Chapter Text
Izuku is, somehow, not grounded. He only found out this morning, when Father asked him what they were having for breakfast through his unlocked bedroom door. Which means Izuku was allowed to pack lunch. He packed two—one for him and one for Yagi-sensei, who is looking down at it with a big smile and tears welling up his eyes.
“I can,” Yagi starts with a sniffle, “I can eat everything in here, Izuku.”
Having only half a stomach means the list of foods Yagi can eat is relatively small, and Izuku memorized that list months ago.
“You’re so kind,” Yagi continues, before taking a bite of Izuku’s homemade rice porridge.
They eat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Izuku actively ignores the question itching at the back of his skull: what did you want to talk about? He never asks it, because he trusts that Yagi will get there, and that if it was something he needed to be concerned about, Yagi would tell him.
“Izuku, I—” Yagi swallows. “Nothing is wrong, my boy, I just—I need to tell you something.”
Nothing is wrong. Izuku has to consciously stamp down the panic that crawls up his throat. Nothing is wrong.
Yagi fixes a smile on his face and continues, “You’re already a great hero, my boy. I’m sorry we’ve both been so busy and haven’t gotten to talk much, lately, but I want you to know... I’m so proud of you.”
Izuku smiles, whispers a near-silent thanks, even though Yagi's words feel flat. Almost as flat as they did last night, but Yagi is not his father.
“Nedzu told me about your reflection on the USJ attack. He was... impressed.” Yagi cringes with his entire face, so intensely he coughs. “Which is more than a little terrifying, but also the highest compliment he’s capable of.” Yagi sets down his spoon and tries to make eye contact, but fails, and instead stares at Izuku’s eyebrows. “He mentioned you had some theories about the Nomu... that there’s someone—a villain—with a quirk that can give and take other quirks...” He meets Izuku’s eyes. “You were right.”
Izuku freezes.
Yagi sits up straight, and solidifies his face into a serious expression that makes him look like All Might. “I fought him, six years ago. We thought he was dead—I thought he was dead. But, now... we think he’s alive. That he’s creating the nomus. That he’s the leader of the League of Villains...” Yagi drifts off, but his expression doesn't change.
“Why are you telling me this?” Izuku asks, because surely it’s classified information. But more than that—because he doesn’t want to know. Every cell in his body is screaming at him to leave, to run away, for Yagi to stop talking. But Izuku doesn't move. He can't.
Yagi’s features only intensify. “His name is All for One.”
Izuku only half-listens as Yagi tells him about the 200-year-old villain, the brother of One for All’s first holder, how One for All was born with his help, how One for All is the only quirk which stands a chance against All for One. Izuku only half-listens because it's just a coincidence.
It’s just a coincidence. It’s just a coincidence that Father’s quirk is similar. It’s just a coincidence. What’s he even doing, thinking about his Father right now? It’s impossible. It's just a coincidence. Father might be related—a great-great-grandson, or something, or, more likely, it’s just a coincidence. There are billions of humans on this planet, billions of quirks. Any number of them could be similar to Father’s.
It’s just a coincidence that around that time, Father got injured. Maybe he was collateral. Maybe All for One hurt him. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence.
A voice yells Izuku! It sounds like All Might's voice even though it's a woman's.
Yagi is staring at him, face only a foot from Izuku’s, concern tinting his skin pink. “Are you alright, my boy?”
“Of course!” Izuku answers with a smile, even though his heart is pushing against his throat and chest. Even though he can feel it beating against every vein in his body.
How long did he miss? What is Yagi thinking? Does he know?
“Sorry," Izuku starts. "It’s just... that was a lot of information. There’s a lot to think about.”
“Of course...” Yagi leans back, turns to his lunch, and they settle back into what should be silence.
But Izuku’s head is not silent. There is a chatter so loud he can’t understand it, some of it his own voice—worries, anxieties, fears—some of it voices he doesn’t recognize.
