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“Bullshit.” Shōta seethes, biting the word out with a sharp, clean snap of his teeth. There’s been a potent mix of disbelief and sick cold rage building inside of him since the moment Nezu opened his mouth.
“Now, now, Aizawa-kun,” Nezu chides almost absently from where he’s hopped up to sit on the edge of the couch, “calm down. Getting emotional will not resolve the situation any faster.”
“It’s a false accusation and we all know it Nezu,” Shōta doesn’t bother to acknowledge Nezu’s statement. Instead he just leans forward a bit in his desk chair and does his best not to grind his teeth.
“We’ve had numerous reports besides the initial one all saying the same thing,” Nezu points out calmly.
“Numerous reports founded on bullshit,” Shōta repeats, hands clenched into fists on his desktop. “And these students who reported the issue don’t even have regular contact with either Shinsō or Midoriya.”
“The dorm system has brought about an even higher degree of cross year interaction,” Nezu counters. “Add to that the time students may spend in the halls and cafeteria or various other places on campus as a whole and there’s ample time for unsupervised interactions.”
“Mostly within corresponding courses,” Shōta replies even as he reaches out to tap a finger on the top of the small stack of papers Nezu had handed him earlier. “These students are almost all in upper year Gen Ed. classes.”
“I think we’re missing the real point here,” Hizashi speaks up then from where he’s been leaning against Shōta’s desk, arms crossed and a frown tugging at his mouth.
He’d been the only other person in the lounge with Shōta when Nezu had come in. And given Hizashi’s status as Shinsō’s former homeroom teacher and knowing Nezu as he does, Shōta’s more than a bit certain that was by design. Most things with the principal are.
“Enlighten us, Yamada-kun,” Nezu prompts cheerfully.
“Shinsō adores Midoriya,” Hizashi points out, never one to shy away from the emotional avenue of a situation. He’s always been much more emotionally intelligent and socially aware compared to Shōta who has always been rooted much more firmly in logic. It’s just one of the many ways they balance each other. “It’s obvious every time they’re around each other. Shinsō wouldn’t do something like this to him. Hell, he wouldn’t have to since Midoriya obviously adores him back.”
Hizashi is, Shōta knows, completely correct. Even Shōta had been able to track the two’s speed run of a relationship despite it seeming to come completely out of nowhere in his opinion. But, then again, given how Midoriya had outright maimed himself in the Sports Festival and then somehow came out the other end with Todoroki almost surgically attached to his side, maybe it hadn’t been that unusual.
Shōta’s beginning to believe it might just be a Midoriya thing.
The kid pretty much wears his heart on his sleeve at any given moment but he’s also kind of unsettling in a way Shōta just can’t seem to put his finger on no matter how hard he tries.
“Regardless of his personal morals and attachment to Midoriya it's still not true,” Shōta cuts in then because he knows that the emotional avenue isn’t likely to be the argument that sways Nezu no matter how hard Hizashi tries. “The particulars of Shinsō’s quirk don’t work that way. He’s got a hard time limit and prerequisites. The kind of long term manipulation these reports are claiming is something beyond the known scope of his quirk.”
“Yeah,” Hizashi’s quick to say, a wry sort of twist to his mouth as he backs Shōta up without missing a beat. “And, even if it did work like that, with as many hits as Midoriya takes during training he’d have snapped out of Shinsō’s control ages ago.”
“You both make a number of excellent points,” Nezu agrees easily, his version of a smile pulling at his muzzle.
It’s then that the suspicion Shōta’s been harboring in the back of his mind the entire time finally solidifies.
Because Nezu knows all of this. Of course he does. There are days when Shōta’s more than a bit convinced that Nezu knows practically everything about everyone in UA.
If there’s anyone who appreciates and lives by the old adage of ‘knowledge is power’ it’s Nezu.
So of course he knows all about the ins and outs of Shinsō’s quirk. Of course he knows about his relationship with Midoriya even if there’s a self professed, and possibly misleading, disconnect when it comes to the emotional side of the entire matter.
So Nezu obviously knows that these accusations are, at best, students taking things out of context, or are, at worst, an active attempt to sabotage at least one Hero Course student’s life and career prospects.
Nezu knows all of this, Shōta’s sure of it.
He just doesn’t care.
There is, as there always seems to be with Nezu, something else at play here.
