parallaxis by yamadadzawa (liarielle)

by alkhuzamaa

It’s not possible that he was in last place. And if Aizawa-sensei was willing to tamper with his score on the quirk test, then he’s probably willing to do the same with Izuku’s grades. And if Aizawa-sensei is willing to do it, the other teachers at Yuuei probably are too.

Izuku is forever grateful for the timing of their study period, and the fact that as long as they're quiet and actually doing work, Aizawa-sensei doesn't really care if they do their studying in groups. He always gives their tests back right before study period starts. For some of his classmates, Izuku knows this probably feels cruel. A whole period to sit and wallow in grade fueled grief. But for Izuku, it's perfect.

With a careful eye on Aizawa-sensei (always a careful eye) to make sure he's not paying attention, Izuku makes his way over towards Iida's desk, swapping seats with Kirishima like usual. Iida smiles in greeting, and Izuku beams back at him, scooching the desk over so they can lay their tests out side by side. They scored pretty close on this one, so Izuku doesn't feel as awkward doing this as he usually does.

Izuku knows Iida still doesn't quite understand what exactly Izuku is doing. He's told his friend that he sometimes has trouble reading their senseis' handwriting, so he just wants to check his wrong answers to make sure he's reading their corrections properly. It's an innocent enough explanation, it just... doesn't really make sense. Not with their senseis all having pretty decent handwriting. Even on essays, Izuku never actually has trouble reading corrections.

He just...he needs to check. He has to.

Even through the haze of panic, the feeling of glass in his lungs and throat as he struggled to breathe when he saw his name in 20th place at the end of the quirk test, Izuku still knew one thing with brutal clarity.

It's not possible that he was in last place.

And it's not, Izuku isn't in denial. He knows he's ten years behind his classmates, he knows he still doesn't have a handle on his quirk, he knows that it's very probable and becoming more and more likely that All Might made a mistake giving him One for All. He knows.

But his score on the ball throw alone should have at least put him above Hagakure, Jirou, and Kaminari. They'd all scored decently on other tests, but so had Izuku. Sure, his strength in the grip test couldn't beat Shouji's, but he knows he scored higher on that than Jirou. And he was slightly faster than Uraraka for the 50 meter dash. He didn't do amazing on the other tests, but with the ball throw and his okay performance otherwise...

It's not possible that he was in last place.

Which means that Aizawa-sensei tampered with his score. And it's, Izuku doesn't understand. He'd thought...it's not the first time he's dealt with this. Since grade school, more than half of his teachers have graded him lower than he actually earned. Marked answers as wrong when they were actually right, and given him wrong information on corrected answers to trap him in a loop of never getting the right answer to begin with.

It didn't take him long to realize that's what was happening. Izuku couldn't do anything about them tampering with his grades, but he could at least make sure he knew what the right answers were so he was still learning. He taught himself how to analyze quirks, it wasn't really anything new to have to teach himself everything else too.

But Izuku just thought...that was supposed to be because he was Quirkless. He's not anymore, so he doesn't, he thought it would be different now. He thought teachers would see him like they always saw Kacchan.

Izuku doesn't think Aizawa-sensei knows he used to be Quirkless. There shouldn't be any way for him to know. So it must just be Izuku that Aizawa-sensei doesn't like. And it's, sure, it's not a fun realization. But Izuku gets it. Honestly, Izuku is having a harder time grappling with the idea that Iida and Uraraka and the rest of his friends do like him. So realizing that Aizawa-sensei and the rest of his teachers, past and present, most likely dislike him isn't that strange.

And if Aizawa-sensei was willing to tamper with his score on the quirk test, then he's probably willing to do the same with Izuku's grades. And if Aizawa- sensei is willing to do it, the other teachers at Yuuei probably are too. It's a lot of probablys and no guarantees, but Izuku will work with what he's got.

Hence his now established practice of checking his graded work against Iida's. Even though Iida doesn't seem to believe his flimsy excuse about handwriting, he must have come to the conclusion that it's not against any rules, and it's not doing any harm, so he's willing to help Izuku out. Iida really is such a great friend!

