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“Midoriya.”
The green-haired boy jolts in his seat, jerking bolt upright, before freezing in place. All the blood drains from his face, and in a second he’s deathly pale. If it weren’t for the contrast of his hair, Shoto would almost say he’d gone a little green.
This is… really not a normal reaction to being called out for misbehaving in class. It’s not like Aizawa ever really rips into them that badly; sure, he’s a little blunt at times, and he might claim he’s gonna expel them every other day, but it’s also pretty obvious that by now, half a year in, he would’ve already done it if he was really going to.
So why the hell else should Midoriya be so afraid? His reaction is way, way out of proportion with how much trouble he’s in. Aizawa is harsh, sure, but not that harsh.
Shoto leans forward in his seat, watching intently. The rest of the class are watching, too - there really isn’t anywhere else to look, when Aizawa has someone on the spot like this, it’s like watching a slow-motion train wreck - but the rest of them seem more focussed on what Aizawa is going to do, than how Midoriya is reacting. Nobody else has noticed just how horrified - no, terrified Midoriya looks, right now.
Looking back, actually, Shoto can’t remember a time he’s seen Midoriya this afraid. Maybe once - back during their very first lesson, when there’d been a real expectation of expulsion - but then, now that he thinks about it, Shoto also can’t remember a time when Midoriya has genuinely been in trouble for something, like he is now.
Aizawa sighs.
“Detention. Thirty minutes. Stay behind after class.”
Midoriya doesn’t even acknowledge it, still sat frozen like a deer in the headlights.
Why should he be so frightened? This is Deku. He’s fearless. Frighteningly fearless. Shoto’s seen him face down villains with literally tens of kills on their roster, without batting an eyelid. This is the kid that ran straight at Stain - a damn serial killer - even after the guy had already rendered him useless once, not minutes before. ‘Coward’ isn’t in Midoriya’s dictionary.
So why is he so afraid?
Shoto thinks about what he knows of his friend’s background. He has family, for sure; he talks about his mother sometimes. She sounds nice enough, though, from what he’s heard, so it seems unlikely that Midoriya is afraid of her reaction to him getting detention. And she baked cookies for the class once. That doesn’t sound like someone who could be treating Midoriya badly, for a minor misdemeanor like this. And as far as Shoto is aware, he doesn’t have any siblings, or a father -
Shoto blinks.
Does Midoriya have a dad? Doesn’t he? Is his dad actually absent, working away, in jail, dead? Or does he perhaps have one that is entirely present, and just chooses not to talk about him? Sure, Shoto had been pushing his “All Might is his father” theory for a few months, at the start, but Midoriya had pretty vehemently denied it, and as the evidence dried up, the theory had eventually sort of fizzled out.
The only thing is, Midoriya had never offered an alternative. Is that why he is so afraid, maybe? Does he actually have a dad back home, someone like Endeavour, who will be angry with him for getting a detention? And… hell, is that why he was so determined to free Shoto of his own issues with his dad? Did he make it personal because it felt personal to him? Because he has someone like that, too, ready to rip into him for a minor screw-up like this?
“...It was me.”
Shoto’s voice rings out through the classroom, barely seconds after Aizawa has finished speaking. Before he’s even had time to process the words, or realise what he’s saying, himself.
Aizawa raises an incredulous eyebrow, his attention snapping to Shoto.
“It was you, Todoroki?”
“It was me. I did it. Not Midoriya.”
At that, Midoriya finally moves, his head whipping around, jaw dropping open and his eyes dinner-plate wide as he stares, bewildered, at Shoto. Shoto gives him a silent, very pointed, very quick glare back - don’t say a word, idiot - and then stares back at Aizawa, face resolutely blank again.
Aizawa frowns, staring right back at Shoto with just as much force. For a few tense moments, he’s quite sure that Aizawa is going to call him out on his blatant covering for Midoriya, but instead Aizawa just sighs heavily again, and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes slipping closed.
