Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t see Deku for the rest of the day.

When evening finally falls, Shota returns back from the police station, sans his green-haired doppelganger. Izuku feels himself wilt from his place at the coffee table where he and Present Mic were watching an old superhero movie in English.

He turns to stare at the dark-haired man, mouth an unsteady line.

“Don’t give me that look,” the underground Hero sighs out as he digs the ball of his palm into the back of his neck as if to relieve a strain in his muscles, “you know we can’t magically make things happen, Midoriya. He’s still a wanted person. He’s still under arrest, and he’ll still need to be processed all the same. He may not have done everything we think he has, but he has done some of it.”

“What’s going to happen to him though?” Izuku can’t help but ask, gnawing on his bottom lip worriedly. “He’s not going to Tartarus, is he? He doesn’t deserve that— you know he’s not like Shigaraki or All for One, Sensei.”

“He’s not,” Sensei agrees clipped, “and for now, he won’t be. For now. But my point still stands. He’s a wanted criminal, Midoriya, there’s absolutely no way I could’ve walked out with him tonight. Deku will be spending the night in a holding cell at the precinct, and that will, unfortunately, be the case until something is sorted out for him. He won’t be alone though, the detective personally volunteered to watch over him to make sure nothing happens to him while he’s there."

“That’s... good,” Izuku allows softly.

He isn’t entirely sure what he thinks about the Detective Tsukauchi in this reality, but he does trust the man’s character just from knowing his own Detective Tsukauchi. Maybe his environment had changed him— Yagi-san and the things Deku has admitted to— but Izuku knows that the man wouldn’t wrongly arrest and punish someone or let anything bad happen to him while he’s under his protection, even at the station.

Deku had been honest. He’d answered honestly, and they now have proof, in the form of a Lie Detector Quirk, that he wasn’t exactly what the world thought him to be. Nowhere close, even.

Izuku knows Tsukauchi is a good man, and a good detective.

“So, what’s the plan for the little listener anyways?” Present Mic angles his head to glance up backwards at Sensei, Izuku looking back once again as well, just as curious.

“Everything is up in the air at this point,” the man shakes his head tiredly, rounding the couch and plopping down beside the blonde-haired man. Izuku scooches back so he’s facing the narrow gap between the coffee table and the couch, able to look directly at the two men as he draws his knees up to his chest.

Sensei’s eyes slip closed for a second, blowing out a tired sigh before his eyes are slivering open once again, “for now, he’s safe. Tsukauchi is with him now, and Nezu was just leaving for a meeting when I left the station. He’s on Deku’s side, which is honestly more than we could hope for when it comes to the outcome of all this. There’s no one better to have on Deku’s side. As we speak, I’m sure the rat is rubbing elbows with representatives from the police station, Japanese Hero school board and the HPSC trying to sort this out.”

“That was fast,” Present Mic hums quietly.

Sensei bows his head in a slow nod, eyes shutting again, “this really isn’t something that can wait. They’ll want to deal with Deku as soon as possible, whether that be sending him to prison or... or arranging something else for him. I don’t know. No one can say for sure— this isn’t a decision anyone can make alone. This is something even Nezu will have the least say in.”

“I hope he doesn’t end up in prison,” Izuku mumbles into his knees, averting his gaze from the two men. “He really isn’t what people think he is— a-and I'm not saying he’s a saint or anything, but he’s not... he’s not a monster either. Prison seems... harsh.”

“I know, Kid,” Aizawa-Sensei sighs in exhaustion, “I know.”

“What are we hoping to get out of this?” Present Mic asks after a second of silence. And his voice is... odd, Izuku thinks. It’s not... put out, but there’s an uncertainty colouring the tone. Maybe hesitance.

“Ideally,” Aizawa-Sensei's eyes open again, head lulling in the other Pro’s direction, “Nezu is hoping to get the kid transferred into Yuuei’s custody. He’s got this idea of a Villain Rehabilitation program set in his mind that he wants to implement here. If he gets his way then... well, Deku will likely be the first participant.”

“Is that safe?” Present Mic hesitates. He glances down at Izuku, and Izuku thinks his face might’ve fallen at the question as the man’s face presses into a guilty grimace, “I’m sorry, Kiddo, but I need to know. This is... completely unorthodox. Even for a school like Yuuei.”

Sensei shrugs, “I’m not sure, honestly. I think it’s better for everyone if we have a mind like Deku’s working on our side, and I’m sure that’s what’s going to be Nezu’s convincing point as well. But... he’s been honest, and I do feel for the kid, honestly, Midoriya, but we can’t judge his entire character from one interrogation where he played nice. We know so little and Deku’s been working against us for so long now. Redemption is definitely on the table for him if he keeps this up, but he’ll need to work hard for that. It’s not wise to trust completely so quickly.”

“I...” Izuku swallows heavily, curling into himself a little more, “I think I understand, Sensei.”

Izuku keeps trying to put himself into the Heroes position, and Shigaraki into Deku’s. After everything they’d been though, he knows he couldn’t instantly trust Shigaraki if he suddenly had a change of heart, but he thinks... maybe everyone deserves to be saved.

He wants to save everyone he can, and it seems so easy now that Deku wants to be saved, but he knows it’s not going to be easy. None of this will be easy for his counterpart.

Deku is going to have to work for this.

If he wants redemption, he’s going to have to jump through hoops and be a better person.

Sensei bows his head in acknowledgment to Izuku before glancing back at the other Pro, who doesn’t look entirely content with the man’s answer. “He’ll still be guarded. Deku is Quirkless, so that’s not a problem. He’ll be under constant watch, and be tracked by some kind of monitor, I’d assume by Nezu, near constantly. I’m starting to think that rat doesn’t even sleep. I don’t think... Deku wants to be bad, Hizashi. I think he’s had a rough start to life that swept him in the wrong direction and now he wants some help getting back on his feet.”

“I understand that,” the blonde sighs, thumbing at his mustache, “but Deku’s done some shitty things. He’s done so much to us— to you, to our students, to Thirteen— I don’t think the staff, or even the students are going to be onboard with this.”

Izuku wilts thinking about that.

It had been so hard to get them to believe him, and he wasn’t even the Deku they knew; just unfortunate reality travel who ended up in the wrong reality.

Deku was this figure they feared.

Deku was the one whose name had people recoiling, that had fear curling into people’s expressions.

All Might had attacked without a thought when he’d thought Izuku was Deku, and the teachers had instantly thought Izuku was Deku who had brainwashed Aizawa-Sensei into allowing him access into the school.

