"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." ~ Elizabeth Kubler Ros

It was around 7:00 on a Sunday afternoon and a grumpy and tired middle-aged man sat grumbling at his cedar wood office desk. His office was rather compact, fitting in a room the size of a public restroom with added width. The beige walls and birch wood flooring complemented the large arched window behind him. Outside, it was nearly dark, the sun setting just beyond the large architecturally perplexing school building. He stared down at the moderate stack of papers in front of him with furrowed brows. His favorite thing. Injury reports.

Those damned problem children need to learn to listen when their teacher tells them not to use their quirks.

When he mentioned the problem-children, he referred to the widely-known Class 1-A, and when he mentioned their teacher, he was, of course, referring to himself. He leaned on the cluttered desk, resting his fingers on his temple. Annoyed, he let out a sigh, dropping his pen and holding his face in his hands. This was going nowhere. He stood, pushing his swivel chair backward with a bit of unintentional force. He rolled up the sleeves to his plain black long-sleeved shirt. He'd intended on investing in something more than night clothes to wear out and about, but baggy sweatpants and knee-length shorts were just too comfortable to give up. He opened a drawer on the side of his desk and pulled out a hair-tie, pulling his long black hair back into a man bun. He grabbed his half-empty coffee mug off his desk and made way for the door. Two students rushed past him as he opened it, almost causing him to spill the remainder of his coffee on his shirt.

"GEB BAB HEREB, DAMMIT!"

"Boys." The two students stopped at the end of the hallway and slowly walked back up to him. They were both in their pajamas, one blonde with indescribably unruly hair and a less-than-happy scowl on his face, his mouth filled with toothpaste. The other a bit shorter than the blonde with stylized solid yellow hair and a dorky smile permanently plastered across his face. "What have I told you about running in the dorms."

"But Bakugo won't chill with us in the commons!" the shorter one complained. "I bet you and your boyfriend get bro-time all the time." The annoyed teacher pinched his nose.

"Kaminari, what have I told you about calling Present Mic-"

"OOOOOOH!" Denki cooed, his eyes widening as he squeezed his hands against his cheeks. "I didn't specify who I was talking about that time!" he exclaimed. "So he is your boyfriend!" Aizawa suppressed the urge to blush. Now wasn't the time for gossip.

"No, for the last time, he isn't my boyfriend. You're changing the subject," he shot the teen a frustrated glare, and if looks could kill, the poor kid would be circled by vultures. "What did you take from Bakugo this time?" Denki looked sheepishly at the ground and revealed a white toothbrush he was previously hiding behind his back. Bakugo snatched the toothbrush from him in one fell swoop and marched furiously back the way he came, muttering curses under his breath as he went. Denki and Aizawa stood in silence for a moment.

"You never denied that you don't hang out with him."

"Kaminari, I swear to GOD." The teen had already taken off towards the commons before Aizawa could properly reprimand him. He grumbled a few curses before making his way to the commons himself. They may have been problem children, but they were his problem children, and he wouldn't trade them for anything. As he came out to the commons, he passed the lounging area where Iida, Uraraka, and Tsu were sitting in front of the TV chatting. He came up to the sink in the kitchen and promptly poured the rest of his coffee down the drain.

It pained him to waste his go-juice in such a manner, but cold coffee was bad coffee, and anyone who drank coffee past 7:00 in the afternoon was doomed to a night with little to no sleep. He grabbed a bottle of dish soap that sat next to the faucet and began handwashing the mug, placing it back into its rightful place with the rest of the mugs in a cabinet above the sink. One of the students had come into the kitchen and began to rummage through the pantry at the end of the kitchen.

"Ashido, you know your limit on snacks. No more."

The pink-skinned alien girl turned to him, her yellow antennae perking up at the sound of his voice. Her eyes were wide, her black sclera making it hard to tell whether he had scared her or not. She had short disheveled pink hair that bristled with every small movement.

"Awww, but, Mr. Aizawa! Just one more," she gave him the puppy eyes, which was fruitless, as it never worked on him. Has nobody yet figured out that he preferred cats? "Pleeeeeaaaaaasssseeeee?"

"No. More. Snacks." She looked away, downhearted.

