Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kacchan is missing. Kacchan is gone and it’s all Izuku’s fault. Everyone is telling him it isn’t, but he knows the truth. 

The thought makes him sick. When the hospital staff comes to deliver his food, it looks somehow more unappetizing than normal hospital food. This isn’t too unusual, as stressful situations have often pushed Izuku to intense nausea. 

He pushes his food aside, untouched, as his classmates enter his room. 

“Yo, Midori-bro!” Calls Kirishima, more enthusiastic than Izuku has seen him since the training camp. “Yaoyorozu said she would help us, and gave us a copy of the tracking device she put on the Nomu - we might just have a chance to find Bakubro!”

Izuku feels a rush of hope, plans already forming in his head. They might be able to save Kacchan, after all.

----------------

Somehow, miraculously, their plan worked. They were able to sneak in, practically unnoticed, and get Kacchan out of the hands of the League. 

The League, which is apparently run by All for One. Izuku knew it was a possibility, but having it confirmed makes his stomach roll with anxiety. 

He currently stands with the rest of the rescue team and Kacchan, watching with bated breath as All Might throws one last, victorious punch at All for One. For a moment, everyone is completely silent. Smoke steams off of All Might, blocking the camera recording the fight. 

The smoke clears. Instead of All Might’s hulking form, they now see tall, thin Yagi. Blood trails from his mouth, and his hero costume hangs limply on him. 

He slowly raises an arm, pointing toward the camera. “You’re next.”

The crowd stills. Then, they roar. 

A strange combination of joy, giddiness, and sudden dread swirl in Izuku’s gut. Those two simple words were directed at him, he knows. Tears drip down his face and he brings up a hand to unsuccessfully stifle his sobs. 

If he’d had anything in his stomach, it might have been lost. As it stands, the hollowness in his stomach is a comforting almost-distraction for the increasingly heavy weight (the weight of a responsibility, of a symbol, of an expectation) he now feels on his shoulders. 

--------------

Though it’s a relief to have Kacchan out of the hands of the League, Izuku draws little comfort from it. It had been his fault Kacchan had been taken in the first place. If he had been just a little faster, a little stronger, he might have been able to pull his childhood friend out of the way before the portal closed. 

If he had been better, All Might would still have his hero form. 

Instead, Izuku is left with the painful reminder that he is supposed to be All Might’s successor. Meant to be better, even, than the Symbol of Peace. Meant to take down the League, eventually. 

Even with All for One locked in Tartarus, there is always the possibility he won’t stay there. The thought makes Izuku shudder. 

How is he supposed to defeat the League - defeat All for One - become the next All Might, when he can’t get through a simple villain fight without being seriously injured? When he still feels so far behind his classmates? 

He’s known for a while now that he was going to succeed All Might, one day. He just never expected it to be this soon. 

All Might was an unstoppable figure, even after Izuku found out his secret. He couldn’t be beaten. He stood strong as the Symbol of Peace, smile never faltering. 

And now, that Symbol of Peace is gone. It’s up to Izuku now. 

The thought adds more weight to his already slumped shoulders. 

“Izuku! Time for dinner!” His mother calls from the kitchen. 

He joins her, taking his seat at the table. A mountain of curry sits in front of him. It makes his stomach church uncomfortably. 

They begin eating, and he picks at his food with his chopsticks, occasionally bringing small bites of rice to his mouth. 

His mother, ever perceptive, takes notice. 

“Izuku, honey, are you feeling okay?” She had been initially furious when he’d returned home from his impromptu rescue mission, but after seeing the look on his face, had grown instead worried. That same worry shows up now. 

“I’m okay, Mom,” he answers quietly. “Just… not super hungry, sorry.” 

She furrows her brows further. “I… okay. You don’t have to finish, if you’re not feeling well. Just, please promise you’ll tell me if something is wrong?”

And now he’s making his mom worry. He’s never been great at hiding his emotions, but now he wishes he could, if only to ease her mind. Instead, he nods, trying for a small smile and a quiet “Okay, I will.” 

He returns his food and walks back to his room. Lying on his bed and staring at the wall, he finds a small comfort in the low rumbling of his stomach, combatting his racing thoughts. 

----------------

School resumes the next day. Izuku, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Uraraka get a thorough chastisement from Aizawa, but in a show of mercy, he only puts them on temporary probation. 

The rest of the day, and the rest of that week, goes by quickly, almost outside of Izuku’s notice. If he focuses hard enough, he can remember certain details. Everything else is fuzzy, and details slip out of his reach like sand sifting through fingers. 

It should probably worry him more than it does, but as things stand, Izuku can’t bring himself to care. Not when it feels like his whole life has changed, while the world keeps moving without him. 

His nausea has eased up, as it usually does, but even so, can’t bring himself to eat all of his lunch every day. Instead, he sits and picks at it, trying to keep conversation with his friends. Most things slide away from his notice, but he puts on a smile and simply says he’s tired when his friends ask him what’s wrong.  

His mom still watches him as if he is fragile, so he makes more of an effort to put on a smile and be as okay as he can be. It works well enough that she allows him to move into the dorms, despite her obvious reluctance, when Yagi comes to explain the new system to them. 

It still makes Izuku’s head spin when he thinks about how sincerely Yagi had promised to look out for him. It had lifted some of the weight, but also added to his already guilty conscience. 

A blink later, and he’s moved into the dorms with his other classmates. The room decorating competition had been fun - a nice change of pace. 

That night, even in a new space, Izuku manages to fall asleep without troubles for the first time in a while. 

-----------------

Izuku ducks and rolls under Ashido’s acid-covered kick. It takes more energy than he’d like to admit to jump back up, even with One for All at 8%. 

He has to jump back from a spray of acid, then runs back in to try to kick her knees out from under her. Ashido leaps back in one smooth moment, then rushes toward him faster than Izuku expects, knocking him to the ground and holding him there. 

“Woah, I didn’t think I’d actually win that one!” Ashido exclaims, pumping her arms up victoriously. She then extends a hand to Izuku, bringing him up to his feet. 

He tries to hide the way his vision starts going black for a moment, but ends up swaying slightly. Ashido frowns at him. “Are you okay, Midori? You look kinda pale.”

“Yeah, I’m okay!” Izuku tries his best to bring enthusiasm and a smile with his words. 

Truthfully, he’s exhausted. This week’s training has been… different than usual. He’s somehow low on energy, and finds himself with small bouts of light-headedness when he tries to execute more difficult moves. 

It makes sense, logically. He’s lower on sleep than usual, and still hasn’t fully gained his appetite back. 

He ignores his logical side and instead chooses to believe it’s because he needs to work harder - he isn’t good enough yet, and needs to be better. He can’t let some stupid dizziness get in his way, especially now that they’re preparing for their provisional hero licenses. 

“Nice fight, Ashido.” Aizawa says from the side. “Be careful not to waste too much of your acid while you spar - it could prove disastrous if you run dry during a real villain fight, in the future.”  

She gives him a sharp salute with a broad grin. 

“Midoriya, that was sloppy. Be more aware and ready to move, next time.”

Izuku nods guiltily. He walks to the side next to Todoroki, who hands him a water bottle. Izuku knows him well enough to take that as the sign of concern that it is. 

“I’m alright, Todoroki. Thanks for the water.”

Todoroki nods his head, though he doesn’t look away from Izuku for a couple more seconds. Izuku promptly ignores him in favor of taking a few gulps of water, hoping it will help clear his head. 

The next round of sparring starts, drawing Izuku’s attention away from his classmates subtly looking at him in thinly-veiled concern. 

-----------------

Izuku smiles - truly smiles - for the first time in what feels like a very long time. He’s done it! Even his horrific picture on his license can’t bring down his giddy mood. 

The exam wasn’t easy, and there were several moments where it had been hard to think, hard to move, but he and his classmates had made it through. Toga invading the exam hadn’t been expected, but luckily, nobody had been hurt. For once, Izuku doesn’t allow the League’s looming threat to dampen his spirits. 

He had worked hard for this. Trained longer than usual in his room, waking up earlier to go on his daily run, pushed himself during hero exercises, and it had finally paid off. Some of the weight has lifted, allowing him a breath of fresh air. He can allow himself this one victory, right? 

Izuku is quick to send a picture of his new license to Yagi and his mother, before joining his classmates as they walk to the bus. 

They are both proud and enthusiastic, and Izuku’s mother insists on treating him to his favorite meal as a reward. He makes the arrangements with Aizawa, and that weekend, he is able to go home for the first time since he’s moved to the dorms. 

It’s nice to be home. He can’t imagine how lonely his mother must have been without him around. He should visit her more often, especially if she is going to make food like this. 

The steaming bowl of katsudon is practically sparkling with how delicious it looks. For the first time in a while, Izuku feels hungry. Really, really hungry. 

It had been easy to ignore when he was really stressed about the licensing exam and everything relating to the whole “Kacchan-captured-by-the-League” thing, but now that some of that stress has been resolved, Izuku is starving. 

He holds himself back from shoveling the food into his mouth, but only barely. 

After a few minutes, more than half the plate is gone, and his stomach is already uncomfortably full. That’s strange, Izuku realizes, because he usually eats more than this plate, at least 3 times a day, to keep up with his increased metabolism due to One for All. 

The food sits like a leaden weight in his stomach, suddenly. It pushes uncomfortably on his stomach, and he clutches at it for a moment, confused at the sensation. 

“Izuku, baby, are you alright? Is the food okay?”

Izuku jolts his head up to catch his mother looking at him in concern. Again. Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration and smiles, but here Izuku goes, bringing down the mood over something as stupid as… whatever this is. 

“Ah, s-sorry, Mom! I’m alright, and the food is delicious!” He tries to emphasize his point by bringing another spoonful into his mouth. Some distant part of his mind screams at him that he shouldn’t be doing that. He dutifully ignores it, taking another bite, even as his stomach protests. 

His mother doesn’t look like she believes it, but she nods anyway. 

They continue their conversation, which mainly consists of Izuku rambling on and on about the exam and the quirks he saw there. 

She smiles warmly at him. It works wonders to keep the weight off, and he can feel some long-held tension slowly bleed away. 

-----------------

Living in the dorms is definitely a change of pace. For one, Izuku isn’t used to having more than one other person in his living space, let alone 19 other lively teenagers.  

That fact alone leads to, predictably, a lot of chaos. What Izuku is used to being quiet study time, or time to catch up on recent hero news, is now taken up by much of the class playing video games and engaging in other tomfoolery. 

Izuku ends up spending most evenings doing homework in his room, though he will occasionally join his friends for group study that usually ends up dissolving into meaningless chatter. It’s a nice change of pace. 

His mother tried her absolute best, and he loves her for it, but there had been many times when she would be out of the house in the evenings due to her busy work schedule. And Izuku, without any friends, would spend many evenings alone. Having real friends to be around all day is, surprisingly, quite wonderful. 

They quickly work out a meal rotation, assigning various classmates to cook, pick up groceries, and clean up afterwards. This leads to them spending most dinners all crowded together. 

For some reason, this kicks up Izuku’s anxiety, especially the first few times. He attributes it to there being more people than he’s used to, and pushes through most meals. 

He’s still not particularly hungry most days, so he grabs smaller portions than he normally would, but nobody comments on it. He does try to eat it all though, even when that small, traitorous voice in his mind tries to talk him out of it. 

On nights when his plate is fully eaten, and he even goes to get seconds or thirds because his stomach is full but he feels some desperate need to eat more , some part of him feels regret. He forcefully pushes that part in a dark corner of his mind, where it won’t be noticed or felt again. Hopefully.

Some days, when his anxiety goes overboard when he tries to think about dinner with his classmates, he ends up leaving to go eat something small in his room instead. 

Iida or Uraraka will often bring up leftovers, because they’re incredible friends like that, and Izuku usually ends up leaving it sitting on his desk. 

He tells himself he’ll eat it later. 

He never does. 

--------------------

Izuku brings up his hand to grab his pencil, ready to pack up before lunch, only to notice it shaking. Not harshly, but his fingers are quivering, and when he tries to make it stop, it only grows worse. 

“Yo, Midoriya, you good? You look like you’re shaking,” Sero quips from the seat next to Izuku. 

He lowers his hand to his desk, glancing at Sero quickly. “O-oh, yeah, haha. It must be, uh, my arthritis, or maybe I’m just nervous for my internship, I guess?” 

It holds some semblance of the truth. He truly is nervous to be interning with Sir Nighteye, the only sidekick All Might has ever had. Granted, he doesn’t officially start for a few more days, but his nerves still get the better of him when he thinks about Nighteye’s harsh criticism and obvious disdain for Izuku. 

So, that is probably a contributor to the whole hand-shakiness. Izuku has been noticing it happening more and more recently. Otherwise, he isn’t fully sure. 

(And sure, maybe he does know why, but he can still pretend, right?)

Sero seems to accept his answer with an easy shrug and a grin. 

Izuku tries not to act too relieved as he hurriedly shoves his backpack on his shoulders and speed-walks away. His friends wait for him right outside the door.

They chatter about nothing too important as they head towards the cafeteria. Right before they enter, Izuku ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. 

“S-sorry, guys. I just, uh, remembered that All Might and I are meeting during lunch, so I’ve got to go!” 

“What, again?” Asks Uraraka. “That’s like, the second time this week, and it’s only Wednesday.” 

In all reality, Izuku isn’t meeting with All Might. He just… doesn't want to head to the cafeteria for lunch, yet again. It puts an unnameable dread in the pit of his stomach, and his anxiety has been even worse than his new usual, today. Can you blame him? 

He opens his mouth to respond, flush creeping up his neck, but Iida thankfully jumps in. 

“Meeting with our teachers is a very important occasion, Uraraka-san!” He chops his arm forcefully. “We really shouldn’t press too much. Just make sure you eat enough to stay properly fueled for training this afternoon!” 

He sends a glance towards Izuku, who sheepishly nods. “I will, Iida-kun, don’t worry. I’ll, uh, see you after lunch?” 

They both look sufficiently appeased. Todoroki and Tsuyu, ever observant, glance over at him in suspicion for a moment. 

He sends them as bright of a smile as he can (why is it so hard to do that now? He wonders distantly) and they all turn away after a quick wave. 

Izuku lets out a sigh of relief. 

A few days prior Izuku had discovered an empty, seemingly abandoned classroom in the corner of the 2nd floor. He slips in that same room now, closing it silently. 

Dust covered tables and chairs are stacked up against one wall, and boxes filled with a random assortment of extra materials are scattered around the rest of the room. It’s smaller than most other classrooms, and has a slight scent of something old, but it’s unnoticed by everyone and is even missing the surveillance cameras that are present in every other room on campus. 

It’s perfect. 

Here, Izuku can just be himself. He settles in a small nook hidden between boxes and exhales, sinking his head onto his knees. In this room, he can calm his racing mind and try to settle his shaking hands. Here, he doesn’t have to be Deku, the perfect hero course student and All Might’s protegee. 

Especially with the dorms in place, it has become even harder for Izuku to take time to himself and feel fully relaxed. It’s almost as if the air pressuring his chest is released, at least a little.

He stays there, curled into himself and simply breathing, until the end of lunch comes. 

The weight settles back on his shoulders as he stands, ready to return to class for the rest of the day. 

--------------------

Izuku nearly slams his door behind him as he enters his room. He has enough common sense to stop its momentum before it does, lest he cause more of a disturbance than he already has. 

He’s just so… frustrated. He doesn’t get angry often, but when he does, it burns white-hot in his gut. It seems that he gets angry more often than usual, lately. 

Why is he so upset? Iida had been in the middle of one of his concerned lectures, going on about the “importance of a balanced, full diet” in an effort to get Izuku to stay for dinner. In typical Iida-fashion, the words had been loud and drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Which is to say, all of Izuku’s classmates. 

Iida continued, unbothered. “You’ve skipped out on several meals with the class, Midoriya-kun, and it is important to take that time to bond together!”

“Iida-kun, please, I’m good. I-I’ll join you guys tomorrow, okay?” 

They were all staring, now, making Izuku feel hot and uncomfortable. Why couldn’t Iida just leave him be? 

“Yeah, c’mon, Midoriya!” shouted Hagakure. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Tsuyu said, tapping her chin. “We are all just a little worried, I think, kero.” 

Kaminari spoke up from the couch. “Yeah dude, you’ve seemed a little off lately. Is everything okay?”

Everyone nodded emphatically, and it only made him feel both too small and shoved in the spotlight at the same time. Like a cornered animal. (And why should he feel like that? These are his classmates - he trusts them wholeheartedly. Why is he so scared?)

“I’m fine !” Izuku shouted, louder than he intended. Now they all look more worried. For some reason, the embarrassment makes him angrier. He can’t be here anymore. 

As he rushed out of the room to go up the stairs, all eyes still trailing him. 

So now here he is, fuming and pacing in his room. Why did they all care? He knows he should be joining them more often, but it’s just too much sometimes. Why can’t they understand that? 

More than that, though, Izuku is upset at himself for being so upset. They were just being good friends. Why did this bother him so much? This whole ordeal feels so much different from Izuku’s usual mess of issues. 

Anxiety is a familiar friend to Izuku, and he’s mostly learned to manage it. Even still, it almost never leaves, settling over him and making him more paranoid and cautious of everyone and everything. 

But, since coming to U.A., things had been so much better. Even with the pressure of training and villain attacks, the simple comfort of learning that his classmates and teachers weren’t out to get him and genuinely appreciated him (and how weird is that ) had helped his anxiety lower by leaps and bounds. 

It still feels too good to be true, sometimes. Like one day he’ll wake up from this wonderful dream and they will all know who he really is. That they’ll all treat him like he deserves. 

But now, it’s like all of his progress has been lost in one fell swoop. He feels so tense and heavy and tight all the time, like he can’t ever fully relax. 

And now, it’s gotten bad enough that his peers have started to notice. 

The more Izuku thinks about it, the more guilt he feels about the whole ordeal. His friends hadn’t even said anything out of the ordinary, and yet he’d reacted so strongly.

He’s still feeling wound up and angry, despite his best efforts to calm down, and it only makes him more upset. He should be better than this. He has been better than this. UA is different, and he has real friends, and he is competent and capable ( only sometimes , his mind helpfully supplies). He has a quirk and is being mentored by All Might. 

So why is he letting something as simple as a… what, concerned confrontation at best? Mess with him this much. 

Strangely, it feels like Izuku is losing control over his emotions and even some motor functions. He can’t even pick up a pencil without his hands shaking, most of the time. And though he is famous for the “Midoriya waterworks” as his classmates endearingly call it, he is still able to exercise some self control. What’s changed? Why can’t he just be normal, for once in his life? 

The thought makes his frustration burn bright and sharp in the front of his mind. 

Regardless, he shouldn’t have snapped at his classmates. It had only worked to draw more attention to him and his lack of appetite, and really, they shouldn’t be bothering themselves with that. 

The more time he spends stewing over it, the more his anger turns to dread. How quickly did he just ruin his relationships with his first and only friends? Will they hate him forever? Will they only become more concerned and pushy? Izuku doesn’t know if he can handle that much attention. 

He wishes more than anything that he could sink into the floor and disappear. 

His classmates leave him alone for the rest of the night, to which Izuku is grateful. The next day, he resolves to put on his brightest smile and be more present with the rest of the class. 

Nobody mentions the previous night’s incident, and Izuku is happy to leave it be. He’s got everything under control, and everyone should just forget anything ever happened. 

But when has it ever been that simple? 

------------------

(When he lays in bed that night, riddled with guilt, he draws some sick comfort in the emptiness of his growling stomach. He’s both hungry, and not, and it’s strange. 

It shouldn’t bring him comfort. But it does .)

Chapter Text

Interning under Nighteye has been completely different from what Izuku expected. 

Though he had known that Sir might hold some contempt for Izuku because he got One for All, he hadn’t anticipated it being quite this bad. 

Even though it had been only a few days, Izuku hadn’t seen Sir Nighteye look him in the eye more than a handful of times, even when giving him important directions and information. He almost ignored Izuku entirely, actually, preferring to give instructions to Togata, who was assigned to keep watch of his kouhai. 

Even then, instructions were sparse and filled with thinly-veiled loathing. It made a lump form in Izuku’s throat, and brought a tension to his muscles he couldn’t shake during his patrol. 

In contrast, he hadn’t expected Togata to be so nice . He seemed to genuinely enjoy Izuku’s presence, and did his best to explain the processes and procedures behind everything. 

The beginning of their patrol was almost… fun. Togata brought a certain life and energy to everything. Between smiling at civilians and putting them at ease, and maintaining an easy conversation with Izuku (which is not an easy feat), he seemed to glow like the sun. No wonder Nighteye wanted him to receive One for All. 

Everything had been going smoothly, and Izuku could feel a soft smile starting to form subconsciously, when a small figure ran into his legs. 

Which brings him to the third thing he didn’t expect on his internship. 

Eri . 

While Izuku knew that horrible things often happened in the underground world, he never expected anything quite this bad. 

Eri, a child , had shown clear signs of abuse. Between her bandaged arms, the way she held herself, how she flinched from the man ( Chisaki - Izuku now knew ) who claimed to be her father, and how she desperately held to Izuku, pleading with him to not let her go back with him, it all made Izuku feel sick to his stomach. 

It had taken everything in him to follow Togata’s lead and let her return to that man. 

Apparently, Eri’s “father” had been Overhaul - the head of the Eight Precepts of Death, one of Sir Nighteye’s current cases. Only, now it was ten times worse, because he has a defenseless little girl. 

A girl he seemingly abuses. 

