Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aizawa tells him it will be easier if he faces it head on, before classes start back up after the weekend—so they go back Sunday night.

It's quiet, no one awaiting his arrival—just the sound of the gate buzzing open and their footsteps against concrete.

Eventually, they come to a crossroads, and Izuku finds he really, really doesn't want Aizawa to leave. But he's not a kid, and he's been alone this long. He can do it another day.

"I-I think I want to talk to All Might first." Izuku admits.

"I thought so." Aizawa admits. "When you're done, send Bakugou my way, will you?" Izuku holds his breath, feeling unfairly betrayed.

"I've been trying to give you the most choices regarding this process." Aizawa admits, addressing Izuku's wounded look. "But this is non-negotiable. Reviewing his behavior towards you has put them in a new, unflattering light. I refuse to stand by—if I did, I'd be no better than your past teachers. But I value your input—you know him better than me and you're the most affected."

"You can't expel him. He has so much potential—"

He nods. "In that case, I'll be as merciful as I can allow. That does not mean he'll go unpunished—if his behavior hasn't changed it'll mean the opposite—which I understand you'll see as unfair but trust me—that is merciful. If he has, I'm receptive towards something lighter and less permanent."

The relief for Kacchan is akin to his own, like his pain had been to Kacchan. "He's changed. He—he's been helping me with, with the videos, and getting through it." Izuku admits shame faced. "He fought me a lot, too—not physically!" He says at Aizawa's jolt of (fear.

"He—he's actually wanted to tell you. A lot."

Aizawa stares, probably trying to determine his sincerity. "Good." He nods finally. "I'll remember that. If he isn't there by two, I'm coming back."

Izuku acquiesces and Aizawa puts a careful hand on his head, and Izuku isn't afraid.

"You're ready?" He checks in.

Izuku just shrugs, but the determined gleam is clear, and Aizawa leaves him to it.

He heads into the staff room, thankfully empty due to the time save for All Might, who Izuku knows typically stays pretty late--even on weekends.

"Hi." Izuku announces stiffly. All Might pops up, blinking tiredly from his place in the chair. "Midoriya!" He calls immediately, then coughs and brings a hand to his mouth. "Apologies--I didn't expect to see you here today."

"I didn't really expect it either." Izuku admits, eyes not meeting his idol's. He--feels unexpectedly humiliated. Like now that everyone knows, they've seen the real him. They've seen the real him, and he doesn't think they like what they see.

"I heard about--everything." All Might starts awkwardly. "I--had no idea. I didn't know that discrimination had gotten so--ah." He waves off. "Anyway, I...I won't ask, I'm sure you've had enough of that. But I am here for you. And I'm willing to listen, should you need an ear."

"You don't--you don't think I'm...weak? Or..." like I deserved it?

"Midoriya." He chides softly. "I could never think that of you, and from what I've heard and seen--It only strengthens my resolve in you, the fact that you can remain so kind and heroic--any doubts I could possibly have has long been dispelled."

Izuku traps him in a spontaneous hug, tight and emotional. "Thank you."

All Mights anxious demeanor melts away, and his arms wrap around Izuku like a warm blanket. "Of course, my boy." He murmurs.

Just his entire class, now.

Aizawa isn't there to come drag him into confrontation, having trusted Izuku to go through with it on his own. He did not account for the fact that despite Izuku's tendency to jump into danger, he is in fact a coward.

He sneaks up, concerningly easy considering Kaminari and Sero in front of the tv on the floor, Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Hagakure talking solemnly at the table, and Kacchan in the kitchen.

If he isn't there by two, I'm coming back. Fuck. Ok—he'll just text him. It's fine.

"You're cheating!" Izuku hears faintly from downstairs as he trod up the steps, texting Kacchan all the while. "Am not! And you pushed me first!" Kaminari responds.

1:32
Aizawa wants to see you in his office.

He really should've watched where he was going, but hindsight and all.

"Apologies, Midoriya." Tokoyami responds, not outwardly surprised at the collision or Izuku's arrival besides a blinking dark shadow. "We did not see you."

"No I—should've looked where I was going. Uh—could you maybe not tell anyone I'm here?" Izuku asks him.

He nods slowly. "If that is what you wish.

Izuku sighs. "Thanks—we really appreciate it."

Dark shadow continues blinking at him and moving from one side of Tokoyami to the other, unusually quiet, and Tokoyami tilts his head then bows it. They head off, then turn back. "We're glad you're back."

"Yeah—me, me too."

One down. Eighteen to go.

__________________________________

The UA door is as large and grandiose as always, but the loud questions and demands behind it make it seem fragile, like just breathing on it will have it tumbling down and baring Izuku to everyone behind it.

He takes a breath, remembers Aizawa's words, and twists the handle.

The class quiets like the calm after a thunderstorm, the sound of submerging your head under violent crashing waters.

He pauses at the doorway for a moment too long, hands gripped around his backpack and shoulders tensed.

He ducks his head, hating the image he must make—he's not that kid anymore—and shuffles to his desk under rotating heads.

Stop looking.

