Chapter Text
Monday, ??
“Eraserhead!”
Shota froze abruptly, spinning around to where the voice had come from. He’s perched on the edge of a building, high enough up that people don’t tend to notice him, especially at this hour. He’s honestly a bit surprised by the voice; his gaze instantly dropping to the direction of the call.
The voice comes from the ground—a darkened alleyway. There’s no lighting, and from this distance he can hardly make out anything below, even when he squints.
The thing is, he doesn’t get identified—never in his life had his Hero name been called out randomly when he’s on patrol. Villains know his name, but not his face or costume, and Heroes on similar routes wouldn’t call out to him.
Someone, whoever this is, knows him when they shouldn’t. They know him enough to know his name, and be able to match it to his costume—to know his patrol route.
Nothing about this was normal.
He doesn’t call back, just keeps silent until a figure, fairly small, emerges from the shadows. He sees the calculating tilt of the figure's head just barely as he, judging by the voice, cocks his attention back and forth appearing formulating.
Shota still doesn’t announce his presence any more than already announced. He has no idea who this person is, even if the voice is faintly familiar. That though, means nothing to a Hero; not every voice he hears is that of a friend, even if this one does sound friendly.
Shota recoils in surprise, almost losing his footing as he jerks to his full height, when the small figure lights up with sparks of green. It’s obviously a Quirk, but like no Quirk Shota has seen before.
It’s almost blinding how the lightning coils around the small figure as if its coursing through his veins. Shota watches stunned as whoever this is bounces swiftly between the building Shota is perched on and the neighboring building like a game of Pong.
When the person was close enough to the top, they took one last Quirk enhanced leap before landing with precision on the side of Shota’s building and scaling the rest of the way up until he could pull himself up over the ledge.
“I—” the figure wheezes when he’s finally got both feet on the rooftop, hunched over as he sucks in a couple deep breaths, “—am so glad I found you! I’ve been looking for hours!”
The voice is young, Shota knows that much. The small stature makes it obviously clear that this is a teenager—probably no older than his own first year students.
Shota can’t help but wonder what this teenager is doing out at this time; using a Quirk no less.
Does he not know the laws?
Shota squints once again at the figure, finally able to take him in as he’s bathed in the pale moonlight.
The child wears green—a full suit of green with black detailing. It’s one solid piece, and it’s ripped and torn; dirty. There’s a hood on the green costume, but it’s almost completely torn in two, still, Shota spies dark green curls hidden behind torn fabric.
He frowns as he takes the child in completely.
It almost looks like a Hero costume, maybe, but there’s absolutely no way this kid is a licensed Hero. He’s far too young.
But he also isn’t a student that Shota knows. He’s doubtful the teen is older than fifteen, and Yuuei is the only Hero school in the radius—this kid is definitely not a 1-A or a 1-B student.
And if he were, he’d know that Quirk usage is prohibited.
Still, he can’t ignore the fact it looks like this child has been in a fight quite recently. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was injured or bruised beneath that costume. The teacher and Pro Hero tug at the cautious part of Shota’s thoughts until: “What happened to you?”
Despite staring at Shota, the teenager startles before releasing a breath when he’s addressed.
He rubs at the back of his neck before pausing, almost as if the question finally hits him. The calmness in the boy’s face jolts to something more nervous and cautious, “w-wait. Don’t... don’t you remember? The fight? The villain? I-I saw you doing crowd control—”
“Remember?” Shota cocks an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. He doesn’t know what the kid’s getting at, but he hasn’t been in a fight tonight, and certainly not with whoever this is. “Kid, I don’t even know you. And there’s no way in hell I’d be in a fight with someone like you—you're a literal child.”
“Y-you don’t—” the kid sucks in a shaky breath, reaching up to rake his fingers through dirty green curls. Shota furrows his brow as the child takes a shaky step back away from him, but doesn’t try to leave, “you don’t r-remember... it’s me, Eraserhead, it’s Midoriya!”
Midoriya. The name rings a bell, honestly. But he can’t put his finger on why.
“Please,” the child begs desperately, “you-you need to, you’ve gotta, gotta remember! I-I—I’m Midoriya, Sensei, Midoriya Izuku. Please, you know me! Please tell me you remember me!”
The name clicks into place and Shota feels his lip curl in disgust. What the hell is this? What kind of ruse is this? What kind of a set up? What the hell does this guy have planned here? What’s his angle?
Shota knows that name—God, there isn’t a Pro who doesn’t at this point.
Shota sneers at the teenager across from him. His defense raises like the hairs on the back of his neck as he glares steadily, ready and waiting for whatever will come from this encounter. He narrows his gaze when the teen shifts; just the thought of sharing this rooftop with Japan's most notorious villain makes his skin prickle. “Deku.”
“Y-yes!” the teenager cries out in relief, taking a small step towards Shota, “I’m Deku! I’m so g-glad you—”
“Deku,” Shota growls darkly, flicking out his capture weapon hastily to snag the villain before he can make his move. He's quick to tug it taut, leaving no room for Deku to escape. “You’re under arrest.”
“I-I’m what?! W-wait!”
Tuesday, ??
Deku doesn’t say a thing.
They’re at the station now. He’d dragged the villain there himself, not trusting waiting for any back up or a police escort. The faster he had Deku really contained, the better for the entirety of Japan.
Now, Deku is contained in Quirk cancelling cuffs, cuffed to the table in one of the interrogation rooms. He looks... well, scared is what Shota would say. It’s not fear of being arrested and detained, it’s more... genuine fear. A genuine fear that Shota can’t place.
Shota stands behind the two-way glass with Tsukauchi, both of them watching the teenager intently. Deku hasn’t spoken since his arrival at the station, just kept his head ducked as he wrings his hands together nervously. The teen tugs and prods at his own hands, and it frankly looks like it hurts.
“This is Deku?” Tsukauchi asks at Shota’s side, eyes studying the child as his lips curl downwards into a small frown, “I expected him to be... I don’t know. Angrier? To have more attitude? He’s been caught— I mean, he's not even smug about it. I expected more smart responses. He just looks... defeated.”
“Terrified,” Shota adds with a grimace. He shakes his own frown away, forcing his features back to indifference as he crosses his arms over his chest, “yeah, that’s really Deku. Midoriya Izuku. He introduced himself. Confirmed who he was. That’s him. No doubt.”
Tsukauchi crosses his own arms over his chest, frown deepening as he finally tears his gaze away from the teenager locked to the table in the room, “something doesn’t feel right here, Eraser.”
That much Shota can agree with.
This is weird. This whole thing. Deku searching for him. Deku basically turning himself in. Deku had put up almost no resistance when trapped in Shota’s capture weapon; he hadn’t squirmed, or seemed surprised after that initial shock of it constricting around him. It didn’t make sense because everyone always tried to wriggle out of his scarf, and it was always a futile effort.
But Deku hadn’t. He’d just slumped into its hold and gave up entirely. He’d given up before even trying like he knew it was useless to even entertain the idea of escaping. But how could he know?
The more he sees of this kid, the more questions he has.
Upon arrival, after being cuffed and released from the capture weapon, the pouches on Deku’s utility belt had been emptied and examined. He’d been patted down like any criminal, and the teen had been so close to tears Shota had almost wanted to promise it would be alright.
He didn’t— this is still Deku, the villain who'd brought the world of Heroics to its knees in nothing more than a year. The villain who’s had a hand in ending dozens of Hero’s careers, and who’d assisted Shigaraki with his attacks on Yuuei—endangering Shota’s kids on more than one occasion.
They hadn’t found a lot of things on his persons, but there was a Yuuei ID card—one that Shota knows doesn’t exist. It’s a fake, it has to be, but he’d still spent a good hour staring down at Midoriya Izuku’s smiling little face trying to figure out how it was faked. How something fake could be so realistic.
When they’d found the card, Shota had gotten into contact with Nezu, because who else was there to call except for the smartest creature in all of Japan, who just so happened to be the Yuuei principal. If anyone would be able to tell how Deku managed to make such a realistic school ID card, it would be him.
