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Even before he met his teacher, Midoriya had come up with dozens of questions about his hero persona.
They were simple things, like why he didn’t use martial arts to fight, why he used a capture weapon and, most importantly, why his hero outfit was so fucking ugly.
Eraserhead was Midoriya’s favourite hero, without a doubt. The phase of All Might had gone down the drain the second he was told he was quirkless.
That was why it was all that more frustrating that the underground hero had an honest to god shit taste in clothes.
Midoriya had wrinkled his nose in disgust the moment he was in the vague vicinity of his teacher, he could practically smell the bad design choices as soon as he entered the room.
He slightly understood the purpose of the baggy trousers and shirt; it hid his strength, but it also made it a ton easier to get caught on things and the black colouring would make it a lot more difficult to realise how much he’d bled.
His capture weapon was a light gray, which was nice and all, but seeing as the only reason the rest of his outfit had a colour palette of black, dark grey and even more black was because he worked in the dark, using an almost white weapon sort of destroyed the point.
His goggles were the worst. Yellow, in Midoriya’s opinion (The only correct opinion on the matter) was the most revolting colour in existence. It was bright, had given him away many times in the past when attempting to hide, and was gross to look at.
All these things in Midoriya’s mind built up day after day as he was exposed to the fashion disaster that was his favourite hero.
There were times during homeroom where the student had to hold himself back from gagging as he had looked up and seen.. that sin against clothes that the man he looked up to was dressed in.
Some days he wondered if the hero did it to punish him, as a response to that one time (closer to five) that he’d accidentally spilled the hero’s coffee.. into his mouth.. and swallowed.
(He hadn’t drunk it, as the teacher had accused, it was merely a series of events that lead to Aizawa having no coffee and Midoriya having a caffeine rush for the rest of the day.)
However, Midoriya had had enough. He was going to ask the hero why he had such a eyesore of an outfit, once and for all.
There was a field trip coming up, and due to the odd number of the class, he was, without a doubt, going to be paired with the teacher when it came to partnering up.
When he’d rescued that girl, Uraraka, during the entrance exams, he’d hoped they might become friends. That hope was crumpled into a little ball, thrown into a bin and subsequently been burned to ash in a house fire.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, Midoriya just didn’t really understand how to interact with people, and had smiled blankly at her for a solid five minutes instead of responding to a question. Like the neurotypical scum she was, she took it as a sign he hated her.
It wasn’t unexpected that he sat by himself on the couch there, he was used to it; being quirkless was like having a huge sign that read:
“If you value your social status that the fuck away from me. I will cough on you if you sit next to me and infect you with quirklessness.”
Thankfully, Midoriya hated roughly all people because they exist.
The journey wasn’t long, but it was far from short, and, staring at the dauntingly large dome in front of him, Midoriya wished it had taken more time.
Once they’d been herded inside, he had to bite his tongue to restrain from insulting his teacher to his face.It had taken too much time for him to say something, and now he could barely hold himself back.
Thirteen was giving a speech about quirk use and, as he lacked one, he took the chance to glare at the outfit that had caused him so much pain.
It seemed uglier than before, the top was loose in the wrong places and the trousers were an eternal trip hazard. And those goggles. Those mother fucking goggles.
Midoriya squinted at them, wishing more than ever he had a quirk that could destroy things so he could do the world a favour and remove the yellow /things from existence.
There was, fortunately, a distraction that drew his eyes away from the car crash of textile design.
Unfortunately, the distraction was the arrival of (slightly more than) several criminals that were most likely there to kill them.
Still, Midoriya couldn’t help but thank the deities for drawing his eyes away from the outfit™.
The second he got permission, he jumped into the fight.
When Midoriya woke up, he nearly forced himself back into unconsciousness as soon as he realised Aizawa was awake in the bed opposite to him.
He attempted to silently sit up so he could make an undetected escape from the hellhole that he was in.
He failed, miserably. It was almost laughable. The second he shifted, Aizawa had shot upright, eyes wide.
“You’re awake.”
Midoriya blinked slowly, wondering if his teacher would still be able to see him if he stayed still. Unfortunately, Aizawa wasn’t a predator in one of the nature documentaries and continued to look at him.
“Yes.” The student responded awkwardly.
His teacher looked to the side and cleared his throat.
“I.. I, firstly, would like to apologise for letting you get this hurt. Secondly, I’m pretty sure you’ve been wanting to tell me something for a while now.. There’s no time like the present?”
The unsure tone of the hero’s voice immediately reduced Midoriya’s nerves, just a bit.
“Uhm.. I-” He cut himself off before clearing his throat.
“W-well, it wasn’t your fault I got hurt, so please don’t blame yourself and.. A-are you really sure you want to know what I want to say?”
Aizawa nodded.
It was Midoriya’s turn to look to the side.
“It’s just..” He bit his lip before deciding to just go for it.
“Your hero outfit, okay? It’s really, really ugly, and it makes no sense and honestly, you should sue the people who made it because I can barely look at it without recoiling!
It doesn’t make sense for you to wear all black and then have a white capture weapon, then there’s your goggles!”
Midoriya stopped for breath.
Aizawa frowned and glanced defensively at the goggles on his bedside table.
“What’s wrong with my goggles?”
The student pinched his brow.
“Everything, okay?! The design looks as if a three year old made it, and of all colours to choose, you picked yellow?!”
A weight was lifted off of his shoulders as he finished his sentence. He’d waited far too long to say the truth, and it showed.
“I don’t see anything wrong with the design, one of my friends when I was your age designed it, and yellow was his favourite colour.”
“So it’s sentimental?”
“Yes.”
Midoriya felt a hint of pity, but accidentally looked at the goggles and shuddered.
“Should’ve picked your friends better.” He sniffed.
Aizawa shrugged.
“Probably.”