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Midoriya Izuku has never been one to hide his feelings. In fact, he’s rather the opposite, and it shows in the careful way he helps old men cross the streets and it shows in the helpful tips he so generously offers to anyone he works with.
But most of all, it shows in the way that he cries at the drop of a hat.
Izuku has never been one to hide his feelings, and that’s why it’s so baffling to Shouta.
The battle, by all accounts, was a mess. Thirteen civilians wounded, five dead, and seven missing. Nearly every Pro Hero that fought ended up in the hospital, Izuku’s close friends included.
Hell, Shouta himself is watching his speech from a portable stretcher.
The League started a fight and by all means, they won.
And yet Izuku faces the reporters with a face of stone. His face is an impenetrable shield, and even the blood-thirstiest of reporters are hesitant with their questions.
“Deku, how did the battle get so out of hand? Weren’t the pros supposed to be on guard?” At last, someone speaks up, and every eye swivels to them.
Yamamoto Miyazaki, a thirty-something reporter with a chip in their shoulder and a bad attitude that rivals Shouta’s own. They’re the bravest of the reporters, but not by much.
Shouta can recall several occasions where a piece of debris would fly too close to them and they’d leap out of the way, usually into oncoming traffic. It’s rather obnoxious, in Shouta’s humble opinion.
He scoffs and swivels back to Izuku, eager to see what impassioned response he’ll have for this reporter.
Izuku’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, after all.
The speech Shouta expects never comes, and Izuku instead bows his head. “I understand that we should’ve done more, but I assure you, Yamamoto-san, we did everything in our power to keep civilians safe.”
Yamamoto rolls their eyes, gaining confidence, and strides towards the stage. “If you couldn’t keep twenty five people safe from a gang of rebellious teenagers, how can we trust you to keep Musutafu safe at all? How can we trust you with Japan’s safety?” They thrust their microphone in Izuku’s face.
His eyebrows dip and his mouth sets in a frown and he’s finally had enough, he’s finally going to give in and snap , but he doesn’t.
Izuku takes a deep breath, then stares straight into the camera. Far too monotone, far too blandly, Izuku says, “Today, we weren’t enough. We failed you, and for that I am sorry. But I promise you that tomorrow, we’ll be better. To answer your question,” Izuku looks down to meet Yamamoto’s eyes, “you can trust us to keep Japan safe because it’s our job. We will take care of you. We will keep you safe.”
Yamamoto can’t find the words to respond. They’re struck speechless, as much by Izuku’s attitude as his words.
It’s unnerving.
Izuku once again turns to the camera, and he bows low. “Thank you for trusting us. Good night.”
He walks off-stage quickly, his arms stiff at his sides.
The EMTs are ridiculously busy, so much so that Shouta is able to sneak off without receiving so much as a wayward glance. It’s unfortunate, but for this one moment, it at least has an upside.
Shouta manages to intercept Izuku just before he reaches the triage area, with a shouted, “Hey!” and a short sprint that leaves him gasping for breath.
“Shou!” Izuku startles, shifting to catch him when he stumbles. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Shouta coughs and waves him off. “Physically, sure. If you could help me to that bench?” He points vaguely, and Izuku helps him over. (Shouta only denies medical attention when it’s important, and this is why. Fucking hell, he should’ve just waited until Izuku came to see him.)
They collapse onto the bench, both exhausted from their various injuries, Izuku moreso for carrying Shouta. They take a moment to catch their breath, and then Izuku is looking up at Shouta from under green curls, tears hovering in the corners of his eyes.
“Sensei, what’s going on? Is someone in trouble? You shouldn’t be-“
“Shouldn’t be up, I know,” Shouta finishes tiredly. “Everyone’s fine- or, as fine as it can be, in this sort of scenario.”
“That’s good,” Izuku exhales with clear relief, such a stark difference between him and whatever persona he’d been displaying ten minutes ago. He tilts his head slightly. “But… what’s going on, then? You’re here for a reason, aren’t you?”
Shouta sighs and nods. “Yeah. Izuku,,, what was going on out there?”
“On out where?” Izuku blinks, confusion clear in the slight frown he sports. Shouta simply waits, and a moment later, he sees realization bloom across his face. “Oh… at the press conference.”
Shouta waits for a beat, but when Izuku doesn’t elaborate, he nods, “Mhm. What was that? You weren’t acting like yourself at all- why?”
Izuku frowns. “Shouta, you’ve said it yourself. Heroes who show too much emotion end up retired or killed, martyrs who’ll be forgotten the next day. It’s only logical to have a persona of sorts, right?”
Shouta inhales sharply. He vaguely remembers saying that, after one too many heroes who wore their hearts on their sleeves were murdered and glorified. This... this isn’t what he meant, though. He never meant to turn Izuku- bright, bubbly Izuku- into this.
Not quite emotionless, but jarring all the same.
Shouta grabs Izuku by the shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “That’s- that’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” Izuku asks genuinely. “And even if it wasn’t, isn’t this for the best? It’s only logical to keep a calm face; hysterical people are taken far less seriously, and the country needs to know it’s taken care of.”
Shouta inhales sharply because the thing is- Izuku is right. The country needs to see a brave face, the country needs to be reassured.
They admire Izuku for his empathy, they admire him for his quick retorts, but when they are frightened and lonely, they need to see someone who is certain of himself. Someone who doesn’t yell when things get tough, or cry when tragedy strikes.
They need a hero.
And can Shouta blame Izuku for crafting a persona, crafting his own warrior face, when Shouta himself does the same?
After all, Shouta is human too. When one of his students isn't strong enough to do what needs to be done, Shouta feels bad for them. When he’s just rescued someone from a building set alight by their abusive ex, Shouta emphasizes with them. Shouta is concerned for them, kami help him.
But he knows not to let it show. Scared people need a brave face, not a coward with too much weight on his shoulders. (Not that Izuku is a coward, because he isn’t- Shouta would nearly go so far as to call him the bravest person he knows- but he’s under a lot of pressure, and his inclination to tears isn’t exactly comforting in the wake of tragedies.)
It seems that Izuku’s learned the same, and Shouta isn’t sure whether to be proud or disappointed that he’s learned such a skill. He shouldn’t need it, after all.
But in this desolate, broken world, someone needs to be there to pick up the pieces.
And having Izuku, no, Deku, as the rising face of pro heroes will surely jumpstart the process.
Shouta has taught Izuku how to keep calm under immense pressure. At heart, though, he’s still the same goldenhearted, eager fanboy he’s always been.
Izuku taps at his sleeve, and it’s only then that Shouta realizes that he’s been staring off into the distance for a moment too long, and Izuku’s nervous expression all-too-easily conveys his questions: Did I do alright? Are you proud of me?
Shouta carefully lifts his arm so that it rests against Izuku’s shoulders, and he cards a hand through his fluffy green curls. “Yes,” he says gruffly. “I am.”
Izuku’s resulting smile was like a beam of sunlight. Shouta can’t help the small smile that pulls at the corners of his lips, and he tugs Izuku just a bit closer. He’s asleep not a minute after, and Shouta smiles ruefully.
Izuku, Shouta’s son in all but name, is mirroring him to a degree that he hadn’t expected, but Shouta can’t say that he minds.
As long as Izuku comes home, as long as Izuku is satisfied with himself, Shouta will support him. It’s what a good parent does, after all, and while Shouta keeps a calm face, he can’t help the warmth he feels when his son imitates him
The world may be on fire, but they’ll protect it the best they can.
Shouta hugs Izuku tight and lets sleep drag him under.