"Aww, man." She sulked back to the couches where Momo and Jirou were waiting. Ashido shook her head at them and they both simultaneously groaned in shared contempt. He made his way to the front door where a shoe rack sat against the wall. He decided a short walk into the city wouldn't hurt. He grabbed his black slip-on loafers and pulled them over his bare feet. Socks were overrated. He turned to the couches, making sure Iida was still present.

"Iida?" Startled, the blue-haired class rep looked over his shoulder, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, sir?" He stood up at what looked like an officer's attention.

"Keep an eye on the other students for me, I'm going out for a bit," his voice was cold. "I expect this place to look exactly as it does now when I get back, understood?"

"Of course, Mr. Aizawa. My classmates are in great hands!" His hand shot from his forehead to a choppy mid-air stop, then down to his side in a salute. Aizawa rolled his eyes as he opened one of the french doors. Cold wind clashed against the warm air of the dorms for a few seconds, catching him in the crossfire. Against the wall opposite from him stood Kirishima and Kaminari, who were snickering to themselves.

"Hey, Mr. Aizawa, are you going to see your boyfriend?" Kaminari called from across the room. The kid had been on his case ever since the first time he'd seen Present Mic and Aizawa alone together near the end of their first year. Aizawa, ticking with anger, decided to show the dunce-face some mercy and ignored him.

"Just don't burn the place down. And make sure Ashido doesn't get any more snacks."

"Wow, no need to throw me under the bus, Mr. Aizawa."

He waved goodbye and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. He stretched a little, releasing a long-awaited yawn. As he walked through the courtyard, he looked up at the sky. Thin clouds stretched vastly among the endless twilight, motherly eyes twinkling down at him. Fleeting pinks and saturated purples painted the horizon, illuminating the clouds with a beautiful lantern glow.

The courtyard was equally beautiful in its own way. Large hedge walls guarded the dorm's lawn, both front and back, only opening to make way for the entrance path, elegantly paved with concrete stones and set in a complex pattern. Shorter hedges lined the taller ones, giving the area more depth. Along the path were potted thuja trees and metal light poles that stood about as tall as the first floor of the dorms, constantly giving off a misty pine fragrance.

Aizawa made his way down to the entrance to the courtyard, he heard the distant tapping of another person's shoes against the cold concrete. He hesitated for a moment, his first instinct being to hide. People have broken through UA's high-tech security before, there was no telling what could have broken in this time. However, he came at odds with himself as he realized he would have been notified of a situation as such much sooner, and simply continued. As he came out to the main walkway, he saw none other than the loud blonde Hizashi Yamada. His hair was down, falling just below his shoulders in a way that seemed unusually elegant, contrary to his obnoxious personality. His hands rested in the pockets of a leather jacket, which he wore over a white shirt with khaki pants and black pleather boots.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Debby-downer," he laughed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "You never go on walks. What are you doing out here?"

"First of all, I told you to stop calling me that," Aizawa rebuked. "Second of all, I could ask you the same question." His brow furrowed, he joined Yamada and began walking down the walkway together.

"You got tired of filling out injury reports again, I suppose."

"Well, you suppose right," he sighed, placing his hands in the pockets of his pants. "How did you know?"

"I got sick of them, too," he chuckled. "So that makes two of us, huh?"

"I guess so."

"So, how's Shinso doing?"

"He's a fast learner, and he's starting to grasp the concept of what it means to block a punch," he scoffed. "He leaves himself vulnerable, more than I'd like to admit, but he's getting the hang of things."

"I figured as much. He's a good kid," Hizashi kicked a rock away as they came up to the main entrance to the school. "So, where are you headed?"

"The city. I seriously need to get some fresh air."
"Well, you've got company then." Yamada typed in a PIN to a pin pad at the side of the giant mechanical wonder that was the front gate entrance. It was also the only way in and out of the school. The door opened like the mouth of a monster, allowing them to pass. They walked out to the other side where a set of stone stairs led down into the city. Trees and foliage buffed the area a bit more as an extra layer of protection. They made their way down the stairs and eventually out to the street. As they walked down the sidewalk, Yamada admired the storefronts and restaurants.

