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"Problem Child.”

Izuku Midoriya snapped to attention at the call, head tilting upright and neck giving a ‘crack’ as he straightened awkwardly. 

The firm, but quiet voice buzzed through the haze of confusion and muddled thought, forcing Iuzku blinking back to awareness and startling alert. His hands shook unexpectedly, vision blurring at the corners as the world grew too bright for a brief moment as he realized what’d happened.  

Ah.

The boy’s face flushed in embarrassment, his ears and neck growing warm. The realization that people were sniggering to his left and Aizawa-Sensei was giving him that look that ventured somewhere between a questioning scowl and a full on glare of disapproval had his stomach twisting uncomfortably, chest tightening as he tried to steady his thoughts and push away the drowsiness and the slosh of nausea that threatened to burble up his throat. 

Ah. 

The near-glower continued to focus on him, making Izuku feel something like a bug under a microscope and Izuku did, indeed feel small sitting here, his hands tingling, the ache in his shoulders and neck signaling he’d moved too quickly. The sudden waking had left him feeling unsettled, and Aizawa-Sensei’s stare hadn’t improved matters much. 

He hated that look, especially when it was directed at him. Somehow it made the boy feel…small. 

Insignificant.  

"Am I boring you?"

Izuku balked at the question.

What? Boring?  

"N-no!"

The man’s eyes narrowed at the fumbled refute that tripped from Izuku’s mouth in a rather pathetic way.

God he hated how it sounded even to him. Even Izuku wouldn’t believe himself. 

"Then why are we making it a habit to sleep in class?" Aizawa-Sensei’s gaze narrowed and he continued to frown, his lips dipping deeper downward as  he stood with arms crossed, peering at Izuku from his position at the chalkboard. He hadn’t moved from his lecture spot since the beginning of class. 

He’d paused his lecture to…lecture Izuku. In front of everyone. 

The boy wanted to melt into a puddle and sink through the floor. Feeling ten times worse than stupid. 

“You should know better, kid.”

Ouch. 

If Izuku could have disintegrated into nothing right then and there,  he would have, his own frustration at being tired trickling through him, guilt beginning to gnaw. The need for sleep completely fled, his flurrying sense of dread outweighing any sense of tiredness he might have claimed to have felt as guilt began to bloom instead. 

Why couldn’t he just pay attention? 

Why was it so hard to just stay awake?  

Yes. The boy could admit that he’d have infinitely preferred turning into a pile of ashes to the abject humiliation at being called out in such a manner in the middle of class, and by someone that he…that Izuku…

The kid swallowed down his regret. 

Because as it was though, here he sat. 

And it’s not like this was the first time he’d ever dozed off in a class, if he wanted to be honest about it all. And Izuku couldn’t help the thought from springing forth as he considered his situation. 

This wasn’t just something completely out of the ordinary for him. He’d been prone to dozing before now. 

Except, that ‘dozing’ was more of daydreaming or ‘muttering’ as he wrote furiously in his notebook. He’d never actually fallen asleep before. 

And certainly never in Aizawa-Sensei’s class. 

“Problem Child.” 

And of all the classes he could have fallen asleep in it had to be this one. Aizawa-Sensei wasn’t one to be lenient, least of all to someone who’d fallen asleep in the middle of one of his lectures--” 

“Problem Child.” 

Had it been Mic-Sensei, he might have gotten a pass. Maybe even with Cementoss too. Midnight? Probably not. And Ecto? Definitely not. He was terrifying enough. Izuku didn’t want to find out what would happen if he’d fallen asleep there. 

But Aizawa-Sensei? 

“Midoriya?” 

Aizawa-Sensei was probably one of the more intimidating of the teachers. And Izuku certainly had a great deal of respect for the man so falling asleep in his class was kind of like a slap in the face. Utmost disrespect and oh--

There was a hard ‘Slam’ and the emerald-eyed boy jumped in alarm, eyes darting up to meet the dark gaze and the haphazard coils of capture weapon and floating ebony locks of the underground hero as Shouta Aizawa leaned over his desk, palms flat on the top, eyes trained on Izuku. 

“Out. Now. ” 

The boy blinked slowly, his brain working to catch up with the wild beating of his heart. 

Realization dawned on him and he felt the color drain from his face as red tinted his ears and warmed the back of his neck. 

He was…

He was being kicked out of class. 

“Midoriya.” 

Even in middle school he’d never been kicked out of class before. 

“Midoriya!” 

