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Izuku had always prided himself on being observant.
Pencil in hand, he felt this compulsive need to furiously scribble every muttered thought he could into his notebook—that’s how he’d always gone about his day, no matter how many times, he’d been told the habit was creepy or annoying, and that the best thing he could do for everyone was to keep his mouth shut.
He couldn’t help it. It was as if the power of observation was written into his very DNA. Sometimes, without his even meaning to, his eyes would catch every last twitch of a muscle, even the most miniscule action a person took, his mind then analyzing its meaning until he had discovered not only its origins, but predicted the path of its future.
Well, Izuku could throw that pride away, along with all of his notebooks, because he clearly didn’t deserve them. Not when he’d failed to notice the most important thing of all, sitting there in ignorance for the better part of an hour.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa’s voice broke through his stupor, the shock making even his quiet tone thunder in Izuku’s ears. “Are you alright?”
His concern was valid. Izuku had been sitting there, frozen, with a fork held in midair, food ready to be eaten, and yet all he could do was stare.
Eri fidgeted under his gaze, lowering her head so that her hair covered her from his view.
Yamada cleared his throat. “Is there something wrong with the food, little listener?”
“No, Yamada-sensei.” Izuku shook his head, his voice hoarse. “The food is fine,” he shoved the fork in his mouth, trying to keep the lump in his throat from growing. If he cried now, he would never get answers, and that wouldn’t do anybody any good.
Over his head (but not without him noticing) Yamada and Aizawa exchanged glances. Izuku knew that they were worried about him, making the guilt in his stomach grow exponentially. Not only had he failed to notice something so important for so long, but now he was making his teachers worry about him.
And that was the last thing they needed, considering they’d only invited him to dinner so he could help them figure out what was going on with Eri. Which he had. And was the reason he was now acting so oddly.
But if Eri had been keeping something this big to herself, bringing attention to it now was the worst possible thing he could do. Not if he wanted to actually help her.
Steeling himself, he robotically ate, doing his best to get through dinner so that he could speak to Eri and figure out the rest of what was going on. Because, no matter how distraught or angry he was, helping Eri was always going to be his number one priority.
Something his teachers must have understood, because neither of them said anything as the fork in Izuku’s hand began to bend under the force of his grip. Nor did they attempt to speak to him or pull his gaze away from Eri.
Or rather, (and unbeknownst to them) the dark scar that was peeking out from beneath Eri’s sleeve.
“Eri, may I speak to you, please?”
The Yamada-Aizawa household froze upon hearing the ice in Izuku’s voice, Yamada with one foot hanging in the air, as he’d been on the way to pick out a board game.
“S-sure, Deku-kun,” Eri stammered. “What is it?”
“I’d like to speak to you alone, if you don’t mind,” Izuku smiled a smile he most definitely didn’t feel—his most reassuring smile, the one that he’d learned during rescue class and had practiced until it had become almost second nature to use in a tense situation.
He felt Aizawa squint at him, clearly recognizing the look on his face and suspicious about why it was being directed at Eri, but Izuku paid him no mind, keeping all of his attention focused on Eri.
Aizawa didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping him either, making it easier for Izuku to keep the false-friendly smile on his face as he waited for Eri to answer.
She squirmed faced with everyone’s attention before giving a sharp nod. Nervously, she turned and walked towards her room. Breath caught in his throat, Izuku followed.
Each step felt like an eternity with the chaotic mess inside his head growing ever larger.
It was funny—he’d faced bullying before, and he’d never cared for it. No, far from it, every time he saw it, his immediate reaction was to put a stop to it. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d faced Kacchan down, to keep him from belittling one of the other kids on the playground.
He’d faced it himself, plenty of times. Had heard every story under the sun from his friends about the countless times they themselves had gotten bullied. And yet. And yet, not a single one of their stories had sent that white-hot visceral rage shooting down his veins that had manifested itself the very moment he’d had the idea that someone could be bullying Eri.
The very concept was too abstract for him to grasp. What he did know was that the minute Eri told him who was behind it all, he would have One for All sparking up the room so he could put the threat of god into whatever snot-nosed little kid that thought they could get away with hurting the most precious person in Izuku’s life.
If it was up to him, he’d shake the name out of Eri that very instant. But that would only make him feel better, not help Eri. Far from it, it could end up having disastrous consequences on her mental health.
He knew that. Now he just had to make his heart accept it.
Stepping inside her room, Izuku pushed the door closed—not entirely, he didn’t want Eri to feel trapped. Just enough, so that their voices wouldn’t immediately carry out into the hallway.
Kneeling in front of her, Izuku looked Eri in the eyes. “Hi, Eri-chan.”
Eri blinked at the soft hello, some of the tension she’d been holding in her shoulders falling right out of her, instead a giggle spilling out. “We’ve already said hello, Deku-kun.”
“I know, I just wanted to say it again.”
“Oh. Hello then!” She gave him a bright smile, one that made his heart stop and swell the same way it had when he’d first seen it, during that cultural festival, so many months ago.