As expected, the rodent had been intrigued by not only the situation itself, but by the forged ID card that not even one of Nezu’s teachers could debunk. The rat had promised to make his way over to the station, and Shota doesn’t doubt that he’ll be arriving shortly.
“Do you think something happened to him?” Shota draws his attention from the teen to glance at Tsukauchi. The detective isn’t looking at Shota, eyes still narrowed on Deku.
“Not sure,” Shota frowns. “His arrest was weird; I can’t deny that. There could be some ulterior motive—I wouldn’t put it past Deku to have a plan in motion, I just can’t figure out why he’d risk being arrested. Then again, it could be something like amnesia, or a Quirk’s influence maybe—whatever it is, we should be thankful for it. It’s a much safer place with him off the streets, Heroes can finally have some peace of mind.”
“I don’t know,” Tsukauchi finally looks away from Deku, “it feels too easy, Eraser. Deku has hardly let us see him—he's a behind the scenes kind of guy. I just... this seems too good to be true.”
Shota shrugs, but the thought nags at him too.
They watch Deku intently as they wait. The teen doesn’t move. He doesn’t look up at his surroundings, look for an escape or diversion. He keeps his head ducked. The only movements they can see are how he’s fidgeting anxiously with his own fingers—tugging almost subconsciously at the cuffs.
Deku hasn’t seen anyone since he’d been escorted into the room and cuffed to the table. He hadn’t put up any fight, has simply settled tensely in the chair and hovered his cuffed hands over the table to be cuffed in place, like he knew the procedure.
Neither Shota or Tsukauchi leave the window until Nezu arrives. After warm greeting from the rodent, Tsukauchi leads Nezu into his office, where Deku’s utility belt, belongings and ID card are sitting.
The rodent lets out a pleased hum, taking the card into his paws and examining it closely—both front and back. His whiskers arch forwards as he studies the ID. Finally, Nezu looks away from it, expression unreadable.
“This is one-hundred percent authentic, I’m afraid,” Nezu sets the card flat on the desk, leaning away from it with a perturbed expression, “no forgery whatsoever. Rather fascinating.”
“It’s real, but he’s not a student at Yuuei?” Tsukauchi blinks in surprise.
“Indeed,” Nezu hums, whiskers twitching, “according to the ID card, he’s supposed to be a first-year this year. The serial number on the card is quite similar to those of the most current 1-A students, but I can’t say this specific number had been assigned to anyone.”
“Wait,” Shota narrows his eyes dangerously, “so you’re telling me if we tried this card on the Yuuei gates, the doors would open? Deku has access to the school? To the students?”
“I have no reason to believe they wouldn’t,” Nezu shrugs, paws clasping together across the small of his back, “it is an authentic Yuuei ID card, Aizawa-kun.”
“But how?” the underground Hero pushes.
“Well, that, Aizawa-kun, is the question, now isn’t it? Why don’t we ask Deku?” Nezu suggests brightly, already stepping towards the interrogation room. Tsukauchi shoots Shota an unsure look before following after the rodent. Shota himself huffs a breath as he snags the card off the table and follows after them with slumped shoulders.
He doesn’t imagine this will go well, and the bright glint in Nezu’s eyes is never a good thing.
He already feels a headache starting.
Deku barely looks up when they enter the interrogation room.
There are three chairs in the room—two across from Deku where Tsukauchi and Nezu sit, and one on the side of the table where Shota plops down. Deku squirms a little where he’s still sitting, his cuffs clinking against the metal tabletop as the two Heroes and Detective settle.
Deku’s eyes flicker briefly over all three of them before his gaze is dropping back to his lap. His fingers twitch, and Shota’s eyes trail over the scars lining Deku’s hands. He wonders where the villain got them all; as far as they’re aware, Deku is all brains and no brawn when it comes to his villain work. He doesn’t usually get his hands dirty, just supplies the information for others to do so.
“Good evening, Deku,” Nezu chirps with a wide smile, “well, I suppose at this hour, it’s good morning, hm? Nevertheless, it’s nice to finally be meeting you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you! Quite the track record you have!”
“Nezu-Sensei,” a tiny, hardly there, voice greets back. Deku still isn’t looking up, but Shota supposes him talking is better than nothing. Even if he won’t face them.
The teen sounds drastically different to the kid Shota had met on the rooftop just hours earlier—nothing but a whisper compared to the Deku Shota had briefly talked to before arresting.
Nezu’s smile widens as he leans closer. His features are sharp and almost animalistic: Shota almost pities the kid on the receiving end.
Almost.
“So you know me then, Deku?” Nezu chirps, genuinely pleased with the fact, “I must say, it’s rather odd of you to address me as Sensei when you’re not a student at my school. And I hear you also know Eraserhead quite well; it’s strange that you’d address Eraserhead as Sensei as well, considering it’s not common knowledge that he even teaches at Yuuei.”
Deku’s head ducks down further until his dirty curls are curtaining his eyes. He doesn’t say anything.
Silence lingers for a long moment.
Deku’s head is still ducked, Tsukauchi is watching the teen with a furrowed brow and that tiny frown, while Nezu is studying the teenager intently, unbothered by the tense silence.
“Well,” Tsukauchi clears his throat when it’s clear no one else is going to break the silence, “you know Eraserhead and Nezu-San then, but you probably don’t know me. I’m Detective—”
“Detective Tsukauchi,” the small voice offers, “your Quirk is Lie Detector. I know you too.”
That’s surprising—Shota probably would’ve startled if he didn’t have years of remaining uninterested under his belt. Tsukauchi shifts a bit uncomfortably, while Nezu’s grin sharpens into something almost scary. It’s clear none of them were expecting that.
“So, you’ve strayed from taking down Heroes and you’re moving onto law enforcement then? Expanding your horizon, or just tired of ruining Hero careers solely?” Shota asks drily, eyes narrowed on the kid.
He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it certainly isn’t for the boy’s head to shoot up, genuine disbelief in his expression. His mouth hangs open, and he stares blankly into Shota’s own eyes. The kid swallows thickly like all the moisture in his mouth and throat sapped out of him in surprise, “I do what?”
Shota and Tsukauchi share a quick look, but Nezu doesn’t tear his eyes away from Deku. Black beady eyes watch the child sharply, almost calculatingly. “You seem surprised by that, Deku.”
Tears are welling in the teenager’s eyes, and Shota frowns at the sight. Villains don’t tend to cry—frankly, anger is the emotion that tends to surface more often than not. Anger and desperation. He supposes that this villain is also a teenager, but still... he’d never expected Deku to cry.
Honestly, the kid just couldn’t be farther from the Deku he’s seen and heard about. From the stories and whispers he hears from the rumor mill about the green-haired villain ruining lives without so much as lifting a hand.
Nezu blinks in surprise when he notices as well, but besides that there’s no tell the rodent has even acknowledged the tears.
Deku is still staring at Shota like he’s waiting for the man to tell him it’s a joke—like he’s praying it is all just one big joke, which it’s not. Shota doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but it’s real. It may not make sense, but it definitely is real.
His patience lapses for a second as the teen stares rudely; he’s had a long day of teaching, and then patrol, and he hadn’t even been able to nap during homeroom yesterday morning, considering Kaminari had short circuited while trying to charge all eighteen of his classmate's phones at once. He really doesn’t mean to snap out an unimpressed “well?” when the teenager takes too long to reply to Nezu.
Deku jolts like Shota’s voice physically pains him, and then his poorly constructed façade is crumbling as tears trail down his freckled cheeks.
He sniffles miserably and curls into himself as much as he can in his restraints. He’s blubbering too; loud and heartbreaking in that way only children in true distress can, “I-I didn’t do anything!” “I-I’m a H-Hero, I’m, I’m not a villain!” “I’m s-so-sorry!” “I don’t k-know how I got here!” “Puh-Please Sensei!” he rattles out in rapid succession, hardly even breathing.
There’s more too, mutters and mumbles and whines, but those are just what Shota can make out between the sobbing and panic stuttered breaths; he hates how the fear in the teen’s voice sounds genuine enough that it curls unpleasantly in Shota’s stomach.
