'My arrogance made me see heroics as a simple matter. It is not. Both it and the law I argued must be upheld even at the expense of compassion are messy things. There is rarely any cut and dry answer. Very few are willing to see themselves as anything but the hero of their own story. Circumstance turns many to crime. To simply brand them villains and sentence them to a life in prison solves nothing. I have spent the last five years speaking with many of these villains and their stories are nothing short of mournful.'
—Excerpt from 'Reminiscing on the Final Hour' by Hinata Ononoki.
He is tired when Aizawa finds them, his torso hurting and his face throbbing faintly though whatever painkiller Recovery Girl gave him is still effective; he knows how painful burns and cuts are meant to be and this is a dull echo in comparison. In retrospect, Izuku realises that having someone who knows how to get to the teacher's lounge would have been a benefit. As it was, both he and Tokoyami got lost. Or, perhaps his horrid sense of direction spreads more effectively than a genetic virus.
Aizawa's eyes are redder than usual, not from crying as Izuku is well aware what that looks like, and not because of his powers either. His features are hard and with how little he knows the man, Izuku doesn't know why he moves so stiffly. When he politely tells Tokoyami to change and go home, Izuku is surprised. He expects a lot more anger from Aizawa and much more resistance from Tokoyami.
Neither occurs.
"Are you in any pain?" Aizawa asks as they walk, one hand on Izuku's shoulder to stabilise him.
"No," he says because it is mostly true. At Aizawa's gaze, he adds, "It's nothing I'm not used to."
The hand on his shoulder tightens, then loosens. "I see."
They speak no more until they reach the rather large doors of the teacher's lounge. He finds it funny that he and Tokoyami ignored this hallway twice as being too far out of the way to be the place. When Aizawa doesn't open the door, Izuku looks to him and makes a sound of confusion.
"Midoriya, this is a closed meeting to get your recounting of events. Katsuki Bakugou will not be here."
"B-but don't you need his as well."
"That was taken care of already. We will have questions regarding the incident. But, if there's anything else you want to tell us it will not leave that room."
He shrugs with one shoulder, the other a starburst of agony. "…Okay?"
Aizawa inhales sharply and opens the door. The room is larger than he expects but much more utilitarian than opulent. The seating is functional and looks comfy, but it lacks the grandness the many doors of UA imply with their simple presence. The wall opposite is lined by windows allowing the last warm rays of light in, casting the three figures in orange light—the principal whose name Izuku forgets, and is too fearful to ask for the intelligent glint in his beady eyes remind him of knowledge mortals are never meant to acquire; All Might to whom heroism is as easy as breathing, now lacking his usual electrifying grin; and Recovery Girl who frowns at him from her seat away from the other two, almost as if she isn't an active member of the proceedings.
"Midoriya, my boy," All Might says, seemingly lost for words, and for some reason, Aizawa's hand clenches tightly, not enough to hurt but enough to clue him in on the tension in the room. It is thicker than flesh and feels as though the wrong word will cut through it and splatter them all with the rainbow ichor of gods.
"Perhaps let the boy sit," the principal says in a voice at odds with the intelligence in his eyes. It is too bright and too sincere, and a part of Izuku refuses to believe the principal can be that sane and well adjusted, not when he sees a reflection of the monsters lurking in his mind n the principal's eyes.
Aizawa leads him to a chair near Recovery Girl, using his body to block Izuku's view of All Might. He wonders what happened between the two of them.
It was your fault, the voice groans, almost as if in pain. Izuku finds he wouldn't be shocked If it is true.
Recovery Girl is to his right and slightly beside him, Aizawa to his left and only All Might and the principal sit across from him. He feels at once both surrounded and not in any danger.
"Let me start by saying this is not a formal hearing of any sort," the principal says. "We simply want your accounting of events."
"And your mother will be here as soon as we can get a hold of her," Aizawa adds.
He looks to his teacher. "She p-probably left her phone in the car. She… she does it often."
"This has happened to you before?"
Izuku shrugs heedless of the pain for pain brings clarity. He needs to be sharp and clear as broken glass, and though he is unsure why, this certainty will not leave him.
"Just the few times I've been sick at school before. And don't you have a recording of what happened?"
"We do," the principal says, his pleasant voice grating against Izuku's ears. "But a recording gives little personal context. We cannot know what you were thinking or why you made choices you did."
