I don't normally put author's notes at the beginning, but I needed to quickly mention that on the release of this chapter, chapter 15 received a minor edit that removed Izuku crying/breaking down in front of Katsuki. It fit more clearly with what I wanted out of Izuku's arc and made for a more compelling moment in this chapter.

Izuku felt strangely unwelcome in the dimly lit infirmary. It was full of empty beds and a tidy work desk; its walls garnished with disused medical equipment and seldom-searched medicine cabinets. He'd become keenly aware that this room was for show more often than not. An office from which to file paperwork and to rest from the use of its owner's quirk. A promise of safety that was rarely called upon, for the vast majority of injuries at U.A. were minor under the watchful eyes of pro heroes. Anything more severe than a scrape or bruise could be undone in moments by Recovery Girl and the affected party shuffled back to class no worse for wear than the energy expended in the healing process. It was only in situations like this, an unthinkable amount of danger, of damage, that most any student would spend more than a thirty minute's rest under the nurse's supervision.

Thick drawn curtains blocked most of the light from the room and forced Izuku to squint as his eyes fell upon the digital clock on Recovery Girl's desk. Eleven thirty-eight in the morning.

The last time he'd been awake, the room had been illuminated by overhead bulbs and the windows were dark; he'd been asleep for a long time. Recovering. The fatigue from Recovery Girl's quirk was nothing to be trifled with when the damage was so extensive. Despite the late time, no one seemed to have come to turn on the lights or open the thick curtains that blocked the midday sun. Doctor's orders, he guessed.

Izuku laid his head back down with a soft sigh. He'd been distracting himself like this for maybe an hour now, ignoring his problems, and had slowly run out of random thoughts to divert his mind with.

He wished that he was too much of a coward to move forward.

He found himself quite disappointed.

Izuku broke down his problems into sections and began with what he thought was the least distressing matter: the matter that was currently pressed against his arm.

The hot, moist air that fanned across his fingertips. The inexplicable softness that caressed the inside of his wrist. The curtain of rosy red that cascaded over his left side and tickled his forearm with each breath and shift.

Manami had claimed his hand as her own and there was nothing he could do about it.

Not that he wanted to, really. It may well have been the first good sleep that Manami had gotten since… however long it had been since the attack at the USJ. Long enough for Mitsuki Bakugo to consider it enough of a problem that she'd physically dragged his mother and girlfriend from the room, according to Katsuki. A few days at minimum. Potentially longer, even. The thought left an uncomfortable weight in his chest.

Izuku craned his head for a better look and frowned thoughtfully at Manami's sleeping form. It didn't look very comfortable. She'd appropriated Recovery Girl's uniquely tall office chair so that her tiny frame could lean over the side of the hospital bed. With her good arm she clutched at him like a lifeline and used his forearm as her pillow. The warm air at his fingertips was her breath. The softness, her lips as they moved against his wrist. The curtain of red, her hair, the vibrant tresses freed from their normal trappings in her twintails and left to spill in a messy wave that threatened to take over his entire left side. She snuggled deeper; squeezed harder. Her mouth formed silent words that her lips seared into his flesh.

He stifled a sound that he would not have been proud to make.

He refused do anything that might disturb Manami's sleep. No matter how determined she seemed to torture him.

He took a breath. Deep in. Deep out. Tried not to think of the feeling of her lips on his after their last training session. Tried not to remember that their kiss in the USJ could have been their last.

'We could have… She could have…' His heart pounded uncomfortably against his ribcage. His breath hitched and he drew shallow air on his next attempt and the one after that.

Izuku knew what was wrong but still refused to acknowledge it. He forced himself to think about positive things. Manami. His mother. Love, happiness… life. When that didn't seem to work, he instead returned to his previous strategy and pressed his mind to ignore the problem–to think about something else. Something that had been concerning him ever since he'd noticed it.

'Something hasn't felt right since I've woken up.'

It was nothing, really, he told himself to little effect. Just a little something. A tug that shouldn't exist because there was no cloth or muscle or skin being tugged on. The implications ranged from harmless to catastrophic. Perhaps he was numb from painkillers and had an itch that couldn't feel so. Perhaps it was less physical than mental and he was about to lose his mind… if he hadn't already.

He closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose distastefully. He wrinkled his brow and tried to focus. He searched for an answer and no answer was to be found. It was there like a forgotten phrase on the tip of his tongue. Something he should have known but tactfully eluded him until it returned at the most inopportune moment, long after the need had passed.

'I just… can't figure it out.'

He hoped it was harmless. He didn't know if he could deal with much more.

The late afternoon found Izuku staring down an altogether different type of discomfort in the form of Mitsuki Bakugo.

As before, his eyes had closed and hours passed in the time that he'd blinked. His thoughts chased each other in circles until his exhausted mind had all but given in.

Some time during his nap, Manami had been replaced by Katsuki's mother and took the warmth of her affection with her. Izuku's fingers twitched as if searching for the soothing rhythm of her breath. He frowned.

"I can stay outside if you want, kiddo. The cutie I caught snuggling your arm was kicked out by the nurse to get a shower and some sleep in a real bed and Inko's busy dealing with some administrative bullshit related to the attack, too, so she asked me to keep an eye on you for a few hours. But if you're uncomfortable…"

Izuku snapped to attention; his cheeks warmed at the mention of Manami's sleeping position from that morning.

"Oh no, sorry, Auntie Mitsuki! I wasn't frowning at you! I was just thinking about something else…"

Mitsuki tried her best to force a smile across from him but, as it had been for the last decade, she couldn't seem to do so without looking apologetic. A reminder of why he felt so discomforted in the first place. Izuku couldn't remember the last time he'd spent any significant amount of time alone with the elder Bakugo. Not since elementary school, probably. She used to babysit him until it became painfully obvious that he and Katsuki couldn't share the same space–building, even–without the latter causing problems.

The deterioration of his and Katsuki's friendship hadn't cost Izuku only one relationship. Mitsuki pulled away quietly, unlike her son. Evenings at the Bakugo residence after school became friendly chats on the couch while his mother finished getting ready for a girl's night out became careful greetings and an awkward silence filled with the desire to mend a bridge that Mitsuki didn't seem to know how to repair–if she even was allowed to try.

Izuku wished he knew how to tell her that it had never been broken in the first place.

"Yeah. Guess you'd have a lot on your mind given the circumstances." Mitsuki sighed as if she'd been holding her breath and adopted a trepid smile. Her eyes fixated on his bandaged upper body, shimmering with concern, "You feeling okay?"

"It's uh… it's a bit touch and go." He admitted, "My body's still pretty roughed up, but Recovery Girl said I needed to rest a bit before she tries healing me again. She also said I might have to heal the fracture on my leg naturally unless she clears me for…" Izuku paused, uncomfortable, and clumsily swerved away from the words 'quirk use,' "...I mostly kind of just ache all over at this point, though, so it's nothing I can't handle."

He didn't mention the mental strain. The various things that worried him nor the creeping anxiety that was rising in his throat the longer he spent without his mother or Manami in his sight. The moments when he couldn't find a means of distraction and forgot how to breathe. He tried to rationalize it away as a perfectly normal trauma response, but it was a losing battle. He forced it down with vehemence and adopted a false, shakey smile.

"Well I'm glad you're alright, kiddo." There was something sharp in Mitsuki's eyes that he knew Katsuki had inherited from her. It was a look that said she knew exactly what he'd been thinking but was too kind to force him to talk about it. The Bakugos' mutual ability to see through him was as frightening as it was a comfort. He felt strangely seen when Mitsuki gave him that look and it warmed him in a way he hadn't felt in years. He missed this. Missed her. The reliable 'aunt' who let him work through his problems on his own but would just as easily offer comfort if he wanted it.

"So tell me how things are going, Auntie Mitsuki. Do you still do modeling shoots for that magazine?" Izuku changed the subject, this time with a genuine smile. Mitsuki's gaze softened and she breathed a happy sigh. She recognized the gesture for what it was. Her ruby eyes twinkled and her posture softened as if an enormous weight had lifted from her shoulders.

"Yes, actually. Masaru was given a promotion a few years ago and…"

Izuku and Mitsuki continued to share stories and catch up. The mood had lightened considerably, though the older woman was still careful to avoid any topic that ran adjacent to her son and his treatment of Izuku. That suited him just fine, however. There was no reason to blame her for the things that Katsuki did and Izuku had already forgiven him in his own way regardless.

Izuku was part way through retelling the story of how he met and trained with Stendhal when a knock sounded on the door.