Tsukauchi must feel the same if the pinch of unsure distress in his face is anything to go off.
They let the child work his way through his emotions.
For a second, Shota really wants to help the kid; he’s been a teacher too long to not feel his heart crumble at the utter distress, but Nezu holds up a hand that stops him in place. He grits his teeth, but doesn’t move any further then shifting in his seat.
He doesn’t agree with letting the child verge on passing out from lack of breathing as he sobs, but now is not the time to go against Nezu’s orders. He has to keep reminding himself that this is Deku. Deku who’d aided in attacks on Yuuei, like the USJ.
It takes a while, but soon Deku is calming down.
The sobs settle into slight sniffles, and his head is ducked once again hiding away tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. He wiggles around enough to be able to wipe his wet cheeks on his shoulders, and winces minutely as he does so. Huh.
Deku is quiet for another long second, the only thing heard is his stuttered breaths from the crying episode until, “I don’t belong here.”
It’s a quiet admission, and Shota has to strain to hear it.
“Is that so?” Nezu hums, clasping his fingers together and settling his paws on the table top, “you know, Deku, you’re right. You won’t be here long, I’m afraid. You’ve done some terrible, terrible things. Hurt people, killed others. There’s a special place in Tartarus for people like you.”
Shota thinks that might be a little harsh—it's true, sure, but the kid had literally just cried to the point he couldn’t breathe. Nezu isn’t one for knowing human emotions though—nor is he one for beating around the bush. Still, Shota sucks in a surprised breath and tries not to glare at his boss for his bluntness.
Deku’s face twists up like he’s about to start crying again, but he manages through a couple deep breaths. He keeps the tears at bay, but doesn’t get rid of them.
Slowly, the boy looks towards Tsukauchi. “I don’t belong here,” he repeats softly.
Tsukauchi looks like he’s at a loss, but his face doesn’t pinch in that way it does when someone lies to him. The detective draws in an unsteady breath, “where do you belong, Deku?”
“I-I,” the teen swallows down his wobbly voice, “I don’t know. But it’s not here. I don’t— I’m not— this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. I-I'm not a villain, I’m a Hero. I have my-my Provisional License, but I don’t know where it is.”
“Deku,” Shota speaks again, softening his voice just slightly. Unlike Nezu, he will alter his voice for the sake of calming the kid—villain or not, he’s still a child. Deku slowly drags his attention to Shota where his body wilts and his bottom lip wobbles. Shota slips the ID card from his pocket and sets it down on the table. He slides it towards the teenager as he continues, “where did you get this?”
His lip wobbles even more, “y-you gave it to me, Sensei... I’m in class 1-A.”
“I didn’t,” Shota tells him.
“You did,” Deku cries out desperately, “you did, Sensei, you really did. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m n-not lying. I’m not lying, am I Detective Tsukauchi...?”
“He’s not,” Tsukauchi hums under his breath, glancing between the two Pros.
“We’ve never actually met, Deku,” Shota tells him quietly, because they haven’t.
He’s honestly never really met Deku. He’s seen him in passing, he’s seen Deku with the League, but they haven’t met. And he sure as hell has never given the kid a school ID, not when the kid isn’t even in his class. Deku is a villain.
“I don't belong here,” the boy warbles, and he’s starting to sound like a broken record. “Y-you’re my Sensei, m-my homeroom Sensei. You w-wrapped me in your capture weapon and told me I couldn’t be a Hero on my first day of school— de-during the Quirk Apprehension test, a-and I proved you wrong. You said last place would b-be expelled, but you called it a logical ruse. I was in last place and you s-still didn’t expel me.
“You almost died protecting us at the USJ, and, and you live in the dorms with us in Heights Alliance—y-you stopped Kacchan from attacking me on the first day, and, and every time since. Please, Aizawa-Sensei, p-please believe me... I don’t want to do this alone...”
Shota’s heart cracks as the kid speaks. None of that happened— well, some of it did, but not like how Deku is saying. It hasn’t— Shota would know, but the kid is all but begging, and he’s staring at Shota with such a kicked puppy look.
“Midoriya-kun,” Deku sniffles as he forces his watery eyes onto Nezu. Tsukauchi glances over too, and even Shota looks towards the rodent when he uses the teen’s name instead of his villain name. “You say you don’t belong here, but how did you get here?”
Deku quiets down, staring thoughtfully down at the table. His hands wring together, and he tugs at his fingers. Shota has half a mind to reach out and set his hand over Deku’s to stop it, but he keeps to himself.
Finally, the teen sucks in a breath, “I don’t really know. I... I was on patrol with Togata-Senpai for my internship and... and there was a villain attack, I think. I don’t... I don’t remember it very well. I think I got... I got hit, maybe? I just, I don’t know—b-but I woke up here, and I-I knew that I was c-close to where Sen-Sensei patrols and you were there too, so I-I—I thought if anyone could help me, it-it would be you Aizawa-Sensei and I just—” the child chokes on his own breath, forehead dropping down onto his cuffed hands, “I didn’t know what to do. I’m scared, Sensei, and I want to go home, and I-I-I—”
Shota can’t take it anymore.
He can’t sit back and watch this child fall apart all over again.
He can’t ignore a desperate plea.
He can’t watch the child fend his way through a second panic attack in as many minutes. The kid is going to pass out because he’s just not breathing.
He’s moving before he even realizes it; crouching gracefully at the child’s side. He puts a gentle hand on the teen’s knee, and leans a little bit closer to the child so his soft words are heard, “hey, calm down a bit. It’s alright, Midoriya-kun. It’s okay.”
The teen turns slightly towards him with an unrivaled urgency, and Shota’s shocked when the teen’s forehead rams against his chest, just under his chin, desperately. His automatic response is to wrap around the teen, hand cradling the back of the teen’s head as he sobs.
“’m sorry,” Deku cries out, pushing his face into Shota’s capture weapon, muffling the wail of mumbles, “I-I know you’re not—you're not my Sensei, but you are, and I’m— I’m not— I’m not who I am to-to you either. I didn’t d-do anything wrong, but I was arrested, and I’m cuffed to the table l-like a villain and I d-don't like it. I'm a Hero, I-I'm not your Deku. Everything’s different, but it’s the same—but it’s just, it’s not the same too. Not really. A-and I’m just so scared S-sensei. I don’t know what to do!”
“Shh,” Shota lets the hand not on the kid’s head settle between his shoulder blades, rubbing light circles, “take a breath, Midoriya-kun. We’ll figure it out. You’re okay, yeah? You need to take some deep breaths, just follow me, alright?”
Shota takes a couple of modelling deep breaths, and the kid, a literal child, tries to match them through his own gaspy inhales. The teen sniffles, and Shota just knows there’s tears, and spit and snot on his costume, but he can’t be bothered to care. He’s been covered in worse things anyways.
“Good,” he praises quietly, just loud enough for the shaking child to hear, “good job, Midoriya-kun. Deep breaths, just like that.”
It takes a good while for Midoriya’s breathing to even out enough that Shota’s not afraid he’ll pass out on them. Midoriya seems content to just settle against Shota as much as he can while still cuffed to the steel table, face buried in the man’s shoulder and capture weapon. He’s twisted at an odd angle, but he doesn’t seem to care all that much.
Shota catches Tsukauchi’s gaze over the table, the detective wearing a deep frown. The man’s eyes drift down to where only green curls can be seen before lifting back to Shota’s face, expression graver. There wasn’t a single lie in what the teen had said—spouting everything from being Deku to not being their Deku. It's true.
He’s still trying to wrap his brain around that one, honestly.
Nezu is just thoughtfully tapping a finger against the tabletop, scrutinizing gaze scanning Midoriya calmly. The rodent’s attention flickers to the ID card every so often before settling back on the teenager.
When Midoriya finally pulls back, Shota follows his lead; leaning away and sitting back on his haunches. The teen makes a feeble attempt at drying his own face on his shoulder again, before he’s ducking his head like he’s almost embarrassed.
