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Izuku was always writing in those notebooks of his, Shouta surely noticed. He watched his student occasionally put his head down low, muttering under his breath. He watched his student study everybody intensely, before scribbling something down.
Shouta couldn’t help but wonder what he was writing. What was he writing that it took up so much of Midoriya’s time. What was he writing that was so important.
He didn’t ask, however, because it never impacted Izuku’s ability in class, and it never seemed to truly hinder him, considering that he was still ranked no.5 in terms of academics.
But Shouta still kept an eye on his student, he hadn’t done it enough before so he would do it now.
He noticed many things about Izuku that he wouldn’t have noticed otherwise, but it seemed that there was nothing that actually clued Shouta in as to what they were writing.
Nothing except the muttering that had just started up.
Interested, Shouta moved slightly closer to try to decipher what his student was saying.
“-Quirk: Mirrorshard. Could electricity go through each shard? Maybe enough to stun but not kill.”
He continued to mutter under his breath and Shouta couldn’t stop himself from slightly raising his eyebrow. It appeared that he had just inched right into an analysis. He continued to listen in and found himself bewildered at the sheer amount of good theories and ideas the kid had.
It was an analysis on the pro-hero Frostbite. She could release water out of her skin, transform it into reflective ice and shoot it at villains to incapacitate them. She usually used the shards to pin a villain’s clothing to the wall just to temporarily restrain them.
Shouta hadn’t even thought of the other ways that it could be utilised, not as in depth as he could hear from Midoriya’s muttering at least.
It was shocking, the amount of information the green-haired boy spoke.
It was dangerous.
Shouta didn’t want to startle Izuku, but he did want to guide him, and he was fairly certain, from what he could tell, that Izuku was writing all of his analysis in common Kanji.
That information in the wrong hands? Shouta shivered at the thought of it.
It was a miracle that the notebook hadn’t been found by somebody who wasn’t on the hero’s side.
“Midoriya?”
Izuku startled and looked up, he had been purposefully hiding his presence, so he was unconcerned by the lack of attention on him.
“Yes Mr Aizawa?” Izuku said cautiously.
“I noticed your writing.”
Izuku immediately paled, “You-you don’t think it’s creepy do you?”
“No, no I don’t. I just noticed that it was good. But you’re writing the information in a language everyone here can read. It’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”
Izuku looked stunned as he processed the information. Shouta gave him some time. He was seething inside when he thought about how Midoriya had immediately assumed that Shouta would think it was creepy.
He waited for a few more moments before barreling on. There was no point in waiting for two long after all. It just wasn’t logical.
“I’m not saying you have to stop, but I would like you to have some private lessons with me on how to code your writing. I’m sure you’ll pick it up easily.”
All trace of tension eased itself from Izuku’s face, and Shouta smiled as he nodded firmly.
“That would be a great opportunity for me Aizawa-sensei, I would be honored to have a lesson from you,” he said respectfully.
Shouta smiled once again and was off like the wind.
__________
Izuku was the best student he had ever taught how to code, Shouta thought to himself, proud of Izuku’s progress. He had finally cemented his student’s first name in his brain, and he was glad he could become a teacher that Izuku wanted to trust.
He had had the privilege of watching Izuku learn more and more, hungrily absorbing the information and soaking it into his brain.
He learned cypher and morse, and even taught himself new written codes.
The first time Izuku made his own, Shouta would never admit it, but a smile crossed his lips.
It was invigorating, having such a smart student, and Shouta wondered if that was what he was missing all this time.
Students who were excited to learn, who took constructive criticism well.
He guiltily thought back to when he had nearly expelled Izuku, what he could’ve missed.
But as he did so, other thoughts crossed his mind.
If Izuku was so determined, smart, and was actually this good at analysis, so much so that he had to learn how to code it for fear of it being dangerous, why did his quirk break his bones at the start of the year?
___________
Izuku cautiously made his way to the door, watching his step. He was glad for the lessons, he was delighted by them even, but something was nagging at him. Something waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So instead of wallowing in pity and doubt, Izuku decided to just get it over with.
He found it was very hard to even gather the strength to make it to Mr Aizawa’s office, to knock on the door and enter. Years and years of learned behaviours stacking against him.
He was scared of teachers, didn’t trust them as far as he could throw. But something made Mr Aizawa different. Something made him want to open up to the man.
But he needed to have this one final question answered.
He needed to do this.
Everything inside him screamed not to do this, that Mr Aizawa would turn around and harm him, that he would turn his back and leave him to rot.
But Izuku shut that down. His sensei had been there for Izuku to code his analysis, had taught him how, had been patient and guided him.
If he, with a quirk considered villainous and already with the closeness of being Izuku’s teacher, turned his back on him?
Then Izuku was truly worthless.
So it was with that thought that Izuku rapped on the door smartly and brought his hands down to twiddle his fingers together, a nervous habit that stemmed from the fact that everything else was faced with punishment.
Aizawa came out, looking tired and slightly annoyed. Izuku shrunk back.
Yet his face softened when he glanced down at Izuku, standing in the doorway, and he moved to the side to let Izuku come in.
Izuku wondered if he would still do that when he found out what Izuku used to be. What he still technically was, even with this borrowed quirk.
He opened his mouth before he had even sat down.
“I was quirkless,” he blurted out, and immediately flinched. It was just so direct. But he needed to get the information out there and as much as he would like to beat around the bush, he couldn’t.
Not for this.
So he studied his sensei’s facial expressions.
They were clearly trying to respond, to think up an answer, and as time passed Izuku prepared himself for the rejection that seemed inevitable.
“I’m glad you told me this kid, and I believe you. But can you tell me how that’s the case? I’ve seen you use your quirk before.”
Izuku swallowed, and with one last glance at the text that gave him full permission to tell his sensei everything, he started his story.
And Aizawa listened.