Chapter Text
Hizashi managed to keep a smile plastered on his face the whole time he and Oboro floated around the building Kobayashi had directed them to, focused on finding the last civilian - a woman crouched down under a stairwell, thankfully unhurt. The moment they got her to the safety point, though, Oboro started dragging Hizashi towards the exit, even before the horn sounded almost a minute later.
He knew that it was a lot faster and smoother riding on a cloud than if Oboro needed to help him along on foot; but the fact was, he didn’t want any help at all. He wanted to shove his friend away and walk out on his own.
The problem with that, of course, was that the wound on his side actually hurt really fucking badly, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it more than a few steps by himself.
And now that the test was over, the adrenaline that had kept him moving was starting to wear off, and he found himself leaning heavily against Oboro’s side. He tried to keep his smile up, but he could feel it getting tighter, ready to crack.
“Sensei!” Oboro shouted as soon as they caught sight of him.
“We saw what happened, go on, get him to Recovery Girl,” Nishibori said calmly. Oboro nodded sharply and took off, zooming them towards the main school building. Hizashi squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against Oboro’s shoulder, trying not to breathe too deeply as the burning sensation in his side sent pulses of pain rippling through him.
He also tried not to breathe too shallowly, because the fear was already starting to twist inside him as he wondered how bad the damage was. He could feel himself edging towards the realm of panic, and the last fucking thing he needed right now was to have a breakdown in the middle of school.
As focused as he was on his breathing, it took Hizashi a bit before he noticed that the wind in his ears had gotten quieter. He pried his eyes open and saw that they were inside now, Oboro moving them swiftly through the corridors.
“No running in the hallways,” Hizashi joked weakly. His voice came out shaky, and he bit his lip, breathing slowly through his nose.
“We’re flying, not running,” Oboro quipped right back as they slowed to a stop outside the nurse’s office.
“If it isn’t Athos and Porthos,” Recovery Girl said when Oboro finally helped Hizashi down onto his feet. Hizashi hissed through his teeth as the movement jostled his wound, but Recovery Girl only shook her head at him. “Come on, over here, let me take a look at you,” she sighed, heading over to a bed near the back of the room.
Hizashi pulled away from Oboro, determined to walk over on his own.
That, as it turned out, was a poor decision.
As soon as he moved, the burning pain radiating out from his side flared even brighter, and his knees buckled while his body screamed hell fucking no, are you stupid? A strangled whine wheezed out of him as he sagged against the wall, hating how pathetic he was right now.
“Will you lean on me, or do I need to float you over there?” Oboro asked him. For once, there was no teasing note of humor to mask the worry.
Stubbornness flared up inside Hizashi, as hot as his wound, and he found enough breath to growl, “Keep your fog to yourself, Cloud Boy.”
“As long as you don’t collapse, Mouth Man.” At least Oboro was bantering back, but there was still enough of an edge to his voice that Hizashi knew he must look as shitty as he felt. Reluctantly, he grabbed onto Oboro with his left arm, his right still held stiffly as a barrier between the world and the wound on his side. Slowly but steadily, Oboro helped him over to where Recovery Girl was fiddling with something next to one of the cots.
“Here, take this,” she said, thrusting some pills and a cup of water at Hizashi. “It will help with the pain.”
Hizashi winced as he took the pills and swallowed them… and then he paused to wonder why the magic healer needed him to take pain killers. Worry started to creep up the back of his throat.
“Aren’t you gonna… heal me?” he asked. The panicky feeling from earlier was kicking up again as he began to question if this was a lot worse than he realized. What if she couldn’t heal him? What if he was never gonna heal properly? What if he had to drop out of the hero course and-
“Of course I am,” the nurse said, her firm voice cutting through Hizashi’s spiraling thoughts, “But we’re going to have to get that burnt fabric off of you before I can safely do so.” Oboro grabbed for the zipper of Hizashi’s jacket and tried to pull it down, but Hizashi flinched and batted his hand away.
Of course, the movement only made a fresh wave of pain wash through him, and Hizashi gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t keep doing this, something inside him was gonna snap; shit, he just needed this over.
