Chapter Text
Shota is very in touch with his emotions, actually. Despite what his friends, classmates, and Hound Dog have said.
He doesn’t keep a mood journal or attend group therapy sessions of cry along to indie singers- Not that he’s mocking them, he can tell it’s effective, almost too effective, just not for him- but he did attend a single semester of health class when he was 16. So, he counts that as a master’s degree in comparison to everyone who’s incapable of using protection.
And one of the first things he learned in health class through lectures, flashcards, tests, and videos narrated by condescendingly satisfied people were coping mechanisms. Denial, reaction formation, displacement, fill in the rest. Basically, if you’re not crying, you’re coping. Unless you consider crying another form of coping, then he guesses you’re stuck there forever.
But Shota knows what happened. He’s perfectly aware of every poorly timed decision that led up to this situation and so far he hasn’t forced his students to recite a pledge to Nezu, he hasn’t spontaneously taken up knitting, and he hasn’t lashed out at the closest coworker. So as far as he’s concerned, he’s not suppressing any feelings.
Therefore, no. He’s not mad at Midoriya. Obviously.
Because what reason would he have to be miffed at the kid when this is so clearly all Nezu’s fault? The rat probably pulled some disturbing plots like he always does to get the kid as his own student. He may have threatened to expel him, or take over all his social media accounts and turn them into Death Arms fan pages, or ruin his hero career before it’s even started by spreading the rumor that he’s in cahoots with the Commission resistance- which he’s done before.
Seriously, Shota has sat in his office and watched him call agency after agency expressing his sincere concerns that Mr. Metalloid is misusing the access his hero ID grants him to the building to merge himself with locked steel doors and shift in and out of off-limit rooms. The guy’s agency issued a press release stating that he’s retired to Florida and that was the last time he and Zashi ever shouldered the blame for whatever dumb prank Oboro pulled.
But would his student really get scared into submission from something like that? He doesnt think he would, no one in his class would.
The last time they got threatened with expulsion four of them let the message go in one ear and come out the other as there’s a second hand clothing store down the block so why don’t you pick out a few eyesore outfits and chase down Mr. Big Bad who’s got a kill count in the thousands. If rumors spread that they were in any resistance, they might take that as directions to go join one.
And beyond that, Midoriya is Midoriya.
Only-
Shota checked the clock outside the room.
His eyes are complete shit. He cannot see what that says.
He pulled out his phone.
Only 18 hours after Nezu’s threat, Midoriya would have come up with a way around it and then mumbled his plans so loud that All Might would overhear and actually save him from his tragic fate of failure. And yes, failure, because he has a lot of faith in the kid but you can’t defeat something that’s beyond human comprehension.
And since Shota hasn't heard the mumblings of any despicable plans yet, he can safely conclude that nothing like that went down. So if Midoriya’s motivator for accepting the offer wasn’t fear, then it was probably the quest for knowledge.
Except it wasn’t, because seriously, what could a kid (who just by holding a single conversation with him you could tell has had nothing but unwanted free time over the last decade) possibly learn from Nezu? Something that he isn’t scheduled to learn with the rest of the class in due time, already knew it advance, or is currently learning on the side right now. The remaining list is unsurprisingly small.
Javascript, welding in his spare time with Hatsume, color theory so Nemuri won’t blow a fuse over the theater sets not being perfect, even broken Indonesian for every extra minute he spends around the deca-lingual Yaoyorozu. Not to menton the binder of lesson outlines that Shota has planned for the next five months that Midoriya has definitely been targeting ever since he caught a glimpse of it three weeks ago. He’s learned it all, or is scheming to, hence the need for the binder’s own encrypted safe, and he can probably pull off that scheme without Nezu’s help.
So what else is there? Murder? Technically, Shota did provide him a comprehensive if not brief knife throwing class, although not intending to assist in that department even if it did have all the correct components. And if the kid was that distraught over Aoyama’s scream cutting the mini lesson short then he could have said something. Not that it would’ve changed anything, Shota’s still on thin ice with class 1-A’s parents due to both the Kamino disaster and his overall personality, and he doubts a stab wound would help, but still. Doesn’t hurt to rue shit.
But regardless of how he and the other teachers may humor themselves, or gather round to toy with the idea of framing a kid for some random crime just to get some time away from them, they know Midoriya doesn’t actually want to kill people, that’s absurd. Any misconceptions that he does is the fault of his relentless curiosity and accidentally browsing with the school email. It’s opposite of what Midoriya wants and the majority of what Nezu “indirectly” teaches.
If Midoriya wants to save people, then he should ask advice from an actual pro hero. Which, by the way, is his entire curriculum. And if not heroes, then heroes in training, like his classmates.
Then again, his students may know how to rescue people but they aren’t exactly the most educated when it comes to actually treating injuries. Their strong suit is mainly beating up villains so they can prevent the people from getting hurt in the first place, which obviously doesn’t have a 100% success rate.
Like last week when that exhange student started choking on his soba, and since Sato couldn’t assault the sushi itself, he resorted to aiming a sugar fueled punch at the boy’s stomach. The food did come flying out, so he guesses it was effective, but it was still so, so stupid. Plus it put Shouta on thin ice with the parents of kids who weren’t even his students.
In that case, Midoriya should go to people who do know how to deal with wounds, people like Recovery Girl. Or the nurse with the ice pack quirk. Or perhaps one of the other countless nurse practitioners that he literally helped hire. As in conducted-the-interviews-and-physically-pointed-at-his-final-choices-and-brought-them-all-donuts-on-their-first-day helped hire.
Although, he can see why the kid maybe wouldn’t want to go to them for help after recent events.
And he doesn’t mean that the nurses refused to help him. No, that issue has long since been resolved after a couple of vindictive staring contests between Shota and an old lady that made every student avoid a certain corridor for a few days.
Recent events being that both of them conveniently forgot that the speed of which Recovery Girl draws her spheres of influence could almost put Nezu to shame. Within a few days all of the nurses had gone on what can essentially be dumbed down to a half-assed moral strike. They had signs and chants but with words written in almost transparent pencil and lyrics that had no apparent rhyme, beat, or even basic synchronization. He’s not objecting to strikes in general, he’s objecting to the complete lack of effort. It’s people like them who give strikes a bad name.
They announced to the crowd of students gathered in the courtyard that although they would gladly heal whoever required their assistance, they would not accompany the hero students on all their missions. It was above their pay grade and literally not what they went to med school for. It was simple. And with the way he’s phrasing this it probably sounds like he disagrees with their decision, he doesn’t.
He just found it weird that something so obvious needed to be stated, or at least that’s what he thought before Sero and Kaminari started texting panicked reassurances to each other, the exhange student and that scary mushroom girl following soon after.
So, yeah, he guesses Recovery Girl and her new band of minions aren’t exactly up for the position of a medical mentor. And he also guesses that he should stop naming examples if he knows he’s going to contradict them immediately after.
Point is, if the kids wanna save lives, then they shouldn’t rely on slimy rats and instead start from the basics, like first aid. So that’s what they’re doing today, something that Shota hopes will… not show the kid the light at the end of Nezu’s dark tunnel, per say, that doesn’t really exist, but provide a band-aid for when that light inevitably tries to burn him alive.
“First aid.”
Shota took a moment to let the others digest his words before breaking his gaze and bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips.