"Not that we're accusing you," All Might adds, hastily.
"Okay? But, I mean why? It won't change anything."
He sees All Might look away, guilty, but for what Izuku does not know. There is nothing to be guilty of, no action or word this great hero says can ever be reproached. His words are true as the snow is cold and the moon a distant mistress surveying the world indifferently. For All Might to be guilty, then are not all people guilty?
"No, it will not," the principal agrees. "But we still need it to punish Bakugou accordingly."
He frowns, ignoring the way his face hurts from the action. Ignoring things is second nature by now.
"Why? It was an accident."
All Might chokes, coughing. "What part exactly was an accident?" Aizawa glares but All Might continues, "And for that, I apologise. I was too… hesitant to stop the exercise. And I did not fully address Bakugou's issues."
"But what does that have to do with Kacchan getting punished?" he asks, still confused.
The principal hums. "I think I understand. I believe you read the code of conduct for this campus." Izuku nods uncertainly. "Then you should know that deliberately harming a student is grounds for expulsion."
He blinks, stunned. And looks at the teachers. All Might without his smile. Aizawa looking grim and angry and tired. Recovery Girl, still silent, watches him. And the principal whom he can't read.
"Wh-what right," he begins slowly, angry for the first time in months, "do you have to decide he needs to be expelled? I'm the one—me, not you-sitting here in pain and I consider what happened to be an accident. That's just… that's just abdicating whatever responsibility you have to Kacchan."
"We have a responsibility to ensure our student's safety," All Might says and for some reason that makes Aizawa's fists clench. "Our first priority is you."
"And I very much suspect you see this as being your fault," the principal says.
"I'm the one who d-dodged the wrong direction."
The room falls silent and the silence is heavy. There is a weight to it that makes Izuku nervous. All Might looks to him in pure horror and Aizawa looks very ready to strangle his hero.
He blurts out, "Kacchan wasn't even aiming at… me."
That seems to make it worse as Aizawa turns his head, ever so slowly, to look at him. There isn't anything like horror. Instead, this is the pure realisation that the nightmare is true and walks beside you.
He knows that expression all too well.
"You very literally can't see any issue with what happened," Aizawa says. "You even think you're at fault."
"Aren't I?"
All Might shifts. "Izuku, my boy, you've done absolutely nothing wrong."
"We wouldn't be here if that was the case."
Aizawa blinks three times, his expression going through a gamut of emotions before he finally settles on blankness. "We're here to ensure you're safe and kept safe in the future. And… You've read Ononoki?" he asks suddenly.
"Once or twice," Izuku answers.
"What does she have—"
"Do you think heroes are beholden to the law?" Aizawa asks, ignoring All Might completely. "Were I to commit a crime, should I be punished for it?"
"Of course."
"So, if I were to, let's say hurt Present Mic, should I be punished for it?"
"You wouldn't," Izuku says, wondering why Aizawa is giving such ridiculous hypotheticals. He plays along and says, "But Ononki says you should be punished in full accordance of the law."
"Now, let's extend this. What if one student willingly hurt another? Let's say a student taking a gun to school and firing at another student."
He swallows. "They should be puni…" He trails off. "I see what you're doing here. But the circumstances are different. Kacchan's training to be a hero. He didn't want to hurt anyone."
There is a beat of silence, pregnant with equal part horror and fear.
"He threatened you," the principal says heedless of the weight of that silence.
"He d-does it all the time." There is a flash of anger on Aizawa's face and he realises he may have made things worse. "And he was playing… the role of a villain."
"We cannot disregard prior behaviour," the principal says. "Based on reports from your middle school, he showed aggressive behaviour. Specifically, towards you. And from his mother, we are aware he has served community hours for public quirk usage. That is behaviour unbecoming of a hero."
"And you somehow think-no, you… you expect him to learn to be a hero if you just kick him out? So why did he let him come in the first place?"
"Your safety, and that of other students, is our priority," All Might says.
He looks to his hero, feeling betrayed. "You know, you told me you dislike Ononoki because her views would see anyone who made a mistake go to jail. What did you say? That it breeds resentment. So how can you say that to me and then decide Kacchan should be expelled."
"That was different."
"How? You called me out on the same hypocrisy." He looks to each of the people in this room, meeting their gazes even if he does flinch away from the principal.