How could Izuku have let her get away? Regardless of the consequences, she was a terrified child who didn’t deserve anything she was given. He should have done something. 

With One for All, he could have been quick enough to get her back to the safety of Nighteye’s agency. He could have fought back. He could have done something, anything . 

The shame sits heavy in Izuku’s gut. Even after reassurance that they couldn’t have done anything, that they had acted exactly as they should have, hasn’t lessened Izuku’s disgust at his lack of action. 

Here, in the safety of his room, he sits and thinks. He’s already written down a thorough analysis of Chisaki and Eri and what little he knows of the Shie Hissaikai case, but it still isn’t enough. 

His nails dig painfully into his palms, bringing little comfort. 

He should be better than this. He was given a sacred responsibility and an incredible power - what good is having an overpowered quirk if he can’t do anything with it? 

All Might trusted him with this power. But what has he managed to do with it? Get Kacchan captured by villains? Break his own bones over and over again because it took him too long to understand his own quirk? Failed to save the little girl who was right in front of him from the monster she faces every day? 

Nothing has changed since he received One for All. He’s still the same, deep down, despite what others think. 

Still a useless Deku.

He stays lost in his thoughts for the rest of that night.

--------------------

Ochako is worried, and she knows she isn’t the only one. 

Deku has been acting really strange, lately. She’s dealt with enough stress to know what it looks and feels like, and for the last few weeks Deku has displayed almost every sign she knows of. 

And she’s especially worried because it’s not getting any better. In fact, if Ochako would say it’s getting worse. 

Most people assume that she’s not very intelligent, if only because of her bubbly personality. And sure, maybe her grades aren’t the absolute best, but she knows how to read people. Growing up with overworked parents has helped her to have deep knowledge of when someone is stressed, or hiding something, or feeling down on themself.

And Deku is most certainly all three of those things. 

It’s surprising how well he hides it, most of the time, considering he usually wears his heart on his sleeve (a trait that Ochako absolutely adores about him). She’s known for a while that he is an anxious wreck, and can find a way to overthink just about anything, but… this is deeper than that. 

These past few weeks, right around when they returned to school after the whole summer-training-camp-fiasco, he had started withdrawing into himself again. Almost becoming who Ochako knew at the beginning of the year - except now instead of just being jumpy and stuttering, he was so quiet . 

His rambling tendencies slowed, and even when he spoke with their classmates, it was with downcast eyes and a hunched posture. He spoke less during lunch and their walks to the dorms after school, and rarely raised his hand during classes. 

He also gets distracted easily, even during training. That’s how she knows it’s bad - Deku takes hero training more seriously than anyone she knows. 

She had been so excited to move into the dorms. A chance to be around her best friends all the time was like a dream come true, especially after living alone in her apartment since the beginning of the school year. 

And it has been amazing! She’s loved being around her classmates, who are all so much fun, but seeing Deku withdraw more and more in the past few weeks has cast a cloud over the festivities. 

Ochako knows that he makes excuses to withdraw. She can’t entirely blame him - she knows their classmates are a lot, and can respect the need for alone time. But Deku spends most of his time in his room, from what Ochako can tell. 

And that would be fine, if he would just look like himself when he does show up. But even when he’s around, it seems like he’s not fully there. His eyes will often wander to the ground and unfocus, and he won’t chime in to most conversations. The darkness under his eyes has only been growing. 

He tries valiantly to hide it. Ochako can see it in the way he forces his smiles and tries to engage with their classmates. In the way he brushes off concern with quick reassurances and redirects to other topics. 

But she can also see the way the light in his eyes is dimming. In the way his face falls when he thinks no one is looking. In the way he holds himself - like he’s small and unworthy of attention. 

That hurts Ochako more than anything. Deku is her best friend in the whole world, and he seems to think that he’s less than what he is. 

To Ochako, Deku is a shining light. Even in the beginning, when he couldn’t say two words without stuttering, and stumbling over his feet all the time, she could tell that he was something special. 

He fights with his whole heart to make a difference. He is friendly to everyone he meets and will do anything to make his friends feel better. 

Everyone in the class looks up to him. They draw energy from his passion and watch with fondness when he rambles on about their quirks or some new hero he’s learning about. 

He doesn’t quite realize it, but to Ochako, he is already one of the best heroes there could be. 

Which is why, when he’d started to change, for whatever reason, it had immediately caught Ochako’s attention. 

She tried giving him some space, at first, hoping that the issue would resolve itself quickly and she could have Deku back up and running, working as hard as ever to become a hero. Then, she’d tried pushing a little more, asking more questions and receiving nothing in return. 

He’d even begun to snap at them, on occasion. Ochako can tell he doesn’t mean it, especially when he tiredly apologizes afterward, but it does sting sometimes. 

But she won’t let it get her down! Which is why she stands just outside of Deku’s door now, with food in hand. 

He had rushed off to his room right after returning from his internship, not noticing how everyone in the room had trailed him with their eyes as he went. So, Ochako took it upon herself to deliver leftovers - freshly reheated - up to him. She knows how awful an empty stomach can make you feel, and Deku definitely needs something to cheer him up. 

She knocks on the door and rocks on her feet as she waits for him to open it. 

It takes longer than Ochako expects, but soon enough she hears the soft pitter patter of feet walking to the door. It opens, and there stands Deku. 

He looks worse than he had less than thirty minutes ago. His eyebags are prominent and he takes a moment to realize who she really is, as if his head was off in the clouds. 

“Hi, Deku!” She says cheerfully, in her best quiet voice. He looks a little jumpy. “I brought you some of our leftovers from dinner - it’s not good to go to bed on an empty stomach!”

He blinks. “Oh, th-thanks, Uraraka-san. I’m not, uh, super hungry, but I really appreciate it?” 

You keep saying that , she thinks to herself. 

“Well, you should take some anyway. You’ve been working really hard at your internship, and I think the food will help.” She hopes he understands what “helping” entails. 

“I, uh,” he trails off uncertainly, taking a moment to think. With his head lowered, she can see how mussed up his already unruly hair is. She doubts he’s been taking care of himself. 

So that leaves it up to her to do it for him. 

Deku seems to come to a decision. “Thank you, Uraraka-san. I’ll be sure to eat some in just a little bit, don’t worry.” 

She holds the plate out for him to take, grinning brightly. “Good! Bakugou made it, and it was delicious .”

Deku takes the plate and nods with a small, forced-looking grin. 

Why is he trying so hard to hide away from her? Haven’t they been friends since the beginning? Sure, it’s only actually been less than a year, but they’ve been through so much together. 

Deku knows everything there is to know about heroes, but he won’t accept when someone tries to help him, as if he isn’t worthy of it. 

The thought breaks her heart, just a bit. 

“W-well, I, uh,” Deku starts. 

“Are you… doing okay, Deku?” Ochako knows it’s rude to interrupt, but she really has to ask. 

He pauses. “I’m fine, thank you.” The words are said blankly, void of emotion. It’s a tone so un-Deku-esque that they feel deeply wrong . 

“You really don’t look okay, though.”

He freezes, mouth hanging open, as if he doesn’t know what to say in response. Ochako presses onward. This needs to be said. Deku needs her. 

“I don’t want to push, but I also can’t just ignore how not-okay you’ve been, lately. Is it about your internship? Did something happen?” 

He looks up at her, eyes so sad it practically pierces Ochako straight through. 

“I… yeah, b-but I’m not. Not allowed to, uh, talk about it. It’s confidential.” This, at least, is true. She can tell. 

“I’m sorry,” she says lamely. “Is there anything I can do? How can I help you?”

Deku tries to smile at her, but it falls off his face quickly. “It’s okay. I don’t think you can do anything. Thank you, though.” 

She reaches up a hand to do - what? Give him a hug? Instead, it hangs awkwardly in the air. 

But, wait, it’s got to be more than that. He’s been acting off for much longer than the start of his internship.

“Is there anything else going on? You’ve been acting so different , Deku. It looks like you’re not really sleeping, and you keep making excuses to not be with the class, and it’s making us all worried, and-”

Ochako can feel that she’s pushed too much. He looks like a cornered animal, and has taken a defensive step back. She can see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“I just want to help you.”

Her heart feels heavy, suddenly, with the guilt of being unable to do anything when her best friend is so clearly suffering in front of her. 

He starts closing the door. “Thank you, Uraraka-san, but I’m fine. I just need some space.” 

No, wait-

Before she can get a word in edge-wise, the door closes with a click. 

She stands there for a moment, somehow more worried than she had been before.

(When she learns about Eri, a week later, her heart breaks even more and she suddenly understands - at least part of it. But she won’t let Deku go through this alone. She’ll make sure of it.)

---------------------

Izuku can’t sleep. 

Insomnia is familiar, and he’s had his fair share of sleepless nights. His mind will just turn and turn and turn until he’s forced to leave his bed and do something productive, on the off chance it will tire him out enough to finally get to sleep.

It shouldn’t be surprising that his insomnia has returned with a vengeance, given everything that’s happened. Sue him, there’s a lot to think about. 

Izuku knows he needs sleep. He can feel his eyelids drooping with exhaustion, and it takes a lot of effort to even stand up right now, but he just can’t fall asleep. So, instead, he does what he does best, and researches. 

He opens up the search browser on his phone and his chest tightens with anxiety. 

This simple search doesn’t mean anything, right? This is the same as any other random internet deep-dive, and in no way connected to Izuku’s own life. Definitely. 

He types in two simple words with shaking fingers, and hits enter . 

Wow, apparently there’s a lot of information about eating disorders. So he reads, and keeps reading. 

Some things are very, very familiar, and it’s almost uncomfortable how much Izuku relates to certain symptoms. But he doesn’t have one, right? 

Sure, he might get a little too anxious to eat on occasion. And yeah, maybe it’s a little overwhelming to think about following his diet plan, sometimes, because it’s just so much . 

But he doesn’t have a… problem. 

It’s not a disorder.

And he knows, now. He knows how serious some of these things can be. They are hauntingly familiar, almost mirroring certain quirkless statistics he still has ingrained in his mind. 

People who struggle with these things deserve help, but Izuku isn’t one of them. That would mean that he’s more of a problem than he already is. Besides, surely it’s not that bad, right? 

Right? 

-------------------

Well, maybe it’s a little worse than Izuku anticipated. 

He finds this out a few days later during hero training. 

“Today’s exercise will be duo sparring. You will be randomly assigned pairs and will work together to fight the opposing team.” Aizawa says with his typical lackluster tone. 

The teams are divvied up - Izuku is paired with Kirishima to go against Satou and Tsuyu. 

Things begin exactly as expected. Satou rushes Izuku up close to eliminate his ranged attacks, while Tsuyu deals with Kirishima from a distance. 

Izuku trusts Kirishima to hold his own and focuses all his attention on Satou. Punches are thrown quickly and with enough force to generate some wind around them. Izuku has to channel One for All at almost 12% to keep up with Satou’s sugar rush.

They both fight on equal ground for a while. Satou serves as a good counter to Izuku, as he has the strength and speed to keep up with One for All at decent percentages. 

Kirishima and Tsuyu alternate between who has the upper hand. After a while, Izuku feels himself begin to tire as sweat drips down his forehead. 

Time to change tactics. 

“Kirishima, to me!” They’re well practiced enough that Kirishma knows exactly what to do. 

He pulls himself out of Tsuyu’s rope-like tongue and rushes toward Izuku. Once he gets close enough, Izuku grabs Kirishima’s arms and swings him around with an increased boost of One for All. 

Then, he sends Kirishima flying towards the other pair. Satou dodges, which leaves Tsuyu to receive the brunt of the attack. Izuku winces, almost feeling bad, before throwing himself back at Satou with renewed vigor. 

As always, there is something cathartic about the single-minded work that comes from sparring like this. Izuku grins as he dodges another punch, kicking out his leg to try and sweep Satou off his feet. 

Satou, expectedly, dodges away quickly, and Izuku allows himself a moment to ensure Kirishima is doing okay. 

He is, fortunately, and it looks like Tsuyu is beginning to tire, while Kirishima weathers away her blows and sends even more back in return. 

Satisfied, Izuku turns to look back at Satou-

Who is much closer than Izuku expected him to be. Crap. 

He doesn’t have enough time to dodge when Satou sends a wicked right hook straight for Izuku’s face. 

Izuku practically flies backwards with the enhanced force of the punch, and fails when he tries to get his feet under him. Instead, he bounces and lands pathetically on the hard ground. 

His vision tilts for a second as he tries to get back up, so he closes his eyes and tries to take a few breaths, eager to get back in the ring and assist Kirishima. 

Why is this so hard? He thinks to himself, pushing himself up. It doesn’t matter, he decides, charging up One for All once more. 

He takes a couple steps forward and his vision sways, causing him to stumble and catch himself with his hands on his knees. 

“Asui and Satou are the winners,” Aizawa says. 

Huh? 

Izuku looks over to the others, where Kirishima is pinned to the ground under Satou, Tsuyu’s tongue wrapped around him. Oh. They lost. 

Frustration swirls suddenly in his gut. If he’d only been able to get back faster-

“Midoriya.” 

Aizawa’s voice makes Izuku’s head turn toward him by instinct. 

“Go see Recovery Girl.” 

“W-what? But, I’m okay,” And Izuku really is okay. It’s just his pride hurting, right now. 

His teacher sighs heavily, pinching his nose. Izuku seems to be really good at making him do that. “No, you’re not. For one, your face is swelling, and for another, you almost passed out.”

Well, when Aizawa puts it like that it sounds bad. 

“Kirishima, go make sure Midoriya actually goes to Recovery Girl.” 

His sparring partner gives a sharp salute and grins. “You got it, Sensei!”

Face burning with embarrassment, Izuku ducks his head slightly and follows. From behind him, he can hear Aizawa say “On to the next round…” 

The trip to Recovery Girl’s office is a quick one, but that doesn’t stop it from being awkward. That just tends to happen, when Izuku is involved. 

“S-sorry about all of this, Kirishima.” 

The redhead turns to look at Izuku, eyebrows drawn down in confusion. “What for, dude?” 

“Well, uh, for making us lose the match. And, also, for you having to bring me. I’m making you miss class.” 

Kirishima grins good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it! I’m happy to help my buddy out. Also, don’t sweat us losing. These things happen, I just want you to be okay.”

Izuku makes a face, but doesn’t say anything. 

“No offense, dude, but you weren’t looking too hot back there.”

He is saved from having to come up with a response to that as they arrive. 

It’s kind of sad how familiar Recovery Girl’s office is. “What brings you two here, hm?” 

Izuku rubs the back of his neck in shame, trying to figure out how best to phrase it. 

“Midoriya here got hit pretty hard on the face, and almost passed out, too.” Kirishima at least has the good grace to look ashamed when Izuku sends him a soft glare. 

Recovery Girls tsks softly, then gestures for Izuku to sit on one of the beds. 

“You can run back to class, dearie, I’ve got it from here,” Recovery Girl says, waving her hand flippantly at the door. 

“Okay, ma’am! See you later, Midoriya. I hope you feel better!” 

Izuku waves at him sheepishly as he leaves. 

Recovery Girl is quick as always to heal up the bruise on his face with a sloppy kiss. After instructing him to lay down for a few minutes, she eyes him critically. 

“Almost passed out, huh? You need to take better care of yourself, boy. It looks like you’ve lost some of your muscle mass.” 

Izuku almost asks how she could possibly know that, but decides against it. Recovery Girl is an expert in the field, after all. 

She lets out a quiet hmph before continuing, “You need to be eating and drinking enough, you hear? And don’t push yourself too hard.” She pulls a bag of nutrient gummies and a water bottle out of thin air. “Eat and drink these, and then you can go.” 

He bobs his head in acknowledgement, grabbing the offered items and dutifully popping a gummy in his mouth. 

His stomach feels leaden when the bag is finished. By the time he’s allowed to leave, drained and mouth tasting of regret, class has ended. 

--------------------

A few days later, during another sleepless night, Izuku sits and thinks. 

He’s been worrying people, lately, hasn’t he? All just because he… he- 

No. You’re fine. It’s fine. 

(The late night dinner he’d been brought by his friends and eaten way too quickly sits heavy in his gut. He resolutely ignores the way his stomach still screams at him with hunger.)

What if… what if he told someone? They’ve been catching on, slowly, to how he’s been acting. He’s tried hiding it, but his friends know him too well, at this point. 

It’s nice to have Uraraka, Kirishima, and Tsuyu know about Eri and the upcoming raid. They’ve all been so kind and formed a sort of bond over it, in the tense waiting period. 

But what about everything else? 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust his friends and his teachers - he does . But, what if admitting something is actually wrong breaks him? ( More than he’s already been broken, his traitorous mind whispers). 

Why would they care, though? Sure, they like him well enough as Deku, or as the socially-awkward-yet-likeable-Midoriya. But what about Izuku , and everything that entails? 

They don’t know him, not truly. He hasn’t even told anyone he grew up quirkless, for goodness’ sake. Or about his history with Kacchan, or his father, or anything about who he truly is . 

Besides, letting people in only leads to them being burdened, as well. He can handle this himself. Just like always. 

He doesn’t need help. Everything is fine, Izuku is fine. 

He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine. 

Chapter Text

Izuku laughs along softly with his friends, listening intently to Tsuyu telling funny stories about her sisters. For someone who is often very quiet, she has quite the knack for storytelling, and humor, surprisingly. 

The air feels lighter than usual. 

Maybe it’s because the raid for the Eight Precepts is set for just two weeks from now, or maybe it’s because Izuku is allowing himself a moment to just connect with his friends. 

Whatever the reason, he welcomes the distraction, and mindlessly takes another bite of his lunch. 

They continue on with retellings of childhood for the rest of the period, even getting Iida and Todoroki to contribute some of their own stories. Izuku is content to listen, considering how little stories he has about friends to actually tell, let alone siblings. 

Besides, everyone else has such good stories to tell. 

When the end of their lunch comes, Izuku grabs his tray and notices it’s fully emptied. Huh, he must have been so engaged that he hadn’t noticed him eating it all the way. 

You shouldn’t have done that , his mind whispers. Well, actually, it's more of a shout, startling Izuku with the suddenness of it. 

Sure, he’s had thoughts like that a lot lately, but they were normally softer and easier to push aside and not dwell on. (He still dwelt on them, anyways, but that’s beside the point). 

When did that voice - the one that tells him to eat less, reminds him of how much he’s putting into his body - become so loud? It’s begun to mix with his own thoughts, making it harder and harder to distinguish which ones are his or not. 

What if that bad voice is him? 

Generally he’s tried to ignore it, but as time has gone on, the voice has become more consistent. It’s sometimes hard to tell when it’s even there, as the occurrence is so commonplace. 

Not that Izuku wants to listen to those thoughts, but sometimes, admittedly, he does agree with them. ( Why should someone like him be allowed to eat? To feel good? He needs to work harder, be better , and then maybe he can reward himself. Until then, he doesn’t deserve it.)

But he doesn’t listen to them often enough for it to be a problem. Right? 

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Todoroki bumping his shoulder. They’re already back at their classroom. When did they get there? 

Thankfully, nobody says anything about Izuku’s spaciness. He’s never been so thankful for his tendency to become lost in thought and analysis. At least he wasn’t mumbling, this time. 

The rest of their general classes pass quickly, and soon enough they’re all gathered at the gym for hero training. 

All Might announces it as another obstacle course, this time through a simulated street, complete with cars and dummies acting as pedestrians. The goal is to keep property damage minimal, while also training their efficiency. 

Izuku is in the first group to go, along with Kacchan, Ashido, Sero, and Hagakure. 

This will be a tough group to beat, but Izuku is never one to back down from a challenge. 

He powers up 20% of One for All - his current maximum. 

When he does this, though, he feels a sudden straining sensation, like his quirk is trying to push out of his skin. 

Just like- 

Just like when he first received it . 

Why is this so hard, suddenly? 20% was working yesterday - he even used it during patrol. What-

“Go!” All Might’s voice booms from the sidelines. 

Izuku releases his hold of One for All in surprise, then mentally shakes himself. No time to think. Just lower the percentage and go. 

He instead pushes it to 15%, which hurts less (though it still twinges, a bit), and takes off, trying to catch up to his peers. 

It’s not enough, especially against those with greater agility. He ends up in third, behind Todoroki and Sero. He’d only barely managed to pass Ashido. 

Frustration rises in his gut. Why isn’t One for All working with him anymore? It still works , technically, but 20% has been working for weeks now. 

It feels like all of his progress has suddenly been lost. He fights the tears rising to his eyes. He needs to go rejoin his classmates and watch the other races. 

He stares at the ground the entire time, feeling as weak and useless as he’d once been, years ago. 

---------------

The final bell rings, signalling the end of the school day. Shouta sighs with relief. 

In his typical fashion, he lies in his sleeping bag on the ground, listening to his students chatter as they walk about the door. Just as he thinks they’ve all left- 

“Aizawa-sensei?” 

He groans internally, gathering the motivation to get up. Once he does, he’s surprised to see a whole pack of his problem children waiting in front of him - Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, Tsuyu, and Kirishima. 

Shouta glances them over. “What is it?” 

“We’re worried about Deku - Midoriya,” Uraraka says. The others nod in agreement. 

Truthfully, Shouta can’t say he’s super surprised. He wouldn’t be a very good teacher - or underground hero - if he didn’t notice something going on with Midoriya. 

The boy had been more reserved lately, seemingly lacking his usual energy and drive. He participates in class even less than he had before, and even his habit of mumbling had been dying down. Instead, Shouta now catches Midoriya lost in thought more often than not. 

His eyebags have been growing enough to begin to rival Shouta’s own, and his performance in hero training has been… worrying, to say the least. 

