Chapter Text
With the raid over and Eri settling in with her new foster parent, time seemed to come to a sluggish stop. With One for All thrumming through Izuku’s veins, the adrenaline seems nonstop, geared for a fight that ended weeks prior yet still snatching sleep like a carnivore. With the weekend ending and the school week looming overhead, the return to class feels as if all the normal joy and excitement was sucked out. A feeling that has been absent since middle school.
A shudder ran up his spine at the thought, causing the green-haired boy to sit up in bed and rub the dwindling tiredness from his eyes, as if there ever was any. The clock on the nightstand shined with the time, 4:13am, early but late enough to start his morning run. Kicking sweat lined sheets away Izuku made to stand, all while stretching, pops sounding off in the room like gun fire. Gunfire. Mirio. Those bullets. POP, POP, POP, goodbye quirk!
Middle school. Aldera Junior High. More like hell. While not being the most funded or even that high on the academic charts, the place was always clean. Unsettlingly so, as if having clean grout and dusted corners could hide the decaying corpses in the closets. Hidden secrets shoved away into holes, guess what they say is true, ignorance is bliss. Or at the very least ignorance for outsiders, even the students knew of the closets with locks only assessable from the outside, the lone desk in corners of the room for the unwanted or the useless, the reinforced metal rulers in desk drawers for those students who misbehave, and even the quirk restraint cuffs. Despite it all, word does not leave the walls of Aldera, as if the walls are sentient and listening and have eyes that follow children home. Yet time passes without interference because parents will not ask questions if there is nothing to warrant questioning.
The sudden light flashing across his face brought him to a standstill. The entrance to Gamma Field loomed ahead, the doors tall and gleaming as the sun hit the smooth metal. Unexpectant sweat dripped down Izuku’s face and into his eyes causing him to jerk back into reality.
Lost in his own thoughts he somehow dressed and made it across campus and by the amount of sweat and the ache in his legs, it was not by walking. After the realization that an hour passed so unnoticed, the hero in training turned back towards the dorms and set to complete his run and this time with his head on straight and focus rearranged.
By the time Izuku reached the village of Heights Alliance, it was nearing 6:00am. Slowing to a walk, he began his way up the courtyard towards Class 1A’s dorms, only to freeze. There sitting on the front steps drinking from a water bottle, was Katsuki. He must have just gotten back from his run because his black top stuck to his chest as if drenched causing the skull to become deformed, but his chest rose and fell quickly, causing his breathing to become heavy and deep. Red eyes met green, the air around them becoming thick and warm, the sudden need to shorten the distance hammered away inside of both of their chests.
“Kaachan…” Izuku started, trying to find a way to pry, because if going by the amount of sweat on his body, Katsuki must have been up long before even he was. “Have you eaten?”
It was silent, moments like these empty of noise except for their mutual presence. Then as if ignoring the earlier question, Katsuki shot back, “What the hell are you looking at you damn nerd?” He stood up, looking down his nose at the shorter male while a smirk slid up his lips when green eyes tracked his shirt.
Huh, guess drenched was not the right work, more like glued. The tank fought gravity harder than Uraraka, still bunched up above his belly button from when he was sitting, revealing tanned skin and hardened muscle. Before either of them could continue, the entrance door opened and Kirishima bounded out.
“Hey Bakubro, you ready-… oh, hey Mido!”
The words died in his throat and he pushed a grin onto his face, but before Izuku could even process a response, Katsuki jumped in, “Take a damn shower nerd, you smell like shit.” The angry blonde turned and dragged Kirishima back inside, leaving Izuku floundering on the steps. ‘Guess that conversation is over’, Izuku muttered.
Shuffling inside he moved towards the showers to get ready for class, the comforting sound of fellow classmates and friends getting ready themselves soothed the lasting aches, a sense of calm settling on his shoulders.
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After everything that has happened the past few weeks, the halls seemed normal. Scattered students hovering outside classrooms chatting with friends about classes, crushes, and other miscellaneous things.
As if the world had not gotten flipped upside down. As if a great man did not lose their life. As if someone so young lost their chance at herohood.
All thanks to greed.
The knowledge that there was evil in the world is not new but knowing how hauntingly plain they look was nerve racking. Knowing that you could pass someone who has done such horrific deeds so easily, really dimmed one’s view on life.
