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Aizawa surveys the class, and Izuku leans comfortably in his seat. It's been a while since they've seen a look like that on Aizawa's face so early in the morning, so it could mean a surprise death match or it could be something as mundane as choosing the class rep. It's a pretty pointless exercise to try to predict what Aizawa's going to throw at them next, and Izuku trusts by this point, after a full year and then some, that their homeroom teacher isn't going to kill them.
He might try to, but he'd never actually kill them. He's their dad, after all. He's not allowed to kill them.
"There's a very important assignment coming up for all of you," he announces. Izuku tilts his head, fingers tensing on his pencil. "One easily over-looked aspect of becoming a daylight hero is having a cause. Something that you fight for, something that you believe in, something that you want to bring people's attention to." If All Might had been the one to announce that, it would've sounded very poetic and profound, like the core of all heroes. Backed by Aizawa's slow, lazy drawl though, the sentence was almost underwhelming. The class had gotten used to it.
"The cause you want to back can be related to your theme as a hero, like Midnight. She uses sex appeal and shocking phrases to her advantage in confrontations, and is a prevelant spokesperson for sexual and domestic abuse. She donates to fundraisers, calls out charities that help her cause, and volunteers to help the exact people that she is saying we need to help. It ties into her image, and it gets people's attention.
"But it doesn't have to be related to your theme. As a pro, the only person who can decide what causes are important to you and what you want to throw your weight behind is you. Snipe backs cancer charities and advocates for research and funding into a cure. Obviously, there's no tie-in with his outfit or Quirk. It's a cause that he feels strongly about and wants to get as much public attention to as possible.
"This assignment is to come up with some causes you might want to back, once you're a pro. What things you feel strongly about, issues you desperately want to change, advancements you want to make. However, nothing you choose in the coming days has to be final for your career. This project is just to see what kinds of causes are out there and what you might be interested in speaking for or against." Aizawa sighs. "Since these are not final choices and just an exercise to get you thinking, you'll be doing this in pairs. Which," he adds as soon as the cheering starts, "I have already chosen."
"In one week from today, you'll be expected to give a ten to twenty minute presentation on whatever cause you and your partner have chosen. I'll tell you your partners now, and the rest of the period is yours."
Izuku hasn't written a single thing down. He meant to, he really did, but he already knows exactly what he's going to do. He knows what cause he wants to back, he knows how vocal he's going to be, he knows what he wants his presentation to be on.
The fear of putting it out there freezes him, but this is something that he is going to do, no matter what.
"Bakugou and Midoriya," Aizawa drones. Izuku breathes slowly. That's either the best or worst possible partner he could've asked for. He'll do the assignment on his own if it comes to that, but Kacchan's calmed down. He doesn't think this will go badly for him.
Quickly, on a piece of paper, Izuku writes a few words and passes it to Kacchan. There's a beat of silence after he reads it, then another before he moves. The paper is back on Izuku's desk. The response is simple and tells him everything he needs to know: my room. That's a yes.
Izuku spends the rest of the period and most of his classes working on their presentation. Stats he'll need to update, information he needs to double check. A clear and explosive way of getting people's attention so that he knows they'll actually hear him out.
And he's going to be heard. One way or another, they're going to listen.
At the end of the day, Izuku goes to Aizawa's desk after the class clears out.
"Aizawa-sensei," he asks quietly.
"What is it?"
"Could Kacchan and I have extra time on our presentation?"
"To prepare-"
"No, sensei. To present. Could we have a full period?" Aizawa's eyes widen when Izuku says it.
"Why, Problem Child? What have you done now?"
"It's a delicate topic," he says quietly, "and it means a lot to both of us. So, could we please have extra time to present?"
Aizawa waits a few seconds before responding. Izuku holds his breath. "I suppose. What is your topic going to be?"
"You'll see with everyone else, sensei," Izuku says quietly. Aizawa glares at him, and Izuku smiles. It's not as big as it normally is, but Izuku isn't feeling quite as carefree or unburdened as he usually tries to be. "Also, sensei, would it be okay if we went last?"
"Last? Don't you usually like to go first?"
"Yes, sensei, but it's a-"
"It's a fucking sensitive topic," echoes from the door. Izuku swings around to see Kacchan there, a scowl twisting his face and Kirishima at his back. "And we've got fucking things to do, Deku. Hurry the fuck up."
