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There's a little-known fact about speed-type quirks that no one talks about. Mostly because no one’s aware of it, even among the speedsters. It comes on so gradually that they don’t notice it’s happening at all.
Back when quirks first appeared, those who were granted power had to adapt to these new abilities. Their quirks had terrible disadvantages for their bodies, and thus, their bodies had to compensate. Fire users are able to withstand extreme heat. Ice users can resist the freezing cold. If a person’s quirk allows them to swim deep into the ocean, or fly high into the sky, they tend to have little to no trouble with altitude sickness. More recently, however, there have been a few cases where the body doesn’t adapt to its quirk. This usually occurs when two people with very different quirks have children. The poor child gains the quirk of one parent, but the body takes on the compensatory traits of the other.
All that being said, while most quirks needed physical attributes to contest their power, there were some that required the enhancement of mental abilities. This brings us back to Speedsters.
You see, the human body is only meant to go so fast, and when it exceeds that limit, the world zips by in a blur. So those with speed-type quirks gain the ability to process information faster than they could blink. If they weren’t able to do this, the hero Ingenium and those like him would be known as clumsy fools who crash into literally every wall that blocked their path. The adjustment of the mind is gradual, though. And, as stated before, speedsters are rarely aware that it happens at all.
But if one were to obtain the power of great speed suddenly, and forced themself to adapt to it quickly, they are more likely to notice the change.
It’s a surreal thing, thinking faster than the speed of light. If you’re not careful, you can lose yourself in the nearly imperceptible passage of time. Luckily, the effects of the mental acceleration only last while the quirk is active.
At least, that’s how it should work.
But for Midoriya Izuku, whose mind was already fast, to begin with, the ability would flick off and on without the use of his quirk. It would activate randomly, turning twenty-five milliseconds into four seconds. He could be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly a single syllable would take longer to say than a seven-word sentence. Food took longer to cook. People walked so slowly. And when it came to sleeping? Well, Izuku had been needing less of that with every passing night. As he woke up earlier and earlier, Izuku chose to use his extra time to study, since he wasn’t allowed to leave the dorm after curfew and he didn’t want to risk waking his friends. It was a good system until he ran out of schoolwork to do.
Then he started cleaning the dorm. Then he organized the pantry. At one point he rearranged the furniture. And, while all of this was happening, he also tried to focus on making himself process time at a normal rate.
Izuku wasn’t stupid. He’d had plenty of time to think about it. Something about being able to move quickly had changed his perception of time. It was really helpful in a fight, and while running around, but any other time it was as annoying as he was. If not moreso.
One night, out of desperation, Izuku stepped out onto his balcony, trying to get away from everything for a minute. He slid open his glass door, stepped barefoot onto the cold cement, and felt the chilly night air nip at his skin. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His hands grasped the rail and he leaned over it. Another breath. He wished he could go out and lie on the grass. Or sit in a tree. Hell, he’d even take sitting in the doorway if it meant he got to watch as the wind whipped around the flora outside. But there was an alarm on the doors now (thanks to him and Kacchan) and Aizawa would be out of his room and scolding him before he could enjoy the little moment of freedom he yearned for so desperately.
With a sigh, Izuku looked up at the sky. There were a few clouds here and there, little whisps that trailed after the fleeing wind. But what Izuku noticed was the moon and stars. They barely moved, even before his problem started. They were always constant. And no matter how long he gazed upon them, he didn’t feel like he was losing himself to the darkness.
So the following night, he went onto his balcony again. And again the next night. And the next. And the next. It became a routine. Go to sleep. Wake up. Do any work he could. Maybe take a nap and wake again. Go outside. Stay there forever.
He had no idea how long he spent out there. How many days it had been since his perception of time had first been altered. He was just glad he had somewhere to go. Still, he wished he could go out into the open. Lie down in the middle of a field and have his entire vision filled with the stars twinkling against the dark night sky.