Izuku finishes checking the last page of his test against Iida's, and like the last several times, he's left utterly confused. All of his answers marked wrong were actually wrong, and all of the corrections Aizawa-sensei left him were right. On the answers he and Iida both got wrong, their corrections match exactly.

And it's not just this test, or just Aizawa-sensei. All of his tests and essays have been like that so far. There's a thought nagging at the back of his mind, one that Izuku tries not to entertain if he can help it, that says that it's because he was wrong about Aizawa-sensei and his other teachers. It's louder now after the USJ. After...

Aizawa-sensei wrenching his eyes open to save As— Tsu, despite the massive hand clamped around his head and the blood pooled around him.

Aizawa-sensei throwing himself into the fray of villains, reassuring them that he had it handled even though he had to know he didn't, just so they wouldn't be as scared.

Aizawa-sensei practically swimming in bandages, definitely back too soon to prepare them for the Sports Festival.

After all of that, it's getting harder for Izuku to silence the thought that maybe, maybe he can let his guard down. Maybe things are different now.

But the probablys outweigh the maybes, and Izuku can't afford to trust.

--

Midoriya Izuku is a confusing conflicting mess of mixed signals and inconsistencies. Shouta has been trying to puzzle him out since day one. Since the entrance exam itself, if he's being honest.

There's part of Shouta that's pretty certain he's figuring him out, even if the answers don't quite make sense. It's not usually the bright and bubbly types with powerful quirks that end up bullied or abused, but that doesn't mean it never happens. Shouta's own husband is the textbook example. Most people would look at Yamada Hizashi, at Present Mic, and assume he's always been well liked, that people have always seen his quirk as something heroic and exciting. Others, like Shouta, know better, know that Hizashi spent years in a muzzle that left scars he covers with makeup.

Shouta frowns, glancing over where Midoriya is seated with Tenya, the two of them hunched together looking over their tests. He hates to do a wellness check so close to the Sports Festival when tension and stress are already so high, but Shouta doesn't want to wait any longer.

The bits and pieces Shouta has managed to catch when the kid is talking to his friends paint a picture of a supportive and loving mother, and Shouta is inclined to believe it. But he'd like to know for sure before he turns his attention to Midoriya's old schools to dig for evidence of bullying. If Midoriya's mother is abusing him, he'd rather know now and get the kid out sooner rather than later.

As much as he does think Midoriya Inko is what the kid says she is, it would unfortunately make sense if she wasn't. The kid clearly has issues with adults. His stutter is most likely to make an appearance when he's talking to an adult, and Shouta has definitely noticed the careful distance Midoriya puts between himself and adults, and the way his eyes track hands and check for exits.

So yeah. Better to check now and know for sure. Shouta groans quietly as he pushes himself up to stand, cracking his back and sighing as the bell rings to release his demons off to lunch. Normally he'd stay lounging in his sleeping bag until the kids are all cleared out, but he needs to catch Midoriya now to verify his mother's schedule. The kid has a tendency to disappear at the end of the day.

Shouta heads in that direction, lazily but with purpose, and catches the tail end of Midoriya and Tenya's conversation.

"—sure that nothing is wrong, Midoriya-kun?" Tenya is asking, frowning and shifting only slightly, the way he does when he's unsure of himself, afraid of overstepping but wanting so badly to help.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise!" Midoriya waves his hands frantically.

"You always seem so on edge when we do this, I simply thought—" Tenya finally spots Shouta, a bit of a flush blooming on his cheeks. "Ah, sensei!"

Just this once, Shouta wishes for less situational awareness from his students, because the second Tenya says those words, Midoriya...well. There's no better way to say it really. It's like a door slamming shut, the way his expression shutters into something practiced and careful. He's smiling, sure, and he's hiding it well, but Shouta has practice picking apart body language and expressions. Something twists at his stomach when Shouta identifies the dread and genuine fear in Midoriya's eyes.

Shouta nods in greeting to Tenya, then turns his gaze to Midoriya. He does his best to keep his voice level and non-threatening, but he's not sure he succeeds. "Midoriya, stick around for a few minutes."

"Sure, sensei," Midoriya replies, looking betrayed by his own words. "I-I'll see you at lunch, Iida-kun."