“What about it?” Nemuri asked. Shota lowered the coffee.
“That’s the plan.” He brought it back up.
“Isn’t that a little spontaneous of you?” He put the cup back down on the table. Midoriya raised his head from where it was stuffed between the pages of his notebook, large eyes moving between his two teachers while they silently squabbled.
“How so?”
“Well,” Nemuri quickly retracted her legs from where they were sprawled out on his desk, sitting up straight to give the facade of an actual professional. “Why jump straight to first aid when there are so many other things we could be working on? Right?” She turned to Midoriya, the boy flashing a questioning look his way when he didn’t know how to respond.
“Uhhh yeah, yeah! The list was developed early on- like really early, like last year-” Shota nodded, although in a lot of his coworker’s cases it was 15 years.
If someone checked the filing cabinets with complains dating back all the way to his first year at UA, they’d find passionately inscribed notes about how only selling Ma- Sorry, Might Bars as candy in the vending machines was monopolistic. Technically they still can’t do anything about that if they want the chocolate bar company to continue their donations, but nothing can’t stop them from being peeved.
“-but it’s not set in stone, the whole point is to add as we go. And since three people sprained their ankle yesterday and thought the best solution was to shake it off, this feels like an appropriate time to do some medical training… I think. But in a hypothetical situation where that wasn’t a time-sensitive problem, yes.”
Midoriya may have some more things to learn if he thinks that alone will satiate the beast. The message Like what? slithered across Nemuri’s eyes in neon lights and the boy coughed.
“There’s getting construction plans approved for those two new elevators. Or handling the potential partnership with that clothing brand that offered to give major discounts on school uniform manufacturing if the hero students would promote their shoes.”
At least the email infiltrating lessons from Hatsume are clearly paying off, and with any luck Midoriya can improve in time to avoid being given a masterclass by Nezu. Vaguely, Shota recognizes hacking emails is bad and he should say something about it. But less vaguely, he thinks about how much he doesn’t care. The boy’s eyes grew distant.
“Or releasing the wifi password that the business students started hogging,” He continued. “Or fixing the broken air conditioners on the third floor. There’s also corrupt sales manager of the Clip Mart across the street that refused to keep selling students any more of their clear post-its even though I’m— we’re obviously their most loyal customer, since apparently he—“ The kid made quotation marks with his fingers, lowering his voice to mimic the owner, “‘could make a bigger profit if we’d stop buying all his stock in bulk the moment it gets delivered.’ And he ’doesn’t know how we keep finding the delivery schedule but it ends now.’ So we have to buy the other post-its instead—blue ones. Like we need any more statement pieces. Which is crazy because how can you even read the letters-”
Midoriya cut himself off with a sharp inhale as the chair he was sitting in was pushed by a black combat boot, leaving him spinning around in silence and right out the office doors. Ectoplasm shut them behind him.
“And much more!” Nemuri’s hands flew in front of her, waving around like she was concocting a vision to him, “Like, let’s say, an art exhibit.”
“There’s one on the third floor.” Shota cut in.
“A theatre production!”
“Be more specific.”
“A theatre production on the dangers of an unknown forest!”
“They already tried that.”
“The dangers of strangers.”
“The strangers were actually in the forest."
“The dangers of cults.”
“Tried that, too. It didn’t last five minutes in the PTA meeting. Didn’t last five minutes in the forest, either, if I read the script correctly.” This one he was a little disappointed about. Whether it was because he thinks it’s a serious issue that many people should learn about, or because he wanted to take the opportunity to throw a paper ball at Nezu every time a person got tricked into ruining their life, is not something he is willing to disclose.
“The dangers of too loose clothing!”
“Why would we ever want to do that?” He asked quietly. “Who would even come to that? What is the target audience in all of your—”Clearly self-interested “-ideas?”
“A song and dance we perform to the whole school during a festival filled with haunted houses and treats.”
“We did that too—Were you here for anything last year? Genuinely, where were you?” Midnight held up a finger and Shota decided that perhaps the 15th straw should be the last. “We’re doing first aid. Not just because it’s obvious that first aid in a hero school should have been prioritized during their first year, or because I have anything against your theater productions-”
That’s a lie, he has everything against them. They make him stay an extra three hours late at this hellhole because he can’t do paperwork and make sure the tech crew kids don’t power saw their limbs off at the same time. He can’t walk through a hallway without finding splotches of blue paint on his clothes that don’t come off in the wash because of course they don’t. And every forty-five minutes one of the kids’ bad playlists resets and he has to go through the Hamilton soundtrack all over again. If he had a nickel for every time he’s considered using the costume crew’s measuring tape as a noose, he’d have enough money to buy them three more measuring tapes so they could stop trying to paint lines and numbers on his capture weapon whenever they lose theirs.
"—But because I can’t say for sure that if we don’t teach them now, while we still have the ability to gather them all in one place without internships and patrols getting in the way, they may never have the chance to learn it again.” Shota's eyes danced across the room, passing over every other teacher in the room, just obvious enough for Nemuri to catch his hidden message: Especially not from them.
Nemuri finally backed down, that was one thing she couldn’t argue with. Majima glanced up from his computer.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing.” He turned back around to the whiteboard just as Midoriya rolled back in. Perfect timing. “Now, first aid.”
“My man,” Shouta let his head drop back to stare at the ceiling while Majima’s voice continued to cut through his brainstems. “You don’t need our approval to teach first-aid to your class, and I’m sure you already knew that since you use the UA employee handbook like Eri’s bedtime story—”
“Go to hell?”
“-so why did you gather us here?”
“Because it’s not just my class in the second year hero department, Majima,” Shota tried to tune out the sound of Vlad’s humming in agreement, all it did was make him doubt his position. “Vlad’s class needs this lesson just as much as mine does. As does Thirteen’s class and Ishiyama’s and Snipe’s—Letting one class learn something while the rest don’t get the chance to is just unhelpful. Not to mention very, very likely to cause internal issues with one another.”
Vlad stopped humming by this time, already silenced by the look on the Eraser hero’s face, but he nodded nonetheless. They might have issues with each other but they could at least agree that more tension between their classes was the last thing either of them needed, the aftermath of the USJ and sports festival being enough proof of that. As good of a hero-in-training that Monoma kid was, they didn’t need first-aid lessons adding more fuel to his already wildly insensitive fire.
And that’s ignoring Shinsou’s weird fight instigating tendencies for altercations that don’t even involve him.
They’re not amusing, they’re really not. He doesn’t know what about him suggests he believes otherwise to people.
“Hence why I need all of your approval before I go forward.” He concluded.
Technically, he didn’t actually need their approval. Screw Majima but he does read the UA employee handbook on a semi-regular basis, semi-regular turned regular during the course of last week’s events. He’s read it enough to know that vice principals here can make as many changes to the curriculum they want around here (Tyrannical, he’s aware. But what did he expect?) as long as The Rat signs off on it.
Which he will, on anything Shota brings to him, because it’s not the consequences that he cares about, it’s the entertainment of seeing how Shota is gonna have to fight those consequences off tooth and nail to get himself out of the PTA’s wrath unscathed. Which he won’t.