“...Fine. Todoroki. Detention, thirty minutes, you know the drill. Midoriya, you’re off the hook. Any more interruptions, you will all have two hours detention after class for the rest of the week.”
There’s a unanimous “Yes, sir!”, and Aizawa turns back to the board, picking up wherever the lecture left off.
The rest of the afternoon absolutely crawls, and whilst Shoto is not particularly looking forward to detention, he isn’t exactly dreading it, either; what he’s significantly more anxious about is Midoriya’s wellbeing. Or, rather, lack of it.
His friend is distracted throughout class - even more than before he was called out, earlier - and his foot taps mercilessly against the floor. He nearly drops his pen seven times (Shoto is counting) by the end of the lesson, and his gaze keeps drifting away from Aizawa, and toward the floor instead. It’s… well, not exactly non-Midoriya behaviour, but it’s not his everyday normal-Midoriya behaviour, either. Shoto recognises it as how he gets when he’s especially stressed, like when they have an exam coming up.
So there’s still something bothering him. And that, in turn, bothers Shoto. Frustratingly, though, he isn’t going to have a chance to corner Midoriya for any answers tonight, now that his evening is going to be spent here instead.
Class finally ends, and Shoto remains at his desk, neatening up his notebook, and tidying his pens into a nice line next to it, while the rest of the class pack their things away around him. He’s nearly lost track of Midoriya, in the brief hubbub as everyone leaves - the last he saw of him, he was fumbling with his All Might pencil case, cramming it into his bright yellow backpack - when suddenly the boy appears, through the crowd, pausing at Todoroki’s desk.
“U-um, Todoroki.”
Shoto pauses, looking up at him.
“Hi, Midoriya. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”
He tilts his head, staring Midoriya out. God, it would sure help if the boy suddenly developed a mind-reading quirk. He wants to tell him to hurry up and go, before he gives the game away, but Midoriya can be as dense as a block of wood sometimes, and Shoto really doesn’t want Aizawa to overhear him saying that out loud.
Luckily, Midoriya seems to at least have some modicum of self preservation:
“Thanks… I’ll, uh, I was gonna say, I’ll wait for you.” His gaze drops, and he scratches at the back of his head nervously. “I’ll be outside.”
“Just go home. You don’t need to wait.”
Midoriya pauses there a little longer, before nodding very quickly, and turning for the door without saying another word. He’s just fast enough to join the tail end of the crowd. Aizawa is distracted, organising a folder of worksheets or something at the front of the class, so Shoto hopes he maybe didn’t notice Midoriya splitting off to speak to him, there.
...Then again. This is Aizawa. The chances that he doesn’t know exactly what just happened are slim to -
“Todoroki. Sit up front.”
Ah.
Shoto does as asked, picking up his things and settling into a desk near the front of the class. He waits patiently, blankly, to be told what his detention is going to entail. Aizawa is silent for a while, just staring at him through narrowed eyes, as if trying to pick him apart.
“Would you like to explain to me why you are covering for Midoriya?”
Busted.
Shoto drops his gaze away from the harsh stare, picking at his pencil case, shifting the zip back and forth.
“...With all due respect, sir, I would not.”
He was raised honest. He can say that much.
Aizawa huffs, at his reply, and if it weren’t for the glare accompanying it, Shoto would almost be tempted to call it a laugh.
“But you’re going to anyway.”
“I believe I am,” Shoto agrees, readily. “I don’t think I have a choice, do I?”
Whilst he knows Aizawa won’t expel him, that doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t make his life a misery. He does, of course, have a reputation to maintain, and even if class 1A knows that that reputation is not entirely accurate, it wouldn’t hurt to make an example of a student or two, sometimes. Shoto would rather not be that example. Oh well. At least Midoriya has gone home, at this point: it’s not like Aizawa can put him on the spot again, like that.
Aizawa tilts his head, leaning forward on his own desk, resting on one elbow.
“Why, then?”