Then, one day, Izuku learned that the door to the roof wasn’t alarmed. Why hadn’t he thought of that before!? Sure, it wasn’t the grassy field he dreamed of, but it was better than his balcony! So that night, instead of going out on his balcony, he quietly tiptoed up the four flights of stairs to the roof. When he pushed open the door, cool air rushed through him, taking his breath away for a brief moment. He took one step forward. Then another. And he looked up.
It was just as he’d dreamt it would be. The stars were so beautiful. So bright. And they weren’t expected to change. Izuku smiled.
It’s no mystery what his nights were like after that. And soon enough, he found the perfect spot to lie in to get the maximum amount of enjoyment out of his extra time.
Sometimes, as he lay there, relaxing under the night sky, Izuku’s breathing would slow, his eyelids would droop, and he’d fall asleep. He’d wake up just as the sun was beginning to brighten up the sky and then have to rush back to his room to get ready for the day - which was something he hadn’t had to do in a while.
It was easier to keep time straight in his mind when there were other people around. When people were talking, he could focus on the conversation. Taking notes in class helped, too. It was much easier than anything else he’d tried, though he still wanted to find a way to deal with it when he was alone.
“I don’t know how long you’ve been up here, kid,” a deep, monotone voice interrupted Izuku’s thoughts one night, “but I think it’s time to come inside.”
Izuku opened his eyes lazily, blinking up at his teacher’s silhouette. Behind the man, the sky was dark grey as storm clouds gathered threateningly overhead.
“It’s going to rain,” Aizawa drawled on. “Get inside before you catch a cold.”
“I still have time,” Izuku mumbled, eyes closing again. He wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
“Do you have time to dodge a lightning bolt?”
“I’m not going to be struck by lightning.”
“And how do you know you won’t?”
“How do you know I will?” Izuku opened his eyes again. His eyes were met with an exasperated look. He sighed and sat up. “Lightning takes the shortest route it can find to reach the ground, right?” He asked, continuing before an answer could be given. “Well, when I’m laying down, the ledges around us are higher than me. Plus, we have a lightning rod right over there.” he jabbed a thumb at the metal spike on the roof. Aizawa’s eyes followed the line, catching a glint of light on the rod. “Honestly, sensei? You’re in more danger here than I am.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Midoriya, will you please ju . . .”
Time slowed, making the man’s sentence become exponentially delayed. A flash of light sparked in the background, drawing Izuku’s eyes away from his teacher. If anyone were to ask him how he knew where the lightning was aiming to strike, Izuku wouldn’t be able to say. And somehow he knew he’d never be able to do what he did next again. He acted on instinct, moving without thinking as three words ripped themselves out of his mouth.
“Sensei, watch out!” He shouted as he leaped up, shoving Aizawa to the ground right before a bolt of electricity reached the spot the man had been milliseconds ago.
Right before it reached the spot where Izuku now was.
Before it hit Izuku.
Without the power of speed, Aizawa had to process what happened after the fact. A fraction of a moment before he’d been forced down, Midoriya’s eyes went wide with fear. Then, in a blur of neon green, the kid moved. It all happened so fast, Shouta couldn’t tell if the thunderous sound he heard came before, during, or after they moved. It was so loud. Like someone had taken two cymbals and crashed them together right next to his ear, shaking the air around them.
Shouta felt a dull pain along his body as he hit the ground and the air was expelled from his lungs. For a moment, all he could do was lay there, gasping for breath with his face pressed against the roof’s coarse surface. As soon as he could breathe again, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his eyes trailing over to his student automatically. He nearly choked on air when he caught sight of the teen laying, unmoving, on his side a few feet away, his back facing Shouta. Clothes singed. Body smoking.