People were scared of the name.

He really wouldn’t be in for an easy time.

“If people can’t acknowledge someone trying to better themselves, can’t accept someone working for and asking for redemption after putting in the time and working their ass off, then I don’t think they belong at this school, as a teacher or a student,” Aizawa-Sensei says slowly, but without hesitation.

“Shota—” Present Mic starts with a frown.

“No, I’m serious, Hizashi,” Sensei turns to stare at the other man. “We’re trying to raise the next generation of Heroes here. They need to have empathy towards someone else’s situation. They need to be able to accept that there are people who've done bad things and want to be better, are trying to be better. What kind of sad, pathetic world are we going to end up in if no one has empathy? If our Heroes aren’t able to see the bigger picture— if they can’t accept truth over rumors and gossip? I’ll be damned if I let my students turn into Heroes like Endeavor, Hizashi.”

A pause, and then: “If Deku is serious about this, I’m going to stand behind him and help him. I know you’re scared, and you have reason to be, but Deku deserves to have a chance to change— a chance to be better. He isn’t what we thought.”

Izuku stares wide-eyed at the man, even if Sensei’s gaze is locked on his husband.

“Everyone has a right to be hesitant. Everyone has a right to make their own assumptions— but no one has a right to base their entire view of someone on hearsay. That's what we have on Deku. We have word of mouth. We’ve let the word of convicted villains, and media outlets who crave attention and drama, ruin this kid’s life. He’s not innocent, but he at least deserves to have a chance to actually be someone other than the name villains and the media have built up around him. He deserves a chance to be Midoriya Izuku again.”

Present Mic wilts, but nods slowly, “okay, okay. I get it.”

“You’ll—” Izuku’s mouth feels dry as he wipes at wet eyes, “you’ll really be there for him too, Sensei?”

The man doesn’t look over, simply drops his gaze to his lap, “Heroes, and... the universe failed him,” the man admits quietly. “Hearing it from him... we failed. I know people, kids, are stuck in unfortunate situations and Deku... this isn’t a new concept, and I’m not pleased to know what he’s done, the analysis he’s given that has been used to hurt people, but... I’d rather see him admit to his mistakes and fight for redemption now then to see his face on the news, reporting yet another Quirkless suicide.”

Present Mic lets out a surprised noise thought his nose.

“Do you really think...” Present Mic’s voice wavers slightly.

“He told us himself, Hizashi,” Sensei sighs. “And I doubt that thought has never crossed your mind, huh, Midoriya? You and Deku grew up the same way, up until one specific moment not too long ago. I know life wasn’t easy for you before that.”

Suddenly feeling called out, and not wanting to admit it aloud, the teen remains silent.

Of course the thought had crossed his mind— it had been put there by others, and he was only human after all. Plus, he’d been reading in to and looking at statistics of Quirkless persons all his life, knowing he was just another statistic in the grand scheme of things, even if he’d grasped desperately at the hope of becoming a Hero until his fingers turned bone white.

He wonders if he’d still be alive if he’d never been offered One for All that day.

He hadn’t been locked on the roof like Deku was, so they’d differ there once again.

Which begs the question of what would’ve happened to him.

Probably nothing good, he realizes with a wince.

“I’m just...” Present Mic mumbles, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses, “I’m trying to wrap my head around this. I... wow, this is a lot to take in. I mean... you’ve definitely got a point, Sho. I just... those statistics... We knew Deku was supposedly Quirkless but... I never really thought, ya’know?”

“You know the Quirkless statistics just as well as I do, Hizashi.” Sensei cards his fingers through his own hair, “it’s a big problem that’s so easily overlooked. We failed him. As Heroes, as a society, as the ones trying to make a difference. This isn’t going to go away— discrimination isn’t going to go away. How many others are there? How many kids out there are like Deku? Like Midoriya?”

Present Mic bows his head, now looking a tad bit ashamed.

“He’ll also...” the underground Hero hesitates, “...if Nezu wins and gets to try to rehabilitate Deku, he’ll become the ward of the school. He’ll need someone to look after him. He’ll need a guardian. He’s still a child and his mother... that’s a whole different can of worms.”

“Shota,” Present Mic’s tone is dry, eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of— tell me that you don’t want to take Deku on as a ward. You want to have him here? In our dorms, our apartment? With your students?”

“I’m not scared of Deku,” the dark-haired man mutters. “He’s a kid, Hizashi, a kid who’s been in a shitty situation, who’s been coerced by Shigaraki and other villains. Deku didn’t even know what kind of situation he was really in working with them. You should’ve... you didn’t see his face, Hizashi. And he’s comfortable with me. He’s going to have a lot of enemies, but I’m not going to be one of them and I... I hope you won’t either.”

“He tried to kill you, Shota.”

“He offered analysis,” the man corrects sharply. “He didn’t lay a hand on me. He didn’t use a Quirk. He didn’t touch my students, or Thirteen. He might’ve shown up on the wrong side of things, but he played such a miniscule part in that attack. And...”

The underground Hero swallows uncertainly, glancing away from his husband as he continues, “...and Deku was right about his analysis. He could’ve done far worse, Hizashi. I saw the written analysis he did of me at the police station. He knew more than he offered. If he’d actually delivered that full analysis to Shigaraki that day, I wouldn’t have survived. He might've been on the wrong side of things but he chose to save my life instead of condemn me.”

Present Mic draws in a shaky breath, head bowing in a very slow nod.

“Do I at least get to meet the kid before you bring him home?”

“I doubt Deku will be going anywhere anytime soon,” Sensei shrugs, looking a little upset about the statement. “This is going to take time. There will be time to ease everyone into this before he gets here.”

Izuku shrinks into himself a little bit at the thought of Deku sitting in a holding cell at the police station. It’s better than prison he knows, but it’s still an awful thought.

He knows he can’t expect Deku to be released after a quick conversation like Izuku had been.

Deku was the one causing trouble— even if not to the extent they believed. He’s going to be processed, held, and then monitored, and if he is allowed to participate in this new program they’re brewing up, because that’s not guaranteed, he’s going to have to be on his best behavior.

Still, Izuku remembers Deku’s face on that rooftop. Remembers the fear he’d seen etched into the other’s face as he told Izuku how stuck he was. Deku really hadn’t had a lot of options—either turning himself in and getting arrested or being stuck in Shigaraki’s hands.

Izuku sucks in an unsteady breath, bowing his head.

