Chapter Text
Katsuki drew all the attention to himself rather than the child.
He had just screamed the name of a stranger—or rather, the name of that child.
He rushed toward him, desperate to hug him, to look at him, to touch him—to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
He didn’t think about anything else.
Everyone stood frozen, shocked.
Even Izuku never imagined hearing his name in this place.
The only times he’d heard it before were when the masked man called him—when he wanted something.
When he was preparing to hu—
“Katsuki Bakugou!”
Aizawa suddenly stepped between them, blocking Bakugou’s path.
Katsuki blinked, startled to find his teacher standing right in front of him.
He tried to peer past Aizawa to catch another glimpse of the person behind him, but failed.
Moments later, he was pulled out of the classroom.
The rest of the class remained in stunned silence, trying to process what had just happened in a matter of seconds.
Eri stood there awkwardly, glancing quickly at Izuku to make sure he was okay.
Izuku, meanwhile, stared at the door Aizawa and the blonde boy had exited through.
He looked just as lost as everyone else.
Then, a small voice cut through the silence.
“Um… What just happened?”
Izuku looked at the girl.
Her skin was pink, with little yellow horns poking through hair as soft and rosy as her complexion.
No one answered.
She stood from her chair, clearly expecting some kind of response.
But Izuku didn’t have one—not even for himself.
And even if he did… how could he communicate it?
Minutes passed in awkward silence.
Then the door opened again.
Aizawa walked in, looking tired, and nodded at Katsuki to sit back down.
Bakugou returned to his seat, his head lowered.
It was an unusual sight for his classmates.
He stole a brief, sad glance at Izuku, but said nothing.
Aizawa stood at his desk, scanning the room—his students, and then Izuku.
“Midoriya,” he said.
No response.
“Izuku,” he tried again.
Izuku’s head lifted slightly at the sound of the name they used.
Aizawa looked relieved… but also hurt.
Izuku didn’t know what to do.
But then Eri stepped to his side and took his hand.
Strangely, it helped.
He felt calmer.
“Is that your name?”
Aizawa asked.
Izuku nodded.
Things had just gotten much more complicated, and Aizawa knew it.
He ran both hands over his face, elbows propped on the desk.
The kidnapping case of Izuku Midoriya: 10 years old.
No information. No witnesses. No clues. No leads.
And now, five years later, here he was—fifteen years old. Alive.
Which meant... he had survived that place for five whole years.
Probably tortured.
Back before teaching at U.A., Aizawa had been involved in clearing difficult police cases, which is why he had strong ties to the department.
The Midoriya case had been one of the hardest.
It remained unsolved to this day.
Aizawa never imagined the missing child could be this one.
But now, looking at him—the green hair, the freckles, those green eyes—it was obvious.
He’d just changed so much.
Still… it felt like an excuse.
Even after five years, he should have recognized him.
He should have.
“Sensei?”
A voice spoke from the front row.
It was Mashirao Ojiro.
“What’s going on?”
Aizawa looked at his students, then at Bakugou—who was still watching Izuku like he might disappear.
Another sigh escaped Aizawa.
That must’ve been the tenth today.
Even for him, that was a record.
“Pardon me. This child was recently rescued from the villain Maestro—you may have seen it on the news. We didn’t know who he was or what he went through in that facility.”
He paused, gathering himself.
Then, looking his students in the eyes:
“But thanks to Bakugou, we might finally understand. I can’t confirm anything yet, but this child will likely be staying at U.A. for a while.”
Bakugou’s head lifted at that.
Izuku, on the other hand, looked even more confused.
“Class is canceled for now. I’m sorry you had to witness this. I need to inform Nezu about everything.”
The classroom erupted into murmurs as Aizawa, Izuku, and Eri left once again.
Everyone else remained—confused, invested, and thoroughly intrigued.
Later, after the chaos had died down and Nezu had been informed, Aizawa finally collapsed in the teacher’s lounge with a cup of coffee.
Izuku kept to himself in a dark corner of the room, trying to stay unnoticed.
He was panicking—feeling responsible for causing a scene. He curled in on himself, overcome with guilt.
Eri tried to comfort him, but he pulled away.
She sat beside Aizawa instead, giving Izuku space.
“Mister Aizawa... what’s going to happen to—” she hesitated, “—Izuku?”
Aizawa looked down at her, gently running a hand through her hair.
“We’ll inform his mother that he’s alive. Then... we’ll see. I don’t know what kind of future he’ll have, but hopefully, the best one.”
He glanced at Izuku, still curled up in the corner.
It pained him to see the boy blame himself, despite all Aizawa's reassurances.
“Mother?”
Eri asked innocently.