Seeing his student almost pass out, even after that hit, had sent a spike of worry through him. It’s not like Midoriya to be distracted, and his determination had always seemed endless, but now, he just looked tired, making his performance worse than usual. 

Shouta has even been seeing worrying signs in homeroom. He knows how to spot a fake smile. And Midoriya has been wearing one for more than a month now. 

A part of him had wanted to excuse it as his student being tired from his work studies with Sir Nighteye, and the corresponding stress associated with that particular case. (Shouta would be lying if he said it wasn’t causing him more sleep issues than usual, himself). 

Many heroes also suffer from burnout. It comes with the occupation - putting your whole being into helping people, and not always being successful, is a hard thing for anyone to handle.

Though Shouta hates to admit it, heroics also involves a lot of empathy and passion, and even the best of heroes struggle with the strain of it - himself included. 

Somehow, though, Shouta feels that that isn’t all of it. 

He nods at his students. “What has you all worried? I’ll need more specifics.” 

They go on to describe many of the signs Shouta had noticed. He nods along, but his stomach drops when he hears what else they’ve observed. 

“He’s also been eating less, we think. He picks at his food when he joins us for lunch-”

When he joins them? Shouta thinks worriedly. Does he not go every day? He pushes the thought away for later. 

“And he sometimes doesn’t join us for dinner, either. We always bring him food, but he doesn’t always eat it - at least, we don’t think so.” 

Shouta nods at them. “I see. Is there anything else?” 

Kirishima speaks up now. “He’s also been… I don’t know how to really say this. Kind of short tempered? Like, if we ask too many questions, he’ll kinda just say he’s fine and then storm off. It’s not like him, you know?” 

The rest of the group nods. Dots start connecting in Shouta’s mind, puzzle pieces starting to form a much larger picture. And not a pretty one, at that. 

“Thank you all for bringing this to my attention. I’ll see what I can do about this. For now, continue supporting him as you have been, and let me know if anything changes.”

He pauses. “Good work, all of you. Though it may be difficult, what you are doing is heroic in its own right.” 

This seems to lift their spirits, if only slightly. 

They all bow respectfully and leave. 

Shouta sighs yet again, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is, admittedly, a much bigger issue than he’d imagined. But he won’t let things stay this way.

Without concrete evidence he can’t do much, especially with the upcoming raid. He’ll have to keep a closer eye on Midoriya for that, but he knows his student won’t let him pull him out. 

For now, though, he has a few ideas in mind. 

----------------

“Today’s lesson is about mental health in heroics,” Aizawa says. 

This is… pretty unexpected. Most of their lessons lately have been about rescue tactics. Why the change of topic, suddenly? 

Of course, Izuku knows the importance of good mental health, and he’s done his fair share of research into mental health relating to heroics, especially. What better way to spend his late nights than researching everything there is to know about heroics? 

Aizawa begins talking about PTSD - the most common condition seen in heroics. He makes a point to emphasize that some of the things they’ve been through have been traumatic, and mentions the in-school counselor, Hound Dog. 

“If you feel that you are struggling with anything, you are welcomed - and even encouraged - to come to Hound Dog, myself, or any other staff member on campus. We’re all licensed to help with these things.” He looks seriously at the class. 

He then moves on to talk about anxiety and depression - other topics Izuku knows well, also due to his late night research. Though, for some reason, the words cause tightness to come to his chest. He feels himself zoning out in an effort to prevent more panic. 

But why would this cause any anxiety? He knows plenty about these topics, and he’s self-aware enough to recognize some of the symptoms in himself. 

The lesson passes in a blur, and Izuku refocuses sharply when he hears Aizawa say “And now, we’ll talk briefly about eating disorders.” 

Izuku freezes. Something in him twists uncomfortably, and he can feel a lump rising in his throat. 

“I hope you all understand the importance of eating enough, as it fuels your body and even your quirks.” Aizawa gives a knowing look to Yaoyorozu, understandably. Then, he turns and locks eyes with Izuku. 

The look is brief - almost unnoticeable - but it makes Izuku’s panic spike. Does he know? How could he know? Izuku has been careful about eating in front of others so they wouldn’t know. 

His teacher continues talking, and with each point, something in Izuku resonates with the words he says. The symptoms, the behaviors, the thought process. 

And, sure, maybe Izuku fits in a little too well with some of those things. But what’s the harm? 

“Eating disorders are incredibly serious,” Aizawa says sharply, drawing Izuku’s attention. “They are often comorbid - or, in other words, can occur with - anxiety and depression, and can be a result of trauma as well. 

“If these habits go too far, they can lead to extreme health issues and hospitalization. Many people with this disorder can also be suicidal.”

Izuku’s chest feels even tighter. He’s fine, he’s okay, why wouldn’t he be. 

Aizawa meets his gaze yet again, and Izuku twists his head down sharply to avoid it. He knows it only makes him look more suspicious, but he’s currently too preoccupied with trying not to panic to deal with that, at the moment. 

Okay… maybe, just maybe, Izuku has a problem. Maybe he’s known for a while, now. 

And maybe he’s not okay, but, against all logic, some part of him feels like he’s doing the right thing. He knows behaviors like that are bad for him - for anyone - so why is it so hard for him to feel it? 

Maybe it’s the comfort and satisfaction that comes from being hollow and empty. But why is he that way, now? Izuku loves the feeling of strength, of being healthy and having the capability to do great things. So why is he actively working to sabotage that? 

It doesn’t make sense. 

But, well, Izuku has always been known for his optimism and determination, no matter what odds were against him. He can do better. He can fix this, himself, before it becomes more of an issue. 

He’s eaten well all his life, before now, what makes this time any different? This will make him strong again - finally able to work harder and do what he needs to do. Live up to his responsibilities. 

He resolves, then and there, to do better . 

( Why does that thought fill him with dread? )

Izuku looks back up, right as the lesson ends. Something in him is proud of his newfound resolve, but strangely, the tightness in his chest hasn’t lessened at all. 

In fact, it’s only gotten worse. 

----------------------

That same tightness remains for the rest of the morning, nearly constricting him during lunch as he forcefully cleans his plate. The underlying, stupid guilt is pushed aside. 

He eats dinner with his classmates that night, after he returns from his shift at Nighteye’s agency. He makes sure to grab a good amount, and firmly sets his will to eat it all. 

The effort distracts him enough that he retains nothing from what was talked about during the meal, or anything else for the rest of the night. 

But it’s okay, because he’s eating, and that’s what matters. It doesn’t matter that the voice in his head screams at him, or that his stomach is protesting at being so full, or that some part of Izuku hates himself even more. 

It doesn't matter that he lays awake well into the night, considering the necessity of getting that food out of him . He won’t do it, though, because that would prove he needs help. And he doesn’t. He’s doing just fine, as it is. 

He puts on his brightest smile all throughout the next day, especially when he sees Aizawa. (He misses the way Aizawa frowns as Izuku turns away, confused and worried). 

Izuku speaks up, initiates conversation, and shows just how okay he really is. No one should have any reason to worry about him. 

( Even if his mind drifts if he doesn’t keep a tight hold on his attention. If his face falls the moment nobody is looking. If his hands reach for his stomach, trying in vain to lessen the uncomfortable sensation of a full stomach.

Even if he sits in the bathroom, eyes squeezed shut and body tense, trying to reason with himself that eating is okay, when it seems like everything in his being seems to think otherwise.)

Because Izuku is fine. 

--------------

Shouta keeps a close eye on Midoriya over the next few days. What he sees is both concerning and not. 

It seems like Midoriya is making a valiant effort to be bright and sunny. And it’s a convincing act, Shouta will give him that. It had even taken him a moment to see that the bright smile and laughter was forced. 

He thought that the lesson on mental health might spur a change in his students. That, and his class needed to hear it, as they would undoubtedly deal with similar things in the near future. It would hopefully also help them recognize those signs in others. Hero work is much more than just defeating villains, after all. 

The lesson did make an impact, and not just in Midoriya’s sudden change of attitude and behavior. (Shouta had even seen him bright and grinning during dinner with the rest of the class, which Shouta was definitely not spying on out of concern). 

Several of his other students had come up to him, requesting to meet with Hound Dog. That fact alone meant that the lesson was a success, but it didn’t exactly have the results Shouta had been hoping for. 

Midoriya hadn’t made any sign or indication that he wanted help. In all actuality, it ended up doing the opposite. His student seems to have been doing everything in his power to make a front of being okay. 

But Shouta isn’t an underground hero for nothing. No, his training has ensured that he has a critical, examining eye. He’s even almost proud of his ability to notice specific details, to draw conclusions from small pieces of evidence. 

And all the evidence Shouta has seen has pointed to Midoriya being not okay . He can see it in the way his student smiles without his eyes, or has to take a second longer to breathe during training, or the almost imperceptible frown when he looks down at his food before taking a bite. 

(Yes, Shouta has looked through the security cameras in the cafeteria for research purposes. Sue him. He’s just doing what any good hero - what any good teacher - would.)

Unfortunately, Shouta can’t actually do anything unless he has concrete proof of something being wrong. Even when he sent Midoriya over to Shuzenji’s office, they didn’t have anything to necessitate real action, only some concern.

So that leaves Shouta to guide Midoriya to do or say something. 

Even though Midoriya is as stubborn as they come; he isn’t Shouta’s number one problem child for nothing, after all. 

Shouta takes his chance at the end of the day, three days after his lesson on mental health. 

Just as the class is walking back to the locker rooms to change, Shouta calls out, “Midoriya, come here for a moment.” 

Midoriya’s eyes widen, turning to Shouta like a deer in headlights. 

“The rest of you-” Shouta eyes the class, who had stopped to observe- “get on with changing.” He says it with enough sharpness to make them leave the room quickly. A few of Midoriya’s friends glance back and give him a small nod. He nods back. 

Finally, once they’re all out of earshot, Shouta turns to Midoriya. He puts in some effort to relax his shoulders and make his voice calm. 

“How are you doing?” 

Midoriya clearly hadn’t been expecting the question. “I-I, uh, good?” 

Shouta sighs internally. He doesn’t know why he’d been expecting anything else. “Are you sure?” 

His student gives him a confused look. 

Fine. He’ll lay it out for him. “You’ve been acting differently lately - tense, stressed, distracted, low energy-” he cuts himself off before he completely overwhelms the boy. “The point is, if there’s something bothering you, or if you’re having a hard time, I’m here to help you.” 

Midoriya freezes with his mouth open, looking stunned. Is he not used to people offering help? The thought makes Shouta’s gut burn with anger. Not now , he reminds himself. There are more important things to focus on. 

He waits patiently, and he can practically see the gears turning in Midoriya’s head. 

“I, uh, r-really am okay, sensei. I think I’m just a little anxious for the raid - I want to save Eri, a-and I know it won’t be easy, because Overhaul is likely up to something, not to mention the trigger drugs, but y-you, uh, already know about that.” He slams his mouth shut forcefully. 

Shouta sends him an imploring look, hoping his student will reveal even a little more. He knows this odd behavior has been going on for longer than his internship - his students had told him so, and even if they hadn’t, Shouta had noticed it himself. 

Midoriya doesn’t say a word more, shuffling his feet awkwardly in the silence. 

“This is a tough case, yes,” Shouta says. “But we will save her. I promise you that.” 

His student gives him a quick nod, looking like he desperately wants to leave. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else? There is no shame in admitting you need help - it’s my job to help you succeed, Midoriya.”

Shouta had been hoping the extra nudge would help him open up. No such luck. 

“N-no, sensei. Thank you for caring, though.” A bead of sweat trickles down Midoriya’s forehead. It serves as a reminder of just how tired the boy still looks. 

Shouta can feel his eyebrows furrowing for a moment in worry, before he forcefully smooths his expression out. 

“Very well. Let me know if you ever need anything though, Midoriya.” 

His student nods. 

Without any actual proof, there really isn’t much Shouta can do. He hopes - likely in vain - that Midoriya will take his words to heart. And if he doesn’t, Shouta will still be there, just like he would for all of his students. 

(When had he let them grow on him? He wonders. He doesn’t mind it, truly, though he’d never admit it to anyone.)

“Alright, you can go.” 

Midoriya all but leaps away, calling a quick “Thank you, sensei!” as he goes. 

Shouta sighs. These kids will be the death of him, he swears. 

----------------------

The conversation with Aizawa leaves Izuku shaken. 

His teacher might not have known everything, but he had known more than Izuku would have thought. Is he really slipping up that much? He’d been so careful and put up his best front, but Aizawa had apparently seen right through it. 

So why should he continue to push himself to eat better, if nothing good will come out of it? In fact, his eating habits the past few days have only served to make him feel even worse. 

The next few days, Izuku falls back into old habits. ( He knows it’s bad for him. He knows. But something in him just needs to do something to compensate for - everything. Everything is too much, but eating, he can control.)

When the weekend arrives, Izuku wakes up early, as per usual. But for some reason, he can’t find it within himself to get the motivation to get up. 

Everything in him feels weighed down. He just doesn't have enough energy to spare. So he stays in bed, for hours, until finally he has to get up so his classmates don’t notice anything amiss. And if they notice - so what? It’s not like they can really do anything. 

Even out of bed, it’s hard to find the energy or motivation to do anything. The mindset reminds him scarily of some of his bad days during middle school. He knows he should care more, but he just… can’t. 

The rest of the weekend is a quiet one, at least to Izuku. He does his homework, goes to dinner with his classmates, and tries to keep up appearances. He knows he fails. 

He catches his classmates’ worried gazes, but resolutely ignores it. 

When Monday comes, he comes back to himself a bit. Him and Iida go on their morning run, and Izuku puts more effort into participating during morning classes and with his peers. 

As Izuku is walking with his friends toward the cafeteria for lunch, Yagi appears from around a corner. “Young Midoriya! Could I have a word with you over lunch?” He holds up a bento box. 

Izuku nods his head and follows Yagi to their usual conference room where they talk about One for All. He assumes that is what his mentor wishes to discuss, as they haven’t talked one on one for a long time. Maybe since the provisional license exam? Have they talked about his internship with Nighteye? 

He can’t quite remember. He pushes the thought to the back of his mind - it doesn't matter, right now. 

The two of them enter the room, and Izuku plops down in his usual spot. Yagi closes the door and sits right across from Izuku, pushing the bento in his direction. 

He ignores it, instead looking up. “S-so, uh, what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, my boy, I wanted to check up on you!”

Why is everyone doing that lately? 

“Oh. Uh, I’m doing good? One for All has been pretty stagnant lately, but training with Nighteye and Togata-senpai has been grea-”

Yagi sighs. “My boy, I trust that your training is going well - I’ve been seeing it for myself, during hero training. What I do want to talk about is you - not your quirk.” 

And what Izuku wouldn’t have given to hear those words, years ago. 

He remains silent, waiting for Yagi to continue. 

“Truthfully, I just want to know how you’re doing.”

Izuku gives him a calculating look. He loves Yagi dearly, but the man does tend to have a one-track mind. He can’t remember the last time they talked about much beyond training and One for All. 

“I told you I’m doing fine, Yagi-san. Where is this coming from?” 

Yagi’s face grows more serious. “My boy, it doesn’t seem like you’re doing too well. Some of your friends have come to me with concerns-” 

They talked to Yagi? Izuku finds himself suddenly angry, but he pushes it down. 

“- and I, myself, have been growing worried, lately. You haven’t been yourself lately. You don’t seem as focused, and there have been more mistakes in hero training. Is something going on with Nighteye?”

If only it were that simple, Izuku thinks dejectedly. Certainly, being under Nighteye’s critical eye, and on the receiving end of his critical mouth, haven’t helped things. But he’s still been learning valuable skills, and it’s not as if Nighteye has been wrong about anything. 

“N-no, Sir has been fine. I’m learning a lot from him and Togata-senpai.”

“I’m sure you are, my boy.” Yagi gives Izuku a critical gaze, and speaks up after a moment of silence. “Is this about my retirement? I know you’re under a lot of pressure, my boy, but I am here to help guide and support you.” 

Izuku wants to groan. Why does Yagi care? Why do any of them care? Where is all of this coming from, all of a sudden? It’s not like Izuku’s never dealt with anything hard before - and he’s always done it just fine on his own. 

He decides to relent, giving Yagi what he wants. “Well, I guess it is a little stressful, knowing I’ll have to live up to your legacy.” 

“My boy, you don’t have to be an exact replica of me; you know that, right? I don’t want you to be the next All Might. You have your own path to take, and I know you’ll be even greater than me, one day.”

The words are meant to be reassuring. But instead they put a heavier weight on Izuku’s shoulders. Doesn’t he know that Izuku could never even be close to the hero Yagi was? Does he know how impossible that goal seems? 

Yagi seems to sense his dejectedness, and hurriedly rushes to add, “But I don’t expect that anytime soon. You are still a student, and have lots to learn, after all! And I’ll be here every step of the way.” 

Izuku tries to give him a grateful smile, but he can feel it falling flat. “Thank you, Yagi-san.” 

There is an awkward silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say next. 

Finally, Yagi speaks up. “Is there anything I can help you with, my boy?” 

Izuku can tell Yagi thinks there is more going on. Just how much have Izuku’s friends told him? 

Suddenly tired of the conversation, Izuku is quick to shut his efforts down. “No. I’m good, thank you though.” 

Yagi frowns. 

Before the man has a chance to pry even further, Izuku stands up. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I think I’ll head back for the rest of lunch.” 

He leaves the room without giving his mentor an opportunity to respond. 

His heart feels heavy as he walks away. He knows there will be repercussions for this, but for now, he just can’t handle it any more. 

He spends the rest of the period in the empty classroom, curled up as small as he can in an effort to push everything else away. Frustrated and despairing tears fall down his cheeks, despite his best efforts. Why is he doing this? Why do they all care? 

Izuku sits and falls apart, just for a moment. When the bell rings, he wipes his face and puts himself back together. He heads back to class, feeling strangely empty.

The reassuring smile he offers to his friends feels hollow. 

Things can’t continue on like this, he knows. But what other choice does he have? 

( Meanwhile, Toshinori stares open-mouthed at the door. His heart breaks. 

Clearly something is wrong. And Young Midoriya is too stubborn to admit he needs help. But what can Toshinori do, as he is right now? 

It hurts to see his boy in such pain. Something needs to be done. 

But what?)

Chapter Text

The days pass, both slow and fast at the same time. Before Izuku knows it, he and his classmates are being called in for the raid. 

It fills him with anxious, anticipatory energy. Aizawa eyes him as he bounces lightly on his feet. They both stand side by side, surrounded by other heroes assisting with the case. 

“Are you ready, problem child?” 

Izuku nods. Aizawa gives him a look . “You’ve been more off than usual the past couple of days. Are you sure you can handle this? There’s no shame in backing out if you aren’t at your best.” 

No, no way. Izuku has worked way too hard for this. Sure, he’s a little low on sleep and energy generally, and maybe he has been sloppier than usual during training, but now that he has something to focus on he is ready . He will do anything it takes to get Eri to safety. 

He sends Aizawa his most determined face. “I can do this, sensei. I promise I’m fine. I want to help.” 

His teacher doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push any further. 

“ Heroes at the ready,” Izuku hears through his comm. 

He takes in a deep breath, firing up One for All at 5%. He’s ready. He will save her, even if it’s the last thing he does. 

--------------------------

The raid was a success. Well, if you could call it that - Izuku does at least. Eri has been saved, and Overhaul is now locked away where he can’t hurt anyone ever again. 

Losing Nighteye, however, hadn’t been in the plan. Part of Izuku feels overwhelmingly guilty that he didn’t do more to save him. What if he had been faster, or not gotten as sidetracked, or been there in time to stop Lemillion from getting hit with the quirk-erasing bullets? 

Though he hadn’t really liked the man, given his clear disdain for Izuku, he had truly been a good man in the end. One with faults, sure, but he was still a hero , one worthy of living a full and complete life. And Izuku hadn’t been good enough to prevent that life from ending. 

And, if Eri hadn’t been there to use her quirk, Izuku would have stood no chance against Overhaul. Even using her quirk had been traumatic for the little girl, believing it was a curse and something that was bad - something to be feared and repressed. It had broken Izuku’s heart. 

Even spending the afternoon in the hospital, visiting everyone (so , so many people) hadn’t helped with his swirling emotions. 

The raid had been an exhausting mess, leaving Izuku feeling wrung out but still full of anxious energy. Though he knows he should be resting and recovering like everyone has been saying (even though Eri’s quirk meant that he got out unscathed - something that makes him feel even more guilty. How could others have suffered so much and even died and here Izuku is completely fine?) He needs a way to get his leftover energy out. 

So Izuku sneaks out his balcony window later that night and heads to an empty gym. 

It’s routine at this point for him to grab a punching bag, hang it up, and do his stretches before running through every exercise he knows. 

The practice is cathartic, yes, but it is also mindless. 

He throws a punch. 

You could have done better.

His kick sends the punching bag up, almost touching the ceiling. 

Nighteye is dead because of you. You weren’t good enough to save him, or Lemillion, or anyone. 

One for All is increased to 18%, straining Izuku’s muscles. He can feel it creaking his bones. 

It’s only because Eri was there - and the other heroes - that she was able to get out. 

He punches again. The chain snaps and the bag thunks against the wall, 20 feet away. 

If you could only barely defeat Chisaki with your full power and Eri’s, how can you ever expect to defeat Shigaraki? The League? All for One? 

He freezes at the thought. All for One is in prison, sure, but Izuku has a gut feeling that it won’t stay that way. 