Fuuuuuck, this sucked.
The sound of footsteps pounding down the hall outside dragged Hizashi’s attention away from wallowing in his misery and back towards the doorway. He pried his eyes open just in time to watch Shouta burst in, red faced and out of breath. Wide, dark eyes looked wildly around until his gaze fell on Hizashi and Oboro, an expression first of relief and then horror flicking across his face.
A fragment of the tension in Hizashi eased. It wasn’t much, but he could breathe a little easier.
“Ohohoho, there’s Aramis, I was wondering where the third Musketeer was,” Recovery Girl chuckled. “You’re just in time, I think Yamada could do with a bit more help.”
Hizashi bristled at that, gritting out, “I don’t need help,” between clenched teeth. Unfortunately, his obstinate bravado was immediately undermined when he yelped in pain as Oboro moved to stand at his right side and accidentally brushed against his jacket.
Recovery Girl dropped her smile as she looked up at him. “Listen carefully, Yamada,” she said, holding his gaze. “You are going to be fine, but you’ve got a nasty burn. Even if I didn’t need to see the damage to know the extent of what I was dealing with, we would still need to get these clothes away from the wound. You don’t want me to heal you, only to find some piece of your outfit fused into your new skin.”
Blanching at the thought, Hizashi barely suppressed a shudder as he imagined it in vivid detail. “That is a deeply disturbing image,” he groaned, still trying to keep Oboro from tugging at his jacket in his quest to unzip it. “Why would you say that!?”
Recovery Girl’s serious expression gave way to a tiny, wicked smirk… and in that moment, Hizashi understood. She would continue to tell him every single ugly complication that could arise if he kept fighting against the help they were trying to give him.
The problem was, fighting was the only way he knew how to keep himself together.
“You are a cruel woman,” he moaned.
“You gotta be cruel to be kind,” she said with a shrug, still smirking.
Hizashi blinked and froze in shock, giving Oboro the opportunity to finally get his jacket unzipped. “Are you quoting 1970s English pop music to try to distract me?” he sputtered.
“It’s working, isn’t it?”
Hizashi pouted. “Yes.” It grated against every impulse inside him, but he took a breath and let the fight drain out of him. It was hard, but at least he knew that, no matter how scared and hurt he was, he was safe here with Oboro and Shouta.
Recovery Girl gave him a softer smile. “Good. Aizawa, help Yamada get his boots off.”
Shouta’s initial momentum through the doorway had carried him a few steps towards them, but he’d stalled to a stop halfway across the room… and he still hadn’t spoken a single word. Hizashi was used to Shouta being quiet, but there was something unnerving about it now. At least he started moving again at Recovery Girl’s command, immediately coming over to kneel down in front of Hizashi, shoulders hunched and bowing his head low. Far lower than he needed to, more than halfway to the floor.
Even as scattered as Hizashi felt right now, he couldn’t mistake the posture as anything other than a silent apology… He just had no idea what to do about it. He could only stare down as Shouta carefully pulled off one boot, then the other, while Oboro helped Hizashi keep his balance.
Which was necessary, because Hizashi felt very off-balance right now, in more than one way.
“Jacket next,” Recovery Girl said, pulling the privacy curtain closed the rest of the way. The rattle as it moved along its track snapped Hizashi out of his daze and dragged his eyes away from Shouta. “The medicine should be kicking in soon, so if you want to wait another few minutes, you may.”
He glanced quickly back down at Shouta, flinching as another spike of pain stabbed through him. “Gotta say, I’m not the biggest fan of dragging this out any longer than necessary,” Hizashi muttered, then sighed. “Let’s just get it done.”
“Sit,” Recovery Girl commanded, shoving a low, sturdy plastic stool towards him. “No arguments.” Shouta stood to get out of the way, moving to Hizashi’s side. His eyes were still downcast while Oboro positioned the stool and Hizashi focused on carefully lowering himself onto it. At Recovery Girl’s direction, Hizashi kept his arms down at his sides while Shouta eased the jacket down his left arm as Oboro did the same on his right.