Hesitating outside the door to the teacher’s lounge, Izuku could hear the voices of the teachers inside. Laughter from Present Mic-Sensei that echoed off the walls with the telltale sign of Erasure as his voice rose and fell in octaves, the gruff sound of Aizawa-Sensei trying to quiet him down when the glare failed to succeed, and the various conversations that overlapped one another.
All went silent when his knuckles graced the door, “Enter!”
Pushing the heavy door aside, Izuku made his way in and instantly ducked his head when multiple eyes landed on him.
“Hiya, little listener! What can we do for you?” Mic-Sensei chirped. The crowd of teachers seem to dissipate at the youngest’s clear nerves, leaving Aizawa and Mic-Sensei near the couches in clear view. Yanking the bright yellow bag higher up his shoulder, he glanced around noticing the lack of a certain lanky blonde.
“Has All Might not arrived yet?” Izuku wondered, leaning his head around the leatherbound hero to try and get a view of All Might’s desk. Empty. Maybe late?
The air suddenly became thick, causing his stomach to give out underneath him. Somethings wrong, so very wrong. Glancing around at the tense forms of the Pro-Heroes who suddenly seemed…uncomfortable? ‘No, that’s ire, I can spot anger on a teacher’s face a kilometer away.’ Izuku thought.
The urge to run gripped scarred shoulders, teeth clenched, eyes wide and watching, waiting for that hair-trigger to be tripped at a moment notice so that he could flee. Mic-Sensei seemed frozen, his eyes fighting to sharpen and soften at the same time.
“Oh, kiddo.” The soft tone only set Izuku on edge even more, something that was clearly not hidden well enough given that Mic let his shoulders slump, but Aizawa spoke up first.
“All Might didn’t tell you.” Not a question, just a simple observation. ‘Tell me what? What happened? Where’s All Might, is he injured?’’ His eyes casted down at his worn red shoes, thoughts rampaging through his head as he struggled to piece together what little information that was given.
His situational awareness seemed to be obsolete, because he gave a full body flinch at the unexpected contact on his shoulder. ‘Too close, too close, not safe.’ The hero lurched back as if he was struck, he looked horrified. Don’t know why though, he has yet to do anything wrong.
“W-what do you mean?” Of course, the studder that he had worked so hard to get rid of has returned. They all seemed to look at each other, as if pawning the question to the others.
Grunting, Aizawa stood from the couch while shedding his sleeping bag, the yellow bright and clean despite the amount of time spent being dragged on the ground. “All Might went on a sabbatical shortly after Mirai Sasaki’s wake. I was under the impression that he spoke to you, but it appears that was incorrect.”
Never one to beat around the bush, huh. The bluntness was a relief, Aizawa never lies, sure he has his logical ruses and games, but he never lies. He doesn’t believe in sugarcoating things.
The air shot from his lungs as his words finally digested. ‘All Might left? Sir Nighteyes’s wake was over a week ago! I saw him there, why did he not say anything?’’
That pit in his stomach seemed to expand, clawing up his throat until the air thinned and his head became light. The brief thought of if Recovery Girl would care that he did not injure himself on purpose this time, flashed through his head as blackspots spawned around his vision. Conversation started up again, blurring together as the voices began to argue and grow louder in volume.
“Listener, I need you to breathe with me, okay? In,1-2-3-4 and out, 1-2-3-4. Good, now repeat…” Mic spoke softly, kneeled in front of Izuku, but he didn’t attempt to reach out and touch, which was appreciated and unexpected. Teachers do not normally care about personal space.
Once the air returned to his lungs, Izuku glanced up at the English speaker who seemed concerned, his brows pinched, and lips pressed against one another until they were white. “When’s he coming back?” the question asked, breathless and quiet. Moments past causing Izuku to wonder if he even spoke or was at all heard.
“We don’t know, his classes will be covered by other pro-teachers. But I’m sure he would love to have you contact-…” His words faded, ears popping at the information. He left. Gone without even a letter or a simple goodbye. Unfamiliar anger coiled in his chest, but it was quickly consumed by the exhaustion.
Turning sharply on his heel, sneakers squeaking at overuse, he simply reached for the door while confused and worried calls of his name fought to reach through the haze around his mind. Simply caught up in his head and protected by his halo of green curls, Izuku moved down the hall, floating further and further away from that desk that is empty.
He left. Bitterness clawed up his throat, burning like slime, but the only thing to come from it was tears that gathered, threatening to fall.
He left.