Chapter Text
Waking up that morning, Izuku could feel it was going to be a bad day. It wasn’t just the ache in his bones and his arms, phantom pains from the Sport Festival.
It wasn’t even the nightmare from the alley with Stain, except this time he had been too slow, and Iida’s blood pooled at his feet and his eyes were lifeless and, god, he was such a failure.
No, the dream was his new normal. Jolting up out of bed, heart racing, fighting back the urge to vomit, slick with sweat — that was fine, after a dozen of times. He was fine. He had to be fine. He couldn’t fail All Might, not after everything the man had done for him, after entrusting him with One for All (One for All!). He couldn’t prove himself even more undeserving by not being fine because of a few bad dreams.
So, no, it wasn’t the nightmares that made him want to stay in bed and pull the cover over his head and hide. It was the gut instinct, the sick pit in his stomach, that he had developed over the years to survive.
Something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong today.
Still Izuku gritted his teeth, pulled off the covers, and got ready for his morning run anyway. Because heroes can’t be weak cowards. And he was trying — shit he was trying so hard — to live up to that.
But he didn’t break a bone, fall flat on his face, or get attacked by a villain on his morning run. At breakfast with his friends, they smiled and chatted with him like normal, all excited for the upcoming work studies. His morning classes went without a hitch, and he even got a “great job, little listener!” from Present Mic for his latest English assignment.
By midday, Izuku was thinking that maybe for once, everything was looking up, and that he had been imagining things this morning.
That is, until Aizawa-sensei called for him to stay behind at the end of class.
His classmates all walked past, joking about him being in trouble again, and Kirishima nudging his ribs with a “C’mon guys, it’s Midoribro, can’t be that bad.”
From the moment Aizawa-sensei had called his name all he could feel was panic. It started in his chest and expanded into his extremities, leaving him shaking and frantic. Some part of him registered his classmates moving around him, laughing about him being held back by Sensei because he was such a problem child, and why did nothing ever change?
When the last student exited and the door clicked close, Izuku stood in front of his teacher’s desk and tried to remember how breathing worked.
Shit. This never got easier. Especially not now, not with a teacher he actually liked, who has risked his life for him and his classmates over and over.
Izuku risked a glance up, and Aizawa-sensei blinked back at him with his typical exhausted ‘Why-do-I-even-do-this-again?’ expression.
“Relax, problem child, you’re not in trouble,” Sensei told him. “But there’s something I want to discuss with you, if you wouldn’t mind following me back to my office.”
Not in trouble? But going back to his office?
Izuku knew that couldn’t be true. Going back to a teacher’s office always meant he was in trouble. And always for the worse infractions.
Oh, god, was Sensei trying to lure him into a sense of false security before he was punished? Was this another logical ruse?
His breathing stuttered, but he managed a nod to Sensei because what else could he do?
Aizawa-sensei flashed him another look, but Izuku couldn’t tell what it meant. Probably a look of irritation. That was the go-to look for teachers. That or disgust.
“Alright, c’mon kid,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.”
Before Izuku could try to come up with some sort of response, some sort of lie that he believed Sensei, his teacher turned and left Izuku to scurry after him.
He kept spiraling the whole way to the Teacher’s Lounge, going over all his past times being summoned into private offices, and desperately searching for what infraction he had committed. Maybe if he could figure it out, he could be prepared with what to say, how to act, how to make it up to Aizawa-sensei.
Too soon, they arrived at Sensei’s office. On reflex, Izuku surveyed the room. Only the one door, and a window facing where they had the Quirk Assessment on his very first day. There was a desk, with a computer and stacks of paperwork. The rest of the space was mainly empty, apart from a few leather chairs, a matching leather couch with a yellow sleeping bag on top, and a few bookcases.
Normally, Izuku would have peered curiously at the book titles, most of which seemed to revolve around teaching or hero work or ethics. But he was too on edge, and Izuku’s focus flickered away and returned to his teacher.
Aizawa-sensei watched him with those weary eyes. “Take a seat, kid.”
Izuku was quick to obey, jumping into the closest chair. He winced at the slight noise the chair made at his sudden movement.