But technically he’d rather jump through flaming hoops getting the teachers themselves to sign off on the curriculum changes than have to find some natural, conversational way to bring up the fact that he was promoted to a position not a single one of them knew existed here, not even himself. He’d just assumed the “vice principal” position mentioned in the handbook was Nezu’s way of making it seem to the HPSC like his power was absolutely being checked and balanced at the school.
It wasn’t, in case that wasn’t clear. And it still isn’t, in case anything he’s ever said made someone think otherwise.
“But just because all I’m asking for is a go ahead that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to compromise,”
Shota tapped the dry erase marker he was holding against the surface behind him, geasturing to the whiteboard covered in arrows, circles, and distinctive chicken scratch handwriting on blue post—Oh, the kid was right, he can barely see the marks on those. Jesus, who would buy this shit? He could see Midoriya making the right? gesture from where he’d snuck in through the door in the back of the room, still in the rolling chair.
“I’m aware it’s not as simple as just rounding all the students up in one place and teaching them the same thing; you guys all had your own lesson plans that would eventually cover this subject, so all this might do is get in the way of that. But I really do think it’s necessary to teach them all at the same time, that way they can help each other through any confusion without our direct assistance.” Which is something they’ll need to do as adults during medical emergencies, too. “So if any of this doesn’t mesh well with what you guys had planned, feel free to—” Shouta ignored the sour taste in his mouth at letting these people run free. “—make some changes or offer alternatives. Anything…you feel is important.” And with that, he leaned back against the board, waiting for his coworkers to barrage him with suggestions.
He received silence.
“Really.” Shota stated again. He had already braced himself for this, had already told Midoriya to write it all down no matter how stupid it is, just to have it on record if he needs to defend any retaliatory actions of his, but there’s not much he can do if no one speaks up. “I’m open to anything.”
Thirteen scratched the screen of their helmet. Majima’s eyes drifted towards the door. Nemuri grinned.
“You have no plans at all.” He breathed out. Silence again. Shota placed the marker down and chose his next words carefully. “I can’t believe i’m asking this, but have any of you, at any point in time, ever told your students or at least heavily implied that you should shove something in the mouth of a person having a seizure so they don’t bite off their tongue?”
More silence. And then, a hand.
Shouta put the marker down.
“It’s not my fault, okay? I just—I’m not used to helping out with that kind of thing! And why should I be? Why should any of us be? We’re not doctors, we’re pro-heroes. Right? Kayama, am I—” The redhead turned to the sight of Nemuri rolling her chair a little farther away from him, eyes communicating that there were many times in which she would love to be associated with Majima, this very moment not being one of them. Majima turned back to Shota. "If anything, this is the commission’s fault.”
“No this is your fault, Majima, you are a grown man—” Nemuri slid a little further away.
“I’m a mechanic, Eraser. I build machines. So if it’s really necessary, my robots can do all my first-aid for me.”
“Can they teach for you, too?”
There weren’t many things Majima could say in defense to that. Or rather, anything he could say that would actually be true. And he could sense fifty more viscerating comments from Shota hurtling his way from a distance. But the one thing he was right about was that he was a mechanic, a mechanic who could build things pretty well. And while it’s clear that seizure assistance and teaching weren’t included in his machines’ skill sets, lifting an arm was.
Majima’s suit—recently upgraded—was pointing a figure before Shota could interrogate the excavation hero any further.
“Ectoplasm has never actually done first-aid on site.” Majima blurted. “He just stays with the person while a clone runs off screaming for help from an actual nurse.”
Shota’s gaze slowly drifted to the hero in question, face carefully impassive.
“What?”
“AT LEAST I’M DOING SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE.” Ectoplasm shouted, rolling his chair away from Majima as well. His bumped into Midoriya’s and sent the kid spinning again.
“You’re saying that this entire ti—”
Ectoplasm whipped his head to Ishiyama, marking the end of their book club.
“CEMENTOSS ISN’T ALLOWED NEAR INCAPACITATED VICTIMS ANYMORE BECAUSE EVERY TIME HE DOES CPR HE DOES EVEN MORE DAMAGE.”
"But Ishiyama doesn’t have hands," Shouta says, beginning to doubt the sincerity of this chain reaction of exposure. “How could he even attempt to…?”
He glanced at the man, just for the sound of grinding cement to fill the room as he looked away.
“Snipe’s been sued five separate times for reckless endangerment of a civilian because he doesn’t realize that emotional support is ineffective if there’s a gun pointing at their face the entire time.” The cement hero responded calmly, as if he’d just been waiting his turn. Snipe for his part just shrugged.
“Not much I can say to that. It’s becoming a real problem.”
“Many would say it already is.” Midoriya supplied thoughtfully.
“The first time it happened the girl just started confessing all her wrongdoings to me. Second time the guy ended up pulling out his own gun?”
“You emotionally supported the criminal.” Shota’s throat felt raw.
“It’s called rehabilitation, Eraser. And then the rest was actually on the same day. Family of three, three separate case filings—That one stung. Hurt my online presence a bit, too, I even considered going private for a second.”
“Have you ever considered just taking off the mask.” Snipe snorted at the not-question.
“That’d hurt my online presence even more.”
“What is the mask even doing for you, Snipe?” Shota asked, although knowing better than to expect an actual answer. “We know your identity, everyone knows your identity. All it’s done for you so far is have you banned from seven countries and kicked out of airports.”
“Am I crazy or did we…already attempt to teach them this?” Vlad interrupted. Shota stared at him while Thirteen rolled off to join Nemuri and Ectoplasm in their isolated corner. “Disaster training at the USJ, remember?”
“No, Kan, I’ve completely forgotten. Remind me.”
The blood hero’s hand fell back down to his lap.
“Personally, I think driving is more important.” Hound Dog yawned out from his spot by the espresso machine.
Shota’s stare went blank and before Midoriya could ask whether or not that counted as a legitimate suggestion to write down, his teacher’s capture weapon was looped around the back of his head to cover both his ears.
“Personally,” Shota started, “I think that I’ve already been seen unloading at least fifteen dummies from my trunk, and if I don’t demonstrate heart failure on them soon, who knows what story people will come up with to explain it. I think those dummies cost money coming directly from the school budget, and too many props that took too much time to develop have already been made for this. I think that first-aid is literally part of the curriculum. I think this has serious PR stakes that can and will cost all of you all of your jobs if a UA student is seen in the ER for choking on crab of all fucking things because the chunks were too large and not one trainee or teacher in the most prestigious hero school in Japan knew how to do the Heimlich maneuver without breaking a rib and puncturing a lung.”
“Must I bear this cross forever?!” Lunch Rush snapped.
“I think I’ve already roped too many people into this to go back now. I think your approval meant jackshit anyway for whether or not I go through with this plan, which I will.” Hizashi tilted his head. “Hound Dog, I think you’re only prioritizing driving lessons because you can’t commit the easiest crime of jaywalking without getting distracted by a squirrel and causing five different car accidents. And I think people will die if we don’t teach them this lesson.” Shota let the capture weapon leave his student’s ears and fall back around his shoulders. A beat of silence passed.
“Ughhhh,” Nemuri groaned, “is that your only reason?”
"It’s the only reason I need—"
The sound of a door creaking open cut them off, Sero’s face appearing on the other side and depicting utter bafflement at the scene before him before remembering what he came for.