“MIDORIYA!” Another thunderous crash drowned out Shouta’s cry as lightning struck the rod on another one of the Heights Alliance buildings. He scrambled over to Midoriya and rolled him onto his back. He put a hand on Midoriya’s chest and bent down so his ear was near the teen’s face, listening for breathing. Nothing. He grabbed Midoriya’s wrist and checked for a pulse. Again, nothing. “Dammit, Midoriya,” Shouta growled as he moved to kneel next to the teen’s neck and shoulder, placing his hands in the center of Midoriya’s chest so he could begin chest compressions. How many times did he have to teach this kid that him becoming a casualty was just as bad as failing to save someone?
Shouta locked his elbows, keeping his arms straight, and positioned his shoulders above his hands. He began pushing down on Midoriya’s chest, pumping rhythmically to simulate a heartbeat. He couldn’t just rely on the strength in his arms. He was helping Midoriya’s heart pump blood throughout the body, helping spread oxygen to his organs. So he had to put all his body weight into it.
He should have called for help first. Recovery Girl needed to be contacted so she could help arrange for Midoriya to be taken to a hospital. But it was too late now. He had to keep the steady rhythm going. Stopping for even one breath could mean losing his student for good. All Shouta could do was keep up the chest compressions and hope someone would wander up to the roof. The thunder was so loud, there was no way everyone slept through it, no matter how tired they were.
Shouta became vaguely aware that it had started raining. His hair was soaking wet and it clung to his face and neck. He could feel raindrops hitting the back of his neck, slipping past his capture scarf and sliding down his back.
Midoriya’s body . . .
Shouta shook his head. There was a protocol in place for when the teachers woke up in the middle of the night due to a sound, even if it could be explained away. First, each teacher would go through their dorms and make sure they had all their students. Then they’d contact Nedzu to report if everyone was accounted for, or if someone was missing or hurt. Since Shouta couldn’t check on his kids or call in to report, they’d know something was wrong in the 1-A dorm. Someone would come over. All Shouta had to do was wait and keep up the beat.
A curse fell out of Shouta’s mouth alongside a breath. He felt so frustrated with himself. Midoriya was right. Shouta had been the one in danger up there. And now, because of him, Midoriya was . . .
He was . . .
“Shouta!”
A wave of relief washed over him as his best friend burst through the door to the roof and called out his name. But he didn’t let that falter him. He kept the rhythm. He kept the beat. He heard Hizashi’s footsteps rush over to them, sliding to a kneeling position on Midoriya’s other side.
“Sho, let me take over!” Hizashi ordered. “You go get help!”
Shouta nodded and they made the switch. He didn’t let himself take even a short break before running to the edge of the roof and leaping off it to reach the ground faster, using his scarf to prevent injuring himself when he landed. Two of Recovery Girl’s bots were already there with a stretcher and Youthful Heroine was right there beside them.
“Aizawa-kun! What-?” The woman started to say but Shouta cut her off.
“Midoriya’s on the roof! He was struck by lightning! He’s not breathing and he doesn’t have a pulse!”
After he said that, the world around him started moving at hyperspeed. There was nothing more he could do for Midoriya. Not that he had the energy. All he could do was pray for the teen to wake up. The adrenalin rush he got from seeing his student’s body had faded away and now he was too tired to do anything more. He must have looked like a wreck because at some point someone had the audacity to hug him. And it wasn’t a short hug either. The person wrapped their bony arms around him, pulled his face into their chest, and murmured encouragement just loud enough for Shouta to hear over the roar of the storm.
Shouta wasn’t one to cry very often. He’d seen terrible things happen to people. He held them as the light faded from their eyes. He’d seen young, promising people lose everything in the blink of an eye. Some of them were people he knew. Some were heroes. Others were trying to be heroes. But this was different. Shouta knew it was different. Because-
“This is all my fault,” Shouta blurted as tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain on his cheeks.
