Chapter Text
“But you have to remember: in the field, you won’t have a Recovery Girl! Ours is one in a million,” Izuku said from the classroom floor with his fake injury. All 20 students’ eyes were on him and the nimble dressing of his knee, the kneecap of which he’d just demonstrated putting back into the socket. “I strongly encourage you all to supplement your knowledge with first aid! Even better to go beyond rudimentary competence!”
The bell signaling the end of the day rang. Izuku hopped to his feet and waved at his class.
“All right, my bright and shiny students! The homework is online. I’m always here to answer your questions. Study hard, train hard, and self-care hard, too! I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
The students filed out. Izuku began organizing the materials on his desk.
“Hi, sensei!”
“’Sup, Teach.”
Sounds about right.
Izuku turned to find his two mentees, third-years Kirishima and Bakugo, standing in front of the desks. “Hi, you two! How may I help you?” He was already brightening with warmth despite knowing their game. They’d been playing it for almost two years now.
“Hey,” Bakugo rasped, “I lost the handout for Basic homework. Get me another?”
Izuku smiled, amused. You did not, Bakugo; you didn’t get into UA by not being painfully driven.
“Of course,” he said, pulling out his folder of handouts for the third year curriculum. But before he could open it, Kirishima stepped forward.
“Sensei, I have some questions about the ethical dilemmas and HIPA paper,” Kirishima said. “Can you go over it with me?”
Bakugo stepped in front of Kirishima and tapped the folder Izuku was trying to open to help him out.
“Always happy to do so,” Izuku said. Alphas! He only rolled his eyes on the inside. Initially Izuku’s concealment of his omega status was to avoid roadblocks in his pro-hero career (UA knew he was an omega from his days as a student there). But ever since Bakugo and Kirishima warmed up to him halfway through their first year, he maintained the ruse of beta status just as much to help keep these two at arm’s length.
Bakugo leaned across the desk and took a deep, unsubtle whiff of Izuku’s hair.
As far as arm’s length was humanly possible.
In what was now a well-practiced reflex, Izuku pretended to find his folder of worksheets suddenly fascinating.
He glanced at Kirishima to his left, the far more respectful of the two, only to find the student rubbing his inner wrist against the edge of Izuku’s desk as if to scratch an innocent itch. Izuku didn’t buy it, not with the scent patch peeled away from his wrist; he was scent-marking the furniture to dissuade other alphas. If they ever confirmed Izuku was an omega, he’d have to get restraining orders and a body cam for insurance. He absolutely loved mentoring them, but dealing with their fixation was a third job to him. They were even needier on days when Izuku didn’t call on them enough in class.
“Hey,” Bakugo growled from still Way Too Close while Izuku looked back to his worksheets. “You got any plans after work today?”
“Just the usual!” Izuku said. I know this dance, Bakugo.
“Sensei’s an early to bed, early to rise type!” Kirishima chimed in with a grin. “You want to be back bright and early to see us again tomorrow, right?”
Do not engage.
But Bakugo wasn’t yet ready to let this go. He planted his hands on the desk, now looming over Izuku. “Why can’t you be our homeroom teacher too?” he croaked. “Aizawa’s lame. Much rather it be you doing our bed-checks at lights-out…”
One…two…three…four…
Only when Bakugo got tired of waiting for Izuku to respond did he withdraw. Only four seconds that time. As soon as he was the only one inside his personal space bubble, Izuku made eye-contact again; he handed Bakugo the sheet he’d requested.
“Here you go! Anything else?”
“Thanks,” Bakugo grunted. “I have a thing for Alpha Ed. History an’ shit on for alpha-omega social relations. D’you know anything about that?”
“Well,” Izuku said, “the very labeling of alphas and omegas as male and female is a medical misnomer; betas are the only single-sex members of society anymore. You could start there.”
“Hah? I wanna be No. 1, not a gyneco-urologist,” Bakugo rasped.
Out of the corner of Izuku’s eye, Kirishima’s fingers twitched, sending a ripple of unease through Izuku’s stomach. Desirous “thinking with the hands” was an alpha thing whereas ear-twitching was an omega attraction tell; respectful or not, Izuku knew from experience where those fingers itched to be.
That's why I never cut my hair short...
Refocusing on the question, Izuku went into more detail. “What people call male and female alphas and omegas are people who differ in their presentation of secondary sex characteristics. ‘Male’ alphas can nurse young but their production is low. The mammary glands are concealed by the pectoral muscles in masculine-presenting alphas and omegas so there is no soft-chested appearance. Likewise, omega testes aren’t just for show. Include any of that and Midnight-sensei will be impressed.”
Bakugo scowled. “I don’t wanna think about this.”
Izuku snorted. “Yeah, it must suck getting an education.”
“Hey!!”
Kirishima butted in front of Bakugo. “HIPA help please!” he practically whined, flapping his notebook. “Sensei, I’m so bad at pro hero law!”
Aw, he needs attention so badly! Izuku smiled despite their antics; even when they bugged him, he found them endearing.
They spoke at the same time:
“Teach, are we gonna get another workshop on selecting an agency?”
“Can I send you my draft early for notes? I’m really worried I’ll mess up big time.”
“I’m sure you’ll do better than you think, Kirishima. And I don’t know how your sensei is grading that paper! But I think you have a good habit of under-promising and over-delivering,” Izuku reassured him with warm sincerity. “Besides, even if you’re weak in this area, you have an excellent study partner. Doesn’t he, Bakugo?” Both students grinned at the praise. “Yes, Bakugo, your homeroom teachers should be doing another round on that either this week or next week. But if either of you are interested in specializing in search and rescue, you can speak to me and I’ll recommend some agencies to you.”
They glowed.
