Had this room always been so small?
It was a common thing for Haru, when he needed to get away for a moment, to take refuge in what had been his little brothers room. At first it was a place of comfort, somewhere for him to go to still be close to Izuku until he was found. As the months passed and no news of his brothers whereabouts came to light, as he could see his parents giving up hope, it became something else.
It became a reminder of everything that went wrong.
The room was too small, too bare. There was enough room for a bed, a desk and a set of drawers, but nothing else. The walls held nothing save for a singular poster; a small thing with images of the top ten heroes standing proudly. It should have been accompanied by so many more, but all that was left of them were tattered remains still hanging on with tape.
A singular window was high on the wall, letting only a small amount of light in. Why was this room so small?
Where were Izuku's things? They were in Haru's room. Izuku said it was because there wasn't enough space, but if that was true, then why did Izuku move out in the first place. They'd always shared a room, so Haru really wouldn't have minded. He would have loved to still be with his brother.
He collapsed to sit on the bed. It was Mom and Dad who'd said Izuku was ready to be on his own. They said it was a rite of passage in childhood to be in his own room. His own room, so much smaller than the others, tucked away.
Out of sight.
He gripped his hair harshly. Why didn't he see it before? It was so damn obvious! There was no way all the times Izuku had been left behind were innocent mistakes. No way all the forgotten meals were accidents. Why had it never registered before? Why had he not done anything?
He couldn't help but remember the day before Izuku ran. Dad hadn't even thought to check if Izuku was home, hadn't bothered to go upstairs to see his third child. Haru had. Haru had gone to fetch his brother, only to find him curled up in bed completely distraught.
A harsh voice calling his name snapped him out of his misery. Slowly, Haru picked himself up and gave Izuku's room one last look before leaving. It was dinner time.
Dinner was a much more awkward affair than it had been previously. Conversation was always stilted, with Mom and Dad trying to project an air of normality, but it only made Haru remember that Izuku never really talked during meals, and always tried to leave as soon as they were done.
Four places were set at the table. Yet another thing to lance at Haru's heart, because how many times had this been the case when Izuku was still upstairs? The food barely tasted of anything but he forced himself to eat it. Mizuki was sulking while Mom kept glancing at the empty space.
"So how has everyone's day been?" Mom asked, her light shaky and forced.
"Shit. That idiot Togata came back from his internship and now everyone acts as if he's the next coming of All Might," Mizuki said, "it's stupid. The moron could barely control his quirk for an entire year and now I'm supposed to believe he'll be a good hero."
"Mirai has taken a liking to him," Dad said.
"Yeah, but he's not you Dad! I don't know why everyone thinks Togata's such a big deal. He's always got that stupid smile on his face and no matter how many times he flashes his junk, he always just laughs it off like he doesn't even care."
"Maybe he doesn't?" Mom said.
"Only an idiot is that happy," Mizuki said, returning to sulking over her food.
Or maybe that's just who he is, Haru thought. He'd met Togata once, purely by chance. The boy shone incredibly brightly and honestly, it made sense for people to compare him to All Might. There was something about him that made him feel calming, even when he was being boisterous and exuberant.
"What about you Haru dear? How was school?" Mom asked.
"Fine."
Even the prestigious UA high school had lost a lot of its lustre. It didn't seem worth it, not when he couldn't share his experiences with his little brother.
"You settling in with your new class?"
"I still find it weird that one teacher could expel a whole class," Dad commented.
"Aizawa's just a grumpy old hobo who can't be bothered to teach," Mizuki said, then grumbled beneath her breath, "he wouldn't know what a proper hero ethics essay looked like if it strangled him with that stupid scarf."
He grades mine just fine, Haru thought.
"Mizuki that's no way to talk about your teachers," Mom scolded but Mizuki just rolled her eyes.
"Have you spoken to Mitsuki recently?" Dad asked.
"Oh yes, just the other day. Apparently Katsuki is training hard for the entrance exam and it's driving her up the wall."
Haru let his mothers words fade into the background. Was this what conversations had always been like? Mizuki making snide comments and Mom only lightly scolding her, while Dad said nothing at all? He was reminded of when he'd accidentally brought up high school applications for Izuku, and how viciously Mizuki had torn into him for wanting to go for the hero course at UA. Mom and Dad hadn't stopped her. He hadn't stopped her.