“Kaminari’s in the nurse’s office… Kirishima said he burned himself this morning trying to make eggs, which would’ve been an easy fix if he hadn’t rubbed, uh, butter on the wound right after? He’s fine, I think, he’s in Recovery Girl’s room, but his wound’s infected now. So, yeah, just came to let you know… Bye.”
The office was engulfed in silence for a few moments after the boy left until Shota got out of his leaning position to make his way to Recovery Girl, nodding at Midoriya and leaving one last message.
“I hate all of you.”
And he was gone.
Midoriya waited till the door was fully shut behind him before pulling out a stack of permission slips from Shota’s desk drawer, holding out one of them to Vlad for him to read. But before 2-B’s homeroom teacher could take the paper from the student’s grasp, the boy tightened his grip and leaned in with a gleaming smile.
“Sign.”
“I wanna start off by saying that I think it’s incredible how much we’ve all been through in the last year and a half.”
There have been complications during his class’ previous attempts to participate in a shared lesson, that much is true. Like the time they tried forming a bridge with class 1-B only for blackwhip to start bursting out of Izuku’s skin in mid air, freaking the hell out of Shinsou. Which, yeah, was his fault, if not the fault of the silly little ghosts living in his subconscious.
“We went from naive, starry-eyed children with nothing more than a crude costume sketch and a dream to the more experienced hero students we are now.”
Or that time his class really did follow through on the shared lesson idea with the Ketsubutsu kids, which was going pretty well until Ms. Joke’s comments reached a new extreme and Aizawa-sensei left her hanging from the ceiling for eight hours into the night, daring any of them to help her down.
It got them banned for the next year and his teacher for life, much to Ms. Joke’s disappointment, not that the guy cared. Looked pretty ecstatic about it actually. Although he looked much less ecstatic when Ashido started throwing snotty paper tissues at him because now she couldn’t visit the best friend she had just made there.
Again, Izuku blames Ms. Joke, but in the eyes of the law that was technically Aizawa’s fault, who doesn’t exactly have any inner spirits he can blame his actions on. Unless Joke counted as an inner spirit. Hah! Yeah. The more Izuku talks about this the less qualified he thinks either of them are to proceed with this lesson.
“From the opening ceremony to the sports festival, from haunted houses and candy apples to a song and dance, we’ve spent some of the most crucial moments of our formative years together. And with that in mind, I think it’d be more accurate to call us family rather than just mere classmates.”
But what he’s trying to say is that even though they have a terrible history with these kinds of things, which may just boil down to inherent personality flaws rather than a victim of circumstance, Izuku firmly believes that this time will be different. Joke isn’t here, he’s pretty sure no more surprise quirks are awaiting him, and from whatever happened in the brief period of time that Izuku couldn’t see nor hear in the teacher’s lounge that led to none of the teachers making eye contact with each other- He thinks they’ve finally eliminated all stupid threats to this lesson.
And that’s rare, that’s good, this lesson is good. Not just for their education, but for their sanity, too.
Maybe this’ll finally be the day Monoma lays off, which in turn will be the day 2-B lays off, which might stop Shinsou from whispering to Bakugo that if it were him he wouldn’t let another class speak to him that way. And best of all, this could be the day class 2-A and 2-B finally, finally, learn the names of the kids in classes C, D, and E instead of acting like they’re the only two classes to exist.
“Take a look at what we’ve accomplished together during our time here, too. We’ve sought out internships, got our licenses, been through at least one work study- It’s a lot of things to take pride in. And one other thing we should take pride in?”
He doesn’t say that in an insulting way, it includes him, too, after all. It’s from a purely observational standpoint of a frankly incredible phenomenon that has occurred for just under two years: Never clearly seeing the faces of anyone else in this school beyond the same 40 people around him.
2-C, D, and E were all out on some field trip the day joint training took place, a flu spread between them during last year’s sports festival and prevented the rest of the world from seeing their faces either, then the same flu doubled back again during the school festival- That’s really the only reason Eri was able to get as many candy apples as she did. The consumer market was absolutely obliterated.
Anyway, like he said, it’s been a while since he got a good look at those classes’ faces. But he could see them pretty clearly right now, and jesus christ they looked angry
Probably because as good as a lesson as this is, he’s not sure Aizawa-sensei should be the one leading it.
“The fact that you haven’t killed anyone yet. Matter of fact, be proud that you somehow haven’t gotten yourselves killed yet either. Truly, it’s a wonder. I would have expected half of you to be floating face down in a lake by now or at least actively shoving someone’s head in a puddle as we sp—That’s a little harsh.”
His teacher hurled his empty coffee into the trash and walked out from his dark shadow in the fake city’s alley way, plucking the speaking notes- That he wrote, by the way- from his student’s hands on his way to the front of the crowd of teenagers. Aizawa-sensei paused for a moment to applaud him for his efforts.
“What was that?” He asked.
In his own little way.
Izuku deflated, “I thought if I added some heart in the beginning I could soften the blow.”
“You might’ve made things worse,” His teacher eyed the crushed souls of countless children, “Whenever authoritarian systems refer to themselves as a family it signals nothing good will happen, they must’ve sensed that.”
“I don’t think the family part is what did it.”
“Emotion is subjective.” He glided past Izuku into the front of the crowd.
Izuku didn’t need to be told twice. He was twenty feet away and back to the task list Aizawa-sensei gave him before the man even finished his sentence. He’d already duct taped over the mouths of dummies—Where even are they?—and fought off pigeons, and all that was left was to… Start pouring water on the ground?
He knows he told Aizawa-sensei that he wanted to learn with the other students this time, and just help out with a few menial things rather than get a bunch of cheat codes on the lesson, but this was just weird.
“You’ve all done good work this year, no one doubts that.” Aizawa-sensei began. “But when it comes to first aid you know nothing. And if you do know something, you know it wrong.”
“WE KNOW STUFF!” A kid yells—No, Masuda. Masuda from 2-D. Masuda from 2-D yells out. The erasure hero doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Someone gets stabbed and you’re the only one there. Do you take out the knife or not?”
Masuda sits down.
“Like I was saying- If you continue at this rate, you’ll get someone killed, okay? That’s just what’s gonna happen. And sure, it’s not completely your fault, if anything you can say it’s the fault of your school for not adding it to your curriculum last year. Or the fault of me and the rest of your teachers for not instructing you on it sooner regardless of that curriculum. Or, once again, the fault of your teachers for feeding you direct misinformation—“ Why was he so dead set on stoking flames of a protest? “And I guarantee you it’s in your best interest to assume that anything that has been taught to you during your time at UA about first aid at all is misinformation.”
“BOOOOO! GET HIM OFF THE STAGE!”
The formerly trashed coffee smacks the side of his teacher’s head. It didn’t seem like it caught him off guard, he very clearly saw it coming, he just didn’t stop it. But something like that was below his pay grade even before he became the vice principal. Do vice principals get a raise? Would Aizawa-sensei even notice?
Aizawa stares at Midnight-sensei until she, too, sits down.
“And you can point fingers all you want—really, it’s encouraged. Bring a guillotine and put us out of our misery.” Aizawa continues, muttering the last sentence. Jirou gives him a flat look. “Accountability is a valuable thing to have. But unfortunately, pointing fingers will get you nowhere when you’re on site and a civilian starts bleeding out. Therefore, it’s our hope that we can quickly and efficiently get through safety training and save the much needed blame game for another day. For all of your guys’ benefit.”