Another startled jump and a deep sigh from Aizawa-Sensei had Izuku peeking up once more towards the front. 

His teacher looked positively exasperated. 

“Did you hear me, Problem Child? You’ve wasted enough of class time. I said out. Now . Go to the teacher’s lounge and wait until I get there.” 

And oh. 

Oh no . 

Nineteen pairs of eyes swiveled towards him and Izuku felt his stomach given an uncomfortable flip as he caught himself in the middle of a staring contest with Eraserhead, who was most definitely using his quirk-staring advantage to its utmost. 

He was never going to win this. Izuku knew that. 

The boy felt his vision begin to tunnel as he panic and anxiety skyrocketed. With a defeated sigh, the boy quietly averted his gaze and hastily collected his belongings, pushing himself to his feet with little resistance, his fingers pushing against his desk, oozing disappointment. 

Of all the stupid things…

Of all the idiotic and stupid things he could have done...

Sluggishly, his feet dragged along the floor as he made his way down the aisle, slowly maneuvering past Bakugou who gave a low ‘tch’ before slouching further from Izuku’s person,  and then parading in front of Aizawa whose eyes remained trained on him, frown deepening with each footfall, before he was at the door. 

And here he hesitated. 

Because if he went out that door...he’d be admitting that he’d failed. 

And he hated failure more than anything else. He hated being cast into that category. 

“Go.” The command wasn’t as harsh as it’d been a moment ago, but his Sensei’s voice still cut him. 

And with a defeated sigh, the boy turned the knob and pushed into the hall, embarrassment trailing with each footstep. 

Shouta’s observations started more as a curiosity than anything else. 

A lingering question that quickly turned into more of a concern the longer he paid attention to the situation and the issue that seemed to linger beneath. 

The first day the underground hero watched, he’d only caught glimpses of the boy’s head tilting downward before jerking back up again. Everyone now and then, mind. 

The next it was more of the same. More frequently though. And for longer periods. Sometimes the man could see the lingering snuffle of a sigh escape the boy’s mouth before he managed to rouse himself and come back. 

And yet…

Shouta was, understandably, concerned when, for the third day in a row he watched Izuku Midoriya’s head dip forward, eyes fluttering closed, pencil poised in hand as though he were taking notes.

It was out of the ordinary. An oddity. 

And Shouta was, understandably, concerned, eyes narrowed in questioning.

Because this wasn’t normal. 

Not for this boy.  

For the third day in a row, he watched Izuku Midoriya’s head dip forward, eyes fluttering closed, pencil poised in hand as though he were taking notes.

The previous days, the boy had managed to jerk himself awake, back to awareness and to his studies, if a bit sluggish in his pursuits. But today? 

Today he watched the head dip, shoulders sag, and breathing even out. The boy had fallen. 

He was sound asleep. 

And wasn’t that odd...

Problem Child never slept in class. 

In fact, of all his students, barring Yaoyorozu and Iida perhaps, Izuku Midoriya wasn’t one to idle away his time in class at all. He was often scribbling furiously in those notebooks of his--Shouta had seen the notes--and was currently one of the top students in 1-A.

So, it was a cause for the underground hero to pause when he noticed the deep purple bags beneath exhausted emerald eyes. Concern grew as blinks slowed down and eyelids drooped. A head tipped forward, chin tucking to chest as Midoriya slipped into slumber.

In the middle of his lecture. 

Now, part of him wanted to chastise the boy, make a spectacle of his clear lack of consideration for his teacher as well as his fellow classmates. But..

But on further inspection of the situation Shouta discovered something telling. 

Something problematic. 

The boy wasn’t, in fact, sound asleep. Twitching muscles and eyelids a keen indicator of that. And, deep bags that rivaled his own were peeking beneath long lashes. 

The boy wasn’t sleeping. 

And he suspected the reason why. 

Ah, hell Problem Child. 

So, with a bit more consideration (not much) than he’d give other students, he called Izuku Midoriya to attention, giving him a mild (in his case) chastising before sending him to the teacher’s lounge. 

And then his stomach dropped slightly at the utter look of defeat in the boy’s gaze as he dragged himself, knees nearly buckling as he pushed himself through the door. 

Shouta’s fingers twitched as the urge to move after the wayward and wearied boy ticked at his senses. 

But…

He turned back to the nineteen pairs of eyes on him and cleared his throat. 

“Let’s continue.” 

He hoped Midoriya could make it to the lounge with little issue. 

