Chapter Text
Sooner than Izuku expected, October was at its end.
Tomorrow was the big Halloween event that U.A. put on, and though he tried to match the energy of everyone around him, Izuku wasn’t all that excited. He was more tired than anything, the mirror in his dorm bathroom revealing the truth to him every morning as he got ready for class. The biggest telltale was the dull green stare leveled back at him overtop indigo brushed color. It was kind of foolish on his part, for how observant he was as a person, to believe that he could go back to the normal grind and not stumble– or in his case, fall flat on your face.
His friends noticed, of course, they just tried not to make it obvious. Like Todoroki had said, nobody wanted to corner him about it. They waited, careful and patient, for him to open up on his own, to decide when he was ready to talk about whatever had cracked open inside him.
Izuku didn’t think he ever would, lest he burst into unending tears.
As the weeks dragged on, though, the worry started to show.
They began to hover, to ask softly if he was okay, if he needed to go to see Recovery Girl, etc…
Aoyama had been the worst about it, if “worst” meant relentless in his kindness. Mountains upon mountains of cheese would always appear no matter how many times he tried to refuse. Little foil-wrapped treats slipped into his bag. Dramatic sparkles and whispers of, “For your shining soul, mon ami.”
It should’ve helped.
The hallway on his way to his homeroom was already busy when he arrived, some students rushing to their morning lessons, some idly gossiping. Izuku hardly noticed any of it, walking on autopilot, bag slung heavily over his shoulders and his arms crossed over his notebook.
“Is that him? The kid that All Might took in?”
“Yeah, the plain looking one.”
“Plain? He looks awful. You’d think being All Might’s favorite would mean he’d at least try to look presentable.”
“Guess being the Symbol of Peace’s favorite means you don’t actually have to try.”
“More like the Symbol of Peace’s charity case. I heard that U.A. forced him onto the guy, poor All Might.”
They laughed as they passed him.
Izuku kept his eyes straight ahead as if he hadn’t heard them, but the words clung to him all the same. When their voices finally faded down the hall, he found himself hunching forward slightly, grip tightening around his notebook as he pressed it to his chest, making himself smaller. The urge to suddenly manifest an invisibility quirk like Higakure was intense, or maybe the ability to melt into the floor and disappear like Mirio.
Usually, things like that wouldn’t get to him. Class 1-A often had a lot of gossip spread about them, but it was just stupid or untrue things that didn’t really matter. But right now, he was just so tired. It was like every insult that used to bounce off him now slid right through the cracks, the walls he’d built worn thin and made of glass that was fracturing slowly as the week droned on.
Izuku shivered just thinking about how he had felt all weekend.
On the brightside, he got all his make-up homework done!
‘Then proceeded to crash out a little over his lack of halloween costume…’ Izuku thought to himself and his mood soured even more. They were kind of right actually, he really was kind of a charity case.
All Might had been texting him every so often over the past week and a half. Most of it consisted of “Goodmorning, young Midoriya!” and “How was your day?”,which would devolve into updates about the goings on with the guardian paperwork and his mother’s case.
It wasn’t that All Might was being overbearing. If anything, his messages made Izuku feel cared for. But still… he hadn’t really been answering back with the same enthusiasm as usual. He wasn’t sure why he felt so withdrawn. All Might had seen him at his absolute lowest, worst moments. Covered in blood, covered and stinking of trash, covered in snot and tears.
So why was he avoiding him now?
It was stupid, he knew it was stupid. But those second-year students’ words kept echoing in his head, and he couldn’t completely shake them off. He was a mess right now. And if everyone saw that, then they probably saw it as a reflection onto All Might too. It wasn’t just some teacher dealing with a difficult student like Aizawa had to do, it was All Might having to serve as a parental figure and Izuku was the disaster everyone thought got dumped on him out of pity. He didn’t want to embarrass All Might just because he was a mess, especially now that everyone was talking about it.
‘News spread too fast at this school sometimes…,’ he huffed internally.
Not that he was actively avoiding him. From what Izuku had heard, half from All Might himself and half from word of mouth, he’d been reassigned for a while to help the third years with their final practicals. It made sense he’d be busy after missing an entire week of work, but it also meant Izuku hadn’t actually seen him in over a week.