"Midoriya-san? I have someone here who would like to see you if you're okay with visitors?"

"O-Oh, um…" Izuku looked from the door to Mitsuki, who shook her head and shrugged as if to say 'no idea,' and then back. He didn't recognize the man's voice, but he figured it couldn't hurt to see who it was. "Sure. Please come in."

The door opened slowly and revealed beyond its threshold a wheelchair-bound person who may as well have been a mummy for all Izuku could see of them. From the other side of the door a man wearing medical scrubs appeared. He made his way behind the wheelchair and pushed his charge into the room.

"Hello, Midoriya-san, my name is Takeo, I'm a nurse from Musutafu General hospital. I'm one of our liaisons that work with U.A. in case of emergency."

"Hello." Izuku greeted him in response on almost pure instinct. His focus was locked on the other person that had entered the room. More features on the person in the wheelchair became distinguishable as they were pushed closer to his bed.

Long black hair. Male body structure. But most distinguishing, bloodshot eyes with coal-black irises.

"Aizawa…sensei…?" Izuku's lips trembled. Tears formed in his eyes. He tried to blink them away but more came just as fast until they overflowed and dripped down his cheeks.

"... Yeah." Shota sounded exhausted, like he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. Both of his arms were crossed over his chest in slings. Every inch of available skin save for his eyes was bandaged or in a cast. But Izuku was just happy to see the man breathing. Alive.

"Sensei… I… I'm…"

Like a broken dam, all of the emotions that Izuku had tried so desperately to bottle up inside over the course of the past day rushed out all at once in a deluge of sobs that he had no control over. Everything inside of him shut down. He couldn't think. He could hardly breathe. There was only sadness and relief and grief and joy and anger that overwhelmed every single one of his senses until the only things he knew were the sound of his cries and the bitter taste of tears.

He had vague sensations of a hand gently rubbing circles in his back. Multiple voices assuring him that he could let it all out. But they were fleeting. He was lost at sea, drowning under the weight of emotions that he wasn't prepared to deal with–that he could never have prepared to deal with.

Izuku didn't know how long he remained like that. Only that when sight and touch and sound finally returned to him the vestiges of his cries were near to a whisper and his throat was hoarse beyond belief.

His panting breaths came with a wheeze. The three adults had gathered around him with concern. The hand he'd felt rubbing his back belonged to Mitsuki. Her other held his so gently that he hadn't even realized it was there.

"I'm–" he rasped, struggling with the words, struggling to breathe. Why was he so lightheaded? Mitsuki shushed him with a finger to his lips. Takeo the nurse moved in his periphery. When had he left Izuku's bedside? The man returned in moments with a bottle of water that he urged against Izuku's lips.

"Everything will be okay. Can you try to drink this for me?" He asked gently. Izuku obeyed. "Small sips." The nurse urged with a smile.

It was the second time in as many days that someone else had held water to his lips to soothe his aching throat. Except now his throat felt raw beyond belief and not just dry. Once Izuku had drunk a quarter of the bottle, the nurse withdrew it and replaced the cap.

"Good… Good job, kiddo. It's okay. You're okay." Mitsuki herself sounded as though she was choking back tears. Her hand slowly started to slip out of his, but Izuku squeezed so that she wouldn't let go.

"Please." His voice was tiny, begging. His mom wasn't here. He wanted his mom. 'I want… I need…'

Mitsuki's hand squeezed back.

"Anything you want. I'm here, Izuku."

Nobody talked for a while. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get himself to breathe without shaking. Mitsuki continued to rub soothing circles in his back. Takeo stepped away to stand near the door in case anyone came to investigate the noise. Shota watched silently, his eyes filled with profound sadness.

"I'm sorry." It felt like hours had passed by the time Izuku had gathered himself enough to speak again. His cheeks were stiff with dried tears, his bandages damp with sweat. His face felt puffy and his throat was completely raw. He felt embarrassed. Ashamed.

"You have nothing to apologize for." It was the first Shota had spoken since the start of Izuku's breakdown. His voice nearly broke with emotion as he tried with everything he could to convey the importance of what he was saying. "Midoriya–no, Izuku. I'm the one who should be asking for your forgiveness. What you had to face–what you had to do in order to save my life… it never should have happened under my supervision. I'm sorry."