Maybe it was Izuku’s own brand of being obtuse, but he found it difficult to assume the obvious interpretation of his mentees’ inappropriate behavior. Maybe they weren’t getting something they needed at home, maybe it was even deeper than that, perhaps some unique constellation of internal and environmental factors spurred them to do these things and no human being could ever tease it all apart. He preferred complicated, elusive problems and questions that teased his mind even when perhaps they didn’t feel good in an uncomplicated way like a hot shower or a neatly completed puzzle. He liked being hung up on something with no easy, simple answer.
He was about to get a heaping helping of that.
Izuku answered his students’ questions, discussed their assignments, and chatted with them. Kirishima and Bakugo kept moving around the room, wandering here and there without a clear purpose, all frowns and furrowed brows each time they planted themselves on a new spot and scented the air. Their pupils kept dilating and periodically they bobbed their heads to get a better sample of the air, seeking to absorb more of their environment. Their gazes returned to Izuku with a mild head-tilt of confusion.
This again?
They were scanning him; some instinct had spurred the alphas to investigate their surroundings for omegas more closely and Izuku happened to be the only other person in the room. They couldn’t know--he’d been too careful. It was merely their developing brains practicing what would be a vital skill for replicating their genetics in the future.
Their other breaches worried him, but in response to this particular behavior Izuku was calm and confident. His scientific brain whirred into action, cataloging these observations of his two students’ nonverbal behaviors with keen intellectual curiosity. He’d long nursed a hypothesis that different quirk genetics might moderate the expression of instinct-driven alpha and omega behaviors, although disentangling such effects from those of socialization would be daunting at best, if possible at all. It frustrated and teased his mind, so he loved thinking about it.
“Teach, you see Ryukyu’s takedown of the Threnody Trinity this morning? It’s all over social.”
Bakugo came around the side of Izuku’s desk and rested his knuckles on the wood. His brows furrowed as he scented the air; it was somehow different than when he’d sampled the fragrance of Izuku’s shampoo earlier. His red eyes rolled this way and that, plainly struggling to make sense of the cues he was detecting.
Kirishima approached Izuku’s desk, too. His eyes slid over the desk, Izuku, and the walls before he leaned forward, rotating his upper arms, p r e s e n t i n g his broad alpha shoulders to Izuku. Wow! The both of them, specimens reacting to something unidentifiable, unquantifiable in their environment, possibly without conscious awareness. Biological processes and imperatives battling the elusive, directing their behaviors, and probably mostly subcortically. Fascinating.
He watched the extra alpha muscles in Kirishima’s throat begin to work, the little contractions tugging slightly on his Adam’s apple above. His lips parted and the muscle contractions grew more visible--was he about to emit the croon at Izuku? But why? He couldn’t know!
I’m about to be a little unethical… Sorry, Kirishima!
He kept his eyes fixed on Kirishima. Very slowly, as though he was watching a wild animal, Izuku opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew eight oval cases, each one about the length of his thumb and twice as wide, identical, and hermetically sealed such that not even a dog or a rat could detect whatever pheromones were contained inside them. Each case was labeled with a number ranging from 1 to 23. He placed them face-down on his desk.
“Kirishima,” he said softly, “pick one of these for me. Any of them.”
Kirishima swallowed and coughed, smacking his chest until the muscle contractions in his neck stopped. “Whichever…?” Kirishima asked, his brow furrowing.
“Whichever one feels right,” Izuku said.
The redhead knelt beside the desk and examined the identical little cases at eye-level. He sniffed them, touched them, examined them from different angles for any minute identifying marks or dents. His hand hovered mostly over one particular case, but he dropped his hand to his knee. His eyes became unfocused, appearing to stare at something far away for a few seconds, and suddenly he snapped back to the present with a shake.
He grabbed the case positioned second from Izuku’s left.
Izuku turned it over: Omega 1’s sample.
He flipped it back over and mixed the cases again, using a manila folder to conceal the process from Kirishima. When he was done, he set the folder aside and asked Kirishima to pick one again.
After much the same process as before, Kirishima put his finger on his selection. Izuku picked it up.
Omega 1. Twice is only a coincidence…
He arranged them a third time and gestured for Kirishima to try again. Curious, Bakugo stood beside Izuku’s chair to watch. Izuku twitched when Bakugo draped his arm around his shoulders, but Izuku was so interested he ignored it just this once; something more important was happening.
Kirishima put his finger on his selection. This time Izuku swiped it. He flipped it over in his hand and--but how?
Omega 1.
They did this a dozen more times. At some point, Izuku moved the task to the air vent beneath the window, then to one of the student desks near the door, then the one farthest from both the door and his desk in front of the whiteboard.
1, 1, 1, 1, 1…
Giving up and a bit overwhelmed, Izuku scrubbed his hands over his face. What the fuck. The cases were all identical, all perfectly sealed.
They were scent gland biopsies from various alpha, beta, and omega participants in a study from a couple years back. Izuku was Omega 1.
It was unsettling--he instantly decided against asking Bakugo to perform the same task. And yet his mind closed around the phenomenon he’d just witnessed like a bear trap. At times like these Izuku would love to strap them into an fMRI and just watch all the neurons go.
Then a tiny, traitorous voice in the back of his head whispered: Pro Heroes are big; alpha Pro Heroes are b i g g e r.
He shoved that thought down. He returned the cases to his desk drawer and sat in his chair. His two students joined him, quiet while Izuku absently tugged at his bottom lip; his mind whirred about independent variables and grants and his mouth followed suit, issuing a swiftly flowing stream of muttered thought. Bakugo rested his forearms on the backrest of Izuku’s chair, playing with the spikiest wisps of Izuku’s hair in the silence while Kirishima sat on the desk, playing on his phone while wedging his thigh under Izuku’s elbow. After a few minutes without Izuku responding in any direction, Bakugo’s nose and hands were deep in Izuku’s hair and Kirishima had taken possession of Izuku’s free arm; he interlaced their fingers, yet Izuku’s brain remained far off and moving at a mile a minute.
