(cw: minor breakdown, unintentional self-harm)
He manages to make it into the bathroom before he breaks down completely.
He's lucky he's not attached to any machinery as he was when he first woke up. Instead, the nurses (upon Yamada's insistence) put one of their brand new portable vitals monitors inside his arm like a chip. That way Izuku won't have to be stuck in his bed or call someone if he has to piss.
They were still clear about how Izuku is not to strain himself or move around, however. He's in a recovery state, even though he's healing pretty quickly. The doctors, to be fair, aren't even sure why he's been healing so fast—Izuku isn't about to tell them he has a new regeneration quirk, of course, so it's natural for them to be a little cautious.
The chip is only temporary and will be removed before he's released, so there's that to put his mind at ease.
Izuku isn't too worried about it anyway. He watched them put it in, and if he has to take it out himself, he knows where to find knives.
Since he only has one barely functioning arm right now, he struggled when he tried to turn the handle to the bathroom. His stiff bandages made it so he couldn't tighten his fingers around it, and it wasn't one of the ones where you could just press down—so, really, the logical thing would've been to call someone for help.
But Izuku would actually rather die than do that. He did what any normal, anxiety-ridden superpowered teen would: he got frustrated, sent a little bit of energy from Boost to his fingers, and used his teeth to tear off the bandages on his hand once his fingers flexed enough to rip them.
It took three seconds. And then he was in.
So here he is now, barely able to breathe, wishing the fucking emotions would go away. There are too many of them. He hates it.
He's always pushed away his own feelings, ever since he was little and not allowed to show them. Ever since he had to put on a brave face for his mother and hide the bad stuff inside him. He put all of his feelings on the back burner and never dealt with them until eventually, years later, they all just started smoking and setting off all of the alarms.
And even then, Izuku didn't put out the resulting fires. His building burned down, and he went on to the next place.
If he doesn't even deal with his own emotions, why the hell would he ever want someone else's? What cruel joke is this? Did his father do it on purpose? Was he expecting this to happen?
He stumbles further into the bathroom, staring into the mirror. There's something there along with the foreign feelings. There's something on him, in him, around him. Everywhere.
Past the guilt and fear and anger and sadness—he can feel something. A quirk's first breath. A new beginning.
It's...
A hand lands on his shoulder, but the worst part is that it doesn't. There's nothing there when he snaps his neck around, there's nothing staring back at him in the mirror.
Paranoia worms its way deep inside his stomach, the root of all his problems right now, and it doesn't go away.
Deku?
Izuku hears the voice, young and clouded with horror and regret, but doesn't want to. He doesn't want to even acknowledge it.
He can feel the heavy weight of Tsubasa's wings now and it's almost maddening. The colors around him blur, the shapes distorting as he tries to breathe again. He can't afford to have the chip inside him alerting one of the nurses.
His face is as white as a sheet, the light scars on his face almost completely blending in.
God, he feels it. He feels him.
He knows it's supposed to be there, the wings, but it's not. They're not there. It makes sense, really, that he didn't think he'd get the wings—so what is this?
Tsubasa's quirk was a mutant type. He was born with his beautiful wings, albeit smaller versions of them. The quirk factor, which is what Izuku is able to steal using Extract, does not include the wings themselves. It's just the ability for Tsubasa to use those wings. The factor itself is what connected them to Tsubasa's nerves and brain, allowing him to use them like a regular human limb with ease.
Izuku can't steal the mutant traits, not unless the quirk is transformative, so in this case, just as he suspected, he only stole the part of Tsubasa—no, the—the Nomu, that allowed it to use the wings.
His father may be able to steal certain kinds of mutant quirks fully, but Izuku cannot. He wasn't blessed with that ability.
Or maybe he should say cursed.
It's eerily similar to how Aizawa can still erase some aspects of a mutant quirk. For Ojiro, who has a tail that he was born with, his mutant limb will not be taken away when Aizawa activates Erasure. His ability to use the tail and have full mobile control over it, however, will be erased.
And so, Izuku's body still registers Tsubasa's quirk factor. It still registers what it's for, what it does, meaning that to his body the wings are there. The wings exist.
It's like a phantom pain that extends from the edges of his spine and shoulder blades a good few feet out into the space behind him. The wings exist, but not physically. They're there, he just can't see them. He can't use them.
It's a quirk malfunction that Father used to always complain was one of the few downsides to Extract.
"Your quirk is a dud that allows for other duds to be stolen, Izuku. Quite interesting, don't you think?"
"No."
"Oh, don't sound so ashamed. It'll help you in battle. As a last resort, it'll allow you to defeat even the most dangerous of mutants. Not all of them, sure. But even one circumstance is enough to prove it useful."
Izuku turns on the tap and splashes water on his face, but when the cold water doesn't work, when he's trembling so hard the fucking sink itself is rattling and banging against the wall, Izuku looks up again and he swears he can see them.
The red, shiny leather makes him sick. The cuts and holes in the wings and the talons on the end of them cause him to fall back. He grabs for the shower curtain but misses and ends up on his ass, back against the door.
His good arm reaches behind him, hand grasping at his hospital shirt—the one he had to bribe a nurse for to replace the shitty gown they had him in originally. He tugs it over his head, and it doesn't catch on anything on the way off. More specifically, it doesn't catch on the wings his body is trying to convince him he has; it just goes.
He throws it across the small room and starts to dig his fingernails into the areas where the wings would protrude from his back if he had them.
They're not there, he doesn't feel anything, but he does.