"So," Aizawa shifted in his skin a little but failed to express it visually. "Kaminari seems to think you're my boyfriend. Care to explain?" Yamada turned his attention back to him, visibly blushing. Soon, he stopped walking and burst into laughter, nearly to the point of tears. Aizawa couldn't help but join in with a small chuckle.

"That kid is nuts. Where did he get that idea?"

"No clue, but apparently we spend a lot of 'bro time' together," Aizawa used air quotes as he mocked the student's voice. "And he tries to pry it out of me like some sort of terrible investigator who purposely annoys you just to get the truth."

"Well, I'm flattered, but I don't think that kid has any method to his madness." Aizawa gave him an overdramatized concerned look.

"Flattered? What's that supposed to mean?" Yamada snickered to himself.

"Oh, nothing. Unless…" He trailed off, a grin slowly creeping over his face. "There are all those times you gave me Valentine's day gifts back when we were in school."

"I thought I told you that I got you those because nobody else would bother giving a narcissist one more reason to boast about himself." Aizawa was hiding the lower portion of his face under his scarf, attempting to hide that he too was blushing.

"Or that one time you took me out on a date."

"It was your birthday." His attitude shifted from tired to astute.

"Or the time you sat on the bus with me on our first day at UA when you could have sat anywhere else."

"I sat with you because you were the only other person wearing a UA uniform on that entire bus."

"Okay, but still," Yamada smirked. "Admit it, you like me."

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Kaminari. Not. A. Chance."

"Sheesh, I get it. I was just messing with you." He nudged Aizawa with his elbow, Aizawa seemingly ignoring it.

What is it with blondes and their all-seeing eyes?

Soon, they reached the inner city, where the streets bustled day and night with people that had no regard for their lives as they crossed the streets with their noses glued to their cell phones. Traffic moved at a grueling pace and blinding lights from every direction advertising things like Mt. Lady's new and improved shampoo and conditioner set. Towering buildings blocked any view of the sunset, and food stands sat in their shadows, most of them as busy as ever in the dead middle of summer. Yamada raced ahead of him and quickly sat down at a ramen stand, patting the stool next to him as he turned to face Aizawa. He rolled his eyes and grumbled as he slowly caught up with him and sat down next to him.

"You know, for a ramen stand, this place has really good ramen." Yamada leaned onto the counter of the stand, his blonde hair falling to one side of his face. The light from the inside of the stand illuminated his face, outlining his somewhat chubby cheeks. A chef came up to them and looked at Yamada.

"What can I get for you?"

"I'll have the Shio ramen, please."

"And you?" He turned to Aizawa. Somewhat panicked, he crossed his arms.

"I'll just have whatever he's having." The chef gave him a nod.

"That'll be two hundred yen." Aizawa reached for his back pocket, seeking his wallet.

Shit. I left it in the dorms.

"No worries," Yamada smiled at him, pulling out his wallet from his jacket pocket. "My treat." Aizawa released a small sigh of relief. As he paid for the food, Aizawa rested his cheek on his hand, observing the other chefs as they cooked. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his front pocket. He pulled it out and read the notification on his lock screen. It was an alert from the police station. Yamada looked over at him.

"What is it?"

"Another villain sighting. This one seems to be going solo, but he's still deemed dangerous."

"What kind of villain?" Aizawa tapped on the notification, entered his password, and opened the full report. A picture of what he first thought was an enlarged booger, with a second glance, was actually a large sludge villain. He turned his phone around and handed it to him. "Woah, he could cause some serious problems."

"I don't see how," Aizawa pulled his phone back. "He seems like just another low-life to me."

"Well, yeah, but think about it," Yamada turned to face him in his seat. "If he's made of sludge, he could easily slip away from a crime. Not much could affect him except for, possibly, an ice quirk. If he doesn't have a physical body, he could take control of another person's body to hide from the view of pros. That means more civilians that are prone to alley attacks. And since he'd need to insert himself into another person's body, that poses the threat of possible deaths."

"I see where you're coming from, and you're right, but do you realize how stupid most villains are? Most of them never plan ahead. They never learn enough about their enemy to have even the slightest chance of succeeding at whatever it is they're trying to achieve."

"Did you forget the first rule our teacher taught us when we began training at UA?"