They’d learned to take advantage of these moments, the opportunists. Izuku was dimly aware of what they were doing, but for the life of him he couldn’t care when there was this big, juicy, sexy Unknown staring him in the face.
But when Kirishima tried to sit on his lap, he finally kicked them out and went home.
~
After class the next day.
“We want to thank you for all the extra time you’ve given to us as our mentor!” Kirishima said with a small bow. Mentally, Izuku snorted. “Might we have some more of it?”
“We wanna master first aid,” Bakugo interrupted.
While pleased, Izuku nevertheless quirked an eyebrow. Kirishima sure, but you?
“We’ll do extra readings and videos on our own, but--” Kirishima said in a rush, “but experiential learning is always the best, as you say! Would you be willing to help us practice?”
He would prefer to use that time to write up a study proposal after yesterday’s intellectually life-changing moment, but he gave them a grin as he grabbed his first aid teaching kit.
``
Given that Bakugo had all the social graces of a grenade, Izuku was immensely grateful that he’d managed to develop one strong, close friendship; he smiled from the inside out whenever he saw Kirishima and Bakugo together. Such friendships were precious in life, especially in the perilous line of work to which his students aspired. He dearly hoped they would remain close for the rest of their lives.
Hopefully not with their dicks hovering over his face.
“All right! So what do you do first, Kirishima?” Izuku asked from his attractive sprawl between his two crouching students and the imaginary blood and rubble on the classroom floor.
Kirishima blushed a little. “First check for responsiveness!” he said. “Then call for help. If I can’t call, then ask a specific person to call the emergency line and tell them how many injured persons we have, how many are conscious, the name of the building or location. Exact, uhm, exact coordinates if we’re in the--the wilderness. I have to…make sure they understood my directions and they’re making the call.”
“Good job!” Izuku said. “Now say somehow they didn’t know UA and couldn’t pull up the address. What are our coordinates?”
“Ahh--” Kirishima quickly plucked his phone out of his pocket and performed a search. “Got ‘em! Longitude and latitude.”
“Good! It’ll be useful to make a habit of checking your coordinates every so often. Even better if you can memorize the coordinates of some landmarks so you can point the emergency workers in the right direction if you can’t check your phone. What next?”
Kirishima put two fingers under Izuku’s jaw and cupped Izuku’s forehead with a gentleness that was at odds with his spiky exterior. He softly tilted Izuku’s head back. “Check airways… Sorry, sensei, I’m just gonna tilt your mouth open…here… Okay, I see no obstruction.”
“You’ve determined there’s no physical object preventing my breathing!” Izuku chirped. “Now what?”
“Well--are you bleeding, sensei?”
Izuku chuckled. “I dunno, Kirishima. Am I?”
Bakugo cackled and Kirishima blushed. He lowered his head. “Sorry, sensei! You’re just unconscious this time! So…oh, recovery position!”
“Good thinking!”
Kirishima laid Izuku’s right hand on his left pec and bent his right leg onto the same side. He rolled Izuku onto his left side so his right limbs prevented him from rolling onto his stomach.
“Ack! I forgot to disinfect the floor!” Kirishima yelped.
Bakugo guffawed; Izuku suppressed a snicker. But he’s doing well so far!
With lingering touches, Kirishima laid his hands on Izuku’s shoulder and face as he tilted his head into position and opened his mouth. There was such strength in those hands, honed by years of training toward fight and force, but twice as much warmth.
Izuku shivered.
“Oop, did I hurt you, sensei?”
“It’s nothing! I’m in recovery position! What’s next?”
Every tiny step of the way, Izuku glowed brighter with pride for his earnest student.
``
Now Bakugo. He was chewing the inside of his lip as he crouched over Izuku’s head. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants--for the third time in under a minute.
“The mechanism is to find a rhythm for drying your hands!” Izuku said with more confidence than he felt. His jacket had already been singed once today, but Izuku’s apprehension gave way a bit to affection. It was so rare to see Bakugo uncertain, and he just wanted to nurture his student.
“So you have one casualty, adult, male, conscious,” he summarized helpfully. “You can ask me questions! That’s always nice.”
“How’d you fall and where’s it hurt?” Bakugo grunted.
“My left ankle hurts. I slipped when I was trying to escape and my ankle turned under me. Now it hurts to put any weight on it,” Izuku said. A mischievous part of him wanted to add an ambiguous moan for effect, but after yesterday that might rile them up past what Izuku was willing to put up with.
Bakugo hummed. “Probably a sprain, possibly a break, they’ll sort you out at th’ hospital. I’ll bind it; limit the swelling,” Bakugo said, unfurling a roll of stretchy bandage wrap from the kit.
Katsuki began wrapping the bandage around Izuku’s ankle. Owie.
“Ah, too tight! That hurts!” Izuku said.
Bakugo scowled. “It’s supposed ta be tight! How else you gonna keep it from filling with blood?”
“Just re-tie it,” Izuku said gently.
Bakugo scoffed but he started again. His palms were warmer this time, starting to glow a little from his quirk. This time he managed to isolate the foot from the shin so the ligament was not secured in a neutral position.
“Wait! Think about how the tissues connect to each other!” Izuku pointed out. “If there’s a tear in one of the ligaments, then locking the foot in extension could compound the injury! Re-tie it.”
Bakugo’s hands started radiating heat. Izuku glanced at Kirishima; the redhead gave him a look of sympathy.
Kirishima tiptoed over to Bakugo’s side and shoved an absorbent wound dressing into his hands.
“I KNOW!” Bakugo yelled at him, squeezing the gauze as though for its very life force.
Ooh boy.
~
Later that day, Izuku was down on UA’s main level; Sunaipu had texted him asking him to bring him a package he left in his office. Izuku slipped off his shoes outside the school’s fabricated indoor onsen and walked across the waiting room in a pair of disposable slippers.
