TW: Implied physical abuse and past addiction, but I tried to keep everything as non-graphic as possible!

lemme know if you think I missed anything 33

Anger

He followed Aizawa inside, the cold wind doing its best to tug him backwards. Izuku shivered, purposefully ignoring the look Aizawa shot him over his shoulder.

Izuku had a feeling this new 'parental concern' thing was going to get very old very fast.

Once they were both inside, the sliding door shut firmly behind them, Izuku immediately had a massive fluffy comforter foisted upon him.

It was warmed from Aizawa's grip, settling around Izuku's shoulders like a cloud. His body relaxed against his will, sinking into the blanket's downy comfort.

This was far from the worst thing in the world, but the sheer expanse of the thing almost caused Izuku to drown in the cheap polyester.

"Put that on," Aizawa said, quickly stepping out of his personal space again. "You should probably shower; your lips are blue."

Izuku prodded carefully at them with his tongue.

Aizawa moved in the corner of his vision, hand pulling back, and Izuku felt his body lock up in response.

Usually it took longer than this, at least a couple weeks, for them to get physical. Maybe Izuku had sped the process along by breaking Aizawa's rules?

Some vague, distant part of him felt disappointed. He'd thought Aizawa might be different, that the man really was as caring as he pretended to be.

He was Eraserhead, after all. A pro-hero. Heroes were supposed to be good.

He didn't realize he'd been squeezing his eyes shut till the older man's voice interrupted his racing thoughts. "What are you doing?"

His jaw clenched where he'd been purposefully relaxing it (it hurt his teeth less when he was relaxed), one eye flying open. "What?"

Aizawa was staring down at him. "What are you doing. Your clothes are soaked. The shower's right up—"

He couldn't take the suspense anymore.

"Aren't you going to give me a consequence?" Izuku interjected. "Or are you the more extreme parenting type? You going to take away my 'screen time'? Ground me?" He laughed, and it sounded a little hysterical, even to him. "Or are you going to—gonna hitme?"

He coughed, wincing at the fearful lilt the words had carried.

Aizawa just leaned back against the counter, his knuckles white where they clenched the marble edge. "I do believe in consequences."

Even though it'd been Izuku who'd suggested the idea, he still felt a chill run down his spine.

This was it. Aizawa was going to hit him or kick him out for the night or. . .

Or worse.

A gust of wind buffeted against the window and Izuku shivered despite the comforter dwarfing him. It would be freezing outside. There's no way he'd survive a night on the streets. "I'm—I d-didn't—" He cut himself off, cursing how his tongue stumbled over the words.

Why couldn't he just be normal?

And through it all Aizawa was still watching him, eyes never leaving his face. "Let me clarify. I do believe in natural, correlative consequences. You broke a rule, because of that you almost hacked up a lung." He shrugged. "Natural correlative consequence."

Izuku studied his feet, the worn red shoes that had a hole in the toe.

"So . . . you're not going to kick me out?"

Aizawa stilled.

Sushi hopped up onto the counter, not paying either person any mind as she began licking at her toe beans.

"I'm not going to kick you out, no. I'm not going to hit you either." Aizawa finally said, apparently recovering from whatever had shocked him silent. "I said correlative consequences and I meant it."

Izuku didn't bother pointing out that a lot of foster parents said a lot of things; few meant them.

Some did.

He'd had a few good houses in the past, kind couples and sweet foster-siblings. Home-baked birthday cakes and second-hand bicycles.

That was before he got older though, before he got labelled as a 'problem'.

"How do I know," he choked out. "How do I know you're not just going to change your mind and—" He made a vague hand motion, hoping the man understood what he couldn't say.

Aizawa was still watching him. It was unnerving, his gaze uncannily similar to that of his cat's.

If Izuku hadn't already been aware of the man's Erasure quirk, he would've thought he had some kind of cat-mutation.

"I guess you can't know for sure," the man said. It sounded like he was genuinely considering the dilemma. A contemplative pause, then, "How about a deal?"

Izuku frowned. "A deal?"