“Aizawa-kun,” All Might pulled away, placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders so he could look him in the eye. “You couldn’t know that lightning was going to strike him. And even if you did, how could you have stopped it?” Shouta drew breath to argue with the former hero, but All Might wasn’t done. “You’re a man of logic, Aizawa. Surely you can see-”
“That bolt was coming for me!” Shouta slapped the blond’s hands away and took a step back. “It was me who was going to get hit but Midoriya pushed me out of the way!” Shouta expected the other man to be angry after hearing that, but after the initial shock, the look on All Might’s face was just . . . sad.
“My boy,” All Might muttered quietly to himself. “Aizawa, that doesn’t make it your fault. You know Young Midoriya. He’s a hero. Always ready to save a life.”
Shouta was about to snap back something along the lines of, ‘he can’t be a hero if he can’t protect himself,’ but didn’t. Midoriya had been fast enough to see the lightning, smart enough to know where it was going, and brave enough to get Shouta out of the way. Just because he couldn’t get himself out of the way too didn’t mean he wasn’t a hero. Shouta, of all people, shouldn’t have even thought about dishonoring the teen like that.
“Come, Aizawa,” All Might once again put a hand on Shouta’s shoulder. “Let’s go after Midoriya to the hospital.”
“But . . . my students,” Shouta half-heartedly tried to argue.
“We’ve already checked on them for you. They’re all fine, aside from Midoriya.”
“But-”
“Aizawa, look,” All Might said, sounding a bit exasperated. “Midoriya is the only one who’s hurt. Everyone else is fine. Sure, some of them are a little shaken up from being startled awake, but they’re not in any danger. Midoriya, on the other hand . . .” he faltered and Shouta could see he was struggnling to remain calm for his younger colleague. “His fate is unknown. I want to be there so I can be among the first to know what happens to him. And I know you want to be there, too. So, are you coming or not?”
Shouta was too tired to contradict him. But, “If you want to see him so badly, why are you still here?”
All Might shrugged. “Yamada went with them in the ambulance. And you looked like you needed a hug.” The ghost of a smile appeared on the older man’s face. “Any more questions?”
“No,” Shouta couldn’t return the smile. “Let’s go.”
The journey to the hospital was endured in complete silence, which Shouta was very appreciative of. He couldn’t hold a conversation, even if he wanted to. At some point, Shouta’s mind must have disconnected from reality because one minute he was sitting in a car he couldn’t remember the color or make of and the next he was in a waiting room with Hizashi and All Might.
“Where’s Midoriya?”
Both blonds stiffened when he spoke and he wondered how long they’d been there, waiting for news of their student. Or maybe they’d already gotten the news and were trying to process it.
“Aizawa, Yamada already told us everything he knows,” All Might said, his voice strained with the emotions he was trying to hold back. “Believe me, I want to see the boy, too. But we have to wait. Just be patient.”
So Midoriya wasn’t dead. Yet. Shouta turned to his friend. “What about his mom?”
“Like I said,” Hizashi looked more than a little distraught. “She’s coming as fast as she can.”
“Oh,” Shouta went silent again. A few moments later he felt someone nudge his shoulder. He looked up to see Hizashi waving some cash in his face.
“C’mon, Sho,” he said with a forced smile. “Why don’t we raid the vending machine?”
Under normal circumstances, Shouta would refuse his friend’s invitation, saying that there wouldn’t be anything good and it’s all overpriced and half the time whatever you buy will get stuck and you’ll have to buy something else in hopes that it’ll knock your first purchase down when it falls. And what if that one gets stuck, too? Are you supposed to buy another second-rate, overpriced treat? How long before you give up entirely? But Shouta wasn’t feeling like himself at that moment, so instead, he simply nodded and let Hizashi lead him into the hall. The Voice Hero fed the devil machine a certain amount of money and pressed a random letter and number. A big spring rotated, pushing a bag of skittles off the shelf. It got stuck almost immediately. Shouta stared at it, numbly.