"What's that?" Aizawa responded with a condescending tone.

"Never underestimate your enemy. Always expect them to have an ace up their sleeve."

"Oh yes, I remember. I'm just being realistic. These villains could actually accomplish something if they didn't drop out of school and choose a life of misdemeanors."

"Heh, you got me there." The chef returned to them with two bowls of ramen and two sets of chopsticks, sliding the bowls over to them.

"You two enjoy it."

"Thank you," Yamada replied looking longingly at the golden bowl of heaven sitting in front of him. He quickly picked up his chopsticks and began eating. Aizawa looked down at his bowl and gave the noodles a subtle sniff before picking up his chopsticks and taking a small bite. "Mmm, vish shtuff ish so good!" Yamada swooned with a full mouth. Aizawa snickered to himself and continued eating his ramen. He had to admit, Hizashi knew good ramen when he saw it.

Soon, the two heroes had finished their ramen and were strolling down the sidewalks of the city, passing alleyways and sub streets where cars wouldn't fit, but were wide enough for street vendors. Aizawa was enjoying the silence when Yamada broke off from him, entering an empty sub street. It was less illuminated than the other streets, the only light sources being back-door lights to back-alley bars and clubs sprinkled about. Aizawa started after him, almost being left behind.

"Where are you going?" Aizawa breathed. He had to jog to catch up to him, and though he'd trained most of his life to fight, running wasn't a strong suit. "I thought we were going to keep walking through the main area."

"Those sidewalks are too crowded," he complained. "Besides, we could try to find that sludge villain before he does any more damage."

"But we have to inform the police that we're taking the case before we do anything like that."
"Already did," he shrugged. "Don't wet your pants, man." Aizawa scoffed.

They turned the corner to another sub street where a segway bridge sat overhead a ways ahead. Yamada seemed hyper-focused on the ground, searching for any traces of slime the villain could have left behind. Aizawa was observing the area ahead when he noticed two grocery bags lying on the ground. Confused, he picked up his pace and crossed under the bridge, picking up the bags. Yamada quickly caught up to him.

"What's that?" Aizawa rummaged through the bags.

"Let's see here… Some clothes, shoes," he pulled the other bag open. "And spilled ramen." Yamada took the ramen bag from him, taking a whiff.

"It's cold but fresh. Definitely bought today," he observed, pulling out a receipt soaked in broth.

"Who would just leave their stuff lying on the ground like this?" Aizawa detested. Yamada looked up and over his shoulder, gasping inaudibly.

"Someone like that." Yamada rushed over to a brick wall with black trash bags in a large pile, seemingly forming the great pyramids of ancient garbage. Yamada knelt onto the ground, and Aizawa quickly realized that there was a limp body in front of him. He rushed over and knelt next to him. Around the same age as his own students, a young teen lied beaten and bruised on the cobblestone path. Dried blood stuck to his forehead, his nose also showing signs of previous bleeding. His face was painted with an overabundance of freckles, his hair a dark shade of green. His left arm was severely swollen with black and blue bruises covering it. The back of his head was matted with blood, an entire pool of it below him being soaked by the concrete.

"Dear God."

"This kid definitely didn't get off without a fight," Yamada remarked. Aizawa looked up at the wall and noticed a large splatter of blood high up on it.

"Look," he pointed. "He must have been thrown at that wall." Yamada was checking the teen for any other injuries and showed his two fingers to Aizawa. They were covered in green slime.

"The sludge villain was here. And by the looks of it, it's been a while since it happened." Aizawa attempted to pick the teen's head up, feeling something warm and sticky. When he pulled his hand back and got a proper looked at it, he gave a panicked huff.

Great. More blood.

"He's still bleeding," Aizawa breathed. "Here- give me your jacket." Yamada nodded without complaint and took off his leather jacket, handing it to him. He folded it sloppily and rested it underneath the teen's bloody head. He took his phone out of his pocket with his less bloody hand and quickly called Iida. As he stood to talk to his student, he looked over to Yamada and mouthed 'Keep pressure applied to his head.'

It was only after two rings that Iida picked up.

"What's going on, Mr. Aizawa? You only ever call me when it's something important."

