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Aizawa was passing out the results of 1-A’s history tests. The class had mostly improved their average scores in comparison to the beginning of the year. Even most of his more… challenged students had achieved at least a 10% improvement.
Now if he could only see such improvements in the behavior of some problem children.
BOOM
If you talk about the devil… With a deep sigh, Aizawa turned toward the window side of the classroom. Bakugou was once again towering over the hunched form of Midoriya, shoving his scored paper in the cowering boy’s face.
“Look at that, Deku, I got 100%. That proves again that I will be the future Number One,” Bakugou snarled loudly.
At first, Aizawa had believed their relationship to be one of a bully and his victim, but over the last year his view had shifted. Despite Bakugou’s projected dislike of Midoriya, the explosive teenager always went to the quirkless one to show off any accomplishment he achieved. And Midoriya would always…
“Wow, Kacchan is so smart, he’ll surely be a great hero.”
“What did you say, you quirkless loser? I will not be a great hero—I will be the greatest there ever was.”
Another thing that had at first worried Aizawa: the comments about Midoriya’s quirk status. Even after their ethics course, Bakugou continued with the name-calling. On the other hand, Bakugou didn’t seem to overstep any of Midoriya’s boundaries, and Aizawa would make sure he would be punished the second Midoriya expressed distress.
To be honest, Bakugou even defended Midoriya against classmates and other kids, mostly by pointing out that a quirkless freak was better in almost every class than most of the others. But a win was a win.
“Izuku.”
And there was the second one.
“Also a 100%. I’m so proud of you, Shōto. You did so great.”
Shortly after the sports festival, Todoroki had entered the orbit of Izuku Midoriya. From one day to the next, the unsocialized teenager had always been around Midoriya. Unfortunately, Todoroki seemed to take Bakugou and Midoriya’s relationship as the norm and began to copy parts of it—to the great irritation of Aizawa because…
BOOM
“Who do you think you are, Half-and-Half bastard? I’m the best—don’t you dare. DIE!”
Sighing, Aizawa moved toward the boys, quirk activated and mentally tired.
“Now that we have that permission, the next on the list is the Bakugou family.”
“Ah, I am excited to learn who raised such an inspiring young hero.”
Aizawa and Toshinori were currently moving from one student’s home to another to inform them of the new dorm system.
Aizawa hoped he could convince all of the parents to accept UA’s transition to a boarding school. Regardless of how uninterested he acted toward his students, he deeply cared for their safety.
But the meetings were not only about the dorms—they were also a chance for Aizawa to get to know the parents of his students. He had some concerns regarding certain households. The Bakugou family was, unfortunately, one of them.
He wasn’t blind; he saw the signs. Bakugou had both an inferior and a superior complex. Listening to some exchanges between Bakugou and Midoriya made him believe that he should soon investigate their old school. But he had seen enough similar cases, both as a teacher and as a hero, to know that such behavior was often rooted in the home.
“Hm, I didn’t know that young Bakugou and young Todoroki were living together.”
Aizawa’s head snapped around so fast it made an audible crack.
“What?” Surely he had misheard that.
“Ah, yes. Young Todoroki is listed at the same address. I wasn’t aware they were good enough friends to live together.”
Because they weren’t. There was quite a bit of animosity between them. Bakugou’s shouting and aggression were on par with what he directed at Midoriya, but what surprised Aizawa most was that Todoroki sometimes answered with dry, cutting remarks—a sight very uncommon for the unsocialized teenager.
With any other pair of teenagers, Aizawa might have suspected at least a little sexual tension, but this pair was so averse to each other that even Nemuri didn’t ship them.
But how had they ended up in the same house? Was it a simple error in their documents? Unlikely, with Nezu as the one controlling all information in school.
“I mostly wonder why Endeavor suddenly decided to house Bakugou.”
“It is indeed most unusual.”
Most top heroes knew of Endeavor’s more than questionable plans for his legacy through his children. Sadly, with the HPSC backing him, they were unable to help the family without being blocked by legal and illegal means. Aizawa was glad to be Shoto Todoroki’s homeroom teacher, as he could at least offer a bit more support than most.
Looking up, he saw an apartment building, with plants and self-made decorations hanging from balconies and windows, giving it a homely feeling.
They walked past colorful doors until they arrived in front of a green door with orange, red, and white accents.
“Interesting… design.”
And Aizawa had to agree with that.
After knocking, they heard a crash followed by muffled shouting from beyond the door. It creaked open, and a bicolored head looked up at them.
“Yes?”
“Young Todoroki, WE ARE HERE… to talk to your dad,” boomed Toshinori.