Something that Nezu values much more than the impact these rumors might have on two of Shōta’s students.
“Nevertheless,” Nezu waves the both of them off as he hops down off of the couch, “we still have to do our due diligence I’m afraid. Accusations such as these should never be taken lightly. Please bring both Shinsō-kun and Midoriya-kun to my office this afternoon once classes are done for the day.”
And, as far too often seems to be the case, Shōta’s obviously more than a few steps behind on whatever scheme Nezu has been cooking up.
“Oh,” Nezu stops at the door, “and do be sure to not say anything to either Shinsō-kun or Midoriya-kun as to the nature of our visit. Seeing their initial reactions in real time will doubtlessly be much more … informative.”
Just as quickly as he’d come, Nezu is gone, slipping out of the door silently and off to orchestrate more of his own unique brand of chaos no doubt.
For a long moment silence hangs thick and heavy over the room.
“He’s up to something,” Hizashi finally says, shoulders rounding in a sigh as he reaches up to pull his glasses off and massage the bridge of his nose.
“When isn’t he up to something?” Shōta huffs back, head thunking down onto his desk top. “Nezu schemes in his sleep.”
“Hmm,” Hizashi’s hand is warm and gentle on the nape of Shōta’s neck, long fingers kneading briefly at the tension that always seems to linger there. “All we can do is try to head him off at the pass.”
“Doesn’t matter what we do,” Shōta turns his head just enough that his words aren’t muffled by the wood anymore. “He’ll have already thought about it and found ways around it.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t still try,” Hizashi points out softly, hand squeezing his nape lightly before he lets go. “Now come on, kitten, time to get moving. We’ve got a little time before classes start so let’s do what we can to make sure the little listeners make it out of whatever this is in one piece. We can worry about everything else afterwards.”
Shōta gives himself another moment before he pushes himself up from his chair.
“I’ll catch Inui up to speed,” Shōta tells him. “If Nezu wants to have some kind of meeting with those two about this without calling in either Midoriya-san or Shinsō’s guardians then he shouldn’t refuse to allow a licensed pro and a counselor to sit in. You can get Recovery Girl to come too since she’s actually speaking to you right now.”
“Gotcha,” Hizashi agrees easily enough, glasses back in place and thumbs hooked over his belt buckle. “Counselor and school nurse, check and check. Me and you will both be expected to go, obviously, otherwise Nezu would’ve just cornered you with this instead of both of us. So that’s at least four people who can try and keep him in check. Think that’ll do it?”
“Yes,” Shōta nods even as he knows it’s a lie. There’s really no such thing as keeping Nezu in check unless he allows it and there’s at least one other person they should probably be including on this for a number of reasons.
And if the look Hizashi cuts at him over the rim of his glasses is anything to go by, he knows it as well.
“Fine,” Shōta sighs, “I’ll get the idiot. But it’ll be after he deals with the Hell Class for the day. There’s no way he’ll keep his mouth shut otherwise.”
Because, as Shōta has learned the hard way, if it involves Midoriya then it already does, or eventually will, also involve Yagi.
~~~
The rest of the day passes in a semi-peaceful manner overall.
Even when he tells both Midoriya and Shinsō to come to the teacher’s lounge after class, nothing more pressing than Bakugō and Kaminari both existing in close proximity to Shōta’s last, fragile nerve happens.
Even the extra close eye Shōta keeps on Shinsō and Midoriya, as well as the rest of their group of not so subtle delinquents by default, at every opportunity throughout the day doesn’t see anything too far out of the ordinary beyond Shinsō looking a little more tired than normal.
There are no signs of guilt or panic in Shinsō as far as Shōta can see, and no fear or relief to be found in Midoriya’s normal sort of jittery intensity.
There's no sign that he can find that points to there being any truth to those rumors to be seen in either of his students.
It sets a small part of Shōta to ease, seeing the day continue on as if nothing’s amiss even as a tension of sorts that Shōta can’t seem to shake settles itself across his shoulders. It’s an almost electric feeling, like the calm before the storm, that seems content to build on itself.
He does his best to tuck it away because, as Hizashi had said, the most important thing is to get the two boys through whatever it is Nezu’s trying to pull in one piece.
Then, hopefully, they can all move on and handle whatever comes afterwards later.