Izuku sniffled and shook his head.

"I wanted you to live. I wanted everyone to live."

It was supposed to be better when he saw Aizawa. He'd told himself it would be better. Instead all he could think about was that moment. Blood, perfectly still. Eyes, wide in terror. Words that he'd never heard. That he could only imagine.

Please! I don't want to die!

Please

Please

Please

"I know."

Those same words that Katsuki had said. How could they believe him? How could they see what he did and not share in his horror? Someone had died! Someone was dead and it was his fault!

"I don't… I don't have any secret words that make it any easier." Aizawa told him with a soft voice, "I know I told you on your first day of class that it sometimes hurts, being a hero, but that doesn't mean I or anyone else expected you to be ready for what happened. None of us were. The only thing I can offer you is this, for what little consolation it is:"

He breathed deeply. Closed his eyes. Izuku, in spite of himself, found that he was hanging on every word.

"You, Izuku Midoriya, are the only reason I am alive right now. From the bottom of my heart, thank you! I will work hard to not waste a single moment of the life you saved!"

It wasn't as if he could bow in his condition, not even his head. But the fervor with which Aizawa stared into Izuku's eyes was beyond words. There burned a fire in him that Izuku had never seen. Something that, for all intents and purposes, he had put there.

'The life I saved…'

In all of this time, he had only been able to focus on the negative outcome of what he'd done in the USJ. He'd known, objectively, that he'd done what he did to save Aizawa. But it was something else to be reminded, to be thanked fervently but not excused or separated from the outcome. He had killed a man. He had saved a life. One could not be true without the other.

"Thank you, Aizawa-sensei."

"It is only the truth." It was hard to tell without being able to see his lips, but Aizawa might have even been smiling, just a little. Moments later, his eyes drooped a little and it seemed as though he forced himself to stay awake with rapid blinking. "Sorry, but I don't think I can stay long. Chiyo's going to give me an earful as it is for convincing Takeo to wheel me over here."

The nurse had the good sense to look terrified at the prospect of being found out by the retired heroine, but he quickly recovered with a smile and a shrug.

"Wouldn't be the first time a stubborn pro ignored a doctor's orders. Something tells me she'll understand this time though."

With that, Takeo took his spot behind Aizawa's wheelchair and made to take him from the room. Izuku watched them go, honestly feeling as though speech was beyond him at the moment. His thoughts were a mess of emotion. At the very least, his stomach finally seemed to settle.

He'd saved a life.

"Izuku?"

He blinked slowly, somehow having lost sense of Mitsuki. She was still there, one hand holding his, her eyes filled with concern.

"Thank you, Auntie Mitsuki." Izuku squeezed one last time before he slid his hand out of hers. He imagined that there were many people who wouldn't have stuck by him through something like that. Especially not considering Katsuki and everything that came between.

"Any time, kiddo."

And just like that, things felt back to normal. Mitsuki graced Izuku with a stunning, confident smile that made it clear why her modeling career had continued so strongly over the years and ruffled his hair like she used to do when he was a little kid.

Izuku found himself smiling back, heart just a little bit lighter than before.

Sorry if the shorter chapter disappoints some of you. I found this one quite difficult. So many ideas and iterations were scrapped one after another because I never felt that I got the emotional weight quite right. To be honest, I still may not have succeeded. I really wanted to convey how much Izuku is struggling with avoidance. How it isn't healthy for him but he does it anyway because the alternative is scary. And I wanted the moment when he sees Aizawa and finally lets go to be impactful for him. Inko isn't there. Manami isn't there. He's absent his normal 'comfort humans' and he's hurting. And still, after Aizawa comforts him, he's not completely fixed. He can start to move on now, but this will always be with him.

On a less depressing note: I loved writing Mitsuki's interactions with Izuku. I've been wanting her in the story for a long time since she was mentioned in an early chapter and I was very excited to finally make that happen. Shonen anime and the idea of 'found family' go hand-in-hand and I was super into the idea that Izuku and Mitsuki both really miss each other but Katsuki strained the relationship to the point that it became non-functioning. I'd like to get more of her in here later if I can.

I'll stop rambling now. Thanks to everyone who continues to stick with me and this story, I appreciate your patience! Please leave a review if you have thoughts/concerns/criticisms or just want to make me happy. I love to hear from you all!

Have a great day!