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"Midoriya," Aizawa said flatly.
"That isn't the right uniform."
They were in the middle of class training. The students had been sent to the changing room to get their training uniforms on.
This week was the first week that the students were supposed to be wearing the short-sleeved version of the training uniform, now that it had warmed up a bit outside.
It was basic protocol. In the student handbook, even. Unless the student had a valid excuse to continue wearing the cold weather uniform— of which the reasoning could be examined by a teacher and appealed, such as a byproduct of the student's quirk, like Asui who had arranged to continue wearing the winter uniform until late summer, because her quirk sends her into hibernation if she gets too cold, the student was supposed to wear the summer uniform.
Midoriya didn't have a proper excuse. Or atleast, not one that had been discussed with a teacher.
When Midoriya heard his name get called, he visibly winced. As if he were thinking, "Damn it, not me, shoot. Why'd he have to notice?"
"I- I know, sensei. I'm sorry. I.. forgot to order my summer uniform," Midoriya made an excuse.
"No, you didn't. I have the order forms and the delivery forms for your uniform in my office, as for everyone else's, too," Shouta answered plainly, slimming his eyes suspiciously.
Midoriya was sweating. He was fidgeting excessively with his hands, he was grimacing and looking around at the scenery.
Something wasn't right here. He looked far too paranoid, or nervous, or uncomfortable. No, this wouldn't do.
Midoriya was clearly lying. Shouta couldn't have that.
"Oh. Well, I think my mom forgot to give it to me, I'll ask her—"
"Follow me," is all Shouta said, beginning to walk off the field.
He paused for a moment.
"Everyone else, do laps until we're back," he added.
All the students groaned.
Midoriya visibly gulped, his adam's apple bobbling in his throat.
Shouta walked into the building, and then turned left into an old storage room. He didn't need anything fancy, didn't need an interrogation table or anything of the sort, he just needed a room.
The teacher also didn't bother to look back to see if Midoriya was following him. He knew he would be. Unless he was getting attacked by villains again, or something. That happened often enough nowadays that Shouta wouldn't be exactly surprised.
He walked into the room, flicking the light on and standing in the middle of the space.
"Why are you wearing your winter uniform?" Aizawa asked sternly.
Midoriya looked away, fidgeting.
"I- I'm really not lying. It was an accident. I must have accidentally put my long-sleeved uniform in my bag to take with me instead of my short-sleeved one. Honest mistake."
"Aren't you warm? It's pretty hot outside today."
"I'm naturally cold, so.."
"You're sweating."
"No, I'm not. That's.. water. It— it was raining."
"That is factually not true, problem child."
"Oh.. I could have sworn—"
"Enough with the bullshit, Midoriya. You've successfully dug yourself into a hole of lies, and additionally I've lost some respect for you in the process. I thought you were smarter than this," Aizawa berated, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration.
Izuku stayed quiet. He looked away from Aizawa.
"Just tell me the truth. I don't go around interrogating everyone who wears a long-sleeved shirt, you know I'm not an insane person. I don't do that. But I can tell that something isn't right here. I have atleast enough sense to be able to tell that."
Aizawa watched as Midoriya took a step back, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Quickly followed by another one.
"Don't cry," Aizawa said, furrowing his eyebrows. Fuck, he didn't know that Midoriya would cry, sure, Midoriya cries a lot but he didn't think this would be something he'd cry over.
But that was telling enough that it was probably what Shouta was expecting.
Midoriya was clearly a troubled kid. He cries a lot, as mentioned earlier, he's oddly scared of practically every authority figure in UA, he's secretive and doesn't open up to anyone, and probably the worst part— he gets injured on the daily.
Every time he uses his quirk, he ends up breaking something. Shouta knows damn well that he has the option to be more careful, to take things slower with training his quirk, but Midoriya chooses to hurt himself. He chooses to break his arms, or his fingers, or his legs.
Aizawa had already figured that Midoriya is a bit fucked in the head. So, though he desperately hopes that this isn't another situation in which Midoriya is intentionally hurting himself, he doesn't doubt that it's a possibility.
"I'm not crying," Midoriya said quietly.
Shouta rolled his eyes.
"You're gonna blame this on the non-existant rain again, huh?"
Izuku nodded.
"Yeah." his voice was wobbly.
"Since it's so hot out," Aizawa started, opting to consciously make his voice sound just a bit nicer.
"Why don't you take off your long-sleeved shirt? You have a undershirt on, right?" He paused.
"I'll let you do training in just that today."
Midoriya waited a few moments to answer.
"I- I can't do that."
"And why is that, problem child?" Aizawa took a step forward, to which Izuku instinctively took a step back.
"Because.." he paused.
"I did something bad." He said quietly, refusing to make eye contact.
Aizawa stayed quiet.
Izuku took another step backwards, which lead to him tripping on a piece of raised concrete. He fell backwards with a small shout, landing on his right hip, and his sleeve got snagged on an old screw sticking out of the doorframe. He cursed himself.
Shouta rushed towards him, crouching down to Izuku's level.
"Fuck, are you alright? Nothing's broken?" He asked Midoriya, panicked.
Izuku chewed on his lip, letting out small sobs at this point.
It seems that tripping and falling, was the straw that broke the camel's back, because normally, Midoriya wouldn't be full-on sobbing because he fell, but today, things seemed to have built up until this was his breaking point.