And, more importantly, Shōta can concentrate on getting to the bottom of these bullshit accusations. Because if they haven’t been made in good faith, if he finds out there’s a more sinister reasoning behind any of it …
Well.
There’s a reason why Shōta has the highest expulsion rate in UA history and, contrary to popular belief, not all of those students were in the Hero Course.
~~~
When Shinsō and Midoriya show up at the teacher’s lounge after classes just as instructed, Shōta wastes no time in leading the way to Nezu’s office.
They weave their way through the twists and turns of UA in silence before they finally come to a stop outside a door that pops open before Shōta can knock. Nezu and more of the little mind games and power plays he always seems to enjoy so much.
“Aizawa-sensei,” Nezu calls out from within the room, “right on time as always. Do come inside. Shinsō-kun and Midoriya-kun as well of course.”
Eager to get this done and over with, Shōta steps through the door, Shinsō and Midoriya following on his heels like silent little shadows.
Nezu sits behind his desk, customary teacup in hand and eyes fixed on Shōta’s students with an intensity that makes the hair on the back of his neck rise up just a bit.
Still Shōta bites his tongue and moves to stand against the wall beside a Hizashi who looks to be trying his best to stay calm and collected. There’s a grounding press of knuckles against the side of his leg that have him shifting his feet enough to press the toe of his boot against Hizashi’s in a firm but subtle nudge of acknowledgement.
Shōta’s unsurprised to see a grim faced Yagi settled into another chair between a pursed lipped Recovery Girl and an irritable looking Hound Dog.
“Please,” Nezu speaks up then, waving one paw in Shinsō and Midoriya’s direction, “come sit down so we can get started.”
Midoriya and Shinsō move forward together, steps almost completely in sync, as they settle down into the two empty chairs sitting in front of Nezu’s desk.
“A-Are we in some kind of trouble?” Midoriya is, unsurprisingly enough, the one who breaks the silence first, hands fidgeting with the material of his pants before he plants them on the arms of his chair instead.
“This is a rather delicate situation,” Nezu side steps the boy’s question easily, teacup clicking against the saucer as he sets it down. “So, perhaps, it would be more beneficial to the proceedings to simply dive right in.”
Shōta bites back the urge to sneer. The anger that had clawed at him earlier this morning has spent the day festering in his gut, becoming something molten hot and churning in the process.
He stays quiet for the same reason he’d chosen to listen to Nezu and not to confront Midoriya or Shinsō about the rumors on his own.
It’s the only way to see what Nezu’s playing at, the only way to get him to tip at least a portion of his hand right here and now. Because if he missteps too soon then Shōta knows that Nezu will simply recalibrate and get at the boys in a different, less semi-controlled way.
“It seems there’s been a few rather … unsettling accusations put forth from a number of different directions,” Nezu says delicately. “So, first and foremost, Midoriya-kun I have to ask if you are safe? Is there anything you’d like to report? This is a safe place where no harm will come to you so please speak freely.”
“Sir?” Midoriya’s brow furrows and his mouth turns down sharply. “I-I don’t understand?”
“It has come to the attention of the staff and myself,” Nezu replies, something dark and calculating in his gaze that almost makes Shōta want to step in between the chimera and the boys, “that there is a possibility that your relationship with Shinsō-kun is ... non consensual.”
Shinsō flinches so abruptly and sharply that Shōta feels it in his bones as the boy’s expression twists in some sick mix of disgust and despair.
If there’d been any doubt in him as to whether or not Shinsō could have really been taking advantage of Midoriya in such a way it would have been erased in that moment.
But then it’s Midoriya’s reaction that grabs Shōta’s attention.
Because, beside Shinsō, Midoriya instantly goes almost dangerously still in his seat.
“Elaborate.” Midoriya’s voice is solid, steady in a way that Shōta’s never really heard before.
Between one breath and another Shōta finds himself standing straight and alert. It’s almost as if the tone of Midoriya’s voice has reached inside of Shōta’s chest and grabbed at something that instantly forces Shōta up off of the wall. Unease coiling in his chest, Shōta keeps his eyes locked on Midoriya still form, his shoulders tense in instinctive preparation.
“Multiple students have expressed concerns for your safety on the basis that Shinsō-kun may have … coerced you into a romantic relationship,” Nezu says evenly, as if he doesn’t notice the sudden and dramatic uptick in the undercurrent of tension sparking across the room. “Naturally the staff must investigate all such complaints thoroughly for the safety of the students in question.”