“Slow and steady,” Hizashi mumbled, trying to control his breathing as the heavy fabric came away from him, “Don’t hit the buzzer.”
“Might be funny to see your nose light up. I think my brother still has our ‘Operation’ game stashed in the closet somewhere. We’ll play the next time you come over,” Oboro said, blowing out a relieved breath and holding Hizashi’s jacket up in triumph. “I got the funny bone!”
“Too bad I need spare ribs,” Hizashi grumbled. The injury was actually lower than his ribs, down on the softer skin of his waist close to his hip. He glanced down briefly at the burnt and bloodied fabric of his t-shirt, wincing at the sight as much as the pain that rippled through him at the movement.
“Hey, how did you end up so burnt while your jacket is fine? Didn’t you have your costume made of leather because it’s a good layer of protection?” Oboro asked, examining the jacket. “I mean, besides the fact that it looks cool, obviously,” he added.
Hizashi frowned, thinking about those seconds when everything had gone to shit.
He remembered looking over to see that giant fucking robot come out of nowhere. Remembered seeing Shouta standing there in the line of fire as that hugeass gun charged up. The moment he realized that Shouta wasn’t fucking moving and was about to be blasted to ash. Running towards him, heart in his throat, screaming at the robot while having to make sure he didn’t blast Shouta too. Reaching out, arms stretched towards Shouta, tackling him to the ground while the whine of the gun grew louder until everything went white…
He sucked in a breath, heart pounding as he shook his head to banish the memories, at least for now. “It must have gotten rucked up at a weird angle when I was moving or something,” he finally said, shrugging his left shoulder. He hoped nobody else noticed the waver in his voice.
When he looked at Recovery Girl, she was inspecting his wound and frowning at it in a way he didn’t like. She turned away for a moment, and when she turned back, she was holding a pair of angled scissors.
“Uhhh, what’re those for?” he squeaked, suddenly feeling a little dizzy as an icy chill slid through his veins.
“I have to cut that t-shirt off of you so I can get it away from the wound,” she said. The dizziness got worse as he realized that this part was really going to suck.
For better or for worse, Recovery Girl didn’t give him much time to dwell on it, moving with practiced ease, grabbing the bottom hem of the shirt and starting to snip, careful not to pull the fabric that was stuck to the wound. The scissors were cold, though, and the chilly touch of them bit into the sensitive skin of his stomach. He knew the blades weren’t cutting him; but the sensation joined forces with the ice beneath his skin and made him want to jerk away.
“Easy, man, yer ok.” Oboro’s hand was warm and heavy on his back, holding him steady, and he was thankful for it. Hizashi’s left arm reached out, almost reflexively, as the scissors brushed against his sternum, grabbing blindly for Shouta, catching his wrist and holding on. After a beat, he felt Shouta’s free hand press over his own.
Recovery Girl finished cutting his shirt right up to the collar, but didn’t go through the last few centimeters of fabric yet. Then she cut most of the way from the hems of the sleeves up to his collar, leaving the same bit of fabric keeping things together.
“Aizawa, Shirakumo, hold his shirt up while I make the last cuts,” she told them. Hizashi hated losing the pressure of Shouta’s hand on his, but it was immediately replaced by a firm grip on his shoulder. He and Oboro each held on tightly, keeping his shirt up as Recovery Girl snipped the last bits, with Hizashi acutely aware of how close the blades were to his rabbiting pulse. His mind ever-so-helpfully provided him with a vivid image of what it might look like if her shaky old hands slipped and cut an artery-
The click of the scissors being put down on a tray off to the side interrupted that particular thought, and Hizashi sucked a sharp breath in through his nose. He was fine. This was fine. His hand tightened on Shouta’s wrist and he felt the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his fingers.
“Take a knee, you two,” Recovery Girl said, nodding at Oboro and Shouta. “Yamada, arms on your friend’s shoulders and hold on,” she told him, collecting the cut ends of his sleeves beneath his arms so that lifting them wouldn’t pull on the fabric.