Shoto’s hands still, pausing with the zip half-done up on his pencil case, as he tries to think how best to answer. Truth be told, he doesn’t quite know the answer to that, himself. He hadn't really thought it through; it was as much a shock to himself as to the rest of the class, when he'd opened his mouth and started talking. He'd moved without thinking.
“...Well.” He begins, starting with the simplest answer. “He was scared.”
Aizawa blinks at him, slowly.
“Yes, I gathered that. I don’t particularly see why that should mean he doesn’t have to face the consequences of his actions.”
Something about that… it just isn’t right to Shoto. He doesn’t get angry all that often these days, but - but... something about those words just infuriates him.
“You don’t get it - he was scared. I don’t mean nervous, I mean scared. Terrified.” Shoto has to remind himself not to raise his voice - he’s already in detention, for Christ’s sake, the whole point of saying anything right now was to try and not make that any worse. He clamps his mouth shut after his outburst, determined to stay reasonably cool and collected for the rest of his time-out.
Aizawa sits up, and leans back slightly, his arms folded. He continues to stare right through Shoto’s skull, giving him the awful feeling of being picked apart and examined. Like he’s waiting for whatever else there is to Shoto’s defense. Shoto drops his own gaze away, and lets Aizawa win the stare-off. He’s got nothing else to add; the fact he’s stayed here, while Midoriya’s gone home, means he’s done his job.
“...Alright.”
He keeps his gaze down, as Aizawa slowly pushes his chair away from his desk, and walks to the door, his hands in his pockets. Shoto can’t resist glancing up, slightly, to follow his progress - where is he going? Is his plan just to leave Shoto alone, in here, as some kind of solitary confinement for the remainder of his detention?
Aizawa pushes open the door, and sticks his head out, and barely seconds later there’s a loud, unmistakable shriek.
“Midoriya, come in. Take a seat next to Todoroki.”
Well, shit.
Why the hell didn’t Midoriya go home? Was he trying to wait for Shoto, even though he’d asked him not to? How… stupidly kind. How stupid. Damn it, Midoriya, now they both have to stay.
Shoto glares at him with as much friendly fury as he can muster, as his friend slowly walks back into the room, but Midoriya doesn’t see it, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, hands trembling where they clutch at the straps of his backpack. He sits at the desk adjacent to Shoto, and Aizawa goes back to his own desk, now directly opposite both of them.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa speaks directly to Midoriya, and it’s impossible to miss how his friend flinches. “Thanks so much for sticking around.” Aizawa turns back to Shoto. “Todoroki. You are free to go. Thank you for your input.”
Shoto doesn’t move, staring at the still-trembling Midoriya. He makes a decision.
“...I have homework to do. I’d like to stay.”
“Suit yourself.” Aizawa shrugs. Shoto makes no move to pull any homework out, and if Aizawa notices, he doesn’t comment on it, instead turning back to Midoriya. “Alright. Problem Child. First things first, this is not a detention anymore.”
Midoriya is staring at his scarred hands, where they twist together on the desk in front of him. He frowns briefly, a subtle flicker of confusion and unease, but he doesn’t seem to have anything to comment on that, so Aizawa carries on.
(Shoto makes no attempt to hide the fact that he’s watching; things just got very interesting, and it seems like Aizawa might have actually understood him, when he’d tried to impress that Midoriya being this scared is… well, not normal. And he is very invested in seeing how that plays out.)
“Midoriya. I need to ask you something.” Aizawa’s voice is quiet, but impassive, with barely any inflection. No accusation, no blame, no judgement. “Are you scared of me?”
Midoriya, for his part, tries not to flinch again. It’s a good attempt at not-flinching, but ultimately ineffective.
“N-no.”
Aizawa stares at him.
“That’s a lie, isn’t it.”
“M-may-maybe.”
Aizawa folds his arms again, leaning back a little, one hand tapping repetitively against his bicep, as he assesses Midoriya.
“...Alright. Is it something I’ve done? Something I’ve said?”
Midoriya shakes his head rapidly, staring resolutely at the wooden desk in front of him.