“Will you... keep an eye on him Sensei?” Izuku finds himself asking slowly. He feels the man’s gaze settle on him, but refuses to look up as he squeezes his eyes shut. “He’s... scared. This is scary. And he... he does trust you; I think.”

“I’ll try to be as involved as I can, Midoriya,” the man’s gravelly voice tells him gently. “Deku won’t be going through this alone, if that’s what you think. I can’t always be there, but I’ll try my best to be there as much as I can.”

“Thank you,” Izuku finally lets his eyes slip open, looking up at the adult with gratitude. “Deku needs someone, and I know... I know you’ll help him like you’ve helped me. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. F-for, um, for Midoriya Izuku. Both of us.”

“Don’t thank me,” the man huffs, though his lips do curl up faintly in fondness, “this took time, and understanding. I don’t think we did the right thing at any step of the way when it came to you, and even Deku, and for that I apologize, but I’m not going to fail another Midoriya, got it, Kid?”

“Got it,” Izuku offers a small, pleased smile.

“And who knows,” the man continues in a light voice as he slumps back into the couch, “maybe Deku’ll turn out to be more like you then we think he is. You are the same person after all, right? Maybe all he needs is a stable environment and to not be used as a tool. I think this school could do with our own Midoriya Izuku, hey?”

“Awh,” Present Mic whines quietly, “I almost forgot we probably don’t get to keep you, Listener!”

“I almost forgot about that too,” Izuku admits quietly.

There’s a sting of sadness in his chest as he thinks about his friends, teachers and family back home. He wants to see them, mostly wants to hug his mom, and Sensei, and his friends and even Kacchan, even if he knows that might end up with a couple bruises.

Then that sting gets worse when he thinks about leaving these friends and teachers, and himself here.

He wants to go home, he truly, truly does, but on the other hand, he’s not entirely sure he really wants to leave everyone here behind. He’s not sure that he wants to leave the friends and help that have made this feel okay and watched over him.

He really owes Aizawa-Sensei a lot— Izuku doesn’t know what would’ve happened to him if he’d not found Sensei that night he’d arrived here, had Sensei not helped him like he had.

He knows he probably won’t get a choice (not that he’d ever be able to make that choice, he thinks, so that’s probably for the best), he’d arrived here against his will, and he doesn’t really belong here, not when this is Deku’s reality, he knows, but it still hurts his heart to think about leaving, as much as he does want to see his reality again.

He wants to go home, but this place... sorta does feel like home too, in a distantly familiar way.

A light pulse of pain breaks Izuku from his thoughts.

The teen brings a hand up to scratch at his hairline, just above where the pain flickered. It wasn’t Danger Sense. The pain is familiar, distantly, and the thought clenches uncertainly in his stomach.

“Something wrong, Kid?” Sensei asks quietly, and it’s only then Izuku realizes both teachers are looking at him.

“H-huh?” Izuku blinks owlishly.

“Your expression just went through a whole bunch of emotions,” Present Mic informs gently. “Looked like it hurt a bit too.”

“I think,” Izuku bites hard at his bottom lip, “maybe I might go home soon. I had a little pain in my head that wasn’t my Quirk and it just... I don’t know, felt different I guess.”

“Oh,” Sensei says, expression carefully blank. “I... see. You have that wallet on you still, right? Your ID card and the letter for your Aizawa that I gave you? I have a little more I’d like to add to the letter, if you don’t mind. It’ll be fast. It’s important that he gets it.”

Izuku bows his head in a nod, fishing the wallet out of his pocket. He opens the wallet and tugs out the couple sheets of paper, handing them over to Sensei.

The man bows his head and gets up off the couch, disappearing into what Izuku assumes is an office that he and Present Mic share. Izuku watches him go, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Well,” the blonde hums softly, “wanna come help me with dinner? I don’t know if you’ll just blink out of existence here or something, but I wanna spend whatever time I can with you before you’re gone, yeah? And we should send you off with a full tummy, ya’dig?”

“Okay,” Izuku smiles lightly, ignoring the steady pain in the side of his head as he pushes himself up off the ground and follows the Pro into the kitchen.

Aizawa-Sensei is gone for about ten minutes.

Izuku helps Yamada-Sensei in the kitchen, trying to ignore the constant thrum of his head. It’s light, thankfully, but it’s there. His heart feels heavy, and anxiety fills his chest.

He doesn’t remember coming here— doesn't even remember how he’d gotten here, so he wonders if he’d had any kind of headache when he’d been hit with the Quirk and sent here.

When the dark-haired Hero returns, he hands Izuku the neatly folded letter once more, and the teenager slips it back into the wallet before sliding the whole thing back into his pocket. Sensei joins him and Present Mic at the counter, the three of them all cooking together.

Izuku knows he’ll miss this.

He has gotten a lot closer to both Aizawa-Sensei and Present Mic in the time he’s been living with them, and he knows it’s not going to be like this when he’s back home. That sorta makes him sad.

They eat together; the three of them gathered around the table.

Izuku ignores the headache starting to hurt a bit more, and instead focusses on the conversation.

He’d asked about the child Deku had mentioned— the one who’s being held captive with the Yakuza. Deku hadn’t said much when they’d talked at the school, but he’d expanded on it at the police station, and Sensei doesn’t seem to mind sharing what they know with Izuku.

They hadn’t known here— the Detective, and Sensei, and even principal Nezu had all seemed surprised, shocked, when Deku had mentioned the little girl. If their realities are close to the same, Izuku assumes Sir Nighteye must be looking into the Shie Hassaikai here as well.

Izuku hazily remembers being briefed on the Yakuza group being investigated and monitored by Sir Nighteye and his agency before they’d gone on patrol that morning that Izuku had gotten hit by the Quirk that had sent him here; the Shie Hassaikai.

He knew of the Quirk erasing bullets that were whispered about, but he hadn’t known there was a child involved in the process of making them. He hadn’t known the Yakuza was using a little girl to craft their weapons, however the hell they were making that happen.

The Shie Hassaikai in his reality is also in possession of Quirk erasing bullets too, so it’s probably safe to assume the Yakuza is up to the same trouble in both realities. Both realities have a child involved and in danger.

Izuku’s stomach is uneasy as he takes a bite of rice at the thought of a child being used like that, in both this reality, as well as his own.

Izuku wonders if his Sir Nighteye knows about the little girl’s position in all this.