"Yes. I trust you not to smoke, you trust me not to hit you. Trust is a two-lane street; I wouldn't ask it of you unless I was also giving it."

"That's—that's stupid!"

The man slanted an eyebrow at him. "How so."

Aizawa wouldn't like his answer to that question, so Izuku just stayed silent. He'd said too much already.

"Do you want me to hit you?" Aizawa asked, tilting his head. To his left, Sushi mimicked him, ears flopping as she fixed a feline grin on Izuku.

"No, but—"

Aizawa clicked his tongue. "Then I fail to see what the problem is. You don't want me to hit you, I don't want you to smoke. It's only logical that we come to an agreement."

Izuku, for lack of anything better to say, muttered, "You sound like a lawyer."

The man scoffed, tucking his chin into the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. "You and Hizashi would get along like a house on fire."

Hizashi? Izuku frowned. The name was oddly familiar.

"Fine," he spat, "I agree to your deal. Let's shake hands or whatever." He stuck his hand out, trying to stop the trembling of his frozen fingers.

Aizawa glanced at the proffered limb, entirely unimpressed. "Go shower, kid. You look like a popsicle. You're first day of school's tomorrow and I have work, can't have you catching a cold."

Izuku couldn't tell if he nodded or if his neck just tremored, but then, "Work?" He frowned. The words slipped out before he could stop them. "I thought you were an underground hero."

His guardian didn't look annoyed by the question. If anything, his eyes seemed to twitch into a sort of smile. "I patrol at night. During the day, I'm in charge of U.A.'s hero course."

Izuku felt his heart stutter.

Abruptly, that familiar longing blossomed in his chest again. The one that'd had him writing in his Hero Analysis for the Future notebooks and playing heroes in the backyard with Kacchan.

Aizawa was studying him with an odd look on his face, one Izuku couldn't even begin to decipher. "Have you ever considered U.A., Midoriya?"

If his heart had stuttered before, it almost stopped now.

His mind blanked, a blizzard roared behind his ears.

The worst thing about it was that he had considered U.A., back when his mom was still alive.

She'd helped him write out his 'Ten Year Hero Plan!' before he had the coordination to even hold a pencil.

His father would pick him up, zooming Izuku around the house on his shoulders while Inko pretended to be a civilian, trapped under the crushing weight of a few throw pillows.

Izuku would pull the fake-debris off her and get smothered in kisses as a reward. Hisashi would smile, maybe even ruffle Izuku's cowlicked toddler hair.

Afterwards, they'd feast on homemade cookies in front of the TV, watching one of All Might's latest interviews.

Izuku rubbed at the faded cigarette burns on his shoulder, dropping his gaze to the floor. A pit yawned open in his stomach, filled with something he was determinedly going to label as anger. "No," he lied. "I have no interest in UA."

Aizawa leaned forward. His gaze felt heavy. "No? Not even the General Education course? Statistically, UA graduates have a higher chance of getting into their chosen university. You're really not interested?"

"I said no! Why can't you just—" Izuku finally lifted his head only to be met with an intense grey stare.

The man was studying him, eyes never leaving his face. Like he was waiting for something.

Like he was watching something important.

He cleared his throat, settling his gaze on Aizawa's nose. That way he could see the man's face (track his movements) without having to look into those laser-focused eyes. "I can't be a hero, and I can't go to UA. I don't get why you keep—"

"You said can't that time." Aizawa pushed off the counter. "Which is it?"

Izuku sputtered. "Does it matter? Can't go or don't want to go, it's the same thing."

"It's not, though." Aizawa finally stopped approaching, just short of two arm lengths away. Izuku relaxed at the man's distance without even realizing it. "If something is preventing you from going, then I can do my best to fix it. If you don't want to go, then you don't have to. They're two very separate issues, Midoriya."

Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat. Why was Aizawa pressing this so much? Had he not read his file? Had he not seen the damning X-ray on the second page? "I'm quirkless," he finally said into the silence of the kitchen.

He waited for the rejection, the scoff. Maybe even the disgust.