"I know Kacchan better than anyone else," he continues. "And I know that above all else he wants to be a hero. And by expelling him you're failing him."
Aizawa sighs. "There are consequences to every action."
"Then you're also failing me. If we can't be kind and forgiving to others, then what's the point of even trying?" He shakes his head, looking to the ground. "Kacchan sees the world as one fight after another. And maybe that's unhealthy but that can be helped. And seeing the world like that is why he has more drive than anyone else. He wants to be a hero and so he will. Everything and everyone else is just an obstacle to that goal."
"Drive and ambition are no excuse for his actions. If anything, they make things worse."
He refuses to cry even though his eyes are burning. Why won't they listen to him? Why can't they see what he sees in Kacchan?
Why do you lie for him? The voice asks. Izuku ignores it.
Izuku looks up and meets the principal's heavy gaze, a gaze filled with knowledge forbidden to mortals. "If in ten years he becomes a villain will you accept responsibility for that?"
The principal stays quiet, holding his gaze as if searching for something. He hums after a moment.
"Are we responsible for all the actions a person takes in their lives? That seems like something only a god could reasonably do."
The gods are dead, and their corpses dream within you.
"We're not," he answers. "But we're responsible for our own actions. If you know how to help someone, and you have the power to do so, then you're responsible for what happens to them."
"That is a heavy burden to carry," All Might says, weary in a way Izuku has rarely seen.
"If we don't carry it then who will?"
The door opens. Izuku looks and sees a woman he's never seen before. And behind her is his mother. She walks regally, her face a mask of tightly controlled anger, and doesn't even look to the teachers—he pays attention to the way she ignores them, as though they are not worth a moment of her time, in the event he needs to ignore something the same way. He offers her a smile, regardless of how much it hurts.
"Izuku," she says flatly. He shifts warily because her anger is terrifying, even if not directed at him.
Aizawa's fists clench in the corner of his vision.
"Hi, Kaa-san," he says nervously, swallowing thickly.
Only now does she look at the others in the room. She pauses for a second too long on All Might, her lips curling in disgust, before settling on the principal.
"Principal Nezu," she says icily, shocking him because he wasn't certain she knew anything about UA. "I want an explanation and for the sake of your school, I sincerely hope it is satisfactory.
-TDB-
Inko Midoriya is not a woman prone to anger or rage or hate. The outside world passes her by and she watches it occur indifferently. In her younger years, she was wild and fun and lucky to not have been arrested a few times over for milking casinos dry. But as years went on, her relationship with Hisashi evolved and she became calmer, more dignified and compassionate. The birth of her son made her change very much of who she was—no longer could she be so carefree. If nothing else, she would raise her son right. And in the deepest pits of her mind, where she hides the things that will hurt her, she knows the woman she once was could not have raised a boy to be anything more than a dreg of humanity, and if that boy did become someone worthy of society, it would be in spite of the person she once was, not because of that young woman without a care in the world for anything but money and a high that came only from conning someone; a high that at first seemed forever but is in truth transient and fleeting.
When Hisashi went abroad for business, her warm and brilliant son became her world. He was, and still is, the anchor to which she was grounded to this reality. For him, she will accept any pain. It is her duty as a mother, one she will perform gladly. The pain of watching a child grow and walk their own path is profound, for one day he would reach an age where her support will be unnecessary. But, no matter the heartache of her son leaving, knowing he is safe and strong, and above all, a person of strong moral character is worth every iota of pain.
And she will do anything to see him make it to that age. She accepted without question that Izuku spoke the truth of his quirk for when had he ever lied to her? He kept things but not out of malice. Forgetfulness, yes, and sometimes the secrets were not his to tell. Staying awake with him long into the night as the monster he ran from tormented him is easier than breathing, and the exhaustion that follows the next day is no burden. Nothing will ever be a burden when it came to Izuku.
For him, she will be strong. She was kind and gentle when he needed it. But more and more, over these last few months, was she starting to understand that she needed to be strong in a way only Hisashi could be. And the thought of her husband brings a profound sadness for he was always the strong one, the implacable man despite his mild disposition.
Age made her plump. It is hard falling into a routine of exercise once more. The bones are old and pained, the nerves slow and damaged. But she has to match Izuku more now. Once a week, when he is busy and out of the house, she calls up an old friend and dons her dusty boxing gloves. She isn't stronger in any noticeable way, would not be winning any fights. But her quiet strength makes Izuku stand taller and that is enough.
