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“Here you are, young Midoriya!” All Might’s sudden booming voice cut through the silence of the gym and had him almost dropping the dumbbell on his feet. “I’ve been looking for you! You could have come to me on Friday, my boy.”
He knew that, he just hadn’t wanted to, not when the thought of talking to All Might while under the quirk had filled him with anxiety. One of the upsides of the whole quirk incident had been a reason to avoid All Might all through Friday and Saturday. He’d answered a few of his classmates’ questions after returning to the dorm the day before, telling them about the quirk incident at the gym and that Aizawa-sensei kept an eye on him until he was good to come back, but nothing more. He should have known someone would have let All Might know of his whereabouts once he was back, but it had been nice to hope for a training-free weekend.
Ever since he got into U.A. and it was established that he wasn’t about to be immediately expelled, All Might had insisted on holding him back after classes for extra training at the gym in order to try and help him get a hold of One for All. At least that’s what the hero said, but Izuku could tell he had no idea of how to go about it since it apparently never gave All Might any trouble when he used it, merely making Izuku use it over and over again while trying to reign it in. After the USJ, training was somehow more brutal since apparently someone had told him about how he punched the Nomu with One for All and didn’t break his bones, but he had yet to be able to replicate it on purpose, so all he did was break his bones over, and over, and over, while the hero smiled on the sidelines and told him he would get the hang of it eventually.
He always manages to hold the tears in until he’s alone in his bed. He doesn’t want to add being ungrateful to already being a disappointment.
Recovery Girl always healed him after their training sessions but looked increasingly annoyed with every visit, warning him that her quirk had its limits and that if he kept breaking himself he might eventually require surgery or make irreparable damage, and to get the quirk under control already. All Might assured her they were working on it, but Izuku didn’t have as much faith in how things were progressing.
He has to, though. There’s no other option.
“S-sorry, All Might! I just d-didn’t want to be a bother,” he mutters in excuse, putting the weights back in their place, “did you need something?”
“To fetch you for training, of course!” The blond replied with a grin, “I hope you had a filling lunch because I thought it might be good for us to spar.”
“S-sure!” Izuku forces a cheerful smile into his face, a direct contradiction to the dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach. All Might may be the number one hero, but he had a very loose sense of restraint, which meant Izuku was in for a pounding. An educational pounding, he reminds himself. He’s a teacher.
That’s never been a good thing, part of him whispers but he quickly dismisses it.
That’s how Izuku spends the start of his Sunday afternoon: being thrown around like a ragdoll through ground gamma. He’s grateful, he really is! Ever since being offered All Might’s quirk and starting his training to become a suitable vessel for it, he had been grateful for the hero’s patience and attention as he threw himself at it with vigor, knowing he always had to work twice as hard for half as much as everyone else. But sometimes, when he injured himself carrying a fridge on his own or shattered his bones for the second time in a day because All for One was just too much, he thought for just a moment that he might regret it, just a little bit. He tried not to think about how half of what was going through his head at the time of the offer had been how easy it is for limelight heroes to get away with committing crimes of their own because of their status and how easy it would be for him to vanish, never to be seen again, especially after being told not one but two national secrets, and there would be no questions because he was quirkless. As far as Japan is concerned, that’s just what happens to them.
Any thoughts of regret are soon expelled from his body, along with all the oxygen in his lungs as his back hits the side of a large metal pipe and he slides to the ground with a pained groan.
“Focus, young Midoriya!” All Might reminds him, landing just a few steps away and looking like he’s hardly breaking a sweat. “You must master this power as soon as possible, people are depending on you.”
“R-right!” He felt determination fill him at the thought of not being able to save someone because he was too weak, too scared of hurting himself for the greater good. He visualizes the egg in the microwave as he calls One for All forward while moving to attack All Might, his arm tingles with the stored energy in a painful way as he charges.
The hero jumps away at the last second, and Izuku barely has time to register the metal container in front of him before his fist hits the wrong mark and everything hurts. He bites back a scream - he can handle it! - and stands up. He can still feel it somewhat, so maybe that was it. Maybe it was getting easier now, still no less painful though. He grits his teeth when his eyes meet All Might’s again, something like disappointment and annoyance clear in his expression, and doesn’t even think before concentrating the energy on his injured arm once again for a second attack. He can do this!