The students fidget, not quite sure what to do with themselves now that they weren’t being ruthlessly insulted. They’d expected a lot of things when Aizawa-sensei took charge of the lesson just now, but something… calm, wasn’t one of them. They didn’t even look angry anymore, just tranquilized.
Huh. Maybe Aizawa-sensei could be a morale uplifter.
All Might-sensei took the newfound serenity as his cue to move, straying from the crowd of heroics teachers to take the underground hero’s place at the front of the classes. And he’s just five steps away, his notecards- For a speech hopefully untainted by Aizawa’s controversial influence- already slid out from the mysterious latex pocket and ready to make the rest of the staff throw even more coffee when—
“But this isn’t just a lesson.” The Eraser hero says suddenly, pausing again for another moment as if he doesn’t quite know where he was going with that either, but it just had to get out.
Well, this is off script.
All Might takes a few hesitant steps back and Izuku stops dumping the water buckets.
“Lessons are great and all,” His homeroom teacher says next, finally finding his words. “But for something as high stakes as this, it’s important to see that those lessons have conse—Those lessons are not just textbook memorization and religious note taking. It’s imperative that you all apply what’s shown here in real life, and apply it without error. Therefore. Every lesson that is taught here today will also be a sort of… test.”
Of course.
“Performances will be heavily monitored and recorded, a scoring system will be kept in place—”
His eyes flick to the Izuku and flick back when he receives a thumbs up. Izuku’s got no complaints about score keeping, but he hopes Aizawa-sensei realizes that he was raised on the idea that free labor is permission for self-interested labor. What data goes in his notebook is private property for all intents and purposes once this lesson is over.
“-and there will be an established wall of shame.” His creativity seemed to pick up all of a sudden, now much more satisfied with his spontaneous lesson changed. And to think all it took was an added stress factor. “Small yes-no decisions can change the course of a life, after all, better not regret it.”
He’s got his goggles back on today, so it’d be impossible to tell, but Izuku’s got eight ghosts milling about in his mind, shifting around his thoughts like puzzle pieces and prodding at his senses, letting him see the unseen. And he could’ve sworn his teacher’s gaze passed over him while he spoke.
Jesus christ, fine, he’ll get rid of the data.
“And-“ A whistle materializes from under the man’s capture weapon and in the next two seconds there’s a deep breath, a piercing noise, and the thump of a 150 pound dummy falling from the sky and crashing against the concrete just one foot shy of where Izuku’s kneeling.
The hero student looks up. Uraraka’s mom gives a peace sign from upon her construction crane. He gives one back.
“—there will be no more speeches.”
~~
“Before you administer any sort of first aid, or even so much as wave for help, it’s important that you assess the scene first. Otherwise, in your attempts to save a life, you could make things worse.”
Aizawa-sensei stood next to the dummy as he spoke, the one so eloquently labeled ‘ Dead Injured Civilizan 4.’ Where were the other three? Probably hanging somewhere from a crane by Uraraka’s mom. Why was Uraraka’s mom helping Aizawa-sensei drop dummies from a crane? Well, it’s not unusual for parents in Japan to go above and beyond in their PTA duties.
But when had Aizawa asked her to help out with that? Why was Uraraka’s mom his first thought for recruitment? Why did he find it necessary to drop it from so goddamn hi—?
“And there are three basic priorities for when you’re assessing the scene, so pay attention.” No, he doesn’t think he will, he’s still got unanswered questions. Izuku stared raptly at the demonstration anyhow from his place within the formed circle of students around the dummy. “Figuring out what happened, checking for hazards, and deciding what to do next- And you need to go about it as quickly as possible while remaining level-headed as you wait for emergency services to arrive. Which, although depending on where you are the time could vary, should be about 8 minutes and 54 seconds. And no, I won’t be rounding up to 9. So,” Aizawa-sensei looked to him and Izuku started the stopwatch. “Time starts now. Monoma, what can you tell us about your surroundings? Big picture.”
The boy maneuvered through the crowed to step up to the dummy, turning in circles while he scanned the fake city.
“We’re between a couple establishments, a dry cleaners and a real estate business. The sun’s out, but it’s February, so it’s cold and windy. And… there’s a body lying down on the ground, seemingly unconscious.”
“Great. Two points for a good examination, minus one point for trying to build suspense.” Aizawa said, ignoring Monoma’s groan and encouraging everyone else to do the same. Izuku locked in on the scene, eyes darting between them and the score board he was supposed to be keeping. What kind of point gouging system is this? “Todoroki, build off what he said. Look for smaller details this time, think in terms of possible dangers.”
“The body is on the sidewalk, so, it is… not on the road. This is good. Like Monoma said, they are lying on the sidewalk, but they are face down and most of their weight is on their right side. Which is…” The boy trailed off.
“Which is what?”
“Not good.”
“…Alright. Two points, I guess. Shinsou, take it from there. Try to explain your statements.” Shinsou shoved past Bakugo to get to the front—relying on Kirishima to tug the other boy back—and rested his hands on his knees in a squat to take a closer look.
“They’re not on the road, so they won’t be getting run over any time soon, but face down and on their right side against concrete definitely isn’t the best position to be in for CPR.”
“Correct.” Aizawa said, cueing Izuku to give him a point. “For the recovery position, they should either be on their back for CPR or on their left side to get any liquids out of their system. Two points.”
“But then again, we don’t know what’s happened to them yet… kind of impossible to determine the hazards then, wouldn’t you say?”
“Minus one point for questioning my lesson order.”
A very questionable gouging system.
“Uh-huh. The dummy’s got quite a few layers on. All I can see is a puffer jacket, but if you went through the hassle of putting clothes on this thing then there’s probably an undershirt too. There’s—Hey, do students count as civilians in this scenario?”
Aizawa stared.
“Sure.”
Izuku narrowed his eyes, hesitantly writing again. +1 for creativity(?)
“There’s a lot of people crowding around the body, which could pose as a threat if it stops medical help. There’s a questionable individual dressed in black standing over it. too, suspiciously close to the dummy’s jacket pocket. His arms are crossed, but that could just mean he’s hiding something—The dummy’s wallet that he stole, perhaps?”
Aizawa stared harder, “Plus three points for in-depth observations, minus ten points for disrespecting your elders.”
“I should at least get another seven for critical thinking.” Shinsou scoffed. Aizawa-sensei didn’t give him an inch.
“The assignment was to check for hazards and threats.”
“Yourself withstanding?.”
“Oh, no.” Aizawa-sensei breathed a laugh and Shinsou stopped smiling. Izuku had the hunch he wasn’t feeling very safe from threats right now, either. “No.”
“HAHA!” All Might danced a little on his way to the front of Aizawa, bright smile and painfully obvious beads of sweat running down his neck. “Such an analytical mind, that one! Does anyone else have something they’d like to add?” Ashido stepped forward.
“The body’s on the sidewalk, which like, yeah, is a good thing compared to the middle of the road, I guess. But this sidewalk is wayyy dirty—I see blackened gum and dogshit over there.”
“Minus one point for language. Plus two for bringing to attention the pollution that dog owners manage to make in a city that’s not even real,” Izuku awarded. He thinks he’s managed to figure the point-giving system out by now: be objective, but also be biased? It’s a pretty counteractive point system now that he thinks about it, and for once he’s gonna use up more of his eraser than his lead, but it’s simple. He just has to be a dictator.