“How’re ya doin’, Sho?” Hizashi asked after a minute, seemingly unbothered by his terrible luck. Shouta shrugged, earning a sigh from his friend. “I know Midoriya was the one who got hurt and that you’re most likely fine, physically,” he rambled in an argumentative tone, “But- Dammit, you have no idea how scared you looked up on that roof.” Hizashi’s voice faltered and Shouta tore his eyes away from the traitorous bag of sweets to look at his friend, whose hair had been freed from its gel prison by the rain and was now cascading down his shoulders. He could tell Hizashi was fighting to keep his emotions in check. Shouta felt there was a proper response he was supposed to give, but couldn’t quite identify what that was.
“I’ll be fine,” he decided to say. The furious look he got from Hizashi told him that answer was incorrect.
“‘I’ll be fine’!?” He repeated. “Really!? That’s your response!?”
“It’s the truth,” Shouta shrugged again.
“No,” Hizashi shook his head. “I refuse to believe that. The last time I saw you that scared was right before Fugo-”
Shouta slammed an open palm over his friend’s mouth so hard the back of his head banged against the wall.
“Don’t,” Shouta warned. “Just don’t.”
Three years ago one of Shouta’s students, a boy by the name of Fugoku, was killed while doing a patrol with his teacher. The kid was bullheaded and was always arguing with Shouta about one thing or another. The man had thought that if he brought Fugoku out into the field and showed him that running in guns blazing wasn’t the best plan of action, maybe the kid would stop fighting him on everything. But when they came across a villain they weren’t equipped to deal with in the middle of committing a crime, Fugoku didn’t hesitate to try and stop them.
Hizashi pried Shouta’s hand off his mouth. “You didn’t come back to work for two weeks after he died! What do we tell your students if Midoriya doesn’t-?”
Shouta, filled with rage, punched his friend in the nose, a feeling of satisfaction coming over him as Hizashi’s skull clacked against the wall again. Hizashi cried out in pain as one of his hands flew to his face and covered his nose. Red eyes glared hatred before a fist drove itself into Shouta’s stomach, knocking the air out of him. Gasping for breath, Shouta stumbled backward into the opposite wall. Before he had a chance to recover, he saw Hizashi, blood cascading down his face, push himself forward, take two steps toward him, and throw a punch aimed at Shouta’s eye. Reflexively, Shouta squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.
But Hizashi’s fist never made contact.
Warily, Shouta opened his eyes and immediately gulped. Hizashi’s clenched fist was no more than an inch away, held back by a surprisingly strong bony hand.
“What the hell is going on here?”
All Might’s voice was low and threatening. Hizashi yanked his arm out of the man’s grasped and dragged it across his face in a feeble attempt to clean up the blood flowing from his nose.
“Nothing,” he spat. All Might looked at Shouta, but he just shook his head. The oldest of the men sighed and shook his head. He drew breath to speak when a woman in her late thirties called out,
“Midoriya?"
The three men paused to look at each other. Then, with a nod from all of them, they went over to gather around the woman. They’d discuss this later.
After giving Hizashi and Shouta a concerned look, and offering Hizashi a tissue that he accepted gratefully, the woman told them, “He’s stable.” She paused while they all breathed a sigh of relief. “There doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes.”
“Can we see him?” All Might asked calmly. The woman nodded.
“He’s in room 204. Tsuiko will show you the way,” she gestured to a man in nurse scrubs who waved at them.
“Thanks,” All might bowed to the two hospital workers in turn and the three heroes followed Tsuiko to Midoriya’s room. As soon as green curls could be seen, Shouta pushed past his companions and rushed to his student’s side. The first thing he did was ignore all the indicators that said Midoriya was alive and press two fingers to the kid’s neck to check for a pulse. After confirming for himself that his student’s pulse was strong, he lowered his head, pressed an ear to Midoriya’s chest, and closed his eyes as he listened for breathing. Upon hearing the familiar whoosh as his student’s lungs drew oxygen in and forced carbon dioxide out, Shouta released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and felt the tension in his shoulders ease up a bit. With a quiet sigh of relief, the man moved away from his kid, but only as far as the nearest chair. Behind him, the two blonds shared a look before joining him by Midoriya’s side.