More red catches the corner of his vision, and he whines, his panic making him second guess his own reasoning. His nails scratch at the skin almost comfortingly, reassuring him that the wings are not there. He won't be caught. He won't have to make up some unbelievable, impossible excuse for suddenly having wings resembling those of the Nomu he killed.
He won't have to live with having Tsubasa's own damn limbs on his back for the rest of time. He won't have to lie, won't have to deal with—
The wings weigh him down, making another migraine spring up in his head, spreading from the back of his skull to his temples. Everything hurts, including his left arm. He's using it when he's not supposed to, and it's starting to fight back. He's sore all over, and it makes him almost irrationally angry because he's not even that injured.
That regeneration quirk took care of most of the heavy damage, as it's even better than Boost's regenerative factor, but come on! Why is he feeling like this? He doesn't deserve to feel like this. He shouldn't be feeling anything at all because he should be dead right now!
It's a punishment, something tells him, and it sounds like one of the mean voices from the very beginning. He hasn't heard them in a long time, but he welcomes it back all the same.
He clings to these thoughts, eyes squeezed shut as he tries not to look, tries not to make himself break down even more while everyone else's emotions overtake him.
There's nothing there, there's nothing there, there's nothing.
He's imagining it. All of it.
The extra weight on his back. The phantom pains. The flashes of red. Tsubasa, whom he swears he can feel all around him, circling him like a dog would their wounded buddy, voice calling out his name. It's all fake.
He needs it to be.
He doesn't realize he's hiccuping until black spots dot his vision, telling him that if he doesn't fix this now, he's not going to be able to get oxygen in correctly at all. There's a steady, slow stream of liquid flowing down his back from where he's digging his nails into the skin. He's making himself bleed and he can barely feel it.
But—but what if it's not actually because he's breaking the skin? What if he's bleeding because the wings are sprouting? What if he somehow will get the whole quirk? Is he going to open his eyes again and see the same wings that nearly carried him up to the stars?
What if he—
There's someone approaching.
Amidst all the chaos and emotions, Izuku feels something weird. Trepidation, worry, annoyance—it's all mixed into one, and it's fucking strong . Whoever must be feeling that is definitely going through a crisis, Izuku knows that for damn sure. The very presence of the person outshines all of the others, and Izuku's scratching stops upon recognizing the quirk of the user.
It's... Erasure? That's who he's sensing? This is Aizawa?
There's no way. He can't feel Aizawa! He's never been able to before unless he sees or hears him first. Only then does Extract ping his quirk for Izuku to track.
But Erasure has been around Izuku for so long that the boy is certain of the fact that it can't be a mistake. He knows what Aizawa feels like, and this... this is him.
His quirk lines up with the strong emotions Izuku is sensing, too, which is incredible. He can feel him! He's—he's sensing him! Even without already seeing or hearing him!
It's such a weird concept, such an abrupt change in the way Izuku's world spins, that he can't even accept it at first. The revelation has all of the other pointless emotions fading away, and his panic subsides for a moment.
It's because of the empathy quirk, right? Gotta be! He sensed the emotions first, and then Extract caught up. If he's right, he's going to implode, and if he's not, well, he'll still implode.
But along with the excitement and shock comes something he is even more familiar with: terror.
Because yeah, Aizawa is here and he can feel him, but also, Aizawa is here and he can fucking feel him.
Aizawa has now arrived after hours of radio silence, and his emotions, though usually skillfully hidden, were strong enough to drown out everything else in the entire hospital. Which, if Izuku can scrounge up enough brain cells like one would loose change in a wallet to think more about it, does not mean well for him.
Either way, Aizawa is coming, just like Tsukauchi had, and he's walking fast.
Izuku scrambles to his feet, nearly falling right back on his ass due to his right arm not doing shit to help him. His left arm throbs, burning pain racing through him as the bandages he unraveled from his hand hang down a little more, still wrapped around his forearm and shoulder.
He looks like a wreck, and Yamada wouldn't be happy if he saw him, but Izuku's not thinking of him right now.
All he knows is Aizawa and not wings and fear.
His hand won't grasp the bathroom door handle this time, even as he tries to force it like before. The pain makes him grit his teeth, but no amount of Boost makes his mottled fingers cooperate.
There's ringing in his ears, and the lights are too bright. His body won't work, it won't listen to him.
Aizawa's confusion hits Izuku in the face, and the sense of urgency that follows does the same.
He panics trying to get the door open, berating himself for closing it in the first place, but it doesn't matter because then the handle turns by itself and the door wrenches open.
Izuku is left to look like a fool with his trembling hand hanging midair, skin prickling when the cooler air comes into contact with his chest and back.
Aizawa's face contorts in surprise, but the air quickly turns electric when his anger transfers to Izuku. "Midoriya, I was calling you. Why the hell weren't you—" He stops abruptly, doing a double take when he sees the red on the tips of Izuku's fingers. "Are you bleeding?"
Immediate worry leaks into the space between them, and Izuku wonders why the empathy quirk hasn't turned off yet. How did he do it before? He wants it off. He doesn't like this. The knowing.
Aizawa is quick. He grabs Izuku's hand, twisting it so he can see if there are any fresh cuts on the fingers, probably.
"I—I didn't—it's from my back, not—" He hisses, cutting himself off when Aizawa puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him around roughly to see for himself.
Izuku shivers, feeling exposed. He can sense Aizawa's eyes roaming over his back, focusing on the scratches and crescents that litter the areas around his shoulder blades.