Sensei didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he reached for a file on his desk. He elected to sit in a leather chair next to Izuku, rather than behind the desk.
Izuku’s stomach clenched at the close proximity. He folded his hands in his lap and kept his eyes trained on them, all in an attempt to stay calm and to not react.
Please, don't be one of those meetings.
“Midoriya, I wanted to talk to you about your recent assignments.”
Oh, god. Izuku swallowed back the vomit rising up in his throat.
Midoriya, we need to talk about your classwork. Don’t lie to me, boy.
Sensei pulled out a few papers from recent tests and class assignments.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the memory.
No quirkless brat could get such a high score without cheating. We all know people like you have a lower intelligence level. It’s just pathetic you would cheat and dare to perform better than your classmates with actual quirks. Normally, this would result in expulsion, but I’m willing to make an exception . . .
The words burst out of him before he could help it. “I swear, I didn’t cheat, Sensei! Please, please don’t expel me! I-I promise, I’ll—”
“Cheat?” Aizawa-sensei cut him off. “Kid, I don’t think you cheated. Do you really think anyone in your class could get away with cheating in front of a bunch of pro heroes?”
Izuku gasped out the breath he had been holding, shoulders slumping in relief.
“I swear, Sensei, I didn’t c-cheat and I’l—I’ll do better, I p-promise.”
Aizawa-sensei eyed him seriously, his mouth pulled down, and oh, god, this was it, wasn’t it?
“Midoriya, you are within the top five of the class. This isn’t about your performance. I just noticed an inconsistency in some of your recent tests.”
“An inconsistency, Sensei?” he managed to repeat.
“Yes. It doesn’t make sense, which is why I wanted to discuss it with you before I made any incorrect conclusions. I noticed you were missing questions that I know you should be getting right. See, here?” Aizawa-sensei pointed to a question marked red from a recent exam. “You got this question wrong, but I remember you explaining the concept in detail to Kaminari and Ashido the evening before. And this one too, you had answered me in class about it a few weeks earlier.”
Izuku’s throat closed. He had gotten careless. At UA, with friends and teachers who didn’t seem to be out to get him, he had grown complacent.
“Sorry, Sensei,” he whispered. “I-I make mistakes sometimes, on tests is all. I must have j-just forgotten the—the concept.”
Aizawa-sensei sighed. “That’s the thing, kid. If this happened once or twice, I’d believe you. But this has been happening for weeks. It doesn’t add up. My only conclusion is that you are purposefully answering questions wrong. Although I have no idea why that might be. Really, you should be top of the class based off what I’ve observed.”
You'll never be top of anything. A quirkless nobody like you will always be at the bottom. That's all you're good for.
That urge to vomit came again, stronger this time.
“No, I-I can’t be top of the class!”
Aizawa-sensei raised his eyebrows. “And why not, problem child?”
The words came out before he could stop them. “Because I’m quirkless!”
Blood rushed to his head, and between that and his pounding heart, it took Izuku a few beats to realize what he had admitted.
“I—no—that’s not what I meant,” he hurried to say. “I mean I used to be quirkless. Not anymore. I have a quirk now. I do. I’m not lying.”
“Easy, kid, take a few breaths,” Aizawa-sensei said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I never accused you of anything. Would you mind explaining what you mean? How long until your quirk came in?”
Izuku stared down at his hands, clasped together so tightly he could feel his fingernails cutting into his skin.
“N-Not until a year ago, r-right before the UA entrance exam,” he choked out. “I’m sorry, Sensei, I should have told you sooner.”
“Before the entrance exam?” Aizawa-sensei repeated, voice pitched low.
Izuku glanced up, then immediately regretted it. His teacher looked furious, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Izuku collapsed in half, gripping his knees and fighting back the overwhelming terror highjacking his system.
“Please, don’t expel me, sir,” Izuku gasped out. “Please, please, I’ll do anything. I swear I’ll get better. I-I know I’m behind everyone, but I-I’m starting to get used to my quirk, and I k-know it’s unacceptable that I keep breaking my bones, but it’s been awhile since I d-did that. Please, please, please.”