"I need you to get all the students except for you and Momo out of the commons and into their rooms. If they ask any questions, tell them I don't want them in the way when I get back."

"What's going on?" His voice sounded confident, but a small squeak of subtle fear could be heard between his breaths.

"I don't have time to explain right now. Once you have everyone out of the commons, I need you to get Recovery Girl to the dorms as fast as you can, understood?"

"Yes sir."

And with that, the phone call ended. He put his phone back in his pocket and turned back to Yamada, who was checking the unconscious teen for a pulse. He stood next to him and crouched to his level.

"Is he still breathing?"

"Yeah, he still has a pulse." Aizawa motioned for him to move aside. Then, he picked the teen up bridal style, shifting the kid in his arms until he was comfortable. For a young adult, the poor thing was unusually light.

"Mic, call Nezu and fill him in on the situation."

"Right."

They started back down the way they came, deciding unanimously to take the alleyways all the way back to the school. Eventually, they had made it into the school grounds and ran straight for 1-A's dorm. As they came up to the porch, he noticed Iida and Momo standing outside the door. Iida's head perked up as he heard his teacher approaching. Frantically, he opened the door for them as they passed. Momo let out a small gasp as she saw the frail boy her teacher carried in his arms. The two students followed the teachers inside, closing the doors behind them. Aizawa rushed to the couch and laid the unconscious body down, keeping the jacket beneath his head.

"Iida, where's Recovery Girl?"

"She's taken the day off today."

"Goddammit," he muttered. "New plan; go to my office and look through my desk, there should be a large first-aid kit in the bottom side drawer," Iida simply gave him a nod and rushed off. He turned his attention back to the boy and examined his arm. It was severely broken, and he didn't need an x-ray to figure that out. "Momo, I need you to make a splint for me, can you do that?"

"Oh, yeah!" she pulled her left arm across her chest as a plastic splint emerged from her skin, seemingly out of nowhere. Just then, Iida returned from the hallway carrying a large red rectangular box. He made his way over to his teacher and opened it for him. He looked down at the person lying on the couch as Aizawa took the box from him.

"Thank you. Can you go and tell the rest of the class to stay out of the commons for now?"

"Of course, sir," he couldn't tear his gaze away from the swollen arm or the blood. It sent chills down his spine. He'd seen things like this before but on an innocent person? Aizawa shot him a glance, taking notice of his discomfort. "Do you think he's going to be okay? He seems to be the same age as the rest of us."

"Only time will tell for sure. That's all I needed. Thank you, Iida."

"Right." He made his way back to the hallway, sparing one last look at the boy on the couch before disappearing up the stairs. Momo set down the splint on the ground against the couch and looked down pitifully at the bloodied face of the boy, wishing she could do more to help.

"Mic, grab a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer," Yamada wasted no time. "Momo, you too, you can go with Iida now. And make sure the rest of the class knows there's no danger." Momo didn't respond, but gave him a nervous nod and followed after her classmate. Yamada came back with a bag of frozen peas and knelt next to the couch, holding the bag to the kid's swollen arm. He used the abundance of light to properly observe his arms. He gently twisted the broken arm around until his hand was facing up. He traced his finger up his arm, running over many old and new scars. He looked over to see Aizawa applying gauze to the back of his head. He looked back at the scars on his arm. They seemed uneven like they'd come from a shaky and unsteady hand. They seemed intentional.

"He cut himself." Aizawa stopped for a moment, looking to Yamada with an appalled expression.

"He what?"

"He has self-harm scars up and down the inside of his arms," Yamada gently swiped his thumb over one of the scars, still holding the frozen bag of peas against the swollen section of his arm. "The kid already hates himself and he gets one more reason to feel helpless?"

Just then, the door opened, and a skeleton of a man walked in sporting a large white mouse dressed in formal clothing on his shoulder. The man had unruly yellow hair and a bony structure, basically just walking skin and bones. He looked tired, more than usual, and his blue eyes were glazed with age. The mouse had a dress shirt and waistcoat on, with matching pants and orange shoes, similar to the shoes that their Hoge bore. Azaiwa had begun wrapping a bandage gingerly around the boy's head. The biped mouse hopped off the man's shoulder and walked over to the couch, his paws behind his back in a respectful manner.