She hadn’t been mentioned, so he... he doesn’t think so. He knows now though, and he’ll make sure this child gets rescued, assuming she exists in his reality as well.

Izuku helps clean up dinner, the pain in his head steadily getting worse and worse as he goes. He tried not to let it bother him. Doesn’t want to admit to anything, doesn’t want it to happen, as much as he wants to go home too. He doesn’t know what he wants.

He’s washing the dishes with Aizawa-sensei when a sharp stab of pain makes him drop a glass into the sink of soap water. He’s unsure if it shatters, all noise falling on deaf ears as the pain overwhelms him.

For a second, all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart, and then he slowly comes back to awareness, hazy eyes squinting at the underground Hero who is holding him by his upper arms steadying him.

Izuku sees his mouth moving, sees it pulled downwards in a heavy frown as the teacher’s lips move, but it takes another second until the static in his head clears and he can hear the man.

“Hey. You with again us, Kid?” Sensei asks quietly, seeming to notice Izuku had slowly lost some of the tension. “We lost you for a second there. You okay?”

Izuku swallows, managing a light nod that makes his head ache, “urts, Sensei.”

“Your head?” the man’s tone has dropped, concern colouring it. Izuku whimpers as he nods miserably. “Okay. Okay, come with me. Why don’t you lie down on the couch, huh? I’m sorry it hurts.”

Izuku lets himself be guided, trusting the man entirely when there’s a light push to his shoulder. He plops down like he’s suddenly gone boneless and curls into an almost fetal position as the pain pulses.

He feels something wet over his forehead and eyes, and then there’s light pressure too.

“Shh,” that’s Present Mic, Izuku thinks, “it’s just a damp cloth, Listener. Sometimes it helps, ya’dig?”

Izuku swallows again, trying to swallow down the pain, squeezing his eyes shut under the cloth.

The coolness helps... well, maybe. He can’t really tell, but the cloth blocking out the light around him does ease the pain a bit. It still hurts a lot, far more than Danger Sense, or even the migraine he’d had when he’d gotten here.

“You’re okay,” Izuku hears Sensei’s soft voice, and then there’s a pressure on his ankle, like a hand has wrapped around it, giving light squeezes. “Try not to fight it. I know it hurts, but you need to go home now, Midoriya. You don’t belong here. I’ll be right here with you, okay?”

Izuku thinks he loses consciousness just after that, comforted by one of the few people he trusts wholeheartedly. He doesn’t fight the feeling anymore.

Monday, Alternate Reality

Shota sits with the teenager for a little over three hours after the kid nearly topples over in their kitchen due to pain. He’d known it was coming— not exactly sure what to expect but had known their time with the green-haired Hero student was coming to an end.

That he’d be going home to the reality he belonged in.

The underground Hero’s heart is in his chest as he’d watched the kid waver at the sink, the glass shattering in the sink ringing in his ears but forgotten as he’d lunged to grab a hold of the kid who was tipping sideways, almost falling over.

He hates seeing them hurt and not being able to help.

He hates feeling useless, but there’s nothing he can do for the boy besides try to ease the pain.

Shota sits by Midoriya, hand on the teenager’s ankle, gaze never straying from the boy. If he’s going back to the reality he came from, Shota doesn’t want him to be alone when it happens.

Hizashi comes and goes, shooting the kid soft, worried looks and Shota knowing frowns, with eyes dulled with sadness. The blonde comes into the room every so often to refresh the cloth over the boy’s head, which had seemed to ease Midoriya’s pain, even if just slightly.

Shota watches Midoriya, rubs gently at the boy’s shin and ankle, even if the student is no longer conscious, just so Midoriya knows he’s there, that he’s not alone.

It’s well into the evening. He’d have already started his patrol if he hadn’t been on leave.

The child hardly stirs, hardly moves until... until he’s gone.

He leaves as Shota assumes he’d arrived.

There one second and gone the next. Shota had only blinked— it had happened just that fast. Midoriya had been there, and then he’d blinked, and then the teenager was gone.

The universe righting itself in some morbid way that breaks his heart.

Shota’s hand hovers over nothing, where the child’s shin had been just a moment earlier, and the cloth that had been on the teen’s head is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t see the wallet either, which is good, Shota thinks distantly.

Shota forces his eyes shut, drawing in a shaky breath as he drops his hands to his lap.

The kid is gone.

It’s a good thing, honestly, but Shota’s heart aches.

He’ll never see Midoriya again.

Never that specific Midoriya. The Heroics kid who’d done what Shota couldn’t do; who’d inspired each and every student in Shota’s class. Who brightened every room he walked into, and was so kind, and helpful, and thoughtful, and clever— a destined Hero.

It shouldn’t feel like the kid had just died, but it does.

His stomach curls with grief, and he knows Midoriya is okay, will be okay, but Shota will never see him again. This is a good thing, but he can’t seem to get himself to believe that as he sits alone.

He knows the kid is back where he belongs, Shota hopes to God that’s where he is, at least. But it still hurts far more than he thought it was going to, now that he’s staring at the spot the teenager had been.

He’s gone.

Shota feels someone sit beside him, and then there’s an arm over his shoulder, tugging him into someone’s side. It’s Hizashi. Who else could it be? Shota takes a second to process the sudden proximity before turning into his husband’s embrace, burying his face in Hizashi’s shoulder.

The man shushes him gently, and then there’s a hand in his hair, carding carefully through his dark locks. Hizashi’s voice is watery, trying to hold it together, and Shota distantly realizes his own eyes are teary too.

He hardly ever cries.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Hizashi mumbles. “I’ll miss the little Listener too.”

Monday, Reality

One second, Shota had been asleep, and the next, the next there are hands on him, shaking him roughly. He stirs from his sleep, blindly swatting the persistent hands.

“Look, I know you’re tired, Shota,” comes his husband’s nearly frantic voice, “but I really need you to wake up.”

“Hizashi,” Shota groans out, reaching up to rub at tired eyes as the hand on him leave his body. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, slivering his eyes open to take in his husband, “what? What happened?”

Hizashi’s hand is on him again, tugging at his wrist and all but pulling him out of bed, “I need you to come see something and verify that I’m not crazy, Shota.”

“What?” Shota manages out, tired eyes flicking to the bedside table where the alarm clock sits. He’s only been asleep for a couple hours— Hizashi would’ve just gotten out of bed to get ready for patrol. What the hell was so pressing that he needed to wake Shota up.

Shota had hardly been sleeping since his student disappeared, or, as they’d theorized, was sent to an alternate reality. No one had really rested since the kid went AWOL during that fight.