Hizashi wasn’t expecting to find anyone in the teacher’s lounge in the middle of class time, least of all a student. 

And certainly never Izuku Midoriya. That kid would never willingly miss a class yet here he sat, tucked into himself, cradling his backpack in his hands as he perched on the far end of the couch. With a vacant expression, the boy stared at the blue carpet, lips pulled into a thin line. 

Oh.  

Oh, that meant Shouta had…

And here Hizashi frowned, fingers curling at his sides. 

Why would Shouta have asked one of his better students to leave? 

“Hey there, little listener,” He posited softly, frowning when Midoriya didn’t acknowledge his presence. 

Hell, the kid didn’t even blink . Hyper-focused on the pattern in the carpet, it was as if the boy was in his own world, brows drawn together, vision near unseeing. 

And that was concerning. 

So, because he didn’t have another class for a few hours, the voice hero eased himself onto the opposite end of the couch, ensuring that both his footfalls and movements were loud enough so as not to startle the boy. 

“Hey there, listener,” he tried again, raising the pitch of his voice ever so slightly. He watched Izuku Midoriya stiffen at the comment, scarred hands curling tighter around his backpack as he cast a sidelong glance towards the voice hero, his gaze betraying the resignation he felt. 

Concern instantly bloomed in the man’s chest and Hizashi understood now, or at least suspected why Shou had asked Midoriya to vacate the classroom and come here. Deep bags beneath an emerald gaze met him. Gaunt, pinched cheeks devoid of color emphasized the smattering of freckles on the kid’s cheeks. 

Midoriya looked dead on his feet, as though a stiff breeze would send him sprawling. . 

And, undoubtedly, Shouta had noticed. 

And intended to do something about, knowing him as he did. 

Still…

Knowing him as he did, and judging by Midoriya’s rather morose expression and his apparent anxiety with even looking at Hizashi, Shouta had probably been a bit more gruff than he’d intended. 

It was just his nature. 

And though he suspected he knew, he decided to ask anyway...

“Care to tell me why you’re here, eh?” He queried of the boy, earning a flickering of a gaze that returned to scarred hands and a sigh that betrayed the sorrow the boy obviously felt. 

“I--uh,” Midoriya hedged, fiddling with the straps of his pack. “I, uh, fell asleep...in Aizawa-Sensei’s class.”

If possible the boy’s face paled further at the thought he’d voiced aloud, even as his ears turned a spectacular shade of crimson. Shoulders hunched and Izuku Midoriya tucked into himself and cradled his bag a little more tightly to his chest, clearly embarrassed.  

Ah . He’d been right. On both counts it seemed, because Midoriya seemed to think this was a dire situation and he was being reprimanded. 

He needed to reassure the boy. 

“You know, little listener,” He began, “I once fell asleep in class.” The voice hero grinned easily, relaxing his posture and throwing his arms across the back of the couch as he peered towards Midoriya, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Hizashi never did well with serious situations. “I started snoring right in the middle of maths.” 

He met the furrowed brows and curious glance of the fifteen year old boy who’d turned his face towards his English teacher, frown on his lips. 

He said nothing, though, so Hizashi continued. 

“You should have seen it, kid” he joked easily, a laugh bubbling in his chest, “The snore was so loud that it cracked the windows and shattered the teacher’s vase of flowers on her desk.” 

“I’m fairly certain that was an heirloom vase too, ‘Zashi.” 

Hizashi watched as Midoriya’s face contorted from a mildly neutral and curious gaze back to a terrified and resigned one. 

Ah, hell Shouta. Timing. 

Peering over the top of Midoriya’s head he leveled a look at Shouta, noting the other’s thoughtful expression as he stared at the boy, arms crossed and nosed tucked into his capture weapon as he leaned against the doorframe. 

He did that same move when he was worried. 

Onyx flickered towards him and Hizashi caught the warning beneath the stoicism and suddenly things clicked more clearly. 

This was about…

Ah. Of course it was. 

Hizashi should have realized it. He should have noticed the signs. 

‘Code: Loud Cloud’

Midoriya was having nightmares again. 

And he’d not told Shouta about them. 

Ah, dammit. 

Yeah. He understood now. 

Izuku could feel the way his heart hammered in his chest, could hear the ticking of the clock above the door frame as the trio of them lapsed into a tense silence. 

Izuku sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything. He didn’t know if he could. His tongue felt fat in his mouth, his throat tight. 