How will you keep your classmates safe? You haven’t even been progressing with One for All, lately. 

He winces, letting out another harsh punch. The resulting wind whips his hair into his face. 

In fact, all you’ve been doing is bringing them down. They’re all worried about you - and for what? You aren’t worthy of their time, their attention, their energy. 

It’s your job to protect them. And you are failing. 

It’s not enough. He pushes One for All to a straining 20%. Its power is an ocean, fighting to break out of Izuku’s small form. He forces it to stay in, to obey. He can feel his teeth grinding together in his effort.

He pushes off the ground to rush at the punching bag again, only to go flying into the wall. With One for All powered up, he has higher resistance than the average person. That doesn’t stop it from hurting. 

His back and head throb sharply, but the majority of his pain is in his legs. He hopes desperately that he hasn’t broken them; Recovery Girl would be furious. 

Izuku allows himself a moment to lay on the ground and breathe. When did he start to breathe so heavily? It suddenly feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs. 

He counts out his breathing, ignoring the racing of his heart and the trembling that fills his entire body. 

Once he feels sufficiently calmed (not completely calm, but more than he had been before) he takes a moment to inspect the damage. 

Remarkably, he’s not injured, other than some bruising and soreness. Luckily, everything that he hit is easy to hide, so nobody has to know he was here. His legs are shaky and feel tender, though Izuku knows they’re not broken. 

Sighing in relief, he allows himself a moment to sit and think. What just happened? Why did One for All act out like that? It felt like a sudden surge of energy, beyond what Izuku could control. Was it reacting to his emotions? He hadn’t had any major quirk accidents in months , why was it doing this? 

After a little while of his mental rambling, he finally stands up on shaky legs. His vision tilts dizzily for a moment, and he winces as he takes a step. Yeah, he’s definitely done for tonight. 

You can’t even do that right, can you? He mentally berates himself. 

Teeth gritted in frustration, he begins to clean up his mess, trying to ignore his aching body. 

He also resolutely ignores the tears falling from his eyes. 

How useless can you be? 

------------------

Tsuyu has always prided herself on her observation skills. 

She’s always been able to tell when her siblings are having a bad day, or when one of her classmates is holding something back. When someone uses their quirk in a new and unique way, she is quick to pick up on it and talk about it. Why wait to speak her mind when she can just get things out of the way first? 

She has been learning, however, that that tactic doesn’t always work. 

Case in point: Midoriya, one of her closest friends, only shuts down when she tries to talk to him about anything, lately. Well, shuts down might not be the right word, not all of the time, but he certainly will deflect and do his best to do anything but what she really wants. 

Because she is worried for him, and she has been for a long time now. 

He hasn’t been acting like himself lately, instead seeming so down and distracted. Tsuyu has talked to her friends about it several times, and they all share her concerns. 

She had thought things would get better after the raid to rescue Eri. When she first heard about the predicament, and saw Midoriya’s strained reaction to it, she had assumed that that situation had been the source of his distress. 

But he hasn’t really gotten any better since then. Sure, he smiles a little more often, and some of the weight he had seemed to carry on his shoulders seems maybe a little lighter, but he still doesn’t have the light back in his eyes, and every smile strikes Tsuyu as being incredibly fake. 

She has always worked so hard to help those around her. That’s what drove her to want to be a hero - to help others be happy and feel safe. She would do anything in her power to help those who need it, but right now, she has no idea how to help Midoriya. That hurts her more than anything. 

( She won’t stand by and do nothing when she is able to help - not again. The regret from not helping rescue Bakugou is something she still feels daily.)

As the class decides on their performance for the school festival, she makes sure to keep an eye on her friend, to see if she can pick up any clues as to how she can help him. 

They rehearse often enough, and the only thing Tsuyu can pick up is that he seems even more tired and withdrawn than usual. When they break out into chatter during their water breaks, he rarely joins in, seemingly lost in his head. 

That in and of itself isn’t unusual, for Midoriya, but in contrast with how he used to be, he now looks so sad. 

Some of the light returns to his eyes when Tsuyu joins him to visit Eri, and it lifts her heart, just a little. 

She also tries to observe him during hero training exercises, when she can spare it. His behavior is largely the same there. He is still as determined and driven as ever to improve and become better, but, to be quite honest, he has been making more mistakes than usual. 

Instead of his relentless optimism to improve despite his shortcomings, he now seems to let it drag him down further. 

She brings up her thoughts one night when studying with her friends, and they all nod their agreement. But nobody really knows what to do. They’ve all been trying their best to be there for him, but he just isn’t opening up - not that they can tell, at least. 

Ultimately, they decide to just keep being supportive, and to talk to Aizawa again if anything more pressing happens. It’s not enough to fully settle Tsuyu’s worries, but it helps to know her friends are with her on this. 

A few days later, in a rare moment, Tsuyu spots Midoriya on the couch, with only a couple of their classmates scattered through the area. It’s a quiet moment, one that Tsuyu is slightly afraid to disturb, but that’s never stopped her before. Not when she has a friend in need. 

She approaches him, and it takes him a moment to notice her presence, seemingly lost in thought again. He startles slightly, then offers her a small grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Can I sit?” She asks, gesturing to the empty spot beside him. 

He nods, and she sits. 

“Did you need something, Tsuyu-chan?” His gaze doesn’t meet hers, but his voice is kind all the same. He’s always been good at putting her at ease, even when he doesn’t mean to. He just simply has that kind of presence; it’s one of the many things she admires about him. 

Tsuyu taps her chin. “Actually, yes, kero. Can I be blunt with you?” 

His head bobs in agreement, as it always does. She can tell there is some nervous tension in the action, though. 

“You don’t look like you’ve been doing okay, Midoriya-chan. It’s like you’re not very happy, even when you pretend to be. I was just wondering if there was a reason for that?”

Midoriya clasps his hands together, but not before Tsuyu can notice them shaking. 

“O-oh. I’m sorry I’ve, uh, been seeming like that. I promise you I’m fine, though, really!” 

He tries to sound enthusiastic. Tsuyu doesn’t buy it. 

“No, I don’t think you are. Why won’t you let any of us help you?” 

Midoriya freezes. Something in his eyes looks panicked, though she has no idea why. Can’t he see that they’re all just worried about him, that they can help? He’s never been very open with them, for reasons Tsuyu can’t fully figure out, but now it seems like he doesn’t trust them at all, anymore. 

It hurts her that he seems to think that way about them - about her. 

“Please, Midoriya-chan. You’re my friend, and I just want to help you, the same way you’ve helped me in the past.” 

He doesn’t seem to know what she’s referring to, and she knows it isn’t obvious, but he truly has saved her. During the USJ, when he came up with their escape plan; his reassuring smiles and words when she was feeling down; the way he calmed her down after her guilty confession about Bakugou’s rescue. 

He truly is a hero, to her. It hurts that he doesn't see that. 

“I’m fine, I promi-”

“Why are you lying?” She almost shouts. “I know you’re not okay. Why do you keep pretending that you are and pushing everyone away?” 

Midoriya’s eyes widen, showing clear hurt and panic. He stands, clenching his palms in a way that looks painful. 

“I-I’m sorry, T-tsuyu-chan. I just…” he trails off. “I’m sorry.” 

He turns away before Tsuyu can figure out what just happened. She tries to speak up, but before she can get another word in, he’s already gone. 

Tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t bother wiping them away. How is she supposed to help him, when he won’t let anyone in? 

------------------

Izuku grins in satisfaction, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead. Their performance for the school festival had been even better than he’d expected, and all of their efforts were well worth it to see Eri actually smile. 

A part of him is embarrassed at his abysmal dancing skills, but he was at least able to swing Aoyama around properly, and it seems like Eri didn’t mind it at all. 

She had been so starstruck, even though he could tell she was nervous being around so many people. As their performance continued, her eyes got even brighter and for the first time, she actually looked like a perfectly normal little girl. Being able to help that happen brings a spring into Izuku’s step as he walks down to meet up with Aizawa, Togata, and Eri. 

He crouches down in front of her. “How did you like it, Eri-chan?” 

“It was amazing!” The smile hasn’t left her face, somehow only widening as she continues. “The music was so cool and everyone was dancing around and smiling so much, and then when the boy went flying in the air with the lights it was- it was… beautiful!” 

Izuku’s heart feels lighter than it has in a long, long time. “I’m so glad to hear that! We worked really hard to make everyone feel happy and smile.”

She grins at him in response, then runs into his arms for a hug. He picks her up in a familiar motion and starts walking with Aizawa and Togata, ignoring the bone-deep exhaustion tugging at him.  

Aizawa gives him an approving nod, and softly murmurs “Good job, kid.” 

Izuku beams. 

“How about we go get some candied apples, huh?” Togata says, pumping a fist in the air. “They’re going to blow your mind!” 

Eri cheers in response.

Togata points out fun activities and events happening all the way there. Eri watches with wide eyes, her smile never quite falling from her face. 

“And that, over there, is the talent show! It’s where people go to show off their quirks and hobbies! And-” he cuts himself off. “Oh! Here we are.” 

They each grab a candy apple. Eri takes a bite first, and smiles widely at the taste. “Oh, wow, that’s yummy!” 

Izuku smiles softly, before taking a bite of his own apple. 

Eri is right - it does taste good. It’s sweet and crunchy and-

You shouldn’t be eating that. 

He slows his chewing and swallows his bite painfully. The sweet taste in his mouth is suddenly sour. 

But, in front of Aizawa and Togata and Eri, he knows he can’t just stop eating. 

They continue on through the festival, stopping at nearly every booth. Izuku takes very small, slow bites, so it looks like he’s eating more than he is. Even still, he feels heavier with each bite he takes. He shoves his discomfort aside and tries to focus on the festivities around them  - he has a job here, to help Eri feel happy. 

Once a sufficient amount of time has passed, he sneakily throws the rest of the apple (only about half - he’d eaten half of it ) into a trash can he passes. 

Aizawa catches his eye as Izuku looks around. He quickly breaks eye contact and focuses on Eri, hoping that his teacher hadn’t noticed. 

( He had, but Shouta knows he can’t say or do anything right now. He shelves the information for later. )

The rest of the night passes uneventfully. By the end of the night, Izuku has almost ( almost ) forgotten his discomfort and exhaustion, and instead allows himself to enjoy the light air and tangible joy around him. 

Eri holds his hand the whole way, still smiling brightly. Izuku smiles with her.

------------------

Toshinori watches intently as the fifth and final group enters the simulated battleground - Ground Gamma. Team A consists of Midoriya, Ashido, Mineta, and Uraraka. Team B has Monoma, Kodai, Shoda, Yanagi, and - joining them to trial being in the heroics course - Shinsou. 

The match begins without anything too unusual. Young Midoriya takes off in front of his teammates, seemingly as bait. Young Monoma heads over to target him, seemingly using several of his classmates’ quirks. 

While those two battle against each other, the rest of the hero students battle against each other, going back and forth. 

As Toshinori watches, something on one of the other screens catches his attention. There are dark green, almost black, tendrils, shooting all over the area where Monoma and - Young Midoriya are.

When the screen clears a bit more, Toshinori chokes on the sudden rushing of blood in his mouth. 

Those green tendrils are coming from Young Midoriya - from his boy. They seem to be out of his control, lashing out in all directions and pulling his boy along with them. Upon closer inspection, Midoriya’s face is screwed up in pain, as he seemingly yells at the mysterious energy coming from his arm. 

Aizawa shocks Toshinori out of his frozen stupor by dashing forward. The man grabs his communication device and shouts into it “Everyone, stop what you are doing. This round is over, at least for now. Take defensive positions and stay put .” 

Toshinori rushes after him, thankful for his long stride allowing him to keep up with the younger man. 

“What are we doing, Aizawa?” 

The underground hero shoots him a sharp glare. “ I am going to shut down Midoriya’s quirk. Something is clearly wrong. You should be staying put.” 

Toshinori sends Aizawa his most stubborn glare. After a moment, Aizawa relents. 

“Fine. Stay close to me, then.” 

He does so, running as fast as he can to reach the center of Ground Gamma. When they arrive, Toshinori’s heart jumps to his throat. 

Young Midoriya is still surrounded by the tendrils, but now Young Uraraka and Young Shinsou are nearby, trying in vain to reach him. 

Before anything more can happen, Aizawa activates his quirk, hair floating up around him. The mysterious substance around Young Midoriya disappears in a flash and Toshinori allows himself a moment to breathe out a relieved sigh. 

That is, he was, before he sees Young Midoriya start falling to the ground, limp as a rag doll. 

Young Uraraka shoots out and slaps her friend on the shoulder, effectively slowing his momentum. 

Is Toshinori allowed to breathe now? He’s not sure he can handle more surprises, not after this. 

Midoriya floats gently to the ground, guided by Uraraka. As they touch down, Toshinori and Aizawa race over to observe the damage. 

Thankfully, none of the students appear to be injured, save for a few scrapes and bruises. Young Midoriya’s arm looks rubbed raw and the sleeve of his hero costume has been reduced to tatters. 

Then, out of thin air, the tendrils reappear. 

“Dang it,” Aizawa whispers next to him. 

“What is it?” Toshinori asks. The other man has his quirk active again, eyes bloodshot as they glow red. 

“His quirk-” so it is a quirk, though how could that have happened? Toshinori wonders distantly - “is still active, even though he’s unconscious.”

That is rather unusual. Typically, quirks are only active when their users are awake. For the quirk to still be active, even with Young Midoriya unconscious, can mean many things. 

The quirk might be sentient, just like Young Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow. It could also mean that the quirk is something more like a mutation, unable to be deactivated on most occasions. The only other theory Toshinori can imagine is that the quirk is reacting to Young Midoriya’s emotional or mental state in some way - quirks have been known to act up more, when the user is in significant distress. 

Toshinori really, really hopes it isn’t the last one. 

Those thoughts, however, are something to ponder at another time, when his student isn’t unconscious right in front of him. 

“I’ll call over the medical bots and let Shuzenji know Young Midoriya is coming,” Toshinori says. 

Aizawa nods his head sharply, eyes twinging. “Have her prepare quirk suppressants as well.” 

Toshinori does so, then glances over the other students present. Young Uraraka, Shinsou, and Monoma are all staring at Young Midoriya, a mix of emotions across their faces. He doesn’t blame them. This situation is entirely unprecedented. 

Still, Toshinori does the only thing he still can as a hero. He smiles and reassures them, “He’ll be alright. We’ll get him taken care of right away, and figure out what is going on.”

They look up at him and nod with some hesitation. 

“Are you all alright?” He can’t imagine they really are, right now, but Toshinori knows it can sometimes help to be asked, anyways. 

Young Uraraka opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by the medical bots arriving with a stretcher. 

They load Young Midoriya up quickly. Aizawa moves to join them, wincing with the need to blink. 

“Aizawa, do you want me to come with you?” Usually Toshinori would be bullheaded and insist on escorting Young Midoriya, but he knows that Aizawa needs to be there more than he does right now. The thought hurts, reminding him of his own uselessness, but he pushes it off to the side to be dealt with later. For now, there are more important things to do. 

“No, stay here,” Aizawa responds, as expected. “Get the other students to the group and take them back to the changing rooms, then have them go back to the dorms. I’ll speak with them more later.” 

Toshinori moves to do so, only pausing for a moment to take a look at the stretcher getting further and further away. 

What is going on, my boy?

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes up slowly. His eyes feel weighed down, and he can’t seem to summon the willpower to do- well, pretty much anything. His mind also feels strangely muddled, and he almost enjoys the feeling of not having to think quite so hard. 

Where is he, again? He listens for a moment, until he hears the gentle, sadly familiar beeping of a heart monitor. In the background, he can hear snippets of words, “Chiyo, what is… highly unusual… suppressants will wear off…” 

Then, with rushing clarity, everything comes back to him. 

He’d been in the middle of a training exercise - an important one , because it was Shinsou’s trial for the hero course. Izuku had been so excited to face off against his - friend? acquaintance? opponent?- once more. 

Everything had been going fine ( other than the always constant exhaustion that seeps into his bones nowadays, the muddiness to his thoughts, the lethargy in his limbs) and he had been in the middle of trying to knock Monoma away with a Delaware Smash, when- 

He can - quite literally - hear his heart rate increase. Some strange something had come over him, surging with his anger. It had been so powerful, and so painful too. It felt like a rushing heat, something uncontrollable and intense. It reminds him of how One for All was, at the beginning, except this time he didn’t willingly choose to activate whatever this was. 

He had struggled in vain to control it, yelling at it in his frustration. Of course, now something else had to go wrong. Something more in Izuku had to break and change. And he had known that he was disrupting the exercise, but it just wouldn’t turn off. 

Izuku remembers being almost blinded by the pain and the overwhelming power of the whips that came shooting out of his arm, and then, just as he was trying to tell Shinsou and Uraraka to get away, the power suddenly left and- 

That’s it. So how did he get here, in the infirmary? 

He finally works up the willpower to open his eyes, only to find everything blurry from the tears building in his eyes. As he reaches up his hand ( his left, the one that hadn’t been controlled by that weird quirk) to wipe his eyes, and notices something hard and metallic on his wrist. 

They remind him of quirk suppressing cuffs. But surely they can’t be that, right? 

Recovery Girl must have heard him or seen the movement, because she’s by his side within a few seconds, trailed by Aizawa and Yagi. 

“How are you feeling, dearie?” 

Izuku takes a moment to think. How is he feeling? “I’m… okay. Really tired, and kind of, fuzzy?” 

She nods knowingly. “That makes sense. You have a pretty severe case of quirk exhaustion, thanks to that weird new facet of your quirk, and the fuzziness is probably coming from the quirk suppressant bracelets.” 

So that’s what those are, Izuku thinks. Huh. Why would he need those? 

Recovery Girl continues on. “Other than that, you have no major injuries other than scrapes and bruises from the training exercise. You have Uraraka to thank for that.” 

She must have saved him from falling, as he distantly remembers being high above the ground when everything had gone dark. Izuku should thank her, once he sees her again. 

“You also seem dehydrated and thinner than usual, which might account for some additional exhaustion.” Aizawa gives Recovery Girl a suspicious look at that, which makes Izuku shift uncomfortably. She continues, “I didn’t even have to use my quirk on you, but you were clearly exhausted enough to be out for a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Izuku practically shouts. “Wait a second - how is everyone else? Are they okay? Did I hurt any of them? Did-”

“They’re fine, kid,” Aizawa says placatingly. “Nobody sustained any major injuries, and the cut on Uraraka’s arm is completely healed, thanks to Recovery Girl.” 

That’s right, Izuku had hurt Uraraka - had cut her when she tried to reach him using his quirk. He’d hurt her, even though he hadn’t meant to. How could he do that to her? She was trying to help him and he hurt her because he didn’t have any self control and-

“My boy, breathe ,” Yagi says, putting a grounding hand on Izuku’s arm. 

He takes a shuddering breath, trying to focus on the current situation instead of fixating on the past. He can catastrophize over that situation later, after he apologizes to Uraraka. 

Once he feels a little more settled, he looks back up at his teachers. “What happened? I know something happened and I lost control over some weird… something.” 

Aizawa sighs. “We don’t know much more than you do, kid. Best we can figure, it’s a latent manifestation of your quirk, likely activated by a certain emotion or situation. We’re not quite sure why it’s so different from Superpower, though.” He looks away, seemingly thinking hard about it. Izuku can’t blame him - the situation really doesn’t make any sense. 

Yagi gives Izuku a look , mouthing quietly “I’ll tell you more later.” 

Izuku suddenly understands. It must have something to do with One for All. Now that he thinks about it, it’s probably related to that weird dream he’d had last night, which had resulted in him breaking the windows in his dorm room in a sudden surge of unrestrained power.

He’d almost forgotten about it, as he’d been too focused on the joint training session with 1-B to dwell on it much. He’ll have to tell Yagi about it later. 

“So, uh, why do I have quirk suppressant cuffs on?” 

“ Bracelets ,” Recovery Girl corrects quickly. Izuku supposes it’s an important distinction to make. “And they are to keep the new aspect of your quirk under control. Even after you passed out, your quirk wouldn’t deactivate unless Aizawa used Erasure. He had to stay right by you the whole way here to make sure it didn’t cause any damage to anything.” 

“S-sorry, Sensei,” Izuku says, bowing his head. Why can’t he just be normal and not cause any problems, for once? 

“Don’t worry about it kid,” Aizawa says, and in a rare display of - affection? - he rubs his hand over Izuku’s head. It feels strangely nice. 

Recovery Girl shuffles forward, reaching for Izuku’s arms. He almost flinches back, but stops himself before anything more than a twitch happens. 

“Now that you’re awake, I think it’s a good time to see if that quirk of yours will settle.”

“Are you s-sure it’s safe?” Izuku asks. He really, really doesn’t want to hurt anyone else, or have a repeat of earlier. 

Aizawa says, “It’s safe as long as I’m here. Don’t worry, problem child, I’ll turn off your quirk if anything happens.” 

The reassuring look he sends Izuku helps settle his nerves. “O-okay. Let’s do it.” 

Recovery Girl unlocks the bracelets ( cuffs, Izuku’s mind unhelpfully supplies ), and takes them off his wrists. 

The result is instantaneous. The dark green, almost black tendrils look as if they’re emerging from Izuku’s arm, though they are far slower this time. There’s just two this time, instead of dozens, and it stops to hang almost gently over his arm, just a few feet in length. 

The strange thing is Izuku hadn’t been trying to activate One for All. He hadn’t done anything , and yet the strange quirk is still here. 

How can it be active without any conscious thought? Is it sentient, or does it rely on circumstances or something similar to activate, even without Izuku telling it to do so? 