Yagi and Tsukauchi had barely left the police station, and Sir Nighteye had his agency working around the clock, looking into the Quirk, and out searching for the kid in case they were wrong, and he was somewhere out there.

No one wants to rest when one of your own is missing, even if Midoriya was just a brand-new intern. He was still on an internship contract with Nighteye Agency.

Togata had taken Midoriya’s disappearance the hardest, Shota thinks. The third year had somehow gotten it into his head that it was his fault, that they hadn’t stuck together and now the kid was missing.

Togata had to physically be benched by Sir Nighteye himself, telling the kid to take a rest. Shota’s not sure he’d ever seen Togata look as crestfallen as when the kid as left the office with his shoulders hunched up to his ears.

And even the Shie Hassaikai raid had been pushed back while the search for the missing teenager went on. Sasaki still had his surveillance going on, and even if they didn’t raid right away, they were getting more information about their targets, which was always useful in high priority raids.

Shota himself had been dedication the time that wasn’t spent in meetings, explaining the situation to Midoriya-san, or breaking the news to the students, out patrolling his routes in hopes of finding the kid somewhere, even if he really did believe that Ame had unintentionally sent the kid somewhere.

They’d spent so much time trying to figure out what to do— half-baked plans of trying to send someone to where Midoriya ended up, using Ame Quirk. That one had been quickly scrapped, despite Shota’s insistence that he’d be the test subject if it meant finding Midoriya wherever he was.

They spent hours upon hours at Nighteye agency; searching for Quirks that might be able to help find the kid, or even just see where he was and what he was going through.

Shota had found himself wishing Sir Nighteye’s Quirk wasn’t touch-based. That they could’ve handed the man something of Midoriya’s and had him be able to see what the kid was going, like a sniffer dog following the trail of a missing child.

And when he wasn’t busy with his remaining students, working with the other about trying to locate the kid and drinking excessive amounts of coffee, he’d found it hard to let himself relax enough to actually sleep, which wasn’t something he struggled with very often.

Shota stumbles after Hizashi, palming at one eye as he’s tugged along.

Hizashi pauses in the doorway that sees into their living room, pausing like he’s afraid to move any further. Shota half expects his husband to point out a spider, or an insect of some sort to be dealt with, but Hizashi says not a thing.

“Hizashi,” the dark-haired man sighs tiredly, “what—”

And then he sees it.

What’s out of place in their apartment.

What had his husband acting so spooked.

Shota’s mouth goes dry, and he suddenly feels completely awake as he stares, wide-eyed, at the disturbance in their home.

“—what the fuck?”

“Oh, thank God you see him too,” Hizashi cries out, still not moving any closer, “I was so sure I was going crazy, Shota. I thought I was dreaming, or that I missed the Listener so much I imagined him or something. I thought I was hallucinating!”

Shota blinks owlishly, unable to draw his gaze away from the couch.

The couch where the very teenager who’d been missing for an entire week, was curled up in a little ball, asleep. The teen doesn’t move— besides the steady breathes Shota sees his chest rising and falling with. There’s a cloth on the teen’s forehead, over his eyes, but Shota sees the green curls.

There is only one kid he’s ever seen who has as vibrant green hair as what he’s looking at now. There’s literally no question about it— that's Midoriya Izuku, who’d been missing, asleep on their couch. In their apartment. Their locked apartment.

Shota himself hesitates for a second longer before inching into the room. Hizashi trails after him, keeping a step behind him. They pause beside the couch, each just looking at the teenager hesitantly. Neither wants to make the first move, but as far as they know, the kid could be an illusion, or a figment of their imagination.

Unlikely, but Shota’s starting to realize anything is possible.

Shota pinches the edge of the cloth between his fingers and lifts the corner up to expose Midoriya’s face, it’s no question, but a small part of him needs to see the teenager in his entirety to believe this.

His curls are slightly damp when the cloth is lifted away.

Shota’s eyes track over his shut eyes, and his nose, and the freckles decorating his face.

It really is the kid.

Where the hell had Midoriya been? How the hell did he get here?

“Midoriya?” Shota finally forces himself to say, taking the cloth away entirely. The teenager stirs as he’s disturbed, squirming faintly before his expression twists in pain; a familiar sight for Shota to see on Midoriya’s face, as much as he loathes for that to be the truth.

“Se’sei’,” is the whimpered response as the teen turns faintly to bury his face in the couch cushions. The kid groans in pain, withering as he cups his hands to his head.

“Midoriya,” Shota repeats again, unsure, “are you hurt?”

“He’ache,” the teen whispers into the couch, “s’rry, hurts.”

“A headache?” the man repeats, one eyebrow arching in concern, “do you know where you are, Midoriya? Do you remember what happened?”

The teenager mumbles something into the couch that Shota can’t make out no matter how hard he strains his ears to hear it, “wanna try that again, Kid? With actual words?”

Midoriya is still for a second before he’s turning over, eyes squeezed shut.

He unfurls slightly, still not opening his eyes as his face twists harder in pain, “we were washin’ dishes. My head started to hurt and I... I broke something? A cup, maybe? Sorry. You brought me to the couch, and Yamada-Sensei put a cloth on my head... t’s a headache, not brain damage, Sensei. How long was I asleep? Still really h-hurts.”

“...what?” Shota finds himself saying. “Midoriya, you’ve been missing for nearly a week.”

Not to mention the fact that Shota has never washed dishes with a student, has never had a student up in his apartment, that Hizashi hadn’t ever tended to the students like that, or the fact that Midoriya has been missing for a week.

Despite the obvious pain, the teenager shoots up.

Shota almost feels overwhelmed as Midoriya’s bright green eyes shoot right to him, taking him in, before they tear up. The boy draws in a stuttery breath, and his bottom lip wobbles as he stares at Shota.

“Sensei?” the kid’s tone is shaky, almost scared. “Is it really you? Am I... Am I back?”

“Midoriya,” Shota replied slowly, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “I don’t really know what that means, Problem Child.”

The kid moves before Shota can even blink— suddenly his arms are full of a sobbing teenager. The kid’s knees are on the armrest of the couch, and his arms are around Shota’s shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck.

Shota stills, unsure, before he slowly settles his arms around the boy and returns the hug.

He’s so far out of his depth.

“I was so scared,” the boy warbles out, “everything was the same, but it was different. I got arrested, an’ everyone hated me because the me there did some bad things, and he's kinda villain, but I didn’t do anything bad, Sensei, but they still were still so scared of me. I was always so scared, even with you around. I wanted to come home...”