There he found Bakugo in a thin robe, slumped like an aspiring scoliosis patient against a pillar and checking his phone. He glanced up at Izuku and his posture unfurled.
“Hey, Teach,” Bakugo rasped, puffing up his chest. His eyes were already all over Izuku.
“Hello, Bakugo,” Izuku said. “Doing some self-care after training?”
“Yeh!” Bakugo said with a lop-sided grin. He spun around to show him his back muscles while he gratuitously flexed--he never missed a partially-dressed opportunity to show off to his peers, the press, and Izuku. “I gained again this week! See my traps? And my teres maj and min are comin’ through! Come feel!”
Deflect… “Some other time, at the moment my hands need a wash,” Izuku said. “You’re working so hard non-stop and it’s clearly paying off! Make sure to stretch, ice, and do your physical therapy too, okay?”
Bakugo gave one last flex and turned around to face him again, somehow closer than he’d been before; a pleased grin he never would have permitted Izuku to see two years ago was bold and bright on his face.
“Thanks, Teach! But if yer dirty, this’s the best place for you,” he said with a wink.
Redirect. “Hey Bakugo. What’s red and white and black all over?” Izuku asked.
“Ah, dunno. Spill it.”
“A student who doesn’t see a stop sign in his face.”
Bakugo frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Doesn’t have to,” Izuku said, “you still got it.”
Bakugo took a step back. “Hey, what was your workout regimen back in UA?”
“Ah, the ancient scrolls,” Izuku intoned, becoming more playful now that there was more space between them. “I know you don’t want to hear about that! Exercise science has come a long way since then!”
Bakugo snorted. He stepped back into Izuku’s personal space and poked him in the shoulder, perhaps trying and failing to distract from his leering inhale of Izuku’s scent. It made Izuku’s skin prickle but he didn’t let it show. “Five years ago ain’t ancient,” he teased. “What if yer holdin’ out some secrets on me and Kiri?”
Izuku waved dismissively. “I’m sure I’ve told you and Kirishima a dozen times. It doesn’t get any more interesting, I promise!”
“Maybe I wanna hear it again!”
Then Kirishima bounded through the door to the bathing room.
“Hey, Katsu, bath’s open, water’s come back up to temp…” he trailed off, taking Izuku in.
“You take it; I’m busy,” Bakugo grunted.
But Kirishima’s attention was already on Izuku. “Wouldn’t want to be rude, man, I respect that,” he said, his eyes going places more subtly than his friend’s did. He grabbed the nearby support beam and leaned in closer to Izuku and Bakugo--mostly Izuku. He let his free arm dangle like an orangutan and at this distance it was plain how thick with sculpted muscle the limb was. He flexed his pecs a little, his contours emphasized by the thin sheen of moisture on his skin.
Their scent patches were off from their pre-soak shower; their glands were productively churning out clean, pure eau de alpha--spicy, woodsy, and alluring. Izuku easily pushed those thoughts away.
“Are you planning on using the onsen, sensei?” Kirishima said brightly.
“No, no, not today,” Izuku said. “I just have something for Sunaipu; I believe he’s already in there. Would one of you take it to him for me?”
“Sure, sensei!” said Kirishima.
“We gotchu,” grunted Bakugo.
They both extended their hands to take the bag Izuku was carrying but then they started fighting over the task, shoving each other and blocking each hand that rose to grab the package. Alphas, Izuku thought, rolling his eyes. But this nonsense was a vast improvement over Bakugo’s conduct when he’d arrived at UA over two years ago, so Izuku was just grateful.
“Come on, now,” Izuku said. “First one to take it gets a gold star from me!”
Bakugo and Kirishima promptly shoved their hands out to accept the bag.
Izuku handed it over and went on his way with a smile, wishing them both fruitful training and studying.
Back to work! His mind was already far away on his current project: he was making final touches on an innovative new exercise he planned to introduce to his next class. He’d developed the protocol with pro-heroes Tsuyu and Ibara, with whom Izuku had studied during his own years as a student at UA, and he was over the moon about it.
I love my job!
~
Izuku was walking towards his dinner date with Tenya that evening. He passed many buildings and businesses, some of the most eye-catching being relief establishments. One with glowing signs came up on his left. The employees in the doorway made the omega “coo” at a gaggle of passing alphas and all the alphas’ heads swiveled towards them as though on strings, already distracted and scenting the air. Three of them made the alpha “croon” back at the omegas and a fourth made an indistinguishable sound a little after the others; there raged a debate in the literature over whether the alpha croon, when made in reply to an omega coo, was reflexive or voluntary.
Matter of degrees and some individual variation, Izuku thought.
And a little tasteless, a voice in Izuku’s head murmured as he walked past the neon-lit establishment, even as he slid a hand over the two patches on his neck. He always wore clothes with necklines that concealed the scent patches just above his collarbones in public, but he always worried about his cover slipping when he was out and about. That particular relief establishment catered more to the sexual side of things; he knew just by looking at the designs on the front that this one offered a side of casual Rut Relief. They’d have a van with restraints out back to transport rutting clients into a back room. They might even have a dorm for the wealthiest alpha clients to spend the entire cycle in a ceaseless parade of food, water, and omega holes.
At least they know they’re getting real omegas before they even step inside. Betas could not make the coo; there were some differences in the shapes of their vocal flaps and neck muscles that rendered them simply unable to produce the sound. But he hoped they either used betas for the Rut Relief or else muzzled the alphas if their omegas had to do that work. Not all Stations did, and the worst carted in trafficked omegas who never saw the sunlight.
Thank Kami Izuku had One for All; he had a vastly better shot at self-defense than a lot of omegas, and beta women for that matter.