“Okay.” Todoroki blinked back at them.
After a tense moment in which Aizawa and Toshinori waited for an invitation inside while Todoroki seemed perfectly content staring at them emotionlessly, Aizawa’s patience broke.
“Can we come in?”
“Sure.” Todoroki shrugged and opened the door wider.
Inside, the apartment opened into a wide room with five doors leading away from it. The interior design was… interesting, if Aizawa could say so himself.
One side looked fairly normal for a group of boys: a couple of beanbags and two couches surrounding a table on three sides, with a giant screen towering over it. A collection of different gaming consoles and DVDs lay scattered around.
Beside that stood a large table filled with a worrying amount of first-aid supplies, and—was that part of Bakugou’s grenade gauntlet? Aizawa made a mental note. Students were forbidden from taking their hero costumes home unless they had an internship. Lastly, countless notebooks filled the remaining space.
He directed his eyes toward the last wall only to immediately look away in shock. Half a dozen mobile corkboards stood there, covered in pictures and red yarn. On the board closest to him was a picture of himself in his Eraser Head costume. Thick red threads connected it, strangely enough, to Yamada and one of the Gen Ed kids.
“Right…” he murmured to himself.
Todoroki led them to the couches, where they sat down. He seemed to think for a moment.
“Dad,” his lips twitched for a split second, “is at the grocery store but will be back soon. Can you tell me why you are here?”
“I would prefer to wait until he gets back. I don’t want to repeat myself. You can get Bakugou too, if possible. Our files say he lives here,” Aizawa replied.
Todoroki stood up and walked to one of the doors, knocking lightly against it. When no answer came, he knocked harder, nearly pounding on it. A thump echoed from beyond the door, followed by heavy footsteps marching toward them. The door swung open, revealing an angry blonde.
“WHAT, ICY HOT?”
Todoroki pointed toward them.
“What are the hobo and Assmight doing here?”
Another thing: while Bakugou gave everybody derogatory nicknames, he seemed to hate Toshinori exceptionally. But Toshinori was an adult, so that wasn’t Aizawa’s problem. Not that he secretly enjoyed it.
“They want to talk to… Dad.”
Bakugou immediately gagged. “You are disgusting. Never call that loser ‘Dad’ again, or I’ll destroy your corkboards.”
He looked over at them and squinted. “You didn’t even give them any fucking tea or something to eat, you useless bastard.”
He stomped through another door—probably the kitchen—leaving them alone with Todoroki, who sat stiffly on the other couch, staring at them. Toshinori shifted nervously beside him, but Aizawa used the time to rest a little, at least until Bakugou kicked open the kitchen door with a tray of tea in his hands and slammed it down in front of them.
He threw himself onto the couch, leaving space between himself and Todoroki, and slurped obnoxiously on his tea.
The next few minutes were deeply uncomfortable—or they would have been, if Aizawa had cared about the atmosphere.
Finally, he heard a key turning in the front door.
“I’m back, sorry for being late. There was a fight by the subway station. I got the chance to see this new hero, Fly. His fluctuating flying style reminds me of Kacchan. I wonder if their—”
An awfully familiar voice grew quieter and quieter.
Already feeling a headache coming on, Aizawa slowly lifted his gaze, seeing Bakugou’s self-satisfied smile before turning toward the front door, where a familiar mop of green hair moved through the apartment, half-hidden behind shopping bags.
“—and if he would just cut those unnecessary decorative elements, his loudness would decrease by about thirteen percent, making him more capable in stealth missions…”
“YOUNG MIDORIYA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
The green head shot up before slowly turning around, revealing a pale, familiar student.
“A-all Might? Eeraserhead? W-what are you d-doing here?”
“That’s what we should ask you,” deadpanned Aizawa.
“I’m living here?” That sounded more like a question. Midoriya collected himself. “Now I see K-kacchan already gave you t-tea. Can I get you anything else?”
“Shut up, Deku. They got what they deserved. Now sit down.” Bakugou’s lips stretched into a grin. “They want to talk to our dad.”
Midoriya instantly scowled. “Eugh, really, Kacchan?”
Under the baffled gazes of both teachers, he walked toward the couch and slid into the free space between the two boys. Grabbing a cup of tea, he looked at them expectantly.
“YOUNG MIDORIYA, YOU CAN’T— ahem—we… WE NEED TO TALK TO YOUNG TODOROKI’S AND YOUNG BAKUGOU’S GUARDIAN. WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE US FOR A MINUTE? THEIR DAD SHOULD BE BACK SOON.”