He can’t do this, he realizes a moment later, hearing his own scream of pain echo through the gym. The second use of the quirk on the same arm only aggravates the break and he barely manages to stop himself from becoming permanently lodged into the metal pipe his fist sunk into. Tears are gathering in his eyes and he desperately tries to blink them away as he struggles to stand and face his teacher. He’s done for today, any more and he might pass out from the pain.
“We’re not done yet, my boy!” All might announces as if capable of hearing his thoughts.
“I can’t!” He cries, tears beginning to spill.
“Yes, you can!” All might crosses his arms, tone turning scolding, “do you think villains will stop just because you’re injured? A hero must always persevere, young Midoriya!”
That’s when he finally understands the look on All Might’s face, what he thought was disappointment or maybe even anger, but now seems a lot more familiar, like something he’s seen before in the mirror: desperation. All Might is desperate for him to learn how to use the quirk, and it downs on him that he probably won’t be allowed to leave until both his arms are inoperable, maybe even more of his limbs, so long as he leaves closer to controlling it than at the start of their training. For the first time since meeting the number one hero, Izuku feels entirely overwhelmed by fear.
Later he would have no idea how he managed it, probably justifying himself with the fact that All Might didn’t expect it or was distracted, but Izuku runs toward the exit of the gym at an almost unnatural speed, the only thing in his mind being the need to escape before he breaks himself beyond repair. He flees through the school grounds, barely sparing a glance at the blur of red and white he almost bumps into in his hurry, too preoccupied with figuring out where to go. Dorms are out, too many questions, and he can’t go see Recovery Girl, she’d be so upset at him for hurting himself again and it’s the first place All Might would look, he needs somewhere safe.
I need sensei, the unbidden thought enters his mind, somehow ringing true and redirecting his feet toward the faculty buildings. He shouldn’t bother him! He’ll have so much explaining to do! What if sensei doesn’t keep All Might away? His panicked thoughts protest even as he calls for the elevator.
What if he agrees? What if he sends him back?
There’s a moment of hesitation, where he stands in front of his teacher’s door and contemplates turning back, but the memories of reassurances and promises of retribution to teachers that hurt him in the past are so recent in his mind that he feels the need to try, if only to prove to himself whether Aizawa-sensei really meant it, if maybe he’ll keep him safe from current teachers as well as past ones.
He rings the buzzer before he can talk himself out of it.
Regret hits him almost instantly as he starts to pace in front of the door, innumerable possibilities where this only made things worse going through his mind, from being dismissed at first sight, to being told off for bothering sensei on a Sunday afternoon, to being told to suck it up if he wants to control his quirk and have any chance of becoming a hero in the future. He’s almost pushing the button for the elevator again when the door to the apartment opens fast enough to displace some air, making him turn toward it and meet Aizawa-sensei’s eyes.
“Midoriya-kun? What happened?” his teacher asks, and Izuku cradles his broken arm close to his chest on reflex at the assessing look Aizawa-sensei gives him, as if it would allow him to hide behind it.
He’s too nervous to think about analyzing his teacher in return, barely registering the worried tone of the following question before he’s mindlessly answering and being ushered inside as his teacher for some reason agrees to keep All Might from finding him. He thinks his mind might have drifted off for a while because he remembers speaking and moving but the next time his body feels like it actually belongs to him is when he suppresses a hiss at the disinfectant Aizawa-sensei is dabbing onto a cut on his forehead.
Safe now, a tiny voice in his mind whispers, and he tries not to overthink it.
He doesn’t plan to speak, but somehow the words are tumbling out of his mouth and thoughts he barely dared consider - He wants the hurt to stop! what if he never stops fearing this quirk and what it did to him? What if he was meant to be quirkless? - are being spilled to his teacher. And Aizawa-sensei somehow believes him and tells him it’ll all stop now. Can it really be that easy?
He barely has time to think after a sincere thanks leaves his lips, a sudden noise startling them and making him tense up all over again. Sensei tells him to stay, and he was going to obey, but when All Might’s voice reaches him he can’t help but get up and try to look at what’s going on by the entrance, a little scared for his teacher and feeling guilty for making him stand up to All Might just because Izuku can’t handle a little harsh training.
He won’t go back, a persistent thought starts to gain traction in the back of Izuku’s mind and he isn’t sure if he’s trembling from relief or fear as he sits back down on the toilet lid and tries to force his lungs to keep working even while his sobs make it harder as he tries to contain his tears with his uninjured hand.