"Jesus," Aizawa breathes out. His hands hover over Izuku, but he doesn't touch the marks. Instead, he grabs Izuku again by his better shoulder and pulls him out of the bathroom, directing him back to his hospital bed. "Naomasa only left you for twenty minutes, kid. What's hurting?"
Naomasa? Since when did you start calling him that?
"Midoriya," Aizawa says, voice firm to gain his attention.
"Nothing! It's—it's nothing! My quirk, it's already healing them." His words come out choppy and uneven, making Aizawa's brows furrow. "I'm okay."
This earns him a scoff. "Bullshit."
Izuku is pushed until he's sitting down, but Aizawa keeps him from leaning back. The man hits a button on the side of the wall, asking for assistance, and Izuku jerks. "Hey, you don't need to—!"
"Shut it," Aizawa orders, and Izuku's nose pinches despite himself.
Ouch, Number Seven says.
He deserves it, another replies, causing voice number five to pipe up immediately.
Do you always have to be so mean?
Oh, come on, I wasn't meaning it like that! The kid needs firmness right now and you know it!
Seven speaks again. Yeah, but maybe next time say it when he's not listening, dipshit.
The mental door is slammed, and Izuku is cut off from them, solidifying his previous beliefs. This means that not only can they see everything he can and everything he did in the past, they can also hear his thoughts and track them. They can decide whether or not they want him to hear them.
They always could.
It's almost funny, because really they're like little spies in his head. They know more about him than anyone, even his mother. Not even All for One and Auntie and Kacchan are privy to some of his more disturbing memories or thoughts. They probably know more than AINA did when she was still alive, and he told her everything.
He hates the idea of the voices, sure, but also... maybe it can be nice. Maybe. To have other people in the know.
People who quite literally have no space to judge.
If he... gets better... maybe he can actually have normal conversations with them? Maybe he can try to make up, at least a little bit, for what his father did to them. Is that selfish? To want to do that? He doesn't think so, but then again he can't be sure.
It would be selfish if they didn't want him to do that, he knows, as he'd be doing it just to make himself feel better at that point, but what if they do?
How would he even know? It's not like he can outright ask them, and even then it would be weird.
What if he just calls a mental emergency meeting or something? He can gather them all around like a council with everyone having a little throne and discuss some things.
Actually, now that he remembers what the mean voice was saying to him before Tsukauchi showed up, he might not want to do that. He doesn't exactly deserve to see them. They didn't choose Izuku—he did. He chose One for All, and they probably had no choice in who the next user was.
He wonders briefly if they're upset by All Might's choice. Do they think he made a mistake? Do they blame him for it?
God, he hopes they don't hate him because of it. It's not All Might's fault that Izuku is a liar—
"Sweetie?"
There's a nurse in front of him. Her eyes are what he focuses on first; they have multiple colors in them and change rapidly. It reminds him of a lava lamp. Her face is pinched in concern, and she has a flashlight in her hand that she uses to shine into his eyes next.
He turns away, blinking rapidly. He doesn't know when she got there or how long she's been talking to him, but judging by her expression and the way Aizawa is bouncing his leg ever so slightly from where he stands off to the side, he figures it's been a few minutes.
Izuku shifts, his awareness coming back to him. There's something sticky on his shoulder blades, and he frowns.
"We fixed up your little scrapes," the nurse explains kindly. "What you're feeling is the fast-healing ointment we put on you to make sure it doesn't bother you. Though it looks like your quirk is doing most of the work."
It is, isn't it? He can't even feel the scratches anymore. His skin sewed it up already. His new quirk is kind of a blessing in disguise. Well, that's one of them at least.
Something else he notices is that he doesn't feel the wings anymore. The cream on his back must be helping with that somehow.
And bingo. There's a fix to that specific quirk-related problem of his. He'll just need a lifetime supply of whatever the ointment is and he'll be good to go.
"Even though you have impressive regeneration, Midoriya, it's still important to not strain yourself. It's incredibly irresponsible to not listen to the doctors when they tell you to take it easy. Removing your protective bandages also wasn't a wise thing to do." The nurse is sitting on a stool, currently putting on some new gloves. These ones are green. He thinks the other ones were blue, but it's not like he was paying attention when she was apparently fixing up his back. He was somewhere far away. "I've replaced the bandages you unraveled, but I might as well change the ones on your right arm too. May I?"
She gestures to his arm, a clear question, and Izuku stiffens. He doesn't want anyone touching it, but it's clear that's what she needs to do. It won't hurt him, obviously, he's not even worried about that, but what if she decides to do something else? What if she's secretly a villain and is going to cut his entire arm off? What if she has a quirk that'll harm her if she touches that specific arm of his?
His theories are outlandish and frankly stupid, but he can't help them all the same.
Because the fact of the matter is that this is a medical professional, practically a doctor, and he doesn't like that. He never will.
He glances at Aizawa, eyes wild, but the man is just watching them and makes no move to help.
Izuku, after a few moments of awkward hesitation, nods his head. "Yeah," he says hoarsely.
He watches like a hawk as she carefully takes his palm into her own and starts to cut at the cast to get to the bandages. She takes them off slowly, revealing splotchy, uneven skin. His arm is dark and seemingly layered with bruises not yet healed.
He must've been in terrible shape for them to not be gone already. Either that or his new regeneration quirk picks and chooses what it heals.
All of the hair on his arm has been burned off, and there are so many tiny scars and scratches that it looks like someone was playing Connect the Dots with his freckles. At the top of his arm, near his shoulder, there are deep, wide puncture marks. Izuku remembers them from when the Moth Nomu nearly took off his arm entirely with its jaws. He was lucky it only left him mangled.