And there was a burning in his eyes that was so distracting that he didn’t even know what to say to his Senseis in this instance. 

Turns out, he didn’t have to. 

“Well, kiddo, I’ll leave you to it, then.” There was a warm hand ruffling his hair, and Izuku turned to the kind smile that greeted him as he tilted his face up towards the voice hero. 

Kind eyes crinkled around the edges as Mic-Sensei, widened his grin before turning to Aizawa. 

“Don’t scare him too bad, eh Shou?” he remarked lightly, lightly tapping a beat along the door frame as he traipsed through. 

The silence returned and Izuku stayed seated, eyes picking apart the pattern on the carpet once more. 

And he waited. 

And waited. 

And waited for the inevitable chastising that was going to take place. 

Because this was Aizawa-Sensei and he never--

“Come with me, Problem Child. To my office.” 

And there it was. 

Izuku could feel the way his palms had started sweating as he finally took the time to look towards his Sensei, spying the familiar frown, and the hard glint in the man’s eye as he waited for Midoriya to lift himself from the couch. 

And Izuku really didn’t want to. 

“Now, Problem Child,” The gruff reply rumbled through the air as Aizawa-Sensei sighed disapprovingly. “We don’t have all day and I have papers to grade.”

And this was it, wasn’t it? 

He had no choice. 

Izuku Midoriya hoisted himself upward, ignoring the way his head spun. He blinked a few times to steady his vision before following after his Sensei, down the long hallway, past the communal computer area, and towards the offices. 

Aizawa-Sensei’s office was at the back, tucked into a quiet corner. Izuku had only been there a few times, but he knew the path well and recognized the dark wooden door. 

The underground hero said nothing on the walk, hands tucked carefully into his pockets, stack of papers tucked beneath arm as they walked. He only removed his hand to jangled the keys and unlock the door, before waving Izuku forward, inside the dimly lit room. 

“Come on then, kid,” he rumbled quietly, shutting the door once the boy had shuffled inside.

Idly he gestured towards the couch along the far wall, turning towards his computer. 

“Sit, kid. Before you pass out on me, yeah?” 

And, oh. 

Iuzku didn’t know how to react to that except to do as he was told. Slowly he moved towards the couch, easing himself onto the worn, blue cushions as he pulled his book bag closer to his chest again, waiting for his Sensei to finish, setting files down on his desk. 

Verdant gaze assessed the room, noting the large bookshelf crammed with a myriad of different tomes, of different shapes and sizes and thicknesses. Scattered along these shelves were some small knick knacks and a few picture frames with old photographs. One nearest the window caught his eye. It was a small thing, couched in a pale oak frame. In the photo itself, three people, by the looks of it. 

Izuku squinted, his tired eyes straining to decipher the faces from his position on the sofa. 

“Midoriya.” 

There was a blonde fellow. Wild, flying hairstyle and quirky glasses all but assured Izuku that it was Present Mic. he knew that Aizawa-Sensei had gone to school together so it made sense that he’d have photos of the pair of them. 

“Problem Child.” 

That meant that the dark haired kid in the middle of the photo had to be Aizawa-Sensei, and judging from the looks of it, the younger version of Eraserhead looked just as exhausted and displeased as the current one. Not only that, but he also looked a bit like Shinsou, if Izuku were being honest. 

They had the same eyes. 

But it was the third person in the photo that held Midoriya’s attention. Flame-blue hair that swirled upwards. 

Large, toothy smile and sparkling, mischievous eyes. 

Izuku was certain he’d never seen that man before, so who was he? Was he a pro hero, perhaps? Or just a regular civilian now? It was clear that he was someone that the underground hero appreciated so, why had Iuzku never heard of him before? 

Large hands dropped into his field of vision and Izuku visibly jerked in surprise as Shouta Aizawa crouched before him, one hand coming to rest on the boy’s backpack. 

“Let’s have that” He remarked quietly, pulling the large yellow bag away from Izuku’s stiff fingers and tight grip, “I’ll set it by the door in a minute.” 

The boy only stared at his Sensei in confusion as the bag slipped from his hands, sliding off his lap and landing with a soft, ‘plunk’ by the edge of the couch. 

He didn’t understand. Not at all. And it made Izuku’s chest ache as he watched his Sensei continue crouch before him, eyes scanning his face in a thoughtful manner, lips pulled thin. 

No, Izuku didn’t understand. . 

Wasn’t he here to talk about...class? 

