Chapter Text
Shouta was the kind of person that didn’t like delaying, once he had decided to do something. And so it happened that the end of the day bell found him leaning in the doorway of class 1-A, watching as his kids packed their bags, chatting among themselves and occasionally sending furtive, nervous glances his way.
“Midoriya,” he called quietly to the greenette, who turned away from an animated conversation with Uraraka and Iida. “A word.”
The kid swallowed visibly, but didn’t argue. He waved off the concern of his friends, slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried after his homeroom teacher, who was already walking down the corridor in the direction of his office. Even though the kid was walking behind him and out of sight, Shouta could practically feel the anxiety radiating off the teen. He could also hear how a few times the boy took a deep breath as if to speak, but thought better of it every time.
The tension grew as they finally reached the office and entered, Shouta gesturing lazily at the chair in front of his desk, opposite his own, worn and comfy one. Midoriya sat down obediently, his school bag still held in the white-knuckled grip of one scarred hand. Shouta just looked at him for a few moments, unblinking, but finally took pity on his nervous student.
“Relax, problem child, you are not in trouble.” For now, at least. He added, mentally. No need to make the boy any more apprehensive than he already was, and besides, it’s not like he did anything bad, this time. Just stupid. He saw the kid relax a little. He was still tense and alert, but at least he didn’t look like he would bolt at any moment.
“Then if I may ask, sensei,” began the teen hesitantly, and Shouta nodded slightly to encourage him, “what is this about?”
“I wanted to talk to you about the analysis exercise we did today.” Shouta announced simply, and waited. Let the kid make what he wanted out of that statement. He had found long ago that some of the most telling things about people in these situations was their reaction to silence.
The kid’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion, for a moment, and then the nervousness set in. Shouta watched it unfold with growing concern and puzzlement, seeing the exact moment when his student’s insecurities took over. Why are you so unsure of yourself, kid? Where do all those insecurities come from? Where does the confidence I have seen you employ on the battlefield go when the fighting is over?
“Th-the exercise?” the boy stammered. Shouta said nothing and continued to watch, cataloguing all the nuances of the boy’s reaction. “I thought it w-went pretty well, actually, I r-really enjoyed it.” Noted. “D-did I do something wrong?” the kid looked up at his teacher, green eyes wide with worry and a little desperation.
Shouta stayed silent, even though it was becoming harder by the second. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t like causing his students unnecessary stress, especially when they did nothing wrong. But he needed answers, and this was the most reliable way to get them. Even though Midoriya was a notoriously bad liar, he was pretty good at keeping secrets, and he was a master of evasion once a conversation turned to topics undesirable for him. Stress was the only way to lower his walls enough so he hopefully let enough information out, from which Shouta could build further. Didn’t mean he would enjoy it, though.
“W-was my analyses inadequate? Did I go o-overboard? I am so sorry Aizawa-sensei! It’s just when you announced the exercise I was so excited, I had so many ideas but there wasn't enough time to write them all anyway, and I knew you wouldn't like most of it so I tried to tone it down, but most of it just kind of wrote itself down and I finally got the structure more or less clear but…” The boy looked down, unwilling to meet his teacher's gaze. "It must have been really creepy for you to read it. I am sorry. It won't happen again."
Silence hung over them like a heavy blanket while Shouta tried to process the jumble of fear and shame that had just spilled out of his student in an approximation of a coherent apology. A very alarming apology, might he add.
If what I read today is Midoriya's version of 'incomplete' and 'toned down', however mildly, I shudder to think what a full version would look like. Shouta quashed the thought as quickly as it appeared. That was clearly not the part of his student's speech he should be focusing on.
Why would the boy's first reaction upon being presented with such a seemingly trivial topic of conversation be this ? Shouta not only didn't so much as hint that Midoriya did something wrong, he had explicitly told the boy he was not in trouble. Yet his first, immediate assumption was that he had done something wrong. And his immediate reaction to that was an extrapolation of how his imagined wrongdoing had hurt the person accusing him of said deed (in this case, Shouta, allegedly), followed immediately by an apology and a promise not to do so again.
All of that, in and of itself was an extremely worrying display of very low self esteem and what was probably a boatload of other, underlying problems, and while the notion that Midoriya's self esteem was lower than average wasn't new to Shouta, the depth of the problem was never laid out in front of him in such stark detail. Or maybe it had, and I just failed to see it. Stupid. Yet again, he quashed the instinctive thoughts. No time for this. Fix the problem now, wallow in self-deprecation later . Or, well, start fixing the problem. Shouta doubted that such deep seated issues could be treated in the space of one conversation.