He shouldn't have been consistently using One for All and his other quirks afterwards when his arms were already in such a bad state, but did he really have a choice then?
Izuku looks away, unable to look at himself anymore. What's a few more ugly additions to my body?
"Can you feel this?" The nurse asks, and Izuku doesn't even bother looking at what she's doing even though his senses are screaming at him.
"Just the, uh, the pressure. Besides that, no. I can't... I can't feel anything."
She hums. "What about now?"
He squeezes his eyes shut. Heavy rain pounds on the window, and thunder rumbles nearby; the storm has arrived. "No."
"Over here?"
The pressure moves, and his arm tingles at the touch. Despite this, no other sensation or pain comes. He shakes his head.
Her fingers brush over his shoulder and ghost towards his neck. "What about here?"
"Yeah. I feel it there." He watches trees whip around in the wind. "It stops at, uh, the trapezius, I think."
She nods in response. "That would make sense. You've damaged your nerves pretty badly with the amount of force you exerted upon using your enhancements. That, plus the placement of the bite you received from one of those creatures, didn't do you any favors this time. For power types, this outcome is unfortunately not uncommon after years of heroic work, though why this is happening so soon to you as a first year student is still a mystery to us."
Izuku has already heard this. The doctor explained it to him when he was with Yamada. He doesn't feel like hearing it all over again but also doesn't want to tell her to stop, as she's just doing her job.
Aizawa steps closer to get a better look, and Izuku wants to pull his arm back. "Will it go away?"
The nurse sighs softly and begins to carefully rewrap Izuku's arm with clean bandages. "I'm not his doctor, but I can tell you what I know from past experience, Mr. Midoriya. In these—"
"It's Aizawa," Izuku corrects before he can stop himself.
The silence that follows is deafening. Both Aizawa and the nurse look at him, and Izuku turns from the window to stare at the two of them, burning underneath their gazes. "Sorry. He's just not, uh..."
Aizawa is not Mr. Midoriya. Not even close to it. He probably doesn't want to be referred to as such, either.
The nurse takes it in stride and flashes the man a quick look. "My apologies, Mr. Aizawa. As I was saying, in these kinds of cases, especially with how young Midoriya here is, there really is no way of knowing just yet."
Izuku pointedly ignores the way Aizawa is looking at him now.
"Mr. Aizawa, do you know what peripheral neuropathy is?"
"I've heard of it," Aizawa responds, arms folded. Izuku doesn't know how he didn't notice it before, but the man is wearing his capture weapon around his neck even though he has casual clothes on. He's wearing black jeans and a plain sweater, and his hair is frizzy and pulled back in a half-bun.
Izuku wonders where he was before he came here. He obviously didn't have time to put on his hero costume.
"It's a result of damage to the nerves located outside of the brain and spinal cord, called your peripheral nerves. This kind of damage often causes weakness, numbness, and pain, usually in the hands and feet. In some cases it can even extend up to your legs or arms, which is what we're seeing here." Her head tips to the side as she finishes taping down the bandages. "It can also affect digestion, urination, and circulation, but from what we've monitored so far, he's normal in those areas."
"And we're sure the cause of it is his injuries?"
Izuku feels irritation in Aizawa, and he doesn't enjoy it. The nurse, however, is the epitome of calm and collected. Her emotions are tightly contained. "There are a number of causes of peripheral neuropathy, and it's not always as severe as this. Autoimmune diseases, diabetes, alcoholism, bone marrow disorders, vitamin deficiencies—you name it. All of these could cause it. But, given the situation and what the doctors found, yes, the injuries he sustained and the continuous pressure on the nerves seems to be the main cause."
"Exposure to poisons," Izuku adds in a whisper before he can stop himself, remembering the medicinal class he was taking online a few months back.
"That can also be a cause," she concedes. "However, we determined this morning that the Nomu that attacked you did not have the toxic substances in its venom needed to do this kind of damage."
Tsukauchi must have brought them samples to test.
"This condition is chronic, Mr. Aizawa. It could last for years, or be lifelong. There are bad days and good days, I say. The feeling in his right hand and arm may return fully, not at all, or by only a little. If it does fully return, there may still be moments where he feels the pins and needles. Or, the feeling may return but then leave permanently after a few months. As I said, there's no way to tell until it happens."
Aizawa is quiet for a few more moments, taking all of the information in. "I was told it's treatable."
Izuku almost laughs outright at the words but stops himself, turning his focus back to the window. He wishes he could see Missy right now. Iida and Todoroki, too.
"Treatment can help, sure, but it's not curable. We've already been giving him the medications needed to stop the burning and the stabbing pains, which are other common symptoms. It'll help prevent the condition from getting worse. If we don't take these steps, infection is imminent, which would force us to amputate."
Amputate. Amputate.
Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath. "So he takes the medication forever?"
"He'll have to take it for however long his body tells him to," she says simply. "The medication will mostly be for the nerve pain. Antidepressants may be issued to help with regulation, along with some generic pain relievers like oxycodone. Anti-seizure pills would be a last resort, but pain-relieving creams are a must, similar to the kind I just used on his back."
Well, at least Izuku is getting the pain cream he wanted! This is a win in his book!
Sort of. Maybe. Okay, maybe not fully.
The nurse goes into detail about the symptoms he'll likely still experience and the problems he'll face, but Izuku doesn't pay it any mind. The topic moves on to the other injuries the surgeons had to take care of, like the slices on his stomach and the burns all over him.
