Chapter 7

Chapter Text

It was well past midnight and Shota hadn't even considered going to bed. Mic gave him a sad smile as he moved toward the kettle, probably intending to make a soothing tea rather than the coffee Shota lived on.

"Have you been able to contact Mrs. Midoriya yet?"

"Not yet, no," Shota said, dropping his gaze to the smartphone in his hand. He'd retrieved it from Midoriya's locker when he hadn't been able to reach the kid's mother at home or at the work number on file. A very bored receptionist had informed him that Midoriya Inko had been "let go" from that job several years ago but it was clear she hadn't bothered to update her details or even fill in the correct information on Izuku's application to UA.

It had left Shota wondering if Izuku (who'd most likely been the one to fill in the application form online) hadn't been informed either. It left Shota with far too many questions on top of the already stress-filled hours since his student had died.

But retrieving Izuku's phone and belongings hadn't helped either. The phone was locked with a fingerprint ID so there was no way for Shota to get it open to check if Izuku had a different number for his mother. A search of his belongings had revealed just the standard school texts and workbooks and a journal that seemed to have been written in code. Judging by the sketches, Shota figured it was some sort of hero analysis and probably very innocent, but it had been a little creepy to find what seemed to be drawings of himself and every other teacher in the school surrounded by copious notes.

It felt a little disrespectful to the dead but Shota fully intended to pass the journal onto Nedzu so that they could break the code and make sure Izuku hadn't been working with someone other than All Might.

Shota rubbed his eyes, tired of the endless thoughts rolling through his head. He was exhausted and there was nothing he could do until morning. Staying up all night was just going to make the next day of school even harder. He was about to stand up when the phone in his hand vibrated with an incoming text.

He growled in frustration, unable to read the text and having no way to contact the person—most likely Izuku's mother—without being able to unlock the phone. A second text came through fifteen minutes later; a third mere moments after that.

Finally the phone rang, the caller ID showing a photo of a woman with green hair and green eyes to match Izuku's. Shota fumbled with the unfamiliar accept-call button before finally putting the phone to his ear.

"Izuku?"

"Sorry, no. My name is Aizawa Shota. Is this Midoriya Inko?"

"Yes," the woman said warily.

"I'm your son's homeroom teacher at UA."

"His teacher?" she asked sounding confused. "Why are you answering my son's phone in the middle of the night?"

Shota could hear the suspicion building in Inko's voice so he got straight to the point. "There was a training accident at school today. I'm very sorry but your son didn't make it."

"He didn't?" Inko asked, sounding relieved. "That is… Oh wow, that is probably the best news I've gotten all week. I knew there had to be something wrong with that acceptance letter from All Might. How on Earth was a quirkless child supposed to compete with children with quirks like Endeavor's son or Ingenium's younger brother?" Her reaction was disconcerting to say the least until she asked a question that was not rhetorical. "So will Izuku be transferred into the general education course or will I have to sign him up for online schooling? I doubt any of the local high schools will accept a quirkless child this late no matter how good his grades are."

"Mrs. Midoriya," Shota said, his chest aching with the news he has to impart. "I'm very sorry, but I think you misunderstood me." He took a shuddering breath and tried to keep his words even. "Izuku died earlier today."

"D–Died?" Mrs. Midoriya stuttered.

"I'm sorry to be doing this over the phone, Mrs. Midoriya. The contact information we have on file seems to be incorrect. The workplace listed said you hadn't worked there for several years."

"Of course, I haven't," Inko snapped, suddenly very angry. "Do you have any idea what happens to my rent or my employment when anyone learns I have a quirkless son? I get evicted or I get fired! If I'm lucky they're honest enough to admit why. If I'm not… well, let's just say that they've manufactured some very creative reasons, and that makes everything MUCH WORSE!" Her breathing hitched and her volume lowered once more. "I've been fired from three other jobs since the one on Izuku's application form."

That probably also explained why Inko's neighbors had told him that Inko lived alone when Shota had gone to the home address on file. Fuck, Shota knew the statistics for quirkless deaths and suicides, but he'd never really been confronted with the reality of the day-to-day life. It was still jarring to realize that until only a few hours ago Shota had believed Midoriya Izuku had a powerful quirk that had been breaking his bones for a decade.

Inko sighed softly, her voice thickening with grief. "I didn't want Izuku to worry. He takes these things personally even though he knows it's not his fault that people are small-minded, bigoted idiots."

"Mrs. Midoriya, I…" Hell, what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? He fell back on the only platitude that might suit the situation, but he cringed at the uselessness of such words. "I am so very sorry for your loss. Is there someone I can call for you?"

"No," she said quietly. "Only a handful of people know I have a son, and none of them are people I'd want anywhere near me right now. I'll…um… I don't know… maybe go check my bank account and try to figure out how I'm going to pay for a funeral no one will bother attending."

Shota wanted to assure the woman that he would attend Izuku's funeral but it felt like too little, too late. He'd be there for sure, but they weren't words she would welcome right now. "UA will pay for your son's funeral," he said instead. "It's the very least we can do." UA had a budget to build and destroy entire cities for training purposes. They could easily cover Mrs. Midoriya's expenses.

"I… I…um…" Inko cleared her throat, obviously crying. "Can I see him… his um…b–body? Which hospital was he taken to? Or um…morgue, I guess."

"He… Izuku was caught in an explosion. There wasn't an actual body to collect." Fuck he hated having this conversation over the phone. He wouldn't have been comfortable having it anywhere else either, but at least if they'd been face to face he'd be able to gauge how Inko was reacting. "I have his personal affects. His uniform and school books."

"Keep 'em," Mrs. Midoriya mumbled.

"Okay, I'll um… Yeah, I can do that. I'll give you my personal cellphone number in case you change your mind…or um… you know… If you need anything else, anything at all, please call me."

He rattled off the number and confirmed it when Inko read it back to him.

"Please, Mrs. Midoriya, you're not alone in this."

She laughed at that. The sound was not comforting.

"I've been alone since Izuku was diagnosed quirkless at age four. My husband went on a business trip and never came back. I lost the career I'd studied years to have, and I spent the past decade praying that my son would survive the bullies at school." Her tone dropped again, devoid of all emotion. "You said my son died in an explosion?"

"That's correct," Shota confirmed warily.

"Was Bakugo Katsuki involved?"

Shota hesitated, uncertain how much detail he should divulge in this situation—Mrs. Midoriya's tone had alarm bells ringing in his mind—but his silence answered for him.

"Was he arrested?" She didn't wait for Shota's response. "Of course not. Why would UA be any different to Aldera?" She growled a wordless sound of frustration. "I can guarantee you, Mr. Aizawa, that if Katsuki was involved, Izuku's death was no accident. That little asshole has been tormenting my son for the past ten years. Every bruise, every burn, every broken bone Izuku has ever had can be laid at Bakugo Katsuki's feet. Even when he wasn't the one beating on Izuku himself, he was the instigator, directing the other kids on what to do and how to do it."

"Mrs. Midor—"

"Nope," Inko said. "I'm done with this bullshit. Bakugo Katsuki is a murderer and you're a hero school protecting him." She huffed a sarcastic laugh. "And to think that Izuku believed things would be better at UA." The near-silent sob broke Shota's heart but before he could find any words Mrs. Midoriya mumbled "Good-bye, Mr. Aizawa" and hung up.

Shota carefully placed Izuku's phone on the table and rubbed his hands over his eyes. It didn't stop the tears from rolling down his face. The warm arms that slipped around him and held him together were very welcome.