Tenya looks between them, eyebrows pinched together, so Shouta jerks his head towards the door. "Go on, Iida. I won't keep Midoriya long."

Tenya's reluctance to leave is a testament to how much he wants to be a good friend, his desire to make sure Midoriya is alright battling against his respect for Shouta, both as a teacher and an uncle. The latter finally wins out, and he pauses only to awkwardly pat Midoriya's shoulder before he leaves the classroom.

It's just the two of them then, and Shouta can't help but notice Midoriya's slight wince when the door clicks shut.

"What, um," Midoriya pauses and swallows, fidgeting nervously. "What did, did you need, sensei?"

Shouta spares only a brief moment to weigh his options, considering whether he should start with asking about Midoriya's conversation with Tenya, or about his mother's schedule.

"Relax, kid," Shouta says once he's made his choice, slouching to lean against one of the desks. "You're not in trouble. I just wanted to ask about your mother's schedule. Principal Nedzu has us giving parents some follow-up calls after the USJ. I'd like to make sure I call when she's not at work."

It's the simplest lie Shouta could think of to avoid spooking the kid, and he's glad for it when some of the tension leaves Midoriya's shoulders with a quick exhale.

"O-Oh, yeah," Midoriya nods, curls bobbing with the motion. "Okay. Um, I'll text her during lunch to double check her shifts this week and get, uh, get it to you at the end of the day. I can, I can write it down?"

"Sure," Shouta agrees easily. "That's fine."

"Right!" Midoriya grins, wobbly and nervous. "Is that, is that all? Sensei?"

Again, Shouta weighs his options. It's probably best to let the kid go, but he does seem less nervous. So Shouta hums and tilts his head. "Just one more thing. What were you and Iida talking about when I came over?"

And, fuck, that was a mistake, that flash of dread and fear is back. But it's too late now, so Shouta eyes Midoriya carefully and waits.

"Oh," Midoriya squeaks. "Um, really sensei, it was nothing! It, we were, I was just—Iida-kun and I, I mean. I was just comparing." At Shouta's raised brow, Midoriya waves his hands and frantically continues. "Not grades! I wouldn't, I'm not, just answers. To, to see, um. So Iida-kun can help me, um, check my answers."

Shouta frowns, just barely keeping his typical scowl of confusion at bay. "I provide corrections on your test, Midoriya. Your other teachers should as well. Are they not?"

"No!" Midoriya's hands flutter and then twist together. "No they do, you do. Iida-kun just helps, helps me read them." The end of his sentence comes out rushed, and the next is clearly well rehearsed. "Sometimes I have trouble reading our senseis' handwriting. That's all."

Midoriya is good at this, Shouta thinks. There's sincerity in his words, and just the right amount of sheepish caution. If Shouta didn't know better, he'd believe him. He raises a brow again, and levels Midoriya with a dry look.

"That's what you told Iida, I assume," Shouta says. "But I'd like the truth."

Shit, he shouldn't have said that, Shouta realizes. Midoriya's breath kicks up, just a bit, and his eyes flick towards the door before snapping back to Shouta as he stammers his way through a shaky denial. There's fear lacing his voice now, as he insists that's really what the problem is.

Shouta doesn't want to be frustrated, especially with the kid. But there's a hint of a headache pressing at his temples and an ache in his arms that tells him his post-USJ pain meds are starting to wear off. He forces the frustration down though, and reaches out to lay a gentle hand on Midoriya's shoulder.

Midoriya flinches, and Shouta freezes.

It knocks something loose in the back of Shouta's mind, an abrupt clarity from a new lens he suddenly thinks to look at the kid through. This whole time, Shouta's categorized Midoriya's fear as a fear of adults.

But it's...

It's teachers.

Shouta withdraws his hand and slowly lowers himself into the chair of Asui's desk, resting his hands on his knees with his palms down.

Midoriya's eyes track each movement, his face paling. "Sen," he stops and swallows. "Sensei, I don't..."

"I have a guess," Shouta says slowly, calmly. "For the answer to my question. I'm going to tell you my guess, and you can tell me if I'm right. Okay?"

Midoriya gnaws at his lower lip, eyes flickering towards the door again then back to Shouta, seated and still, and he nods.