It has to be.
She can never forget his shock when she showed him the strength of her quirk and holds that memory tight. There had never been a need to train it much. She had no desire to be a hero. Now, though, lifting weights with her quirk is trivial. She is only now learning how to use it offensively. It is a struggle to do more than tear a paper in half by directing her power in opposing direction. But she is patient, and she knows that strength will come in time.
That patience is the only reason that she. Does not. Rage.
Her son who is the earth and moon and sun and stars all at once, her son who is terrified of the dark but perseveres regardless, her son whom even All Might acknowledges, her son to whom her love knows no depths, her son is injured.
And she hates how only now she receives the voicemail. She hates that she left her phone in her car and never got the call. She hates how she never once bothered putting her work contact on Izuku's application form because when wouldn't she have her phone on hand?
Above all, she hates that her son is alone and hurt and she isn't there to do anything to comfort him.
She enters the hallowed grounds of UA, the first amongst equals in Japan, and internationally recognised as one of the greatest alongside Hero Memorial Academy in Zimbabwe and Toledo Research Institute in Spain, and all the other great halls of learning. She knows the rigorous difficulty of entering the academy, not least the written portion of the exams which tests a broad spectrum of knowledge across all disciplines—and even those who ranked lowest but were accepted still stood at the top one percent of the country—but also the physical exam that weeded out so, so many.
She is proud her son entered the school. But she always fears for him. Even if UA is nothing like the monsters she sees lurking in her son's shadow, she has feared what would become of him. Now, her fears have rung true.
A lady in simple business attire greets her, polite, sympathetic and aggravating in equal measure. She offers no answers when Inko asks, deflecting the questions or using her position as a mere secretary to say silent. It is this that worries her more.
The school is quiet and near empty. There is a gaggle of students at the base of the stairs: a red-haired boy, a stern looking one, and one with a tail; and three girls, one whom she recognises as Uraraka immediately, a purple-skinned one, and one who looks similar to a frog. She would pay them no heed but for the red-haired boy who very suddenly breaks off from the group and walks to her nervously. She pauses and waits for him, softening her features.
"Ummm, Mrs Midoriya?" he asks nervously.
She offers him a smile, watching some of the tension bleed from his posture. "And you would be Kirishima?" She watches his eyes widen, and his friend's look at her in shock. "My son has spoken of you often. Shouldn't you be a home? All of you."
She is still a mother through and through.
"Ma'am, we just… I-I just wanted to apologise." He closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath. "We tried to tell them not to pair them up. I couldn't convince them."
She raises a brow. "Who exactly?" she asks, not unkindly. But she needs this information.
The boy swallows. "All Might, ma'am. He was the one conducting the exam."
"I see." She does not let her anger shine through. "Kirishima. Ojiro. Uraraka. Forgive me if the rest of your names escape me at the moment, but none of you are responsible for what happened. I promise you that I'm not angry with any of you. And I know my son is not as well. So please, go home before you worry your parents."
Her gaze hardens now, and she watches the children shift nervously. Good, they all knew exactly how worried their parents will be. She waits patiently as they walk past, some wanting to say something but her hard gaze stops them.
She sighs and allows the useless secretary to take her through the schools. The overly large doors give her pause only once before she decides they are ornamental rather than functionally designed to suit particularly large students. It sours her already dim view of UA.
At the teacher's lounge, she walks past the secretary without waiting. The room is suitably large and the orange light strangely fitting. But none of the furniture matters so much as her son.
Her heart breaks for a second. There he is, bandaged heavily, particularly around one side of his face and neck. And from the bulges in his jacket, he is undoubtedly bandaged just as heavily. His visible features are bruised and lightly scratched. The grief she feels almost breaks her right then and there.
Then she hardens her heart. Kindness can come later when they are lone and in private, not now when her boy is surrounded by people far older and more experienced than him. She walks towards him, not once glancing at the others.
"Izuku," she says, cold and sharp as a sword in ice.
She watches him shift warily. Good, he knows they would be having words later. "Hi, kaa-san." Only now does she see the partly clouded expression in his gaze. Painkillers, the high-grade kind that didn't leave someone confused and tired. But the fact that he could answer as calmly as he did is enough for her to trust he would heal, eventually.