His hand tightened on the railing behind him, body preparing for a hasty retreat in case the man got violent.

Sure, he was a pro-hero, but that didn't necessarily mean he would react well to Izuku basically lying to him this whole time. Just look at Endeavour, he was a pro-hero and he acted like—

"So?"

Izuku whipped around so fast he was surprised his spine didn't snap. "What?"

Aizawa was still staring at him, Sushi mirroring the man's level gaze. "I said, so? It would be hard, sure, and chances are you'd never receive the same limelight status as All Might, but it could be done. Quirks have very little to do with heroics."

"That's not true," Izuku interjected, his caution dropping in favour of dismissing such a ridiculous argument. Quirk analysis was his thing, even if he didn't write about it in his Hero Analysis books anymore. "You're saying any random person the on the street could become a hero? That doesn't make sense, without quirks there wouldn't even be any heroes in the first place."

Aizawa tilted his head at him. "Wouldn't there be?"

Wouldn't there be?

Had the man lost his mind?

Izuku blinked at him, wondering what Aizawa could possible be talking about, when the past words of a well-meaning foster parent surfaced in his mind.

"I know lots of quirkless people that become cops or doctors, heroes of a different sort."

Izuku had only stayed at that house for about a week before getting moved into a temporary group home, but it'd still been one of the kindest homes he'd stayed at to date.

Except, maybe, for Aizawa's.

The verdict was still out, hinging on if this conversation ended with Izuku tossed into the streets.

But is that what Aizawa was saying? That doctors were technically heroes too?

"It's not the same, though." Izuku argued. "Hero society today was designed to counteract villains. Are you saying the average police officer could fight off Chainsaw Man? Or stop a villain from robbing a bank?"

Aizawa smiled slowly. The expression was terrifying; Izuku was beginning to understand why the man usually hid it behind his capture weapon. "If there weren't any quirks, there wouldn't be any superpowered villains. Your average police officer would be able to stop a bank robbery. Is that not the definition of 'heroic'?"

Izuku scowled. "Fine, you don't necessarily need a good quirk to be a hero, but that still doesn't mean everyone nowadays can be a pro. Some people aren't cut out for it, or they're too weak, or they cry too much, or—"

"I never said everyone can be a hero, Midoriya." Aizawa's voice was slow, like he was talking to a child. It made Izuku want to hit something, preferably the man himself.

It didn't matter that Izuku was, technically, a child. He'd stopped thinking about himself like that a long time ago.

"I said that quirks have very little to do with heroics." Aizawa corrected, still smirking insufferably. "Not everyone can be a hero, just like not everyone is 'cut out', as you say, to become an officer or get their medical degree."

"Then how do you know," Izuku said frustratedly. This wasn't making any sense! Strong quirks like All Might's lead to heroics, weak quirks meant living an average life. Right? Right. "How do you know who can become a hero and who can't?"

"Do you want to save people, Midoriya?"

"What?"

Aizawa huffed, like he knew Izuku was being purposefully obtuse. Izuku was, but still. "Do you want to save people?"

Izuku thought of pulling the pillows away from his mom's smiling face, of helping Kacchan off a fence he'd once climbed too high on, of standing between a crying foster-sibling and their angry, snarling foster-parent. Of the way Izuku's lip had split under the man's fist.

Of the starstruck, grateful grin the foster-sibling had shot Izuku afterwards.

"Yes," he whispered.

When he looked up, Aizawa wasn't smiling but his expression was oddly soft. It made him look younger than he usually did. "That's how you know, Midoriya. A person with the potential to be a hero gives that answer and means it."

Izuku's eyes widened, something shifting inside him. It felt like a shattering, or maybe a reconstruction. He wasn't sure yet.

All he knew is that if he stayed here any longer, he was going to cry. And he was a Midoriya, meaning his crying was loud and wet and messy.

The last thing he needed was for Aizawa to see him getting all weepy after the man had just announced Izuku could become a hero.

"Shut up," he snarled, trying to ignore how his voice hiccupped after. "Just shut—shut up."