For the first time that night, Shouta felt like he had a chance to think. Unsurprisingly, the topic that was plaguing his mind was the teen lying before him at the moment. He had noticed Midoriya exhibiting odd behavior recently, but couldn’t figure out what had caused the change in the boy. One of these changes had Midoriya going to bed later than everyone else and waking up earlier than he should. He also picked up a habit of taking a nap during lunch instead of eating, which meant he was scarfing down his lunch as class was starting. Shouta had considered the possibility that Midoriya was suffering from nightmares, but the kid never looked as though he’d been losing sleep. In fact, he looked well-rested and there was no decline in the quality of his schoolwork. Because of this, Shouta had decided that, while he’d need to know what was going on someday, Midoriya seemed to be handling whatever-it-was well enough on his own.
Finding Midoriya up on the roof wasn’t as heart-stopping as Shouta feared it would be. Probably because he wasn’t doing anything that might suggest he was thinking of ending his life. No, Midoriya had looked rather peaceful up there before Shouta asked him to go back inside.
Shouta frowned. In his mind's eye, he replayed the moment the night went bad. He could see Midoriya’s eyes widen suddenly before calling something out. He’d spoken so quickly, Shouta still wasn’t quite sure what he said. Then the familiar neon green lights sparked across the teen’s body and Shouta was on the ground in the same instant as a bright flash and a deafening Cr-rack! as lightning struck. After that, Shouta was surprised that he was able to perform CPR, considering the mental state he was in. In all honesty, it was probably his years of hero work that took over for him then. It kept him from falling apart until Midoriya was no longer in his care.
“Aizawa, he’s alive. You don’t need to keep checking his pulse.”
Shouta blinked as All Might’s voice brought him back to the present. While he’d been thinking back through recent events, his hand had unconsciously grasped Midoriya’s wrist in such a way that his middle and index fingers were pressed against the kid’s pulse. With a start, Shouta released Midoriya’s wrist and pulled his hand into his chest. “Sorry,” he mumbled feeling embarrassed.
“It’s alright. I’m sure he won’t mind.” All Might placed a bony hand on Shouta’s shoulder. “In fact, if it’s helping you,” he gestured towards Midoriya’s hand. “Although, maybe you don’t need to hold on quite so tight.”
“Yeh,” Hizashi said, pinching his nose which was still bleeding. “For a seco’d there, I though’ you were gonna squeeze his ha’d off.”
Shouta peered around All Might to look at his best friend. Hizashi met his gaze and smiled good-naturedly. The tissue he’d received earlier was soaked with his blood. Shouta nodded gratefully at the man. He couldn’t imagine there were many people in the world who were willing to put up with him.
“Sorry,” he said again, gesturing at the injury. Hizashi rolled his eyes.
“I d’ow,” he said cockily. Shouta couldn’t help but grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw All Might nod approvingly.
“You don’t have to treat us like kids,” Shouta said accusatorily.
“I do when you two choose to fight like schoolboys instead of talking things out,” All Might countered, folding his arms across his chest like the self-righteous old man that he was.
“What were they fighting about?”
Three heads swiveled to face the bed where the voice came from. Midoriya looked back at them, groggily.
“Kid . . .” Shouta’s voice faded with the words he didn’t know how to say. He wanted to thank Midoriya for what he did, but he also wanted to admonish the teen for failing to protect himself. If it had been someone else that he saved, the experience might send them into shock or worse, and the likelihood that they would be able to remember and perform CPR was undoubtedly low. Shouta couldn’t tell which was more important. Which he should say first.
“It’s good to see you’re still with us, Young Midoriya,” All Might said, leaning over to grasp the teen’s shoulder emphatically. “You gave us quite the scare.”