Somewhere in there, his pleas turned into sobs. He tried to choke them back — he was such a worthless crybaby — but his body wouldn’t listen.
Oh, god, Sensei knows he’s quirkless now, and he's going to be expelled, leaving his dream destroyed, shattered, in pieces. Broken just like him. How stupid had he been? Did he really think a stupid failure like him could ever make it as a hero? Had he been so delusional he thought no one would notice?
Of course Aizawa-sensei would. Nothing got past him. Not a weak, worthless imposter like him, not worthy or deserving. And Kacchan was right. Why hadn’t he just pitched himself off that roof when he had the chance?
“—oriya. Midoriya. Izuku.”
His given name brought back a little comprehension, and he realized he wasn’t breathing, and everything was blurry and the room was upside down.
A panic attack, some part of him registered. He was having a panic attack in front of his teacher.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He used to have episodes all the time in front of teachers, and it always made it worse. They would scold him or punish him for his attention-seeking behavior, or insult him the entire time.
From a very young age, Izuku learned he could never have panic attacks in front of teachers, and that they were not to be trusted under any circumstances.
But there was a hand on his knee, and Aizawa-sensei was gently instructing him to count with him. Finally, after a few desperate gulps, he managed to comply with the instructions until his breathing had mostly evened out.
The hand on his knee squeezed lightly. “Good job, kid. Now, can you use your five senses and name five things you see, hear, smell, touch, or taste?”
Izuku obeyed, naming off random objects in the room and the feeling of his body pressed against the chair. By the end of the exercise, he was out of the episode. His eyes still burned from crying, and his head ached, but at least he could breathe again.
He expected Sensei to release him and launch into a lecture for his shameful lack of control. Maybe send him off to Recovery Girl for someone else to deal with him. Or just expel him on the spot.
Please, please don't expel him.
Sensei did none of those things. His hand stayed on his knee, and he remained crouched in front of Izuku. There was a softer look on his face, but Izuku was sure he was imagining it.
God, how desperate could he be? Completely delusional.
“I’m glad you’re back, kid,” he said, a gentleness to his words that left Izuku on edge, certain he was being lulled into a trap.
“I’m sorry, Sensei,” Izuku whispered. “Sorry you had to—to deal with that. It w-won’t happen again.”
“I’m not upset with you for having a panic attack,” Aizawa-sensei said in his normal matter-of-fact way. “That would be irrational to hold you accountable for something outside your control.”
Izuku blinked at him, completely lost. In his confused silence, Aizawa-sensei pulled back his hand and stood up. For a moment, Izuku strained his neck looking up at his teacher, but Aizawa-sensei quickly returned to his previous spot.
“Alright, kid, do you still feel up to talking? I have some questions for you.”
Izuku swallowed back his fear and forced himself to meet his teacher’s eyes and nod in confirmation.
He has already had a pathetic breakdown in front of the pro hero. He couldn’t afford any more screwups.
“Now, you said you got your quirk at 14?”
He winced at the skeptical edge to his teacher’s question.
“I’m not lying, I swear, Sensei! The doctor, he, um, said my body wasn’t strong enough for m-my quirk, and it waited until I built enough muscle before it a-activated.”
Aizawa-sensei regarded him for a long moment, and Izuku did his best not to squirm.
What if he didn’t believe him? What if Sensei decided to expel him because of it? He promised All Might he wouldn’t tell anyone. He promised!
“I suppose that explanation is logical, considering the blowback of your quirk,” Sensei finally said. “But more importantly, I owe you an apology, Midoriya.”
“An apology?” Izuku squeaked, his eyes wide.
Teachers don’t apologize. Not ever.
“Yes. If I had known, I would have handled the Quirk Assessment on that first day differently. It’s very impressive the growth you’ve had in such a short amount of time, all things considered.”
Would have handled the Quirk Assessment differently. Izuku knew what that meant. Sensei would have handled him differently, now that he knew he wasn’t like everyone else. He wasn’t at the same level as everyone else.