He arrived at the restaurant Tenya had texted him. Already, his spirits rose a bit at the thought of seeing his old school buddy! Even more so because Tenya’s agency did so much work in anti-human trafficking.
But tonight Izuku had a special bonus reason for meeting with Tenya: to bribe, wheedle, and cajole him into taking time out of his schedule to do a presentation for his students. They’d get a kick out of seeing Ingenium II in the flesh!
“Professional Hero and Search and Rescue Teacher Izuku Midoriya!” shouted Tenya, all but blasting off from his chair.
Izuku beamed, rushing forward with his arms stretched wide. “If it isn’t the Excalibur of Pros himself!” he cried. “You’ve been dropping the ball on updating me! How have you been!?”
``
After dinner and enough drinks to melt even Tenya’s notoriously straight-backed posture (a little), they headed home. They walked together to the subway and hugged again before heading to their different rail lines. Izuku got off a couple stops farther from his home in order to get in some of his daily jogging, sans-One for All. Today he picked a route that took him through some seedy neighborhoods which happened to give him more obstacles and walls for parkour. He repeated the route a few times, going back and forth between his house and the station; his experience and the familiarity of the moves allowed his mind to wander as he leaped over dumpsters and debris, bystanders and barricades.
Even tipsy, red-faced, and full of happiness after catching up with Tenya, Izuku’s thoughts migrated as they frequently did to his two mentees. A student’s deficiencies really came to a head in the grading of third-years, and a professional if affectionate relationship with their sensei wouldn’t save them. Kirishima was always on himself about not having a flashy quirk but Izuku consistently made efforts to remind him of why he’d make a brilliant future pro; he had an excellent quirk for a protector, he was a team player, and he had the character and soft skills to be an abundantly capable hero! Kirishima would be exactly what countless victims needed and wanted in a rescuer. Izuku was extremely proud of him and he tried to transmit some of that ardent sentiment to his student.
That brought his train of thought to his concerns about Bakugo, his fiery little fighter. Well, not little at all--he and Kirishima were both six feet tall and they hadn’t even gotten their final alpha growth spurt yet--but they never truly grew up when they were yours, did they?
When Bakugo inevitably scored very low on the human services portion of the exams, Izuku would most likely not fail him, but he couldn’t tell Bakugo that; he needed to motivate him to build, build, build upon that weakness as much as possible during his remaining time at UA. It was an ethics and industry problem, passing a deficient aspiring pro into the field, and it was Izuku’s duty to do his utmost to foster his students’ growth. Had Izuku not witnessed the sheer extent of Bakugo’s efforts to improve during their years of extra help sessions after school, there would be no question: Bakugo would fail Izuku’s courses.
He’d consulted 13, his mentors, teacher training workshops, and Mr. Principal many a time about Bakugo, trying to improve his own teaching abilities as much as possible so he could better benefit Bakugo. What if there was some technique, some module, some teaching tool that could unlock Bakugo’s block, and Izuku never found it? If he didn’t try as hard as Bakugo was, then Bakugo’s limitation was Izuku’s failure. In Izuku’s mind, it would be tantamount to a child suffering a villain’s attack without a single hope of rescue or comfort.
His eyes prickled; he wiped the beginnings of his runny nose on his wrist. He forced the feelings down.
The only thing that soothed his worries about his teaching competence was to review Bakugo’s growth in this area; meager yet hard-won, clear as crystal, and so very real.
But in Izuku’s final analysis…Bakugo was crap at an important part of hero work. He’d get licensed on the strength of his academic intelligence and his combat ability, but whatever agency took Bakugo on was going to take out an insurance policy on him that was at least triple that of the average pro, and Bakugo would have to lean more on his teammates than average for the interpersonal work. It was rare for a hero to excel in all areas important to hero work so Bakugo was not completely outside of the norm, but he definitely had a more lopsided skill set than was typical.
Izuku was worried that Bakugo would get flack for it all his life. When he made it to the Top 10, he might become the most despised top pro in Japan’s history.
Izuku already craved to wrap his arms around Bakugo and give him the biggest hug in human history--just squeeze him until all thoughts of the endless critiques flew out of his blond head and never came back, not once.
He cherished his two mentees, and now he had to cope with not being able to protect them.
Protect them?
Izuku chuckled sadly; what a thought.
After that lap, he went home.
~
It was a bright, windy day.
Izuku’s Basic Training class had just jointly run a disaster simulation with Thirteen’s class in the USJ. The near-gale-force winds only added to the simulation. The clean up crew was taking care of the debris and the class had finished up early, so Izuku was taking the leisurely walk back to the main building. Up ahead, he saw Bakugo and Kirishima enjoying their extra free time at a picnic table beside the path. Their conversation blew downwind to Izuku.
“You know,” Kirishima said, “ever since I sang that song, it’s been haunting me.”
“It should be,” Bakugo rasped, “you murdered it.”
“Hey!!” Kirishima’s sputtering turned into a warm laugh. “Man, you can’t sing for your life either!”
“Yeah, but I act like it.” Bakugo exploded with wheezing laughter. He was so amused he didn’t cover his mouth like he did in class and in public, Izuku noticed. Kirishima folded his arms over the tabletop and rested his chin on them.
“You wouldn’t know about it, man,” Kirishima said. “You’re never full of joy, just rage. You’ve never had to express all my light!”
“Yeah, just my might.”
Kirishima turned his face toward where Izuku was coming up the path. If Kirishima’d had a tail, it would have wagged. “Heyy, lookie look, bro,” he said, eyes still on Izuku. “Talk about a song…”
Bakugo looked over. His eyes scaled Izuku like a mountain and climbed all the way back down. “Don’t sing,” he grunted.
Kirishima shoved Bakugo.
It was a bit flattering, receiving such looks from the two rising stars of the Pro Hero world. In six months, they would make their debuts and go shooting across the sky!