"You can present last," Aizawa says. His eyes bounce between them and Izuku doesn't say a word. He doesn't know what Aizawa sees. He doesn't know what he could say to assuage it.
"Katsuki, bro, don't cuss at sensei. Sorry, sensei! Katsuki is really excited about this project!"
"I can see that, Kirishima," Aizawa says flatly.
"Excited's not the fucking word I'd use," Kacchan says, but he doesn't blow anything up because Kirishima is holding one of his hands.
"Thank you, sensei." Izuku bows slightly. Aizawa's face contorts even more in his surprise. "I really appreciate the extra time."
"Damnit, Deku, come on."
"You're welcome, Midoriya. It looks like your partner is beginning to get impatient, so perhaps you should go." Izuku says good-bye one last time before Kacchan has a hand fisted in his jacket and is dragging him back toward the dorms. Izuku catches up and pulls himself free of Kacchan's grip, righting his clothes.
"Damn, Midori-bro. You usually go overboard with projects, but you don't usually ask permission first. What are you planning?"
"Um, I'd rather keep it quiet for now, if that's alright?" Izuku says, and even though he phrases it like a question, it's not. Word of this isn't getting out before they present. Izuku wants fresh, open-minds, and no recently come-to opinions going into this.
It's going to be a blitz.
"That's how you want to play this?" Kacchan asks. Izuku nods sharply.
"Surprise attack," Izuku confirms. "As long as you're on board?" Kacchan rolls his eyes, but glances toward Kirishima. Kirishima grins brightly, obviously intrigued.
"I'm sure whatever you guys decide to present on, it's going to be awesome! I don't mind waiting with the rest of the class." He beams at Kacchan as they enter the dorms. Most of the class is in the common room planning out their projects or relaxing before they start on anything. Ochako waves at Kirishima from across the room and he waves back. "Well, just be ready to be wow-ed by my project, too!"
"Whatever," Kacchan says, but he still drags Kirishima in for a kiss that has Izuku averting his eyes. Kirishima moves to join Ochako on the couch. He and Kacchan move up to Kacchan's room. The walk is made in silence, and maybe that's a good thing. Izuku isn't sure how to broach this.
"Are you fucking sure about this?" Kacchan asks, collapsing onto his bed.
"I mean, no? But I'm not going to change my mind about it."
"Dumbass," he says.
"Are you sure about this? Because, if I'm going to do this, that's one thing. But if we're going to do this..." Izuku motions between them. It's a difficult line to stradle, for them, between their history and their relationship and their emotions. Izuku has forgiven Kacchan, for everything that happened. And Kacchan has apologized, out loud yes, but in so many ways that Izuku has lost track. Not the least of those ways was going to sessions with Hound Dog to try to work on his mindset, and stepping in when he was off campus and saw a back alley beat down of a Quirkless kid.
Those kids used to be Izuku and Katsuki. It used to be Izuku and a lot of people.
"If we're going to do this, we're going to take it all the way," Izuku says.
"Don't phrase it like that," Kacchan groans. Izuku just stares, and Kacchan, though he'd never admit that it's what's happening, caves. "Yeah, dumbass, I'm sure."
"You aren't worried about whatever Kirishima's gonna think? Or your friends?"
"Ei already knows I used to be an asshole," Kacchan bites out. "He knows how big of an asshole I used to be. And the rest of those idiots... They can think whatever the fuck they want. They can do whatever the fuck they want. I'll probably fucking deserve it."
"You've changed, Kacchan. You're still trying to change. You deserve good things."
"So did you, for ten fucking years. I made sure you didn't have that, didn't I?" If there is one thing Izuku really does hate about their newfound friendship, their attempts at reconciliation, and Kacchan coming to terms with how he acted when they were kids, it's the guilt. Izuku doesn't want him to feel guilty. In his experience, guilt doesn't make anything better. It just makes people feel worse, and makes it harder to work on being better.
"I forgave you already," Izuku says, "and before you act like you don't deserve it, let me just say: sucks to fuckin' suck, don't it?" That startles a full laugh out of Kacchan, and Izuku grins.
After a few minutes, Kacchan sighs. "What about Icy-hot? And fuckin' Pink Cheeks? You don't think theyr'e going to treat you differently once they know?"