“My first impression was that you never bothered to practice your quirk, out of laziness or arrogance. Obviously, I know that not to be true now, but it has always bothered me. Now I understand, and we can work to rectify the situation.”
Rectify the situation.
Izuku felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. It reminded him of when he was younger and Kacchan punched him so hard in the gut he could only lay on his back, wheezing, for ten minutes.
Sensei was going to expel him. Expelled. And after everything, his dream would be over.
Izuku fought back his frustrated tears, willing himself to stop being such a crybaby. Aizawa-sensei was logical — maybe he could convince him.
“Please, Sensei, I’ll get up earlier, and work after school, I don’t need so much sleep! And—and my lunch breaks! I can cut t-those short, and please, please, I swear I can do better! Please don’t make me l-leave UA! I’ll do anything!”
Izuku swallowed back his fear as those dark eyes watched him, scrutinizing him like he was a puny insect.
“You’ll do anything?” Sensei repeated.
You’ll do anything to get into UA, won’t you, boy?
Izuku had wanted so, so badly for Sensei to be different. He had always admired Eraserhead as a pro hero, and then Sensei had saved his life. And, yes, he was strict, but so much nicer than any teacher before.
But he was still a teacher. And Izuku was still a quirkless, useless freak who didn’t deserve any of this. Not for free, at least.
His chest ached, certain that his heart had snapped in two. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do this again. He could never forget, but that part of his life had been shoved into a corner of his mind.
He thought he’d never have to go back. But he would, for his dream.
His body was numb as he stumbled up and toward his teacher. He knew he was disassociating, but he did nothing to stop it.
He needed to turn it all off. Try to pretend none of this was happening, so he could survive it.
He reached out to Sensei’s pants with shaky hands. Before he could do more than brush his fingers against the material, Aizawa-sensei stepped backwards, clearly startled.
“Midoriya—”
“S-Sorry,” Izuku choked out. “I d-didn’t realize—”
He had hoped his teacher only wanted Izuku to touch him, or suck him off. But apparently that wasn’t enough payment.
You can do this, he told himself. You have to do this.
With shaky hands, he started unbuttoning his school uniform. The tears he had been fighting to keep at bay kept blurring his vision, and his hands were trembling so hard undoing even one button took forever.
He was such a failure. He couldn’t even do this right, and Sensei would lose his patience, and he’d be expelled for sure.
“Sorry, I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Some part of his brain registered his teacher calling his name, but he felt like he was underwater, and everything was blurry and he could barely hear anything besides his heart trying to burst out of his chest.
Then two hands were on his upper arms, stopping his motion. Izuku froze. And like that, he was back in Aldera Middle School.
The two hands moved from his upper arms down his back, squeezing his rear. He could feel the hot breath on his skin. Lips touched his throat.
“Pretty boy,” Mr. Tanaka whispered into his ear. “Such a pretty boy, to make up for being quirkless, useless.”
Izuku tried not to flinch at the roaming hands, touching and grabbing him down there. He swallowed back the vomit, knowing it only ended badly for him if he lost control over his bodily functions.
“Don’t you want to thank me for everything I’ve done for you? Most teachers would have expelled you for cheating. But I was kind enough to make an exception for you. Don’t you owe me?”
“Yes, s-sir,” Izuku whispered obediently. “Thank you very much, sir, for making an e-exception.”
His teacher pulled back and leered, his beady eyes roaming over Izuku’s small frame greedily.
“Very good, pet. Now, get on your knees and thank me properly. You must make it up to me for keeping you around.”
Izuku complied like the weak, worthless freak he was. Good for nothing. Nothing but this, according to his teacher.
His shaking hands undid the man’s belt, and he tried to shut everything off.
For UA, he reminded himself over and over as it happened. This is nothing. This is for UA.
“—ku. Izuku. Breathe with me.”
Izuku blinked, eye level with a dark scarf. It took a moment for him to recognize it as Aizawa-sensei’s capture weapon. His eyes darted up to his teacher’s face. He was standing close to Izuku, but no longer touching him. Not like before.