Midoriya grimaced at the last sentence but merely raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. Well, that’s me.”
“Pardon?”
“I have full legal custody over both Bakugou Katsuki and Shōto Todoroki.” He sipped his tea.
Cotton filled Aizawa’s head as his brain tried to restart.
A buzzing noise rang through his ears while Toshinori’s spluttering and coughing nearly faded into the background.
“Young Midoriya, you can’t… you can’t be their guardian.”
“And yet I have the documents to prove it.”
Bakugou nearly fell off the couch laughing, while Todoroki showed a rare smile. Midoriya himself looked as serene as a Buddha statue while sipping from his cup.
“MIDORIYA, YOU ARE—”
“You can’t have custody. You’re a kid!” Aizawa’s usually calm mask broke. It couldn’t be that one of his students had to bear the burden of taking care of two others.
“I’m an adult. Been one for a few years now.”
Bakugou was outright roaring with laughter now.
“But you’re fifteen. You can’t be an adult.”
“What I am is primarily quirkless.”
Instantly, the mood between the boys shifted. Todoroki was no longer smiling, Bakugou had returned to his angry self, and Midoriya was smiling bitterly. Aizawa felt emotional whiplash. He felt like he was missing something.
“How is that connected?”
“Quirkless people get legally declared adults at thirteen instead of eighteen. Officially, it’s because quirkless people don’t need to learn or understand their quirks and are therefore ready for life earlier. But realistically…” Toshinori flinched so hard at those words Aizawa felt the couch move beneath him. “It’s just an excuse for families to dump their quirkless kids onto the streets.”
Aizawa wanted to rub his temples. The story was too cruel to be a lie. He knew the statistics about quirkless teenagers on the streets, but he hadn’t known it all stemmed from an incredibly bigoted law.
“And how did this happen?” he asked, waving vaguely toward the boys.
“Deku and I had this planned for years. Wasn’t that hard for him to get custody of me.”
“While I love Kacchan’s parents, they’re both workaholics and weren’t fit to raise Kacchan. Plus, he and his mom share a temper, which made conflicts quite loud, if I can say so.” Midoriya chuckled nervously.
That explained a lot.
“And you?” he asked Todoroki.
“I woke up the weekend after the Sports Festival to Izuku standing in my doorway and telling me to pack because I would be living with him from then on.” The teen shrugged.
“How?” He was so tired. Why had he even decided to wake up this morning?
“I had compelling arguments that Endeavor couldn’t turn down.”
Aizawa needed a moment to process that statement, and when he realized what Midoriya meant, he lowered his head into his hands.
The loud shouting beside him told him he wasn’t the only one.
“YOU ARE BLACKMAILING ENDEAVOR? THAT IS VERY UNHEROIC, YOUNG MIDORIYA!”
“I couldn’t blackmail him if he didn’t have something worth blackmailing.” Midoriya crossed his arms defiantly.
“I CAN’T ALLOW—”
Aizawa raised a hand to silence Toshinori. He turned toward the boys. “I will arrange for you to be placed as wards under UA—”
“Mr. Aizawa, I don’t think—”
“THE FUCKING HELL YOU WILL.”
CLANK
A teacup slammed onto the table with enough force to send spiderweb cracks through it. At the sight before him, Aizawa nearly activated his quirk, even knowing it would be pointless.
Those were the eyes of the one who had sliced off Shigaraki’s fingers after he kidnapped Bakugou. The one who had throat-punched Monoma after he insulted Todoroki…
He could see the pattern now.
Those eyes, filled with steel, were directed at him now. Fingers he had seen break through Kirishima’s quirk flexed slowly.
“I spend hours every weekend working on top of my schoolwork to give my boys the life they deserve. I spend hours cooling their foreheads when they’re so sick and feverish they don’t even recognize me. I feed, clothe, and take care of their mental and physical health. If you think you can just waltz in here and take them away, then I want you to know I have enough blackmail to deal a heavy blow not only to UA’s reputation but to the people’s belief in heroes as a whole.”
His voice wasn’t loud or aggressive. It was calm—dangerously calm, like a shard of glass wrapped in velvet. It sent a chill down Aizawa’s spine, but he had faced mafia bosses and supervillains before. He would not be intimidated by one of his students.
Placatingly, he raised his hands.
“Nobody wants to take them away. I merely wanted to test how much you cared for them. It was a tactical ruse. It would have been illogical for me to separate you simply because you are young.”
Wide, confused eyes stared at him. Aizawa could practically see the gears turning as understanding fought against anger and confusion. With a huff, the teen threw himself back onto the couch, arms crossed.
