izuku
“I'll call Sensei.”
Staring down Sir Nighteye, Deku’s eyes seemed to glow.
The glare on the normally sunny boy's face could only be called terrifying.
He subtly leaned back, quietly having second thoughts about confronting Toshinori’s chosen successor.
“Say that again.” - There was no mistaking that venomous growl, and Deku's pinprick eyes froze Mirai in place, - “Question my potential or abilities— ones that my sensei had seen in me, ones that bullies like you have no place to judge— again, and I'll call Sensei.”
Deku titled his head to the side, those glowing dots never leaving his face.
Sir Nighteye slowly nodded.
(He remembered his kouhai, Starstorm: a renowned, well-respected, and well-known Dusk that he had the absolute pleasure to work with on a case four years ago.
He also remembered the woman from something else— a viral interview an ex-mentor of hers gave during Starstorm's first-year internship; where the low-ranking Daylight, Faerie, publicly humiliated the girl for being overweight.
Starstorm threatened the asshole with the same three words (“I’ll call Sensei.”) at the end of that interview, and Faerie had obnoxiously laughed it off.
Two days later, Faerie's ranking hit rock bottom and that woman groveled and begged on live television for Starstorm's forgiveness— a deeply traumatized look on her face.
Mirai recalled clearly who Starstorm's teacher was.
It wasn't All Might.)
A horrifying grin creeped on the boy's face, sending shivers down Mirai's spine, - “That's what I thought.”
In an instant, the room's temperature and overall pressure lifted.
“Now!” - The creepy grin was immediately replaced with a megawatt smile, one that he has seen countless times on Mirio's and Toshinori's sunny expressions, - “Let me ask again— can I conduct my work studies at the Nighteye Agency, Sir?”
Mirai stamped the boy's papers.
—
Izuku never had good experiences with his teachers, or adults in general. Besides Auntie Mitsuki, Uncle Masaru and his own mother, nobody else really cared.
But teachers— oh man, they were his living horrors. Not a single one of the educators Aldera employed gave a fuck about any of their students— even Kacchan was regarded as a prize, an investment.
In those ten years, Izuku was walking through Dante's Inferno with every step he took. Nothing ever changed— even nearly a decade after everything, he still harbors nightmares about his former middle-school teachers.
Their faces were all blurred, their names were crossed out with angry red markers in his mind.
He had let himself hope that UA would be different— now that he was a hero-in-training, now that he had a quirk.
But now, only his first day in and sitting across from his intimidating homeroom teacher, Izuku realized that nothing would ever change.
He would never be enough.
“...sensei?” - Better to get it over with, - “...you called?”
He hated how meek his voice sounded. Izuku knows he's scared, he's terrified actually— but it doesn't make sense.
Aizawa-sensei is a hero— is Eraserhead, the only Pro that's ever seen fighting quirkless— and they're at UA, nothing would happen to him here.
Trauma is one ugly bastard. Aizawa-sensei really cared, just one day in and even the most bull-headed student in their class could tell that the man cared. He wouldn't hurt Izuku.
Not like Masuda-sensei. Not like Chibara-sensei. Not like Yoshida-sensei.
(...Hands all over him… touching… grabbing… it hurts…)
“—oriya. Midoriya!”
Izuku flinched, - “Huh?”
Aizawa-sensei was in front of him now, concern and worry rolling off of him like waves. Izuku hunched in on himself, ashamed.
“Are you okay kid?”
“I-I'm fine.” - He mumbled.
The soft silence that answered him was telling. He was not fine, and they both knew it.
Izuku looked up, tried and struggled to keep eye-contact with his teacher, - “C-can we just— talk about something else? Like why you called me h-here?”
Aizawa-sensei sighed, and sat down on the floor. It was an odd position— with him, the student, in a chair and a good head above his teacher, the authority.
It was… comforting, somehow. He's pretty sure he could bolt out the window if there was any need for it, or run through the door that was left half-open.
Maybe that's why Aizawa-sensei did this.
…or maybe he was just too lazy to walk back to his desk.
That thought made him smile.
“I just want to confirm something with you.” - His teacher started, voice even and tone soft. He opened and showed Izuku a file— Izuku's file.
And right there, right beside the ‘Quirk:...’ line, was a chicken scratch that says ‘Superpower’. Next to it, underlined in red pen, was the date of the Entrance Exam.
“This tells me that you developed your Quirk on the day of the Entrance Exam, is that right?”
“...yes, sir.” - Was his squeaky answer, after a good ten minutes of stewing silence.