"I'm not worried about Shou," Izuku says, remembering Shouto's own brother, Natsuo. "And as for the rest of the class, I mean. They'll react how they react. I'll have you, and I'll have Shou. And really, the sooner I know, the better, right?" It's a transparent line, but Kacchan lets it by. Izuku's grateful.
"Whatever. So, obviously you have a plan already, or you wouldn't have signed us up for more fucking talking time. What are you thinking?"
"Well," Izuku says, and his expression and tone both turn grim. His idea, it's a risk and it's out there and it's terrifying to think about. It might not accomplish what he wants at all.
But as he explains, and Kacchan's eyes widen and he leans forward, enraptured by what Izuku is saying, shocked and disgusted and with his attention completely and solely on Izuku, Izuku thinks he's making the right call.
Fuck, he hopes this works out.
Shouta has been wondering if he should switch the pairs since he saw Midoriya's face when the assignment was announced. A look like that on the Problem Child's face was almost never a good thing, and paired with the Midoriya-Bakugou combination? Somehow, Shouta doubts his classroom will survive hearing their presentation.
But, the uncharacteristically somber look on Midoriya's face when he stayed after class to ask for special circumstances for himself and Bakugou had made Shouta pause. And even Bakugou's complete and utter lack of argument had been alarming. Shouta still doesn't, on the day of their presentation, know what they're presenting about. He doesn't know what their plan is. Shouta just has bone deep feeling that this is important for them, and so he's sitting back to see what happens with fire extinguishers on standby.
"Hey, guys," Midoriya says, standing in front of the class. Normally, for presentations, Midoriya takes notecards up with him so that he doesn't ramble off topic. Shouta always gives a few extra credit points to students who don't need them, but Midoriya's never taken advantage of that opportunity before. He is today. "I'm Midoriya,"
"Bakugou," Bakugou grunts, standing tall and stiff on the other side of where their presentation will come up.
"We took the liberty of asking Aizawa-sensei if we could take some extra time to present because the topic we're going to present is very nuanced and requires a lot of explanation for a true understanding. I know everybody was looking forward to having most of the period for free time, but it's not going to work out that way. Sorry." There are good-natured groans from around the room and Midoriya smiles apologetically.
"Alright, shut the fuck up. The more noise you make, the longer this is going to take," Bakugou snaps. The class quiets impressively quick. Shouta's genuinely not sure whether to award points for keeping the audience in line or deduct points for crude language.
"So," Midoriya takes a deep breath. "In we go." He clicks the button in his hand and the first slide pops up. It's a deep red with white text. The first thing Shouta notices is that neither of their names are attached to the project. He frowns slightly. They're both very grade oriented individuals, there's no reason they should've lost points for their names. Still, Shouta marks down the deductions, and only then does he notice the title. In bold, white text, in clearly reads: The Quirkless.
...a strange introduction, to say the least. It doesn't seem like his Problem Child's style, nor is it something the other Problem Child would go for.
Then, Midoriya takes a deep, sudden breath and closes his eyes. When he releases and opens them, they're cold and distant in a way that makes Shouta repress a shiver. Across the room, he can see Hitoshi is not quite so successful in his own attempt.
"There are some people, unlike you and me," Midoriya starts, and Shouta's frown deepens. That doesn't sound like something Midoriya would say, or how he would say it, "that don't have these special powers that we call Quirks." He takes another breath, takes a step across the room. He keeps talking and Shouta watches, listens.
"People who don't have these powers are called Quirkless." Midoriya spits the words with barely concealed disgust and most of the class flinch back. There are wide eyes, shocked faces. No one breathes a word. Shouta feels like he should stop this, but he can't, like he's the conductor of a derailing train.
"These people are more fragile than the rest of us." The slide clicks, more words and an image filling the screen. They'd asked not to send the powerpoint to Shouta until after they presented, and he's regretting okaying that now. He feels sick, this isn't-
"These people need your help to get through life," Midoriya says. "They are inclined to be shorter, to be weaker, to be able to withstand less. They may need your help getting a book from a high shelf because they cannot reach. They may break bones or bruise more easily than your average person. Sometimes, their bodies become injured without a clear cause, and the reason for this is because they are fragile."
The slide clicks again, and now it's a different one. Statistics so skewed on the board that Shouta almost can't comprehend them. Those numbers are not correct. The picture they paint is incredibly far from the truth, is damning and severe in a way the true numbers aren't, but for the life of him, Shouta can't remember even the ballpark of the correct numbers. The image is a photo of a tall building.