“Naturally,” Midoriya echoes, an eerie sort of blankness in his voice.
“Now Shinsō-kun,” Nezu turns his attention in Shinsō’s direction then, “do you have anything to say in your defense?”
Shōta turns his attention towards a grey faced Shinsō who opens his mouth as if he’s going to speak. But before he can say anything there’s suddenly a sharp splintering sound that makes Shōta twitch more than he wants to admit.
Attention swinging back towards his other student, Shōta feels his own eyes go wide at the sight of the arms of the chair Midoriya’s been gripping have practically crumbled to the ground on either side of him. They’ve been utterly shattered by the strength of Midoriya’s hold on them.
“My boy,” Yagi leans forward in his seat as he speaks up, skeletal face creased even deeper than normal.
It’s a smart move in Shōta’s opinion. Whatever relationship those two might have still baffles Shōta on a number of levels but it’s obvious to anyone who has ever been around them that there’s a connection between Midoriya and Yagi. If anyone in the room besides Shinsō can calm the boy down it’s sure to be the former number one.
Only, Shōta quickly realizes, that’s apparently not as true as he’s always assumed it would be.
Standing where he is, Shōta can’t see the look that Midoriya cuts in Yagi’s direction but whatever his expression is, it’s more than enough to shut Yagi up instantly. Yagi leans back in his chair, his face gone slightly chalky, and turns to stare directly ahead instead of saying anything else.
“You seem upset, Midoriya-kun,” Nezu says calmly, unruffled by Midoriya’s outburst.
As a matter of fact Shōta would even say there’s something almost gleeful in his tone. Which is something Shōta intimately dislikes on a number of levels for a number of reasons.
One of which being the fact that a gleeful Nezu is never a good sign for anyone involved.
“Upset?” Midoriya’s head tilts to the side just a bit as he turns back to look at the principal, an almost animal-like gesture Shōta’s only ever seen him perform once or twice before. The last time had been right at the beginning of his now infamous confrontation with Mineta. “That seems like such a mild word for what I’m feeling right now.”
“Please,” Nezu smiles just a bit, an expression that sits unnaturally on his face and, again, absolutely never bodes well, “elaborate.”
“Well, sir,” Midoriya starts, more blatant disrespect condensed down in his voice than Shōta’s ever heard from the kid, “I find it really distasteful that someone would accuse Shinsō of conduct unbecoming of a hero student on this level and that the staff here would humor it at all since everyone in this room knows it’s false.”
“As I said before, all complaints of this nature must be taken seriously,” Nezu counter, tone mild. He’s obviously still toeing the same line he’d fed Shōta and Hizashi both. The same one they’d both known was bullshit the moment it had come out of his mouth.
“Bullshit,” Midoriya practically spits the word like he’s plucked it right out of Shōta’s thoughts, surging to his feet and leaning forward enough to slam his hands down on Nezu’s desk.
The wood dents in around Midoriya’s palms but Midoriya doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his staring contest with Nezu. It’s a show of pure strength that is honestly more than a bit unnerving.
Shenanigans aside, Midoriya’s normally so unassuming that Shōta sometimes forgets the sheer strength the kid is capable of without even bothering to pull on his quirk.
Shōta knows then that this entire thing has somehow managed to get even more out of hand than it already was. And given the subject matter, it was already pretty fucking far out of hand in Shōta’s opinion.
Either way though he knows he needs to step in now, needs to make sure Midoriya doesn’t say or do anything he’ll regret.
Shōta will be damned if he’ll lose either of these two kids to teenage tempers, no matter how righteous, and whatever the hell kind of game Nezu’s trying to play.
“Pro-,” Shōta takes a step forward then, one hand already on his capture scarf as a precaution.
The look Midoriya shoots in his direction is almost enough to have him taking that same step back and away instinctively.
Instead Shōta does something he hasn’t done since he was a student, since he was younger than Midoriya himself is now.
He freezes.
Midoriya’s normal mix of cheerful but determined anxiety is gone from his expression. In its place is something that Shōta can only describe as dangerous. His mouth is twisted into what can only be described as a snarl and his eyes are dark and sharp.
Shōta’s sure that, for a split second at least, he can see the familiar jade lightning of Midoriya’s quirk sparking in the depth of his eyes.