She even mentions the remains of the epinephrine found in his system, making a point to tell Izuku how irresponsible it was (again) to not go directly to a hospital after being given the adrenaline.
This comment prompts Aizawa to give Izuku a look, which tells the boy that, yeah, they will be discussing that bit of information later on.
Perfect.
The nurse leaves soon after, practically threatening Izuku to not mess with his bandages again. He was given another shirt, too, reminding Izuku that he was indeed shirtless and just forgot in the midst of his panic. Granted, he was still mostly covered in bandages, but the embarrassment remains.
The storm is raging outside by then, and it sounds almost as bad as a typhoon. It's comforting to Izuku. The rain pounding against the window and outer walls scratches his brain just right.
And also distracts him from the elephant in the room.
Aizawa is there, quietly reading a book and making notations in red and black pens. He checks his phone like clockwork and then goes back to reading as if he's on a deadline of sorts.
Izuku watches the television and spaces out, trying to push the limits of his empathy quirk whilst also trying to ignore literally everything else.
The channel was turned by Aizawa, thankfully, so a stupid kids' cartoon is playing instead of those awful news channels. Izuku isn't going to admit he likes it, though.
Despite his attempts to ignore them, he still finds himself clinging to whatever emotions Aizawa exudes every few minutes. His mood changes on a whim, apparently, and it's interesting to Izuku to study. He always thought Aizawa only had a few emotions, a limited range, but he now realizes he was dead wrong.
Aizawa feels everything, just at different frequencies and levels. And he's a master at hiding it.
Izuku's stomach coils up tight again. He wonders how many times he's completely misinterpreted some of Aizawa's actions or words because of this misconception. How many times has he thought one of his faces meant something different? Has he been unfairly judging him on some occasions? Is it frustrating to Aizawa when his emotions are incorrectly inferred?
God, no wonder he seems sick of Izuku.
"Stop upsetting yourself," Aizawa says abruptly, not looking at him.
Izuku jumps. That's the first thing he's said in a while. The last time he talked was to tell Izuku to quit moving around and rest.
He wants to ask how the man knew he was working himself up but refrains from doing so. He likes to think he's also pretty good at hiding his emotions, but maybe he's wrong about that too.
Has that always been the case?
He then remembers what he asked Yamada a few hours prior to Aizawa showing up, and his anxiety returns.
"He hasn't come to see me yet. I know he's busy, I know that, but he hasn't even called. He always calls." Izuku wriggles around in his spot, trying to calm his nerves. "Is he angry?"
Yamada softens even more if that's possible. "Midoriya, I think he cares very deeply about a lot of things, and what happened last night... It scared him. It scared us all. When we got the notification that your wristband was destroyed and we saw what was happening in Hosu, we thought the worst. But that part isn't your fault, ya know? I think he's more worried than angry, kiddo."
"Okay," Izuku whispers, though he doesn't quite believe it.
And here, with Aizawa here and alive in the seat next to his hospital bed, just as he was when Izuku's building went up in flames, Izuku believes it even less.
He swallows, gathering up every last ounce of his courage. "You're mad at me."
"I'm mad at a lot of things."
It's not a confirmation, really, but Izuku doesn't need it to be. "But you're not talking as much as you normally do. Even when you're mad you usually talk more than this."
Aizawa gives a dry snort in reply. "There's not much to talk about. And forgive me but I'm not exactly in the talking mood."
"I know. I just meant that you're... you're trying to be nice. To me. So you don't..." Izuku struggles to find the right words. "Blow up."
Aizawa glances over at him. His expression is guarded, but his emotions betray him. "What makes you say that?"
"Your jaw is clenched. You've been on the same page for six minutes, even though it only takes you three on average to turn to the next after notating. You keep glancing at me every other minute, as if expecting me to do something. You haven't yelled at me once even though I know you'd like to—"
"I don't like yelling at you." His voice is tense, bordering on annoyed. Izuku is poking at a sleeping bear. "Is that what you think I'm here to do?"
"Well, you do it a lot anyway so I just assumed—"
The book closes with a snap. "Midoriya."
"I—I'm just saying! I know I messed up, and you have every right to be—to be angry at me, but usually you wouldn't even hesitate to tell me what I did wrong or to scold me or whatever, so I don't know why you're—you're so quiet. I don't like it."
Aizawa's eye twitches. "I'm quiet because I'm trying to save you some dignity, kid, so just sit back and rest so we can get you out of here as quickly as we can. Then we'll talk."
Izuku's heart rate spikes, and it takes more courage to admit these next words than it did to take the Nomu's quirk. "I don't like waiting when I'm—I'm in trouble. It makes me nervous and paranoid—"
"Do you really want to do this now?"
The rest of his sentence dies before it can leave his mouth. He looks away, eyes burning, and the scar on his jaw prickles. He wishes he could soothe it.
"Alright, fine." Aizawa must take his silence as a good enough answer, as he sets his book on the table. "We can start with the fact that you brought your Rabbit costume with you to the internship, which should not have even happened saying as you promised Hizashi you would leave it at home."
"I didn't promise," Izuku corrects, though his voice is weak. "I—I just said I wouldn't bring it, I didn't promise."
Aizawa is thoroughly unimpressed, his words tight when he responds just as quickly. "So lying to Hizashi is okay? Going behind our backs is okay?"
Izuku squirms. Okay, maybe I should've sucked it up and waited. I'm not ready for this.