As his panic grows, along with some frustration ( why can’t I control this?) the whips flare up slightly, extending and jittering in the air. 

Fortunately, they don’t do anything more than that, so Aizawa has no need to use his quirk on Izuku. Not yet, at least. 

“What - why - I didn't even try to do anything, why is it active?” He clenches his fist in frustration, causing the quirk to lash out a little more. 

“Some quirks activate subconsciously, dearie,” Recovery Girl says. “Often it is a result of intense emotions, or some deep need to protect the user. I think we can rule out it being a sentient quirk, though it does appear to be very reactive to your emotions.” 

Izuku nods wearily. That would make sense, but is he really that emotionally unbalanced, to make the quirk act up like this? 

Recovery Girl looks to Izuku’s homeroom teacher. “Aizawa, I would recommend erring on the side of caution with his training, for now. The new aspect of his quirk is too unstable, and I’m not sure I trust it being used in any rigorous setting, until Midoriya can figure it out and learn to control it.”

Izuku’s heart sinks as Aizawa nods. “I’ll come up with a training plan, and pull him out of training with the rest of his class.” Izuku’s dread increases tenfold. 

Without training, he won’t be able to improve and become stronger. His classmates will all move forward without him, leaving Izuku to watch them from behind, just like he used to when he was younger. His frustration towards himself grows. How could he be so useless? Just when he thinks he’s getting a hold on his quirk, something has to happen, bringing him right down to where he started. 

(And sure, Izuku knows he hasn’t lost all of his progress. But it sure feels like it, right now.)

The whips fly out, jolting even quicker than before. Izuku flinches back, trying to pull his arm away. 

“What happened, my boy?” Yagi looks at Izuku in concern. 

“S-sorry. I don’t - don’t know what happened. I guess I got, uh, frustrated, at myself?” 

Aizawa’s eyebrows scrunch up as he frowns. 

“That might be part of its activation and reactiveness,” Recovery Girl says. “This facet might be powered by your anger and frustration. You’ll have to keep that in check, if you want to go without wearing quirk suppressants all day.”

She takes a moment to think, before saying, “Though… it might be better if you do wear them, when you’re not around Aizawa here, just in case.” Recovery Girl must see the look in Izuku’s eyes, because she adds, “It’s only temporary, boy. Once you get a hold of it those bracelets won’t have to be used anymore.”

Izuku nods dejectedly. It’s so… weak of him, to need to rely on quirk suppressants to keep this new power in check, but if that’s what it takes to keep other people safe, Izuku will do it without complaint. 

“Before we get to that, though,” Aizawa says, “can you try to deactivate the quirk, Midoriya?” 

Putting all of his focus on his arm, Izuku tries to pull the energy away. He can feel it in a similar way that he feels One for All, but this one is steadier, less overpowering. When that doesn’t work, he tries to dampen his frustration and anger, but the quirk stays floating in the air. 

Izuku stubbornly keeps trying for a minute or two, before giving up, feeling suddenly more exhausted than he had been before. The quirk remains, unchanged from before. 

Why doesn't it go away? Izuku thinks to himself. Is it truly reacting to his emotional state? But, he’d lessened the frustration and nothing had happened, so maybe it draws from other emotions as well? 

“That’s alright, my boy,” Yagi says, patting Izuku’s shoulder gently. Everything Yagi does is gentle, despite his large stature. “We can figure it out more later. For now, you look exhausted.” 

And Izuku is, though he makes a stubborn effort to sit up straighter, making Yagi chuckle fondly. 

“Chiyo, do you need him for anything else?” Aizawa asks. 

She shakes her head. “No, we just need to put the bracelets back on, and then he needs to go and rest .” She sends Izuku a sharp glare, causing Izuku to nod vigorously. 

Recovery Girl puts the bracelets back on Izuku, and the tendrils dissipate into thin air, as if they’d never existed in the first place. Strange, Izuku will have to make more observations later, when he isn’t feeling exhaustion pulling him from his thoughts. 

“There, those should do the trick for now. Come see me tomorrow before classes, and we’ll check and see how you’re doing.” 

Izuku nods, slowly getting off the bed to his feet. They feel slightly unsteady, and his vision goes dark at the corners for a moment, but he puts his feet under him and ignores the lightheaded feeling. 

“Come on, then, problem child,” Aizawa calls out, gesturing behind him as he begins to walk out the door. 

As Izuku joins him, he glances back at Yagi. They both share a knowing look, and Izuku is sure they’ll be discussing more about this mysterious quirk the next day during lunch. 

But for now, exhaustion tugs at his bones, and he has an apology to make. 

His footsteps feel heavier than usual as he follows Aizawa to the dorms. 

-------------------

Shouta stands beside Midoriya, both of them observing the class training exercise. 

This is the third day since the training-exercise-gone-wrong, and his student clearly doesn’t feel any better about the situation. 

On the first day after the incident, Shouta had pulled Midoriya off to the side and told him he didn’t need to change into his hero costume, because he would instead be doing observations on the class and reporting to Shouta. 

Of course, Shouta knows about Midoriya’s knack for analysis - he’d seen the problem child’s notebooks on several occasions, and been around to hear more than enough of his mumbling sessions to be able to tell that the boy had some talent in the subject. 

When Midoriya had stuck with Shouta instead of changing, the rest of his classmates had shown concern, which Shouta had efficiently resolved with a curt “he’s doing a different sort of training, for now.” 

They hadn’t seemed entirely convinced, but after a particularly sharp glare, they had gone on without further complaint. 

It had all resulted in Midoriya shrinking even more into himself. He had brightened up a bit after being told to give his analysis to Shouta, but his shoulders still remained slumped in what Shouta could only guess was disappointment. 

The decision to have Midoriya give analysis had quickly proven to be the right one. The boy had good insights on his classmates fighting styles, weaknesses, and potential pairings. Because of them, Shouta has been able to give them better opportunities to learn and grow, which he had been sure to tell Midoriya. 

It had helped brighten the boy’s mood, if only a little. 

They are currently observing Kirishima paired with Ashido, as both of them try to work with each other. Midoriya had pointed out that they could be a particularly good pairing, as Kirishima had the unique ability to withstand and even utilize Ashido’s acid. 

After pulling off a nice display - with Kirishima using his quirk to splash acid over a training dummy, rendering them “incapacitated” - Shouta nods to them in approval. 

“Well done, you two. If you keep working together like that, you should be able to come up with some new moves that can be used whenever you’re paired up together, in the future.” Shouta turns to the side. “Do you have anything to add, Midoriya?” 

The boy looks slightly shocked, even though this isn’t the first time Shouta has explicitly asked for his input. He hopes it will increase Midoriya’s confidence in himself. 

“Oh, uh… Kirishima, make sure your Hardening is especially concentrated whenever you touch Ashido’s acid, so you don’t give yourself any burns.” 

The redhead gives Midoriya a grin and a sharp thumbs up. “You got it, dude!” 

With that done, Shouta turns to where the rest of the class is working on other paired moves. “Okay, everyone. That’s it for today. Go and change, then head back to the dorms.” 

The class yells out a unified “Yes, Sensei!” and they quickly leave. 

Midoriya still stands beside him, waiting for additional instructions. This is typically when Shouta gives him feedback and possible homework for the next day. 

Today, however, he says, “Go get changed into your hero costume. It’s time to try working with that new ability of yours.” 

The boy looks surprised, but he sounds more enthusiastic when he nods and runs off to the changing rooms. 

To be honest, Shouta isn’t entirely sure how this training will go. 

For one thing, this new facet of Midoriya’s quirk is, if not strange, then at least uncommon. It’s not completely unheard of for quirks to develop new abilities, particularly in times of stress, but the new “Black Whip”, as Midoriya and Yagi have been calling them, seemingly isn’t even related to his student’s quirk - Superpower.

Midoriya had explained that it was a different manifestation of energy; that his quirk simply gave him enhanced energy and that it manifested either as super strength or as those mysterious tendrils. He had also told him that his quirk has the potential for that energy to manifest in new ways (though how he could know that, Shouta isn’t sure).

Shouta isn’t quite sure if he buys that explanation. He even suspects that Midoriya and Yagi are hiding something from him, but what that something is , he doesn’t know. 

He hopes, against all logic, that soon they will come to him and tell him whatever they’re hiding. The likelihood of that actually happening is low, Shouta will admit, but for now, he will keep his eyes open for anything he might find and learn. 

Midoriya comes running out the changing rooms, more full of energy than Shouta has seen him in a long time. It makes the corner of his mouth twitch up, before he hides it behind a bored expression. 

“I’m r-ready, sir!” Midoriya says, panting slightly from exertion. Why is he so tired? Shouta has seen the boy run far faster and farther and barely break a sweat. 

Shouta puts the information off to the side, right next to his other observations. (He will figure out what is going on with his student. But now is not the time.)

“Give me your wrists”, Shouta says. 

Midoriya does so, and Shouta unlocks them with his key. The boy’s wrists look slightly red and raw, causing Shouta to wince internally on his behalf. 

He can’t imagine they would be comfortable to wear, but Midoriya hadn’t uttered a word of complaint. Though, now that Shouta thinks about it, he has seen Midoriya looking at them with some unnameable emotion, during classes and training. 

Once the bracelets are off, Black Whip curls up out of both of Midoriya’s arms. He looks at them in an odd mixture of confusion and resignation. 

Shouta sighs, mentally preparing himself for this. “Okay, kid. Before we start using them, can you try to deactivate your quirk?” 

Midoriya nods, then looks at his arms in concentration. After a minute, he looks up at Shouta and shakes his head. “No matter what I do, it won’t go away. S-sorry, Sensei.” 

“That’s alright, don’t worry about it. Let’s try to focus on controlling them, for now.” 

They spend the next hour or so having Midoriya control the whips. It takes a while, but eventually they start to move in the way the boy wants them to. Even still, his control is lacking, so they sometimes lash out or act on their own. 

Shouta can tell Midoriya is trying, and only growing more and more frustrated. He tries to keep his words soft and his critiques lessened, but Midoriya still takes it all hard, showing clear signs of frustration and disappointment. This then causes his quirk to lash out more. 

By the end of it, Midoriya has sweat trickling down his face, and there’s a slight shakiness in his arms. Whether it’s from the quirk or something else, Shouta isn’t sure, but he knows well enough by now to call it for the day. 

He makes sure to look Midoriya in the eye when he says, “You did good today. Progress with quirks like this takes time, so don’t expect yourself to get it all on the first day.” 

Midoriya nods wearily, eyebrows still drawn down in clear frustration. 

Shouta hesitates for a moment, before reaching his arm over to ruffle Midoriya’s hair. The boy freezes at the movement, but doesn’t pull away, which he counts as a victory. 

“We’ll continue more with this tomorrow. Are you okay to stay after hero training to practice every day?” His student nods. 

“Good. Now, onto the bracelets. Recovery Girl said that once you have enough control, you don’t need to wear them anymore, even if the quirk stays active. For now, though, I think it’s best if we keep them on. Is that okay?” 

Midoriya says nothing, simply holding out his wrists. Shouta obliges him, putting the bracelets back on with a soft click . His student rubs them for a moment, then looks up at Shouta, uttering a quiet “Thank you, sensei.” 

Shouta knows he’s thanking him for more than just the bracelets. “No problem, kid. Now go on and get changed. We’re done for the day.” 

As Midoriya walks away, Shouta calls out, “You did good today, Midoriya.”

He receives no response. 

--------------------

Izuku has been having lessons over controlling Blackwhip with Aizawa for a few days now, and he still hasn’t fully gotten the hang of it. 

It’s sort of a sick cycle; the harder he tries, the more Blackwhip acts out, the more his frustration rises, the more Blackwhip acts out. Even today, after 4 days of training, he can still only barely grab one of their lightest weights with it, bringing it over to his arm for him to grab. Even then, blackwhip shakes and jitters as it goes. 

Izuku grits his teeth. What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he get the hang of this stupid quirk? 

It’s all the more daunting to know that he’ll likely be getting 5 more quirks, after this one. Yagi, Gran Torino, and Izuku have been scouring sources, trying to figure out anything they can about the powers Izuku is going to receive, but thus far they’ve had minimal success. 

If he can barely handle this quirk, what will happen when he gets 5 more? Will he become overloaded, like one of the Nomu that’s controlled by All for One and the League? Will he just keep failing, like he is now? 

Trying to use Blackwhip is like trying to put a muzzle on a wild beast. It can seem tame from a distance, and if Izuku doesn’t do anything to provoke it, the quirk is fine, but when he tries to put it in a cage it lashes out wildly. 

Luckily, nothing has been quite so disastrous as when it first manifested, but Izuku still holds his breath in fear that it will act out like that again when he least expects it. 

The quirk also has drawbacks. After using it intentionally for only a few minutes, it starts to leech off of Izuku’s energy, which is already in short supply these days. That, combined with the concentration needed to control it, leaves Izuku feeling wrung out after every training session. 

Regardless, he pushes himself as much as he can, because he knows he needs to get better. One for All hasn’t been increasing in its output, as it still puts too much strain on Izuku’s body. And what is the point of getting a new quirk if he can’t even use it properly? 

He reaches the whips out once more, wrapping it carefully around a 10 pound handweight. It shakes, especially as it reaches farther away, as if the whips are hesitant to be away from its user. 

Izuku increases his focus, ignoring the way his body shakes slightly under him. 

The whips secure their hold on the weight and lift it into the air. It’s strange, how it feels both like an extra limb and a controlled manifestation of energy. Izuku can almost feel the weight as if it’s in his own arms, but it also seems more distant than that. 

The weight returns to Izuku’s hand, and he breathes out a sigh of relief, letting Blackwhip fall into its now-normal resting position, curled around his arms. 

“Good job, kid,” Aizawa says, reaching over to ruffle Izuku’s hair. He’s… not quite sure why his teacher has started doing that, lately, but he can’t say he minds it. 

“I think that’s it for today. Let’s clean up.” 

They both do, moving things back where they belong. Aizawa allows Izuku to keep the cuffs off until the last possible moment, knowing how they can sometimes chafe against the skin on his wrists and slightly muddle his mind. 

Izuku had been hoping he would have enough control by now to not need them, but based on his performance today, he knows he’s still not ready. Blackwhip had flared up unexpectedly twice today, forcing Aizawa to use his quirk when Izuku panicked. 

Sure enough, once they finish cleaning, Aizawa pulls the bracelets out. Izuku holds his wrists up obediently. He doesn’t mind the cuffs, not really, because they work to keep other people safe. What really bugs Izuku is the fact that he needs them in the first place. 

Just as the second bracelet gets locked into place, Aizawa says, “Have you been eating enough, kid?” 

Izuku freezes. The words had been said with kindness, almost as if his teacher cared. The thought makes Izuku’s head spin, slightly, before he pushes it away. Teachers don’t care. Aizawa is just doing his job. 

“Y-yes, sensei,” Izuku says, trying not to make it sound like the lie that it is. 

It’s just… hard to eat, and feel okay afterwards, so Izuku does his best to avoid it when he can. He does make sure he eats enough to stay on his feet throughout the day, but sometimes it’s a near thing. 

His teacher doesn’t need to know that, so Izuku keeps those details to himself. 

Aizawa doesn’t look like he believes him. “I know you’ve been working hard lately, but it’s also important to know your limits and take care of yourself.” 

“I know that,” Izuku spits out before he can stop himself. 

When Izuku looks up to meet Aizawa’s eyes to apologize, he only sees concern. “S-sorry, sensei. I understand.” 

Aizawa’s gaze softens. “You know you can come to me for anything, right, kid?” 

Part of Izuku is tempted to come clean - to spill all of his mess and find… what, relief? Someone to help him? No, Izuku decides, best to keep it to himself. He can’t put this on Aizawa, and it’s not that big of an issue anyways. 

“Thank you, Sensei. I know, don’t worry.” Aizawa still looks worried, but Izuku puts on his best smile to reassure him. 

After a moment of hesitation, Aizawa sighs. “Okay, problem child. I’m here if you need me, just say the word.”

Izuku isn’t sure what to say to that, so instead he nods, hoping Aizawa can’t see the swirl of emotions that likely shows in his eyes. 

What emotions those are, Izuku isn’t fully sure. Something that hurts. 

“Alright, you’re free to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He jumps up at the dismissal and heads off to the changing rooms. 

As he begins to change, taking off the jacket of his hero costume, he glimpses himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He looks considerably thinner than he used to. Not quite as skinny as he was in middle school, but a lot of the bulk he’d put on during All Might’s training has been slimmed down to a lean muscle. 

His stomach caves in, slightly, then growls at the thought. He hasn’t eaten since his small portion of rice during lunch, and he can feel it. 

Izuku subconsciously takes a step closer, observing the now-permanent darkness under his eyes. When did his complexion become so pale? When did he lose his muscle mass? When did everyday tasks start to feel so exhausting and overwhelming? 

Suddenly, the whole thing seems much more serious. His breathing starts to pick up. If this keeps up, will he even be able to keep training? He doesn’t look very heroic, skinny and sickly as he is now. How will he ever be a hero? 

For a moment, he desperately wishes he was able to eat well, just like he used to. The content feeling of enjoying a meal instead of thinking about it every bite. Of having energy in excess and sleeping soundly at night. 

But, for whatever reason, he just can’t make himself eat more. Whenever he tries, it feels like the world is ending, and he can’t stick with it for longer than a couple of days without feeling like he’s failing ( at what, he doesn't know ). 

He tries to get himself to take a deep breath, but it just won’t come. So, instead, he allows himself to sink to the floor, hands flat on the cool ground beneath him. 

It’s fine. He can still be a hero, still train, still improve alongside his friends. He can do this. 

So why does it feel like he’s already so far behind he’ll never catch up? 

After a few minutes, his panic subsides enough for him to get up and finish changing. The whole time, his mind races with what he’s done and how it’s impacting him. 

Why can’t he just fix himself and be better? 

What is wrong with him? 

Chapter Text

Izuku continues to train under Aizawa, and Yagi sometimes joins on occasion. After a little more than a week of training with Blackwhip, Izuku is finally able to control it enough that he doesn’t have to wear the quirk suppressing bracelets anymore. 

It’s both a relief and a burden. Of course, Izuku’s friends had noticed the bracelets almost as soon as he received them, and he’d given them a quick explanation that they accepted without any further probing, likely sensing Izuku’s disdain and discomfort towards them and the situation at large. 

Now that they’re off, everyone notices, even though Recovery Girl had quickly healed the light irritation around his wrists. 

“Midoriya, your bracelets are gone! Does that mean you have control over your quirk now?” Kaminari asks, surprisingly perceptive as Izuku walks through the front door after training. 

The cuffs had just been removed, and Izuku can’t help but rub his wrists subconsciously - a habit he’s developed since starting to wear the bracelets. 

“I, uh, yeah, I guess so.” Truthfully, he had been borderline euphoric when Aizawa had nodded his approval for Izuku to take them off for good, but soon after Izuku had realized what that included. 

Now, he had to constantly control the output of Blackwhip. The quirk that has yet to disappear without outside influences. 

This also has the unfortunate consequence of it staying settled around his arms, almost like a bandage. He’s not quite sure if he wants to show them to his classmates, yet, and he still doesn’t have clearance to train with them again because of the quirk’s volatility. 

“Can we see it?” Ashido jumps up. The rest of the class subtly turns toward Izuku as well, curiosity evident in their gazes. 

Izuku takes a step back, suddenly overwhelmed. 

Without Aizawa here, if anything goes wrong, the consequences could be disastrous. Izuku could hurt someone again, he could lose control, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. 

(Izuku knows he has enough control by now that that wouldn’t happen. Even still, his mind fixates on the what-ifs , spiralling out of control.)

Fortunately, before Izuku has the chance to respond, Uraraka jumps in. “Guys, he clearly doesn’t want to. Let’s give him space; we’ll be able to see it during training.” 

Infinitely grateful, Izuku jumps on the chance to escape the situation and calm his racing heart. Blackwhip, ever perceptive, is also moving around subtly, reflecting his sudden panic. 

Though, now that he thinks about it, Blackwhip's presence is almost comforting. The weight is light, but when it moves Izuku can feel its weight on his skin. It helps. 

To prevent further probing about his quirk, Izuku begins wearing long sleeves at all times. It’s easy to excuse during winter, which Izuku is grateful for. The class seems to pick up on his discomfort when the quirk or training is mentioned, and leave him be, though he can still see the questions in their eyes when he still sits on the sidelines during training. 

For reasons Izuku can’t quite understand, Aizawa has yet to un-bench Izuku. Even with Blackwhip under enough control, it still has a tendency to act out, particularly when Izuku’s emotions run high or when he is training with Aizawa, so he uses that reasoning to justify it. 

So, Izuku continues to observe during heroics training, taking notes and helping his classmates, and training with Aizawa and Yagi after school. 

Still being separated so clearly from his peers weighs on Izuku, but he tries to push past the feeling and do the best with what he has. 

(Even if Blackwhip lashes out more than it should when he thinks on everything. When his emotions run high so often that it seems like half the time, all Izuku can think about is restraining the quirk. When it flares up when Izuku snaps at his classmates over small things, and when his thoughts race late at night.)

Eventually, one night, when studying with his closest friends, Todoroki brings up the question. “Midoriya, you haven’t needed quirk suppressants for a while now. But we still haven’t seen your quirk. Why?” 

Izuku shifts uncomfortably. He considers pushing the question off, saying he doesn’t have enough control to show it, but he knows that’s more lie than truth, especially in such a low-stress situation. 