It’s a look he’d never thought he’d be on the receiving end of from one of his students, especially not Midoriya of all people no matter how much the kid has occasionally unsettled him in the past.
It’s a look that makes Shōta feel almost … hunted.
But then it’s gone, Midoriya turning his attention back towards Nezu as if he hadn’t damn near stopped Shōta’s heart.
“Hitoshi has never and would never attempt to force me into anything against my will outside of consensual and authorized quirk training.” Midoriya practically bites the words out, diction sharp enough to make even mini-Tensei proud. “Because that’s what this is about right? His quirk?”
“Again,” Nezu smooths one paw over the top of the other, a pleased sort of stimming motion that Shōta recognizes well, and keeps his eyes firmly on Midoriya’s face, “we are obligated to investigate all accusations of such a nature. Especially where hero students are concerned. For a variety of reasons.”
“Then why did it take so long for Mineta to get expelled?” Midoriya shoots back viciously. The way he practically flings the question at Nezu makes Shōta bite back a snarl of remembered frustration.
“Why,” Midoriya plows on, not bothering to pause, “was he allowed to terrorize our female classmates for so long despite multiple complaints against him but Ikeda and his friends, because we all know that’s where this came from, launch a campaign against Hitoshi and you all immediately jump to this.” Midoriya lifts a hand to wave it around the office before he slams it back down onto the desk, denting the wood yet again. “Don’t bother to answer that, I already know.”
Even with his unease from moments before still swirling inside of him Shōta can’t help but agree with Midoriya.
Mineta and his continued enrollment in the Hero Course had been an issue for Shōta since the day Nezu had rejected his first expulsion form for the lecherous brat.
Nezu had, just as Midoriya had obviously figured out somehow, had plans that involved Mineta that caused him to utilize his rarely touched veto power as to who remained in Shōta’s class.
The argument they’d had afterwards had been vicious by their standards but Nezu had stood firm on the issue for months even as the complaints piled up.
Shōta had broken more than one mug from Hizashi’s shatter cabinet out of sheer frustration. He has never and will never appreciate Nezu’s politics and schemes impacting his class so blatantly.
“Midoriya,” Nezu starts to speak up then but this time Midoriya doesn’t let him finish.
“I already knew how this school handles outright violence between classmates,” Midoriya keeps going more than a bit viciously. “But I had hoped it wouldn’t support blatant quirk discrimination beyond the obvious bias of the entrance exam. I guess that was my mistake.”
Beside him Hizashi breathes out a low hiss of air that Shōta feels reverberate in his soul.
Ice traces its way down Shōta’s spine yet again.
The more physical aspect of heroics training has never been something Midoriya has ever complained about. Shōta knows that for a fact. If anything it’s been the opposite problem with Midoriya who always seems so eager to overwork himself.
So the fact that he's brought 'violence between classmates' up at all is a red flag of epic proportions.
And the accusations of blatant quirk discrimination hit just as hard.
Because Shōta knows exactly how this looks from the outside. Knows intimately how this must look to Shinsō and Midoriya both. And he hates it. Hates that Nezu has put them all in this position, placed them firmly on one side of the equation and his students on the other by the way he’s chosen to handle this entire thing.
Shōta even hates himself just a bit for having gone along with it as much as he has so far.
Because, biased entrance exam notwithstanding, Shōta’s has always tried to stamp out any quirk related prejudice he comes across.
He and Hizashi both had suffered enough of that growing up. Have seen the results more times than they can count while out on patrol. Neither of them are willing to just deal with or blatantly ignore it in their classrooms or from their students now.
But it seems that, somewhere along the way, Shōta has missed more than one step where at least these two are concerned.
“Or maybe,” Midoriya continues lowly, “my mistake was applying here at all. Maybe UA isn’t the best choice of hero schools if they’re going to entertain accusations that are blatantly false and made by a group of students led by someone who has been verbally and physically assaulting Hitoshi for weeks now.”
The chill that almost seems to sweep through the room is no match for the rage that roars even higher inside of Shōta.
The thought of Ikeda hurting Shinsō like Midoriya is saying, of any of the upperclassmen laying hands on one of his kids like that outside of training is enough to have Shōta clenching his fist around his scarf so hard his knuckles pop.