Kaminari appeared in a flash behind Ashido.
“The cafe next to the dry cleaner’s is radiating a scent, sort of like a pumpkin spice one, which totally could have drawn this person in—“
“Once again, hazards. We’re checking for hazards. We’re figuring out what happened after.”
“—but scents can be deceiving!” Kaminari continued and he was sprinting into the cafe before anyone could stop him. The one for all user slowly flipped to a different page.
“So are we switching the lesson order…?” Aizawa-sensei sighed.
“Sure.”
A minute passes before Kaminari comes back out with disposable coffee cup in one hand and a menu in the other, the liquid spilling all over his arm while he ran. The boy wasted no time after reaching them, nudging the drink at Todoroki.
“Here, try.”
He took a decently long sip, and it was in moments like these that Izuku almost regrets trying to open his friend’s mind up to new media and treats. He should at least question the food someone shoves in his face and tells him to eat.
“This is… not good.”
“I knew it. The coffee’s total ass.” Izuku subtracted a point. “There’s just so much caffeine in this that you need to add crazy amounts of cream and sugar for it to be a quarter of the way digestible. Todoroki’s sip alone was already three times the daily recommended amount.”
“That’s really not good.” Izuku said belatedly.
“It can’t be a coincidence,” Kaminari continued, “The cafe’s gotta have something to do with this guy’s death.”
“He’s not dead.” Aizawa called out, his shouts falling on deaf ears.
“But assuming it does,” Ashido picked up where Kaminari left off, wagging her finger like he’s onto something. “Assuming this guy was a regular and it took more than a few visits and high dosages to kill him-“
“Nothing killed him.”
“—why’d he let the scent keep fooling him? Why’d he keep adding sugar if he knew it’d never be enough? It’s impossible, he’d at least learn his lesson by the third day.”
“Are you guys actually fucked in the head?” Kacchan asked from next to him and okay, that’s a little much. It’s also a little hurtful how that of all things is what got the faceless students to start muttering shared sentiments and working together, almost pushing Izuku back into the sea of teenagers when they aggressively started saddling up behind the explosive boy.
“Kacchan,” He panted when he finally fought against the tide, a hand placed on his classmate’s shoulder. “You have to be—! Constructive—!”
Kacchan huffed and shifted, letting him through to get to where Ashido and Kaminari were stuck in their own world, and not blowing his face off when Izuku wordlessly asked him to hold his notebook for a second, his way of being considerate. They’ve come so far.
“Guys, I respect your observations, but let’s try to take this seriously, alright?” He asked and the two sighed. Izuku swiped the menu into his hands suddenly and placed it a centimeter from Kaminari’s eyes. “The prices, THEY’RE SO CHEAP. THAT’S WHAT DREW HIM IN.”
“You’re a piece of shit, Deku.“
“The deceased—“
“He’s not deceased, kid.” Aizawa had his head in his hands now, and Izuku would worry if he wasn’t already too occupied with the case.
“—had obviously reached a new low in his life, hence why he’s been forced to resort to the cheap, albeit aromatic, and foul tasting coffee. Question is, what put him in this economic position in the first place?” It’s not like Izuku had the person’s banking statements with him, nor did he think any teachers would offer up their credit card to be used as a prop which he could call the bank of to make a financial statement on the dummy’s behalf. One thing he might have, though? “Shishida, check his wallet!”
Izuku’s teacher watched quietly as the beast quirked kid smacked around the back of the jacket until he felt a lump where the wallet is, proceeding to manhandle the corpse until he got the jacket off and the wallet out. The dummy was splayed out on its back with twisted limbs by the end of the assault.
And really, that was when his teacher’s silence and shadowy-ness started to get concerning. But in the next second Shinsou gasped in fake shock at the revelation that the wallet was not, in fact, in Aizawa-sense’s pocket, and that at least managed to get the man to take up his usual expression of hating everyone and everything.
Izuku caught the wallet Shishida threw to him, sifting through the contents until he found something akin to a clue of what his identity was. No ID, but there was a business card. All it had were the words ‘Contracting Department Manager’ on it and a small continuous line drawing of a book with flowers coming out of it as the company logo, so not a very good business card, but still. He passed it over to Iida.
“Quick, scan the lobbies of the buildings around here for anything that might replicate this logo.”
He was back in five seconds, directing the group’s eyes to a beige brick building covered in windows across the street.
“Mighty Publishing House, building directory says they’ve got a contracting department on the fourth floor.”
“THAT’S IT!” Ashido screamed, “The guy’s a contractor for a publishing company! Those people work like 30 hours of overtime a month! And they don’t even get paid that much for it!” Jirou squinted.
“Why do you-“
“I failed Zawa-sensei’s quirk law quiz last semester and started looking for alternative career paths and their hours. God, Kyouka, get over it. Anyway, no wonder the guy’s drinking cheap, shitty coffee, he’s gotta save up to quit.” She held up the cup she’d taken back from Todoroki, “Every morning he’d get his drink, and he’d probably get a few more throughout the day just to keep himself functioning. After all that excess sugar and caffeine it’d be inevitable that his… HIS HEART GAVE OUT! HEART ATTACK! THAT’S IT! THAT’S MY FINAL ANSWER! HOW’D WE DO ZAWA-SENSEI?!”
It was when the Eraser hero finally slid his hands off his face did Izuku realize that he’d kind of been treating this like one of those monthly subscription mystery cases, all of them had. And somewhere along the way Ashido, and Ashido alone, deluded herself into treating it like a game show. Now floating in a sort of post-detection clarity, he sobered up enough to acknowledge that he didn’t think the cafe actually had anything to do with this, and the business card was most likely just one of the teachers’ attempts to make this simulation a little more realistic. The complexity of this lesson probably started and ended the moment the dummy hit the gr-
“100% right, good job.”
“Huh?”
Aizawa raised an eyebrow and walked over to Kacchan, taking the notebook and tossing it to Izuku. Kacchan had given no resistance, the object slipping easily out of his hands while he stared at where it used to be.
“I said good job, every statement was accurate. In a gross violation of labor laws, this individual’s boss forced them to complete one too many hours of overtime, desecrating the sacred history of workers’ unions along the way. Hence, the cafe, the coffee, and heart failure. Just goes to show how awful employers can be, doesn’t it?” This lesson had interesting themes. “So congrats, 20 points each for Kaminari, Ashido, and Midoriya, and 5 points for Iida and Shishida. Great observational skills.”
Aizawa checked his timer.
“And now he’s dead.” The smile fell and the stomachs of the students fell along with it. “Kaminari and Ashido, you figured it out, but you also completely ignored the actual assignment, which was to identify hazards. Minus 5 each. Shinsou, you found a few hazards, though not all of which were right, but you also began the shift into forgetting the hazard lesson in the first place.” Shinsou smirked.
Ever the instigator.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa continued. Izuku’s eyes went even wider. “You helped solve it, but you completely bypassed the perfect opportunity to move back into the hazards lesson. Minus 5, then minus another one because I’m bitter. You all ignored the dangers, ran off more than once at the most vital moments, and so the victim died. And what I’m getting from this is that none of you respect the lesson plan, nor do you respect the whiteboard.” His eyes grew dark. “But you will. Midoriya- the score board, please”
“Oh, right! Uhhh,” He checked th… this isn’t the right page. Since when did he get here? He flipped forward. “Monoma, 1 point. Ashido, 16 points. Shinsou, -6. Iida, 5. Bakugo, -1.”