Swallowing his rage once again at the idea that someone was trying to harm that smile, Izuku pushed forward. “How have you been, Eri-chan? How’s school?”
“Good! I’m learning lots,” Eri spread her arms out to indicate just how much she was being taught, unwittingly flashing Izuku the scar that had had him seeing red for much of that evening.
His throat felt dry seeing it again.
“And how are your classmates? Have you made many friends?” Which one of them is hurting you?
Again, Eri gave him nothing, as she nodded enthusiastically. “Everyone’s really nice even though I’ve only been there for a little while. It’s been really great getting to know them all,” her voice got a little shy at the end, but the sincere smile that glowed on her face told Izuku that she was telling the truth.
But if everything at school was okay, then that threw the bullying explanation out the window. Confusion replaced the fury, leaving him lost unable to do anything but stare at Eri, once again.
This time, she reached out to give him a little poke on his shoulder.
“Are you okay, Deku-kun?”
Great. Now Eri was worried about him. How was he getting this so wrong?
Izuku bit his lip. There was no other choice, he had to go straight for it. Very gently, he took Eri’s hand in his and pushed her sleeve up. He traced the scar (thick, crooked, and taking up nearly a quarter of her little arm) with his fingers before looking up at Eri.
“Eri-chan, how did this happen?”
Eri, immediately and intensely, looked horrified. No, not horrified, Izuku realized, she was ashamed.
Pulling her arm from Izuku’s loose grasp, she stumbled away from him, roughing pulling her sleeve back down, covering her bruised skin (the injury deep enough to even have covered the scars that had remained from her time with Overhaul) the best she could.
“Please, Eri-chan?” Izuku did his best to convey his concern to her. “You can tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” Eri burst out, covering her face with her hands.
“Hey, no,” Izuku shook his head. He pulled her back towards him, both ending up sitting cross legged on the floor. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for.”
Eri stubbornly shook her head. “There is. Of course, there is. Everything I do either hurts other people or makes them worry. I’m sorry for worrying you, Deku-kun.”
What.
Izuku tried to make sense of what Eri was trying to tell him but something had to be getting lost in translation.
“I don’t, I’m sorry, Eri-chan, I don’t understand. Could you explain what happened to me? From the beginning?”
Eri still looked hesitant.
“Please? If you tell me, I could try to help,” he cajoled.
“I won’t bother you?” She checked.
Izuku wanted to wrap her up in a hug, but he didn’t think that would be very conducive to getting her to explain. So with great restraint, he held himself back. “You could never bother me,” he promised instead.
Eri took in a great shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay. Um, you know how Lemillion-san is waiting for me to be able to use my quirk so that he can get his quirk back?”
Izuku, who knew that Mirio was a good person who would never ask Eri to do anything that could hurt her, nodded, reserving his judgement for the end.
“Well, a few weeks ago, I heard Aizawa-san tell Yamada-san that um someone’s training was going well and that it even was making their ability to use their quirk stronger.”
Aizawa must have been talking about Shinsou and his training to get into the hero course. A bad feeling settled into Izuku’s gut as he began to put the pieces together.
“Eri-chan, have you been training?”
Eri nodded glumly. “I wanted to get stronger so I could use my quirk properly, but I couldn’t even do that right.”
“What were you doing exactly in this…training?” Apprehension swirled in his gut.
“Running mostly, I saw Kacchan-san and Red Riot-san running the track, so I figured if they were doing it, it had to be a good way to train.” She glanced at Izuku cautiously before waving her arm, scar on full display.
“That’s how I got this. I fell down pretty badly,” she admitted. “Um, other basic exercises like sit ups and push ups.” She made a face at that. “They’re annoying to do.”
Okay, not ideal, but not too bad. It definitely explained the behaviour Aizawa had told him about, as in the reason they had invited Izuku over. If she was exercising a lot, it made sense she would stay quiet more often.
She must have been exhausted.
Oh, and also, I remembered you lift weights so I’ve been picking up heavy stuff like the dining table chairs or Yamada-san’s stereo speakers.”
Izuku stood corrected.
“Did Aizawa-sensei or Yamada-sensei know you were doing this?” he asked, hoping that somehow they had been aware of it.
Eri shook her head. “They won’t even talk to me about using my quirk. Training would have been out of the question!”
For good reason, Izuku wanted to tell her.
“I’m the reason Lemillion-san doesn’t have his quirk, because he was saving me. Is it so bad that I want to help him get his quirk back?” Eri demanded to know, Izuku’s heart wrenching as he spotted the tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
Unwillingly, he shook his head. “No, Eri-chan, I understand. He saved you, so now you want to save him.”
Eri’s face lit up. “Yes! Exactly,” she exclaimed, relief colouring her tone.
“But, Eri-chan, this is not the way to do it.”
As quickly as it had brightened, Eri’s face fell. “I thought you understood,” she whispered.