The teen is silent for a second, before offering a sheepish, “I’m sorry.”
Shota frowns, narrowing his eyes at the cried out looking kid, “Problem Child, we both know there’s nothing to apologize for.”
And to Shota’s stupefied shock, the child’s eyes water once again— just this time, instead of tears falling, the teen lets out a sniffly snort of laughter, “sorry,” he adds again, lips flickering up into a tiny smile, “just, my Aizawa-Sensei calls me that too. Parallels or... or whatever, I guess.”
“Parallels,” Nezu hums thoughtfully, looking at Midoriya, “you have to understand that that concept, Midoriya-kun, is a little bit hard to believe.”
Midoriya gives a slow nod as Shota finally pushes himself up and flops back into his chair, worried eyes tracking over the teenager. The boy lets out a faint sigh, “I know Nezu-Sensei, I don’t... quite believe it either, but I kinda have to. Things are different—you all are, but not, um, not really different.”
“Do you think there’s any way to prove this Midoriya-kun?” Tsukauchi asks softly. “I know there is some very compelling evidences to support this theory—the ID card for one, but... like Nezu-San said, this is hard to believe.”
“Well,” Midoriya frowns, fingers wringing together once again, “I mean, I’m not completely sure how things have changed from my, uh, time—”
“Reality,” Nezu corrects not unkindly. “It still is, technically, your time. According to your student ID card at least. We have to assume that both of our worlds run the same time and date, just with minor... obscurities.”
“Uh, right, from m-my reality then. M-maybe you can ask questions about yourselves th-that Deku wouldn’t know—and I’ll answer if I know it about my, um, my Senseis and Detective...”
“Well,” Nezu hums thoughtfully, “that’s a thought, I suppose. Assuming that our realities aren’t different. I suppose the first question should be who your classmates are? You’re a 1-A student, I find it unlikely that the 1-A roster would’ve changed much from reality to reality.”
“Oh,” Midoriya blinks thoughtfully, “um, okay sure. Do I go seating order or just off the top of my head?”
“Seating order ideally,” Shota shrugged, interested in pushing just that little bit more. There’s no way Deku would be able to list the students in their arranged seating, even if he could name them all.
“Sure,” Midoriya nods, “well, starting at number one we have Aoyama, followed by Ashido, Asui, Iida and Uraraka. Then we have Ojiro, Kaminari, Kirishima, Koji and Satou. Students eleven through fifteen are Shoji, Jirou, Sero, Tokoyami and Todoroki, and then we have the last row which is Hagakure, Bakugou, me and then Yaoyorozu.”
“That’s only nineteen,” Shota tells him with a cocked eyebrow, “you said I never expelled anyone.”
“Oh, yeah, Mineta,” Midoriya winces, pulling at his own thumb, “you didn’t on the first day but... he, ah, he didn’t last long. When we all moved into Heights Alliance after Bakugou got kidnapped by the League of Villains, you caught him peeping in the girl’s communal showers. You, um, expelled him instantly and escorted him out in your capture weapon... I think the detective got involved as well, but you never really explained past the promise he wouldn’t bother anyone anymore, and that you were sorry you let it carry on for as long as you did, even though you didn’t know.”
Shota leans back in his seat, eyeing the teenager. That was scarily similar to his current roster.
“Did, um,” Midoriya looks up with hopeful green eyes, “was that close? To your class, I mean.”
“Fairly,” Shota squints at the teen. “All of the students you listed were in fact on my roster. However, Mineta was expelled within the first week, and you, for obvious reasons, were never on my roster. I have nineteen students currently though.”
It looks like Midoriya wants to ask who took his spot in 1-A, but wisely decides not to.
That doesn’t stop the kid from smiling widely though.
“Just like my Aizawa-Sensei!” the teen chirps, and for the first time since Deku had been cuffed, Shota sees the teenager from the rooftop who’d parkoured his way up to him. “That’s really cool, I mean, even in both realities, Mineta was expelled—he deserved it after some of the awful things he said. Gross. The girls always felt so uncomfortable around him.”
“Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi draws the teen’s attention back, “how do you know me?”
“Oh!” Midoriya smiles lightly, “well, I met you after the USJ attack. Some of my classmates and I helped All Might fight the Nomu, and I broke a few bones, so I was in the infirmary with All Might and Recovery Girl when you came in. You’re friends with All Might in this reality too, right?”
The three men stare, none even going as far as to breathe as the kid talks.
Midoriya knew All Might in his reality? Midoriya knew Tsukauchi knew All Might? Deku knew All Might?
“Then, of course, there was the mall incident when Shigaraki tried to kill me with his Quirk—that was after Iida, Todoroki and I fought the Hero Killer: Stain but that... oh wait. Ah, I don’t know if I should’ve said that. It’s classified—wait, does Stain exist in your reality?”
Tsukauchi gives a very slow nod.
“Good— I mean, not good, of course, but I’m glad that’s another similarity. Anyways, um, I don’t think I really actually met Detective Tsukauchi until after Shigaraki tried to kill me at the mall, well, I guess technically he just threatened to kill me, but I did think I was gonna die. Then, uh, then you brought me to the police station for questioning, and we talked a bit.”
It’s just then that Midoriya seems to realize no one's said a thing. That the two Pros, and the Detective are silently staring at him—studying him. Fear floods the kid’s face as he audibly swallows, “did... did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Shota clears his throat, heart thrumming in his chest. Midoriya swears he’s his student, but what the fuck kind of teacher is his Aizawa if all that shit happened to one of his students? Their timelines are the same, it’s only been a couple months of school. “Of course not, just... there’s a lot to unpack there.”
The teen lets out a tiny exhale that sounds suspiciously like an ‘oh’.
“Midoriya-kun,” Nezu’s voice is oddly clipped, “you know All Might?”
“Yeah!” the teen grins, nodding enthusiastically, “he’s a parttime teacher at my Yuuei—when he’s not busy with his Hero work, at least. He teaches Foundational Hero Studies, and he’s sorta like my mentor, I guess. I met him way before school started and he... he helped me get ready for Yuuei and— w-why are you all looking at me like that...?”
“Your reality's All Might isn’t retired, Midoriya-kun?” Tsukauchi asks slowly, which prompts an equally as slow shake of the head from the teenager.
“He’s... well, no—I mean, yes, he is, um, he is now. But he wasn’t until a very recent fight, a-after Bakugou got kidnapped. Is... is your All Might retired?”
“He is,” Nezu answers carefully.
“What... happened to him?” Midoriya looks between the three of them cautiously.
“You did.” Shota answer softly, not beating around the bush.
Shota’s not sure he’s ever seen heartbreak spread across someone face as quickly as it does Midoriya. The teen sucks in a few breaths that sound deep, but rattled with panic as he finally manages a shaky exhale of: “w-what...?”
Shota blows out a sigh, leaning forwards.
“Deku happened,” he corrects, “Deku somehow found out that All Might was gravely injured in a fight a while back; a fight he never fully recovered from. Deku realized that All Might wasn’t what he used to be and that his power wasn’t that of when he was younger due to his chronic injuries. Deku he... told some villains—the League of Villains specifically. We think that was his in to the group, but we didn’t know until recently that Deku was the one to spill All Might’s secret.”
“He’s a full teacher,” Nezu continues easily, “after the public found out that he had these limitations from that fight, the they didn’t believe he could protect them as he once has. It was a forced retirement, more or less, but he still helps out a lot with activities for our Heroics students. He just doesn’t do very much public Hero work. Truthfully, it gave Yagi-San more time to focus on... other things.”
“His successor,” Midoriya whispers in understanding.
Shota doesn’t know what that means, but Tsukauchi and Nezu both snap their attention to the boy.
“You know about that?” Tsukauchi asks seriously, and all Midoriya does is give the faintest of nods as he bites his bottom lip.
Nezu and Tsukauchi share a glance. Shota feels his irritation tick upwards at being the only one out of the loop—how this child from an alternate reality knew more than he did was beyond him.