“Yes… he has a mother.”
He didn’t explain further—not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how to.
Eri didn’t ask again.
She just sipped her hot chocolate.
The lounge was quiet. Still. Safe.
The overwhelming morning faded beneath the calm.
Eventually, Izuku started to relax.
Being in a corner calmed him.
Being in the dark calmed him.
But not being punished… confused him.
Why could he cause a commotion and not be punished?
Why could he be selfish and still receive kindness?
Why was their care so genuine? Didn’t they want something in return?
He wished they did.
That way, he’d know what to expect.
At least then, he wouldn’t be afraid they’d leave.
A useful tool is better than a pretty doll.
That’s what he had learned.
As they sat, doing nothing in particular, calm slowly returned—until the next commotion.
A problematic child, indeed.
When Present Mic burst into the room, loud as ever, it startled Izuku—who looked up and screamed.
The light. The golden hair. That smile.
He vomited.
Memories flooded back—experiments, pain, that voice.
Not even the return of darkness helped this time.
He convulsed.
He had never reacted like this before.
He hated it.
Every second of it.
If being rescued meant this—shaking from a single memory—then he would’ve rather stayed in the facility.
At least there, everything followed a predictable routine.
No surprises.
No hope.
No feelings.
No betrayal.
And then—
He blacked out.
Present Mic had no idea the kids were in the lounge.
Class was supposed to still be in session.
When he strode in, all smiles and energy, lighting up the lounge, shouting his signature greeting—
He didn’t expect a scream in return.
He panicked and turned, searching for the source.
Aizawa was already rushing to Izuku, yelling for the lights to be turned off.
Present Mic did so instinctively.
Eri ran to Izuku as well.
Mic was confused, but followed.
“What happened? What did I do?! I didn’t know— I’m sorry!”
Tears gathered in his eyes as he knelt beside the convulsing boy.
He had never heard a scream that intense—not even from his own quirk.
Aizawa shoved him aside.
Not out of anger, but to get space to help Izuku.
He gently moved Eri, too.
She covered her ears from the screaming, her own tears now falling.
Present Mic pulled her into a hug, rocking her gently even though he was still panicking.
Then—
Silence.
Aizawa had rendered Izuku unconscious.
He lifted the boy into his arms and rushed toward the infirmary.
Present Mic remained, holding Eri, both of them trembling.
He stroked her hair and back, calming her the only way he knew how.
They sat in silence.
Both of them needing—
desperately—
another hot chocolate.
When Aizawa returned—without Izuku—he sighed once more.
At this rate, he was going to break his personal record for most sighs in a day.
He noticed that both Eri and Present Mic had calmed down.
Honestly, he had been worried Eri would take it badly, but seeing her smile return eased his mind. Maybe he had worried for nothing.
Still, he apologized nonetheless, to both her and Present Mic for yelling earlier.
“It’s fine… It was urgent. You had to take care of the kid,”
Present Mic replied sincerely, running a hand through his blonde hair.
“I didn’t even realize there were people in the lounge. The lights were off and class was still in session. I should’ve been more careful... You even warned me the kid was scared of sudden brightness. He must’ve been really affected.”
His voice was dejected, heavy with guilt over unintentionally scaring the child.
Aizawa didn’t like seeing Present Mic like this.
He was supposed to be the gloomy one, not him.
“It was bound to happen eventually. And honestly, I should’ve put a sign on the door—something like ‘Do not shout or flip the lights.’ We both messed up. Hopefully, it won’t leave any lasting damage.”
He spoke quietly, trying to ease the guilt weighing on his friend’s shoulders.
Aizawa sat down beside Eri, still feeling bad for leaving her in such a confused state earlier.
“Was your hot chocolate good?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded.
He felt a wave of relief wash over him.
Even though he had apologized earlier, he felt compelled to do it again.
“It’s alright,”
She said, sounding a little more mature than her age,
“It was urgent. I wasn’t hurt. It was just a little overwhelming. But I’m strong!”
She smiled proudly.
Aizawa couldn’t help but reach over and ruffle her hair.
She giggled softly at the gesture.
“If you say you’re okay, that’s good—but remember, if anything does hurt, it’s always okay to say so,” he reminded her gently.
Eri stopped swinging her feet and looked down at the mug still warm in her hands.
“I know. But I really am not hurt. I just hope Izuku will be alright.”
Present Mic turned away slightly, trying—and failing—to hide his tears.
The quiet, heartfelt exchange between the two was just too sweet for his sentimental heart.
Aizawa noticed, but said nothing.
Probably because he was already drained from the morning’s chaos—even though it was only 10 a.m.
He silently wished the rest of the day would pass without further trouble.
He really hoped.