The empty space at the table stood out like a sore thumb.
"Has there been any news?" Haru asked, interrupting whatever inane conversation his parents were having.
Mom looked confused for a moment, but then her eyes passed over where Izuku would normally have sat and a lost expression crossed her face. Haru bit back a gasp when Mizuki kicked him beneath the table, thankfully without her quirk, looking at him as though she was mad he'd upset their mother. Dad steepled his fingers, resting his chin on top of them.
"No there hasn't, and frankly that worries me," he said, "I'll ask Tsukauchi about is tomorrow when I see him."
"He's been gone so long. Why haven't they found my baby yet?"
"There's only so much they can do with no evidence, though I'm sure he hasn't gotten far. At least that awful school was shut down. I can't believe they were hurting Izuku like that and we had no idea," Dad said.
If this had been a year ago, Haru may have believed his parents, but this was now and he had a new perspective on everything that had been bugging him for a while. Haru knew Izuku didn't like his school, but whenever he asked he always played it down. It was only when the investigation into Aldera was finished that he learned the truth. It was awful, and Izuku had hidden it all.
But Dad was the number one hero and his father. Surely if anyone should have noticed something was wrong, it should have been him. The food on the plate tasted like ash. Haru pushed it away and stood.
"I'm not hungry."
"Haru? Where are you going?" Mom asked.
"Yeah, it's your turn to do the dishes," Mizuki said.
"No Mizuki, it's your turn!" Haru snapped back, storming away from the table.
Why was everything so easy to see now than it had been back then? Why was hindsight 20/20?
The rest of the family left him alone for a while. It was only when Haru was going to bed, carefully shutting the door to Izuku's room behind him that he bumped into Mom. Her eyes were puffy and red. Had she been crying since he left the table? She eyed where he'd been coming from uneasily.
"Haru, please don't go into Izuku's room any more," she said.
"What?"
"I know you miss your brother, but I don't want you torturing yourself with it. You're picking fights with Mizuki, and you're oh so pale. It's not good for you sweetheart."
Bubbling anger rose up in his chest like a crashing wave. How dare she say that? How dare she act like missing his brother was a bad thing? He wanted to scream and rage at her, but one look at her devastated face stopped him. Instead, he asked something completely different.
"Why's his room so small Mom?"
"What do you mean?"
"Izuku's room. You said it was a rite of passage for a child to have his own room, but it's so small."
"Well it's the only room in the house that was available," she said.
"But why? If it was so important for him to have his own room, then surely we could have moved so we'd have more space? We're not exactly short on money."
"Your father didn't want to draw attention to us. You know this Haru."
"It wouldn't need to be something extravagant like Endeavour. Plenty of houses have four bedrooms and it wouldn't have given us away."
"But we all have lives here, and it would have uprooted us from that," Mom said, "you might not have been able to go to UA if we'd moved.
That was a load of crap. There was no way All Might's children wouldn't go to UA, even if they'd lived on the other side of the planet.
"He could still have shared with me," Haru said quietly.
"Sweetheart, you're sixteen years old. I'm pretty sure no teenager still wants to be sharing with his little brother," Mom said.
If having his own room meant potentially never seeing his little brother again, he'd give it up in a heartbeat. He'd take the tiny room and give Izuku his. Hell, he'd even share with Mizuki if it meant Izuku would be back with them. Something must have shown on his face because Mom's face crumbled. It was probably meant as sympathy, but when she stepped forward, arms opening, Haru backed away.
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
He closed the door before Mom could respond. He lay heavily on his bed, six months of guilt and grief pressing him down.
Izuku, wherever you are. Please be safe.
"I want a three page essay on proper rescue procedure, including examples where those procedures were not followed, due on my desk by next Monday."
The groans of his students would always amuse him. They acted as though homework was the bane of their existence, yet it was their choice to come to the best high school in Japan. At least they actually did the work, which was more than could be said for his former class.
Aizawa knew he was strict, and he knew he had a reputation for expelling pupils, even if he did re-enrol most of them. It was an effective tool for making troublesome students fall into line; put the thing they want most on the line so they understand what it means to take heroics seriously. Despite how often it worked, Aizawa knew it wasn't fool proof.