And somehow that felt worse, because he really did miss him.
Izuku spent most of homeroom pretending to take notes while his brain floated somewhere between half-asleep and half-anxious. He caught maybe three words of Aizawa’s lecture about patrol rotations, but they scattered as soon as he tried to write them down. By the time the bell rang, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard anything at all.
Chairs scraped, notebooks snapped shut, conversations started up again. Iida clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder and said something about meeting him in the next class, and Uraraka nodded in agreement, offering him a small smile as she walked to the door.
Izuku rose from his chair, and was just about to follow them when Aizawa’s voice stopped him.
“Midoriya, stay back a moment.”
Izuku froze halfway to the door and turned around, his friends also pausing to look worriedly between their teacher and him. Aizawa was still packing up with his usual slow efficiency, tired eyes flicking up to meet Izuku’s when he didn’t answer. Izuku waved his friends on their way, and walked back over to his teacher’s podium. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Aizawa?”
“You’re burning yourself out,” Aizawa said simply.
Izuku blinked, thrown off.
“You’ve been distracted lately. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and you feel like you’re falling behind, but pushing yourself like this isn’t going to make things better.”
Izuku’s throat went dry. “I’m fine, really. I just–”
“I’m not saying this to criticize you,” Aizawa interrupted, his soft tone surprising Izuku, rarely having heard it from the man. “I’m saying this because I want you to know I’m not putting expectations on you to get everything done right now, nobody is, not even Nedzu. If you need time off, take it.”
He nodded quickly, hoping that if he seemed enthusiastic enough Aizawa would drop it, as much as it warmed his heart how much the older man cared. “Thank you, Mr. Aizawa. I’ll try.”
Aizawa shot him a subtle look of disappointment and sorrow, but didn’t push any further. “Good, now get to your next class.”
He slipped into Present Mic’s classroom as quietly as possible, clutching his bag to his chest. Present Mic looked up from the front of the room, mid-sentence, and all eyes of Class 1-A turned to look at him.
“Hey little-listener,” Mic greeted, and just gave a small grimace of a smile, then motioned with his head for him to sit.
Izuku mumbled a hello back and slid into his spot.
Present Mic started passing back the stack of graded essays, and the room immediately filled with the usual mix of groans and some cheering. He heard Mineta behind him brag about getting an A-, and in front of him Kaachan was silent as he glared at his own page. Izuku stayed quiet, stomach tight as he waited for his paper to land on his desk.
When it finally did, he flipped it over slowly.
70%. Barely passing.
His heart sank. Izuku had a feeling he hadn’t done well, his brain had been all over the place that first week, but seeing the number in red ink still stung. He really wanted, needed, to do good at English. How could he claim “Delaware Smash!” if he didn’t know how to spell Delaware? How could he go to college in America or intern at an American agency if he couldn’t keep up? It had always been a dream to live there and experience what All Might experienced in his young age.
He scanned the margins where Present Mic had scribbled comments in his usual messy handwriting. “Watch tense shifts!” “You got this, little listener!” “Work on transitions!!” Each exclamation mark felt less like genuine enthusiasm and more like an attempt to soften the blow.
Izuku sighed quietly and tried to convince himself that passing was enough. He wasn’t failing.
Oh, did that mantra feel short lived after he got his math assignments back later that day…
Midoriya didn’t go back to the dorms after class.
He told himself he was just walking off the restlessness, just burning off the leftover energy that sat wrong under his skin, but his feet carried him straight toward the training gym anyway. The hallways thinned as he moved farther from the main building, the chatter fading. The closer he got, the lighter his head felt even if it was also clamping down on him from forcing back the tears.
He was halfway down the corridor when a hand latched around the back of his uniform.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bakugou snapped.
Izuku flinched, swaying slightly when he stopped too fast. “I was just–”
“Gym,” Bakugou said flatly. “I know.”
Izuku tried to turn, to pull free, but the motion made his vision blur at the edges. Black flecks dotted the corners of his sight, and for a split second he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Sighing through his nose, Izuku turned slowly to glare at Bakugo. “If you already knew, then why did you ask–,” Izuku muttered out. He was almost surprised at himself for expressing irritation at Kaachan, but right now his childhood friend caught him on his last nerve.