“Midoriya,” Shota says again, a bit softer, “where were you? What happened?”

He has half a mind to think Midoriya was delirious.

He’s talking, sure, but he’s talking what sounds like nonsense.

“An alternate reality,” the teen sniffles clutching at Shota just a bit tighter, “where everything was the same, but I was a villain and not a Hero. I didn't know what to do, and it was terrifying. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't helped me. I-I never want to-to feel like that again, Sensei.”

“What?” Shota blinks, drawing away from the teenager to hold him at arm’s length.

He takes a second, while he can actually look at the teen, to take him in.

He looks tired, and there’s still that crinkle of pain in his expression that must be because of the headache he mentioned when he woke up. Further down, Shota spots a bandage on the kid’s hand, which makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.

Midoriya was hurt.

He’d gone somewhere and he’d gotten hurt.

What was the extent of it?

He tries to ground the kid by tightening his hold a bit, confusion and bewilderment pushed aside to focus on his student, “Midoriya, hey, look at me for a second, alright?”

Slowly, teary eyes lift to him. It takes Shota a second to find his voice again now that he’s staring at his missing student’s face. He draws in a shaky breath, fingers tensing on the boy’s arms quickly before loosening once again, “are you okay? Were you hurt anywhere else?”

Midoriya shakes his head, bowing his chin down as he sniffles, “j-just the migraine, Sensei. But... but it’s okay, it happened there too, just, not as fast. It really hurts. I think... I really need to sleep still, Sensei...”

“Okay,” the man breathes out, unsure what else there is to say. He’s not going to force the kid to endure pain by answering his questions, even if he really wants some answers. “Okay, Kid. You can sleep. Sleep if you need to, but we’re going to be talking when you wake up. You have a lot of people to answer to.”

Midoriya nods against Shota’s shoulder before sinking out of his arms, flopping back down onto the couch and curling into himself just as he had been.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and Shota winces at the thought of having a migraine. They’re not fun. And this one must really be something because he's found that Midoriya has a frighteningly high pain tolerance.

“Would you like me to refresh that cloth for you, Listener?” Hizashi asks softly, as to not disturb the sick kid. “Did it help you, ah, uh, before you came back? Where... wherever you were?”

Midoriya still winces slightly at the sound, drawing in an unsteady breath.

The teen seems to take a second to calm the headache before he nods faintly, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light. The teen curls into himself even more, and Shota has half a mind to contact Recovery Girl.

He doesn’t just yet, if the kid wants to sleep, Shota will let him sleep for a little bit. He did just, theoretically, jump between realities, right? There’s bound to be repercussions of that.

Hizashi shoots Shota a look before taking the cloth from Shota’s hand, he hadn’t even realized he was still holding it, as he disappears behind them and into the kitchen. Shota faintly hears the faucet running.

There’s just one moment of silence between the teacher and student.

“I missed you, Sensei,” Midoriya whispers, face still pinched in pain and eyes hidden behind his arm. “You helped me so much, or... or he did, but I still missed you, and my classmates and my All Might... I-I never want to do that again...”

“Okay,” Shota replies awkwardly. He doesn’t understand enough to know what the kid means. “Hopefully you never have to, alright? You’re home now. You’re going to be alright. We’ll figure everything out later, okay?”

Midoriya offers a watery smile, and Shota knows, if the boy’s eyes were visible, he’d be seeing tears welling too. His heart swells in relief at the thought. He never thought he’d miss Midoriya’s tears.

Hizashi returns, and after some prompting, the kid lets his arm fall from his face so the blonde can position the cloth back over his eyes and forehead, just like when they’d found the boy. Hizashi talks quietly to the kid as he settles the cloth, moving so gently and carefully.

When Hizashi stands back to his full height, Shota blinks in surprise when he spots a second, dry cloth in the man’s hand. It’s an identical one to the one currently set on Midoriya’s head.

They only one have one of that specific cloth, and it's not exactly a common pattern. Nemuri had given it to them as a gag gift when they'd moved in together, as a house warming gift. It's a strange cloth with cats with mustaches on it, and Shota is secretly a little fond of it.

Shota’s brain stalls at the fact.

Where... where had Midoriya gotten that cloth if it wasn’t from their kitchen?

Shota glares hard at the offending fabric Hizashi is holding out between them, only drawing his gaze away when movement catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. “Midoriya? What’s wrong?”

Midoriya is squirming, one hand slipped into the pocket of the pants he’s wearing, while the other is flat on the cloth, keeping it from moving at all or slipping off his face.

“I... forgot,” Midoriya mutters tiredly as he fights against his own pocket.

Before either he or Hizashi can say anything, the teenager pulls his hand free of his pocket, and there, clutched between his fingers, is a wallet. One Shota has never seen before.

It’s not Midoriya’s wallet, he’s seen that before.

The teen throws his hand, wallet and all, over the edge of the couch, and just lets it hang there. Like he’s waiting for Shota, or Hizashi to grab it from him. Neither of them moves.

“t’s for you, Se’sei,” Midoriya continues when he realizes no one is going to just take a random wallet from him. He waves his hand thoughtlessly behind himself, as if trying to tempt them. “From Sensei. Er, um, other Sensei. Alternate Sensei. Important documents. That’s... that’s what he said. In the wallet.”

Shota takes the wallet slowly, and instantly Midoriya withdraws his hand and curls it into his chest with his other hand. The kid shifts, and... Shota thinks maybe he’s passed out again.

He’s not surprised, the kid doesn’t really appear to be all there at the moment. Pain is clearly clouding his head, and there's a good chance the kid is also trying to orient himself now that he's back in the reality he belongs in once again.

Maybe after he’s slept a bit more he’ll be a little more coherent.

Hizashi crowds into Shota’s space as the man flips the wallet open. The first thing he sees is the kid’s student ID. That clears up where that piece of identification went. The second, tucked into the gap where the banknotes are supposed to be, is folded up wad of paper.

Shota’s nose scrunches up as he pulls out the note, handing the wallet to Hizashi to hold onto.

Aizawa Shota

That’s his writing, but he sure as hell didn’t write that. He doesn’t even know how Midoriya would’ve gotten his hands on something like this. What even is this?

“Shota,” Shota lifts his gaze from the papers, attention flicking to his frowning, uncertain husband, “I need to go on patrol, do you want me to stay here with you and the Listener?”