“Beyond the fact that he would never do something so villainous, Hitoshi’s quirk is a call-and-response based emitter that I’ve already proven I can break out of independent of outside assistance,” Midoriya keeps going. “Ikeda Kino is just jealous that Hitoshi has done what he never could and never will do himself, earn his spot in A-Class. Hitoshi’s going to be a fantastic hero and I refuse to be used as an excuse to damage his reputation and record.”
Midoriya straightens up then, hands pulling themselves out of Nezu’s desk as he turns just enough to bend down and grab his bag up off of the floor. He rifles through it for a few seconds before he pulls out a black covered notebook. He places it almost delicately onto Nezu’s ruined desk.
“This has everything I’ve managed to gather on Ikeda Kino and his group of friends,” Midoriya tells Nezu, holding the principal’s gaze with a steadiness that far too few are capable of. “It also has a complete log of every insult and instance of assault Hitoshi’s been subjected to in the past few months. You can cross check with Recovery Girl’s records for any injuries and I’m sure you have other sources you can consult too for these kinds of occasions.”
Shōta can’t help the thrill of surprise he feels at what Midoriya’s so easily handed over. One of his mysterious notebooks, something he normally guards so completely and fiercely that not even Bakugō gets near them anymore.
“Hitoshi deserves an apology for this,” Midoriya practically declares then, like he isn’t attempting to wring something out of Nezu that Shōta’s not even sure the principal is legitimately capable of sincerely giving. “And if UA really is the best of the best then Ikeda deserves to be punished. His record deserves a black mark for false accusations and quirk discrimination as well as multiple instances of assaulting a fellow student. And if those things don’t happen then I’ll do whatever I have to in order to make sure they happen anyways.”
Shōta agrees with him of course. Ikeda and his other little cohorts are going to be punished. As far as Shōta’s concerned their time left in UA is numbering in hours now and that’s something Nezu will either accept or Shōta will take drastic measures of his own.
“Is that a threat, Midoriya-kun?” Nezu speaks up then, paws smoothing almost greedily across the cover of the notebook Midoriya had passed him.
“No,” Midoriya immediately denies, that solid sort of steadiness from before etched in every line of him. “It’s a statement of fact. If Hitoshi gets punished for this, if his record is damaged and Ikeda is allowed to get away without any consequences then I will be withdrawing from UA and attending a different heroics course elsewhere. I will also do my best to take as many of my classmates with me as I can when I go. And then I will scream every single mistake and misstep I’ve seen UA make from the rooftops. And I won’t stop even after I climb the ranks. I’ll keep going until people have no choice but to take me seriously.”
Shōta blinks once, twice, a third time.
Because Midoriya is absolutely serious.
And Shōta, more than the rest of the staff except Nezu perhaps, understands just how big of a threat that statement of fact actually is.
There’s at least a half a dozen students in his homeroom alone that Shōta’s sure would follow Midoriya without hesitation. Even more than that who would then likely be easy to sway to his side and a few who would stand with Shinsō even without Midoriya’s influence.
And that’s not taking into account students in the other classes who Shōta’s sure would also get caught up in Midoriya's wake. Especially once his reasoning and accusations against UA and the staff was announced.
Midoriya, for all that he never seems to truly realize it, has a strange sort of charisma to him. Especially with Shinsō at his side now, grounding him in a way that he hadn’t had before.
If, Shōta realizes, Midoriya truly puts his mind to it as he’s saying he will, they could be looking at a willing mass exodus of hero students the likes of which UA has never seen in its history.
That alone would be enough to give the school’s credibility a serious hit.
And that’s not even taking into account the staff who might also see fit to resign as well.
Shōta has no illusions over the fact that, should Midoriya leave, Yagi won’t be far behind.
Which, of course, means that Nezu knows all of this as well.
“I see,” Nezu says quietly.
And then he grins, an almost unnaturally wide and tooth filled expression, that makes Shōta’s eyes narrow suspiciously when he immediately turns it in Shinsō’s direction.
“I do apologize for this unpleasant matter making it so far Shinsō-kun,” Nezu announces calmly, as if the past ten minutes have gone differently than how Shōta knows they did. “We will of course take all of this into consideration and conduct a proper investigation. But given the vehemence of Midoriya-kun’s defense of you I think it’s safe to say your record will remain clean here. Please do keep up the hard work and leave the rest of this mess to me.”