Shouta continued checking over Midoriya, until he noticed that the seam on his sleeve was completely ripped up to his elbow.
Midoriya noticed and tried to hide his arm behind his back.
"No, no, let me see," Shouta grabbed Izuku's arm.
"I need to check if the screw broke ski—.."
He froze.
"What the hell.." Shouta breathed out.
"I- I didn't mean to—I didn't mean to, I s- swear, please, please, I didn't—" Izuku didn't know what he was begging for. He hardly was begging at all, it was hard to speak through his sobbing.
He curled in on himself. Oh God. He felt like he was going to be sick.
Aizawa-sensei must despise him. He must think he's some kind of freak, a freak that likes to slice through his own skin. He must think that Izuku is insane.
"Hey- hey, no, no no," Aizawa grabbed Izuku's shoulders, trying to look Izuku in the eyes. Izuku, however, seemed very adamant in avoiding Shouta's gaze.
"No. Hey, calm down, it's fine, this is fine," he continued, however, it was very evident in his tone that this situation infact wasn't fine, and that he was just trying to deescalate Izuku's sobbing.
Izuku could barely breathe, let alone reply to Shouta's words.
"Hey, please, look at me," he said quietly, though his tone was nothing less but panicked.
"This— this is fine, okay? We'll get you cleaned up, and we'll get ointment and get your arms wrapped up," he explained.
Midoriya had cuts— clearly self-inflicted, all the way down his arm. A lot of them. Atleast thirty of them, on his right arm.
They were a deep red, and the skin around them was irritated, and looked like it had been scratched practically raw. Some of the cuts were still bleeding, but none of them looked necessarily fresh, no, they had been picked at, and picked at, again and again so they kept bleeding instead of healing how they were supposed to.
And they were deep. Or, clearly had been, at the time they were cut.
Shouta almost wanted to throw up. No, not because of the blood, he's seen worse stuff than that. But because Midoriya, a fifteen year old child, was hurting himself, and intentionally hiding it instead of trusting Shouta to help him.
Aizawa was always known to be the rational, quick-thinking teacher among the UA faculty. if a student had an emergency, even if they weren't one of Aizawa's students, they'd look for him. He knew how to handle rough situations with barely even a change in expression on his face.
So imagine how unnerved Izuku felt, when he finally looked up at his teacher through the tears still gathering in his eyes, and saw an expression full of what could only be explained as a mix of confused, concerned, panicked, and mildly horrified.
Shouta's gaze ran up Izuku's arms.
"Fuck.. these might be infected," he muttered under his breath.
Izuku wasn't sure if Shouta had intended for him to hear it or not.
"I'm sorry," Izuku apologized, feeling more sobs creeping up his throat.
"I- I didn't mean to, I promise. I w— I won't do it again, I won't," he rambled, gulping.
"Am.. a- am I in trouble?"
"No," Aizawa answered simply.
"You'd never be in trouble for something like this," he trailed off.
The man stood up.
"N-no," Izuku muttered.
"Where are you going? I- don't leave! N-not right now," he shouted.
Shouta's face contorted into something even more concerned than it was previously.
"I'm not going anywhere, problem child. I was just standing up." He crouched back down.
"I'd like to get your cuts cleaned up, and bandaged, so they don't get infected," he explained.
"Can we do that?"
Izuku wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand.
"No, I- I can't, I'm not ready," he mumbled.
"What aren't you ready for?" Aizawa asked quietly. It was clear that he was trying as hard as he really could to be gentle and patient, but when a student's health is on the line, it's hard to be patient.
"I- I'm not ready," Izuku repeated, not elaborating further.
Shouta sighed.
"Alright, that's fine. But can we at least head towards the infirmary? That way, when you are ready, we're right there?"
"The infirmary?" Izuku asked, his eyes widening.
"Yes, we'll go and talk to Recovery Girl, and she can either get you some ointment and bandage you up, or she can heal you. But that's up to her."
"No!" Izuku shouted immediately.
"No no no— I can't go to Recovery Girl! She's gonna b-be so mad at me," Izuku yelled, curling in on himself a bit again.
"You're not thinking clearly, problem child. She'd never be mad at you for something like this," Aizawa sighed.
"Worried, maybe, but not mad."
"She's.. g-gonna tell my mom about this."
Shouta paused.
"Well.. she is required to report to your mother any injuries you get," he said quietly.
"I can't go."
"Problem ch— Midor—," Shouta groaned, "Izuku, you have to go to Recovery Girl. Again, your mother will not be mad at you for doing this, neither will Recovery Girl. Infact, they'd both be more mad if you didn't get help. These could very well get infected," Shouta stated clearly.
"I also know that there's a lot of people who care about your well-being. And they would hate to think that you're still dealing with this alone."
"I w-wasn't planning on telling anyone, anyway," Izuku wiped his eyes again.
"I wasn't gonna tell them."
Shouta stayed quiet. But then he spoke.
"Midoriya, I care about you," he started.
"I care about you and I want you to get better. I don't want to have to watch you come into class every day, and wonder if you had hurt yourself the night before. I don't want to have to wonder if you're getting worse, or if you're contemplating doing something even more drastic." He paused for a moment.
"So if you're not going to get better for your friends, or yourself, atleast do it for me. I want you to get better."
The room was quiet for a moment.
Then a small,
"Okay."
Shouta sighed, standing up. He held a hand out for Midoriya.
"Alright then. Let's get going."