Hizashi took a breath and forced himself to release his grip on Shouta’s wrist, moving to rest his arm along the back of his neck as his friends each knelt up tall and shifted closer beside him. He hesitated a moment before moving his right arm to hold on to Oboro, hissing through his teeth as the wound stretched and pulled.
“Aizawa,” Recovery Girl said firmly, “Use your Quirk, just in case.” Hizashi turned to look at Shouta, who was even paler than before.
“Is that ok?” Shouta whispered, the first words he’d spoken since he’d gotten there. They sounded hoarse and small, but Hizashi found he could breathe a little easier hearing them. He nodded; his control was good, but far from perfect, and bursting Recovery Girl’s eardrums was a surefire way to make this whole ordeal a lot worse for everyone.
Shouta’s eyes glowed, his hair lifting, and despite the situation, Hizashi couldn’t help but stare, entranced. There really was something fundamentally different between watching Shouta use his Quirk and being the target of it himself. Something hypnotic that Hizashi didn’t think he’d ever quite get used to.
For a moment, everything was still and silent.
The moment splintered when Recovery Girl peeled his shirt off of him in a smooth, skillful motion and pain tore through Hizashi again. His mouth fell open in a silent shout before he was able to suck in a breath and bite down on his lip, muffling his mute whimpers. The only sound he was aware of was the air passing through his nose in sharp staccato breaths. He was vaguely conscious of the fact that Recovery Girl was talking, but none of what she said registered at all. His fists were clenched tightly, jaw tense and aching as he tried to hold himself together.
It took a few moments, but finally the agony subsided. It still hurt like hell, but he could bear it. He took a shaky breath, then another, sniffling once before sighing.
“Easy Yamada,” Recovery Girl was saying as he was finally able to focus on her words again. “Got your breath back?” she asked him, and Hizashi nodded, blinking away some of the blurriness around the edges of his vision. “Good. Stand up, there we go,” she said, and Oboro and Shouta each stood, helping Hizashi haul himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on his friends, he swayed in place for a moment before steadying himself. “Shirakumo, get his belt off,” she ordered. “The worst of it is on his waist, but the blisters look like they’ve spread to his hip, and I need to know how far the damage goes. Yamada, lean on Aizawa.”
“You’re gonna need to relax your hand, buddy,” Oboro said gently. Hizashi blinked, looking at him in confusion, until he realized his fist was clenched tightly in the hair at the back of Oboro’s head.
“Sorry,” Hizashi gasped, loosening his stiff fingers so Oboro could move. A glance to his left told him that his other hand was tangled in Shouta’s hair. “Sorry,” he repeated.
“‘S fine,” Shouta mumbled as Hizashi forced himself to relax his grip.
“And now, I have the honor of being the first person to get into Hizashi’s pants,” Oboro said, solemnly and with great reverence as he carefully unbuckled Hizashi’s belt.
Hizashi managed to gasp out a laugh. “What makes you think you’re the first?” he challenged.
“Cuz there’s no way you’d wouldn't have told me if anyone else had gotten here already,” Oboro pointed out as he gingerly pulled the belt out through the loops. It was unpleasant, but nothing compared to getting his shirt off.
“I need to look at that hip, so those pants need to be unfastened,” Recovery Girl said, looking up at Hizashi. For a moment, Hizashi considered trying to do it himself, but he could feel how shaky he still was. He turned to glance sheepishly at Oboro, who only smiled at him.
“I got you. Need to complete my conquest, after all,” Oboro teased, gingerly unbuttoning and unzipping Hizashi’s pants, carefully working them down, just enough that the last of the injured skin was visible. Hizashi leaned heavily on Shouta, sighing in relief that the worst of it had to be over. Shouta’s hand gripped Hizashi’s forearm where he was leaning against him, and the pressure of it was grounding.
“That should be sufficient,” Recovery Girl said, gently rolling the side of the waistbands of Hizashi’s pants and briefs down together, so that everything was tucked in on itself and well clear of the wound. Hizashi took a slow breath, then turned his head to glance down, inspecting the injury for himself.