"I think that you were checking your test against Iida's to see if your answers were actually incorrect," Shouta watches as Midoriya's eyes widen and his breath hitches. "And you were checking my corrections to make sure they were right."

Midoriya is barely breathing, his fingers twisted together tight enough to turn his knuckles white and his fingertips red. He doesn't respond, but Shouta can see his mouth tremble.

Shouta sucks in a sharp breath. "Oh, kid," he sighs out tiredly. "Alright. I need you to listen to me, this is important. Okay?" He doesn't expect Midoriya to talk right now, so he accepts the kid's shaky nod and continues. "I don't know what kind of teachers you've had in the past, but I promise you I wouldn't do that."

By the way Midoriya immediately claps a hand over his mouth with nothing but horror in his eyes, it's clear that he didn't mean to let himself scoff with disbelief.

Shouta wants to reach out, but he keeps his hands firmly on his knees, leaning forward just enough to catch the kid's eyes and speak calmly. "I understand it might be hard to believe me, but I mean it. I wouldn't."

Midoriya drops his hand from his mouth and looks away, fists clenched at his side. Shouta can see the twitch of his jaw just before he seems to lose a battle with himself, and he finally speaks.

"You already have," Midoriya bites out, turning his head to face Shouta again, fear and fierce, bitter determination at odds in his eyes. "You, you did it the first, that first day. I know I didn't get last place in the quirk test. It's not possible. I know."

Shouta's shoulders slump with his shock as he goes lax, leaning back in the chair. Oh...oh he fucked up.

Because Midoriya is right. He should have placed higher, somewhere between 10th and 16th once the numbers were crunched.

"You're right," Shouta echoes his thoughts numbly. "You're..." Shouta cuts himself off and rubs a hand over his face as carefully as he can. "Midoriya, I owe you an apology."

At that, it's Midoriya's turn to nearly sway down as all of the bound up tension suddenly sinks out of him, shock evident in the way he gapes at Shouta.

Shouta meets his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says earnestly. "I did change your score. It wasn't my intention to disregard your effort, or the place you'd earned. I was planning to temporarily expel you to General Studies to scare some sense into you, then bring you back into the Hero Course at the end of the week."

"You...what?" Midoriya blinks back tears, hands trembling. "I don't, I don't understand."

"I only permanently expel students who don't belong in the hero course," Shouta explains carefully. "A lot of my expulsions are temporary. When you managed the ball throw without breaking your arm, I decided that wasn't necessary. I still needed to scare some sense into you, so I moved you to last place. But I should have spoken to you about it after, to make sure you understood. That was my mistake, and it has caused you harm. I'm sorry, Midoriya."

Despite his gentle words, Midoriya just trembles harder, choking on a weak inhale. "Wait, sensei, you. You shouldn't, you don't...you don't need to apologize! I'm the one who, who can't, gah." Midoriya stops and shakes his head roughly. "It's my own fault for—"

"No," Shouta leans forward, cutting Midoriya off firmly. "Regardless of your performance, it wasn't fair to expect you to know what I was trying to teach you without an explanation."

"But it, sensei, it is my fault," Midoriya curls his arms around himself, shoulders hunched. "You were, you're right. I can't, can't keep breaking myself and making myself useless in a fight. I need to, to figure this out. And I will, I'm, I'm getting closer I think."

"You do need to improve your control," Shouta agrees gently. "That is your responsibility as a hero course student. My responsibility as your teacher is to support you. The way I taught you on that first day was not acceptable. You need to let me be accountable, Midoriya. That is also your responsibility as my student."

Midoriya's arms tighten around his torso, and despite how he clearly disagrees, he finally dips his head in a nod. "Okay, sensei," he says softly.

Shouta huffs quietly and exhales deeply. "If your teachers acted the way I think they did, it's safe to assume the quirk counselors in your district weren't much better. I suppose it makes sense that you'd be struggling with control."

"I don't, um," Midoriya falters and bites down on his lip, nodding jerkily. "I guess they, they weren't. Good, I mean."

Shouta eyes him curiously, his eyes darting down and away, the familiar cadence of his words. Shouta freezes when he realizes Midoriya sounds the same way he did when he said he had difficulty reading the teachers' handwriting.