"Quirkless people are also mentally weaker than your average person. It's harder for them to grasp simple concepts, so you may need to help your Quirkless peer with his addition homework or explain a passage to him that you've already far surpassed. This may make him seem strange or stupid to you, but not everyone can achieve the same goals the same way, or even at all sometimes." Midoriya stares out at the class and mouths something that Shouta can't make out. Bakugou stands stone-faced and doesn't bat an eyelash. There's a few awkward beats of silence and then the slide clicks over again. The stats on this slide are the same, but the picture is now of an organization's logo.
"Due to their lowered level of intelligence and weaker mental faculties, Quirkless people are far more predisposed toward weaker endings than regular people. The rates of suicide among the Quirkless are seventy-five percent. The rates of depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses and weaknesses are even higher. Unfortunately, there is nothing that can be done about this. They simply do not have the ability to live life to the same quality that the rest of us experience." Midoriya clicks onto the next slide.
"The Quirkless often do not graduate school, or do anything with their lives. They find it difficult to survive, let alone have impact or be important. Many Quirkless end up living with their parents for the rest of their lives, unable to hold down jobs and support themselves."
Midoriya keeps clicking through slides, spouting statistics with no scientific backing that Shouta could recall, or from websites he had blatantly told his students not to use for research because of their extremely biased and unfounded views. He'd stopped keeping track of their points within the first minute, but he thinks they might be in the negatives now. Fuck, what had happened to his students?
Eventually, as the presentation drags on, some people start to object. Some of the students spoke out, some yelled, some stood up in their anger. Bakugou glares each and every one of them into submission, met every enraged quip and argument with a ruthless order for silence and order. Shouta watches it all happen, feeling faint. This is the sort of bullshit nonsense he expects from half-rate villains, not two of his best students.
"And that concludes that," Midoriya says, and he blinks like he's coming out of a trance. Something about the way he said makes Shouta sit up straighter, look closer. The rest of the class is still arguing and Bakugou is still shutting them down with efficiency and apathy, but Shouta watches Midoriya. Looking closely, he can see that Midoriya's hands are shaking. He can see that there are tears gathering in his eyes. And it clicks for, Shouta.
Midoriya hadn't written that. Neither had Bakugou. He was reciting something from memory.
"How could you," snarls Todoroki. Shouta realizes one of his legs is frozen to the chair he'd claimed in the back of the class. The room is freezing. Todoroki is standing up, leaning forward over his desk. "How could you, Izuku?" The ice spreads. Shouta activates his Quirk on Todoroki, but he doesn't even notice that the ice stops expanding around him. "My brother is Quirkless and you know that. You know that and you still had the fucking audacity to get up there and say that? You think that and you fucking-"
"Shut up, Todoroki," Bakugou snaps, and now he's half a step in front of Midoriya, arms spread slightly.
"Don't even get me started on you," Todoroki says, and all his icy indifference from his first year is replaced with the kind of subzero cold that will give you frostbite on impact.
"Guys, maybe we should-" Kirishima starts, looking confused and hurt but still trying to keep the peace.
"You're dating that asshole!" Ashidou shouts, throwing an accusing finger toward Bakugou. "He just stood up there and agreed with all those awful things Midoriya said, and you're going to defend him?"
"Mina, come on," starts Kirishima.
"Mina is right," Tokoyami voices. "And I never would have expected Midoriya, of all people, to have such unfounded, disrespectful, and horrifying views on people for something so out of their control." The disdain is clear.
"I trusted you, Midoriya," Hitoshi says, and the broken quality to his voice almost makes Shouta snap. Midoriya shrinks under his gaze. The class is on the edge of a riot. Iida chops his arms to get attention and try to bring back order, but even those motions are half-there and he keeps sending confused glances toward Midoriya. Midoriya, at least, doesn't try to defend himself even once and dig his grave a centimeter deeper than he already has. The class is entrenched in chaos and yelling util-
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Bakugou bellows, and a silence falls clearly. "Sit down." When Mina opens her mouth, Bakugou growls at her. "Sit the fuck down, now. All of you. You have shit to say. You should get to say it-"
"What, because we're not Quirkless?" demands Todoroki.
