Chapter Text
I shouldn't have underestimated their problems.
Bright, golden beams pierced through the windows and cut through the darkening shadows as the bright sun in the sky outside slowly dipped down behind the horizon. Dust motes drifted through the stale air that was thick with a heavy silence.
The room was quiet, but the silence was deafening. It spoke more than any of them had.
There were nine people that had gathered. A circle in the middle of the room had formed, with a styrofoam warhead shoved off to the side to make room. A circle where everyone could see each other, with both Midoriya and Todoroki at the front of the circle, both sat together, with a view over everyone who attended. This should be a place to feel listened to.
A place where everyone could be equal for a little while. A place to push all the ego and rivalries aside to focus on trying to heal, to focus on becoming better heroes without burdens holding them back.
That's what I wrote in the invitation.
The room felt colder than it was.
Everyone's eyes... They were averted. Apparently the floor, or their pants, or anything, really, was more interesting. Or, alternatively, staring ahead at whoever happened to be in front of them. It was like everyone had signed a unanimous, unspoken agreement after they'd all finished speaking.
I remember sharing a glance with Todoroki during the silent stalemate. A look that read the same way that I felt.
Everyone needed time to process it all.
It was the first time some of them had even verbally spoken about their problems. The abuse they faced, the abuse they're still facing. It was like their reality was setting in, and all questions about their behaviours and attitudes were answered within the hour they'd been crammed into this room away from the rest of their clueless peers.
The ever-angry Bakugo sat subdued on the floor, he'd sat away from the circle, legs crossed and hands clenched tightly in his lap as he stared at everyone. A bead of sweat traced his cheek, and his eyes lacked their usual sharp narrowness.
Kaminari’s poker face was far from stellar - his eyes wide, jaw clenched, and attention fixed firmly on the floor he’d been kneeling on as if it were suddenly fascinating. The only sound in the past minute had been the quiet shuffle of him shifting to sit properly on the floor.
Sero and Ashido couldn’t have been more different… yet right now their expressions were almost identical: horrified bemusement. Sero’s usual grin lingered, though more uneasy than confident, his eyes wider than normal. Ashido’s lips, normally curved in a smile, had given way to a frown as one hand absently toyed with the jacket tied around her waist.
Tokoyami and Kuroiro, by contrast, were so alike - and their expressions were complete opposites. Tokoyami’s stoicism held firm, only his clenched hands betraying any turmoil. Kuroiro, meanwhile, stared ahead wide-eyed, no doubt aching to melt into the shadows… an urge he barely restrained.
And Monoma… he sat hunched over, legs crossed, one hand covering his mouth while the other pressed to his forehead. His head bowed low, fringe falling over his face. He had been the last to speak.
Out of eight invitations, seven showed up. Seven hero students willing to listen and talk to others with roughly the same experience... Even if they had only shown up out of curiosity, it was a start.
I can't let them down now, not after they placed their trust in me.
I can't afford to underestimate the severity again.
Now that I know, I can adjust.
I can definitely help them.