After a couple minutes, Yagi speaks up again, “I’m not going to force you to do anything, Izuku, but when I retire... you’ll be the only one left who stands a chance at defeating All for One. In any other circumstance, I would never ask you to take on such a burden, but... when the time comes—" Yagi meets Izuku's eyes. "—will you pick up my mantel? Will you defend the world against All for One?"
“I’d be honored, Yagi-san,” Izuku answers with a big, picture-perfect smile, despite the incessant whispers of that's not a choice. "I’ll defeat All for One.”
Yagi smiles back, relieved.
But some small voice, barely a whisper, contends, even if he’s your father?
And in the shadow of a reflection of an echo, a woman with green hair sobs, I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.
- - -
As the bell rings, Shouto packs up his bag and dreads going home. Before he can stand up, Shinsou steps in front of his desk and says, “Todoroki.”
It’s the first time Shinsou’s ever initiated a conversation with him, and Shouto finds a smile settling onto his face before he can stop it.
Shinsou pales and his eyes widen. He looks like he’s about to run away but then his face relaxes and he sighs. “Buy me a coffee.” It almost sounds like a question, like Shinsou’s way of saying please is making eye contact and speaking a little softer than he usually would.
Shouto nods, stands up, and tries to stifle the smile that’s frozen on his face. They walk to the cafe without saying another word, until Shouto orders both their drinks and they sit down at the corner table.
After taking a sip that’s more like a chug, Shinsou looks into Shouto’s eyes and says, “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, he doesn’t look like Shinsou. But then Shouto realizes that this is what Shinsou really looks like, under his mask of indifference and sarcasm and antagonism, this is Shinsou Hitoshi. A subtle, smooth frown. Eyes soft with vulnerability—with fear. A loneliness in his loose shoulders.
“What for?” Shouto asks.
“Dismissing your experience of abuse,” Shinsou answers automatically. And while it sounds a little practiced, Shouto can hear the authenticity in the barely-perceptible shaking of Shinsuo's hands. “I made assumptions about you based on my own expectations, not who you really are. I don't want your forgiveness. I just want you to know I've recognized my mistake and will work to never do it again.”
Shouto is flooded with relief and he feels like can relax for the first time in weeks.
“Thank you,” Shouto says, “Hitoshi.”
Hitoshi pales again and nearly chokes on his espresso. After a moment, his face settles back into his familiar smirk, although maybe it’s a bit softer, this time—more open. “Slow down there, lover boy. It’ll take more than a couple coffees and some groceries to buy my heart.”
- - -
“To further ensure the safety of everyone involved,” Shouta begins, “we are changing the location of the summer camp. You and your parents will be informed of the new location, day of.” Shouta doesn’t give his students time to react. “Now, your final exam scores.”
He finishes passing out the exams and returns to his podium, small spots appear in his vision. Shouta questions whether he’s had enough iron recently, but instead of dissipating with long blinks and eyedrops, they grow brighter—yellow—and—is this a villain attack? Shouta is immediately on-guard. Something is wrong. A vague anxiety races his heart as he grabs hold of his capture weapon. The yellow is only thickening, further disrupting his vision, and Shouta struggles to keep an eye on his class. They all look equally concerned, on-edge, ready for a fight—except for Midoriya.
Midoriya is staring at his scoresheets, face blank, and glowing yellow. Although his mouth isn’t moving Shouta can almost hear him saying, I did my best. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I did my best.
Out of habit, Shouta activates his quirk. The yellow lights immediately fade, as does the fear, so quickly that if Shouta were a lesser adult he may have mistaken it for a panic attack of his own, but now Midoriya is choking, struggling to breath as if Shouta didn’t stop his quirks, but his lungs.
Shouta does not have the time or luxury to question how any one of Midoriya’s quirk could do this, because Midoriya is in the throes of a panic attack. It, somehow, looks worse than the one Shouta witnessed a couple months ago. Before he can get there and walk Midoriya through it, Shinsou Hitoshi is kneeling beside his desk, a hand on his shoulder, whispering quietly, a gentle expression on his face Shouta didn’t believe the boy capable of.