Nezu’s eyes drift down to where Midoriya is still wringing his hands together, tugging nervously at his own fingers. The rodent’s eyes lift, and there’s an almost knowing in those black eyes.
“So those Quirk suppression cuffs are—” another quick nod from Midoriya that has the principal cutting himself off with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I see.”
Nezu nods to himself, before baring his teeth in a challenging smile at Shota, “well, Tsukauchi and I need to have a word about all of this— Aizawa-kun, are you alright watching Midoriya-kun?”
“Yeah,” the man huffs.
“Wonderful!” Nezu grins, standing himself and ushering Tsukauchi up as well. They both walk towards the door, “we’ll only be a moment—”
“Ah, w-wait,” Midoriya calls as the two make their way to the door.
Both pause in the doorway, looking back at the child, even if Midoriya is staring down at his own lap, “I, um, I know this is a lot to ask, b-but could I maybe ha-have the cuffs off? I won’t do anything and... and Sensei can erase my Quirk if I do try anything—w-which I won’t! They just, well, I have some chr-chronic pain and it really,” the teen swallows, chewing on his bottom lip, “it hurts.”
Shota glances towards his colleagues, waiting to see who takes the bait. He doesn’t doubt Midoriya does have chronic pain if the scars decorating his hands and arms are any indication, but he really doesn’t expect Nezu to be the one to cave, “ah, of course! Apologies, Midoriya-kun.”
Tsukauchi hesitates for just a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket where he pulls out two keys, tossing them both at Shota. The underground Hero catches them using nothing more than instinct as they barrel at his face, shooting a halfhearted glare at the detective, who’s smiling smugly.
“Just like that?” Shota blinks when the answer catches up to him. He stares down at the keys in his hand, unsure. He’d expected more. More questions from Nezu—more hesitance from Tsukauchi. As bad as it sounds, Shota hadn’t expected instant agreement.
Was Shota missing something here?
“Just like that,” Nezu chortles. “Not to worry, Aizawa-kun. I really do doubt the boy will try anything, and if he does, you have full permission to handle him as you please. I’m sure he knows what you’re capable of. Now, if you will see to helping Midoriya-kun out of those suppresser cuffs, Aizawa-kun, the detective and I’ll return shortly!”
The door shuts after the detective and the principal, and Shota can’t help but glare at it. He hates being out of the loop, and it’s his biggest pet peeve when Nezu pulls shit like this. That cryptic, chaotic rat.
“Y-you can leave them on if you want, Sensei,” the teen’s whisper draws him from his irritation, and Shota’s heart drops into his stomach when the words register. Had the kid thought he was upset at the thought of freeing him, instead of the actual irritation he feels for his boss?
“No,” he drawls softly, already leaning over to try and find the keyhole he needs, “I’m sorry, Kid. I was just a bit lost in thought. It’s fine, really. We’ll take them off if they’re hurting you. I trust I won’t need to use my Quirk or my capture weapon on you, eh? Sorry you’ve had to wear them this long, if they’ve been hurting you.”
“I understand why. Better safe than sorry, right?” Midoriya watches as Shota leans forwards to slip the first key into the hidden keyhole. It’ll deactivate the cuffs, and then Shota will be able to use the second key to unlock them and release him. “I am a villain here.”
“Deku’s a villain here,” Shota corrects as he finally unlocks the cuffs. Midoriya is quick to draw his hands to his chest where he rubs at his wrists with a wince. “You’re not, Midoriya-kun. You just happen to share a name and a face with him. Now, here, let me see your wrists.”
It surprises Shota when the kid doesn’t hesitate at all, just offers up his wrists for Shota to inspect. They’re raw and inflamed, and Shota almost winces at the sight. He can imagine the pain the kid must be in, especially after hours of the handcuffs holding his wrists in place and rubbing the skin raw.
The underground Hero takes both of the boy’s hands into his own hands and carefully massages his thumbs into the old scars. Midoriya tenses briefly before relaxing under the careful touch. Shota feels almost sick when he notices the awe sparkling in Midoriya’s green eyes.
“How’d you get hurt so bad, anyways?” Shota can’t help but ask. These are some serious wounds, even healed. It’s cause for concern, really. Shota can even make out that a healing Quirk was used and they still look like this.
“Destructive Quirk,” Midoriya offer with a weary smile. “I break my bones a lot when I use it— needed surgery after the Sports Festival and everything. I have more control now, but it was bad for a while.”
“And I haven’t helped with this? I mean, the me from your reality.”
“You do help,” Midoriya shakes his head, eyes watching Shota’s thumbs press into his muscles. “You try your best, but there are nineteen of us, and we’re...” the teen bites his lip, smiling sheepishly, “a bit of a handful?”
“Handful or not, I clearly don’t try hard enough,” Shota fires back, gesturing to the boy’s wrists with a jerk of his chin, “that, or your reality’s me sucks at his job. There’s gotta be an alternative somewhere to you breaking your bones when you try to use your Quirk. And, speaking of, I’ve gotta ask— strictly for my own curiosity— if your Quirk was still this destructive by the time you hit high school, did you not have any Quirk counselling, or Quirk training to try and get this under control growing up?”
The boy looks away guiltily, and Shota almost stops massaging. He lets the silence carry on for a second before taking a slightly sterner tone he hopes that Midoriya's Aizawa uses too. That no-nonsense tone that demands an answer, “Midoriya-kun.”
“No,” the child shakes his head, “I’m a... late bloomer.”
Shota lets that sink in, trying not to let anything show on his face.
“How late?” Shota narrows his eyes, thumbs pausing as he waits for an answer.
For a second, Shota’s worried about the Deku of their reality suddenly manifesting a highly destructive Quirk that would only add to how dangerous he is. But, if this Midoriya already had a Quirk, then theirs would too, right? If he had a Quirk, at least. There hasn’t even been a whisper of Deku having any sort of Quirk, and his records were still the same: diagnosed Quirkless.
The x-rays on his file of his pinky-toe joint don’t lie—it would be a literal miracle for Deku to develop a Quirk. Shota doesn’t know how one can have a Quirk while the other is Quirkless, but he also doesn’t know how there can be two Midoriyas in the same reality. Best not look to closely, lest he give himself a migraine in an attempt to understand.
He should just be happy their Deku is Quirkless still—Shota can’t imagine someone like him having a Quirk too. That would probably mean the end of mankind entirely or something.
The teenager’s face contorts to a grimace that draws Shota away from his thoughts, “I, um, t-the day of the Entrance Exam...? It was a bit of an ah... a forced manifestation, I suppose?”
Shota can already see it—this bright young face with a literal new Quirk stepping into that arena. Assuming his Entrance Exam wasn’t much different than theirs, Shota sucks in a breath as he paints a picture in his mind, “don’t tell me you went for the—”
“Zero-pointer?” Midoriya gives a pained laugh that’s accompanied by an almost cheeky smile, “I won’t tell you then, Sensei.”
“Have I ever told you you’re a brat?” Shota huffs out, unable to stop the small smile threatening to grace his face. It’s wiped away as fast as it appears when a thought hits him. He stills completely, lifting his eyes to watch the teenager. “Midoriya-kun. I don’t... I don’t know, do I?”
The teen looks away again, and Shota forces his thumbs back to work when the boy gives a halfhearted attempt to tug his hands back. Shota looks down at the damaged wrists in his hold, thumbing over some of the worst scars. He already has a sick feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t know this very important detail about Midoriya in the teenager’s reality—that this happened because he didn’t know and never really helped.
He stares until a soft voice breaks the silence, “no, Sensei, you don’t.”
Shota gives a careful nod, taking care to not let any emotions flicker in his expression, “I see.”
They settle into silence once again, Shota rubbing carefully over the teenager’s wrists, as Midoriya watches intently. The teen studies Shota’s rotations as his features slowly soften, the pain ebbing away as he continues. Finally, when Shota’s sure he’d given most of the scarred tissue and swollen joints enough attention, he pulls his hands away.