As Izuku got within what the students thought was earshot, they turned to him.
“Heyyy, sensei!” Kirishima called. “How are you today? How’d we do?”
The wind whipped up something fierce, shoving Izuku toward them with such force he cleared extra inches without changing his stride. Oof!
“Hello, Kirishima, Bakugo,” he said warmly, smoothing his hair. “You two did great at the Sports Festival over the weekend! You’re both going to get tons of offer letters. I’m very proud of you!”
“Thank you, sensei!” Kirishima chirped.
“Fanks, Teach,” Bakugo quipped.
Izuku stopped beside their table.
“How did you find the exercise today?” he asked them.
Then the wind blew Izuku’s hair; his head jerked forward with the force of it. It ruffled the neck of his shirt wildly, whipping and even ripping the fabric against his neck. His whole body tipped backwards when it abruptly stopped. Oof, wow! He yanked his shirt neck down from around his chin with force.
They were staring at him.
A shark-toothed grin sprouted on Kirishima’s face. He elbowed Bakugo in the ribs, and then Bakugo’s lips curved in a triumphant smirk.
When Izuku got back into the building, he combed his hair in the teacher’s bathroom near his office. Oh, one of his patches above his collarbone was half off. Time for a fresh one.
That was close.
~
A couple days later, Bakugo and Kirishima met in Izuku’s office after last period for first aid training. Izuku was excited; the air smelled liked his absolute favorite cologne, which boosted his mood above his normal brightness. He’d mentioned the first aid training to a few students and he was pleased when Yaoyorozu, Ashido, and Todoroki came. Bakugo and Kirishima were hovering near Izuku’s desk with him when they showed up; the two alphas turned towards the newcomers and Yaoyorozu and Ashido both jumped and almost marched right back out.
From the looks on the two girls’ faces, Izuku judged he had some alpha damage-control to do. It wasn’t like he had to work to get his mentees to come back… “Hi, you three! I’m so pleased to see you, Yaoyorozu! Ashido! Come on in!” he called, waving them over.
Todoroki planted himself beside Bakugo. “Are you two all right,” Todoroki asked the blond in his usual monotone. “You look constipated.”
Bakugo just turned on his heel. “Tch!”
“Hey, guys,” Kirishima said politely. “Lookin’ to get some new hero skills? Sensei’s the best!”
Kirishima kept talking to the newcomers. Then before Izuku knew it he was backed against his desk by Bakugo, who was looming over him with none of the easy body language he’d come to expect when it was just the three of them.
“Uh! Baku--” Izuku began, only to be cut off by the sight of Bakugo tearing open the top buttons of his own shirt. No scent patches?!--a little of his spicy cologne-like scent puffed into Izuku’s face and he blanched. Oh, god that’s why the room smelled so nice. Bakugo had never done this while there were witnesses before. He could fucking lose his job!
Bakugo placed his hands on the desk, to either side of Izuku’s hips.
“Hey, Teach,” Bakugo said more gravelly than usual. Bakugo looked like The Most Blasted Idea--he was scowling, his hair stuck out from his head as if charged with manic energy, his body language coiled with possessive energy. He leaned in and held that pose while he let Izuku drink him in, whether he wanted to or not.
“What d’you want me to do,” Bakugo paused, letting Izuku see his eyes sweep up and down his body, “fer you?”
Must be in pre-rut--this isn’t about me. “Bakugo!” Izuku cried with false cheer. “Don’t tell me you blew up your tie!” While Bakugo gaped, Izuku ducked under his arm and escaped.
“All right, thanks for coming!” Izuku said. “Today we’re not doing first aid skills as much as physical care, some of which may be relevant when you’re rescuing an injured person with limited mobility. This information will also help you protect your longevity as a pro! Who wants to volunteer?!”
Bakugo and Kirishima raised their hands fastest, but Ashido raised hers too. He wasn’t about to solicit more engagement from his mentees after Bakugo’s little display. And they would have to just cope.
“Come on up, Ashido!” Izuku said with a wave. “You’ll be my model for a shoulder demonstration! A lot of pros and body builders give a lot of time to strengthening their show-muscles like the biceps and pectorals, but for the--”
“YO TEACH!”
Oh good; it has begun.
“Yes, Baku--no put your uniform back on. As I was saying. For the best performance you need to train up the smaller muscles that support them! A prime example of these support muscles are those that attach to attach the--Bakugo, put your uniform back in order. To attach--”
“YOU NEED A MODEL FER YER DEMO!”
“Kirishima, you look very “ranked first in your class” when you restrain your friends for me,” Izuku said pointedly.
With what he thought was a manly chuckle (read: giggle), the redhead grabbed Bakugo and started stuffing him back into his uniform. The other students backed away from the pair when it turned into a scuffle.
Ugh...
“Anyway your rotator cuff muscles are a prime example of support muscles! Now Ashido, please raise your arm straight out to the side. Actually, you can all try it! Get a sense of it experientially! Yes, now raise it to shoulder level. Put it down by your hip and raise that arm to shoulder-height in front of you. Do the same behind you. Great, now raise your arm over your head. Mime pulling a shirt down over your head! Down--mime downward. No, I’m not coming over there to make you. Kirishima, fix him. Now scratch your head! Now give yourself a high five! Great! You can put your arms down. My bright and shiny students, what you just witnessed is…adduction. A key motion in human life! And you need your rotator cuff in good shape to do it!”
Izuku turned to the rest of his students. “Without your rotator cuffs, you can’t do any of that, to say nothing of falling rubble! But the worst thing is life without high fives; I know that’s why I train mine! That’s why I’m teaching you all about the rotator cuff today. Ashido, I’m going to show where the tendons attach in your shoulder joint if I may. Is that okay?”
“Sure!” chirped Ashido.
“You’re not ticklish are you?” Izuku asked.