Hopefully.
She looks around the room: a short old lady in fake hospital attire focused almost entirely on Izuku, likely Recovery Lady or whatever her name was; a scraggly looking man with thick fabric threads around his shoulders staring at her with well-hidden hostility, but the tension in his body gives him away; All Might who's larger than life visage makes her lips curl in disgust for a moment, for how could this man who wishes to train her son, without so much as a word of explanation, as a successor fail him; and the rodent-like creature whose eyes are more intelligent than any she's ever seen, and who would intimidate her on any other day in any other situation.
"Principal Nezu," she says coldly, and without a single hint of her usual compassion. "I want an explanation and for the sake of your school, I sincerely hope it is satisfactory."
His smile is placating. Not for a moment does she believe it. This creature holds too much knowledge for her to consider him anything less than a worthy enemy.
"Would you perhaps like a seat?" He stares pointedly at Izuku's homeroom teacher.
The man stands and offers her the seat. Inko very nearly snarls because she knows this tactic and hates how well the rodent outmanoeuvres her. Saying no makes her look emotionally distraught and impolite. Both things you never wanted to be branded as a woman.
So, she accepts the seat, nodding once to the principal. She interlaces her fingers with Izuku. A united front is what they will show to these enemies. Her house is not divided, and they will not fall alone.
Together, perhaps, but never alone.
"I would like an explanation much more."
All Might coughs, drawing their attention. "It was an exercise to simulate heroes infiltrating a villain's hideout. Unfortunately, one of the students used excessive force."
"And who, exactly, is this student?"
"Katsuki Bakugou."
She grips Izuku's hand tighter. "Katsuki Bakugou…"
"Kaa-san, it wasn't his fault."
There is so much pain in his voice. It quavers two octaves lower than usual, the beautiful harmonies that bring her joy discordant or outright missing. Perhaps to anyone else, he is calm and composed. She is not anyone else.
"Izuku, keep quiet," she says without looking at him. "I want to know why you thought that pairing my son against Katsuki Bakugou was an acceptable decision."
"We could not have predicted what happened," the principal says, "and whilst that does not absolve us of the blame for we could have done more, we did not plan this or wish for this outcome."
"I very much think you were aware of the dangers." She looks to All Might. "Did one of your students not warn you against this?"
All Might tenses. She expects him to lie or deflect for a moment. "Yes, he did. What happened was a result of negligence on my part. And I sincerely apologise."
That, at least, lessens her hostility somewhat. "Thank you," she says for she is not pettiness. "And what will happen to Bakugou?"
"Expulsion was our original intent," the principal says. "But circumstances are making us realise we may not have that option available."
She closes her eyes. Stills the building rage. Says, "You understand that I'm fully within my rights to sue both your institution and press charges against Bakugou."
"Kaa-san," Izuku protests, "You can't do that."
"Why not? You're a minor who's just been assaulted. And I'm your mother."
"He's a good person."
"Good people don't do bad things. Like bullying someone for years." It is a guess, nothing more. The openness between mother and son is a recent development, one brought on by Izuku's quirk.
His hand clenches and the flare of pain reminds her just how strong her son is. But other than that, one indicator, his body and features are calm.
"He can be a better person. He made a mistake, but he doesn't deserve to be punished for it."
Principal Nezu clears his throat. "And this is part of the problem. Izuku absolutely believes that Bakugou did no wrong."
She stares at her son, really stares at him. And she understands that he is not as sane as he once thought. Inko has seen him at his worst, gibbering in the language of dead gods—and now she can speak to birds and spiders and hear their oddly complex speech—and moments away from breaking under the strain of the knowledge he found in the murky black of madness. She knows it affects him from his very sudden fear of spiders to the way he finds death to be a trivial matter.
But now, she sees there is something fundamentally broken with her son.
"The law says crimes must be punished," she begins slowly, almost hesitant. "I know you believe full well in the law. Villains should be punished. Attacking another person with a quirk is a defining characteristic of a villain."
"It was a training exercise. I d-dodged in the wrong direction."
She inhales sharply. "Was Stormwind a villain?" she asks suddenly.
Izuku frowns, then winces in pain. "Of course. She killed people and… she made herself a dictator."
Good. At least her son still has a sense of morality she can understand. "She did free Europe. Some call her a liberator and hero."
"But she killed people."