Midoriya pulls his hands back when Shota’s grip loosens, and he stares in awe at his hands, “they don’t hurt as much anymore.” The boy smiles brightly, jabbing his own thumb against the swollen joint in a way that makes Shota wince. “Thank you, Sensei.”
Shota waves a dismissive hand tiredly, “let me know if they act up again. Chronic pain is a bitch, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer with it."
Midoriya giggles, and it’s then that Shota realizes he probably shouldn’t be cussing. Midoriya isn’t his student—or, he is, but he’s not... he’s not Shota’s directly. He decides that it’s a problem for Midoriya’s Aizawa to deal with, assuming they’re relatively the same, at least. Besides, the kid’s a teenager—he's probably heard much worse.
“It’s a little strange talking to you in this context,” Midoriya offers softly.
Shota lets his head lull in the direction of the teenager, noting how Midoriya has curled up in his chair, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. He looks tired.
It’s probably got to be nearing late morning now, and Shota just hopes Nezu gave Hizashi a heads up to make sure the students were up and in class. He hopes someone covers his class, but he has a suspicion that Nezu has something in the works.
1-A shouldn't be left without supervision, and that’s something the entire staff knows.
“Oh yeah?” Shota hums lightly.
The kid gives a nod, before turning his head so his cheek is balanced on his knee. “I feel like I know more about you then you know about me s-since I’m different here, but you... you’re mostly the same. You really are like my Aizawa, just... without me, I guess.”
Shota doesn’t know why hearing that makes his heart ache.
Why seeing the teenager wilt, with that tiny defeated frown curving his lips as he stares almost unseeingly at the wall has his heart going out to the poor kid. He can’t even begin to understand what’s probably going through the kid’s head, but it makes something unpleasant coil in his stomach.
He desperately wants to fix this for the boy, but there’s literally no way. They don’t know anything in the grand scheme of things, and if Midoriya was hit with a Quirk in his reality that sent him here, they have no means to even figure out how to counter it, or get information on the Quirk.
Hopefully they’re working on it on their end.
The silence is depressingly loud, and though Shota knows there’s not much he can do to help Midoriya, he can help distract him, “what’s your Aizawa like?”
“He’s the best,” Midoriya doesn’t even take a second to think, and Shota curses the fondness flooding his chest, “he’s really scary sometimes, but I think it’s just for show. He’s actually a really good teacher; he’s always there when we need him, and he helps us with our Quirks and keeps us all in line—didn't let Kacchan get me on the first day of school, even when he didn’t think I belonged in his class. I think that’s when I knew he was a good guy. He’s weird too, but in a good way— ah, I hope that doesn’t come off as rude—”
“You’re fine,” Shota snorts in amusement, “I’ve been called worse.”
Midoriya lets out a little laugh, finally looking back towards the Pro, “he pretends not to like us, I think, but we all know he cares. He’s still scary, but we all trust him. He was willing to die for us at the USJ, and-and he really did almost die. He got hurt really badly.”
There’s a distant look in the teen’s eyes, but Shota doesn’t draw attention to it. From the sound of it, their USJ incident was a lot like Shota’s own. He does wonder how Midoriya’s interference on either side curved the situation, but he thinks it’s probably better to not bring it up.
“I think...” the boy continues after a second, looking at Shota before ducking his head, “he’s the first teacher I ever really trusted, which is why I... well, why I came looking for you. I knew you’d help me. He always helps.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t help you,” Shota offers, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
“You did,” the boy laughs, gesturing to the station interrogation room. Shota fails to see how this has been helpful to Midoriya, but he doesn’t dare refute it. “And I would’ve done the same thing if I was in your position, Sensei. It was logical, wasn’t it? Your Midoriya Izuku is a villain, so you followed your instincts and arrested me. I don’t blame you for that—I was scared, yeah, but it was... a misunderstanding.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Shota huffs, “you are innocent and you still spent hours in cuffs. You tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. We didn’t listen. There’s nothing logical about interrogating a minor until he has two panic attacks that could’ve been avoided when all he’s doing is asking for help.”
“I cry a lot anyways,” Midoriya offers simply, like that makes up for their brash approach that had thrown his mental stability out the window. The teen shoots Shota a watery smile as he continues, “besides, Sensei, we both know villains lie. You couldn’t be sure in the moment. I'm glad you didn’t trust me at first, if I really was your Deku, you could’ve gotten hurt. You always tell us to follow our instincts, don’t you? It can’t be right for us to do that but wrong for you to.”
“You know,” Shota drawls, choosing to ignore the teen’s defense of their action, “it’s weird for you to turn my own words around on me when I’ve never actually taught you. Can’t say I like it— you’re definitely a Problem Child, aren’t you?”
Midoriya lets out a loud, surprised burst of laughter. He ducks his head bashfully, “my Aizawa-Sensei calls me his Number 1 Problem Child. I’m still not sure if it’s endearment or genuine disbelief.”
“That,” Shota grins sharply, finding the humor in the teen’s words, “sounds about right.”
Midoriya let out another bout of giggles. Shota tries really hard not to let his manic grin soften to a regular smile, but he knows he fails.
Midoriya lets out a small huff when his laughter subsides, and he glances away thoughtfully, “I sorta miss my Aizawa, but it feels silly to because you’re right here. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not really my Sensei. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“There’s nothing wrong with missing your teacher,” Shota tells him seriously, “this is frankly a pretty fucked up situation, and I’m so sorry you’re stuck here away from your reality. I’m glad I can be a stand-in for you— I want you to know you're not alone, Midoriya. I’ll make damn sure of that while you’re here. You may not be my student, but you are my student.”
Shota blinks as he tries to process that sentence. It had made more sense in his head, and he’s not even sure the emphasis he tried to force into it had saved it. He feels his face twisting like he’d eaten a slice of lemon the longer he thinks about it.
Midoriya chokes on a laugh, “that makes zero sense at all, but I understand it completely.”
Shota rolls his eyes, letting out an amused exhale of ‘brat’ under his breath.
Midoriya snickers to himself before he quiets down. He’s silent for a second until, “thank you, though.”
When Shota looks back towards him, the teen is hiding a smile between his knees. His expression is soft and childish, and just so grateful. He looks so young, and Shota is once again reminded that these students are just children.
“So,” Shota leans back in his chair, eyes lighting up with playful mirth, “I’m going to assume the teachers are all mostly the same in both realties. Who’s your favorite?”
“I-I can’t answer that!” Midoriya squeaks, covering his face with his hands. “That feels like it could be offensive—they're your co-workers, u-uh, probably... I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“It’s not,” Shota hides his smile in his capture weapon, “it’s not like I’ll ever be able to rat you out to your teachers. Besides, it’s not offensive because technically, we’ve never taught you either. Can’t be upset by the ranking of a student they’re never met let alone taught. Being offended would be illogical.”
“Well... it feels weird to say you to you,” Midoriya whines, a blush crawling up his cheeks and all the way to his ears. “Just because of that, I’ll say Present Mic! He teaches English here too, right? He's definitely one of my favorites! I love his class!”
“Mic, huh?” Shota snorts, “that’ll definitely go straight to his head. No need to inflate his ego anymore.”
“That’s mean, Sensei,” Midoriya huffs a laugh. “Present Mic is really cool though! He’s always been one of my favorites! I love his radio show if—er, if he has that here. I used to listen to it when I was little! Plus, his Quirk is really cool. He mentioned that he had his Quirk when he was born, and I can only imagine that was pretty hard to control as a baby. It really is amazing what he can do with it.
“Then there’s all the pitches and frequencies he can do with just his voice—how he can throw his voice around to emulate something or someone and make it sounds like it’s coming from a different distance and direction. So useful! And, I especially think it’s cool how he can do it without hearing! Not to mention his cool support gear—”
Shota blinks, suddenly uncomfortable at the in-depth analysis.
Maybe Deku and Midoriya were more similar than he thought.
He reels in the thought, and tries to swallow down his nerves.
Although Shota knows, realistically, this is nothing more than a starstruck fanboy analysis, he can’t help the stone settling in his stomach. This isn’t some random analysis by some random person. This is an analysis of Hizashi by someone who looks and sounds like Deku.