“Don’t fight me,” he said, softening his tone a little. “You’re gonna fall over.”
“I’m fine,” Izuku mumbled automatically, but even he heard how thin it sounded.
Bakugou didn’t argue. He just shifted his grip, moved from grabbing fabric near his neck to gripping Izuku’s wrist, warm and steady and impossible to ignore. “We’re going to the dorms,” he stated, leaving no room for protest as he turned on his heel to drag Izuku back.
Izuku yanked his wrist from Bakugo’s, backfoot shifting slightly to catch himself from falling from another dizzy spell. “I don’t want to,” Izuku snapped, glaring at the other once his vision righted, “what is wrong with you?!”
Katsuki stopped walking, turning around to glare at the other teen, a hint of surprise on his face. “Why the hell not?”
Izuku gritted his teeth. He looked down at his own hand where Kaachan’s had grabbed instead of meeting Katsuki’s eyes. There’s no point, he wanted to say. Izuku really wanted to just scream it until one of his classmates started listening. Why couldn’t his classmates, Mr. Aizawa, everyone just let him be, especially Kaachan?
Katsuki stared at him for a long moment, eyes scanning the other’s red face, trying to read him. “If you’re gonna be a baby about it, then fine. You can lay down next to me on the couch and sleep while I get my homework done,” he replied, grabbing Izuku’s wrist again, gentler this time and resuming their trek. Izuku blinked, but didn’t dig his heels in. “What?”
“I know I’m the last person you want to be around right now, so I’m sorry it has to be this way, but someone has to put their foot down! You are gonna get yourself hurt. It’s a complete fucking mystery to me why All Might hasn’t already,” Bakugo ground out, mumbling the last part and Izuku didn’t catch it over the ringing of his ears.
The common room was quiet when they arrived, couches empty. Katsuki tossed his notebook and pencil onto the farthest couch, then pointed at the cushions like he was ordering a dog to sit. “Lay down,” he said. Izuku sighed, but obeyed knowing that there was no getting out of it, easing onto his side. He felt stupid for how grateful he was just to not be alone, the tension from earlier easing out of him and being replaced with immediate exhaustion. Katsuki sat beside him on the floor, flipping his notebook open. “And don’t snore,” Katsuki added without looking up.
Izuku managed a tiny smile from amusement, cracking an eye open from where they had already shut. “I don’t snore.”
“Good. Keep it that way or I’m gonna be mad.” He didn’t mean it cruelly. In fact, there was something weirdly gentle under all the sharp edges. Izuku let his eyes drift back shut, breathing in slow, careful pulls of air to remedy his swimming head. The couch cushions dipped slightly as Katsuki shifted, and without thinking of the repercussions, Izuku’s hand slid forward, fingers brushing, then resting lightly on Bakugo’s forearm.
Katsuki froze for half a second. Then he huffed, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “whatever,” and went right back to his homework. Izuku’s breathing evened out. His body finally relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, sleep came quickly.
And when it came, it was kind.
In his dreams, Izuku was lying down much like he was in the real world. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the usual darkness, the usual echo of the accident waiting for him.
Instead, his palm glowed.
A bright orange star sat nestled in his hand, warm and soft and pulsing like a heartbeat. Familiar in a way that made something inside him unclench. Izuku’s breath hitched with quiet joy. He curled his fingers around the star, holding it close.
And for the rest of the night, he slept peacefully.
Toshinori was officially Izuku Midoriya’s legal guardian.
The whole process had been difficult, but the reward was well worth the effort.
He hadn’t seen much of the boy since their first day back at U.A., since he had turned that corner. That just seemed to be the way of their relationship, they would see each other a lot for a few weeks, then they would be pulled into other responsibilities.
He hoped Izuku didn’t think he was avoiding him. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t wanted to see him, he just didn’t want to intrude. Izuku needed rest, and Toshinori knew what exhaustion looked like on him. He’d seen it in the shadows under his eyes the last few times they’d spoken, in the way his shoulders hunched a little lower every day. The boy didn’t need a hovering adult knocking on his door at all hours of the night asking if he’d eaten or slept, trying to be his dad…
He recalled what Gran said, but he just couldn’t bring himself to intrude in any way. He wasn’t the kid’s dad, and he didn’t want to complicate this anymore than it was already. Midoriya needed to process Hisashi’s desertion.