That wasn't the only thing that drew Shouta's attention, either. No, in the context of their current topic of discussion, he zeroed in on what exactly it was the boy assumed he had done wrong. Gone overboard? Creepy? Yes, Midoriya's work was extremely unusual, but it was unusual in all of the good ways an essay could possibly be. It was long, but not unnecessarily so, and extremely detailed, and showed a depth of understanding of both technique and the subject matter that few professionals in the field could rival. And while Shouta's own first reaction to reading it was somewhat disturbed and, honestly, more than a little frightened, it was mostly caused by the understanding he had missed something so crucial, and a genuine awe towards his student's intelligence and expertise (and maybe, just maybe, it was the fleeting thought of how much trouble they could have been in if the kid had chosen a more villainous path). Why then, would the kid make such grim assumptions about the outcome of his hard work?
"Midoriya," started Shouta slowly, carefully choosing every word. "What reasons would I have to think your essay was creepy?"
"Huh?" The kid glanced up in surprise for a moment, blinking at him confusedly, as if Shouta had just asked what color the sky was. "E-Everyone thinks it's creepy, sensei." He mumbled finally, gaze returning to rest firmly on the floor.
"That's not what I asked, problem child." Shouta corrected gently, waiting to see if the boy would see the difference. He was rewarded with the sight of Midoriya mentally rewinding the question in his head, and the almost immediate flash of understanding that followed.
"Because…" he paused, unsure what to say, and visibly surprised at that fact. "Because I know a lot of stuff about you? About everyone. And it's things that people usually don't notice? And some of it is personal? And…" he trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.
Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose. "Problem child. We are learning analysis . The whole point of the subject is to know as much as possible about people in general, enemies and allies alike, so you can better defeat the former and assist the latter. I summoned you here because, as shown by your essay, you have a particular talent for the subject, not because you did anything wrong."
"Oh…" the boy was staring at him again, expressive emerald eyes so full of surprise, confusion and… hope? "You… you don't think it's bad?" Yes, that was definitely hope in his voice, just a spark, wavering and so fragile it nearly broke the outwardly cold teacher's heart.
Who taught you that being intelligent and observant is bad? Who made you fear and despise your own most precious talents? I just want to talk, I swear. He wouldn't ask though, not now, not yet. His task now was to fan the flames of that small hope he saw blooming in his student's gaze, and to strengthen the fragile, repeatedly broken and mended trust that existed between them, because right now the boy was more likely to clamp down and shut himself away again than to answer any delicate questions.
"No, problem child, I don't think it's bad." He said gently, voice just a smidge softer than usual. "You did exactly what I asked you to do, and you did it well." Well was a bit of an understatement, really, but Shouta was never known for excessive praise, and he also suspected that the boy in front of him wasn't ready to hear or accept just how far above average he placed in this subject.
He was still rewarded with a shaky, but sunny smile, and a few tears that finally managed to escape Midoriya's tenuous control and slid down his cheeks. Shouta pretended not to notice as the boy hastily wiped them away, electing instead to grab a random paper from the numerous stacks on his table and pretending to read something off of it, taking just enough time to let the boy compose himself.
"So," he continued, when the greenette had his waterworks under control more or less, "it appears you have had a lot of practice with analysis of this kind, at least as far as I can tell. Mind telling me where you got it?" He was mildly concerned that even this simple question would prove too probing, but Midoriya just smiled at him, if a little nervously.
"Well, I… um… I've actually been analyzing heroes... basically since I can remember. They always fascinated me, and when I realized I wouldn't be able to win by overpowering people, I thought that maybe I could outsmart them? And, um, I really love quirks, all of them are so fascinating and unique. And heroes are the only ones allowed to actually use them, so I can analyze them in depth. Um…" the boy trailed off, unsure of what else to say, peeking up at his teacher through his bangs, so hesitant and still afraid of being scolded or ridiculed.
Shouta stared at him unblinkingly. Well, that certainly explained the copious amounts of experience the kid had. If he had been doing analysis since forever, even without proper instruction, it stands to reason that- wait… His thought process was interrupted by a sudden realization that hit him across the head with all the grace and gentleness of a speeding train.