At the beginning of the year, UA had 40 students in its first year hero course. Over the first term, that number fell until by the end of the first semester, there were only 20. Aizawa wasn't saddened by this. He'd tried to make it work but the twenty he expelled weren't cut out for heroics, at least not from UA. The only thing he was glad about was that they still had 20 students, because there was a time when they could have gone down to 19.
He dismissed them and watched as class 1B packed up their things. As he tidied up his notes, his eyes slid over to the third desk in the row closest to the door, to the student who could have easily fallen through the cracks.
Haru Midoriya was not a bad student. Not in the slightest. He was doing well in his classes, and even on the first day when Aizawa put 1A through his assessment, Haru had taken the challenge and performed admirably. It made sense as the son of the number one hero.
Then two weeks into the school year, Haru's brother went missing. It was obvious to anyone with functioning eyeballs that it hit the boy hard. His hell class, usually obnoxiously loud and in your face, actually toned down for at least a day when they found out. Aizawa hoped he would bounce back, but as the weeks passed with no news, Haru continued to slip.
It wasn't helped by his class's generally bad attitude. They refused to push themselves, believing they could coast by on their quirks alone. Nothing Aizawa did got through to them. It was incredibly vexing, even more so because the flagrant disregard for compassion the class showed was clearly getting under Haru's skin. He was making more and more mistakes in class.
Aizawa was observant. He had to be, so he could see the boy was burning out. It was not his fault in the slightest, so Aizawa made the best choice of his teaching career that year. He coordinated with Midnight, home room teacher for 1B, and had Haru switched into her class. For all that she flirted, Midnight was nurturing as a teacher, and would hopefully provide a much more stable environment. It meant Aizawa had to take in one of her students, but given the stories she'd told him about her, he was glad to do it.
So the term ended, all twenty of Aizawa's students were expelled and, thankfully, Haru Midoriya was doing much better. He was still pale and wasn't as outgoing as he had been at the beginning of the year, but he no longer looked as if he was going to disappear one day without a word.
"Hey Midoriya!"
One of Haru's classmates, Suraba, had approached the boy.
"Have you started working on the project for Midnight's class yet?" he asked.
"No."
"That's great! A few of us were thinking of going to that cafe close to campus to brainstorm about it. You should come with us!"
Haru looked reluctant for a moment, but Suraba kept a bright smile on his face and Haru eventually relented. Aizawa kept an eye on them as they left the room, and was happy to see a small smile on Haru's face. It was definitely progress.
"He's friendly enough, but he hasn't really made friends," he remembered Midnight saying when he asked, "Hound Dog says he's still trying to work through his feelings. The class is respectful about it, giving him his space but still including him. Honestly Shouta, it was a good decision to move him."
She'd then snorted.
"Though I don't think he'll be friendless for long. Suraba's got him in his sights and that boy could turn even the hardest criminals in Tartarus into the best of friends."
It was the best of a bad situation, but Aizawa couldn't really complain. With his things packed, he left to head back to the staff room. For some reason, a few students he passed were muttering something, acting as though they'd just witnessed something scary. It turned out they had, because he turned the corner to find Nezu clutching a flask, a bright grin on his face as he hummed quietly. The principal looked incredibly happy for some reason.
"Do I want to know what's got you so happy?" Aizawa asked, biting the metaphorical bullet.
This wasn't the first time in recent weeks that Nezu had been seen like this. Vlad King was the first to see it, and he'd made a swift retreat to the staff room, making it seem like he'd just come back from a war. While they were happy that Nezu was happy, Nezu being happy didn't usually mean good things.
"Joyous conversation!" Nezu said.
And of course he wouldn't give a straight answer. Aizawa said nothing as the principal passed him, still humming with that grin on his face. It spoke of plots and plans, and corrupt figures in positions of power everywhere felt a tremble even from so far away.
No doubt Nezu would tell them of his plans soon. He usually did, and usually because he was roping them into it in some way. If he had to guess, he'd say it was the rumours that All Might wanted to take up a teaching position at UA, but it could be anything.
Recover Girl may have finally found an apprentice, or Lunch Rush might have been returning to front line heroics. Either option would be better than the number one hero coming to teach at UA.
Aizawa suddenly paused, a feeling that he'd just jinxed himself settled into his bones. The other teachers didn't bat an eye when he made a beeline for the couch and face planted onto it. This was a common enough sight.
"You ok buddy?" Present Mic asked.
A load groan was the only answer.