Blackened and burnt in the center where the worst damage was, there was an area a little bigger than his hand that was slowly oozing blood and weeping fluid. Blisters sprouted around the angry red edges and further away, down his hip and onto his stomach. With a slight wave of nausea, Hizashi looked away again, burying his face against Shouta’s shoulder. He took a slow breath, then another.
It was funny. Though Shouta had worked up quite a sweat, there was something about the way he smelled that made Hizashi feel better. He kept breathing.
Recovery Girl started bustling around on the far side of the cot behind him, but Hizashi couldn’t muster the energy to look and see what she was up to. He just tried to focus on the comforting presence of his friends on either side of him, leaning on Shouta while Oboro kept a steady hand high on his back.
He wasn’t sure how long it was before Recovery Girl’s voice broke through the bubble of calm he was trying to build around himself. “Lay on the cot, I need to wash that off,” she said, and Hizashi groaned.
“Come on, seriously?” He just wanted it to stop hurting.
“My Quirk doesn’t kill bacteria, young man,” she chided, “And your system is going to be dealing with enough already. Come along.” Accepting the inevitable, he let Shouta and Oboro help him up onto the cot, though he tried to adjust his position himself, holding on to Shouta for stability as he scooted himself over and onto his left side.
Oboro shifted down a little and rested his hand on Hizashi’s leg, giving a brief squeeze. Shouta stayed up near the head of the bed, and Hizashi closed his eyes and reached out to grab Shouta’s hands with his own. He could feel Shouta holding on to him just as tightly.
“Ahhhh, shit!” Hizashi hissed as the nurse started rinsing his wound with warm, soapy water, squeezing his eyes shut to try and stem the tears from sliding down his face. He just wanted this done, he needed it over, gods, could she please just hurry the fuck up? His breath was tight in his chest, and he could feel the tension in his arms spreading, his muscles coiling, wanting to just escape the pain.
“Almost done,” Oboro’s voice reassured him.
“You’re gonna be ok, Zashi.” Shouta’s voice was little more than a whisper, and Hizashi tried to focus on the gentle sweep of Shouta’s thumb across the inside of his wrist.
Finally, after what felt like hours (though was probably closer to a minute), Recovery Girl put her supplies aside and walked around to stand between Oboro and Shouta. She looked Hizashi in the eye, her mouth a firm line. "Even with my Quirk,” she said, “Burns are tricky. This might end up leaving a bit of scarring, do you understand?”
“Yes,” Hizashi gritted out. He could live with a scar, he just wanted it to stop hurting. Besides, “It’s not like I’ve got much choice anyway.”
“Too right,” Recovery Girl said as she somehow managed to plant a kiss up by Hizashi’s right shoulder.
It was the weirdest sensation - it didn’t hurt, but it was like the whole wound started itching. Every nerve ending was lighting up with a spark of sensation that it didn’t know what to do with, and Hizashi had to fight the urge to squirm. The feeling washed down his side, and finally, finally the pain receded, leaving him with a sense of cool air on over-sensitive skin.
With a shiver, it was over, and Hizashi’s forehead sagged against the back of Shouta’s hand in relief.
“Good lad,” Recovery Girl said, patting him on the arm. “Lay there and rest, I’ll get you some juice.” She walked away, and Hizashi breathed, very much enjoying the whole ‘not being in pain’ thing.
After a moment’s silence, Shouta murmured, “Why did you do that?” His voice was even smaller and quieter than before.
“Huh?” Hizashi wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from getting healed, or if there was something else he was missing, but his brain was currently not up to the task of figuring out what Shouta meant.
“The robot. Why did you jump in like that?”
Oh. Yeah.
The whole fucking shitshow that had culminated in Hizashi’s fun-filled journey to Recovery Girl’s domain.
And Shouta was asking him why he’d jumped in!?
He forced himself to release his grip on Shouta and sit up, fueled by irritation that his friend could even ask such a stupid question. Immediately Shouta pulled his own hands away, taking half a step back from the bed.
“I dunno, maybe cuz you were about to be blasted into smithereens,” Hizashi snarked, “I guess I figured, nah, not the way I want to see things play out today.”