"But shit isn't going to get done if everyone yells. Sit the fuck down and take turns," Bakugou continues, and he doesn't even spare a glare for Todoroki. Once the class settles slightly and it's quiet, Shouta can feel the tension like a rubber band stretched to its limit, except once it snaps it's going to kickstart a hurricane with an entire class of heroes-in-training, which will prove more destructive than any wind ever could.
"Deku," Uraraka says, voice soft. At the front, Midoriya flinches back. Bakugou almost moves back in front of him, but at a glance, keeps to his place next to Midoriya's side. "Why would you say things like that? I know you-you don't really believe that, right?"
"And those statistics about crime rates," Iida adds. "Really, all of the statistics you showed seemed to be grossly misleading at best, if not entirely inaccurate and made of lies."
"Yeah?" Bakugou questions, not giving Midoriya the chance to answer. Going off the look on his face, Shouta doesn't think he could if he tried. "What are the stats, then? What are the facts, if you know so much about them? Have you ever heard anybody else present about Quirkless people? Have you ever been educated on the Quirkless before?" He pauses, and it's delicate. "Have you ever met a Quirkless person before?"
Iida has his phone out before the questions finish. Shouta goes to reprimand him, but then Iida's face slackens.
"I've...never been educated on Quirkelss people before," Uraraka says slowly. "But that just doesn't seem right-"
"Oh," Bakugou says, "so you'd rather go off of your gut feeling instead of listening to us, when we've researched the topic for a full week and compiled all of this information together? You know how seriously Izuku takes his grades. He wouldn't compromise himself like that."
Shouta shifts again when Bakugou calls Midoriya by his given name instead his hero name. He's not the only person in the room to notice the change. That means something, but he has no idea what.
Then, before Uraraka can answer, Iida says, "My apologies, Midoriya, Bakugou. It appears that the statistics you listed are the ones that come up when I search for the information as well."
"Alright," Shouta says, getting the attention of less than half his class. He's going to stop this before it gets out of hand in a destructive way.
"It's alright, Tenya," Midoriya says, and his voice shakes. Shouta starts to stand. "You don't need to apologize. And I have a point, sensei. I promise." He's not crying yet, but Shouta doesn't know how long that will hold out. Midoriya takes another deep, centering breath.
"I've never told anyone in the class this, but my Quirk came in late." When Ashidou starts to say something, Bakugou glares her down again. She goes, but not willingly. "Like, really late."
"What, were you six?" asks Jirou, just as dismissive as everyone else is.
"Try fifteen," Midoriya says. There's dead silence in the room. He wipes his eyes and sniffles. "It was the day of the Entrance Exam, actually.
"None of your schools ever educated you about Quirkless people, right?" he asks. He doesn't wait for a response, and he can't bring himself to look out at the class. "I'd be willing to bet that there probably weren't any Quirkless people in your schools, since we're a dying breed and all. My school did educate us, and it's most likely because I was there. This presentation," he motions to the board behind him, "is word for word, slide for slide, picture for picture, the presentation that the principals gave to the entire school every year, while I was forced to sit front and center, like a circus attraction. It was, of course, under the guise of helping me."
"Wait," Ashidou says. "If they weren't trying to help, what were they doing?"
"Didn't you listen, Raccoon Eyes?" Bakugou asks, and there is no customary anger in his voice. Despite this, there is passion there, and something lurking just underneath that Shouta can't pinpoint. "Quirkless people are weak and stupid. They're a dying breed," Bakugou repeats Midoriya's words from just a minute earlier, but they're said with enough venom that Ashidou flinches. Mockingly, Bakugou continues, "Make sure you get a look at the freak. Make sure you can recognize him so that you treat him the way he deserves to be treated in the hall." Behind him, Midoriya flinches but looks up to see the class. Shouta shivers again, but this time with a rage at the implication underlining Bakugou's words, the pain reflected there.
"This kind of indoctrination is very damaging," Midoriya says. "Not only to me, but also to everyone at our school."
"While Izuku got treated like shit," Bakugou says, and the class shifts. There's a collective start, like they're all realizing just what the pair is saying, "the rest of us," and Shouta cannot miss the loathing in the word us when Bakugou says it, "were encouraged to treat him like shit. Adults turned a blind eye whenever they saw what we were doing, unless Izuku tried to do anything to defend himself. Then he got in trouble."
"These kinds of responses lead to a variety of problems that the children this burden was placed upon have to face later in life, such as a superiority complex, inherent discriminatory behaviors, false thought processes, the internalization of misinformation, possible PTSD, and," Midoriya pauses.