"Eyes to the front." Aizawa commands, and Izuku's head snaps up. Aizawa just gives an imperceptible nod and continues on, any hushed voices stricken down immediately.

Even the class that had been absent for Aizawa's lessons seemed to know what was going on, or at least the severity of it.

Something about this room, about the blank screen—about the way they all seem to want answers—it gets to him.

Anxiety and annoyance build, remembering the feeling of sitting in a worn-down middle school desk while a bunch of vultures drooled in their seats for a piece of meat.

It's different—these people are just concerned—but the weight in his chest, the unease, the anticipation and jump at each sound—it all feels the same.

Aizawa drags the class past his usual benchmark just ahead of the bell and Izuku wonders if it's to deter their usual after class chattering.

But he can't control them after class.

The bell rings, and it seems the whole class moves as one body, not darting to him with loaded abundant questions, just hovering around like circling birds.

"Midoriya," Uraraka calls after he ducks past the living statues, ignoring her call.

Distantly he hears Iida—'said not to pester him'—Thanks for trying Aizawa sensei.

A hand wraps around his bicep, and he swears their fingers sharpen into claws. He twists instinctively, but Kacchan's face is the only one that comes into focus.

"Go to the dorms, tonight." Is all he says, head ducked and already stalking away with his hands in his pockets.

He blinks, but nobody follows since Kacchan's entrance, the hallway clear of familiar faces.

"So." He jumps, a startled yelp bursting out of him. Aizawa is standing with his arms crossed, not angry, more—painfully amused. "You didn't talk to them."

He huffs, shoe scraping at the floor. "Couldn't."

Aizawa hums, coming to lean against the wall with him. "It's going to be harder now that they've waited a whole class in suspense."

"I know that." He bites under his breath. He regrets it immediately. Aizawa isn't angry either—just, surprised.

"I'm sorry—I don't know why I feel so—" fists clench—relax.

Aizawa is a steady figure besides him, but the anger doesn't wane. "Let's head to the gym." He speaks finally. "Seems like you could use it."

He's right—it feels like someone else takes over his skin, beaten down anger roaring to the front and destroying the field. Like he's in the passenger seat, and all the destruction and hatred and long buried resentment is the remnants of another far away life.

But it helps—the angry wasps soothed under his skin. Anger drained, something else taking its place. Aizawa is not shocked by the sudden painful cries, just takes a sobbing Izuku in his arms and holds him together. It leaves him drained, a lifetime worth of pain ignored by him and everyone else demanding to be heard—but it's a little less than before, a little calmer.

He thinks—it's probably time to confront the others.
__________________________________

In the common room—practically the entire class waits, bitten nails and tapping feet.

Kirishima straightens at seeing him, shark teeth curving with his smile. "Mido—"

"Kacchan told me you wanted to talk to me." Izuku rushes quickly, throwing the other kid under the bus immediately.

He isn't there to correct him, having been permanently scheduled for mandatory anger management, so the lack of angry denials is honestly both disquieting and yet not unpleasant.

"Yes—" Iida starts, standing up stiffly. "We wanted to address the situation as a class—"

Kaminari groans and wipes a hand across Iida's face. Says something about Iida's stiff approach as Iida reprimands him for his behavior. It soothes him, just a little.

"We don't see you any different." Mina pipes over the two, used to their shenanigans. "And we just wanted to say—what happened was—terrible. And we're here for you."

Uraraka nods rapidly, eyes determined. "And we asked Aizawa sensei and he said he was working towards getting that whole school taken down for negligence and discrimination and be held liable for any--uh, for injuries." She ends awkwardly, eyes dipping down and face red.

"Oh." Izuku says faintly. He doesn't know how to feel about that—doesn't know what to do with his body now that he feels on display.

"Yeah." Kaminari adds once he's stopped pestering Iida. "It—it wasn't cool. It was actually pretty awful."

"Yeah, it—oh." Izuku starts, Todoroki having walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We are here to help." He's so genuine, and Izuku sees Sero face planting in his hand at his stilted blatantness. "T-thank you."

Kirishima huffs, eyes downcast. "I don't understand how a person can do that to another person—"

"I mean," Izuku pipes in quietly, eyes glued to his feet. "I was the only quirkless kid at my school—"

"We don't give a fuck, Midoriya." Jirou interrupts. "Even if you were still quirkless."

The waterworks fill his eyes, and a myriad of gentle arms rest around his shoulders.

"Oh—Midoriya!" Voices cry out, not a single voice anything but welcoming and concerned.

Izuku was diagnosed quirkless at four years old. From that moment on, people in his life treated him like garbage, subhuman. All the people he loved turned on him in all different ways, and his entire life he had yearned for a single person to just not give a damn. To see his worth outside of his quirk status. He has not had a single person stand up for him in his entire life.

The heavy weight that is these facts weighed on him like rocks tied to his waist, struggling not to meet the ocean floor.

He thinks maybe the ropes have been cut loose, or at least a hand has reached to anchor him—and that maybe fighting against the current won't be so hard. Maybe he'll finally have something to fight for.