He sighs. All of his friends deserve to know, and he knows Blackwhip enough by now to know it won’t act out - not here, at least. 

“I… Well, I guess I can show you guys. I was just… worried, I guess, about it getting out of control. But you all deserve to know.” 

They all look at him patiently, trying not to probe any further. 

Instead of explaining any further, Izuku simply pushes up his sleeves and lets Blackwhip rise a few inches above his arms. 

“Oh!” Iida says. “Is it… always active, on your arms like that?” 

Though the words were said with kindness, Izuku has to suppress a flinch. It’s embarrassing, not being able to control the quirk well enough to contain it fully, yet. 

“Uh, yeah, I can’t really deactivate it, but I know it won’t really act out, so it just… sits there, usually.” 

Tsuyu, ever perceptive, taps her chin. “Does it use up some of your energy, kero? You’ve seemed even more tired than usual, lately.” 

“Yeah, it, uh, it does,” Izuku says. The quirk does use up his energy, though only in small amounts when it stays dormant on his arms. Though that isn’t the entire reason he’s so exhausted, it does account for some of it. 

They all nod at him, then at each other, seemingly communicating with their eyes. What they’re saying, Izuku has no idea. 

“Thank you for showing us, Deku-kun,” Uraraka says with a soft smile. The rest of his friends grin with her, and Izuku can’t help but give a weak smile in response. 

From there, curious glances turn to understanding. Izuku can see his classmates’ eyes flickering to their arms, and he knows they all know, now. 

It’s relieving to not have to explain it to everyone. 

Time continues on. 

Izuku visits Eri with Aizawa and Togata, and seeing her smile more and more never fails to lift his spirits. 

In every other sense, though, the rest of Izuku keeps feeling continuously weighed down. 

His stomach is constantly hollowed, but he’s grown so accustomed to it that he never even feels hungry, anymore. He makes an effort to eat enough to fuel what limited activity he is doing, but even still, he finds himself lightheaded and shaky. 

Even worse is how strong his emotions have gotten lately. He’s somehow faster to tears than he used to be, and so many situations seem more daunting than they used to. 

He snaps at his friends at the smallest things, then becomes filled with regret the next moment. 

Part of Izuku just wants his classmates to yell at him - to berate him for his unacceptable behavior. But they never do. Instead, they forgive him quickly and treat him with nothing but kindness. Kindness that Izuku doesn’t deserve. 

(Why they act this way, Izuku doesn’t know. But he does miss the knowing looks they give each other, and the discussions he misses on the nights he locks himself away in his room.)

Somehow, despite it all, Izuku can also feel himself slipping more and more into a jaded mindset. If he can’t train with his friends, and he isn’t improving - not really - then why try? 

Those nights are the hardest. Nights when he can’t come up with the motivation to get up, to strive for something, to look forward to something. Instead, he stares at his wall and allows time to pass him by.

It scares Izuku. But he’s always able to snap himself out of it enough to do what he must. 

That’s all he has energy for, these days. 

---------------------

It speaks lengths to Eri’s progress that she’s actively basking in the attention 1-A is giving her. 

Though this isn’t her first time visiting the class, she visits rarely enough that everyone makes a big deal over her coming. 

The first time she came to the dorms, most of the class had rushed in to greet her and introduce themselves, especially after hearing so much about her. Predictably, she had shrunk away and hidden behind Izuku the whole time, and her stay had been fairly short. 

Since then, she has visited a few times, but never for long. Today, however, Aizawa has given permission for her to stay for dinner and a movie night, which has everyone in the class beaming from ear to ear as she walks in. 

They all crowd around her, and she takes it all in with only some hesitation, still choosing to stay close to Izuku should she need moral support. 

Izuku grins as he watches her interact more and more with his classmates. They lessen the impact by only approaching her in small groups or as individuals, but Eri admirably deals with the attention and speaks up more and more. 

They all end up congregating in the living room while Kacchan and Satou cook. 

Eri sits wedged in-between Izuku and Tsuyu while various members of the class tell stories to pass the time. Often, she grows confused and needs more information on certain topics she doesn’t know much about, but everyone is happy to fill her in. The more she learns, the brighter her smile gets; everyone else’s grows too. 

“Oi, dinner’s ready!” Kacchan calls from the kitchen.

Everyone clamours to find their spots around the ridiculously large dining table. Predictably, Eri grabs Izuku’s hand and brings him with her as she finds open seats near Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Kirishima. 

It’s not surprising that she’s latched on to the four of them like she has - especially Izuku - considering they were a part of her rescue. She’s most familiar with them, and isn’t afraid to show her favoritism. 

The innocent and obvious bias towards Izuku makes him feel lighter. It’s nice to know he made an impact on her; that he could save her. 

They take their seats and start passing food around. Izuku helps Eri grab whatever food she likes, often stopping to explain what each item is. She trusts his judgement and says yes to anything he recommends. 

They begin eating, and lighthearted chatter fills the room. 

After a few minutes, Eri turns to Izuku and pokes him on the shoulder. “Deku, why isn’t there more food on your plate? Mr. Aizawa says that people - especially heroes like you - should eat a lot to be super strong.” 

Izuku can feel his classmates stiffen around him, subtly shifting their focus in his direction. 

His plate only has a small helping of rice, a serving of cooked vegetables, and a small portion of meat. It only fills half his plate, while everyone else’s is full to bursting. (Even that much food makes Izuku feel guilty, but he’d grabbed that much so that Eri wouldn’t notice.)

“Oh, I’m not super hungry, and I’ve already eaten some of my food.” 

She continues to look at him. Her large, puppy-dog eyes dig into his heart. 

“... But I can grab some more. You’re right, Eri-chan, it is important to eat to be strong.” He says the words with some reluctance, but he also knows that his classmates are listening. Maybe if they hear him say this, they won’t pester him quite so much. 

(He knows the effort is futile, but it can’t hurt to try.)

He obediently loads up more vegetables and rice on his plate, until Eri gives him a bright smile. 

“Okay, good! Let’s eat together!” 

Izuku can’t help but grin in response, even as he can feel anxiety rising in his chest. There’s just so much food in front of him, and he knows he shouldn’t be eating this much. Especially when he knows he has the willpower to lessen it. 

Why is food making him panic so much? Why does it matter; when did it start to matter? 

He fights back his racing thoughts and heart, and takes a bite. Under Eri’s watchful eyes, he slowly but surely clears the whole plate. It sinks like a weight in his stomach. His too full, protesting stomach. 

But he can’t let Eri down, especially not with all of his classmates watching. 

Even as they clean up dinner and settle down to watch a movie, Izuku can’t bring himself to be fully present. Not when all he can think about is how much he just ate, and how he shouldn’t have eaten it, but he didn’t have any choice, but it feels so bad . 

He tries to push those thoughts aside and focus on making Eri’s experience as enjoyable as possible, but the back of his mind continues racing against his will. 

It leaves him distracted enough that he doesn’t notice Aizawa’s watchful gaze from the corner of the room, monitoring it all. 

--------------------

Ochako eyes Midoriya warily as he grabs his lunch. Well, if that meager portion can even be called a lunch, that is. On it is only a small pile of vegetables and some rice. 

He sets his tray down, and begins picking at it slowly, as per usual. 

Also in line with his recent behavior, he makes no attempt to start or engage in conversation, seemingly just going through the motions. It worries Ochako, and from the look in her friend’s eyes, it worries them too. 

He’s been so unlike the Midoriya Ochako knows, especially lately. There’s no longer any light in his eyes, except for maybe when he visits Eri. She supposes it must be because he’s still barred from training with the rest of the class, and the stresses of his quirk, but something in her gut tells her that there’s more to the situation than meets the eye. 

All in all, his behavior has gotten to the point that Ochako and her friends have made an action plan - one that starts now. Her gut squirms in anxiety, though she doesn’t know why she would have reason to be nervous. They just want to talk to him - really talk to him. Though the cafeteria might not be the most ideal setting, they are hoping he will finally open up without too many options to escape. 

Besides, it’ll only be some gentle prodding. What could go wrong? 

Ochako looks to Iida, hoping he might have the courage to get this started. He nods once. 

“Midoriya-kun. Can we speak, for a moment?” 

Midoriya looks up, the overhead lights making his eyebags stand out against his pale skin. “Uh, sure, Iida-kun. Don’t we always talk during lunch?” 

Iida somehow makes his voice soft, unlike his usually boisterous voice. “Yes, but this conversation will be about more… serious matters, I suppose.” 

This causes Midoriya to pale further. He seemingly retreats back into himself, but still says, “Y-yeah, we can t-talk.” 

“Well,” Ochako starts, “we’ve noticed you… really haven’t been doing well, Deku-kun. You always look so tired, and it’s like you’ve lost your motivation to do most things. We know you’ve had some trouble with your quirk lately, but we feel like there’s more to it than that.” 

She looks to the rest of the group, who all nod in agreement. 

Ochako takes a deep breath. “Deku. Please, just tell us what is going on.”

“Yeah, Midoriya,” Todoroki chimes in. “We just want to help you, but we need to know what you need first.” 

“Yes! As your friends, and as fellow heroes, it is our responsibility to help out a friend in need!” Iida says, chopping the air vehemently. 

Midoriya looks like a deer caught in headlights. Something under his sleeve bulges for a moment, likely his quirk, sitting on the skin of his arms like always. 

“I… I really don’t-”

“Please, Midoriya-chan,” Tsuyu says. She lays a gentle hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. He flinches at the touch. “Let us help you. It’s okay to not be okay, you just need to open up.” 

Midoriya seems to withdraw even further. He casts his eyes down to the ground, grimacing like he’s in pain. 

Ochako eyes Midoriya’s lackluster tray of food. “Deku-kun… Are you struggling with eating?”

He freezes, looking up at her. His hesitation is an answer in and of itself. 

Ochako’s heart breaks just a little more for her friend. She knows all too well what a lack of nutrients and proper, filling food can do to you, and she’s seen every one of those signs in Midoriya. 

Iida gasps loudly. “Midoriya! You know the importance of eating enough - you said so just the other day to Eri! What could possibly bring you to-”

“ Iida, ” Ochako spits out, trying to stop him from saying anything further. But the damage has been done. 

Approaching Midoriya’s problems head-on is apparently too much for him. He stands up quickly with a wild look in his eyes. His quirk flares out from under his sleeves, and he pulls them back, then eyes the door nearby. Ochako can tell he’s getting ready to run away, and she’s not sure if she should follow him or not. 

Then, as he takes a few steps away from the table, his skin becomes deathly pale, his eyes roll up in his head, and he collapses to the ground. 

Fortunately, Iida is fast enough to catch him before he lands with too much force, but Ochako’s heart stops nonetheless. 

“Is he- is he breathing?” She asks, rushing over to join them. 

“Yes, he’s breathing,” Iida says, looking guiltily down at his unconscious friend. 

“Iida,” Tsuyu says. “Take Midoriya-chan to Recovery Girl’s office. She’ll take care of him. But you need to go now .” 

He nods seriously, gathering Midoriya in his arms and rushing off with an extra boost from his quirk. 

Ochako doesn’t get a chance to say or do anything else. Instead she just stands and watches them disappear.

--------------------

Shouta pauses his grading when his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, and his heart drops when he sees who it is. Getting a call from Chiyo almost never means good news. 

He hastily picks it up. “Who’s hurt?” 

She doesn’t hesitate or berate him for assuming the worst. Instead, she simply says, “Midoriya. It’s probably best if you come down.” 

“I’ll be right there.” 

Previous grading forgotten, Shouta all-but sprints down to Chiyo’s office, cursing himself all the way. 

He had known something wasn’t right with Midoriya. Sure, he’d pressed and asked the boy directly, but Midoriya also happens to be one of Shouta’s most stubborn students. He should have known something would happen, but he didn’t expect it to be to this level. 

Well, knowing his problem child, it’s not too surprising he landed in the infirmary, but it makes Shouta’s heart twist all the same.

He has no idea what to expect when he finally arrives, but it still shocks him to see Midoriya laying still on the bed, pale and connected to an IV drip. 

“What happened?” He spits out the question harshly, but fortunately Chiyo doesn’t chide him for it. She’s always been good at reading Shouta’s mood, and she can no doubt sense his worry. 

Chiyo gestures to Iida, who stands just off to the side. Shouta hadn’t noticed him. “Iida here says Midoriya got upset over something at lunch-” he’ll have to ask about that later, “-and when the boy stood up, he passed out.”

“Any major injuries? Why is he still unconscious?”

Chiyo holds up a finger, stopping Shouta before he can continue. “First off, take a breath and calm down. Secondly, I’ll tell you more, but Iida has to leave first.” 

Iida looks about to protest, but Chiyo says, “Midoriya will be okay, I promise. We are just going to discuss confidential information. Run along back to your friends now, dearie. I’ll let you know when you can see him.”

Shouta nods to Iida as well. “I’ll keep you updated, kid. For now, just go back to class.” 

“Yes, Sensei,” Iida says, looking slightly crestfallen. Never one to disobey an authority figure, he walks out, not without some hesitation. 

Before Shouta has a chance to say anything, Chiyo adds, “I’ll tell you more once Toshinori arrives. He should be here any moment now.” 

Sure enough, the lanky man bursts into the room moments later. “Is Young Midoriya alright? What happened? Is he-”

Yagi cuts himself off as he spots Aizawa, and then gapes when he sees Midoriya’s small form on the infirmary bed. 

“Both of you should take a seat,” Chiyo says, gesturing to two chairs within view of her computer screens. They both obediently sit. “Before you ask any questions, Midoriya is just fine. Physically, he didn’t injure himself when he fell, and he has no other injuries.” 

Shouta breaths a sigh of relief, but it freezes in his chest. Why is Midoriya still unconscious, then? Why hasn’t he woken up yet? 

Chiyo must see the worry in both of their faces, as she continues, “I did find some rather worrying things after a few quick tests, however. You see, Midoriya is underweight - and he’s seemingly lost the majority of it recently.” 

Shouta had noticed his student losing some of his muscle mass, but looking at the screen, he berates himself for not noticing quite how drastic it truly was. The boy had lost well over 50 pounds from his weight during the beginning of the school year, when their physicals had all been updated. 

“His BMI is much lower than it used to be, and he’s lost most of his muscle mass and his body fat levels are way below average. He is also dehydrated and malnourished.” She takes a deep breath. “Midoriya clearly hasn’t been eating enough - to the level that it’s become almost detrimental to his health.”

“Oh, my boy…” Yagi says, clenching his fist. “I had no idea it was this bad.” 

Shouta can’t help but agree. He’d had his suspicions, sure, but for things to come to this … 

But now is not the time to wallow. “Why isn’t he awake, yet?” 

Chiyo shakes her head. “I’m not fully sure, but I’m betting he’s exhausted. His body has likely run out of energy. The boy looks like he hasn’t had a proper night’s rest in a long time.” Shouta can’t help but agree. Midoriya had been looking more and more exhausted the past few months. He knows the toll that can take. 

“I haven’t had to use my quirk on him, because he has no real physical injuries, but he still needs to rest before he wakes up.” 

Both teachers nod. 

“So what do we do about this?” Yagi asks. For once, Shouta agrees with him. 

“Well, for starters, the boy needs more nutrition. I have him hooked up to an IV drip for fluids, and there are nutrients in there. It won’t be quite enough to get him all he needs, but we can start him on a nutrition plan once he wakes up. Midoriya needs to start eating more, especially with his quirk increasing his metabolism.” 

Shouta glances over at Midoriya, and spots the quirk suppressing bracelets on his wrists yet again. Chiyo must have put them on him, and Shouta can guess that his quirk had lashed out unconsciously. It’s probably for the best, for now, until they know his emotional state. 

“He’ll likely have to stay here for a few days,” Chiyo continues. “I want to keep careful watch over his food intake and make sure he gets a set diet moving forward. I trust you two will ensure he sticks to it after he leaves?” 

Yagi and Shouta both nod. Shouta will have to talk to some of his students about this, once they get caught up on the situation. It will likely be Midoriya’s closest friends, as he doesn’t want the entire class caught up in it, but Shotua knows the boy’s friends will stick with him no matter what. 

(He reflects, just for a moment, on what great heroes they will be, one day. On what great heroes they are now . His chest blooms with pride.)

They discuss more details on future steps, and then settle down as they wait for Midoriya to wake up. 

After a good hour, he finally begins to stir. It’s honestly a relief to see. The sight of his student being so still and pale had worried Shouta more than he would like to admit. 

Midoriya slowly blinks his eyes open, and stares at the ceiling, seemingly orienting himself. Fortunately ( or unfortunately, in Shouta’s opinion ) this isn’t Midoriya’s first time in the infirmary, so he shouldn’t be too disoriented. 

After a few moments, Midoriya shoots upright, likely remembering the events that brought him here. 

“Woah, my boy, slow down,” Yagi says. “You’re alright.” 

Midoriya looks around, before his gaze settles on his right wrist, which is connected to an IV and has a quirk suppressing bracelet around it. His gaze doesn’t move from it for a long time. 

Eventually, Shouta clears his throat. “Midoriya.” His student whips his head up. “How are you feeling?” 

“W-what happened? Why am I here?” Shouta notices the way Midoriya not-so-subtly ignores his question, but chooses not to push - for now. 

Chiyo speaks up. “Well, dearie, you passed out and your friend took you here.” 

Midoriya flushes an impressive shade of red. It’s nice to see some color in his face, though. “Wh-whoops,” he stutters out, rubbing the back of his neck. “S-sorry, Recovery Girl.”

Her gaze softens more. “Don’t worry, dear, I’m not upset about that. What is troubling me is why you passed out.”

Midoriya stares down at his hands again, and a look settles across his face - almost as if he is preparing for a blow. Shouta supposes he can’t blame the boy. 

Chiyo continues on after a brief silence. “Midoriya, to put it quite bluntly, you are malnourished and dehydrated. I don’t want to assume too much, but everything I’ve seen points to one fact. You clearly haven’t been eating enough, and I’m afraid you may have an eating disorder.”

Shouta notices that Midoriya doesn’t look particularly shocked by her words. Instead, he looks frightened, and maybe a little resigned. So it’s true , he thinks. 

Chiyo’s words aren’t unfounded. Shouta had reported his observations, and the observations of his students, to Chiyo. He might not be an expert, but even he can piece together what has been going on with his student. 

That doesn’t stop Shouta from feeling like a failure, but he pushes his emotions aside. They won’t help him, not when he has a student to care for, right in front of him. 

“My boy,” Yagi says. “Is it true? What Recovery Girl is saying?” 

Midoriya curls into himself. After a moment of internal debate, he simply nods, a singular tear falling with the motion. 

Though Shouta had expected this, the confirmation still feels like a punch to the gut. Actually, a gut-punch would be preferable to this. 

Yagi places a hand on Midoriya’s, but the boy flinches back slightly at the touch. Shouta shares a look with Yagi and Chiyo. They all come to an agreement. 

Shouta brings his chair closer to Midoriya’s bed, and he slowly places a hand on his student’s shoulder. Nobody says anything. 

Midoriya curls up further as more tears stream down his face. 

There will be more time to talk later. For now, Midoriya needs this moment, this comfort, this reassurance. And Shouta is more than happy to provide it. 

Shouta’s heart breaks a little further as Midoriya chokes out sobs, body shuddering. 

But he isn’t going anywhere. 

Chapter Text

Izuku feels exhausted. And, now that he’s feeling slightly more coherent, a strange mixture of embarrassment and detestation. 

He can’t fault his teachers - he did cause quite the scene, passing out and then crying his eyes out as soon as he woke up. Mostly, he’s angry at himself for how much he’d given away. Despite his best efforts, they’d found out, and he just… hadn’t been able to keep it in anymore. 

He’s regretting that decision more and more. They all keep giving him looks, even after he’d calmed down, as if he’s fragile and breakable and weak . Izuku hates it. 

Recovery Girl comes around frequently to check on his vitals, and a little while after waking up, informs him of his new diet. 

That is the thing Izuku hates the most. With everyone around, it’s not like he can just not eat, especially when they won’t leave him alone for any period of time. They bring in food specially made by Lunch Rush (something that would make Izuku absolutely geek out in any other circumstance) that is intentionally high in calories. 

It all fits in with his new eating plan - one that Recovery Girl had been very clear he was to follow absolutely. Though the amount of food listed, especially in the beginning, isn’t a lot , it’s still much more than Izuku has been eating lately, and the thought of putting all of that food in his body makes him slightly nauseous. It had been hard to hold back tears as she’d told him about their next steps. 

Apparently, he’s being forced to go to counseling sessions with Hound Dog twice a week, and he has to follow the new diet to the letter. She’d even given Yagi and Aizawa a sharp look and they had nodded seriously, as if they were going to be his enforcers on the matter. 

Thankfully, Yagi and Aizawa have since left. Their presence had been strangely comforting, for a little while, but once Izuku came to his senses about the situation, he quickly became irritated with them. 

Why, exactly, he isn’t quite sure. 

They had been nothing but supportive and understanding, but being under the weight of their gazes had made Izuku feel so small. Like there was something seriously wrong with him (and maybe there is , but he pushes the thought away) and that he was something to be pitied. And helped, which Izuku wouldn’t mind, except for all the work that comes with the whole ordeal. 

Recovery Girl had also told Izuku he has to stay in the infirmary for at least a few more days, so he can rest, up his food intake, and get the nutrients he apparently really needs. (The logical side of his mind agrees with everything Recovery Girl had said, but the voice of logic has gotten so much smaller lately, while the voice of his… problem had only grown bigger.)