"Oh, my," his voice was soft and light. "I expected him to be injured, but why would anyone want to do something like this?" He stood between Aizawa and Hizashi, looking on with pity for the poor child. The man he'd entered with made his way over, expressing slight discomfort with the tension in the air.

"I see you brought All Might along with you," Aizawa glared at the skinny man with disdain. "Nice of you to join us."

"I simply asked him for a ride," Nezu retorted without a shift of tone. Reading his verbal intentions was always a challenge, leaving Aizawa questioning whether he was annoyed or not. "Much appreciated, by the way." All Might gave a nervous huff.

"Heh, no problem," He too, looked on in shock at the kid. "Aw, man, he's really busted up."

"He was attacked by that sludge villain that the police notified us about earlier," Aizawa began, moving closer to Yamada as he began to tend to the broken arm. "He was thrown at the wall with lots of force, so there's a possibility of brain damage. We won't know for sure until he wakes up."

"That's only if he wakes up," Nezu mentioned. "If and when he does, and he doesn't remember certain things, how will we find his family? Or his identity for that matter." Aizawa stopped. He was right. Even if the kid did wake up, there was no guarantee that he'd remember anything. "You really didn't think this through rationally, did you, Eraserhead?" Aizawa continued with a quiet grunt of embarrassment. "Of course, I don't blame you for not planning ahead. You have a big heart, Shota, and I commend you for the work you've done."

"Uhm, if I may," All Might raised his crackled voice a little. "What's going to happen to him once he wakes up?"

"Good question," Yamada mused. "Nezu?"

"Well, since both of you stepped up to the task of bringing him back to safety, you surely wouldn't mind caring for him until he can be returned to his family or taken to the hospital, would you?"

"Sorry, I don't work with loud blondes," Aizawa remarked jokingly. "I've lost enough brain cells that way."

"Oh, come on. That's not how to act, Shota!" Yamada gave him a small nudge with his elbow, a nervous smile on his face.

"Fine, but he goes as soon as we find his family," Aizawa rolled his eyes. "But there's always the possibility that he doesn't wake up. What then?"

"If that ends up being the case, I'll have a friend of mine look into his identity and do some investigating," Nezu placed a paw on the teen's shoulder. "We'd have to contact his family and inform them of his condition as soon as we possibly can. I assume we all understand why he's not being taken to the hospital just yet?" The teachers all nodded in agreement. "Alright, then. Since we seem to have matters settled, I shall be returning to my work. I'll expect updates on his condition daily." Nezu walked back to All Might and climbed back on his shoulder. Together, they departed, leaving the three alone.

Soon, Aizawa had wrapped the boy's arm in a bandage and strapped it into the plastic splint Momo had created. Yamada had retrieved a blanket from his own class's dorm and covered him up. Now, he sat with his legs crossed in front of the boy on the floor, resting his head on the armrest. Aizawa had gone into the kitchen to make a phone call to the police station. Both teachers were tired, the night pushing on to 12:30. Yamada knew he had to go back to his own dorm soon. He couldn't leave his class unattended. He stood up with a sigh, making his way over to the door when, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed one of the students appearing from the hallway.

"Bakugo, you have class tomorrow, go back to bed," Aizawa grumbled. He released an annoyed sigh as he noticed the brown hair of Uraraka appearing after him. "You too, Uraraka." Bakugo shot him a glare.

"You teach class tomorrow. I don't see you going to sleep any time soon." Bakugo quickly made his way to the couch, getting in trouble being the last thing on his mind. Uraraka followed him nervously, more weary of the two teachers.

"What are you two doing? I thought Iida made it clear that I didn't want anyone near the commons." Aizawa stormed after them, Yamada walking back over to the couch as well. Something told him there was more to their actions than either of the teachers realized. Katsuki stopped in front of the couch as he stared at the boy in horror. Uraraka covered her mouth out of shock. Both of their eyes were illuminated with the light of familiarity.

"Dammit," Bakugo muttered. "Just when I thought you were gone for good."