“The fuck?”
“-2. Me, 14. Kaminari, 14. Todoroki, 2. Shishida, 5… I think that’s it?”
“One small change; Shishida, 0. You lose 5 points for shaking the victim in a medical emergency.” Shishida threw his hands up.
“I put him in the CPR position, though?”
“If I push you off a building and you land in the recovery position does that mean you’re saved?” Shishida lowered his hands and Aizawa-sensei sighed, nodding his head at someone behind the crowd.
It must have been some signal that was made in the period of time that Izuku lost access to his hearing in the teachers lounge, because Thirteen was rolling over a whiteboard a second later.
And a few more seconds later, Ashido’s name was written on the left side in big, capital letters. Shinsou’s name written in smaller, lowercase letters to the right.
“Ashido, congrats. You’re on top for now.”
“What’s the prize?”
“Who knows, claim a building in this city and Cementoss will engrave your name on it.” Ever the Robinhood. “Shinsou, I’d put you somewhere lower if I could.”
Shinsou wiped a fake tear from his cheek and wiped a few more when he saw how dead Aizawa-sensei looked. His teacher reset the timer back to 0 and started it up.
“Let’s try this again. This time, focus on the hazards. Masuda, you’re up.”
Silence.
Aizawa looked up from the timer.
“Masuda?” The boy looked stunned.
“You know my name?” He reset it again.
“…Yaoyorozu, you’re up.” She crouched down near the dummy.
“There’s a water spill pretty close to the body, which could pose a threat in the case that we need to make use of a defibrillator. There’s also quite a lot of spilled coffee nearby, too, which can be a danger, as well. However, the jacket was taken off, freeing up the mobility of the individual, and they’re no longer in an uncomfortable position.” She stood up, “I’d say that’s it for now.”
“Good, three points.” He paused the timer. “Now, given what we know about the cause of injury and the potential safety risks around us, what’s the most logical next step?”
All four classes harmoniously called out ‘CPR’ in that typical annoyed teenage voice. It was kind of sweet how much they were bonding.
“Yeah alright. But adding on to that, because of the multiple liquid spills, using a defibrillator isn’t in our best interest. Don’t wanna electrocute them, after all. And for…” Aizawa-sensei trailed off watching Jirou shift closer to where the dummy was, crouching down in Momo’s old spot and staring intensely. “What is it?”
“It’s just… their shirt.” She ran her hand over the fabric, fingers catching on the small rips and holes in it. “Aizawa-sensei, is it really morally correct of us to do CPR? Can we really let them keep living like this?” He narrowed his eyes, but for the most part he looked pretty caught off guard by the question.
“What are you suggesting, a mercy killing? They shouldn’t die just because they’ve got a few tears in their clothes.” Now it was Jirou’s turn to look caught off guard.
“What? No, not that.” She held the shirt up, letting the rest of the students get a good look at the design. “They’re wearing Tame Tame Tail Waggers merch, that band’s a total rip off of the Wild Wild Pussycats. Disgusting, by the way. It’s not about whether or not we can let them keep living, it’s about whether or not they even deserve to.”
Aizawa stared down at her- It feels like he’s been doing a lot of that today- for a little while before heading back to the whiteboard, erasing Shinsou’s lowercase name and replacing it with Jirou’s, except smaller. Shinsou did a fist pump.
“How many points deducted is that?”
What? He’s got a job to do. The eraser hero shook his head.
“Irrelevant. She’s staying there.” His hands clapped together and he turned on his feet, “CPR.”
~~
“It’s important to ask for consent before you touch them or anything- a verbal or physical confirmation work just fine- unless they’re they’re unconscious, in which case consent is implied. But you’ve gotta check whether or not the person’s even unresponsive at all. Talk to them, shout at them,” He hovered a hand over their chest, “check their breathing, really breathing not just gasping breaths,” He moved his fingers up their neck and his other hand to their wrist, “and then check for their pulse. If you don’t get good results for any of it, that’s when you get to work. Anyone know what comes first?”
“Call 119,” Rin from class 2-B called out.
“Correct. Now for what comes next, you’re gonna want them on their back on a flat surface which, luckily, Shishida has already done for our main guy. But go ahead and make sure nothing’s elevating the rest of your dummies.”
Ten of the students lined up in front of the classes- as well as Kirishima who took over the main dummy- proceeded to lift up the dummies and swipe at the ground below them, ridding anything from underneath. With gloves on, though, there was after all the spare chance of getting their hands stuck in some gum. It was Uraraka, Awase, Tetsutetsu, Kodai, erm, Chiyo. Hiroshi, he thinks. And- and…
And he can remember everyone’s names but theirs.
Izuku pulled the book down over his head in a silent scream, ignoring the side glance Kacchan gave him. Which was surprisingly easy, there was significantly less scorching heat to it than usual. It freaked him out if he’s being honest. Hound Dog’s nice and all but he’s not a one-session miracle worker. Even if he was, this is plain unnatural.
“You’re gonna place two hands on the center of the chest, one over the other. Make sure your elbows are locked and your shoulders are lined up directly over over your hands. Then you’re gonna begin compressions- and don’t be too light with it, either. All compressions should be at least two inches deep in the chest, hard, CPR is known to break ribs for a reason.” He paused, then looked to Cementoss. “But you should at least try not to. And finally, most importantly, don’t do mouth to mouth.”
“But-“ Kaminari was interrupted.
“No.”
“But why-“
“Just don’t. It was taken out of CPR fifty years ago and it’s gonna stay that way. As for the rate of compressions, it should be about 100 to 120 per minute.”
“However!” Mic-sensei piped up, jumping next to Aizawa, “There are some easy tips and tricks for getting that done. For example-“
“A machine.” Majima spat out.
“No. Using the identical CPR rhythm of a song-!“
“No.” Aizawa spat next.
“A wonderful song-“
“Leave. You’re not even a heroics teacher.”
Mic-sensei placed one hand over his ear and stuck the other hand’s pointer finger in front of himself, as if a melody had come over his body.
“Ah? Ahh, ah, AH STAYIN ALIVE!”
“STAYIN ALIVE!” The rest of the teachers and some students echoed in a chant. Aizawa looked like he was having a psychotic break.
“FEEL THE CITY—FUCK!” Mic-sensei was shoved into the dark alley and didn’t come back out.
Izuku would be more concerned if he hadn’t heard of this kind of thing happening before, only in America. It may not be a song you could do CPR too, All Might said, but for all intents and purposes “Sweet Caroline” could cripple the productivity of a mission. Or enhance it?
“I don’t recommend songs,” The Eraser hero said calmly, “They work for some, but I fear many of you sing songs too fast or too slow. From personal experience I’d recommend using a much more efficient method of timing your compressions, which is to count by 0.5 seconds in your head. For example-“ Aizawa took a deep breath but got cut short.
“Just use a song, kids.” Midnight-sensei called out.
“Fine.” Aizawa started the timer. “First to resuscitate their dummy gets 20 points. Begin.”
