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“He won’t talk to any of us, Mr. Aizawa.”
A bitter heaviness hangs in the air amongst the flock of teens hovering about Shouta’s hospital bed. Through his one good eye, Shouta takes in the sight of his bruised and bandaged students with a deep unease that only the drugs from his IV can dampen. Only five days had passed since the battle. Five days packed with surgeries, status reports, obituaries, and breaking news. All the while the faces coming in and out of his room began to lose what little color they had left.
Hope is failing. The pillars of society had begun to buckle beneath the failure of the heroes.
Only one person amongst his students and colleagues has yet to come and see him.
“Midoriya took on a lot of responsibility,” Shouta presses his fingers to the fresh bandages near his right eye. “How are his hands?”
“We don’t know. He won’t let us in, not even All Might,” Ochako mumbles. “We tried to get one of the nurses to let us in but he told them no visitors.”
“His hands are shitty. Everyone’s shitty,” Bakugou huffs from the doorway, determined to stand despite his injuries. “Why are you all whining to him anyway? Just let the nerd have a moment.”
“Because we’re worried,” Iida sighs, his glasses cracked along the left lens. “A lot’s happening but we need to make sure he’s okay. Maybe seeing Mr. Aizawa will help-”
“You don’t know that, four eyes,” Bakugou growls.
“Enough.” Shouta’s voice is hoarse, the dryness of his mouth heavy. An empty food tray and a glass of untouched water sit at his bedside table.
Eating hadn’t been coming naturally to him over the last four days, mostly because every time Toshinori or Hizashi came into his room they would use it as an excuse for them to pause for a moment and eat something. He would be up and about right now if the lot of them hadn’t come in to talk.
Eri is with Toshi. With such a large shadow hanging over him, she is a source of light in his world that Shouta can’t provide right now. But he can offer it to Midoriya. No doubt the boy needs it right now.
Izuku Midoriya… the problem child… the headstrong young hero who possesses a recklessness Shouta both dreads and admires…
With all eyes on him, Shouta offers the smallest smile to his tired students.
“You’re all right to be worried about your friend. I’ll be sure to talk to him before tomorrow.” He reaches over to his glass of water and brings it to his lips, making sure they see he’s doing a somewhat better job of taking care of himself than usual. “Go check on the other teachers. Make sure they eat, I mean it. The same goes for all of you.”
Silently the group leaves and Shouta stares down Bakugou until he peels himself off the wall and heads out into the hall. A ripple of dread pools in his empty stomach as they leave him, remembering the battleground, imagining the carnage that can still happen at any moment. His mind wanders to the prison break and the crumbled remains of Nemuri’s glasses clasped in Hizashi’s white hand from the day before and he lies back down, taking in a deep breath to steady himself.
What would he have said to himself all those years ago when he felt so powerless in the shadow of his loss? What could he tell Midoriya now when everything felt breakable? When his own mentor was buckling beneath the weight of the unthinkable?
Shouta waits until the evening to leave his room. He wants to avoid any possibility of his students eavesdropping on him and Midoriya, although he knows his presence won’t go unnoticed even at night. Supporting himself on his crutch, Shouta makes his way down the hall to the very last room and gives a firm knock against the wood door.
Silence.
“Midoriya, it’s your teacher. May I come in?”
A series of loud thumps can be heard from the other side. Shouta waits a moment, glancing behind him to check to see if anyone is in the hallway with him. Nothing but the soft hum of the dimmed fluorescent lights meets his ears and he gives Midoriya another moment before pushing open the door to let himself in.
In a hospital, there are no locked doors.
Midoriya’s friends were kind enough to respect their friend’s boundaries.
“Midoriya?”
A pair of apprehensive green eyes stare coldly as Shouta walks through the doorway only to melt at the sight of him. The last time they had seen each other was amongst the wreckage, too caught up in their own battles to process the damage that had been dealt. Shouta’s blank expression cracks as he takes in the bandages covering the boy’s arms and legs, lips twitching into a shaky frown. The two of them were so much more than teacher and student now-- they were survivors.
“Midoriya-”
“Sensei, I…” Midoriya’s voice shakes. “... can you see? Your foot… I… when he scratched you…” His eyes go wide, shaken by the memory. “Sensei I’m so sorry!”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“This is all my fault, I was supposed to protect you! Everyone got hurt, Kacchan, Shouto, how can I be a hero if I can’t even protect my own teacher!?” His lower lip trembles, wide eyes glistening. “Sensei I promise I’ll-”
“There you go. The problem child, emulating that self-sacrificial nature of your mentor.” Shouta shakes his head, the softest smile on his lips. “I’ll have to have a talk with All Might when this is all over. But for now, I’m going to practice on you.”
