck to see which boy Tsurgamae’s attention had fallen on.

Something ugly reared in Shouta’s stomach when he realized it was Midoriya, wide-eyed and still far too-small looking. Of course it was Midoriya. “An officer in charge of an evacuation point came into the office not ten minutes ago, rather panicked about a teen he had seen run away after depositing two children in front of the center.” Shouta had no idea what that had to do with anything; Midoriya had already explained to him that he had rescued two children, certainly the chief would have been given the same information and none of it was worth barging into a hospital wing for the second time in one day.

But Midoriya looked suddenly panicked, as though there was something more to the story and Shouta’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. What could have been left out?

He would have dragged the answers from his student himself, had the police chief not continued. “He had some interesting concerns, ones I had certainly not considered, and it was no small feat to convince him to keep them to himself, for the time being, woof. And I have no doubt that several of my officers heard them as well, the man wasn’t exactly quiet.” The chief was going on, without saying anything substantial. And yet, the blood seemed to drain from Midoriya’s face as though he knew exactly what the chief was talking about.

Shouta hated being kept out of the loop. Especially when one of his students was involved.

“Does this story have a point? Because I’m not above dragging you out of here if you only came down to give the kid a hard time again.” There was a low, casual threat to Hawks’ words and the grip of his fingers on the police chief couldn’t have been anything less than painful. Still, the police chief looked entirely unruffled. Shouta might have admired it, if he wasn’t feeling the exact same way as Hawks.

“Allow me to be frank, as I think time to be of the essence and I have no guarantee that if one officer has this suspicion, others do not, woof. Mr. Midoriya, are you an omega?”

Almost all thoughts drained from Shouta’s mind as he whipped around to face Midoriya just in time to watch the boy’s face completely crumble, leaving behind only two very heartfelt words.

Fucking hell.