When will he ever be ready for a conversation like this, though? No one ever is.
"No." His breath shudders. "It's not okay. I only brought it because I had a feeling something would go wrong, and—and I was right! It was just a precaution. That's all it ever was, 'Zawa. A failsafe."
"This whole thing—this internship with Gran—was for Deku, not Rabbit. It was for heroics, Midoriya, not your silly little vigilantism."
Izuku's left hand twitches. It shakes by his side. "Silly? How is it—no, this isn't even about Rabbit! He's just a tool that allows me to do certain things that Deku can't! I don't know how you—"
Aizawa cuts him off. "You say allow as if it's legal, which it's very much not."
"I know that!" Izuku snaps, his exhaustion and guilt making him frustrated. "I just meant that—!"
"There's nothing Rabbit can do that Deku can't." Aizawa's tone is final, and with his arms crossed and feet planted firmly on the ground before him, it doesn't look like he's going to budge either.
Immediately, it pisses Izuku off.
"Are you being this dense on purpose or something?" He hisses before he can think better of it, and Aizawa's eyes flash, his next response quick.
"I'll give you a few seconds to rethink what you just said, kid."
Izuku's face darkens, and he has to bite his tongue hard to stop a few choice words from escaping.
He hates this. He can't even walk away here like he'd usually do during an argument at the apartment. He can't run back to the guest room or seek protection with Yamada, he can't do anything like that.
He's just stuck sitting here, arms feeling nonexistent but also so, so fucking heavy, to listen to what Aizawa is telling him.
But maybe that's why the man waited hours to see him. He let Yamada see him first. He let the blond get his own feelings out of the way and let Tsukauchi come around to ask his questions and talk with him, and only then did he decide to come back from his 'cleanup.'
He did this on purpose, didn't he? He waited until Izuku was already at a low point. Maybe he thought this kind of situation wouldn't have happened if he did that. Maybe he thought Izuku wouldn't argue with him. Well, Izuku is currently proving him wrong.
Aizawa must see the look on his face, because then he sighs and leans back a little, eyes closing as the air leaves him. "I didn't want to talk about this now, Midoriya, but now that we are, we might as well finish it. I also didn't want to corner you here, but this is the only time where you'll have to actually listen to me. I'm not..." He struggles on his next sentence. "I'm not trying to make you feel like shit. I'm not trying to lecture you. I just need you to understand that this stuff," he says, gesturing to Izuku's casts and to the hospital in general, "can be avoided more times than not. It should've been avoided."
Izuku stares hard at the ceiling. It's a popcorn ceiling. It looks ugly. "It's not like I was trying for this outcome," he mumbles.
"Didn't say you were. But someone's ignorance is still ultimately their fault, and they have to deal with those consequences." Aizawa shifts to try and catch his eye. "Do you understand that? Because it doesn't seem like you do, not to me or to anyone else, and that's a problem. The problem. That goes into your safety, into your well-being. It's important that you see your mistakes and fix them so they won't end up hurting you again."
Izuku shakes his head and lifts his knees to his chest, staring at the sunflowers in the corner of the room, courtesy of All Might (according to Yamada), as if they've wronged him somehow. "I don't care."
"Excuse me?"
"I—I didn't care," he corrects hastily, blinking to get rid of the stinging in his eyes. He'd ask for some of Aizawa's eye drops but somehow he doesn't think this is an appropriate time. Especially saying as Aizawa himself would probably have to help put them in since Izuku's hands aren't supposed to be doing anything strenuous.
And that... that would be too close for Izuku's liking. He doesn't want to see Aizawa's face like that now. Doesn't want to see what may be waiting there.
"When I... when I was out there fighting, I—I didn't care about my safety. How could I?" He tries to shrug, but because of his stiff arms it looks more like a twitch. "Sir, people were dying. There wasn't any time to think. There wasn't any time to—to be rational or whatever. I know I could've done better, I know that, but I just had to—"
"It's not about you doing better. It's about you learning when to quit. It's about you learning how to listen to orders for once in your damn life," Aizawa says. That impatience is coming back, and it's coming back fast. "Gran Torino told me how he ordered you to stay back on that train, and you didn't listen. You didn't even hesitate to disobey him, did you? You don't follow orders, Midoriya. How are heroes supposed to trust you in the field if you don't follow orders? How am I supposed to trust you?"
Did you ever? Izuku thinks bitterly, but he pushes that unfair thought aside.
Instead, he ignores the interruption entirely and keeps going, following the script he's been making up on the spot so he won't break down. "I had to do something. I had to try, at least, to help. There were six Nomu, Aizawa. Six. Was I supposed to let that go? To leave? Was I supposed to leave all those civilians behind?"
"If you were so determined to help, there were evacuation teams all around that you could have joined instead of throwing yourself out there like bait—"
"Really? That's your solution? So—so was I supposed to just ignore all the Nomu I came across that were terrorizing the civilians? What was I supposed to say? Oh, sorry, guys, I can't help you out right now. You see that big scary monster? Yeah, I'm not allowed to fight that. Good luck, though! I'm sure some other hero will get here in time to—"
"If you'd have used the panic button like you were supposed to, heroes would've been sent to your side in less than two mi—"
"I forgot!" Izuku snaps, sick and tired of hearing that be brought up again. "I forgot it was there, okay? You're acting like I just—like I ignored it on purpose to—to get back at you or something—"
"Don't even start with that," Aizawa warns, eyes flaring red. "And really? You just forgot? I'm supposed to believe that?"