"Midoriya, is this what you've been doing with those notebooks of yours all along?" His voice had come out colder than he intended, and the boy shrunk a bit under his narrowed gaze, but answered nonetheless.
"Um… yeah?" His voice wavered in fear of his teacher, and Shouta made himself take a few deep breaths before he frightened the kid into silence.
It was insanely annoying, how something so obvious had slipped by him, unnoticed. Now that he thought of it, it was also obvious that Midoriya's close friends knew about this too, if the looks they were giving him in class today were any indication. And none of them thought to tell him. None of them seemed to particularly encourage the boy in his intellectual endeavors, either, not that he had seen, not outside of battle when their lives often depended on his quick thinking.
Were they part of the problem? Did they make him feel like his special skills were something unseemly and undesirable, to be hidden away unless absolutely necessary? He knew his students would never harm their friend purposefully, but as a teacher he knew well that children could sometimes be cruel and foolish in very unexpected ways, even unintentionally.
Shouta once again pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, in a futile attempt to stave off the oncoming migraine. He allowed himself to indulge in a moment of silence, before looking up at his student, noting the boy's once again escalating anxiety.
"Listen, problem child. I am not mad at you. Like I said before, your analysis is remarkable, and I am glad you have such a well developed tool in your arsenal that does not require you to break yourself. However, I am disappointed that you didn't think to inform me of your talent in this field sooner. As your teacher, it is my job to help you become the best version of yourself you can possibly be, and I cannot do that if you hide your potential from me. Are we clear?"
The boy nodded slowly, looking slightly dazed. His eyes were still wide with surprise, though at what Shouta could not tell, and his cheeks were slightly flushed from the unexpected praise. There had also been a look on his face, an unreadable expression that passed so fast it might have been his imagination, when Shouta had said it was his job to help… another red flag. Dammit, they were all over the place. Shouta would need to look deeper into the kid's past, because what he had seen on his records so far wasn't enough to justify this… this. Later. He needed to conclude this meeting, he had already delayed the kid too long. It wasn't so much of a problem now that they lived in the dorms and didn't need to catch a train to get home, and yet.
"To better determine how we should proceed, I would like to see more of your analysis, and maybe consult with some other teachers. Would it be okay with you if I borrowed your notebook for a few days?"
Midoriya considered it for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side in a way that was decidedly not adorable, and then nodded decisively. A moment later the notebook was being passed to Shouta, produced so fast he didn't even see where the boy took it from. It was a simple notebook, a little thicker than most, well worn from frequent use, with a plain black cover adorned with a simple title in small, neat kanji: " Hero Analysis for the Future #15 ".
A quick flip through the pages revealed they were all filled with analysis similar to what he had seen in the essay, if much messier and less organized. The subjects differed as well, from newly debuted, up and coming heroes, to upperclassmen, to old and well established heroes, some of which were already retired. And he has 15 of these, apparently. Nedzu is going to have a field day with this. And all the rest of us are going to… hide, probably. He could feel the migraine intensifying already.
"I will consult with the others, so we can set up specialized training for you to improve upon your skills. Does that sound reasonable?" He addressed his student once more.
And there was the excited vibration again, back in full force. Midoriya's anxiety had been wiped away in a moment, unable to resist in the wake of his overwhelming enthusiasm. His smile was once again wide and blinding, green eyes shining with almost childish delight. "Sensei, that would be amazing! I would be honoured to study analysis more in depth! If you really think it would help me be a better hero - I will do my best!" He pumped his fist in the air in a movement strangely reminiscent of Uraraka, and Shouta cracked a miniscule smile.
"Good. You're dismissed, then." The teacher made a lazy shooing motion, and the boy hastily stood and bowed, before running through the door, still smiling widely, steps bouncy and brimming with excited energy.
Left alone, Shouta closed his aching eyes and rested his forehead on the table. There was so much to do, so many implications that arose from this conversation alone that he needed to sort through and investigate further. There was a lot of work, and sometimes it seemed he would never have enough energy to complete it all. But he would pull through, like he always did. For his student, who deserved to be the lively, promising young hero who just exited his office, and not the nervous, insecure wreck who had sat there minutes earlier. And for the world, that needed heroes like Midoriya, strong as well as smart, shining bright with hope and kindness.
With a resigned sigh, the exhausted teacher got up, picked the black notebook from his table, and headed through the quiet hallways towards his next stop - the principal's office.