In front of them, Bakugou shoots to his feet, roughly grabbing his bag. He mutters something too quiet for Shouta to understand, but it sounds almost like attention whore. As he stalks to the door, for a short moment, he interrupts Shouta’s line of sight and he’s nearly blinded by the sharp yellow fear.
This is how Midoriya feels? Shouta hopes that his Empathy quirk is elevating the feeling, somehow, though he doesn’t bet on it. Is this because, for the first time this semester, he didn't place first in the class? Because he got a 99% on the Chemistry final while Yaoyorozu got a 100%? If this is how scared Midoriya feels from getting second place on a test—what in the hell is scaring him so much?
He blinks, manages to find Midoriya again and activate his quirk but the class is already panicking. He hears concerned conspiracies about a villain attack, poison, quirk. The room is at least ten degrees colder than it used to be. A flock of birds peck at the windows as Kouda hides his head under his arms. The lights flicker; Kaminari sparks with lingering static. An uneven hum comes from Iida as he stands at the ready, engines revving.
Shouta had no idea Midoriya’s Empathy quirk was capable of this—of transmitting his own feelings to those around him. Because that's the only explanation for this—for the fear, the yellow lights, the fact that Shouta can Erase it.
Shouta maintains line of sight and keeps his quirk active. “Settle down,” he orders his class. “Everything is alright. Everyone is safe.”
“Bullshit,” one of his students yells, but he doesn’t have the bandwidth to identify who.
How is he supposed to explain this without breaching Midoriya’s privacy? Without telling the whole class he’s having a panic attack? Without making the claim that this has something to do with his Empathy quirk, of which he has no real evidence for.
“What’s wrong?” someone asks quietly. It might be Uraraka. “Is Izuku alright?”
“I believe it is a panic attack,” Aoyama answers with a surprising astuteness, even though he looks like he’s about to throw up.
“What about the lights? The yellow?”
Yaoyorozu speaks up, with a subtle waver in each syllable, “He has an Empathy quirk. I recall him mentioning he sees emotions as colors—auras.”
His students are so astute it threatens to frighten Shouta. Or maybe that’s the lingering of Midoriya’s fear.
Midoriya’s breathing has stabilized, and his eyes are focused on Shinsou.
To test the water, Shouta blinks.
There is no flash of yellow, no fear. Shouta relaxes minutely and turns to the rest of the class, canceling practically everyone’s quirk. The room silences, save Shinsou’s persistent gentle mumblings. “Everything is fine,” Shouta repeats. “Midoriya’s Empathy quirk is flaring up.”
His class does not protest, this time, so he begins walking towards his problem student.
Todoroki Shouto stands in front of him, silent and expressionless. Shouta starts to move around him but Todoroki blocks him without a change in expression. There is a sudden bite in the air, a chill that makes him pause in place.
“Don’t make things worse,” Todoroki states.
Shouta immediately bristles at the accusation, but he gives himself a moment to wonder what makes Todoroki so confident that Shouta will make things worse.
After a short moment, Iida stands next to Todoroki, and while he looks a bit uncomfortable and confused—he keeps re-adjusting his glasses every two seconds and glancing at Todoroki—he stands tall.
“I am a hero and teacher,” Shouta states. “I am trained to handle these kinds of situations, Todoroki. Let me help him.”
Todoroki doesn’t budge. “You’ll only make things worse.”
“I won’t. Trust me.”
“No.”
Iida sputters, but to Shouta’s surprise he doesn’t speak up.
Shouta is sure he has not done anything to Todoroki to garner such distrust. Which means there is another person out there who completely shattered Todoroki’s trust in adults.
Shouta’s always thought Enji would make a terrible father. Maybe he was right.
Shouta stares at Todoroki. He does not say, After the summer camp I will be having a discussion with your father, but he means it.
The tension hangs heavy in the air, neither of them budging, until Iida says, “Might I suggest Recovery Girl or Hound Dog?”
Shouta is temporarily impressed by Iida’s conflict resolution skills, but doesn’t have a chance to linger on the moment.
“Recover Girl,” Todoroki states.
Shouta nods and tells Iida, “Bring her here.”