“Something else, then? Am I just scary?” Aizawa frowns, leaning forward, resting on his elbows, seeming genuinely perturbed by that idea. Shoto is reminded, for a moment, of Eri; she’s a third Midoriya’s age, but sticks to Aizawa like glue. He’s intimidating, sure, but not genuinely scary. If anything, Shoto would swear he’s gotten a little less formidable since adopting her.
Again, Midoriya shakes his head, and this time he goes to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth a tiny hiccup of a sob slips out, and he clamps it firmly shut again, bringing up a hand to cover it. He continues to shake his head even more firmly, in place of the words he clearly can’t speak right now. There’s a tense silence between all three of them, as Midoriya’s tears begin to fall, splashing conspicuously against the desk.
Shoto ducks down under his desk for his bag, unzips it, and rummages around for a packet of tissues. He definitely has some somewhere. Once he finds them, he sticks his head up again, to find both Aizawa and Midoriya staring at him, as if they’d forgotten he was there.
He ignores the stares, simply turning to Midoriya and holding out the tissues. Midoriya is frozen for a second, staring at him - it seems the surprise is enough to stop his tears for a second - and then he accepts them, taking a second to wipe his face, before sitting dead straight again, staring down at his desk.
“Midoriya, there’s clearly something wrong here. Being told off shouldn’t upset you this much. And as much as you want to deny it, that is a problem that we have to address. If you have a problem with me, I’m going to need you to tell me that, or else there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”
Aizawa’s voice is as blunt, logical and deadpan as usual, but it’s somehow more emotional than Shoto thinks he’s heard it before. He’s suddenly once again grateful to have stuck around, even if just to maybe help coax Midoriya into talking about whatever it is that’s bothering him so much.
Midoriya just keeps staring at the desk, but Shoto can see his eyes zip side to side, as if he’s deep in thought, as if he’s trying to analyse and plot his way out of the situation. Aizawa sighs, quietly, more of a deep breath than an honest sigh - almost as if he doesn’t want them to hear.
“Kid, listen. I swear you’re not in trouble. Like I said, this is not a detention. But I do need to know what the matter is. ...Hey, tell you what, let’s give you immunity from expulsion, in fact, for the next hour. So go nuts. Shout at me, swear, do what you want, you don’t get punished. Alright?”
Midoriya shakes his head.
“...Not alright? Why not?” Aizawa turns to Shoto, frowning, seeming genuinely confused.
“I don’t think he believes you,” Shoto pipes up, quietly.
Midoriya doesn’t make any indication to confirm or deny, just continuing to stare at the desk.
“...Right. Because he thinks it’s a logical ruse.” Aizawa mutters, more to himself than to them. He sighs heavily, and puts his head in his hands. “Midoriya. Look. I mean this. If I was going to expel you, I’d have done it by now. You realise that, right?”
Midoriya just barely nods.
“So,” Aizawa continues, “You realise that I’m telling the truth right now.” There’s another small, hesitant nod from Midoriya. “Good. Another thing I’d like to add is that you’re clearly not enjoying this - I think we’re all aware of that - and,” He looks at his watch, “Class finished thirty-five minutes ago. So we can officially say your detention is finished, in case you still think you’re in one.”
Aizawa folds his arms again, staring at Midoriya, waiting for a response. Shoto notices how Midoriya’s eyes widen, slightly, as he follows the logic; it does, in fact, make sense.
“So. Punishment complete. Over. Finished. Done. But,” Aizawa continues, and Midoriya’s eyes immediately darken, “I still need to know what’s got you so upset. Really. We can come back to this tomorrow, if you need to do that, but I have no intention of just ignoring the fact that you’re sat here sobbing over a half-hour detention.”
His voice remains deceptively level, for what he’s saying; it doesn’t sound at all accusatory, or judgemental, instead leaving an opening for Midoriya to say what he needs to, if he can, or to leave it, if he can’t.