Bile rose up his throat, and Izuku knew he was about to throw up all over his teacher. Panicked, he searched the room and spotted a waste bin beside the desk. Stumbling over to it, he barely made it in time.
He vomited his breakfast up violently, leaving him gasping and in tears by the end. The sour taste leftover in his mouth did nothing to help, and he tried to steady himself so he wouldn’t throw up again.
He had a flashback, Izuku realized, horrified. Teachers hated that even more than panic attacks. And then he threw up in his teacher’s office.
On his knees, he looked up at the man with blurry eyes. His teacher stood still and tense, but Izuku didn’t have the courage to focus on his face. He knew Sensei had to be furious.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” he gasped out, frantic now. “Sorry. I-I’ll clean it after, promise. Where do you w-want me? The c-couch?”
It was the only flat surface Izuku could spot, apart from the desk covered in paperwork, but Izuku doubted Sensei would be the type to disrupt his work.
Izuku waited for a tense moment for a command, then flinched when his teacher finally spoke.
“Izuku, I want you to take a few deep breaths. Can you do that for me?”
This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Izuku blinked up at his teacher, confused, but obeyed.
He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore direct orders.
After a few inhales and exhales, Izuku realized he hadn’t really been breathing up until that point. After a minute or two, he could feel his vision clearing, his limbs shaking less.
Sensei was always looking out for him, he realized. Which is why this hurt so much. And he was always concerned about his students’ well-being and if they got injured. Maybe he would be gentle?
Not that it mattered. It never hurt any less, even if the teacher was gentle. Mr. Tanaka had been gentle at times too.
Pretty boy.
“Izuku, can you stand?” Aizawa-sensei spoke up again. “Can you stand and come and sit down again, please?”
Another order. Izuku didn’t know how it would work in a chair, but he complied anyway. Gripping the desk, he rose unsteadily onto his feet. Sensei had backed away, leaving him plenty of room to collapse into the chair.
Sensei remained by the desk and window, not moving closer like Izuku expected.
“Izuku, I’m going to stay over here, alright?”
He kept calling him Izuku. His eyes burned. If only Sensei would call him that outside his office, for a reason besides this.
“I promise I won’t touch you again. Can you tell me what just happened now? What did you expect me to do?”
Was this a test? A logical ruse? What was he supposed to say?
Sensei seemed to sense his rising panic. He raised his hands up in a universal “I-mean-no-harm” gesture.
“Remember, deep breaths in and out, kid. How about I guess and you correct me if I’m wrong.”
Izuku nodded, not 100% sure what he was agreeing to, but at this point it didn’t matter. He would do anything.
Sensei took a deep breath, his dark eyes solemn. “You thought I might expel you from UA because you used to be quirkless until recently.”
Izuku jerked his head yes.
“And then you reached out to—” Sensei stumbled for a moment. “To touch me. Can you tell me why?”
Oh, Izuku realized with a jolt. Sensei didn’t know how this worked. Of course not. The man was a hero after all.
He would just have to explain it then. Even if it killed him to admit it to Aizawa-sensei, he knew the man appreciated logic.
“That’s what I’ve always had to do,” Izuku said, matter-of-factly. “I don’t deserve to be here, and you’re wasting time on me, so I have to make it up to you.”
Sensei was silent for a beat, two, three. Izuku stiffened more with every second that passed without his teacher acting.
It was torture, he decided. Why couldn’t Sensei just get it over with?
Then, finally, Sensei approached.
Izuku’s throat closed tighter and tighter with every step toward him. He shut his eyes and waited for the hands to grab him, to squeeze him, to tear off his clothes, to push him facedown, to—
“Izuku, please look at me.”
His eyes shot open at the gentle words. His teacher knelt in front of his chair, his posture open and non-threatening. Izuku was certain he was imagining the soft, concerned expression.
But this was new. Didn’t Sensei know how this was supposed to go? He was the one who was supposed to kneel.
“Aizawa-sensei?” he whispered.
“Kid, I promise I’m not going to touch you. Or make you touch me in any way. Do you understand?”
Now, Izuku couldn’t help the tears. Sensei didn’t want to touch a dirty, useless piece of trash like him. Of course not. But how else would he get to stay?