Aizawa-sensei is back, he notes absently but can’t snap out of it, at least not until his teacher walks him through a couple of breathing exercises for what feels like the millionth time in that weekend.
“He won’t come near you without a witness, which is the best I can do for now,” Aizawa-sensei tells him once he’s no longer shaking and Izuku for some reason wants to laugh. He says it as if it somehow isn’t enough, or like it’s not the most a teacher’s ever cared to do for him. “Caring about your own health is not a tantrum, Midoriya-kun, and it will only make you a better hero for it. All Might is wrong.”
How can that be true, though? When the only reason he’s able to be a hero in the first place is that his legs moved before he could think, throwing him in harm’s way to save Kacchan. He’s only a hero student because he broke three of his limbs against the Zero-pointer. Every step of the way, he’s hurt himself, over and over. Because that’s what heroes do, isn’t it? Sacrifice themselves for others? Is he being a hero wrong too?
The thought of having been breaking himself for nothing from the start makes him giggle a little hysterically, only then registering a little pressure on his hand and reflexively squeezing Aizawa-sensei’s hand back.
“I d-don’t mean to laugh,” Izuku blurts out in an apologetic tone.
“I get it, the number one hero being wrong probably seems strange,” Aizawa-sensei adds in a softer tone that Izuku is starting to become too used to, “but he’s just a person, and people are wrong all the time. You’ve just been unfortunate enough to encounter most of the wrong people.”
How can so many people be wrong, though? That’s statistically unlikely. Maybe Aizawa-sensei is just the anomaly, Izuku argues in the safety of his thoughts.
They don’t talk much more besides Aizawa-sensei’s warning that he’s calling Recovery Girl to come and look at his arm. He’s walked to the living room after sensei ends the call and Izuku sits silently at what he’s dangerously starting to refer to as his corner of the couch, at least in his head, having spent most of the weekend in it. It’s after a few minutes of comfortable silence that approaching footsteps make them both look toward the entrance.
“Hey there kiddo, are we doing something about that arm?” Mic-sensei asks as he walks in holding a plate.
“I called Chiyo up to look at it,” Aizawa-sensei answers while Izuku just shrugs his uninjured shoulder, “If she can’t fix it here, we’ll go down to the infirmary.”
They probably realize he’ll have to go either way. His bones are probably mush after two super-powered punches straight to hard metal, but he’s still grateful for the chance to pretend it might be an easier fix than it actually is.
“Good, no one should continue injured if it can be helped,” Mic-sensei says and Izuku can’t help but look away, memories of the Aldera nurse sending him away without treatment rising up in his mind and making him shrink slightly into himself. “So, I made some PB&J sandwiches and can’t eat all of it, feel like helping me out kiddo? It’s more energy to help with Chiyo’s quirk.
He easily catches the English term for peanut butter and jelly but hides a grimace at the thought, looking up at Aizawa-sensei instead. He doesn’t have the heart to refuse his enthusiastic English teacher at the moment, but Aizawa-sensei probably remembers what he said the day before.
“He can’t eat jelly,” he almost smiles as Aizawa-sensei saves him from the embarrassment of accepting something he wouldn’t manage to eat just to be polite, “and I know you haven’t eaten yet, Zashi.”
“No need to call me out like that,” Mic-sensei sighs as he sits down, putting the plate on the kotatsu’s tabletop as if he’ll just leave it there.
“Zashi,” Aizawa-sensei says in a tone even Izuku can tell is tinted with worry.
Does Mic-sensei not eat often? He can’t imagine that, with how good Aizawa-sensei’s cooking is, but then again he has no idea how long they’ve been married for. Probably no more than five years, since that’s when Present Mic made his debut in Japan as a hero after returning from the agency he’d been working at in the US.
“Fine, fine,” Mic-sensei caves and grabs a bite of his sandwich while rolling his eyes, and Izuku can’t help but smile slightly at the dynamic. “See, I’m eating, no need to be a mother hen, ” his teacher quips, the English term making him chuckle at the mental image of his usually stoic teacher fussing over his husband.
Mic-sensei jokes around while he eats, somehow pulling Izuku into a conversation entirely in English, to the annoyance of Aizawa-sensei. Apparently, his homeroom teacher is barely passable at the language and only understands a little due to how much Mic-sensei surrounds him with it, be it through music or movies or taking international calls. He also learns that Aizawa-sensei is apparently fluent in french, which explains a little how he doesn’t seem to have as hard a time understanding some of what Aoyama-kun says as most of the class.