"Regret," Bakugou says, "and guilt." There's a heavy silence at the admission, at the look on Bakugou's face.
"That's why we decided to do our project on Quirk discrimination and the long-lasting, negative effects it has not only on victims, but also the people who were taught to believe in and perpetuate it." The slide clicks. This one is plain, soft gray. It says: Quirkless and Quirk Discrimination and the Far-Reaching Consequences. Underneath, in smaller script, it reads: by Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki.
Hands still shaking, Midoriya clicks the slide over again, and there are suddenly notecards in his hand. This is much more the Problem Child that Shouta is used to, that he was expecting at the start of all this.
"The true statistics are the first thing you need to know," Midoriya says, and moves aside to expose the board. There are gasps.
"The suicide rate among Quirkless people is actually closer to ninety percent than seventy-five," Bakugou says. "There are two reasons that the number isn't higher than that. The first is that most members of the population are well into old age and lived in a time where being Quirkless was more accepted."
"The second reason," Midoriya says, "is because they took the option of Quirkless off of the census and all other government issued paperwork. They no longer track the number of Quirkless people in the population, or anything about them." There's another click as the slide changes. This one just reads: DYING BREED starkly across the entire screen. After a moment, the slide clicks over again. "This means that, likely, that the number of Quirkless people in the world is higher than what we're told it is and letting us believe that it's not is deliberate misinformation spread, to what end I don't know."
"I think it's a ploy to make Quirkless people give up," Bakugou says, "because so many fuckers already think they're weak and incapable. They want Quirkless people to think there are less of them than there really are."
They go on to talk about the lack of legal protections made for Quirkless people, as they were all written in a time when Quirkless was the norm and Quirked people were the ones who needed protection. They discuss the very high rates of crime, and the equally high rates of homelessness. The discrimination present in most jobs and the refusal to higher someone who seems so lesser. They discuss how most headlines involving Quirkless people paint them as weak or criminals, and either way a drain on society. They discuss the discrimination they have to face a daily basis, and Midoriya's voice goes carefully even when he says it, like he's recounting his personal experience while trying not to be affectd by it.
They bring up the violent altercations, crimes committed on Quirkless people, the petty things and the life-ruining ones. The inaccurate information on government pages because they don't keep tabs on the Quirkless like they do everyone else.
Then, they discuss the problems that come from those experiences. PTSD, often times, an inferiority complex, feeling like they have no place in society, feeling useless and pointless. The problems for people on the other side. Feelings of regret and guilt after realizing what you did, a superiority complex so you refuse to listen to anyone else, at the best internalizing that a whole minority of people are weaker than you and constantly need your protection and at worst thinking they need to be wiped out.
(And privately, Shouta can't help but think that they're describing each other, in their first year.)
"Which I have been told," Midoriya adds quietly, "to my face. More than once. These problems are real, and they are constantly affecting people."
The presentation ends ten minutes after class is over. Not a single person leaves early. There is no clapping or congratulations when it's finished. Just deep, contemplative silence.
"Also," Midoriya adds when it's finally over and nobody knows what to say, "I just want to thank everyone. You all reacted in the ways I was hoping you would, to that first part. I just wasn't expecting you to be quite that...angry about it, I guess."
"Midoriya," Kaminari says, "that was seriously fucked up. Of course we're mad about it."
"I mean, I sat through years of hearing that exact speech directed at me and it never once occurred to me that it wasn't okay. I never even got mad about it. So. I just." He shrugs helplessly. "I didn't really know what to expect."
"Izuku," Todoroki says, and makes his way to the front. He grabs Midoriya roughly in a hug and mutters something Shouta can't make out. Shouta counts to ten before he decides to break it up.
"Alright, that's enough. All of you, get your things and head back to the dorms," he orders. "All your presentation grades will be in by Monday. Have a good weekend."
Slowly, the class files out. He can see the assessing looks the self-proclaimed Bakusquad is giving Bakugou. He can see the way Midoriya's friends hang off his arms like they're afraid to let go.
Shouta doesn't blame them. It's been a day of realizations, for the whole class. They'll come out on top of it, they always do. He'll have to talk to his two students about what happened between them before U.A., and at their old schools. In the meantime, though, while everyone recovers...
Shouta has a school to look into.