Besides, the staff door was always open. If Izuku wanted to see him, he could drop by anytime.
Toshinori tried to focus on the positive as he sat at his desk, grading with a sort of bored detachment. His brows cast a dark shadow over his eyes, pen idly scratching against the paper. Outside, the late afternoon sun was already starting to dip below the horizon, a sign of winter's swift approach.
Two raps at the door broke the quiet.
“Yoohoo~!”
Present Mic’s voice cut through the quiet like a cymbal crash. Toshinori looked up, startled, while Aizawa didn’t seem phased one bit.
“Ah, Yamada,” Toshinori greeted, smiling politely. “Good afternoon.”
Mic stepped inside, hands shoved into his pockets in a relaxed expression. “Afternoon, All Mighty! Hey, Sho.”
Aizawa raised one lazy hand in greeting without opening his eyes.
Mic lingered by Toshinori’s desk, shifting on his feet nervously. “Got a sec? It’s about your kid.”
Toshinori’s brain halted at the words your kid.
He’d only signed the guardianship documents earlier in the morning. He’d expected everyone at U.A. to treat the change cautiously, maybe even whisper behind his back about whether he was suitable for it but at least when it came to the other teachers, they accepted it easily. ‘Maybe a little too easily,’ the One for All part of his brain echoed, filling him with a tingling dread.
Still, he caught himself smiling before he could stop it, a small, dazed smile he tried to smooth away too late. “My kid?”
Mic smirked. “What, you want me to start calling Midoriya your ward instead? Because that sounds way more dramatic.”
Aizawa groaned from the couch. “You came in here for a reason, Hizashi. Get to it.”
“Oh, right, yeah!” Mic rubbed the back of his neck, expression slipping into something a little more serious. “So, about Midoriya. I’m a little worried about the kid. His English essay was bad. Like, really bad. He usually performs a lot better, especially on essays!”
Toshinori’s brows lifted slightly in question, the easy humor draining from his face. “Bad?”
Mic nodded, grimacing. “I couldn’t bring myself to fail him knowing all he’s going through right now. He looked pale the whole class, hell the whole week! Like he hadn’t slept in days and that’s saying something, because these kids never sleep.”
Toshinori frowned as he looked away from Mic and back down at the pen he had forgotten in his hand in thought.
He’d expected Izuku to be tired after coming back to school, which was exactly why he thought the boy would be resting as much as he could. In all their exchanged texts, Izuku wished him goodnight and assured him he was doing fine. Part of him had been relieved when Izuku didn’t stop by the staff lounge for the past week and a half. He told himself that meant the boy was taking good care of himself, enough so that he didn’t need to confide in Toshinori– or that maybe he was spending time with friends during this difficult stretch. Toshinori didn’t want to smother him.
But what if Izuku had been struggling the entire time, and Toshinori had simply failed to notice?
Toshinori had thought it was a little soon for Izuku to dive back into school, but he hadn’t wanted the boy stuck in his apartment alone all day while he worked either. This pressure Izuku was putting on himself was probably just that– the fear of falling behind. The instinctive need to prove he wasn’t “useless,” a word the boy had used to describe himself far more often than Toshinori was comfortable hearing.
Deep inside, something painful stirred. Why hadn’t Izuku told him he was struggling; especially after their last long talk, when Toshinori had made it clear he was there for him, ready to listen to every burden?
He didn’t show it outwardly, but the hurt pulsed through him with every quiet beat of his heart.
Ectoplasm, who’d been at the next desk quietly typing out notes, paused and turned to face the two other heroes who looked at him in turn. “I’d have to agree with Yamada, Midoriya needs some help. He failed his last math assignments, the ones he missed while he was gone,” he said, tone apologetic but firm. “I gave him partial credit where I could, but the answers were just wrong. It’s not as subjective, unfortunately.”
Mic turned his gaze back towards All Might. “See? The kid’s running himself into the ground and I don’t know what to do!”