Yamada believed it, maybe because I wasn't lying!
Izuku's face goes blank. "No. I was saying all that for funsies."
Aizawa's hair begins to float at the ends. "Would it kill you to be serious for one conversation?"
Izuku feels his teacher's anger and feeds on it, his own guilt and irritation building up to form one ugly mess of emotions. "I am serious, sensei."
"What would have happened if Gran wasn't able to convince Endeavor to let go of you? What if he decided to unmask you right there? You were a vigilante intervening with a statewide crisis, kid. You were in the presence of the Hero Killer. That alone should have secured your spot in prison with Endeavor's name on the rewards spot."
Izuku, at that moment, when he was barely conscious and being held by Endeavor, honestly didn't care. He already failed then. He fucked up his body even though he promised All Might he'd try harder to do better. He dragged Todoroki into this mess without meaning to with his fireworks. He let them both know his identity. And he... he... he let that Nomu get to Native.
He wasn't fast enough, smart enough, or brave enough to be the hero he always wanted to be.
But he doesn't have the words to describe how he's feeling to Aizawa right now, so he simply turns away again and looks out of the dark window.
He goes back to the one phrase he can always fall back on without fail. "I don't care."
The country already hates Rabbit. The news blames him for Native's end, and there are now hundreds of misconstrued stories out there that will never be fully disproven.
"You're going to care, kid, because this?" He stands up, reaches down, and picks up the brown paper bag that Yamada hid under the chair. Izuku knows it contains his dry cleaned Rabbit costume. "It's over. You're through."
There's a wall around Izuku's mind and heart. Always has been. Later on, if you ask him, Izuku will tell you that this is probably when the first crack happened. "What?"
"You're. Done."
Izuku laughs disbelievingly, but it hurts his throat and makes him descend into a coughing fit. "You're... taking it away from me?" He asks when he's gathered himself again.
Aizawa sounds icy. "I'm shutting you down."
Blood rushes to Izuku's ears, pounding so loud that it nearly drowns out everything else. For a second there he's about to ask if he's actually serious or if this is some very late April Fool's prank, but then he searches through Aizawa's feelings and motives and finds no trace of humor or deception.
There's just anger and sharpness and authority.
Aizawa is dead serious. He's not lying, at least not that Izuku can tell, and he's not backing down.
Like a small flame that's been doused in gasoline, Izuku's own blinding rage overtakes him. It's all consuming. His insides are itching, screaming, and burning, clawing at him to escape. Faintly, he feels Aizawa's own walls, and it's clear that they're both burning and feeding off of each other.
It'll be a never ending cycle.
It feels, somehow, sickeningly good. The fight. The standoff. He's always wanted this, really. Aizawa's undivided attention. He's wanted to be able to talk to the man one on one like this, he's wanted to be able to say anything and everything he ever wanted to him and get away with it because they'd both be doing it to each other.
He's always needed a 'heart-to-heart' conversation despite his outward disgust and awkwardness at the mere thought of one.
His wishes, however, have been granted in the most fucked up way possible, and now his teacher—his mentor, his goddamn lifeline—is right here in front of him, spewing absolute shit, and Izuku is exhausted and done with not being heard or seen by the person who he wishes the most would treat him like anything other than a misbehaving puppy whenever he messes up.
Because once upon a time Aizawa did do that. On their patrols, on those nights they shared on those rooftops—Aizawa didn't control him, he was never overbearing, he was almost always mindful and yet blunt, and with every fucking smoothie and sandwich they had, Izuku felt seen.
He felt like something other than just himself. And it's a weird feeling to describe, really, but all Izuku knows is that feeling has been gradually fading away ever since he started living under Aizawa and Yamada's roof, and he isn't going to point fingers or blame or be ungrateful, but come on.
It's not fair. He didn't want that change! He didn't want to be leashed or swept under the rug by some n- nosy adults who apparently have nothing better to do than take care of him and fix him—as if he wasn't taking care of himself just fine without them.
Aizawa never tried to control him too much during patrol because he knew Izuku would walk away and shut him out. He knew Izuku had that power. But of course it's different now. Of course that's been changing in a time where Izuku doesn't have that power. Because if he tries to leave or shut him out like he would've back then, he will have nowhere to go. Izuku will be stuck. He will be trapped.
And Aizawa knows that. He knows it and is using that to his advantage.
It's insulting. It's betraying. And Izuku feels stupid for not taking this realization more seriously the moment he first had it back when he was barred from leaving Aizawa's apartment.
That should've been the first red flag. He became too comfortable, didn't he?
Izuku kicks his sore legs off the bed and tries to stand, nearly falling right over once his feet hit the ground. He rights himself just in time though and shakily stalks up to the absolute bastard in front of him. "Why did you ever bother taking me in?" Izuku asks hotly, voice cracking hard as he steps closer, because it doesn't matter that it's only Aizawa Shouta here—his caregiver, his stand-in guardian for Nezu, really—and not Eraserhead the pro hero, as the man still has the power to draw him in like a moth to a flame in any form, intriguing and dangerous and destructive.
He hates it. Izuku, right here, hates it all.
Izuku pauses, chest constricting with lack of oxygen or excess of something else flowing through his veins. "If I knew it was going to be like this, I would've asked you to just leave me in my building that night to burn with everything else I had. I would've been better off!"
It aches. The not-truth. It burns as it spills from his mouth, and as a result it sounds breathy and resigned and so, so damaged.