Midoriya hiccups once, and holds a hand over his mouth. He looks like he’s thinking, again, furiously picking apart the words to find any hidden meaning, looking for some sort of riddle to solve, but Shoto can see the moment when he realises there is none, there’s no deception here: his shoulders slump, and his eyes slip closed, and Shoto has a strong urge to hand him another tissue as the tears begin to fall again, no sobbing this time, just a steady, even trickle of tears.
“...I’m sorry,” he finally says, in a small voice.
“Don’t be.” Aizawa sounds relieved, more than anything. “Do you have any water?”
Midoriya perks up immediately, nodding, seemingly happy to have a task to complete, grabbing his bag and rooting around for a plastic water bottle. He takes a few sips, and a few deep breaths in between, and Aizawa has gone back to sitting with his arms folded, quietly watching.
“Better?”
Midoriya still won’t look at him, but he seems to have calmed down, somewhat. He nods, slowly.
“Alright. Good. So, can you tell me what’s got you so worked up?” Aizawa asks, quietly, plainly.
Midoriya fumbles with the water bottle, turning it over in his hands and running his thumb over the notches in the cap. Shoto isn’t sure he’s going to say anything at all, until -
“I’m not scared of you, sensei.” Midoriya’s voice is so quiet, Shoto isn’t sure he’s heard him quite right, but from Aizawa’s reaction, maybe he has. Aizawa goes to say something, but seems to think better of it, staying silent and still, waiting for Midoriya to continue.
“I know… sorry, I know, earlier, it sounded like I was. Or, uh, am. But… I’m not. I’m not scared of you. It’s… uh, please don’t take this the wrong way, I mean, it isn’t personal and I knowthatbutIdon’tsuppose you knowthatitisn’tpersonalbecause-”
“Midoriya, slow down. You’re alright. Take your time. So you aren’t scared of me. What are you scared of?”
Midoriya takes in a big gulp of air, as if he’d forgotten how to, before, and then lets it out slowly.
“Thanks. Sorry. Uh, teachers. I’m scared of teachers.”
Aizawa frowns. Shoto also frowns, in sync, and the two of them exchange a sideways glance, unnoticed by Midoriya, whose gaze is still fixed firmly on the desk.
Okay. This is exactly not where Shoto was expecting Midoriya’s explanation to go. That’s his shitty-home-life theory dashed. Interesting.
Midoriya backtracks quickly, clearly concerned by their silence.
“That’s not your fault though, sensei! Like I said, it’s nothing you’ve done! And even if you’re intimidating, I still don’t think you’re scary, I mean, you’re Eri’s favourite person, and she -”
“I’m Eri’s favourite person?” Aizawa asks, his eyebrows raised. “Okay, no, sorry, that’s not the point - Midoriya, you’re mumbling again. Slow down. You’re not in trouble. Can you tell me why you’re scared of teachers?”
Midoriya seems to shrink into himself once again.
“It’s… today was just an overreaction. It’s not a problem anymore, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I reacted like that - “
“So… hold on. Stop there a second.” Aizawa’s frown deepens. “You’re saying it’s not a problem anymore. But it was in the past. Is that right?”
Midoriya breathes slowly, nodding. Aizawa just waits him out.
“It was… I, um. Alright. I was… uh, different, growing up. It took a while for my quirk to come in.”
If Aizawa has anything he wants to say to that, he doesn’t show it, remaining completely impassive. Shoto’s eyes flick between the two of them, assessing the situation. He sincerely hopes that Midoriya hasn’t forgotten he’s still here, because this sounds a lot more personal than he was anticipating, somehow.
“So, for a long time, people thought I was quirkless. And, uh, you know how it is.” Midoriya stops there, taking another sip of water.
Aizawa watches him, waiting for him to continue, but the seconds stretch on, and it rapidly becomes clear that Midoriya has, in fact, finished.