“What happened out there?” Oboro asked, moving to sit on the abandoned stool next to where Shouta stood. “I was grappling with that villain, and the next thing I knew, all hell was breaking loose.”
“That’s just the question I was going to ask,” a new voice said, and the three of them looked over to see Nishibori stepping into the nurse’s office. “What happened out there, Aizawa?”
Shouta’s mouth opened, then closed, then pressed into a thin line as he cast his eyes down towards the floor. “I froze.” He took a breath, then another. Recovery Girl came back with some apple juice for Hizashi. He took a slow sip, but nobody said anything.
“Come on, Aizawa, we can go talk about this privately-” Sensei started to say, but Shouta finally looked up from the floor.
“No, I don’t-” Shouta cut himself off, and when he spoke up again, his voice was eerily calm. “I couldn’t think of how to handle that robot, or where I could safely move to dodge, and I froze up.” His eyes darted over to Hizashi. “I understand if I’ve failed, or if I need to be expelled-”
“What!?” Hizashi yelped, irritation washed away in a wave of panic. “No way, you better not expel him, Sensei!”
“You got hurt,” Shouta said, voice still unnaturally calm, refusing to meet Hizashi’s eyes. “My inaction caused you to put yourself in danger and to be seriously injured.”
“Yeah, not the highlight of my day,” Hizashi snapped, “But that thing was huge! You freaked out-”
“Heroes can’t afford to freak out,” Shouta replied, still totally unruffled.
“Good thing we’re still students,” Hizashi countered. “I ruptured your eardrum and knocked you out of a damn tree just a few months ago because there was a bug on me!”
Shouta paused at that for a moment, but continued again in that too-calm voice,“Unexpected things happen in the real world. If I freeze every time-”
“But you don’t,” Oboro cut in. “I’ve never seen you freeze like that before.”
“Enough, boys,” Sensei said, and they all quieted down. “First of all, nobody is getting expelled.” Hizashi heaved a sigh of relief. “Second of all, even pro heroes out in the real world sometimes freeze. That’s part of why we’re trying to bring in bigger challenges, like that robot, to expose you as students to more extreme situations to try and help minimize it happening after graduation.” Shouta blinked at that, but otherwise didn’t react.
“Third,” Nishibori continued, “Aizawa’s performance throughout the rest of the exam, including his recovery after he froze up, might be enough to earn a pass on this test; but it will be a close thing. The other teachers and I are going to be assessing everyone’s performance later.
“Aizawa,” At Nishibori’s tone, Shouta dragged his eyes up to meet their teacher’s gaze. “You seem to understand the gravity of the situation. You know the danger you and others faced, and how important it is that it not happen again.” Shouta nodded. “You have a tendency to hesitate and overthink; but Shirakumo is right, you’ve never frozen like that before. Take this opportunity to learn and understand what happened, to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
Shouta bowed his head. “Yes, Sensei,” he said, but Hizashi didn’t like how flat his voice still was.
“Come on you two,” Sensei said to Oboro and Shouta, “Get changed and head back to the rest of the class. Let Yamada rest.” He turned and walked out of the office, Oboro following not far behind, giving Hizashi a jaunty wave as he left.
“See ya in a bit!” he called.
Shouta stood frozen in place for a moment, his hands drifting up towards the capture weapon still looped around his neck, fingers tracing the line of the fabric absently. He shuffled forward a few steps, then paused, one hand falling slightly away from the binding cloth, the heel of his hand rubbing over his sternum. He was staring at the doorway, but Hizashi was positive that Shouta’s attention was focused on him, even if he refused to meet his eye.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was too flat. Too quiet. From anyone else, it would have sounded like insincere bullshit. But Hizashi remembered the way Shouta had been bowed over earlier when he helped him with his boots. He knew he meant it.
“You can make it up to me later,” Hizashi teased with a tired smile, hoping to shake Shouta out of whatever weird mood had gotten into him. “Just don’t do that again.” Shouta nodded, then followed Oboro and Sensei out of the office.