"Some would argue her good outweighed her bad. So, should she have been allowed to continue out of popular opinion."
He shakes his head. "She needed to be stopped regardless of what people thought."
"And shouldn't Bakugou be stopped before he hurts someone else, regardless of what you think?"
His eyes widen. "W-what, no. That's no—"
"It's exactly the same," she interjects, "in concept. One person performs good and evil deeds. Someone says their good outweigh their bad. The law which is above human opinion says they should be punished and thus we follow the law."
She seems him pause and mull her words over. This is the type of argument she knows he responds to. It always has been. Though she does wonder why he doesn't stutter as much. Perhaps the medication? Perhaps his love for everything to do with quirks?
"But the law should have compassion, right?" Izuku looks to All Might who sighs.
"And are you not worthy of having that same compassion extended unto you?"
Izuku blinks, confused. "But I'm here. I'm not the one who might be expelled."
"No, you're the one who was hurt and needs to protected," his homeroom teacher says, speaking for the first time. "And I believe you need to be protected from yourself more than anyone else."
There is a weight to his words that eludes her. A secret, maybe, and one that makes her angry at him for her looks to her near the end of his words, as if to say 'except you'. And that bothers her more than anything else.
"Izuku, why are you arguing for him?" she asks.
"Because he's worth it. If I can forgive him why can't you?" The question is childish and even Izuku flushes with embarrassment.
"Because you would probably forgive someone who killed you," she says sharply and watches him sink lower into his seat. "Right now, I don't think you're capable of making healthy decisions."
"Young Midoriya," All Might says. "You have a big heart, larger than anyone else. But you are deserving of the same help you argue young Bakugou should receive."
"I-I'm f-fine."
"No, you are not," the Nezu says finally. "You have no concept of self-worth and that is not the kind of mentality UA wishes to foster. It is not the sort of behaviour we are willing to permit."
She frowns, trying to see the subtext to his words. It is All Might's soft gasp that makes it click.
"Are you threatening to kick my son out? After your complete failing." She doesn't care that Izuku whispers her name softly, pleadingly. "I should sue you on principle alone."
"Suing the school," the homeroom teacher says suddenly, almost threateningly, "would involve a lengthy investigation on both sides. Izuku would have to go through a full examination and a quirk evaluation. Hard questions would need to be answered about his life prior to this."
That makes her clench Izuku's hand tighter because she shares the same terror of what would happen should his quirk be discovered. "That sounds very much like a threat."
"You'll have to forgive Aizawa," the principal says. "And perhaps I phrased my words wrongly. We would simply like Izuku to undergo counselling with the school to deal with his mentality."
"There's nothing wrong with me."
She smiles falsely. "Izuku, stay silent." She looks to the headmaster. "I take it this is mandatory if Izuku remains at this campus."
"It would be."
"I think we can survive a lawsuit." He inclines her head, regal as a queen, and levels another threat. "Shiketsu would love to have him."
"Kaa-san," Izuku says, terrified if his strong grip is any indicator. "It's fine. It's just a regular counsellor, right? Not a quirk counsellor." He's looking at All Might, not her.
The man's expression clears. "I believe that can be arranged if you would feel more comfortable."
Izuku looks to her, still terrified but mildly less so. "Please. If there's one thing you ever do for me, please let it be this."
-TDB-
Shouta Aizawa watches the proceedings clinically, but not detached from emotion. His anger rises at the coldness Inko Midoriya displays towards her son, and the displeasure she has seems less like concern for her son and more outrage that they had the audacity to call her here. The only positive is that she recognises her son needs help, even if she hadn't wanted to allow him to go for counselling—and Izuku's sheer terror at the idea only makes his personal anger worse.
At least Nezu had dissuaded the woman from suing the school. Somehow.
The matter of Bakugou would still have to be dealt with. Right now, at the very least, the boy would be suspended for the next few weeks.
His official record will forever have a sealed red order on it, one that will be severe and restrictive. It was the only way they could Inko Midoriya to agree. And whilst they will need a judge to process it, UA has a reputation that made doing this easily. Depending on the judge, if Bakugou infringes on the red order, then he could retroactively be charged with assault against Izuku.
Regardless of what happens, so long as Bakugou chooses to return, Aizawa has a responsibility to him. Sending him off to the counsellor twice a week wouldn't be enough, not since Izuku unwittingly explained how the violent brat saw the world. Or threatened them with the possibility of Bakugou becoming a villain.