Aizawa opened one eye from his spot on the couch. “I already told him to slow down this morning. Not sure he heard me,” his inflection suggesting he heard just fine, but didn’t really listen.
Toshinori’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I see…”
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up from his desk. His neck protested from having been hunched over paperwork for too long. He ignored it, smoothing his expression into something that resembled calm and offering Present Mic a grateful smile.
“Thank you, all of you– for bringing this to my attention. I’ll… be sure to check on him.”
The room settled into a brief, understanding quiet. Toshinori gathered his papers, stacking them absentmindedly. His mind was already somewhere else, already halfway down the hallway, already searching for a green mop of curls.
He’d go find him, finally face to face, before it got any worse.
Toshinori reached the dorms just in time to hopefully run into Midoriya before the kid ate dinner, earlier that morning thinking about inviting the other for some ramen as a small celebration once he shared the news. Maybe the kid just needed a night away from U.A., away from all the hero work.
He really hoped Izuku was there.
As he stepped into the common room he froze, blinking to make sure he was seeing correctly.
On one of the common couches, Izuku was fast asleep, curled on his side, breathing soft and even as if he was completely at peace. His hand rested lightly on Bakugou’s forearm, who was sitting on the floor, back against the couch and reading a textbook in his lap. He looked up sharply when Toshinori walked in.
They stared at each other in a moment of mutual surprise.
Then Bakugo addressed him in a low voice, “Don’t wake him up.”
Toshinori’s heart softened instantly. He nodded, matching the student-hero's tone. “Of course not.”
He took in the scene again. Izuku still had dark circles under his eyes, as well as an overall dishevelled look, but his lips held a soft smile that instantly made him feel more relieved.
Bakugo, on the other hand, looked like he was holding up the entire world on his tense shoulders, his eyes sharp as he glared at the retired pro. While the boy didn’t look as bad as Izuku, the blonde had his own weariness about him. His usual spark was muted like he too had been pushing himself too far. All Might felt his throat bob as he forced back the raw emotion that clawed at his throat. These young heroes… he sometimes forgot just how young they were and how they had too much burden on their shoulders.
Toshinori approached slowly. “May I… sit?”
Bakugo shrugged and looked back down at his textbook. “It’s your common room too, old man.”
Toshinori sat on the couch across from them. For a moment, the only sound was the scratch of Bakugo’s pencil as he forced himself back into pretending to work.
Eventually, Toshinori murmured, “Thank you, young Bakugo.”
The blonde stiffened. “For what?”
“For being there for him.”
Bakugo scoffed, flipping a page aggressively. “He was being an idiot.”
Toshinori smiled faintly. “Young Midoriya…,” Toshinori trailed off, trying to find not so colorful language to describe it, “certainly has a knack for pushing himself too far.”
Bakugo shot him a look. “That’s for damn sure.” His voice dipped lower at the end, rough around the edges. “He’s not doing good. I guess you already know that.”
Toshinori felt that land somewhere deep, painful and true. “Yes, I know he is struggling,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize how much.”
Bakugo paused for a moment, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. “Actually… since you’re here, there’s something I need to say.” Bakugo wasn’t looking at him, he was staring straight ahead, pencil tapping a stuttering rhythm against his homework, jaw clenched tight. “I’m a little pissed at you,” Bakugo said plainly.
Surprise must’ve registered on his face, because Bakugo snorted. “Don’t look so shocked. You’re the one who said you wanted to adopt him or whatever it's called. You’re the one who said you wanted to take care of him while he gets through this. You say that, and then you’re barely around for an entire week.”
Toshinori felt the words land like a weight against his sternum. Deserved.
He opened his mouth to apologize, to ask if Izuku had told Bakugo that’s how he felt.
“But–” Bakugo’s voice cracked the slightest bit. “I haven’t… been great either. So don’t go thinking you’re the only one screwing up and I don’t need an apology.”
Bakugo looked back at Izuku again, eyes softened in a way he probably didn’t realize anyone could see so clearly. “As you could clearly tell at the funeral, my mom is best friends with his mom, has been since before we were born.” His expression twisted, anger and guilt morphing into something almost like grief. “She always treated me like family, and in turn I treated Deku like–”
Bakugo let out an angry breath as he couldn’t finish that statement. “I regret it, a lot.”