“...Actually Midoriya, I can’t say that I do.” Aizawa is gentle with his words, putting relatively little emotion in, but somehow keeping his usual bluntness out - merely prompting Midoriya to continue, no judgement.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Midoriya reaches up, scratching at the back of his head. “So… well, quirkless people are… uh, gosh, I thought everyone knew this. Um, basically we get the blame for things a lot? Wait - sorry - got blamed, I guess. So... whenever things happened in class, even if it wasn’t me, it was usually me that got the punishment. Right? And the punishment was always something that - that would be easier if I had a quirk. Like the t-teacher wanted to say, hey, this is your fault, you wouldn’t be in this situation if you just, just, if you just, if you just had a quirk.”
Midoriya scrambles through the final sentence, speeding up as he reaches the end, and takes a shaky breath, looking like he’s about to start crying again, rotating and squeezing his water bottle in his hands. Shoto reflexively reaches for the tissues, handing him another one, and he accepts it gratefully, but doesn’t seem to be crying just yet. Still, good to have it on standby.
Aizawa, for his part, suddenly looks thunderous.
“You’re telling me you don’t like teachers because they’d put you in detention for anything ? For other people’s behaviour? And then withheld help that you needed, being quirkless?”
He probably doesn’t realise how much anger has bled into the words, though, given the way Midoriya suddenly shrinks back.
“Wait - kid - no, stop, I didn’t mean - Midoriya, I’m not angry at you. Like I said. You are not in any trouble .”
Midoriya nods, but the tears are streaming again despite that. Shoto pokes his hand, where he’s still clutching a tissue, and he remembers to use it, blowing his nose wetly.
“Really, kid, you’re not. I think I’m getting the picture now, though. ...What school was it you went to, again?”
“Aldera.” Midoriya continues, voice quiet.
“With Bakugou, right?”
Midoriya stays dead still, not saying a word. Aizawa leans back in his chair, watching Midoriya.
“...Alright. I think I’ve grilled you enough for today.” Aizawa says, and Midoriya visibly sags with relief that the interrogation is over. “I think it would be fair to suggest that, in light of how much it upsets you, I’ll not put you on the spot like that again unless I have a very good reason to.”
Midoriya’s eyes widen, and he finally looks up, as if to say something, but Aizawa holds a hand up to stop him.
“However, kid,” (And Shoto can see straight away how Midoriya’s back goes ramrod straight at the words, anticipating whatever it is that will take this kindness and tear it away from him again), “I need to be able to trust you not to give me that reason. Understand?”
Midoriya crumples, nodding very hard, tears once again rolling freely down his cheeks.
“Alright, I’ll take that as a yes. We have an agreement, then. For my part, though, I am going to be looking into Aldera, because I don’t think the way they treated you there was even legal, if I’m being honest. We have quirkless discrimination laws literally for this reason. Specifically for situations like this.”
Midoriya again looks terrified, but nods all the same. The tremble is fully gone from his hands, now, though, where he anxiously holds the now empty bottle of water. Aizawa gets up, walking to his desk, and Midoriya’s eyes track him there, watching intently. Aizawa simply retrieves a new bottle of water, handing it over to him.
“You’ve cried a lot. Make sure you finish that by the time you get home.”
Midoriya nods, with a quiet ‘thank you’, and tucks the new bottle into his backpack. As far as Shoto is concerned, this looks like their cue to head home. He pushes his own chair back, getting to his feet, and stretching slightly, checking his phone for the time. Fifty minutes late; that’s not terrible. It’s still light, outside, and they shouldn’t have too much trouble with the trains.
“See you tomorrow, Sensei.” Shoto calls to Aizawa, who’s started gathering his own things to leave, and heads toward the door. He snags Midoriya’s sleeve as he goes, tugging him along, as Aizawa straightens up from his desk to look at them both again.
“Todoroki. See you tomorrow. Have a good evening. You, too, Midoriya.”
Midoriya shuffles his bag properly onto his back, and lets out a few more quiet sniffles.
“Uh, thanks, Sensei. You too.”
Shoto pulls him through the door without any further distraction, and as they walk to the school exit, Midoriya’s sniffles slow down to a stop.
He can pinpoint the exact moment they turn to a watery smile.