“I am, senseiiii.”
And now it’s both of them.
“A little bit,” Ashido said.
“Well I’ll try not to tickle you!” Izuku said with a chuckle. “First the acromion. To find it, follow your collarbone with your finger to shoulder.” He demonstrated on Ashido, stopping above where the arm originated on the trunk. “This is the acromion, the roof of your shoulder joint, but it’s a shallow one that the head of the your upper arm bone can bang up into. Like if you put a saucer over your tea to keep it warm!”
“But the humerus is a really weird villain punching up at it from the bottom of your tea cup!” cried Kirishima. Ashido giggled; Yaoyorozu smiled. Izuku concealed a very fond smile. He was tempted to begin his reply with a honey or sweetheart but he mentally punted that idea into the metaphorical garbage.
“Quite,” Izuku said.
“I never said I was good at analogies!”
Izuku shook his head. Cute.
He dug his fingers into the muscle underneath Ashido’s acromion. “The head of the humerus has little bumps on the top outer edge where your rotator cuff muscles attach. Yes, part of these vital muscles are stuck between the saucer and the villain.
“Now, say you’re just a piece of connective tissue. You’re soft, you’re squishy, and you’re a tendon so you get less blood flow and thus your injuries heal far slower than any other kind of tissue!” Izuku pulled up Ashido’s arm and pointed to a spot where she’d broken it and some scars in the skin--while Bakugo’s expression resembled a tin can caught in a trash compactor and Kirishima was politely trying and failing to conceal his frustration. “Just about everything heals faster than a tendon!”
“And you, the soft and squishy but oh-so necessary connective bit, are trapped between the head of one bone and the bony cap of the joint. By the way, if not restrained, that villainous humeral head will bash into the tendons all the time!”
Almost all of his students had their hands on their shoulder joints, palpating for themselves, possibly worrying what damage they’d already done without knowing.
“Tendons naturally grow more brittle with age--you can see where I’m going with this. Now how do we protect the tendons from the villain?”
“By subduing the villain?” Yaoyorozu offered.
“That’s right! By strengthening the muscles which attach to the tendons! When they’re strong, they keep the humeral head depressed, limiting the damage the damage it can do! A villain in jail can’t hurt the public!”
“Sensei”--Todoroki raised his hand--“how often does large damage happen to the cuff? I’ve never heard about this before.”
“It’s very common for some of the rotator cuff to wear away!” Izuku said. “By age 40, about 40% of people have tears in the tendons. Prevention is really the best course.”
“Can sports massage help?” Todoroki asked.
“That’s a good question! Yes and no,” Izuku said. He indicated for Ashido to turn her back to the group and palpated the corner of her back just interior of her right shoulder, eliciting two low growls from among those watching. “Deep tissue massage can help the muscles, but probably not the tendons. It’s kind of hard to get them all because they’re all liiiiiittle, thin muscles, but here’s where most of them intersect…”
Ashido squirmed. “Ow! I didn’t expect it to hurt so much!”
“The muscles are probably in demand and under appreciated. Try to be mindful of giving these muscles some extra care. Hey, Ashido, I’m still not tickling you yet, am I? Good. Anyway, therapeutic sports massage should be part of all of your physical regimens, but we can’t get into the shoulder joint to massage the connective tissue.
“And finally!” Izuku began with a dramatic pause. A shadow passed over his face. He raised Ashido’s arm high above her head and pointed at the inside of her armpit. “Class. Do you know what this is?”
The students waited with baited breath.
“Your ticklish spot. Thanks, Ashido! Go sit down!”
A couple of the students smiled or giggled. Why yes, I am a dork, thank you.
“Sensei,” Yaoyorozu said. Izuku nodded at her. “Is this first aid? I haven’t read this sort of thing in my books.”
“It’s actually more physical therapy. Since your work will place such high performance demands on your bodies, I try to infuse some physical therapy knowledge into the search and rescue curriculum when I can,” Izuku explained. “I’d be surprised if any first aid textbook actually explained where muscles and tendons attach or how to lock the spine for a targeted intervention for back pain treatment.”
“Lock the spine?” Ashido said. “That sounds kinda dangerous.”
“It’s only temporary. Sometimes if--well, it’d be much easier to demonstrate on a volunteer. Who wants to go next?!”
The usual suspects shot their hands up at the speed of light but Izuku passed over them again. This time, he picked Todoroki, because what Izuku was about to do entailed laying his hands on the student’s body; he didn’t need to deal with how Bakugo or Kirishima would take that today.
Sadly, choosing a different student meant he still had to deal with his mentees.
Like Kirishima glaring daggers down at Todoroki while Izuku pinned Todoroki’s trunk down on a row of desks lined up for him to lie down on, while also manually rotating his pelvis in the opposite direction.
“Now keep your bottom leg down on the desk, but raise your top leg into my hand. You’re a bit stiff, Todoroki. You should stretch your back muscles more.”
The edge of the desk crunched between Kirishima’s fingers.
“I’m more flexible than he is and ya never ask me t’spread ma fucking legs!” Bakugo growled.
“Bakugo, control yourself!” Izuku snapped. He honestly pitied Bakugo’s classmates sometimes.“Todoroki, I’m going to keep my hand on top of your calf here. I’m going to apply pressure and I want you to use resist the force I’m exerting just enough to keep your leg right where you have it now until I tell you to rest. Is that clear?”
They did this several times, until Todoroki said his back pain was gone. The tension in the air (supplied by Seething Alphas 1 and 2) diminished considerably. But the next thing was, in hindsight, all Izuku’s fault.
“My back pain is often mostly on my left side,” Todoroki said as he rolled onto his feet. He rubbed at the small of his back. “But I’m just as flexible on both sides.”
“Oh? Let me do a scoliosis check. Take off your shirt.”
A bare-chested Todoroki stood right in front of Izuku, facing away…and then bent forward at the waist.