He really wanted to cry at this point. Izuku could feel the back of his eyes prickling, and he tried his damn hardest to will it away.
It didn't work.
“Alright Midoriya, thank you for telling me.” - Came Aizawa-sensei's calm voice, - “Now, let's talk about our options here—”
Panic erupted, and he bursted into tears, - “Please don't expel me!”
“Midoriya, what—”
This is a nightmare.
It's all a bad dream, and when he wakes up, he'll be in his room and NOT expelled from UA.
WAKE UP!!
Izuku slapped himself, not even registering the alarmed shout next to him.
It hurts.
NO NO NO NO NO—
This isn't happening.
This isn't happening.
He just got into UA. HE JUST GOT IN.
All Might would be so disappointed. Kacchan would never let him live this down. Mom would be sad.
Why did he ever think he could be a hero?
Why wasn't he enough?
WHY WASN'T HE—
“—breathe in kiddo, yes, that's right— you're doing so well now—”
…he wants to be enough.
…can he be enough?
“—good job Midoriya.” - Aizawa-sensei's worried voice filtered through, his hands clutching Izuku's shaking digits, - “You back with me, Problem Child?”
Izuku tearfully nodded, feeling unreasonably ashamed.
‘Problem Child’?
…he doesn't want to be a problem.
(But even then, the way sensei said it— it sounds almost… fond?)
Aizawa-sensei sighed, looking annoyed, - “Hey. None of that. You're not a problem kiddo, it's just a nickname. As I can see you're uncomfortable, I won't be using it anymore, you hear me?”
…can his sensei read minds or something? Is this a hidden aspect of his quirk? The logic is a bit loose, but Erasure affects the head area— likely due to the increased activity in the neurons; what would that look like, anyway?— which also makes his hair float, minor telekinesis quirk maybe?— but could it potentially directly affect others’ brainwaves? If so, how— can we monitor his brain activity or insert a conducting chip to check?— What about—
A huffed laugh reached his ears, and Izuku startled, making eye contact with his chuckling teacher.
“No, Midoriya, I can't read minds. Very astute observation and analysis, but work on your mumbling. We wouldn't want villains to predict your next move.”
He meekly nodded, embarrassed. His face surely looks like a tomato now, Izuku could feel it burning.
Aizawa-sensei continued, as if his students creepily muttering about vivisecting his brain was a common occurrence not to be concerned about, - “I was about to tell you about your quirk counseling options. You're not getting expelled, kid— who the hell told you that?”
Sheepishly, Izuku murmured a flimsy excuse that Sensei was very unimpressed with.
“Look at me, Midoriya.” - He did, and it was a surprise how easily meeting his teacher's eyes were, - “You have immense potential. The fact that you managed to develop your quirk usage to this level within two weeks is testament to that. Not to mention your analysis skills and that notebook of yours— ‘Hero Analysis For The Future, #13’, correct?”
Izuku nodded, the back of his mind screeching ‘SENSEI NOTICED?!’.
The answer is yes, Aizawa-sensei noticed.
Another huff of laughter escaped the grumpy man, and his teacher continued, - “I wanted to inform you of your quirk counseling options. Superpower is a shit name, I'll be frank with you— and it's undeniably too overpowered for your body to handle— hence, quirk counseling. Your school records were obviously tampered with to hell and back, so the school will be launching an investigation into it as well. With me so far?”
Izuku nodded.
“Right now, you will be enrolled in mandatory quirk counseling and therapy— which we will discuss the specifics with your mother, Principal Nedzu and Hound Dog, who is our head counselor, in a scheduled meeting later.”
“S-sensei.” - He spoke, throat dry from his breakdown earlier, - “Why do I need therapy?”
Aizawa-sensei gave him the most deadpan stare in the history of deadpan stares, passing him a bottle of water, - “You were considered quirkless, Midoriya, and that alone tells me more than it should. You're my student, kid, I don't care that you didn't have a quirk until two weeks ago, you need help. Even if you still don't have a quirk right now, that changes nothing. You’re not my first essentially quirkless student, and I doubt you would be the last.”
…What?
His teacher never faltered, and continued in a matter-of-fact tone, - “There were many students I've taught in previous years who were, for all intents and purposes, passively quirked. These kids were treated as if they were quirkless, and the discriminatory behavior shown to them throughout their previous education is not something UA tolerates on any level. Part of their growth here is their healing journey, and I've been an Under for long enough to know that most of what they experienced weren't pretty.