That also, unfortunately, means that he needs to stay connected to his IV drip, which minimizes his movement greatly. He also has to eat all of the nutrient-dense vitamins Recovery Girl brings out frequently. It’s only been a few hours and he’s already tired of it. 

His one saving grace is that his classmates haven’t come yet. He knows they will, eventually, but Izuku figures Aizawa is purposefully keeping them away, while Izuku finds his balance. 

A balance that he absolutely detests. His stomach already feels too full from the meals he’s been forced to eat under Recovery Girl’s watchful eye. Though he has his phone with him, he can’t bring himself to open it up and look at the messages he’s sure are waiting there. So instead he sits and thinks. It’s an exhausting place to be in. 

The whole time, he fights against himself. Should he have really told his teachers about all of this? Should he tell them more? Will they really help? They’ve been nothing but supportive and kind so far, but what if it’s all a lie? What if they hate him, and are ready to kick him out of the program? 

Izuku wouldn’t put it past them to do so. It’s illogical to keep someone who can’t even keep themself healthy in the hero course. Someone who can’t even protect themself from their own thoughts. Someone weak, and useless, and unworthy of… well, anything. 

The worst thought, however, is that Yagi will regret giving One for All to Izuku. Yagi has never voiced any doubts before, but knowing that his successor is this weak… Well, Izuku tries to push that thought away. 

Sometime later, Aizawa comes back in. The school day must be over, Izuku supposes, though he hadn’t really noticed it. 

Seeing Aizawa’s typically bored expression somehow makes Izuku nervous. To have anyone truly know makes him nervous. He has no idea how to act, or how they will act, and he hates not knowing things. 

Aizawa must notice Izuku’s nerves, and softens his face. It’s a strange sight to see on his teacher’s face, but not an unwelcome one. He takes a seat in the chair next to Izuku’s bed - the same one he’d sat in earlier. 

“How are you, kid?” 

Even after hearing the question more and more from the man, Izuku still feels startled by it. He’s still not fully sure if Aizawa cares, or if he’s simply doing his duty as a hero, but being asked that by anyone other than his mother still makes him deeply uncomfortable. 

(How sad is it that he isn’t used to people caring , an angry part of his mind whispers. He ignores it.)

“I…” Izuku trails off. How honest should he be? While he does trust Aizawa - at least in his capabilities as a pro hero and teacher - does he trust him enough to tell him the truth? To be open and honest? A deep, ingrained part of Izuku protests that he shouldn’t burden others, shouldn’t confirm their suspicions that he’s nothing more than a worthless Deku. 

“I’m… okay, I guess.” He settles for somewhere in-between. Not quite true, not quite a lie. 

Aizawa looks at him suspiciously. Izuku supposes he probably doesn’t look great, considering everything that’s happened. “You don’t have to tell me everything, kid. In fact, you don’t have to say anything at all. But I want to preface this all by saying that I am here for you, and I will continue to be.” 

A lump forms in Izuku’s throat, one he can’t quite swallow. 

“It is my duty as a hero and a teacher to help you in any way that I can, but more than that, it is because I care for your wellbeing. I’m sorry if it hasn’t seemed like that in the past, but you, Midoriya Izuku, are a valued member of my class. You’ll be a fine hero someday, but for now, let us be heroes and help you.” 

Izuku can’t hold his tears back anymore. The words are so overwhelming but also so deeply, deeply necessary. He stifles a sob in his palm. 

Aizawa reaches over and slowly rests a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. The dam breaks, yet again, and Izuku finds himself focusing on the warmth of the hand, even as he cries. His teacher simply sits and rubs his shoulder the whole while, without a sound of complaint. 

After what feels like forever, Izuku’s tears finally run dry, leaving him feeling empty and exhausted. 

“S-sorry, sensei.” He mumbles, wiping his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Aizawa brings his hand back, and Izuku finds himself missing the physical reassurance. He resolutely refuses to say anything, though. “You can say no if you wish, but can I ask you a few questions?” 

Izuku sighs deeply. If he says no, he might never say anything. And, after everything his teacher had said, he finds himself wanting desperately to trust the man. To accept his help. “Okay. You can ask.” 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“It started around Kamino, when Kacchan was kidnapped. But it didn’t really get bad until Blackwhip manifested, I think.” 

Aizawa looks doubtful, and it makes Izuku wonder just how much his teacher really knows. Still, he doesn’t press the issue more. “Okay. I won’t press much about your reasoning and headspace-” for now, Izuku fills in mentally, “- but I just want to know. How can I help you? What do you need?” 

Izuku squirms. He’s never been good at identifying his own needs - it’s become second nature to push down everything he might need and instead focus on others. How can he express, or even identify, what Aizawa can do?

“I… I’m not sure, sensei. I think I just maybe need some time to process?” Aizawa nods. “And… maybe some privacy? I’m not sure how comfortable I am with my classmates knowing about… this,” he finishes lamely. 

“I get that, kid. We can definitely give you some time and space - I’ll make sure your classmates don’t visit until you’re comfortable. I will warn you, however, that some of your friends have picked up on a lot of things.” Izuku supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, especially after passing out right in front of them. Still, he wonders how much they truly know, and how much they’ve told Aizawa. 

He can’t find himself too upset about it, even if the situation is uncomfortable. 

“Still,” Aizawa continues, “I’ll leave it up to you how much you wish to tell them. When they ask where you are, I’ll tell them to leave the matter alone. Unless there’s anything you think I should say?” 

Izuku thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, that should be fine, for now.” 

He knows they’ll come to him brimming with questions, but at least he can have a little bit of time and space before that happens. 

“Last thing, before I leave you to rest,” Aizawa says. 

Izuku nods his consent.

“Is there anything else you want to share or ask? I’m all ears, but I’ll respect your wishes with whatever you choose.”

“No, not for now. Just… thank you, sensei.” For caring, for listening, for being here, for everything, he doesn’t say. 

Aizawa seems to understand nonetheless. He smiles, then fondly ruffles Izuku’s hair. He leans into the touch, allowing himself the small comfort it provides. 

“Of course, kid.” He stands up to leave, then looks back and says, “And get some rest.” 

Once Aizawa leaves the room, Izuku allows himself to lay down, and quickly falls into a deep, almost peaceful sleep, something akin to content burrowing in his chest. 

-------------------

Inko automatically panics when she sees the call coming from UA. These types of calls are never good, and her mind jumps to every worst-case scenario. 

Of course, she’s been called by UA before, but every time it comes, nothing good comes from it. And knowing Izuku, she doesn’t have high hopes for this one. Anticipatory dread curls in her gut. 

Before she can spiral any further, she picks it up. “Hello?” 

What she hears next makes her blood freeze. “In the infirmary? Is Izuku alright? What happened?” 

“Rest assured he is okay, Mrs. Midoriya, but the finer details should be discussed in person, preferably. Would you be able to make a visit sometime soon?” 

Inko breathes a sigh of relief. It’s nothing urgent, thank goodness, but the news also leaves so much unknown. “Yes, of course. I’ll come this evening, after my shift is over.”

The call ends quickly, after that, and Inko finds herself an anxious mess the rest of the workday. What could have happened? The man on the phone - Aizawa, she thinks his name is - had said that Izuku was fine, but fine is such a loose term. And clearly her baby boy can’t be if he’s in the infirmary, of all places. 

The moment her shift ends, Inko gets into her car and goes as fast as she dares for UA. Thankfully, it’s not far, and she is rung in through the gates with ease. 

She barely pays any attention to the hero that escorts her, and soon she finds herself walking in the doors, where she spots Izuku. Her baby boy, who is currently lying curled up on a bed, one of his arms attached to an IV drip. 

“What happened?” She can’t stop herself from asking. Recovery Girl walks over from her seat in her office, and gestures for Inko to sit down. She chooses the chair that sits just next to Izuku’s bed. Her hand reaches out for his, and she grasps it softly enough that her son stays asleep. 

Recovery Girl gives her a general overview of recent events - Izuku’s behavior, symptoms, and what led to him getting here. Inko can feel herself paling further and further the more she hears. 

Once Recovery Girl finishes, she allows Inko some time to herself. 

How had she missed so much? Of course, Izuku had been busier than ever lately, and he hardly ever came home. On the few occasions they called, he had seemed tired and had been more closed off, but she had attributed that to it being some sort of teen phase. She had never assumed it would be anything like this. 

And now here he is, unconscious and looking paler than ever surrounded by the white of the infirmary. When she looks closer, she can see dark circles under his eyes, and he seems so small now. 

Ever since Izuku started training with All Might, he had grown in so many ways. Physically, he bulked up significantly and became so much stronger, and he had become so much more motivated and passionate. 

Even after everything he had gone through while at UA, he still remained so bright, cheerful, and happy. It had made Inko happier than she could ever express, to see her son so joyful, especially after everything he had gone through before gaining a quirk. 

But now… now Izuku looks small, almost like he had been in middle school. So small and, if Recovery Girl is to be believed, so sad. It makes her heart heavy to see him like this. 

She stays lost in her thoughts for a while. Eventually, as the sun is starting to set, Izuku stirs. 

Inko rubs the hand she still holds in her own. “Hey, baby.” 

He blinks slowly, taking a moment to process her being there. “Mom? What are you doing here?” 

She smiles at him softly. “Your teachers called me. How are you feeling?” 

“Wait so… w-what do you know?” Inko notices the obvious deflection, but chooses to ignore it for now. 

“They told me some. Be honest with me, young man.” She gives him her most serious Mom look, and he sits up straighter. “Is it true, what they’ve told me? That you haven’t been eating enough - that you’ve been distant and withdrawn, and that you collapsed during lunch today?”

Izuku ducks his head, looking ashamed. Inko softens instinctually - it’s hard to stay mad at her son for long, but this conversation needs to be had. She needs to know. 

After a moment, he simply says, “Yes. I’m s-sorry, Mom.” 

Tears grow in both of their eyes. “Oh, baby. Why didn’t you say anything? Why would you do that?” It hurts her heart to know he had willingly done such things to himself. 

She’s always hated when he talked about and treated himself as if he were less than anyone else. She knows it likely came from his quirkless status, and even her adamant protests and attempts to change his mind hadn’t truly worked. 

But to do this? To restrict food, to isolate himself? Those are things that, admittedly, Inko has gone through before, but to see it happening in her son sends guilt and worry stabbing through her. 

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just… I don’t know. Everything became so much so suddenly, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. And then it just got worse and worse and I didn’t know what to do about it. And I know it’s bad but I just couldn’t stop . I’m s-so sorry.” Izuku collapses in on himself, shoulder shaking with sobs. 

Her heart throbs as she wraps her arms around him. “Oh, Izuku. I’m so sorry you went through that. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I’m here now, baby. I’m here, and I love you so much.”

Izuku doesn’t respond, instead he sobs even harder. Inko feels tears falling down her face with him. Both of them are Midoriyas, through and through. 

Inko tugs Izuku further into her, and he burrows his face into her neck, hugging her back tightly. 

He doesn’t say anything else, but Inko is content to stay here, as long as she needs to, with her son. 

“Oh baby, I love you. It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let you go through this alone.” 

She continues her soft reassurances until his tears finally run dry. Even still, she hugs him tighter. 

-----------------------

After the draining day Izuku had yesterday, he spends most of the day sleeping. He wakes up much later than usual and forces down the breakfast Recovery Girl brings him. 

He had forced his mom to leave last night, insisting that he would be fine, and that she needed to return to work. She had been reluctant to go, but eventually he was able to convince her to go - on the condition that she will come back to visit soon. 

Without anyone - sans Recovery Girl - around, he grows bored enough that he brings out his phone and checks his notifications. Izuku is honestly a bit shocked at the sheer number of texts and calls he’s received in the last day or so. It’s so overwhelming, in fact, that he mostly just reads through them, unable to bring himself to reply to the majority. 

However, after a brief internal struggle, he decides to simply send a quick update to his friends group chat - one that includes Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, and Tsuyu. He tells them that he’s doing well, and that they can come visit him if they want. 

“Recovery Girl?” Izuku asks. 

She peeks her head around the corner. “Yes, Dearie?” 

“Is, uh, is it okay if my friends come and visit?” 

Recovery Girl gives a soft smile. “Yes, that’s alright. But you can’t have too many of them in here with you at once, you hear me?”

He thanks her with a nod, then says, “Um, how much am I allowed to tell them? Do they… know?” He trails off weakly. 

“As far as I know, they haven’t been told any details - only that you’re here and you’re okay. As to what they’ve been able to piece together… I’m not sure, but your teachers and I haven’t told them any specifics.” 

“Alright, thanks, Recovery Girl.” He gives her the biggest smile he can. Which is… admittedly not very big, but it’s the best he’s got right now. 

Decision made, Izuku gathers his courage and sends off the text, then closes his phone before it can blow up at him. Even though the rest of his class is probably in the middle of their lessons, he has no doubt his friends will respond immediately. 

Sure enough, once lunch rolls around, Izuku starts having rounds of visitors. Under Recovery Girl’s strict instructions, no more than five are allowed to enter at once, which suits Izuku just fine. 

He loves his classmates, don’t get him wrong, but they have a tendency to be a little much sometimes. 

His closest friends visit first, and they look relieved to see him… well, conscious. He quickly reassures them that he’s okay, and though they clearly don’t believe his words, they let it slide. 

Izuku knows he’ll have to tell them eventually, but for now, it’s enough for them to just chat meaninglessly. 

By the time lunch is over, all of his classmates (and Shinsou, even!) have visited, and he feels thoroughly wrung out. 

His previously lightened mood drops when Lunch Rush comes to deliver Izuku’s lunch. 

With Recovery Girl watching, he knows he has to eat it, but he still feels so full from his breakfast. The food, undoubtedly as delicious as always, looks unappetizing. 

He forces himself to eat a portion of it, but after several painstaking bites, he can’t bring himself to eat anymore. His mind is screaming at him, and his stomach rolls uncomfortably. 

Recovery Girl raises an eyebrow when Izuku tries to subtly set his plate away. “Can you eat any more than that, Midoriya?” 

He shakes his head guiltily. “I-I’m sorry. I’m still full from breakfast, and-” He cuts himself off, not wishing to reveal anything further. 

She takes a long look at him and the amount he ate. His stomach rolls with guilt - at what, he can’t determine. Himself, for eating as much as he did? For disappointing Recovery Girl?

She makes a small hmph , then says, “That’s an okay amount to eat for now, while we get you accustomed to eating more, but if you start to purposefully restrict your food too much, we might have to give you a feeding tube.”

Izuku’s heart stops. A what? Out loud, he says, “W-what? I… N-no, no I don’t want that. I promise I’ll eat-” his stomach twists “-so that won’t be necessary.” 

To emphasize his point, he grabs his plate and shovels in a few more mouthfuls of food and instantly regrets it. 

Recovery Girl shakes her head. “Dearie, it’s okay for now. You did good, eating that much.” The praise feels empty and meaningless. Why should she be happy about this? “I don’t think it will have to go that far - but I won’t hesitate to bring it to that if I feel like I need to, okay?”

“O-okay. I understand.” Belatedly, he adds, “Thank you.” 

The smile she gives him is soft and warm, though Izuku doesn’t feel like he deserves it. 

As Izuku sits for the next few hours, his emotions run all over the place. He feels angry for being put in this situation - angry at his teachers and Recovery Girl for putting him here. Can’t they see that he’s completely fine? 

A strong part of him protests that things really aren’t that bad and that everyone is overreacting. Why do they even care so much anyways? It’s not like Izuku has been doing… this for no reason. Eating food is for worthy heroic students, which Izuku is assuredly not one of. 

He then grows more upset at himself than anyone else. Why couldn’t he have been better at hiding this? Why had he let it get this bad? He’s done nothing but make everyone worry about him, all because he couldn’t… couldn’t even eat, and stay calm, and rein in his emotions. 

Then, he feels the all-too-familiar sorrow of everything. They know now. What is he going to do? How should he act - how are they going to act? 

With his body refusing to work with him, and One for All and Blackwhip moreso, how can he progress and become the successor All Might needs him to be? He hasn’t made hardly any progress recently, and who knows what Shigaraki is up to, while Izuku is just sitting here, useless and weak. 

Worst of all, he’s worried his mom. He knows how she takes blame for things too easily, and feels guilty for putting even more stress on her - stress he caused unnecessarily. 

Why can’t he just do anything right? 

Eventually, his thoughts become too much to handle, so he turns his phone on silent and scrolls mindlessly through hero forums online. It doesn’t do much to distract him, but it’s something. 

Most of the class visits him again after school, and again, blessedly, they don’t push him too much. They must be able to see the tiredness in his eyes. Everything in Izuku feels stretched out and empty and depleted. 

Once they leave, Aizawa and Yagi alternate for the rest of the afternoon. Izuku finds their presence both a blessing and a curse. 

Part of him is grateful for the silent comfort they bring him - both of them careful to not press too much - but he’s also agitated by how exposed he feels. 

Being forced to be in front of people for so long makes Izuku want space and solitude more than anything, but he knows Recovery Girl won’t allow it. He resolves himself to turn his back on them when he grows too frustrated and scrolls on his phone to pass the time. 

The next few days pass in a similar manner. Izuku is visited by teachers, classmates, and his mother, and has time throughout the day to sit and think. 

Everyone that visits is more than willing to provide physical reassurance, which Izuku has strangely found comforting. He’s never been fond of physical touch, with small exceptions from his mother and friends, and generally never initiates any sort of contact. 

(Darkly, he thinks that might be yet another by-product of his sad childhood, when the only contact he ever received was through violence and hatred.) 

But during his stay here, Izuku has found himself reaching out and accepting any sort of physical touch he can get. From Aizawa, it’s a ruffle of his hair or a hand on his arm or shoulder. From Yagi, it’s a squeeze to his hand or a shoulder bump. From his mother, it’s ample hugs - ones that often coincide with tears. From his friends, they tend to all clump together, sitting in close proximity and often clustering together on his bed, limbs draped on top of each other. 

Izuku finds it all strangely comforting. 

Hound Dog comes in once for a brief check-in, and Izuku shortly answers the teacher’s questions, but refuses to offer anything further than that. It all feels so overwhelming, facing his problems so head-on. Hound Dog seems content to let him be, though they schedule appointments biweekly starting next week. It makes Izuku strangely anxious, though he doesn’t protest. 

Even with plentiful amounts of time to himself when he can spiral and overthink to his hearts content, he’s still unable to come up with any solid feeling or thoughts on everything. Is he grateful? Is he angry? Is he upset? 

Everything feels so jumbled and messy - even more so when he has to eat. Recovery Girl insists he eat at least a small amount of the food Lunch Rush brings in three times a day, and every time Izuku is filled with reluctance. Sometimes, he allows himself to savor and enjoy the food, but mostly he feels overfull and pressured by everyone around him to eat it. 

Why the action is so hard, Izuku doesn’t know. It frustrates him that he can’t do such a simple thing so simply anymore. Still, he tries to eat as best he can to help alleviate everyone’s worries, even as he sits in regret for hours after each meal. 

The days pass sluggishly, and Izuku finds himself wanting to be anywhere other than this room. Even though he still feels perpetually exhausted (somehow), it’s less than before, and he desperately wishes to be back in class where he can train and learn just like everyone else. Even with the schoolwork his classmates bring him, it doesn’t feel the same. Recovery Girl tells him he’ll be okay to leave soon, and he finds himself even more antsy with that knowledge. 

During his fourth day in the infirmary, Izuku’s usual group is gathered in the infirmary around his bed. They all sit clustered together, mostly on Izuku’s bed. 

After a long period of chatter, they fall quiet. Izuku steels his nerves and says, “So, uh, I’m sure you all have questions about all… this.” 

They all turn to look at him, curiosity alight in their eyes. They nod. 

Tsuyu taps her chin. “We don’t want to pressure you into saying anything, kero, but we are all worried and would like to know a bit more about what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I blame you for that. I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, then turns to face the wall. As if that will help any of this be easier. “You guys can ask some questions, i-if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Well, maybe he does mind, but he figures that they will learn one way or another and won’t stop pestering him until they do so. Better now than never - like ripping off a band-aid. 

“For starters,” Iida says, pushing his glasses up in clear hesitation, “why did you pass out in the cafeteria?”

Izuku rubs the back of his neck. “Recovery Girl said it’s probably because my blood sugar was too low. I think I stood up too fast and that made me pass out.”

They all nod, though Uraraka looks at him with worry. “Why was your blood sugar so low?” 

He tries desperately to think of a way to say this without causing panic. “I, uh, I…” he trails off, shame coiling in his gut. What will they think? They’ve shown themselves to be nothing but incredible, supportive friends, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they hated him or looked down on him for this. 

Eventually, he settles on the simple truth. “You guys were right, about what you were saying in the cafeteria. Before I passed out, that is.”

They take a second to recall the moment, then they all pale. 

“So you haven’t been eating then, Midoriya?” Todoroki asks. 

Izuku can’t do anything but nod. He turns to look at the wall so he can’t see their faces. He isn’t sure he can stand whatever he might see there.  

Uraraka is the first to respond. She wraps an arm around Izuku’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Huh, he hadn’t been expecting that. 

The others join in, all clumping together in a mass of limbs. Even after the days of relentless tears, it seems he still has more to spare. They well up in his eyes and he can’t seem to force them back down. 

They sit like that in silence for a while before Tsuyu finally pipes up. “Why?”

Isn’t that the question? “I’m not really sure, myself. At first, I was just really stressed and overwhelmed, I think. Then, it just became something I felt like I should do. I… don’t really know. It sounds dumb, and I’m sorry I made you worry about me because of it, and I know-”

“Deku,” Uraraka says, looking him in the eyes. “We aren’t judging you. We’re just… sad for you, I think. But we’re here to help.”