It’s only a couple minutes later that Recovery Girl gets buzzed in, takes a look at Izuku’s arm, and predictably announces he still needs to go down to the infirmary to get it x-rayed because it was definitely not a clean break. He doesn’t protest but still lets his eyes fall to the floor as he stands up to go.
“You go ahead, Zashi. I’ll change and meet you there,” Aizawa-sensei’s request makes Izuku’s head snap back up in surprise. “What? I’m not about to leave you unsupervised where he has access to.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles. His good hand moves to absently rub his arm but is immediately struck by the end of Recovery Girl’s cane and Izuku flinches back.
“Don’t touch that!” She frowns at him and he hurriedly nods, looking back down.
“Chiyo,” Aizawa-sensei’s tone probably means something to the heroine, who huffs in indignation but puts the cane back down.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Mic-sensei grins and Izuku does his best not to flinch when a hand touches his back to guide him out of the apartment, his teacher continuing in a whisper only he could hear, “Sho just doesn’t want everyone to realize his casual wardrobe is full of pastels. Gotta keep the scary vibe.”
Izuku can’t help but smile in response, wondering if that was really it since he has so far seen his homeroom teacher in both pastel pink sweatpants and now a lavender pullover.
The walk to the infirmary goes by uninterrupted and Izuku lets his mind drift a little as they enter it and he’s told to sit in one place, then stand in another, and all of the necessary movements to get his injuries figured out. It’s all a little less flashback-inducing when he’s got Mic-sensei dutifully standing by the door, instilling a new sense of safety that pushes back any lingering memories of being pushed around during treatment or told to leave and not keep wasting useful resources. At some point, Aizawa-sensei must have walked in, because when Recovery Girl tells him to brace for some pain, his hand is in Izuku’s somehow, in a silent support that helps him grit his teeth and bear it. There are probably more procedures after that, but Izuku doesn’t remember much else before everything goes dark.
The first thing Izuku notices as he wakes up is that the lamp in his line of sight clearly off, as evidenced by his dimly lit surroundings, but some other one nearby must be on to keep the room from plunging into complete darkness. He’s grateful for not waking up to instant brightness, at least. The second thing he notices, turning his head to glance around the bed, is that Aizawa-sensei is sleeping by the wall closest to him, tucked into his bright yellow sleeping bag. The relief that fills him at the sight is unexpected but not as surprising as it would have been a couple of days ago. He stayed?
The sound of the infirmary door being slowly pushed open breaks the silence and Izuku attempts to sit up and see who’s coming in only to realize he can’t quite move one of his arms. Looking down and moving the sheet covering him aside slightly, he blinks in bewilderment at the long cast encasing his right arm, keeping it at a permanent ninety-degree angle. How did he not notice that? He wonders as he pushes himself up with only his working arm.
“Easy there, Midoriya-kun,” Mic-sensei’s voice cuts through his musings and there’s the answer as to who had been entering the room. He hadn’t actually thought it could be All Might but still relaxes at the confirmation. He’s not ready to face the number one hero’s disappointment yet. “Chiyo did her best to heal everything up but that’s staying for a day or two until she can finish healing you without risk,” he explains, approaching the bed. “Apparently you had more energy than usual for her to use, which was good, but we should talk about how the school nurse is already familiar with your usual energy levels for healing.”
“I come here a lot,” Izuku justifies tiredly, already busy trying to figure out how he’ll go through Monday and maybe Tuesday without being able to use his arm properly. He could still write with his left, if a bit worse from lack of practice since the last time his arm was broken was in elementary school and he had to learn, but he still had to do it a few other times through middle school so it should be mostly fine, Phys Ed. would be a pain though, and eating.
“You’ll be excused from physical education and foundational heroics, the latter for longer than two days,” Aizawa-sensei says, startling him into looking at the corner and meeting his very awake sensei’s eyes in surprise, which quickly turned to fear as he realized the wouldn’t be able to attend hero classes. What if he fell even further behind? Or was this their way of telling him he was getting kicked out of the hero course? “Midoriya-kun, you’re not getting kicked out. I should probably have phrased that better.”
“Ya think?” Mic-sensei quips and Izuku is torn on which teacher to look at - he doesn’t like his attention split, he’ll miss something and it’ll be important and it’ll make things worse - but keeps his attention on Aizawa-sensei.
“I’m n-not?” He still feels the need to confirm.