It’s hitting a little too close to home, and no matter how much Shota tries to swallow down the fear, he can’t. He knows it’s Midoriya he’s talking to, a Heroic student, but this is exactly how Deku takes Heroes out. And he’s been talking about Hizashi.
Shota draws in a calming breath.
He knows this is Midoriya. It’s not Deku. But it’s still scary. It’s still unsettling. Analysis like this can be so dangerous, and it's terrifying that Midoriya seems to possess the skill too, even if he’s not using it to harm.
“Are you sure you’re not Deku?” Shota asks drily when he finally calms his raging heartbeat. It’s meant to be a joke to ease his own worries, but it’s no surprise when it backfires spectacularly.
“No!” Midoriya jolts in fear, and Shota instantly feels bad. “I’m not! I promise, I-I'm sorry, I—I didn’t—”
“I’m kidding,” Shota frowns, leaning back in his chair as he makes a mental note to not do that again, “sorry, that was insensitive. I know you’re not, Kid; I was just... surprised. No one knows that Mic’s nearly entirely deaf. Not even most of the teachers.”
“Oh,” Midoriya breathes, wide eyes watching Shota cautiously, “it’s not, um, I don’t know. I doubt my classmates have realized, I just sorta pieced it together, I guess. I mean, he’s always wearing his headphones, so I assume there’s some sort of hearing support in there, and... and I’ve seen you and Yamada-Sensei using JSL—you're both fluent in it, right?”
“We are,” Shota cocks an eyebrow.
“It just makes sense,” Midoriya continues after one last suspicious look at Shota, “you are married, after all. You’d need to be able to communicate at least a bit with each other if his wasn’t wearing his support gear or... well, I assume he must wear hearing aids at home and out of costumes, right? Well, no matter, my point still stands—”
And, what?
What the fuck?
“What do you mean?” Shota’s mouth has gone dry. How does... how does Midoriya know that? Their marriage is the closest kept secret.
Information like that is dangerous, and to know that Deku—no, Midoriya, because they clearly are not the same person even if they look, think, sound the same (but still, it sends sparks of panic through his entire being that Deku knows he’s married to Hizashi, dear Lord).
He knows it’s unfair to lump the villain and the teenager before him into the same category, but it’s so hard not to. They are literally the same person just... somewhere along the line Deku turned to villainy, while Midoriya turned to Heroics.
Shota somehow manages to reign in his frantic heartrate, blinking slowly at the teenager.
He’s still shocked—this is something that only their parents and families, their close friends and the Yuuei staff know. That’s it. They keep this secret guarded. They don’t wear wedding bands, and all their intimacy is strictly behind closed doors. They’re careful, and don’t take unnecessary risks.
Shota doesn’t know the Aizawa from Midoriya’s reality, but if they really are the almost the exact same person, he knows his marriage would also be closely guarded. They may not have a Deku in their world, but other villains are just as dangerous when it comes to personal and sensitive information.
So to reiterate, what the fuck?
“What?” Midoriya squeaks, rearing away from Shota frantically. “Oh,” he breaths, “oh no, a-are you and Mic-Sensei n-not together here? Th-that's probably so awkward for you! I’m so sorry! Oh God, I need think before I speak— I'm sorr—”
“Stop,” Shota groans, letting his head fall back so he can glare up at the ceiling. Midoriya’s jaw snaps shut, teeth audibly clinking together as he does so. “Stop for a second. You’re fine, Midoriya— and for the love of all things holy, please stop apologizing for everything. You’re not on trial anymore, we believe you’re not from here.”
“Oh,” the child breathes out, and when Shota glances back towards him, he can see fear sparkling in his gaze, “I’m sorr— u-um, I mean, alright...”
“Now, I never said you were wrong,” Shota huffs, though his skin prickles anxiously. “But I also never said you were right. How did you come to that conclusion? Unless... unless someone said something to you?”
“No,” Midoriya shakes his head, swallowing roughly. “Um no one told us... we just sorta assumed? Some of us, at least. Not a lot of people know—um, most of my classmates don’t, I don't think. We figured it out ourselves.”
“Explain,” Shota huffs.
“Well,” Midoriya puckers his lips thoughtfully, “it wasn’t too hard to figure out—I mean, you wear a chain around your neck with your wedding band, o-or, I assume you do too, because my Aizawa-Sensei does. I saw it on the first day when he used his Quirk on me. And, he doesn’t interact with Present Mic often. It, um, it sorta looks like he doesn’t really like Mic-Sensei all that much, when they do talk, but it... um, it’s softer, I guess? It’s just different from when Aizawa-Sensei is annoyed with, like, Midnight-Sensei for example.”
“And, um,” Midoriya's cheeks flush brightly, “Mic-Sensei does spend a lot of time in your apartment above our dorms... I think you two live together more or less, and that Mic-Sensei's dorm in the teacher’s dormitories is more of a... formality? For appearance?”
“And you just figured this all out?” Shota’s honestly a little impressed. But then again, this kid is the same person as the Deku who’d watched Shota’s fighting style for no more than ten minutes and was able to pinpoint how his Quirk worked and his activation tells.
“Yes, uh, well, me and a classmate did,” Midoriya shrugs nervously.
“None of my students know,” Shota tells him, pressing his mouth into a line.
And Midoriya, the little shit, gives a cheeky smile, “you should ask Todoroki-kun what he thinks if you really believe that. I have a feeling that if he’s anything like mine, he probably has at least a suspicion that you and Mic-Sensei are together.”
Shota lets out a quiet hum, studying the teenager across from him.
Midoriya fiddles with his own fingers, nervously but nowhere near as rough as he’d been in the past couple hours, “so... is it, um, the same here?”
In answer, Shota tugs his capture weapon down enough to locate the stainless-steel chain around his neck, pulling it out so the golden ring on the end of it is exposed. Hizashi has an identical one, just he’d opted for a gold chain. Midoriya leans forwards to get a closer look, “that’s so pretty, Sensei.”
Shota lets out a snort of laughter as he tucks the chain and ring back into his costume. “I trust I don’t need to tell you it’s a secret?”
“I won’t tell!” Midoriya promises brightly, “t-thank you for trusting me with some-um, something like this. Considering... everything. I really appreciate it.”
“You figured it out yourself,” Shota shrugs easily, “it would be illogical to deny it when you’re right. I’m just glad you’ll keep it to yourself. Information like that getting out is dangerous—the more the villains know, the more ammunition they have.”
He doesn’t tell Midoriya that that’s exactly how Deku’s made a name for himself—he has a feeling the kid will just take the guilt of his alternate self’s actions. He’s already got enough on his plate at this point, no need to pile more on there.
“I understand,” Midoriya gives a serious nod. “I’m sorry I scared you with the analysis and the, uh, the mumbling. I just... analysis has been my hobby since I was a kid. I didn’t think I’d get a Quirk for a long time, but I just thought they were so cool. Sometimes I just can’t turn it off... It-it's creepy, I know—”
“It’s an occupation,” Shota cuts him off with a sigh. He makes a mental note to bring this up later and dig deeper, but for now, he lets it go. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not creepy, kid. They’re good skills to have, observational and analysis skills— useful for Heroics— but you can’t just analyze someone aloud. You don’t know who could be listening.”
Midoriya looks thoughtfully surprised, “you... don’t think it’s creepy?”
Who the hell hurt this kid— Shota would just like to have a word.
It’s bullshit like that that what makes people break. That forces people into positions that don’t end well for anyone. There’s not a doubt in Shota’s mind that Deku had probably heard the same bullshit and snapped. Most aren't born villains— they turn to it.
“No,” Shota frowns, trying not to be annoyed that that’s what the kid chose to take from what he said. He really will have to revisit this, won’t he? This is obviously what Midoriya needs to hear right now though, so he shoves down the annoyance and continues, “there’s nothing wrong with analyzing, or observing, just, you have to do it safely. Be mindful.”
The boy stares, but doesn’t say anything. Shota thinks he might’ve broken the kid.