“I do understand,” Izuku corrected. “Eri-chan, what you’ve been doing could get you very hurt.” He took her arm in his hands again, pointing out the scar to her. “It has already gotten you hurt.”
Eri was scowling. It wasn’t that Izuku didn’t understand, he’d reacted quite similarly when people had asked him to stop training—or rather getting into fights with villains.
Wait, was this what other people felt like when they asked him to stop getting hurt?
He was gaining a whole new sense of appreciation for his poor mom and All Might. Even Recovery Girl’s lectures and Aizawa’s constant disapproval of his antics were being seen in a whole new light.
That’s when it hit him.
“How do you think Lemillion would feel?”
“Huh?” Eri’s eyes went wide.
“If he found out you’d gotten yourself hurt trying to help him, do you think he would be happy?”
Slowly, Eri shook her head. “He’s always telling me to be careful,” she whispered. Her fingers dug into the cloth of her dress as she looked up at him pleadingly. “But, Deku-kun! There has to be something I could do.”
“I’ll help you talk with Aizawa-sensei. If you’re this determined, we can figure out a way for you to train without hurting yourself.”
“Thank you, Deku-kun!” She flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug.
“I have one condition though.”
She pulled back. “What is it?”
“You won’t blame yourself for what happened with Lemillion anymore. He made that choice on his own and he would make it again if he had to. Nothing is more important to him, or any of us, than your safety and happiness.”
Eri stared at him, gaping at him for a moment. Then, she was wiping away tears and holding him in a hug once more.
Izuku was incredibly glad he’d come to speak with Aizawa and Yamada himself, and that he’d told Eri to wait in her room, because the looks on their faces were nothing short of ferocious.
Or at least, the look on Aizawa’s face was, at the very least. Yamada looked more pensive than anything else, quietly absorbing the information Izuku was giving them.
“Let me get this straight, Eri has been secretly training behind our backs and now you want us to help her with it?” Normally, the glower Aizawa was sending him would have Izuku shaking in his boots, but not this time.
“She’s already doing it behind our backs, and getting hurt in the process,” Izuku reminded him. “Isn’t it better if she does her training in front of us, so we can make sure she’s okay?”
“He has a point, Shouta,” Yamada finally said.
“She’s just a little girl,” Aizawa threw his hands in the air.
“Who is feeling an enormous amount of guilt. At least if we’re involved we can make sure she doesn’t spiral further.”
There was a moment of silence as Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll need to set some ground rules,” he finally said.
“Agreed,” Yamada and Izuku said at the same time. He flushed when his teachers eyed him.
“Um, I mean, of course, you guys should have rules,” he rambled.
“Relax, kid. We all know you’re going to be involved one way or another,” Aizawa drawled.
“For the best really,” Yamada noted wryly. “Eri-chan! Would you come here, please?” he called out.
Eri emerged out of her room, hands twisting the fabric of her skirt anxiously.
“Why didn’t you tell us that you were trying to train your quirk?”
Eri told them, voice barely above a whisper, the same thing she had told him. That she thought they wouldn’t let her.
Aizawa huffed at that but said nothing.
Yamada continued his questioning. “And that’s why you didn’t tell us when you got hurt?”
Eri looked at Izuku in surprise. Apparently, she’d been under the impression that Izuku wouldn’t tell them about her injury, which was a whole other conversation he needed to have with her, Izuku observed.
Looking back at Yamada, she nodded.
Aizawa squatted down to make eye contact with her. “Eri, we want you to tell us everything. Even if you think we won’t approve, we need you to tell us what you’re feeling or if you get hurt.”
“We want to be able to protect you and we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us. Your health and happiness matters a great deal to us, young lady,” Yamada added.
Eri burst into tears. “That’s what Deku-kun said,” she sniffed. “He said that nobody will be happy with my help if I get hurt while helping them.”
“Well, Deku is right,” Aizawa said, shooting Izuku another glance, his expression unreadable. Izuku could only offer a shrug.
“We’ll figure something out together. As long as you promise to not keep any more secrets from us. Deal?” Yamada held out his hand for Eri to shake.
Eri looked at Yamada’s hand then up at Izuku. He nodded, giving Eri an encouraging look.
“Deal,” she said, without another thought, shaking Yamada’s hand confidently.
Yamada grinned and pulled her into a hug.
Izuku, on the other hand, was startled when he felt a hand ruffle through his hair. He looked up to find Aizawa looking down at him.
“Thank you,” he said. “We’d never have known what was going on with her without your help.”
Izuku shook his head, waving his hands across his face. “No, there’s no need for that! I’d do anything for Eri-chan.”
Aizawa only hummed. “Your arguments felt a bit familiar though.”
Izuku flushed harder. “I um, noticed that too.”
“I hope this means I can count on you to be a role model for Eri.” There was a conviction in his voice. “Right?”
They both knew it wasn’t a question.
Izuku only nodded. He’d already said it before. He would do anything for Eri. Apparently, that now meant taking better care of himself. And having been in Aizawa’s position just moments before, Izuku had absolutely no issue with complying.