“AIZAWA, YOU CAN’T ALLOW THIS! IT WOULD BE IRRESPONSIBLE TO LET THIS CONTINUE!”
“Irresponsible how? It seems like Midoriya has everything under control. I see fresh food,” he gestured toward the grocery bags Midoriya had brought in, “they are clothed, healthy, and all at the top of their classes. So I see no disadvantage in allowing Midoriya’s guardianship to continue.”
The room sank into an uncomfortable silence. Aizawa was prepared to wait until the students had collected their thoughts. After a little while, Midoriya sat up.
“Now, why are you here?”
Returning to the familiar direction of the conversation, Aizawa began the speech he had repeated many times over the last two days.
“Through the events that have happened over the last few weeks,” he said, pretending not to notice either the flinch of a certain ash-blond or the calming hand that settled on his knee, “UA will transition into a boarding school. We strive to give our students the safest environment possible now that they are under the attention of the League of Villains.”
After finishing his short speech, he looked up at Midoriya. The teen looked expectantly back, as though waiting for something more. After a moment, he leaned back with a slightly disappointed expression.
“I think we have to decline that. I don’t think it is necessary for our safety to move to UA.”
“That is good, if you—” Aizawa paused. “What?”
Had he heard that correctly? No parent had simply refused yet.
“Why…? I mean, what exactly are you against?” He had prepared himself to soothe worried parents or, in the worst case, parents who wanted to withdraw their children from UA entirely. He had not expected anyone to simply say no.
“Shōto and Kacchan are the two strongest students in our year. If something happened on our way to school, we could hold out until the real heroes arrived.”
“HÄH, NERD? You’re at least as strong as Peppermint Boy. Don’t talk yourself down, it’s embarrassing.”
“I must agree. You are certainly the strongest among us.”
“Oh, n-no. I’m n-not t-that strong. P-please, K-Kacchan, don’t do that.”
“ARE YOU CALLING ME WEAK? I’LL TEACH YOU TO LOOK DOWN ON ME!”
Before the situation could escalate into one Aizawa was painfully familiar with from class, he activated his quirk, extinguishing the first sparks before they could fly.
“Ahem.”
One angry, one calm, and one guilty pair of eyes turned back toward him.
“Maybe back to the topic? We suspect that the League would not be above breaking in here to kidnap you—or even torching the entire building to harm you.”
Before he could continue, Midoriya interrupted him again.
“Oh, no, that won’t be a problem. I don’t know if you noticed, but this is a gated community. The only reason you weren’t stopped is because you’re pro heroes. Mostly families of pro heroes and other public figures live here. There are two spotlight agencies located nearby. One of them employs the Wet Guardian Hero, Razortooth. He has a shark mutation and can sense electromagnetic fields. He usually uses it to scout abandoned properties for underground activity that might indicate hidden villain lairs, but I theorized that he should also be able to sense the disruption Kurogiri’s portals create if the League ever tried to portal in here. I wonder if the other side of the portal can influence and blend into ours or if there’s an isolating layer between them. That would mean he isn’t creating Einstein-Rosen bridges but instead—”
A tiny explosion interrupted the absolute torrent of words threatening to bury Aizawa.
“But all those protections, and more, are implemented at UA. You would even save on utilities and have a shorter commute. What exactly is speaking against it?” He genuinely didn’t understand. It wasn’t even like the other families, where students would be separated from their parents. These three would still be together.
“The isolation, of course.”
“What… what isolation?”
Midoriya gave them a look that was almost condescending—or at least as close to condescending as the normally kind boy could manage.
“Kacchan’s and Shōto’s already heavy workloads, combined with their public images after the Sports Festival and Kacchan’s kidnapping, make it difficult for them to form friendships and hobbies outside of UA. I will not risk their entire social circles and free time being consumed by UA,” the green-haired teen declared fiercely. “I understand the need for safety, but it won’t help them to be locked away in a glorified vault to—”
A heavy cough sounded beside him.
All eyes turned toward All Might, who was not only coughing up blood but had gone deathly pale.
“Are you finally dying?”
“K-KACCHAN! You c-can’t say that out l-loud!”
“Cough, cough! I must ask to be excused. I was remembering a bad memory.”
Collecting his thoughts, Aizawa turned back, trying to ignore the rattling breaths beside him. He would later snitch to Recovery Girl, but for now that wasn’t his problem.
“You still have holidays and extended weekends to see your friends. Are you sure that isn’t enough? Many students your age deal with similar distances from their friend groups.”
Midoriya merely snorted.
“Oh, I don’t mean that. Neither of them has any friends outside of UA.”