“No. You’ll be excused while recuperating, but once you can train, your Foundational Heroics periods will be spent with me, working on quirk control.” Aizawa-sensei probably senses the sudden panic that fills him, or maybe it shows on his face because he’s quick to add, “I won’t let you keep breaking yourself, kid. Erasure quirk, remember? If it gets too much, I can just turn it off.”
“Oh,” is all that Izuku manages to say in response. He blinks when something white enters his vision and stares at the tissue being held out to him by Mic-sensei.
“You’re crying, kiddo,” he points out kindly and Izuku embarrassedly accepts it, drying the tears he hadn’t even noticed, too filled with disbelief, or maybe relief, to register them.
“Sorry,” he mutters, clutching the tissue close.
“Hey, emotions aren’t anything to apologize for, you can cry if you want” Mic-sensei replies, and Izuku can’t help but feel a little angry. He pushes it down like he always does, but in a corner of his mind, he just wishes everyone could come to a consensus as to what is and isn’t something he should apologize for because his teachers and classmates always used to be annoyed or mock him for crying so much.
He knows it makes no sense, it’s not like everyone in the world could agree on one thing, but he’s so tired of having to figure out all new rules every time he’s in a new situation, and the U.A. rules are turning out to be the hardest to figure out, especially these past few days.
“A-alright,” he whispers in response, still unsure of how to react.
“Anyway,” Mic-sensei continues in a cheerful tone, “Inui-san just stopped by to check in since it’s almost ten and he starts his campus patrol in a bit, we might want to be gone so the security system can lock up.”
“Almost t-ten?” he asks in disbelief, he didn’t think he’d been asleep for so long! And his teachers even stayed! he ruins their only off day with his quirk issues and they don’t even look upset? “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time! You didn’t have to stay.”
“We stayed because we chose to, kid. No need to apologize,” Aizawa-sensei assures and shuffles out of his sleeping bag, throwing it over his shoulder to carry. “Besides, I can sleep here just as well as anywhere else.”
“We don’t mind at all, Midoriya-kun!” Mic-sensei agrees with a smile, “but we should clear out. Chiyo said you’re okay to leave, just be careful with that arm until she can finish the healing.”
“That means no morning training either,” Aizawa-sensei adds and Izuku can’t help his cheeks reddening at the warning since he’d definitely been thinking about it.
“Yes sensei,” he concedes, not wanting to cause any more trouble.
It takes a little shuffling but he’s soon on his feet, a bit relieved for the hospital gown - and the continued presence of his gym pants - that means he won’t have to wiggle out of the gym shirt with a cast on. He grabs said folded shirt from the foot of the bed and leaves flanked by his two teachers. Mic-sensei is talking about something he doesn’t really have the presence of mind to focus on at the moment, but his voice is really soothing when not yelling out people’s eardrums - probably why he’s such a successful radio host - so Izuku tries his best to listen.
“So, what will it be, kid?” Aizawa-sensei asks and he tries to focus on what the question had been but comes up empty. His teacher must realize he was a bit lost because he thankfully clarifies, “Zashi asked if you’re okay to go back to the dorms or would rather crash on the sofa again.”
“I’m okay,” he assures quickly, and even though both his teachers send him searching looks he does his best to avoid them by looking at the ground as they walk.
Truth is he’d like nothing more than to hide away at his teachers’ apartment and forget this entire day never happened, but he’s taken up so much of their time and attention already, it wouldn’t be fair to keep doing it. He can’t help but think that if he keeps going to them, keeps breaking down like this in front of Aizawa-sensei over every stupid problem, they’ll realize how weak he really is and start treating him like his mom, as if he’s made of glass or something to be locked away so it’s not damaged.
It doesn’t take long for them to get to the 1-A building. It’s mostly in the dark, only one or other window showing lights turned on, which means that thankfully his classmates are more likely to be asleep than awake, getting well-rested for the following school day. Izuku can’t help but be relieved at the prospect of going straight to bed without being interrogated about his arm.
“Here’s your stop, Midoriya-kun!” Mic-sensei announces, and Izuku manages to control the urge to flinch when all his teacher’s reaching hand does is ruffle his hair. “We’ll see you in class.”
“If anyone asks questions, feel free to send them to me, you’re not obligated to tell anyone anything you don’t want to,” Aizawa-sensei tells him in a more serious tone.
“Yes sensei,” he nods and glances at the door, not sure if he was dismissed or not.