Midoriya flushed red and he bowed his head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the former number one hero replied. “We’re just glad you’re okay.” A small smile touched Midoriya’s lips for a moment but quickly vanished as his attention turned to his teacher.
“Um, are you okay, sensei?” He asked in concern. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
Shouta sighed in disbelief. This kid, he thought, mentally shaking his head. Would it kill him to worry about himself once in a while? That was another thing he needed to talk to the kid about.
“I’m fine,” he said. Then a thought struck him and he asked, “What were you doing on the roof right before a storm?”
Shouta watched his student carefully. A thousand emotions flashed across Midoriya’s face, none of them staying long enough to be deciphered.
“I- er- uh, I was stargazing!” He exclaimed in a panic.
“Your eyes were closed,” Shouta countered, recalling a moment before he’d spoken on the roof where he’d peered down at the teen and wondered if he had chosen to sleep up there, not knowing that the forecast called for a thunderstorm.
“I was taking a nap.”
“You just said you were stargazing?”
“I was! But then I took a nap!”
“Outside?” Shouta questioned. “At night?”
“Ye-yeah,” Midoriya nodded. Shouta raised an eyebrow to show his disbelief. Midoriya coward away from him and averted his eyes from his teacher’s. Only to ctach sight of Hizashi and his bloody nose, and exclaim, “Mic-sensei! Are you okay?”
“Midoriya, what were you doing on the roof,” Shouta pressed, thinking that Midoriya was trying to change the subject.
“‘M fine,” Hizashi answered shortly. He must’ve had the same thought.
“Are you sure? That’s a lot of blood.”
“Midoriya, answer me,” Shouta’s tone was soft, but commanding. Midoriya ignored him in favor of looking around the room.
“Are there any tissues?”
“Midoriya, what were you doing on that roof!?” Shouta did his best not to shout, but the silence that surrounded them after he spoke told him he’d raised his voice more than he intended. Midoriya was looking at him again, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. For a second, Shouta feared the kid had stopped breathing. Then, as his eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip trembled, Midoriya took a shaky breath.
“I was- I couldn’t- I didn’t-”
It took a few seconds for Midoriya to find the right words, but once he did he explained everything to the three men, who listened intently as his captive audience. He told them about how he experienced the world after learning Full Cowling and his hypothesis about why it happened. He explained that he didn’t know how to turn the side effect off. How time would suddenly slow to a crawl without him activating his quirk. Shouta wasn’t sure he believed everything the kid was saying, but he knew when someone was lying to him and Midoriya was definitely not.
After recounting what he’d been going through, Midoriya went on to explain his actions on the roof. For the first time since he started talking about it, when he mentioned seeing the lightning bolt coming down in slow motion, he sounded grateful for the ability.
“Although,” Midoriya finished. “At the very least, I guess I should be glad time just slowed down. I don’t know what I’d do if it stopped entirely.”
“Ugh,” Shouta nodded in agreement. “That would be a nightmare.” He couldn’t even imagine how terrible it would be to have time freeze at random times. Or worse, if it completely stopped, keeping some poor soul trapped forever in a prison of eternal loneliness.
Shouta shook his head to dispel those thoughts. “Midoriya,” he said, “I’ll be honest, most of what you’ve said makes no sense. But . . .” He hesitated, grabbing Midoriya’s hand for comfort. “Thank you for saving me. I’m indebted to you.”
Shouta wasn’t known for his sincerity. It didn’t come naturally to him to express his emotions, verbally or otherwise. But he was grateful, and he did his best to convey that to his young hero.
Midoriya stared at his teacher, shocked by the sincerity in the man’s voice. Then he smiled brightly.
“No problem!”
Hizashi scoffed. He’d finally managed to halt the bleeding. “Yeah,” he said, sarcasm leaking into his voice as he gestured at the teen in his hospital bed. “I think there was a problem.”