Midoriya, in another stunning show of uncharacteristic rudeness, steps back and reaches down to grab Shinsō’s hand. He pulls him up out of his seat, Shinsō fumbling to grab his bag as he stands, and then sketches a small barely there bow in Nezu’s direction.
“We’re going back to the dorms now.” Midoriya announces more than anything as he ushers Shinsō past where Shōta’s standing without even looking in his direction.
The door swings shut behind them quietly.
For a long, charged moment the office sits in complete silence.
“What,” Shōta takes another step forward away from the wall, and then another and another until he’s hovering just in front of Nezu’s ruined desk, “the fuck was that, Nezu?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about Aizawa-kun,” Nezu blinks up at him, paws pressed flat against the cover of the notebook he can’t seem to stop touching.
“Don’t,” Shōta says sharply, resisting the urge to add a hand print of his own to Nezu’s tattered desktop. “Don’t play games with me Nezu, not right now. Not after you’ve gone a step too far.”
“Have I now?” Nezu tilts his head to the side just a bit, black eyes gleaming.
“Yes,” Shōta hisses. “You were going to back Shinsō into a corner even though we all knew from the onset those accusations were false. Don’t deny it. I could see it. Midoriya could see it.”
“Well I had certainly hoped he would when this entire matter started,” Nezu says easily. “It would have defeated the entire purpose of the exercise if Midoriya-kun hadn’t been able to see just how damaging such accusation would have been to Shinsō-kun. Thankfully he didn’t disappoint.”
Shōta goes abruptly still, mind click, click, clicking away.
“In fact,” Nezu says just a tad quieter, that earlier glee creeping in around the edges of his tone, “I would even go so far as to say Midoriya-kun achieved high marks all the way around.”
“Nezu,” Yagi is the one who speaks up then, something tight and controlled in his voice. “What, exactly, are you implying?”
“Was any of it real?” Shōta cuts in, dread and rage twisting together in his chest.
“Oh Aizawa-kun, don’t worry,” Nezu waves a dismissive paw in his direction. “I wasn’t forced to go so far as to fabricate the entire thing. Ikeda-kun, while relatively charismatic, happens to be quite the jealous bigot. Plus he has, just as Midoriya-kun stated, been physically and verbally harassing Shinsō-kun for weeks now. This was just the next step in a pattern of steady but ultimately petty escalation on his part. I’m sure you’ll enjoy expelling him.”
“And you just let that harassment continue?” Hizashi speaks up for the first time.
“Of course I did,” Nezu nods. “It wasn’t going to last forever and if I had interfered it would have reset the entire board. I would have been forced to implement another game plan to get what I wanted.”
Nezu taps meaningfully at the notebook Midoriya had given him.
“All of that,” Yagi speaks slowly, sounding more than a bit out of his depth in a way Shōta can’t actually fault him for, “to get one of young Midoriya’s notebooks? You could have simply asked him, Nezu.”
“No, no,” Nezu chides lightly. “Better for something like this to be given than asked for. A gift of justice instead of a request or a concession Midoriya would have felt trapped into providing. No, this was a much better inroad.”
“So Shinsō was what?” Shōta snaps. “Just collateral damage? An acceptable sacrifice?”
“Of course not,” Nezu denies steadily. “Shinsō-kun was never in any real danger from those accusations. He’s innocent after all and far too important to be wasted in such a manner. I simply needed both of them to believe he was.”
“That’s sick,” Hizashi says quietly, solemnly. “Nezu, that’s just ... why ?”
“Hm,” Nezu hums lightly, sliding the notebook off to the side of his desk with a flick of his paw before he reaches for his ever present teapot and a fresh cup. “The answer to that is rather simple really.”
“Enlighten us,” Shōta practically sneers.
“I wanted to meet the real Midoriya,” Nezu tells them, paws steady as he pours his tea.
“What?” Hizashi asks, giving voice to the confusion that’s practically saturating the room at this point.
“There’s a quote from an old pre-Quirk dictator,” Nezu tells them after a long sip of tea, “it goes, ‘Live with a man forty years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man.’ It’s fanciful ideological speculation made by a long dead psychopath but I admit that I agree with the spirit of the ideal if not the letter. But, alas, I don’t have forty years to spend analyzing Midoriya. And, unlike many pro-heroes even, Midoriya is singularly driven not by his own safety but by the safety of others. To meet him, to truly see him, I needed to hang the most intimate part of his heart over the volcano's edge instead.”