*
Hizashi dozed for a while before Recovery Girl shook him awake. Aside from some lingering exhaustion, he was feeling much better. A quick glance at his side showed that there was, indeed, a small patch of skin that twisted and puckered ever so slightly.
“That doesn’t seem too bad,” he said to himself, smoothing his hand over it. He could barely feel the difference under his palm, and the skin itself felt the warmth and touch of his hand. It was almost like nothing had happened in the first place.
Well, not really, since the memories were seared into his brain; but he was determined to spend all his time very much not thinking about that.
“I did a damn good job, if I do say so,” Recovery Girl noted. “That scar may fade over time, but not for years. Let it be a reminder to be more careful. Now, as I understand it, your classmates have been going over the results from all the written exams earlier this week. You can stop by the classroom and speak to Nishibori if you want to know yours,” she said as she handed him his uniform to change into.
“Thanks,” Hizashi said as he closed the curtain to get changed. When he was done, Hizashi made his way to the front of the office and bowed to Recovery Girl. “Thanks again, for everything.” It had sucked, sure; but he was feeling much better now.
“Don’t make a habit out of it,” she told him, handing him a lollipop.
By the time Hizashi got to the classroom, dismissal had already come and gone, but Sensei and about half the class were still there, including Oboro and Shouta.
“Welcome back, Yamada,” Sensei said.
“Glad to be back,” Hizashi laughed.
“Results from the practical will be posted tomorrow; but in the meantime, here.” Nishibori handed Hizashi a printout with a breakdown of his final exam grades, his final academic grades for the semester, and the current class rankings.
Sketching a quick bow, Hizashi scooted over to where Shouta and Oboro were packing up. He plopped down in Niragi’s empty seat in front of Shouta and started to read over the exam results.
He’d done well.
He’d done really well, actually. He wasn’t expecting to see a few perfect scores in there! He glanced down the page to look at the class rankings. Then he blinked and read them again.
“I’m second in the class?” he asked, not believing it. It was one thing for him to manage that for one semester, but the whole year? He wondered if there was some mistake with his printout, but Hadachi was first, which was definitely correct. Shouta was seventh, which seemed about right… and Oboro was seventeenth, which also seemed about right. It had to be accurate. “Oh yeah! Who’s ready to go celebrate!” Hizashi said, waving around his grade report.
Oboro whooped, but Shouta shot him a look like he’d lost his mind.
“I nearly got you killed today,” he snapped, and at least that creepy calmness was finally gone. “That’s not exactly something I want to celebrate.”
“Then you can celebrate me heroically saving your ass,” Hizashi said, turning it around with a pair of finger guns aimed with deadly accuracy. “Come on, we’re all in one piece, we all passed, and we’ve got the next few weeks off. I wanna go out!” Shouta was still frowning, so Hizashi tried a different tactic. “Consider it your first installment of making it up to me.”
Hizashi didn’t really think Shouta owed him anything; but he remembered how he’d felt when he’d knocked Shouta out of that tree during training camp. Part of why he’d worked so hard with the bugs the next day was to make it up to Shouta, to show him he was gonna do better. It had even kinda been the same thing with the lady beetle. Hizashi wasn’t sure he’d ever really be done trying to make up for the way he’d hurt Shouta.
From the look on Shouta’s face, Hizashi guessed that he might feel similarly.
“Catpurrccinos!” Oboro declared, “Let’s go!”
“Not the arcade?” Shouta asked quietly.
Hizashi’s jaw dropped. Shouta almost never wanted to go to the arcade; between the cost and the noise, it was a lot for him. He must really want to make things up to Hizashi. Still, Shouta was having a rough day too, and Hizashi wanted to do something they’d all enjoy.
“Nah, not today,” Hizashi said. “I’m still kinda wiped out from Recovery Girl’s magic touch, but the cat cafe sounds purrrrrfect,” he said with a smirk.
“Hey, Idiots,” Kobayashi said, coming over to them. “Everyone intact?”
“Good to go,” Hizashi said with a double thumbs up and a wink.
“Why do you keep calling us idiots?” Shouta asked, and Kobayashi chuckled.