Bakugo tossed Todoroki across the room.
“C’mon, guys! It’s all good!” Ashido said, sweating as she tried to distract a heaving Bakugo from charging Todoroki. “Let’s focus on sensei! He might teach us more!”
Izuku didn’t want to intervene because none of them were delicate flowers, Bakugo’s sterling intimidation abilities aside. Besides, Todoroki might be able to knock a little self-restraint into him. But Izuku distracted the two alphas long enough for them to cool down. With the demonstrations over, the conversation turned to the history and development of search and rescue as a field of heroics.
“Sensei,” Todoroki said quietly, waiting until Izuku looked up from his work before he continued, “I am only curious. Many non-specialized pros only dream of having a super strength quirk like yours. It would make the brunt of their work easier and grant them an enviable shot at the top rankings. So I wonder, why did you choose to specialize in search and rescue?”
Izuku blanched. Sure, he’d given an answer a million times but…
He smiled at Todoroki. “Personal reasons! You should always nurture your curiosity! It’ll be useful when solving crimes! I admire students who are still curious when they’re up to their ears in studying and training!”
“Well,” Bakugo began, “if it’s a secret, you can always tell me ‘n’ Kiri. We keep all yer confidences.”
Izuku had a sinking feeling…
Redirect. “So does anyone have any questions about adduction or joints?” he asked.
“Teach. What made you wanna become a search and rescue specialist?” Bakugo croaked.
For the first time since Bakugo had warmed up to him in his first year, a part of Izuku wanted out. UA had procedures for alphas and omegas in their cycles: Bakugo clearly needed to spend the next four to six days holed up in his dorm, ASAP.
“That’s all I have time to teach you today,” Izuku said, getting to his feet and gathering his things. “Another time we’ll do something more substantial!”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Sensei, I’ll collect your stuff!” said Kirishima. Izuku nodded in thanks and sat at his desk. Phew. He massaged his eyes for a while, not wanting to even look at his students.
Todoroki and Yaoyorozu bowed their thanks for the lesson. “Have a good night, Sensei.”
Ashido bounded up to Izuku’s desk, while Bakugo started after her; Kirishima yanked him back until the blond stopped looking like he was going to bite her to death. “That was fun! I love the hands-on exercises! Will any of that be on the exam?” she asked hopefully.
“Ah, no!” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his head. “Unfortunately not. These sessions are for helping you grow above and beyond UA’s base curriculum!”
Ashido tried to conceal her disappointment; Izuku smiled sympathetically. She was very capable and trying to improve, but she was not known for academic intelligence.
“Well thank you for the lesson, sensei! Have a good night!” She bowed and went on her way.
When the sound of the first aid kit meeting his desk reached Izuku’s ears, he lowered his hand to look at Kirishima’s eyes that were pleasantly unclouded by rut. Izuku gave him a small smile. Then Kirishima leaned on the desk in one of the quintessential dominance postures Izuku had seen in his old alpha-omega textbooks. The student smiled toothily and said, “You gonna have a home-cooked meal waiting for you tonight, Sensei?”
Really? Izuku went back to massaging his eyes.
“Thank you for gathering my kit, Kirishima,” Izuku said, still with his fingers in his orbital sockets. “I think you’d better escort Bakugo back to his dorm. Let Aizawa-sensei know he’ll be in isolation there until his rut ends.”
“What th--I’m not in rut, Teach!”
“Ideally right now, Kirishima.”
“YOU FUCKING THINK I’M HORMONAL?!”
Ugh.
“KIRI, HE THINKS WE’RE HORMONAL! YER FUCKIN’ IGNORING US!”
Emotional, irrational, territorial, and even more aggressive than normal with that public display bit…
“Well, man, maybe you wanna take a walk with me, ‘kay? Let’s go take a walk…”
Katsuki growled--low, deep, guttural, like a true animal.
“Teach. TEACH. Why the FUCK did you become a search and rescue specialist, hah!?”
“I have a headache now, Bakugo,” Izuku grumbled. “Let me grade my papers and go home.”
“Yeah, c’mon, let’s get outta here, bro…”
“SHUT UP, KIRI! WHY?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Izuku said with some of his weariness infusing his tone. “You don’t want to talk about this. What you want is omega scent and a fleshlight. If you don’t have one, the school--”
“Not in pre. Teach, I’m not. Stop...FUCKING…ignoring…”
“Bakugo,” Izuku whispered.
“STAHP TALKIN’ OVER ME!”
…Enough.
Izuku directed his gaze at Kirishima with all the psychic force he could muster. “Kirishima,” he said icily and with perfect articulation, “would you like to be my only favorite student?”
Kirishima looked at Bakugo, who had deflated as though he’d just been sucker punched.
“Fuck, ahm, sssss…” Bakugo said slowly, shaking and looking lost and confused yet still angry. All his blastiness had up and vanished. “Ahm sssssorry, Teach. Ssssensei…‘msssorry.”
Izuku suddenly laughed, his face brightening considerably once he saw his bluff had worked. He waved dismissively at them. “Go thou further off. Let me hear thee going,” he said.
Kirishima blinked.
“Hah?” said Bakugo.
Izuku just looked at them, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He winked. “GTFO.”
With a confused backward glance, they GTFOed.
Ice Voice should keep Bakugo on the rocks for at least a day. Once in a while, Izuku used that ace up his sleeve. Hurt to watch its effects though.
Until All Might had gifted him his quirk, Izuku’d been bullied. Hard.
His boundaries were still wonky from it. And when bullies came calling in the present day, what would his resistance achieve anyway? His opinion was irrelevant to people like that.
But Bakugo and Kirishima would never, ever, be that way with him. That’s why he let them be a little inappropriate.
The next morning, upon his desk were two fresh apples the color of Izuku’s eyes.