"Bakugo, what are you talking about?" Aizawa stopped next to him and crossed his arms. Bakugo swallowed his urge to scream, to rip the blanket off the boy, and to punch the boy in the gut one more time. His heart was in his throat, the sight of the one person he'd despised tearing him apart in such confusing ways that he just couldn't comprehend. Rage, remorse, animosity. Those emotions violently clawed at his stomach like caged animals. His lips parted as tension tingled in his mouth.

"I know him."

"You do?" Aizawa gazed at him in surprise. "Are you sure?" Bakugo nodded curtly.

"How could I forget the idiot?" he remarked.

"Bakugo, focus. What is his name?" Aizawa placed his hand on his shoulder. The student fell silent. He looked over to the second student. Uraraka looked shaken, tears forming in her eyes.

"I-I just… I just saw him today," she squeaked. "He came to my parent's store today while I was working-" she paused to suppress a sob. "He told me his name was Izuku."

"Did he tell you his last name?"

"N-no, he didn't. I told him I was helping my family out to make ends meet for them, and he said that he'd been doing the same thing. He lives in the same area, but I have no idea exactly where."

"Mic?"

"Already on it." Yamada was tapping away at his phone, searching through the police file database that he'd been granted access to when he'd first become a hero. There was always a file on everybody, whether they'd committed a crime or not. He found exactly one file of an Izuku in that area, and when he tapped on the file, the picture that appeared was a less-bloodied version of the Izuku lying on the couch. Aizawa attempted to dismiss the two students, however, Bakugo stayed, and the tired teacher gave up on trying to fight with him.

"So?"

"I've got it. Izuku Midoriya," he read through the file. "He just turned seventeen today." Bakugo let out a snicker.

"That's one hell of a birthday." Yamada chose to ignore him, while Aizawa backhanded him on the head.

"He doesn't have a father listed here, but his mother's name is Inko Midoriya," he'd opened her file. "She works two jobs and rents a small home just outside the city."

"Are you able to call her?"

"She doesn't own a phone. And by the looks of it, Izuku works at a small fast food restaurant to help her out. He performs at an average academic level, but he never completes projects that require store-bought materials."

"Where do you get that kind of information?"

"It's a comment from his teacher on his most recent progress report. You can access anything from these files." Aizawa furrowed his brows, shooting an annoyed glare at Bakugo, who was still present.

"Continue."

"It looks like he hasn't been to a doctor or a dentist since he was five," concern was slowly spreading across his face like a field gradually being consumed by dandelions. "His mom has a list of evictions, late bill payments, late rent payments… dear god."

"So he and his mom live in poverty. It makes sense that he'd appear at Uraraka's parents' store."

"Yeah, it seems they've been cutting major corners for years. It's like the perfect storm…" Yamada trailed off.

"When can we contact his mother?"

"She gets home from her first job in two and a half hours, then she goes to her second job at 10:00."

"I'll get some officers to head over there tomorrow morning and let her know what's going on," Yamada had started biting his thumb, something Aizawa knew he only did when he was nervous. "Is there something else?"

"Her picture, it just- it doesn't sit right with me. Look," he turned his phone around and showed him the image. The woman had almost hollow cheeks and large bags under her eyes. She was frail and skinny. Her eyes were dull, lifeless almost. Her hair seemed to be falling out in small portions. Any mother in such a state couldn't possibly juggle two jobs and a child at once. This woman was clearly sick and dying, and it was only a matter of time before she kicked the bucket. "She looks worse than All Might. Maybe malnourishment?"

"Jeez, if I didn't know any better, I'd say she's on crack." Aizawa was about to reprimand Bakugo a second time, realizing as he turned that the student had already disappeared back to his bedroom. Yamada put his phone away.

"I should get going." He made his way back to the door and slid his boots back on when Aizawa threw him his leather jacket.

"You might want to wash that."

"Heh, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." Yamada walked out the door, leaving Aizawa and Izuku alone. Aizawa looked down to Midoriya once more.

Don't you dare die, kid. You fought too damn hard for too damn long to give up now.

AN: Whew! That took a lot out of me. I cranked this out right after posting the first chapter, and BOY did I enjoy finishing it today! I got a virtual-learning day off school due to fog, so I took that to my advantage. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed the fluff and angst. Also, this story isn't completely planned, and I do look at reviews, so post what you guys think might happen. And who knows, your ideas could appear in the story!