“Midoriya” the man sighed after a moment of silent staring. “When was the last time you slept, kid?” 

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out after a moment. “I really didn’t mean to fall asleep. I realize that it was disrespectful of me and I promise--” 

“Kid. I don’t care about what happened in class” the man remarked, a hand coming to rest on the boy’s shoulder as Aizawa continued to crouch before his student, leveling their gazes. “When was the last time you slept?” 

He didn’t care about the…? 

He didn’t care? 

“Kid? When was the last time you got some sleep?” 

Aizawa repeated the question again, clearly demanding an answer. His gaze was decided and firm, but not unkind. 

And it was very familiar to another instance, and another conversation. 

And Izuku’s answer was the same as it had been that time as well. 

And one he didn’t want to admit to. 

Because it meant that he’d also have to admit that he couldn’t do this on his own and that he was being a bother. And he hated feeling that way, hated feeling like he was taking advantage of the goodness of others. 

“I can see those thoughts whirring in your head kid. Stop them. Now.” 

The boy blinked back to awareness again, his mind grinding to a halt at the frown leveled at him. 

Aizawa-Sensei’s gaze was growing more concerned as he tilted his head thoughtfully, a low hum rumbling in his chest. 

“At least a week I’d wager,” He muttered after a moment, “Judging by the bags beneath your eyes.” 

And then the man snorted, a wry smile working its way onto his normally grouchy face. 

“You’re rivaling me now, with those bags, kid.” 

There was a soft squeeze of his shoulder and a deep sigh before Shouta Aizawa straightened with a small ‘pop’ in his knees. Izuku stared, wide eyed, as the man reached behind the couch and pulled out a large bundle of dark grey fabric. 

A blanket. 

The surprisingly heavy material dropped into the stunned boy’s lap and he stared up at the man with a curious gaze. 

“I don’t--” he swallowed, “I don’t…” 

“You need sleep , kid.” the reply was blunt as Aizawa frowned at him, “You can’t keep telling me you don’t need anything.” 

The man nearly rolled his eyes, but thought better of it at the last second. He didn’t want to patronize the kid. 

“I’m guessing it’s been a long time since you’ve had a decent sleep and you’re going to understand that if I can see it, so can others.” 

The glare narrowed further at the boy as the man squared his shoulders and appeared unruffled by the boy’s self-sacrificial defiance. 

It took forty-five minutes and the soft, calming sounds of rain pattering against windows for the boy to finally relax enough to let himself fall into any semblance of sleep. 

Forty-five minutes. 

Shouta sighed. 

Forty-five minutes for a restless slumber. 

And they’d have to talk about this once the boy woke. Because Midoriya couldn’t keep going this alone. He needed help. 

And it would start with Shouta looking out for him. 

That was a good first step. nightmares again and we’ll talk about that... after you get some rest.” 

At this Izuku swallowed because he wasn’t certain he could . He was afraid of what he’d see if he closed his eyes. 

He was afraid of reliving that.

The death. 

The loss. 

The looming dread of his future with All for One.

It terrified him, more than he cared to admit.  

“I can’t .” he finally croaked tiredly, exhaustion dripping through each word spoken and unspoken. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t get the thoughts to stop. He couldn’t get the images to stop. 

Izuku was tired. 

He was so tired. He just...he just wanted...

A hand came to rest on the thick material in the boy’s hands. 

“ Try .” Aizawa-Sensei remarked quietly. “It’s either here on this couch or in the nurse’s office. Either way, you’re going to try to rest. You can’t keep doing this. We have to work through it, kid. Okay?” 

The boy could feel the bone-wearied ache pull at his senses. He could feel the burning behind his eyes, begging for reprieve. 

“Why?” He finally muttered. “Why do you care?” 

The comment sounded harsh, even to Izuku’s ears, but he needed to know. 

He needed…

“Because, we’re the same kid” The response was quiet as Aizawa sighed tiredly. “We’ve both lost things important to us. But we have to keep trying, yeah?”

There was a soft smile directed towards him, containing both bitterness and compassion. 

“I’m not going anywhere kid. I’ve got your back.”

And at that, Izuku’s shoulders sagged. 

Forty-five minutes later, Shouta Aizawa placed his pen down and turned towards the couch where the soft snuffles of an exhausted fifteen year old reverberated through the room. 

Tucked beneath the large, weighted blanket, Izuku Midoriya slumbered, nose burrowed in the soft fabric, wayward green curls framing a tired face.