“Please, Sensei, p-please,” he gasped out. “I-I s-swear I’ll be g-good. I can m-make it good. Whatever you want, I'll d-do it. Please, I d-don’t want to leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Aizawa-sensei said, voice firm. “I promise, you will not leave UA.”
Izuku froze, wide eyes trained on his teacher in shock.
“R-Really?” he whispered, hardly able to believe it.
Please don’t be lying. Please.
He half-expected his teacher to break into a laugh, to taunt him for believing such an obvious lie. But Sensei stayed perfectly still and said seriously, “I swear on my life and my hero license. You are staying, and you are safe here, Izuku. I will never touch you without your permission, and I’ll never allow anyone to do so again.”
The words were overwhelming. They clanked around Izuku’s head, waiting until something clicked in his brain. Nothing did. Because what Aizawa-sensei was saying was impossible. And the pro hero kept talking.
“At some point, an adult made you feel you were not safe,” Sensei added. “But I promise, you will always be safe with me. Now, I’m worried about your health after all this. Would you be okay with going to see Recovery Girl with me?”
Izuku hesitated, still stuck on his teacher’s words that didn’t make any sense.
“But I’m fine,” he finally landed on. “I’m fine, Sensei.”
Aizawa-sensei’s lips thinned into a line. “You’re not okay, kid. You had at least three panic attacks and vomited, within twenty minutes. You must be dehydrated, at the very least.”
Izuku shrugged, unsure how to tell his teacher that this was nothing new.
“Okay,” he said instead, because Sensei was so nice, and for some reason hadn’t touched him and was letting him stay at UA anyways.
The entire walk to Recovery Girl’s office, Izuku could feel his body shaking. He flinched at every sudden noise and movement as they crossed the campus. He couldn't stop himself, even if it was shameful behavior for a hero student.
Aizawa-sensei stuck close, arm out, ready to grab him if he fell. But he stood just far enough away that Izuku could breathe.
The walk was silent, but Izuku kept sneaking glances at his teacher, trying to get a reading on the situation. He still couldn’t understand what just happened. He replayed the conversation the entire way to Recovery Girl’s.
When they walked through the door, Recovery Girl sent him an exasperated look. “What happened this time?”
Izuku flinched. Always a burden, a nuisance, a screwup who couldn't do anything right even with a quirk now.
“Sit down,” Sensei told him quietly, motioning to an examination table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, alright, problem child?”
Izuku hid the wince at the title and complied. Sensei and Recovery Girl slipped out of sight. A few minutes passed before they came back, and Izuku had worked himself into a panic again.
Maybe Sensei had been lying about not expelling him. Maybe Recovery Girl would refuse to treat him because he kept messing up, and Sensei would realize he didn't belong here. Maybe—
“Midoriya-kun,” Recovery Girl said, voice much gentler than it had been before. “How are you feeling? I understand you have had a trying hour.”
“I’m okay,” he said automatically. “Really, no need to trouble yourself.”
The older hero gave him an unimpressed look. “You said that the last time you were brought in here with a broken bone,” she said. “Would you like to try again?”
Izuku sighed, risking a glance at Sensei. His teacher stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the nearby wall. He raised his eyebrows.
“Um, I guess my head hurts,” Izuku whispered. “And I’m exhausted. And everything’s spinning.”
“Thank you, Midoriya-kun,” Recovery Girl said, a small smile on her face. “Now was that so hard? I’m going to get you some medicine, and then you can take a rest.”
“Rest?” he repeated, glancing between the two adults. “B-But I have more classes, and I was going to train with All Might. I’m so behind, I-I can’t—”
“Midoriya,” Sensei interrupted, in his typical strict, no-nonsense way. “You will be excused for the rest of the day. This is not up for discussion. You deserve a rest, and nothing will happen if you take a break for a bit. Do you understand?”
He was so tired, and none of this was making any sense, but he knew better than to argue with adults. So he took the offered medicine with shaking hands and laid back into the soft, inviting infirmary bed.
He slipped into darkness before he could take his next breath.