“Good night kid,” Aizawa-sensei says, copying Mic-sensei and ruffling his hair before grabbing Mic-sensei’s arm and walking away to their own apartment.
Please let everyone be sleeping, is what goes through his mind on repeat as he enters the building, stepping lightly even though the lights are off and the only illumination keeping him from tripping over his feet are the motion-sensing ones at the base of the walls that exist for that exact purpose. He’s walking past the kitchen area to head up to his room when a noise makes him look up and realize he’s not the only one there.
“Midoriya-kun,” Todoroki greets, having just set down a mug on the kitchen island. Izuku would probably have walked right past him if not for that little noise.
How can someone with so much presence in class be so quiet?
“H-hey, Todoroki-kun!” He nervously greets, “I was just going to sleep.”
Out of all his classmates, Todoroki is one of the few he’s had little to no interaction with so far, even Kacchan talks to him more, though it’s usually to insult or threaten him, so it’s no wonder he has very little knowledge about this particular classmate besides some quirk observations. It makes him nervous, not knowing what to expect, though he’s already used to expecting the worst. So far, U.A. has made a habit to defy his expectations, but he has a quirk now. Then again, that didn’t stop Kacchan, and Todoroki had a colder type of aura instead of Kacchan’s explosive temperament, but no less intimidating.
“Can we talk?” The almost deadpan question stops him before he can keep going, and he takes a moment to mourn the possibility of no interrogations before turning around with a slightly forced smile.
“Sure, Todoroki-kun,” he makes his way to the kitchen island, standing on the opposite side. It’s good to have obstacles between him and people he can’t predict, he’s learned. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Are you All Might’s secret love child or something?”
What?
“What?” he instantly verbalizes that thought. That was definitely not even close to any question he might have expected.
“I thought he was some sort of secret sponsor, after the USJ,” Todoroki explains, monotone making Izuku even more unsure of whether he was being serious or joking. He didn’t seem like the joking type. “All Might in action gives off an energy, I could feel it. When he was fighting the nomu, and Shigaraki came for us, you had a similar energy when fighting.” He’s serious? Oh, kami. “Plus he’s got some sort of interest in you, and I’ve seen you enter the gym together before. What I saw today… he did that, didn’t he?”
It takes Izuku a moment to realize Todoroki is referring to his arm, and shame fills him for a moment at being the reason one of his classmates thinks badly of the hero.
“N-no, I did it to myself,” he looks down at the table as he answers, “my quirk still hurts me when I use it.”
The silence stretches for a while and Izuku can’t help but look back up at his classmate, expecting anything but the look of realization he finds on Todoroki’s face. What does he think he knows?
“He’s trying to train you into fighting past the pain,” Todoroki concludes, sounding something between understanding and hopeless, and Izuku can’t begin to understand either of those emotions.
“I- That’s not- It doesn’t make him my dad, Todoroki-kun, it’s not like that,” Izuku insists, if only because the thought of All Might as a father stopped being something to fantasize about many months ago.
“You didn’t say I’m wrong,” Todoroki points out, to Izuku’s unending exasperation, “so there is some connection? It has to be something big if your parents will let him make you break yourself repeatedly.”
All of his exhaustion turns to anger like the flip of a switch, and he tries so very hard to push it down. He doesn’t want to be angry, it doesn’t solve anything, it only makes things worse, but by kami, what right does Todoroki have to assume anything about his family?
“It’s none of your business,” he snaps, and it’s a sad sort of satisfaction to finally see his classmate’s ever-stoic expression shift to one of surprise, if only for a moment. “Good night, Todoroki-kun.”
He walks away without looking back, choosing to take the stairs to make his exit quicker, and it takes all of his considerably worn self-control to not slam the door of his room closed as he walks in. Instead, he throws the gym shirt on the floor and falls down on the bed as comfortably as possible with a cast in the way. He's not even sure he's angry at Todoroki's questions, not really. He's scared to admit it, but he's angry at the fact that he's probably right, his mom would never let All Might train him like that. Then again she never let him train at all, too worried about others hurting him if he took any self-defense classes even while she looked away from the one person actually hurting him right down the street. No, she would have him out of the school before he could blink if she knew he was going around breaking himself left and right and trying to be a hero, and he'll admit that he's just a little bit angry about it. But anger isn't good, so he breathes in deeply and tries to exhale it along with the air as he attempts to relax enough to fall asleep. This day couldn’t end fast enough.