“The same thing applies to you, Midoriya. You deserve your place here, you deserve to heal, and you deserve to be the best version of yourself the world has ever seen. Do you understand me?”
Does he really?
Some of that must have shown on his face, because Aizawa-sensei looked a bit sad.
“Do you know the Musutafu Crimson Clinic, Midoriya?”
Yes, of course he does.
The Quirkless Community aren't welcomed to any government institutions— hospitals, police stations, governmental parliament, etc.— and they’ve adapted to that. The existence of the Crimson Clinics were kept tightly under wraps— these underground hospitals were the only places they were able to receive fair medical treatment.
The sun will rise from the West before any one of them would willingly give up one of their few lifelines.
The fact that Aizawa-sensei knew had implications Izuku would rather not get into.
Either someone sold them out, or they let him in.
The man took that silence as confirmation, strong hands clasping his’.
“Do you know who runs it?”
Yes, Izuku knows who runs it.
Technically, the one who led the Clinic was Director Akai, nicknamed for his signature black-to-red hair.
The director's family had been part of the community since the beginning, and had a history of either destructive quirks, or none at all. Director Akai was in charge of the administration and all of the background stuff that operates the Clinic.
However, his son, who worked there since he was in his teens, was the unofficial boss. His nickname was Redeye, and despite his young age, he directs the team of doctors and nurses that the Clinic employs with the efficiency of a military sergeant.
Redeye had saved Izuku's life, as well as many other of his similarly quirkless friends, many times during the past twenty-odd years (and counting) that he was active. He was a lanky man, never seen without his face mask, black turtleneck and iconic man-bun.
Besides it's rather hero-dwelling location, the Musutafu Crimson Clinic was also well-known for its four, Very Officially Unofficial ironclad rules—
(Rule #1: No violence.
Rule #2: No shop talk.
Rule #3: Everyone is welcome.
Rule #4: Ask, and Redeye will help.)
—and three odd Nobody-Talks-About mysteries.
(Mystery #1: Nobody from the ‘Outside’ ever bothers them.
Mystery #2: There is an indescribable warmth that the building emits to those who need it.
Mystery #3: Quirks never seemed to work here.)
A young Izuku, having been a curious little lad, tried to investigate the one that interested him the most— Mystery #3.
Besides an amused chuckle and a fatherly hair ruffle from Redeye during his yearly checkup, Izuku never got anything out of that investigation. He never noticed how quirks just don't work in a certain vicinity around Director Akai, or when Redeye's eyes turn red.
Izuku remembers those odd coincidences he never asked about, and connects the dots.
Looking at the man in front of him now— his teacher, his highest ranked idol right next to All Might, the Underground Pro who never shied from anyone who needed help, the man who still cared after he learned about his previous quirk status— Izuku realized he found the answer.
Aizawa-sensei smiled; the soft, affectionate smile that he had seen so many times crinkling the corners of Redeye's eyes underneath the medic-blue face mask. Izuku didn't need to say anything— the man understood.
His sensei took out some files, and presented Izuku with four primary quirk counselors to choose from.
Present Mic, Thirteen, Vlad King, and Eraserhead himself.
He didn't hesitate in pointing to the last file, the one with Aizawa-sensei's blank face plastered across the portfolio.
—
“YOU WHAT?!”
“Aizawa-senpai, please—”
“YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHTS TO TALK, YOU MORONIC HALF-ASSED SCARECROW! WHY IN THE PISSING MOTHER OF HELL WOULD YOU CRUSH A SUICIDAL KID'S DREAM THEN FUCKING LEAVE THEM ON A GODDAMN ROOFTOP—”
“I know, it was stupid—”
“THAT'S NOT STUPID, IT'S DOWN RIGHT BRAINLESS YOU IMBELLIC BLONDE STICK—!! IF THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, YOUR FETUS BUNNY-EARED BRAIN DECIDED THAT SINCE THE QUIRKLESS KID YOU NEARLY KILLED SHOWED THIS INGENIOUS THING CALLED COMMON SENSE YOU’D GIVE HIM A MOTHERFUCKING QUIRK THAT COULD'VE KILLED HIM—”
“Senpai, please…”
“‘JUST CLENCH YOUR ASS AND YELL ‘SMASH’’?! ‘JUST CLENCH YOUR ASS AND YELL ‘SMASH’’?!!! TWO BILLION YEARS OF EVOLUTION, AND THIS IS HUMANITY'S IDEA OF THE SYMBOL OF FUCKING PEACE?! TWO. BILLION. YEARS. WASTED. TWO BILLION YEARS, I TELL YOU!!”