Aizawa's jaw is set. His eyes, usually so invested and comforting and warm, are sharp like flint. "You wanted me to leave you? Okay. That's fine. The next time some shit like that happens to you, I won't help. I'll do exactly as you said and leave your ass behind. Is that what you want? To be left alone?"
Ninth.
Izuku shuts the first voice out and continues on. "Did it really take you over a year to figure that out?"
"If you made up your mind once in a while, I wouldn't be left guessing."
Izuku bristles at the implication. "I never wanted to be trapped like this. Did you think me avoiding you all those times on patrol at the very beginning was just for fun?" He doesn't wait for an answer. His exhaustion and the drugs pumping through him are making him talk more openly than he ever would've in a sober state of mind. "You know, you're the complete opposite of him sometimes!"
Aizawa just rolls his eyes at what he probably thinks is a poor attempt at a topic change. "Oh, really? Who?"
"Nobody to you," Izuku says through gritted teeth, not making sense anymore. "It's just funny because I usually get reminded of him all the time when I'm around you, but now you're just—you're not even close to him! You're so frustrating."
"Like your father? Is that what you mean?"
Something like trepidation comes from Aizawa while he says the words, and Izuku jolts, momentarily brought out of his anger. "No! Shit, that's not even—no! Not him. I meant... it's just someone who used to take care of me. It doesn't matter anymore." When Aizawa still doesn't look convinced and starts to look more concerned than angry, Izuku turns on him again, hating how Aizawa seems to want to back down now, after Izuku has already started spilling his guts. "And that's another thing! Why are you so obsessed with my dad! It's none of your business who he is or what he's done to me, and you know it!"
Aizawa's lips are set in a thin line. "We're not discussing him right now."
"But you brought him up!" Izuku can't think correctly anymore, not as he pushes past the line his subconscious set for himself years ago, even before meeting the man here in front of him. "God, you're so fucking annoying! I don't need you to lecture me. I know I screwed up last night—I know. But you don't get to treat me as if I—as if I can't even take care of myself! Not after everything!"
"I don't care what you have to say." His words are harsh. Tight. "You are not expendable, Midoriya Izuku, and until you can get that through that thick head of yours, you're benched from everything. Rabbit is done, and you have no say in it. You never should've had a say. That was my mistake before, and I'm rectifying it now, kid."
"You act like this is gonna help me or something, but it's not." Izuku hiccups, and it frustrates him more, making him want to just throw whatever's closest to him at the man's stupid face. "Go right ahead and fix your mistake, Aizawa. Do it. Just try and stop me for good."
He will keep running. He will keep finding loopholes. Izuku's days are numbered, his life is limited, so he's not going to waste them in a prison. He's not going to be locked up or controlled.
This? Aizawa and Yamada? Izuku knew it was never going to be permanent. He always knew it was too good to be true.
But deep down? He doesn't blame them. It's not that they've done something wrong—it's just that Izuku is everything bad and they're everything that's right.
"Go ahead, throw your fit, kid. You believe whatever your teenage brain wants." Aizawa drops the bag and clenches his hands into fists. Izuku flinches at the sight but recovers quickly. "Keep destroying yourself. Keep the past in the past, whatever you decide." There's fire in his eyes, and this time Izuku shrinks back from the heat. "Because the next time something like this happens, you won't end up in a hospital. You won't get that privilege. You'll be six feet under." He pauses, as if to let the words sink in. "I'm not going to sit here and let you act like this. I won't be helping you kill yourself anymore."
Izuku jerks, and there's another crack. "That's not what I'm—"
"I don't care what you think it is you're doing. You're fooling yourself." Aizawa points to the bed, and Izuku starts to back towards it until he remembers that he's supposed to be disobeying right now. He's shaking again, torn between multiple sides. "I'm not going to continue arguing when you're like this. Eat your food the next time they bring it. I don't want to hear that you've refused it."
He heads for the door, and something sharp pierces Izuku's heart. "So that's it? You're—you're just gonna leave?"
Aizawa glances back. "I have to finish cleaning up what happened back there. I also have meetings to attend." His expression darkens again when he sees Izuku scoff. "Trust me, kid, I don't want to go any more than you want to be in those casts. Deal with it."
Izuku buzzes with unreleased rage. Aizawa isn't listening to him. He never does. He never hears him. Why is he being so unfair? Why can't he just let some things be?
So what if Izuku is reckless? He's not suicidal. He's not actively looking for that kind of end. He's always going to put everyone else before him simply because he deserves that. That's what he is supposed to do. He is supposed to be the exact opposite of his father if he is to help the world.
He doesn't mind it! It's just the way things are. He has to be of use to others.
Aizawa won't understand, and it's really not his fault, but Izuku can't help the next words from coming out, because the voices are back and the red is teasing him at the corners of the room and everything is too suffocating.
"God, I hate you so fucking much."
He whispers it and winces immediately after he says it, not really meaning for Aizawa to hear him. Izuku's lips part as if to retract it, to take it back, but the moment of opportunity leaves and he keeps quiet.
Aizawa must have heard it, as he pauses with his hand on the handle, but he doesn't comment on it. And Izuku knows it's childish, but he still doesn't take the words back even as the regret sits like ash in his throat.
"Hizashi will be here soon," is all Aizawa says, and then the door shuts behind him. He's gone just as quickly as he arrived.
Like shutters being put on windows before a hurricane, Aizawa's emotions are abruptly cut off from Izuku, snapping their invisible connection.
It was something that Izuku didn't even know they had until it was gone, and the absence of it leaves him empty and so, so alone.