“True.”
“YOU’RE ONE TO TALK, YOU FUCKING LOSER!”
“What I meant,” Midoriya continued without missing a beat, “were their hobbies. They need ways to socialize and decompress from all the hero stuff.”
That made Aizawa sit up straighter. What hobbies could these three possibly have?
For the rest of the class, it was easy to identify what they did outside of school. But these three had, for lack of a better term, very little visible personality—or at least they never displayed their interests openly.
“Can I ask what you do? Maybe we can find accommodations—or at least a compromise.”
Like a flashbang, pure light seemed to radiate from Midoriya. His smile ignited like a miniature sun.
Beside him, Bakugou began paling rapidly.
With a flick of Midoriya’s hand, a bundle of photographs materialized on the table. They depicted both of his wards, clearly taken from security cameras—or through vents and windows.
Bewildered, Aizawa looked up only to be met with a proud smile.
“Kacchan has finally decided to pursue his cooking skills more seriously. I enrolled him in a course twice a week where he learns recipes and explores new cooking techniques. Last week he brought home the tastiest cheese spaetzle you can imagine. I was so proud of him.”
And Aizawa could see that, judging by the tears streaming down Midoriya’s face.
Beside the crying teen, Bakugou had buried his face in his hands, the tips of his ears suspiciously red.
“And of course Shōto and his group.”
Midoriya’s smile dimmed slightly.
Another bundle of photographs appeared. They showed groups of people standing in warehouses, clearly arguing while pointing toward the same corkboards currently sitting nearby.
And were those—
“Are those the villains Snowden and Datastream?”
Before he could blink, half the photographs vanished.
He looked up into wide, innocent green eyes.
“I-I have n-no idea what y-you mean. T-those are just—”
“Under the Eye of Truth, all are equal. There exist neither villains, vigilantes, nor—”
A hand slapped over Todoroki’s mouth, muffling him.
“PLEASE IGNORE HIM!”
Midoriya was red-faced now, his eyes darting around wildly.
“I… ahem… will speak to him about which friends are appropriate.”
Aizawa groaned and closed his eyes, a reaction mirrored by Toshinori beside him.
Both knew exactly which group Todoroki had managed to befriend.
The Eye of Truth was an organization nearly as old as the first vigilantes themselves, dedicated to uncovering the secrets of heroes and villains alike. Any other group would have been shut down by the HPSC for stalking and espionage, but the Eye of Truth was, for lack of a better word, so spectacularly incompetent that nobody bothered.
Instead of exposing heroes or analyzing quirks, they focused on increasingly bizarre conspiracy theories.
A shudder ran through Aizawa as he remembered the last time he had been targeted by them.
He absolutely did not use his capture weapon that way.
At least he was an underground hero.
He glanced at Toshinori with pity. Being the Number One Hero was not always sunshine and smiles.
He gave Midoriya a brief nod to show he understood.
Then he remembered what they had originally been discussing.
“Okay.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off another headache. “A compromise. What if Ectoplasm would…”
Finally, Aizawa stepped out of the building. After this school year, he swore to himself, he would retire from teaching and go back to fighting villains full-time. That would be far less stressful.
“THAT WAS… interesting.”
“You can say that again.”
Rarely was he of the same opinion as Toshinori. That alone proved the situation was worse than he had thought.
“AT LEAST WE HAVE THEIR CONSENT. NOW THE NEXT ON THE LIST IS THE SATO HOUSEHOLD—”
With a raised hand, Aizawa interrupted him.
“Tomorrow. We do that tomorrow.”
“BUT WE AREN’T FINISHED WITH TODAY’S QUOTA!”
“I do not care. If you want to continue alone today, then be my guest. I am going home now, taking a nap, and then going to yell at a certain rat who one hundred percent knew what was going on.”
“Oh my… that was h-horrible. T-they will surely think I’m a h-horrible guardian and t-take you away from m-me. M-maybe we s-should pack and e-emigrate to Europe. I think Yūga’s family is from there. Maybe he can help us to—”
BOOM
“SHUT UP, DEKU! YOU TOTALLY IMPRESSED THE HOBO. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.”
“Oh, th-th-thank you, Kacchan.”
Tears began to fall as Midoriya tried to hug Bakugou, only for the explosive teen to shove a hand into Midoriya’s face in a desperate attempt to keep some distance between himself and the sobbing green-haired boy.
“Yes, you were totally savage.”
Both of them froze and turned in perfect synchronization toward the third person in the room.
“Shōto…” Midoriya said slowly. “I will raise your allowance if you never use slang again. I swear it.”