"You...you don't know, do you," Shouta narrows his eyes. "Midoriya, did you not attend quirk counseling?"

Midoriya winces, his hands squeezing down to grip over his biceps. He opens his mouth to respond, but then his eyes dart towards Shouta and away again, and his mouth closes.

It's the only response Shouta needs really, but it doesn't seem like Midoriya is done, so he waits. He can hear the kid muttering under his breath, but it's too soft to actually understand. Shouta can pick out a few words here and there, 'Eraserhead', 'fights quirkless', 'help'.

Finally, after a moment of the kid staring at him intently, Midoriya cautiously sits down at Kirishima's desk, perched on the very edge of the seat as he faces Shouta. "I didn't," he says, quiet enough that Shouta has to strain to hear him. "I didn't go to quirk counseling, because." Midoriya stops and closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. "Because I didn't have a quirk. I'm..."

"A late bloomer," Shouta feels the air punch out of his lungs, dread leaving his limbs buzzing as every single piece of this puzzle shatters into place. "When?"

Midoriya lifts his legs up to the seat, wrapping his arms around them with his chin tucked behind his knees. "The, the um. The entrance exam."

Shouta feels a burst of fire and then ice jolt through his veins, and then nothing but a lead heavy numbness. "Two months," he chokes out. "You've only had your quirk for two months." And lived quirkless for fifteen years.

Midoriya watches him fearfully as he nods, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. "I'm, I'm s—"

"No," Shouta breathes out, reaching out to press a palm against one of Midoriya's hands. "No kid. That's not something you need to be sorry for."

"I should have, have told you!" Midoriya's voice wobbles, eyes squinting against his tears.

"Technically, yes," Shouta agrees reluctantly, squeezing the kid's hand. "But I understand why you didn't. You've been hurt by teachers before, you had no reason to think I'd be any different." And as far as Shouta is concerned, All Might should have been the one to tell him, because there isn't a shred of doubt in his mind that the blond bastard knew. But that's not for the kid to worry about, not right now. "And I gave you no reason to trust me that first day."

"I want to," Midoriya's hand trembles under Shouta's. "I want to trust you. I'm try, trying to."

"You took a big step today," Shouta agrees. "And I just need you to take a few more."

"Mm," Midoriya rubs each cheek against his knees, clearing the tears from his skin. "Like what?"

"Extra quirk lessons with me after school," Shouta says. "Sessions with one of Yuuei's quirk counselors. I can sit in on those with you, if you want me to. And when you decide you're ready to try a few more steps, I'd like to loop in Hizashi—Present Mic."

Midoriya nods with each ask, tilting his head at the end. "Yamada-sensei? How come?"

"He's good with quirks," Shouta answers, relieved to hear mostly curiosity and only a little trepidation in the kid's voice. "I think he could help us figure yours out."

"Mm, okay," Midoriya smiles, tiny and fragile. "Maybe, um. After a few days?"

"Only if and when you're ready," Shouta promises.

Midoriya flushes and hides part of his face behind his knees, eyes peering out at Shouta. "Are, are you sure this is okay? It's a lot of extra work, and it's not, I mean. It's my problem, you shouldn't have to..."

"It's like I said before," Shouta says calmly. "Your responsibility as a hero course student is to learn. My responsibility is to support you. I chose to be a teacher, Midoriya. These are things I need to do because they're my job, but they're also things that I want to do. Any teacher at Yuuei would be willing to help you like this, kid. I'm the norm here, not the exception." Shouta cautiously tries for a grin. "In this case at least."

It definitely pays off as the kid giggles quietly, his eyes brightening enough for Shouta to know that he's trying to believe him.

"I know you might not be able to believe me or trust me yet," Shouta says. "But I promise I'm gonna do everything I can to prove it to you until you can. I just need you to stick it out with me. Deal?"

Midoriya straightens up enough to nod at him. "Deal!"

His smile this time is determined, but more importantly, genuine. His trust in Shouta right now is fragile, but there's just enough of it there for Shouta to work with. Midoriya is willing to give him another chance, and he's sure as hell not going to waste it. It'll be a challenge but...

The thought comes unbidden, and Shouta resists rolling his eyes.

Plus ultra.