They aren't even a chunk of the term in, and these brats are causing him more stress than he deserves. When the meeting is done, Aizawa offered to walk her to the car. Before they leave, Recovery Girl speaks for the first time.
"You're going to be in a lot of pain come morning," she says. "I've had your medical supplies sent to your home. Take the painkillers first thing when you wake each day." She looks to Aizawa then and nods before leaving.
They walk in silence, even Izuku though he looks more focused on not tripping. It bothers him that his mother doesn't even offer him a hand to help him walk.
At the elevator she stops and says, "Izuku, why don't you walk ahead."
The boy wants to protest but his mother's gaze is hard and unyielding, and he quails beneath it. "Okay."
She waits until the boy is in the elevator and its gone down a floor before speaking again. "What, exactly, is your issue with me? Because where I stand, the only person who should have an issue is me."
"I have an obligation to my students," he says, tone level, "one which we failed in today. But I still have a duty to keep Izuku safe in the future. From any dangers."
She looks startled, her cold mask slipping. "Good. We have—"
"That includes you," he says bluntly, interrupting her.
It takes her a moment to register exactly what he said. And then she's red, whether, from shame or guilt or something else, Aizawa does not care.
"He's come to school injured and terrified more than once. He even claims he tripped after we gave him a quirk assessment form."
"He did."
"Which is illogical in the face of Izuku's combat skills. Accidents are a common excuse for people who intentionally hurt themselves." He tilts his head. "And for people in abusive situations."
That sets her off, her stance shifting as though ready to fight. Not that Aizawa is worried. They have cameras placed everywhere, even if they don't record audio.
"Don't you dare accuse me of that," she snarls. "Not when my child is going to be scarred forever by what your school did."
"And he'll be scarred further with you."
She blinks very slowly, and he watches the tension leave her frame. "I would ask that you keep baseless accusations to yourself." She takes a deep breath. "And if you don't then I'll take you to trial, not least for slander. And no matter what you think, the media is absolutely going to love knowing such a prestigious institution threatens students with expulsion to keep them quiet."
"We never—"
"The media and the people will not care. Especially not when a teacher is threatening me with silence through baseless accusations of abuse to keep me quiet. Me, a single mother who raised a child that entered UA against the odds." She smiles cruelly. "I could care less what you think, Aizawa. But if you so much as fuck up with Izuku again, then I'll see to it that UA is nothing more than a monument to failure."
She turns and walks away, her footsteps thunderous. He watches her walk down the stairs and reach Izuku. They exchange a heated set of words before she's grabbing Izuku by the arm and practically dragging the boy. His fist clench in anger as he watches the scene.
"That was reckless." He looks over his shoulder and sees Chiyo looking more than a little disappointed. "And brash. Not logical in your words."
"I needed confirmation," he says, hating how hollow the words sound.
She huffs. "And you think you have it now?"
"She practically confessed to it. And threatened us as well."
"Only after you threatened her. Aizawa, there is a reason we follow rules and regulation. An unkempt man partly responsible for her son being harmed is now threatening her with charges of abuse. You are a hero and a teacher at UA. You're in a position of power and trying to silence her. She reacted as anyone would under that circumstance, with the only weapon she had over us."
He frowns. "So, you think we should have kept quiet."
"I think you're emotional and not looking at this logically." She sighs. "Becoming attached to your students is a good thing but not right now. Because as it is, we can't go to the authorities as we should have done without a media war we would lose."
"We're telling the truth. We need to help him."
"Aizawa!" she snaps, silencing him. "You might be angry with All Might for undoing whatever we were working towards, but you've just put a mountain between us helping Izuku. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to explain this situation to Nezu. Then you're going home to sleep, have a bottle of something, and so help me I will call Hizashi to drag you home if you don't. And only then will we make a plan that is both legally and ethically sound. Do you understand me, Aizawa?"
He takes a breath and lets the angry haze fade slightly. "Fine."
"I swear you're still a child."
A/N:
You may, perhaps, be wondering why I posted this chapter 6 days early. Just know that it is an apology to someone because I believe actions matter much more than intent. You will still get the next chapter on Thursday. This will not interrupt the usual schedule. Ultimately, this doesn't matter to you without context so just accept an extra chapter early.