Toshinori swallowed, throat tight. He had never heard Bakugo speak about Inko like this, let alone Midoriya. Never heard him speak about anything like this. It made sense now, and it made Toshinori realize just how much he messed up. There was another student here who also lost someone important to them, even if it wasn’t the same, he could see the same guilt eating away at Bakugo as it did Midoriya.
As for what he meant by the way he treated Midoriya, that seemed like an issue best brought up at a different time.
“I have a sense that she still cared about you very much,” Toshinori said quietly. “Until the end.”
Bakugo’s jaw clenched. “Yeah…, I know.”
Izuku woke up with a bit of a crick in his neck, but feeling overall more well rested than he’s felt in a long time. There was a hand gently poking his cheek to rouse him and when he opened his eyes, he came face to face with a familiar smile.
“Good morning, young Midoriya.”
Toshinori came into focus, crouched beside the couch with a sort of melancholy smile, but sweet none the less. Izuku’s heart leapt at his mentor’s returned presence, and he pushed himself up quickly in surprise. “A-All Might!”
“Did you sleep well?” Toshinori asked him. His mentor was kneeling next to the couch where Kaachan sat earlier, resting back against his ankles, dressed casually in a light blue polo and khakis. His thoughts became wistful at the familiarity of his presence returning. Two weeks shouldn’t have felt this long.
Izuku hesitated for a beat, thinking about how he hadn’t had a nightmare last night, hand brushing through his hair. That place… the weird dream again. “Yeah,” he answered honestly.
Toshinori’s smile turned a bit more neutral. There was something thoughtful in his expression, like he was lost in deep thought. He didn’t comment on where Izuku had fallen asleep or on the blond teenager snoring softly on the other end of the couch. Then his smile softened again, but this time it wasn’t dipped in sadness. Toshinori straightened slowly, joints popping loudly as he stood. “Alright, go have breakfast with your classmates,” he said. “Then go get changed.”
“Oh, okay. Did you want to train this morning?”
Toshinori shook his head. “Not today, my boy.”
Izuku stared at him. “Huh?”
“I’m pulling you out of classes for the day.”
“W-What? Why?”
“Because you need a break. And I would very much like to spend the day with you before we return tonight for the Halloween party,” he replied, emphasizing the fact that the Halloween party was today in case Izuku forgot, which he a hundred percent did. “I haven’t seen you since Monday of last week.”
“I, um… Are you sure it’s okay if I skip? I promised I would help Mina and the others with the Halloween decorations. They’re probably counting on me since I wasn’t much help yesterday and–”
“You kidding me, Deku?” Mina’s voice cut through his from the hallway before he could finish. She rounded the corner carrying an armful of paper bats and glitter tape, eyes sparkling. “We’ve got it totally covered! You already did so much yesterday, so go have fun with All Might!” she insisted, waving him off dramatically. “We’ll make these decorations spooky enough to raise the dead. You won’t even recognize the place when you get back.”
Izuku blinked helplessly at her when she winked at him, then slowly turned back toward Toshinori, who only shrugged playfully, mouth quirked in a smile that was half encouragement, half amusement. “Seems like you're free to go.”
Izuku couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips. All Might extended a hand toward Izuku, offering help to stand. Placing his hand in his, he stood up. “Make sure to wear something warm, it's a bit chilly today. And text me when you’re ready.”
All Might was already stepping back as Izuku nodded, the distance between them re-forming as naturally as it always did. “I will,” he replied. All Might gave a short wave at his fellow classmates who were starting to trickle into the common room, and then he was gone. Izuku stood there for a moment after, lost in his own head yet again.
Izuku looked back at Kaachan who was still sleeping soundly, heart soft and light in the strangest way. His relationship with Kaachan had changed since middle school, their rivalry becoming something… tamer. The same happened with his relationship with All Might, and all of this only happened recently. However, without the anchor of his moms presence, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to navigate all of it.
It was easy to imagine life the way it used to be, to long for it wholeheartedly, and Izuku certainly did.