“...S-senpa— hic…”
“YOU BETTER PROP YOUR EYES OPEN YOU PATHETIC UNDERINFLATED BALLOON-HEADED TWIG— BECAUSE THAT KID YOU SAID COULDN'T BE A HERO WITHOUT A QUIRK WILL BE A BETTER ONE THAN YOU COULD NEVER DAYDREAM TO BE—”
“Hic… hic… l-language sen-senpai… HIC...”
“I speak a fucking total of eight languages— Japanese, English, JSL, ASL, Korean, French, German and Vietnamese— and none of them are called ‘Idiot’. So no, I don't fucking speak your language, Ass Wipe— because I actually have class and would prefer to not dull myself by being around someone whose IQ is as redacted as their hairline—”
“...*sob*...”
“A glowstick has a brighter future than you and you DARE to tell the brightest, kindest and most heroic child I've ever had the pleasure to teach and mentor that he couldn't be a hero— Were you born on a motherfucking highway you block-headed anserine skeleton? Because statistically speaking, it's where most accidents happen—”
All Might didn't even retort, only sobbing harder and sounding like his entire purpose in life just got shattered.
Well, to be fair, it was.
Izuku, who was right outside the door to where his scathingly angry and protective Aizawa-sensei was beating the Number One Pro Hero down with a proverbial metal bat, heavily sweat dropped.
Aizawa-sensei worked fast.
He finally mustered up the courage to tell his teacher about One For All and the events leading up to it in today's last period, receiving a gut wrenchingly tender hug from his grumpy cat-sensei and a soft ‘You're very brave, Izuku.’ in return.
The man then immediately disappeared somewhere, and Izuku heard second-hand from a terrified Vlad King that Aizawa looked pissed after his meeting with Nedzu and was tracking down All Might like a rabid wolf.
This was the aftermath.
It was… strangely validating. To know that All Might was wrong, and that Izuku could still be a hero even without One For All.
To be frank, he was valuing Sensei's words and opinions much more than he should, seeing as his actual mentor was getting roasted over an active volcano under the noon sun during a hot summer day by the other man— but since Yagi wasn't the one who still cared after learning he was quirkless, offered quirk counseling so his poor mother wouldn't waste what little money she has left to pay his medical bills or stop him from continuously harming himself over and over for a stupid legacy— Izuku's gonna listen to the adult that actually gives a shit about him.
Yagi seems to be regretting a lot of his poor life decisions now, as Aizawa-sensei rips into anything and everything that the Pro ever did wrong.
(As he should, that one Silver Age costume of his was a tragedy.)
Sensei was brutal. Nothing was left out. Yagi was a literal snotty blob on the floor once he was through.
Izuku's emotions were a mess, a storm of satisfaction mixed with guilt and happiness taking prominence in his chest.
…thank you, Aizawa-sensei.
The moment his sensei stepped out of that conference room, Izuku tackled him in a bone-shattering hug.
The famous Midoriya tears were spilled excessively that day, much to the fond exasperation of his gruff, sleep-deprived teacher.
(A few days later, Aizawa-sensei tracked Yagi down again, this time to offer an apology.
Or what… sounds like an apology.
“As your co-worker, senior and head supervisor, my outburst was unprofessional and completely unnecessary. Therefore, I apologize.”
Yagi looked like a dead fish— his eyes wide while his mouth was gaping. Izuku was half-way into hysterics, head flinging between looking at Aizawa-sensei and Yagi.
Before either of them could gather their bearings, Aizawa-sensei spoke again.
“However, as myself, Midoriya's homeroom teacher and a hero, I’ll say ‘Sorry, not sorry’. You fucking deserved that dress down. Ta.”
Like a hurricane, Aizawa-sensei came and went like it wasn’t his business how the hell mere mortals handled the property damage he created.
Their jaws were still on the floor.)
(After all that was said and done, the blonde man gave a very genuine apology and practically groveled at Izuku's feet for his forgiveness. Yagi really didn't know better, since having gained a quirk and being the Number One Hero for over half a century detached him from the community's struggles, so forgiving the man's mishaps was easy.
He would never forget though, and Yagi completely understood.
Aizawa-sensei had allowed Yagi to attend Izuku's quirk counseling sessions for now as an Assistant Teacher, and the other man was shaping up to be a better mentor under his Senpai's guidance.)
(It was hilarious. All Might was referring to someone as senpai. What he would give to learn how that came about.)