It ended surprisingly fast. Turns out it wasn’t just combat that some quirks were especially suited towards, it was first-aid, too. Five seconds after the students realized they had no idea what dated song Mic-sensei was singing and knew none of the lyrics besides those two lines, subsequently falling into a clueless panic, Kirishima hardened his arms and started counting by every 0.5 seconds. He won shortly after that.
Izuku prepared to give him 20 points but Aizawa held up a hand to stop him.
“Good job. 20 points for winning, 10 for quirk creativity, and 5 for being right.“ Kirishima gave a sharp grin and ran to fist bump Kacchan, who rejected him, but Aizawa-sensei wasn’t done. “However, you lose 35 for breaking the law.”
“What?”
Aizawa used the toe of his boot to roll Kirishima’s dummy over onto its front, crouching down to lift the back of its shirt. And in bright red ink and a large font:
DO NOT RESUSCITATE
Aizawa gave his logical ruse grin.
“Expect the unexpected.”
~~
“Someone has, through a third party associate, brought up the complaint that perhaps I should have reviewed Japan’s Good Samaritan Laws before proceeding with CPR. And maybe I shouldn’t have advertised a prize if resuscitating was against the law in this hypothetical situation. And, okay. That’s on me.”
Kirishima was unresponsive on his knees. Tetsutetsu patted his back and Kacchan looked a little freaked knowing he denied the guy his last fist bump. But, a diluted kind of freaked. Again, weird.
“Problem is, Japan doesn’t have clearly defined good Samaritan Laws. So really, it’s not on me.”
“Didn’t you say we were encouraged to bla-“
“However,” He continued as if Jirou hadn’t spoken, a byproduct of being the permanent lowest scorer and therefore treated as a second class species, “What our country does grant its people is article 37.” Izuku had the page open and ready to recite before Aizawa even snapped.
“An act unavoidably performed to avert a present danger to the life, body, liberty or property of oneself or any other person is not punishable only when the harm produced by such act does not exceed the harm to be averted."
“What do they mean exceed?” Uraraka asked, and their teacher took a moment to think over a good response.
“Imagine two scenarios: Person A suffers from a cardiac arrest but dies peacefully after they flatline. Person B also undergoes a cardiac arrest but instead dies after five of their ribs stab into their lungs, leading to internal bleeding and an agony so great they wish for death with their last breath. Who’s got it worse?”
“Person B!” The class rang out in another mix of high and low pitched voices. Vlad King looked shaken to his very core.
“Exactly, the damage done trying to save person B ended up exceeding the damage they would’ve faced if you hadn’t stepped in at all.” Aizawa-sensei gave a chilling glance-over. “Sometimes, not meddling with things you don’t understand the full scope of is the best thing you can do.”
“Wait, who breaks five ribs doing CPR?” Jirou broke the silence with.
“Additionally,” His teacher cut off again, “What being a resident of UA and a specimen of the HPSC grants you is a good legal team if you do get persecuted. So there, rest easy.” Aizawa shrugged, “Saving someone with a DNR, though? Can’t help you there.”
Kirishima remained unresponsive for the next ten minutes.
~~
“There’s really not much you can do about a concussion when you’re on site, since no matter what you do the person is still gonna be experiencing the pain anywhere from a week to a few months. Honestly this barely counts as first aid. But what you can do is help identify a concussion in its starting stages and provide some relief until the person gets a checkup. Thankfully,” Aizawa’s eyes burned into Vlad, “We’ve got a volunteer to help us with that.”
“I’m doing this for my class, I’m doing this for my class,” The blood hero mumbled to himself.
“Everyone say thank you, Vlad-sensei.”
‘Thank you Vlad-senseiiiii’ was chanted in sync from the crowd of pitiful children. Vlad let out a shaky breath.
“Now, concussions can be caused by many things. For example, a punch to the jaw.”
A grin grew on Aizawa-sensei’s face and subsequently disappeared at the flat look Midnight-sensei was giving him. He made a subtle throat cutting gesture and Izuku passed it along to Momo, whose eyes went wide as she threw the half made boxing glove into the dark alley of no return.
“Or the chin or the skull or whatever. Strong enough to knock the head fully in any direction, but it doesn’t have to be so strong it knocks them out, so you’ll commonly find concussed victims in car accidents and such. Some symptoms may take days to show themselves, but a good amount of them appear within the first few minutes or hours, and that’s what we’ll be focusing on. First up, clear discharge from the nose or ears.”
“Wait,” Vlad said after a second, eyebrows furrowed, “Did I need props for thi-“
The hero was cut off by Izuku throwing a handful of leftover bucket water at his face. He met the boy’s eyes through dripping lashes and was greeted with no sympathy. Like Aizawa-sensei told him earlier, albeit doing his logical ruse grin at the same time, this was purely for educational purposes. Not that he really believed him, but ever since joining the environmental awareness club Izuku’s been pretty big on the conservation of natural resources. He’s helping the world heal, one blissfully ignorant task at a time.
“Alternatively, blood running from the ears.”
Izuku flicked red pen ink at him.
“Dizziness or loss of balance.”
Vlad’s right arm was grabbed by him at the same time Momo grabbed his left, proceeding to get pulled from side to side and knocked around. Vlad’s blank look remained in his eyes.
“Seizures.”
They started shaking.
“Excessive, repetitive vomiting.”
A bucket of some unknown substance Momo generated was poured onto the concrete while Izuku cupped his own mouth to make vomiting noises. Shinsou gave him a thumbs up for the performance quality and perhaps that was Vlad’s last straw. Dark red eyes stared deep into green.
“Really, kid?” He nodded.
Aizawa-sensei nudged the guy’s shin with his foot.
“Hey, volunteer, I don’t see you helping out with gagging noises. Someone’s gotta carry the presentation.” He said. “Next, irritable, irrational behavior.”
Nothing happened.
“Anyway, as for the treatment… give them an icepack or something. Pain killers are a good idea if you’ve got ‘em. Just make sure a medical professional on site and their guardian knows.”
“Seriously?” Izuku’s teacher looked at his whispering coworker.
“What.” He muttered back.
“An ice pack and some advil? That’s what you had me fake vomiting for?”
“No, that’s what you volunteered to fake vomit for- Not that you really helped much with it.”
“Because you told me nothing in advance!.”
“Yeah, it’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Nobody here has the sense to check for DNR tattoos, nobody knows the lyrics to Stayin Alive, nobody is satisfied with just throwing a knife, they’ve always gotta hit someone with it, you can’t fake vomit for shit, and it’s all my fault.“
What?
“What?”
“I’m giving you a heads up now, happy?” Aizawa-sensei raised his voice back to normal. “Another symptom: going to sleep and not waking up for a long time. Midoriya, the glove”
“Yes, Midoriya, the glove!” A sickly sweet voice cut in.
Izuku watched the spark in his teacher’s eyes fade from their usual ‘I’m ruining someone’s day and I’m proud of it‘ glint to just… nothing. Aizawa-sensei was there when Vlad first got splashed with water, but when the crowd of students parted like the Red Sea to reveal Nezu standing at the center, his teacher was gone. Physically there, but gone. Izuku remembers this kind of thing happening for people whose heart stops, and for seven minutes they relive the happiest moments of their lives. Marriage, birth of a child, anything before Nezu arrived is up for grabs, really.
He didn’t even look like he wanted to physically be there either.
“Aizawa-kun, mind if I observe?”
And he was back.
“Sure.”