“No,” Shota shakes his head, “go on patrol. I’ll keep an eye on the reality jumper. It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll call you if I need you for whatever reason.”

His husband offers a gentle, yet sympathetic smile as he nods.

It’s only a couple minutes later that Shota finds himself alone in their apartment— well, with Midoriya, at least. Shota is perched on the edge of the couch beside the sleeping teenager, keeping an eye on him. He truthfully doesn’t think he’d even be able to leave the kid right now.

He’s still processing everything and actually seeing Midoriya makes that easier. He’s back now. He’s relatively safe. The kid is okay, maybe not mentally, completely, but physically. Mostly, at least.

Shota stares down at the folded papers clutched between his fingers, eyeing the handwriting for any signs of forgery, but he spots nothing. It looks as if he could’ve written his name himself, and he’ll admit his handwriting isn’t the easiest to read or forge.

He glances sideways at the kid next to him, considering the sleeping form that had insistently searched out and made sure Shota got this letter, even in pain, before looking back at the papers and unfolding them slowly.

Aizawa Shota,

This is something I never expected to be writing. A letter to myself. Illogical. But there’s no other way I could think of to reach an alternate version of myself from an entirely different reality that, before meeting your student, I never thought could exist. I wanted you to know that I’m the one who’s been watching over your student while he’s been stuck here. I don’t know about you, but if I was in your shoes, I’d be comforted to know someone was looking out for my kid when I couldn’t be.

Now, assuming we’re the same person, which, Midoriya has assured me on multiple occasions, we are, I’m going to skip the remainder of the pleasantries of this letter.

From where I’m standing, your teaching is subpar.

What have you been doing? Have you even been watching your class at all? Have you not been watching the interactions between them, keeping tabs on the relationships forming, whether negative or positive? Keeping an eye out for harmful interactions between them, because even where I am, I can see there are relationships as such in your class. Part of your job is to make sure the students are safe, especially within the school. Within your classroom, under your watch.

Have you been doing that?

Have you even noticed the riff between Midoriya and Bakugou?

You keep partnering them up. You’re hurting both of them by doing so. I don’t give a shit if it’ll help them grow, if you’re trying to strengthen them by having them work with people they don’t particularly like, just know that you’re forcing a victim to work coherently with their bully.

You might not be aware, but Bakugou Katsuki spent his childhood bullying Midoriya. Bakugou Katsuki harmed, physically and mentally, tormented and even suicide-baited the child you’re forcing to work with him.

That’s bullshit.

I don’t care if Midoriya never told you anything; you should have been able to see the tension between them. You’re a teacher. You work with kids. That’s what you do. And not even that, you’re a Pro Hero. I know you have the ability to pick up on unease, but you ignored it. You believed the rivalry schtick that Midoriya tried to feed to me, without even questioning how intense it appeared to be.

I know how my Bakugou acts, and even within a second of the two of them being in the same room, I could sense there was something amiss. You should have looked closer. You should have asked questions— gotten to the bottom of any unsightly interactions you see in your classroom between students. Especially students who came from the same middle school and grew up together.

But you didn’t, and one of your students suffered because of that.

You’re slacking.

Your inattention has forced Midoriya into a toxic environment. Pairing the two up and ignoring Bakugou’s less than ideal personality has aided in the harmful relationship they have. You’ve turned a blind eye to his obvious poor attitude for too long. I beg you to simply study how the two interact if you don’t believe me. I know the truth; I got the story from both of them, and despite our different realities, this is something that has not changed.

I have punished my Bakugou for his wrongdoings. I will not stand for bullying within my classroom, whether current or prior. The Bakugou that I teach sees he is wrong and is taking steps to better himself and his attitude.

Your student will not make it as a Hero if he never sees what he’s done is wrong. If he’s never punished or faces consequences for his actions that have harmed people.

I didn’t have Midoriya in my class to have Bakugou lash out at, there was no way for me to truly see the red flags in Bakugou’s personality until I saw him with Midoriya. You have. I never would’ve seen the hostility towards Midoriya if your student never ended up here. The kid told me you rescued him from Bakugou during the Quirk Apprehension test on the first day of school. Stop and consider the implications of that interaction in particular.

Your lack of intervention is teaching them that it’s alright— that it doesn’t matter and that your past doesn’t deserve consequences. Bakugou made someone’s life hell; he tormented someone for the better part of his life, and he got away with it. He won’t learn from that. Do you know what he did learn? He learned that he could get away with it. That how he acted, what he said and did, was okay because he was never told differently. That his actions weren’t completely disgusting.

And Midoriya thinks it’s normal, defends Bakugou and doesn’t bother mentioning it.

You need to figure your shit out and do something about that before one of them gets hurt. Before Bakugou does something stupid and gets himself or someone else hurt. He is a good kid, but you need to correct him before it’s too late. You’re a smart man, so stop acting so stupid.

Now, let's talk about Midoriya.

What do you really know about the kid? How about the plethora of scars adorning the child’s arms? The lack of Quirk control he’d started the year off with, how he’d broken so many limbs with a Quirk he’s had for years? Why Bakugou would discriminate against the kid when he has such a strong Quirk?

If you think you know Midoriya, I’d like to personally tell you that you’re sorely mistaken.

Midoriya is a late bloomer.

How late you might be wondering? He manifested his Quirk on the day of the entrance exam.

What you saw of the boy on that first day, when he apparently tried his hand at taking out the zero-pointer for whatever reason, was the absolute first time the child had ever used his Quirk.

You’re not entirely at fault for this, of course. That would be illogical. Midoriya should’ve told you. But you should’ve asked more questions. You should’ve asked why his control was so bad. Why he could hardly handle his own Quirk. You are a teacher, his teacher, and he was hurting himself using his own Quirk. You should have investigated. You should have pulled him aside and asked. He might have told you. He told me, after all.

You’ve let him suffer alone. And I can’t argue that he hasn’t made progress by himself, he’s strong and he will be a good Hero when the time comes, but have you considered how strong he’d be if you’d offered more aid? I’m guilty of letting the students figure things out on their own as well, it is a good lesson and helps them learn independently, but I think we should both learn from this.

We’ve relied too much on self-teaching. They are still students, and they need guidance. We both need to start being more involved in their learning. I will learn from this and adjust how I teach appropriately, and I hope you will as well. They deserve that.

We're supposed to be the teachers. We are the adults in this situation.