Iida leaves with a respective bow and one last glance towards Midoriya.
Shouta abandons his stare down with Todoroki to check on the rest of his kids.
Shinsou stands up slowly. He turns around and says, still with an uncharacteristic gentleness, “Uraraka. Come talk to him.”
Uraraka flounders, leaning backwards and waving her hands. “M-me?” Her eyes are wide. “I don’t—what should I say?”
“Distract him,” Shinsou answers immediately, and Shouta is yet again struck by how well this kid is handling this. “Just be yourself. Be nice.”
After a moment the panic falls off her face and Uraraka smiles. She stands up with a confidence she seemed to lack a moment ago and takes Shinsou’s spot beside Izuku’s desk. Shinsou steps back, but remains close.
No one else speaks as Uraraka rambles nothing of consequence. She talks of her small middle school, of her favorite thrift store, of helping her parents with the company, of the limits of her quirk, of her dog. And the tension in the room slowly dissipates, until there are smiles, and even the occasional laughter.
Todoroki still does not move, and neither does Shouta, mainly because he isn’t sure where he’d move to.
By the time Chiyo and Iida arrive, an outsider might mistake his classroom as back to normal.
“Midoriya, dear,” Chiyo calls quietly. “Why don’t we get some air?
Midoriya nods at her. As he stands up to go, Uraraka asks, “Can I give you a hug?”
After a moment, Midoriya smiles, nods, and they hug.
“See you at the summer camp!” Uraraka exclaims.
Something settles across Midoriya’s face. Something that, in another context, Shouta might have identified as resolve. Midoriya states, “See you there,” with a weight that does not make sense, like there is hell.
- - -
In the stark silence of Izuku’s absence, Yaoyorozu whispers, “Is Midoriya-kun okay?”
Nobody answers, likely because they all know the answer already.
Shouta stands back behind his podium. He needs to debrief. He needs to somehow reassure his class. He needs to make sure everyone is actually okay.
Maybe he should go back to university and get a degree in psychology. Or maybe Nedzu just needs to offer a program for teachers titled what to do if a student has a panic attack mid-class.
Shouta lets out a heavy sigh. Class was over four minutes ago. “How are you all feeling.”
No one says anything. Fine. "Uraraka," he starts. "How are you feeling?"
She jumps, then after a moment, says, quietly, “Relieved, I guess. That Izuku’s okay, or, well, okay enough.”
After a moment, Shouta says, "Iida."
Iida answers, “Worried for my friend," but his voice lacks his usual boisterous confidence.
Shouta continues, "Kaminari."
Kaminari's eyes widen, then he says, “Uhhhh, what?"
"How are you feeling?"
"Right. Overwhelmed, and lots of other emotions I don’t have the words for.”
"Shinsou."
Shinsou doesn't hesitate. “Pass.”
One of Shouta’s eyebrows twitch. After a moment, he decides to let it go, but then Shinsou checks his phone and says, “Actually, I’m outta here. Class ended like five minutes ago.”
As he stands up, so does Todoroki, and shortly behind, Uraraka.
“Wait, Shinsou-kun!” she calls across the room. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“No,” Shinsou answers immediately. Then, he adds on, “Do what?”
“Whatever you did to calm Izuku down.”
Yaoyorozu stands up. “I would also like to learn how to do that.”
Iida, “As would I.”
Shinsou lets out a heavy sigh. “Google how to help a friend with a panic attack. You’re welcome.”
Shouta speaks up, “I will coordinate a workshop post-summer camp on panic attacks.” Honestly, he's going to do much more than that when he gets the chance.
That seems to relieve Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, and Iida, but Shinsou just keeps walking to the door.
“Shinsou,” Shouta says as he passes him.
Shinsou pauses.
“I’d like you to stay,” Shouta says, quietly. “We can chat in my office once I’m done here.”
Shinsou looks into Shouta's eyes and says, “No,” with absolutely zero inflection. He turns his head ever so slightly and tells Todoroki, “Let’s go, Romeo.” Then the two walk out. Together.