Shota blinks as the kid stares ahead of himself, lips moving like he’s speaking, but no words come out. He decides to let the kid go off—if it’ll keep him distracted then power to him. If anyone needs a second to decompress, it's Midoriya.
Shota lets his eyes fall shut as he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t stir until the door opens again and Tsukauchi and Nezu walk back in. Midoriya jerks to attention, swirling to look back at them like he'd forgotten they were here too.
“Everyone’s alive, good!” the rodent smiles as he settles back into his chair, Tsukauchi retaking his own as well. “Tsukauchi and I spoke, and we’ve come to some decisions.”
“Of course you have,” Shota tried not to rolls his eyes, slumping back. “Let’s hear it then.”
“Though we don’t know what this Quirk Midoriya-kun was hit with truly is, nor who the Quirk’s belongs to, we are running what we know through the Japan Quirk registry database in hopes of getting some answers. For now, all we can do is wait, unfortunately,” Shota gives his boss props for how he manages to sound sympathetic.
Midoriya nods solemnly, like he’d assumed as much. “Sorry I don’t remember more.”
Shota opens his mouth to put an end to that, but Tsukauchi beats him to it, “you’ve given us enough to run a fairly specific search, don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? None of this is your fault.”
The kid bows his head in a tiny nod, but doesn’t look convinced.
Nezu gives an agreeing hum before continuing, “since we have no means to get Midoriya-kun home, we’ve decided that the safest place for him to stay, for the time being, is at Yuuei. It’s best you’re somewhere where we can monitor the Quirk you’re under and keep an eye on you if there are any affects we’re unaware of. It also doesn’t hurt to have an Erasure Quirk on hand. Aizawa-kun, you don’t mind, no?”
“No,” Shota shrugs instantly, “it makes sense that he’d stick with me. I am his homeroom teacher in his reality. Plus, we have the space in both the 1-A dorms, as well as my apartment upstairs; whichever you’re more comfortable with. And, I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable being in a familiar setting, eh, Midoriya?”
“I-if it’s not too much trouble?” the teen mumbles, but Shota sees the relief in his eyes. “I... I trust Aizawa-Sensei.”
“I’m glad,” Shota can’t quite contain the fondness swelling in his chest from the soft admission. “I’d feel better having the kid close anyways. My students are afraid of Deku— though he hasn’t attacked directly, he’s been a part of attacks. They know what he does, and they’re rightfully scared. They’ll be wary at best, and hostile at worst. I don’t want any harm to come to Midoriya because they get scared.”
“I second that,” Nezu nods seriously. “I trust you to keep him safe, Aizawa-kun. He is a Yuuei guest, after all. 1-A is a bright group, but they have... personality. Please keep them in line.”
Midoriya snorts at that, before seeming to catch himself. He looks up at them quickly, eyes apologetic, but expression very much not, “s-sorry.”
Shota almost forgot Midoriya knows most of his students—they're his classmates in his own reality. He’s not sure if that’ll make this harder or easier.
“There really isn’t much we can do,” Tsukauchi offers the kid sympathetically. “Quirks like this generally aren’t permanent—but the duration is unknown. I’ve personally never heard of a Quirk like this, but I can only hope the Heroes in your reality are working to bring you back. I’m sorry there’s not much more we can do.”
“You’ve done lots,” Midoriya tells him with a thankful smile. To Shota’s mortification, the kid stands and arches into a formal bow, “I’m very grateful. Thank you all.”
“You’re very welcome,” Nezu grins. “Now, if that’s everything, it’s been a long night and I’m sure both Aizawa-kun and Midoriya-kun could do with some rest.”
“Of course,” Tsukauchi bows his head, “I’ll keep you up to date with what I find.”
“Likewise,” Nezu chirps, hopping down from his chair and heading towards the door without waiting for Midoriya or Shota to follow.
Shota’s not at all surprised to find a automated computer operated car waiting, but Midoriya is. The kid frowns thoughtfully as Nezu hops into the passenger's seat, before following Shota and climbing into the backseat.
The first little bit of the drive is quiet, and it’s also not surprising that Nezu’s the one to break the peacefulness.
“Just so we’re clear, for the time being, I think it’s best that we keep Yagi away from Midoriya-kun. Deku did a great deal of damage to All Might’s career, and as such, he harbors negative feelings. I would hope he wouldn’t be unjust towards you for Deku’s actions, but I can’t be certain of it. I understand you’re close with your reality’s All Might, but that simply won’t be the case here. Apologies.”
Midoriya looks saddened by this, but nods anyways. “I understand.”
Nezu’s smile softens in a way Shota doesn’t remember ever seeing, “I understand this is difficult, all things considered, and do trust that I’ve considered it all, but I wouldn’t place the restriction if I wasn’t positive it was necessary for your safety.”
Midoriya gives another nod, not saying anything.
Satisfied with that, Nezu then turns to look back at Shota, “Aizawa-kun, I’m not sure what you have planned regarding your roommate, but let me know if there are any accommodations to be made—”
“Kid already knows about Hizashi,” Shota waves dismissively, trying not to relish in the fact Nezu looks surprised. Talk about firsts. “Figured it out himself. Apparently, Mic and I aren’t as sneaky as we think we are in his reality. I can only hope the two of us are, but Midoriya has me doubting it.”
“Oh?” and now Nezu’s snickering.
Shota pretends he’s not offended by the fact a fifteen-year-old figured him out, even if he really is.
As it turns out, Midoriya’s student ID card does work—it just isn’t a programmed card for their specific security system, which causes the gate system overload and to show an error message. Nezu is completely fascinated as he overrides the system so Shota and Midoriya can enter, and even requests that Midoriya let him borrow the alternate reality ID card with the promise to return it promptly.
Midoriya’s brow furrows as he grants permission for Nezu to play study it.
Shota is just done by this point—setting a hand on the teen’s shoulder and directing him towards the 1-A dorms.
“Until you’re introduced to my 1-A and I can be certain none of them try to kill you, you’re unfortunately stuck in the apartment. Though, you’re more than welcome to take the guest room even when you’re comfortable with the students. I don’t mind where you choose.”
“Okay,” Midoriya yawns.
“Great,” Shota nods as he unlocks the building doors and ushers the kid to the elevator. “I’m tired too, so we’ll rest up for now. I’ll introduce you to the kids after school this evening, if you’re alright with that, or we can wait a little. Whatever you’re feeling up to.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching now?”
“Mic’s covering for me,” Shota waves it off, rubbing at his eyes as they step out of the elevator. “You can borrow some of my clothes for now to sleep in, and later I’ll find you some clothes in your size. Probably Yuuei uniforms, which I’m sure you’re familiar with.”
“Y-you don’t have to—”
“You wanna wear the bunny suit to bed?”
“B-bunny—this is my Hero costume!”
Shota pauses, glancing down at the kid’s attire. He can kinda see it. Sorta. He won’t pretend to understand the boy’s costume, it probably looks better when it’s not torn and dirty. Hopefully. “What’s with the bunny ears?”
“They’re not—” the kid groans, “I’d appreciate clothes to sleep in, Sensei. Thank you.”
Shota shrugs, leading the kid into the apartment and down the hall to the bedrooms. He pushes open the guest room door and gestures the kid in, “I’ll be right back.”
He finds an old pair of sweat pants that probably never fit him, as well as steals a new promotional shirt from a box that Hizashi ordered to advertise his radio show. He knows the blonde won’t mind, and since Midoriya’s a fan, he figures it’s two birds with one stone.
The kid is perched on the bed when Shota pauses in the doorway. "My bedroom is down the hall, last door. Come find me if you need me. Help yourself in the kitchen, Mic will be back at the end of the school day. Please stay in the dorms, preferably the apartment. Bathroom's across the hall..."
Shota pauses, trying to think of anything else he needs to explain. He comes up short, running a hand through his hair as he tosses the clothes, which Midoriya is ill prepared to catch, directly at the unsupecting teen. He eyes the kid before humming out a simple demand of: “Sleep.” and promptly shutting the door on the kid.
God he’s tired.