Midoriya’s mouth shuts tight. He watches as Shouta carefully moves toward him, resting heavily on his crutch as he makes his way over to his student’s bed and sits on the edge gently. Midoriya tries to take his crutch from him to help out but Shouta pushes his bandaged hands down. “You’ve helped enough. Truly, you’ve offered more help than someone your age ever could… or should have.”
Silence settles between them but it isn’t uncomfortable. They had learned to sit together months ago, teacher and student, feeling out the moment when spoken words fell short. There were things about Aizawa Midoriya would never understand and vice versa.
But they both know the struggle. They both know what it feels like to exist in a world where flashy powerful quirks are the most valued to the common eye.
Taking in a deep breath, Aizawa smiles at him, letting his usual emotionless mask fall back for just a moment. “I know you and All Might have a certain bond. There are secrets between you two that I will never fully understand but the fact of the matter is you are still my student. You saved my life out there and you’ve put yourself through pain and loss I never thought you would see at your age.” He looks down at his hands, at the scars etched into his palms from endless nights practicing in his youth. “It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to not want to smile right now.”
Midoriya’s expression begins to crack with each word as the boy tries to hold the pieces of himself together. But the moment Aizawa stops speaking a rush of tears tumble out from Midoriya’s eyes, a raw sob pushing out from the back of his throat into the still air.
He’s still a child. Despite the training and the carnage, he’s still so young and already seen so much.
“I didn’t want anyone to die,” Midoriya weeps, voice wobbling as he tries to keep himself as composed as he can. “I don’t want to k-kill anyone, I want to save people. That’s why I wanted to be a hero!”
Something inside Aizawa burns and he feels an ache behind his eye sockets. He remembers the anguish he had felt the day Shirakumo died, the ripping in his heart, the sensation of a part of him cracking in two. Protecting his students from that pain had been a part of his teaching.
Things had changed. The world had buckled without All Might to hold it up any longer.
And even then… how long could this world have gone on the way it had?
“When I was your age, my best friend died during our class internship our second year.” Aizawa keeps the explanation brief, not wanting to get into the full details regarding Kurogiri at the moment. “He was a lot like you with a lot of the same hopes and dreams.”
Midoriya wipes the tears from his eyes on the back of his bandaged hands, brows knitting together in concern. The empathy in his bruised face shines brighter than the fluorescent light above them and Aizawa feels his heartache.
“I… I’m sorry that happened to you Mr. Aizawa.”
“It’s alright. I see those same hopes and dreams my friend had living in you and the rest of the class, Midoriya.” He presses one finger against the other’s chest, raising an eyebrow with a coy smile. “Despite being the biggest problem child out of them all, you proved me wrong all those months ago. You have what it takes to be a hero Midoriya. You care for people. You don’t want fame or death, you want to save others.” He nods his head humbly. “And because of that, you’ll be all right.”
Speaking from the heart so openly feels exhausting but Aizawa puts aside his self reservations for now. He knows his student needs this, that words are something Midoriya needs now when his bodies come so close to failing him.
Letting his hand drop back down to his side, Aizawa watches as the other hesitates, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.
“I have to kill Shigaraki.” Midoriya looks up into Aizawa’s eyes sadly. “Don’t I?”
A chill runs through him. Aizawa stares the other down, puzzled as to why he feels like such a daunting task is his responsibility. After everything that had just happened… after such a close call…
There are things Aizawa still doesn’t understand.
But for now… he would willingly remain in the dark.
“Heroes don’t kill people,” Aizawa reminds him softly. “They save people. No matter how far gone they might seem.”
It’s a simple answer for an overly complicated problem but it’s enough. Midoriya sits with his words, staring down at the floor with his bandaged hands rigid in his lap. It’s the answer he wants with no clear solution.
For now it’s all Aizawa can offer him.
“Clear your head. Everyone’s worried about you, it would do you good to entertain them. Show them you’re still alive.”
Aizawa gets up from the bed, gripping his crutch tight. Midoriya scrambles to stand up and follows him over to the door to hold it open for him.
From the other side he can hear the scattering of footsteps.
‘Typical for them to listen in…’
“Mr. Aizawa?”
“Hm?”
Midoriya bows his head to the other with determination set into his watery green eyes. “I’ll do my best to be a hero… I’ll make sure I can make my dreams come true since your best friend couldn’t.” He smiles at him. “I’ll show you and everyone else that there’s still hope in all of this.”
Aizawa’s stares, caught off guard. He feels his throat go tight, his heart full with a feeling he isn’t familiar with. With a small nod he turns away from the other and out the door just as a small tear trickles down from his right eye along his cheek.
Yes. Despite everything, there is still hope.
It lies in the hearts of his students.
“Good night, Midoriya.”
“Good night Mr. Aizawa.”