You are supposed to watch over him and help him grow into a Hero. You’re supposed to keep him safe, not just on the field, or during an attack, but during school too. In a classroom setting.

You haven’t bothered to ask questions.

You haven’t bothered to help him.

How have I, the Aizawa who’s known him for just a couple days, gotten more information out of the kid than you, the Aizawa who’s had the kid in his class for months? You’re slacking. Your inattentiveness will hurt people. It already has hurt Midoriya.

I have half a mind to just let you flounder and figure everything out on your own, seems to me that you need a lesson just as much as the students, but in doing so, Midoriya would continue to suffer under your care. That’s unacceptable.

I’m aware that you won’t have the same opportunity to really see where things have gone wrong. I have the luxury of looking into the disarray that is Midoriya Izuku’s school career. I am simply an uninvolved party that knows how you think and is able to see things from an angle you likely never will.

You have failed.

You failed that child.

This is just criticism from yourself.

I want you to be better. We are the same person, and I know if you were telling me what I’m telling you now, I would want to be better. I acknowledge that you can’t see what I have, will likely never understand from my point of view, but I’m not about to let you keep failing that boy.

Midoriya has been struggling. With his Quirk, and with his relationships with his peers, mainly Bakugou, and even with some of the staff employed at Yuuei. He has the self-preservation skills of a toddler, and he’s willing to put himself at risk if it means bettering someone else.

That’s not healthy.

You need to address that.

I am not his teacher, you are. I can’t change his world for him, but you can. He trusts you, even after you’ve been such an asshole to him. Get your head out of your ass and start being the teacher they need. You can’t expect them to become decent Heroes alone.

Also, if you’ve noticed the injury on his hand, I apologize for sending him back hurt, but the idiot taunted Todoroki into using his fire side and got the repercussions of that. I’m under the impression that something similar happened at your Sports Festival?

You must be doing something right over there because your students appear to be stronger than mine, though, I don’t know if that’s you, or Midoriya’s presence in your class. Either way, they’re going to be fine Heroes come graduation. Keep them on the right track.

And speaking of that injury, there is something you need to know about, and I urge you to address it as soon as possible. I’m going to level with you, this is one of the more pressing things I’m going to be informing you of.

The kid’s terrified of the nurse’s office. I don’t know how many times you’ve sent him to Recovery Girl for an injury he got in class, but I find it unlikely that he ever actually made his way there without a chaperon. You need to get on this. Recovery Girl told him that she wouldn’t fix his injuries if they had anything to do with his Quirk. She told him she wouldn’t heal self-inflicted injuries.

That’s bullshit.

He is a child, with a new Quirk. A dangerous Quirk that he can’t help. There are going to be self-inflicted injuries, and she had absolutely no right to say that to a first-year student. I’m beyond pissed, and it didn’t even happen here.

I know you don’t know about this, but you need to fix it.

He should not be afraid of the nurse’s office. He should not be afraid of help. He shouldn’t have to question whether or not he’ll be treated if he needs medical attention. Midoriya is going to get himself hurt one of these times by not seeking help when he needs it if you don’t correct this fear.

He was burned badly in my class and didn’t even consider going to see Recovery Girl until I forced him.

She needs consequences for what she said. I don’t care how long Recovery Girl has worked at this school, she does not get to make decisions like that, or to threaten withholding medical attention from a student.

What I’m trying to get to here, is that you need to be better. You need to get your head out of your ass and stop turning a blind eye. You have not been a good teacher. From what Midoriya’s told me you’re not even close— like why the hell did you guys muzzle Bakugou on live television? There is a large margin for improvement for both of us.

Despite everything, Midoriya still trusts you; trusts you enough to find me when he needed help.

Don’t break that.

Try not to keep disappointing me.

Sincerely,

Your unimpressed counterpart, Aizawa Shota.

p.s. I’m writing this as an afterthought because I was just informed of something you need to know about. Midoriya didn’t manifest his Quirk in the traditional sense, he was given it. By All Might. I’m aware that that sounds illogical, and I wouldn’t believe it either— it's impossible— but that’s the truth. That explains the late manifestation, doesn’t it? And it explains the relationship Yagi has with the kid. You’re observant, you would’ve noticed. I noticed when it happened here, and I only know because in my reality, Yagi has the same relationship with another kid who suddenly manifested a second Quirk in his third year. Sound familiar to a certain late bloomer?

You also need to be aware that he’s going to start manifesting more Quirks. He manifested a new Quirk called Danger Sense while he was here. I don’t have the time to go into it, the kid is showing signs of returning to your reality, and I need this letter to be on his person when he goes so you smarten the hell up, but it’s vital that you’re aware. You need to help him. You need to be involved. He’s going to need you, even if he’d never ask for your help. Don’t make him ask, just be there for him.

Take care of that kid. He’s going to be a great Hero, and you’re lucky to have him as he is.

Good luck.

Shota stares down at the letter in his hands, the edges, where his fingers are tight on the paper, are wrinkled and creased. Shota wants to believe this is all fake, maybe it’s a joke of some sort because what the actual fuck had he just read? But he knows Midoriya had gone to another reality. And that... that is his signature at the bottom of the page, no obvious sign of forgery.

Not that he thinks Midoriya would ever forge his signature.

The kid seems smart, and like he values living.

So that means...

That means this is all true. Everything. All of it.

He had unintentionally fucked up, hadn’t he? Holy shit.

Shota’s gaze flicks over to where Midoriya is still passed out, where he’ll likely remain that way for quite a while if his lack of stirring is anything to go off.

Great, that gives Shota time to make some calls; and there are a lot he needs to make after reading that letter. There’s so much he needs to do, so much he needs to fix.

His alternate self is right.

Shota shoots the kid one last look before stands slowly. He grabs the cloth off the kid’s head, unsure how to feel about the fact that Midoriya hardly even stirs, even when disturbed by the cloth both leaving and returning to his head, and heads to the kitchen to re-damp the cloth.

Only when Midoriya is tucked under a throw blanket, and has the cloth settled back over his forehead and eyes does Shota head to his and Hizashi’s office, his phone and the letter Midoriya had given him in his hands. He leaves the door ajar enough to see the kid curled into a ball on his couch and takes comfort in the fact that Midoriya is back, right there with him.

Shota plops into the office chair with a heavy sigh, glaring daggers at the letter now on the desktop that makes him feel like a piece of shit teacher. He deserves it, he knows, but that doesn’t stop the guilt and shame pooling in his stomach.

This is definitely going to take some time.