“Ebisui started it,” she said, casting a quick glance at Hizashi. Something in his chest still ached about how all that had gone down; but for the most part, he and Ebisui were good with each other now, no hard feelings. They’d even spoken a few times outside of class stuff. Kobayashi gave him a little smile before she continued.
“Me and Nakano were talking with her a lot right after the breakup, and she just started saying ‘the three idiots’ as shorthand instead of saying your names over and over. It kinda stuck. For what it’s worth, I say it with equal parts affection and exasperation.” She gave them a sheepish grin. “I think it’s also spread to Class B, sorry about that,” she said with a shrug that didn’t actually seem very sorry.
“Ya know what? I’ve been called much worse things, by much worse people,” Hizashi laughed, finding he didn’t mind the moniker.
“If the shoe fits,” Oboro said with a grin.
Shouta just blinked in confusion between the two of them. “I guess we deserve it at this point,” he muttered.
“Anyway, I’m glad you guys are all in one piece,” she said as she headed towards the door. “Enjoy your break!”
“You too!” Hizashi called after her. “Alright,” he said, turning back to his friends. “Catpurrccinos!”
*
The cat cafe had been a good idea. Even though Shouta had insisted on paying for Hizashi, it was clear that being able to sit and snuggle with the fur-balls had a profound positive impact on Shouta’s mood. By the time they all left, Shouta was acting much more like himself. He was still more quiet than usual, but Hizashi understood that it had been a stressful day all around. Even he wasn’t able to muster his usual levels of enthusiasm. He was thankful that Oboro’s cheerful energy was there to keep them all going.
Unfortunately, it didn’t carry over once Hizashi got home, and the exhaustion of the day hit him all over again. He flopped down on his bed and dozed off.
When Dad woke him up for dinner later, Hizashi discovered another unfortunate turn of events: the school had called and let his parents know what had happened. Which meant a meal full of questions he didn’t want to answer. ‘Are you ok?’ ‘How did it happen?’ ‘Is Aizawa alright?’ ‘Why didn’t you tell us sooner?’
Honestly, he hadn’t planned on telling them about it at all; but since they’d heard part of it, he was forced to fill in some of the blanks. Not the way he’d wanted to start his break, but whatever. At least he was able to get them off the topic by showing them his grade report and class ranking, which seemed to distract them pretty well.
Now, though, Hizashi was laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and he was fresh out of effective distractions for himself.
Now, he couldn’t stop turning things over and over in his head.
He couldn’t shake the image of the giant robot leveling its gun at Shouta, and Shouta just… standing there like a statue. For a wild second, as Hizashi had charged across the grass, he’d thought that Shouta had been hit accidentally by Hadachi’s Freeze Tag Quirk. Looking back on it, it had been a really stupid thought. Hadachi was their class rep, and had much better control over her Quirk than that, not to mention the fact that she hadn’t even been nearby.
But in the moment, Hizashi didn’t even stop to consider that Shouta might have frozen up on his own. It was such a strange idea. Shouta had always been so strong, so smart. Sure, he underestimated himself a lot, and sometimes he hesitated; but the idea that Shouta could get so freaked out that he would panic and freeze like that was…
Hizashi wasn’t sure what it was.
When he’d seen everything unfolding, Hizashi hadn’t even thought about it, he’d just leaped into action. His feet had taken off running until he’d barreled into Shouta. In hindsight, he should have known that the robot would use a lower power output during a test; the school didn’t actually want to murder its students. In the moment, though, getting to Shouta had been the only thing that mattered.
In the real world, it could have gone so very wrong in so many ways.
An image of Shouta with a hole blasted clean through his chest popped into Hizashi’s head, and a wave of nausea rolled through him at the idea that it could have happened.
Hizashi knew that, even if the gun had been on full blast, taking the hit he’d taken was worth it to avoid the other outcome.
He curled up on his side and tried to sleep. He could still feel the echoes of the weariness from Recovery Girl’s Quirk tugging at him… but the images in his brain wouldn’t stop playing over and over.
Even when he finally drifted off, his restless dreams were plagued by Shouta’s deathly pale face staring at him with unseeing eyes.