The tears come back with a vengeance. But sitting here, surrounded by his friends, Izuku feels a little bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. 

(Things are far from okay, he knows. But for a moment, he allows himself some hope that maybe things will be, someday.)

Chapter Text

The next day, Recovery Girl informs Izuku that he’ll be allowed to leave after school lets out, to allow him time to settle back in the dorms before returning to classes the following day. 

The thought leaves Izuku brimming with newfound energy; he’s ready to be anywhere but in this room. But it also leaves him nervous. With his closest friends knowing at least a little bit of the situation, he wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the class does too. He has no idea what they will think about him and how they will act. Will they hate him? Pry too far and make him panic? 

Countless scenarios run through his head, making him more and more anxious to leave. 

Soon before he is supposed to leave, there’s a light knock on the door and Yagi pops his head in. “Hello, my boy. Do you mind if I come in?” 

Izuku shakes his head and tries to offer a grin in response. He knows it falls flat, but it’s the best he can do right now. 

Yagi takes his usual seat next to Izuku and asks the same question everyone seems to be asking, nowadays: “How are you doing, my boy?” 

“I’m alright.” This is also the same response he offers a majority of the time. He’s never been one to impose on others, regardless of what he’s feeling, and the last few times he has have been… unusual circumstances. 

And, as per usual, Yagi gives him a knowing look in response. Izuku knows he doesn’t look too much better than he did when he was first admitted. Even with regular meals and a decent amount of sleep (though that too has gotten more restless the longer he’s been here), he still has eyebags and his hair is more of a mess than usual. (The ability to care much for his appearance has diminished as of late. It’s simply too much effort, and it won’t change anything, so why bother?) 

The quirk suppressing bracelets are still around his wrists, too. Recovery Girl has tested out his quirk a few times, but Blackwhip has been acting out even more than usual and she had thought it best to keep the bracelets on until he can get it under better control. 

The stark white of the infirmary only serves to make Izuku look paler, and Recovery Girl insisted on him keeping the IV in his arm until the last possible moment, so… yeah, all in all, he knows he doesn’t look great, and Yagi doesn’t believe his answer because of it. 

“Are you sure, my boy? You know you can talk to me about anything.” Yagi says this with a fond smile that lifts Izuku’s spirits, if only a little. 

What can Izuku even say? That he’s sick and tired of eating so much? That he’s scared to face his own friends? That he has no idea how to continue on with his life? That he feels unworthy of the very power Yagi had given him?

Instead he just shrugs. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” 

Yagi nods and ruffles Izuku’s hair. 

They both sit in silence for a little while. This has been their usual routine, at least since Izuku landed here. Yagi will work on grading or maybe read a book, while Izuku either does his homework or reads hero forums online. It’s comforting to settle into this, before things change yet again. 

As the time to leave draws closer, Izuku finds his anxiety climbing ever higher, and it becomes more difficult to focus on the homework in front of him. 

Yagi must notice this, because he speaks up, “What’s on your mind, my boy?” 

Izuku’s head jolts up. Caught off guard, he stumbles on his words. “Oh, I, uh…” 

What should he say? He trusts Yagi, that much is certain. Before he loses his nerve, Izuku blurts out, “Do you think my classmates will hate me?” 

That makes Yagi pause, clearly not expecting the question. “No, of course not. Why would they?” 

“Because I’m sure they all know about all… this-” he gestures to himself and the room around him “-by now, and it’s really horrible, the reason that I’m in here, and what if they judge me and hate me because of it? I know I’m weak and useless and I don’t know how they’re going to react when I get back to the dorms. And-”

“Woah, my boy, slow down,” Yagi interrupts soothingly. His brows are furrowed with concern, and Izuku regrets his words immediately. He’d said way too much - why had he done that? How could he be so stupid-

“Take a deep breath,” Yagi commands. Izuku does so, trying to focus back on the conversation. “Okay. For one: you are certainly not weak or useless. Everything that you are dealing with is very difficult, and I am personally very proud of you, Young Midoriya.” 

This causes Izuku to freeze. Proud? Proud of what? 

Yagi must see the confusion in his face. “I know it can be… hard to accept help. To reach out, and to want to try to get better. There was a time in my life where I pushed away everyone and got close to giving up, myself. But you - you are trying, my boy. I can see it. You’ve trusted Aizawa and I with this, and Recovery Girl, and your friends. That takes bravery, even if you don’t see it.” 

Izuku sits in stunned silence. What can he even say to that? He certainly hasn’t been brave, but knowing Yagi, the man won’t be able to change his mind, so Izuku leaves that be for now. 

“Okay, but everyone has been so kind to me about all of this, but I don’t know what everyone else will think. It’s like I’m… waiting for the other shoe to fall, I guess.” 

His mentor takes a moment to consider this. “I can understand how you feel, in a way. It’s hard to accept good things, and, as I take it, your life before this wasn’t very easy, was it?” 

He shakes his head mutely. 

“Just because bad things have happened before, doesn’t mean that they always will. Here at UA, I know that your classmates are kind and accepting. I personally will never judge you for what has happened, lately. It simply saddens me to see you going through this, but I will never blame you for it, ever.” 

Izuku can feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He tries to wipe them away, but more keep coming. “But how can you look at me and see anything good? I feel like all I’ve been doing lately is failing. I haven’t been making any progress with One for All, and Blackwhip isn’t even under control anymore.” He holds up his wrists, which still have the quirk suppressing bracelets on them. 

“I can’t talk to my friends without freaking out, and I can’t eat anything without regretting it and feeling like a failure. At this point, how will I ever be able to take out Shigaraki? How can I ever be worthy of One for All - of being your successor?” 

“Look at me, my boy.” Yagi’s voice is hard, and when Izuku turns his head, he can see the determination in his mentor’s look. 

“You have always been worthy to be my successor. You, Midoriya Izuku, are a wonderful, capable, kind, compassionate, hardworking hero. You have already saved so many people, and you will continue to, I know it. You do not have to be the next me - you can be your own hero. One that is smart, and capable, and so much more than I ever was.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to be that hero right now. Because right now, my boy, you are still young, and you are still learning. And even still, with your faults and with your trials, you manage to amaze me every day. 

“I have never, never regretted giving you One for All. You have proven to me, time and time again, that you are the perfect successor for me. And you don’t have to do or be anything more to prove it. You are worthy enough for it simply by your heart.” 

Izuku stares at him in shock. Yagi takes a deep breath, thinks for a moment, then continues, “And it is okay to not be a hero right now. It is okay to need a hero - to need help. I might not have the physical state of All Might anymore, but I am still here for you, as your hero, your mentor, and as someone that cares about you - Midoriya Izuku. Not Deku, the future Pro. I am here for you, my boy, and that won’t ever change.” 

The dam breaks, and a sob makes its way out of Izuku’s throat. Even with all the crying he’s done these past several days, his tears never seem to dry. 

Yagi reaches over and pulls Izuku into a hug. It’s firm yet gentle, and warm, and Izuku allows himself to lean into the man. It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders. The weight isn’t gone, not entirely, but knowing that Yagi is here in all the ways that truly matter, Izuku can allow himself to feel supported and cared for. 

It takes a while for his tears to run dry, but the embrace leaves Izuku feeling warmer and steadier than he has in a long time. 

“Everything will be okay, my boy,” Yagi says as they pull apart. “I’m here.” 

Izuku smiles. It’s weak and broken, but it’s real. 

When Recovery Girl comes in later to ask Izuku if he’s ready to leave, he looks up at her and nods. He’s ready. 

-----------------------

When he enters the dorms, his classmates, blessedly, put up little fuss. They all greet him with smiles, and a few people ask how he is, but otherwise they leave him alone. 

Izuku, already worn out for the day, gives them a small grin and heads up to his room. As he leaves the room, his friends give him soft smiles and nod with understanding. He’s never been more grateful for them than he is now. 

Sleep evades him that night, countless worries and what-if scenarios playing through his head. His classmates have been very understanding thus far, but Izuku isn’t sure how long they can hold out before they start asking questions. 

Thankfully, they treat him mostly the same as they all get ready for school the next morning. Izuku notices his friends watching him out of the corner of his eye as he grabs his breakfast. He wouldn’t be surprised if Recovery Girl or Aizawa “recruited” them to make sure he followed his diet plan, as they are both aware Izuku let them in on his situation. They’re subtle about it, but he’s pretty sure they watch him attentively. 

He sighs, uncomfortable with the attention and the pressure associated with it, but resolutely eats his breakfast and goes to class. 

His friends insist on joining him, and on the way Izuku feels his step become a little lighter as they flow into easy conversation. It’s almost enough to make him forget everything on his mind. Almost. 

Once class starts, Izuku is relieved to find it relatively normal. He had been able to keep up easily enough from his friend’s notes and subsequent homework assignments, but he dedicates himself to paying extra attention during his lessons. 

His classmates give him not-so-subtle looks throughout them, and Izuku finds himself more alert and anxious because of it. A tight knot starts forming in his chest, making it a little harder to breathe, though it isn’t unbearable. He can do this. 

By the time lunch arrives Izuku feels high strung and distracted. 

He knows Recovery Girl gave Lunch Rush his meal plan, and he knows there will be added attention to him because of it. That, combined with the thought of eating what feels like a mountain of food, weighs him down the closer he gets to the cafeteria. 

“Hey, Deku?” Uraraka says, pulling Izuku away from his thoughts. He looks up at her. “Do you want me to grab your lunch for you? I can just bring it back to the table with my own, if you’d like!” Her voice is cheery, but her eyes betray her concern. 

Izuku smiles at her gratefully. “That would be great. Thank you, Uraraka-san.”

She beams at him in response. 

Lunch is less of an ordeal than Izuku expects. His friends all gather clustered together in their table at the side of the room, and they all talk about meaningless things while they eat. When Uraraka sets his plate in front of him, the food feels daunting. 

His stomach twists and his hands shake as he reaches his chopsticks over to grab a bite. Why is this so difficult? he thinks. Just eat the food and everyone will be happy. 

But it won’t make you happy, a voice whispers in the back of his head. He tries his best to ignore it, but every bite he takes makes the voice louder. It’s like his head is screaming at him. How could he be eating this much when he’d already had a full breakfast? He’s not even hungry, so why should he eat? Why does it matter; why does he matter? 

Consumed by his thoughts, he tunes out conversation around him and misses the worried looks his friends give him. 

He startles, hard, when a hand touches his arm lightly.  “Midoriya-chan,” Tsuyu says, eyes concerned, “are you okay?” 

Izuku tries to swallow the lump in his throat and nods. The back of his neck is burning. 

“It’s okay if you can’t eat it all, Midoriya,” Todoroki says. “Just eat what you can - we won’t judge you.” 

Izuku’s eyes are suddenly watery. He ducks his head and rubs them in a futile effort to get them to stop. “S-sorry,” he says, still not looking up. He’s sorry for so many things. Why are they even putting up with him? Why are they here? 

After a few minutes Izuku picks his chopsticks back up and tries to eat a little more. He can only get down 2 more bites before everything in him protests harshly. Frustration and shame rise heavy in his gut and he abruptly stands up, saying something about using the bathroom. Instead, he rushes off to the hidden classroom he found a while back. 

Double-checking nobody followed him, he closes the door behind him and shoves himself into the smallest space he can, tucking his body in tight. His nails dig crescents in his hands. Why can’t he just eat right? Why is everyone paying so much attention to him? 

It’s all too much, and he loses himself there until the end of lunch. 

When he returns to the classroom he’s suddenly exhausted and tries to ignore the worried look in everyone’s eyes. 

Afternoon classes pass in a blur, and Izuku finds himself sitting in the gym next to Aizawa while his classmates warm up for today’s hero training lesson. 

“You doing okay, kid?” Aizawa asks. 

Izuku nods his head mutely. He can’t muster up the energy to say or do anything else to appease the man, even though he knows it won’t help his case. 

Will Aizawa insist he go back to Recovery Girl? Sure, Izuku will be visiting her after school, but he doesn’t want to go back to staying there for days. And what about training? How long will his teacher keep him benched for? The bracelets on Izuku’s wrists suddenly feel heavier, colder. 

Anxiety rises in a rush. “I’m okay, sensei,” he says belatedly.

Aizawa glances at him and Izuku can see the veiled concern in his gaze. “It’s okay if you’re not, Midoriya. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Tears threaten to rise to the surface yet again. Izuku turns his head and blinks them away. Wow, he really is a mess today, isn’t he? He has no idea how to sort through the emotions warring in him, so he tries to ignore them and focus on today’s training. 

Distractions come easily and Izuku loses himself to his thoughts more than he’d like to admit. Still, he’s able to give passable analysis to Aizawa and the rest of the day goes by quickly. 

After class is dismissed Aizawa brings Izuku to Recovery Girl’s office. They sit as she instructs. 

“So, dearie, how are you doing?” 

Izuku stops, unsure how to gather his thoughts and report without being too worrying. Aizawa shifts beside him. “If you don’t want me to be here, I can leave, kid. Whatever makes you more comfortable.” 

Though Izuku is thankful for the sentiment, he shakes his head. “No, you can stay. I’ve been okay, Recovery Girl.” 

She frowns at him, clearly not convinced. “How was your first day back in classes?”

”It was… actually pretty normal. It was nice to be around everyone again, I guess.” He chooses not to mention the less than normal things. Why would they need to know?

“His classmates said he didn’t eat all of his lunch today, but he did eat breakfast,” Aizawa says. 

When had they told him that? Izuku tries not to feel betrayed - he expected this, after all. He can’t help the twinge of frustration that rises at the knowledge, though. 

Recovery Girl hums, looking at Izuku with an unreadable expression. “Well, I suppose that’s to be expected. It’s okay if you sometimes can’t eat everything, but I want you to try your best, okay?” 

He nods, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“Keep me updated on how the diet plan is working, and if we need to, we can make adjustments. We don’t want to push you too far, but you absolutely cannot be skipping like you used to, do you hear me?” Izuku nods yet again. She sighs wearily, and Izuku suddenly feels bad for all the work he’s been making her do. 

“S-sorry, Recovery Girl. I’ll try.” 

She gives him a soft smile in response. 

“Don’t apologize. We know this isn’t easy, but we can’t help you if you don’t let us,” Aizawa says, not unkindly. 

They continue on with the check-up. Recovery Girl checks his weight - which he’s not allowed to see, for some reason - and his vitals. She has him take off the quirk suppressing bracelets and watch as Blackwhip rises and twitches in the air. It feels more unsteady than it has before, and the quirk lashes out multiple times beyond Izuku’s control. 

Aizawa is able to use his quirk before they place the bracelets back on. Despite Aizawa’s reassurances, he still feels embarrassed and frustrated at his newfound lack of control. Why won’t the quirk just work with him, for once? 

He’s instructed to keep the bracelets on until they can work on his quirk control more.

They go over his diet and make his next appointment with Hound Dog, something Izuku dreads, but he knows if he refuses he’ll just be causing more trouble for anyone else. 

Soon enough Recovery Girl lets him go, with a stern yet gentle reminder to take care of himself. Izuku nods and follows Aizawa back to the dorms, where he immediately rushes back to his room. Being around everyone else is just… too much, right now. 

His chest feels tight the rest of the night, especially when he goes to eat with the rest of the class. Even though nobody says anything, Izuku can feel their stares and unspoken questions. He doesn’t have it in him to speak up or answer anything, so he mostly stays silent. 

The rest of the week passes in a similar manner. He tries his best to be present and cheerful, but it feels forced and is almost too much effort for it to be worth it. 

His classmates are careful not to push, but he knows he’s pushing his luck with it. Even after Uraraka assures him the rest of the class doesn’t know, it doesn’t make him feel any better. Instead, it adds a weight - he’ll have to confront them, eventually. Still, they remain kind and understanding. 

Izuku visits Recovery Girl with either Aizawa or Yagi every day, and she’s displeased to hear that he has trouble eating most meals. He’s been trying - really he has. But somehow, the idea of eating what he knows are reasonable amounts feels much harder than it should. He’s been trying to force his way through each meal, but even when he eats it all, it does nothing but weigh him down, his thoughts consuming him. 

It’s a miracle, he’s still keeping up with classes, to be honest. Most nights he doesn’t have the energy to do much homework, and his mind wanders more than it focuses during lessons. 

By the end of the week Izuku feels high strung and exhausted. On their way to Recovery Girl’s office, Aizawa says, “Would you like to go home this weekend?”

That startles Izuku out of his reverie. “What?” 

“I know this week has been hard, and I’ve been speaking with Nezu and Recovery Girl. We all think it would be a good idea for you to be in a more comfortable, familiar environment. I’ve already cleared the paperwork with Nezu and your mother knows you might be coming. Do you want to go?” 

Izuku thinks for a moment. It would be nice to be home with his mom, after the week he’s had. But will it just add to both of their stress? Is it worth it? 

After a moment, Izuku decides it is. To be away from his classmates and the dorms and the pressure would be a welcome relief. 

“Yeah, I’d like to go. Thank you, sensei,” Izuku says. 

Aizawa gives him a rare smile and ruffles his hair. 

They continue the rest of the walk in comfortable silence.

------------------------

Inko mentally prepares herself for anything as she hears Izuku step through the door. She had been around while things had been getting worse for him, even though it was only sometimes. She was there when he was in the infirmary. She will do anything to be there for him. He’s coming back because he needs a change of pace, she knows, so anything is possible. And she will be there for him through it all. 

He steps through the door and she greets him with a smile, sweeping over him with her eyes. Though he looks slightly less frail than before, he still isn’t back to his healthy weight. The dark shadows under his eyes have barely eased up, and his eyes are still dim. He tries for a smile, but Inko can tell it's forced and fake. 

“Welcome home, Izuku,” she says, holding out her arms for a hug. He obediently steps forwards and she wraps him in her arms. 

She’s always been thankful he never had much of a rebellious phase, and they still remain close. Though he hadn’t initially confided in her about what was going on, he knows he trusts her, and that’s really all she can ask. 

They stay there for a long moment, and Inko is content to let Izuku stay there as long as he needs it. 

When he pulls away, he wipes off his eyes in typically Midoriya fashion and Inko shoos him to the couch while she finishes preparing dinner. School ended just a few hours ago, which means that Izuku is here to stay for the entirety of the weekend. They haven’t had a weekend to themselves in a long while, she thinks, and resolves to have him over more often. 

For now, though, she needs to take care of her son. 

Recovery Girl had sent Inko Izuku’s new diet plan, and she was pleased to find that katsudon fit into it. She knows it’s Izuku’s favorite, and she’s hoping that it will do something to lighten his spirits. 

She sets the katsudon on the table and calls Izuku over. He trudges over lethargically and Inko can’t help but wonder if he’s been sleeping enough lately. 

They begin the meal and Inko keeps a close but subtle watch over Izuku. He picks at the food more than he eats it, and something in his eyes is distant and hazy. Distracted. It hurts Inko’s heart to see such a look on her son. 

She doesn’t say anything, though. According to her late-night anxiety reading sessions, she has learned that it doesn’t help to put stress or pressure on those struggling with eating. So she remains quiet and watches him, knowing she will report anything of concern to Recovery Girl, as they’d agreed on before he came. 

He stops eating the food after he’s finished about half of it, Inko notices. They haven’t talked much and the silence turns slightly awkward. 

She isn’t quite sure what to say. If she asks how this week was, it might bring up bad things, and he doesn’t look in the mood to socialize. Her heart aches at the thought, then gets weighed down by her own uselessness. Why is he here if she can’t do anything to make it better? 

Stop that, she tells herself. It does no good to be hard on yourself. Be there for him. Be comforting and safe. That’s what he needs. 

After a few minutes of picking at their food, Inko stands up and clears his plate. Izuku looks up at her, confused. 

“What is it, Izuku?” she asks. 

“Why did you take my plate? I didn’t finish.” He looks down guiltily at that. 

She offers him a kind smile. “You don’t have to eat all of it. I gave you a big plate, anyways, and I’m just glad you had as much as you did.” 

“But… are you going to tell Recovery Girl?” 

Inko sighs internally. He’s always been one to worry about inconveniencing others; he gets it from her, she supposes. “No, I think you ate enough. I’ll be honest though: I will tell her if there’s anything too concerning. That doesn’t mean you hide things from me, okay? We’re all just here to help you.” 

She knows the statement has been said to him many times, but the words still appear to shock him. She steps up to him and bends down to give him a hug, then heads back to deal with the leftovers. 

After that, they simply sit companionably as they watch an old hero movie Izuku used to love. It’s refreshing to have Izuku back with her. She won’t deny that she’s been rather lonely without him, and even worrying as much as she is, she is grateful to have him here with her. 

As the movie progresses Inko notices Izuku’s eyes unfocusing, lost in thought. She touches his arm lightly and gestures toward her lap, where she puts a pillow. 

It takes him a moment to figure out what she’s wordlessly saying, but then he moves and lays his head down on the pillow. Just like he used to do when he was younger. She follows her part, stroking through his wild - and somehow soft - curls in a practiced motion. 

He melts slightly under the touch, like always. Inko can finally see and feel the tension leave him, and within a few minutes, he’s fast asleep. 

She watches him instead of the movie. He looks so soft, so child-like, when he’s asleep. She desperately hopes he can return back to himself soon. 

But, even if he doesn’t, she’ll be here for him. Her hand reaches up to brush away the tears that form in her eyes. 

Despite the gloomy circumstances, she finds herself relishing in the peacefulness of the moment, content to simply sit with her son. As long as it takes.