He staggered toward the stairs, bobbing a quick bow before spinning on his heel and making his way towards the bathroom.

He was angry. Really, really angry.

Anger was easy. Kids who cried got hit, but kids who were angry got left alone. So he was angry, not sad.

Angry.

He was almost at the top of the stairs—almost to the safety of the bathroom—when Aizawa spoke again.

It was quiet, barely audible over the pounding blood in Izuku's ears. "You can be a hero, Midoriya. There's nothing stopping you."

And there they were, the words he'd always wanted to hear.

The words he never had.

Any self-control he'd been excising immediately collapsed, the dam's walls shattering as he almost tripped over the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders and trailing behind him.

He swiped at his eyes, ignoring the wetness staining his sleeve afterward. He managed to squeeze out a quick, "G'night, Aizawa", before he was making his way up the rest of the stairs and closing the bathroom door behind him.

As soon as he was safely out of sight, and as soon as he'd yanked the lock into place, he sagged onto the floor in a crying, heaving mess.

Later, he'll think of how his mom would've been proud of the absolute river he managed to cry onto Aizawa's bathroom floor, but for now he just pulls the blanket around his shoulders and sobs even harder.

Aizawa felt himself sag against the counter as soon as the kid was out of sight, energy rushing out of his body as soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind Midoriya's frantic form.

Sushi rubbed against his palm, like she could sense he needed the friendly contact. She probably could; Hizashi had an ongoing theory that all Aizawa's cats were secretly psychic.

Sighing, he passed a hand over his weary face as he heard the kid start to cry. Loud, echoing sobs that sounded barely concealed by a fist or loose sleeve.

He'd seen it coming, obviously. Seen the wide-eyed, almost dazed look Midoriya had shot him before scampering clumsily up the stairs.

Distantly, Aizawa knew that approaching Midoriya right now would do more harm than good, but a part of him still ached at the thought of leaving the kid alone.

Sushi bopped against his hand where it'd started clenching the counter, knuckles white and bloodless.

"You're right," he said to her. "He doesn't trust me enough yet."

The cat blinked slowly at him, as if to say That's not what I meant, you freaking idiot, but Aizawa just gave her one last scratch under the chin before collecting himself.

(Should he stop projecting onto his cats? Probably).

Just because the kid didn't need him close right now doesn't mean Aizawa couldn't wait for him.

When Midoriya was ready, Aizawa would be there.

Until then, he would stay silent and make sure the kid didn't hurt himself in his hysterics.

The sound of Midoriya's heaving gasps eventually subsided to sniffles, then to silence as the shower turned on and covered up any further sounds.

Heaving one last sigh, Aizawa made his way towards the boy's room. He'd give Midoriya space, but first he was going to make sure the kid had a fresh pair of pyjamas waiting for him outside the bathroom door and a clean towel.

As he gathered everything together, throwing in the brand-new pair of slippers he'd gotten the kid for good measure, Aizawa caught sight of the notebooks stacked under the kid's bed.

Hero Analysis for the Future.

A small smile pulled at his lips as he quickly averted his eyes, pretending not to have seen.

The kid probably hid the books for a reason; Aizawa wouldn't bring them up unless Midoriya did.

He dropped the little bundle of clean clothes and towels off in front of the bathroom door, turning away again when he heard the shower cutting off.

"Goodnight, kid," he whispered under his breath, taking up vigil on the slightly less lumpy side of his apartment's only couch.

He wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, thoughts too full of watery green eyes and winces.

As he stared at his apartment's clock and watched the minutes trickle by, Sushi systematically shredding a pillow apart to his left, Aizawa added a new fact to the mental list he was compiling:

The third thing he learned about Izuku Midoriya is that, at some point, society had told him he was incapable.

And Midoriya, painstakingly, believed it.

(A/N): FINALLY, SOME HEALING

let's all just pretend we didn't notice the chapter count go up yeah? i definitely knew what i was doing the whole time definitely fr fr, if anyone mentions it i'll feed you to Sushi

jkjk...unless 😃🔪