Yagi sucks in a ragged breath and Shōta can just barely hear the rumbling growl of displeasure Inui is making over the pounding of his own heart.
“Why?” Yagi coughs the question out. “Young Midoriya is a good boy, he’s going to be a fantastic hero. Why all of this just to meet him?”
“It’s simple really. It’s because Midoriya-kun is our future number one hero,” Nezu says simply, with such easy conviction that it startles Shōta more than a bit.
“You son of a bitch,” Shōta seethes quietly. “You could have, probably have, damaged the trust two of my students have in me and this school irreparably. And for what? For a notebook and some sick thought experiment?”
There’s yet another moment of almost tangible quiet.
And then Nezu lets out what can only be described as a giggle.
“Oh, Aizawa-kun,” Nezu says lightly, some mix of amusement and what on anyone else could have almost been pity in his tone. “You don’t think either of those boys actually trusts you do you?”
In that moment Shōta’s sure that he stops breathing entirely.
“No,” Nezu continues calmly, “neither Midoriya-kun nor Shinsō-kun trust anyone, expect, perhaps, each other completely. And they certainly don’t trust any of us beyond our roles as pro-heroes. The way they held their silence about this entire situation instead of reaching out is proof enough of that. Even Midoriya-kun’s adoration of Yagi-kun is, in a word, … conditional.”
The noise Yagi makes is somewhere between a ragged, bloody cough and a barely hidden whine. Recovery Girl is quick to reach for him, a severe frown pulling at her aged face but something almost accepting in her eyes.
Nezu reaches up then and ghosts the side of one sharp tipped claw down the scar that cuts through his face.
“You can take my word as law on that fact,” Nezu flashes a sharp toothed grin in Shōta’s direction then. “Like recognizes like after all.”
“Those two are nothing like you,” Shōta can’t help but say. Because they’re not. There’s a coldness, a ruthlessness, in Nezu that Shōta’s never seen in either of his students.
“Are you really so sure?” Nezu cuts back. “Or is that just what you want to be true? Because I believe there’s a number of parallels between us. Midoriya-kun and I most of all but young Shinsō-kun isn’t so easily dismissed either. In fact I’m sure he’ll play a pivotal role in the future going forward. Neither he nor Midoriya-kun are, after all, the type to let go of what they love easily. No, I believe that at least one of our future number one’s sides is rather firmly spoken for.”
Nezu sips his tea, an air of almost smug contemplation practically wafting off of him.
“I’ve allowed Midoriya to grow on his own for long enough I believe,” Nezu says. “Perhaps I should have stepped in earlier when I realized that you didn’t see him for what he is, Aizawa-kun. That was my mistake. But it’s a mistake that ends now. He’ll be reporting to my office for his study hall period from now on and Shinsō-kun will rotate through a selection of staff members who will be tasked with rounding out his skill set. We have so much to accomplish and relatively little time to do it in.”
Nezu pauses, drinks more of his tea, and then sets his cup back on its saucer with a delicate click. He reaches for the notebook Midoriya had given him.
“Now,” Nezu says lightly but tone full of obvious dismissal, “if you would all kindly see yourselves out I’m afraid I have a new project to begin.”
With Hizashi at his back and the others standing off to one side, Shōta stands there in front of Nezu’s desk for a long moment before he turns on his heel and stalks out of the office.
There is, he’s loathe to admit, nothing else he can do at the moment.
He knows without even bothering to press the issue that Nezu won’t bend any further today. And, as much as he wants more information, Shōta doesn’t want to ambush and overwhelm either Midoriya or Shinsō again so soon.
So for now all he can do is what he’d promised himself he’d handle earlier.
He has a student to expel and at least a half dozen more to verbally flay.
And then he has a lot of thinking to do.
~~~
Shōta doesn’t stir from his place on the couch when Hizashi finally makes his way into their apartment a few hours later.
Hizashi toes his boots off, takes a look at the fresh hole in the wall and the already purpling skin of Shōta’s knuckles, and sighs.
“Come here, kitten,” Hizashi says quietly as he settles down on the couch and holds one arm up.
Shōta tips himself to the side without a word, eyes closing as he focuses on the familiar and comforting warmth and scent that envelops him.
They sit there together in silence for the longest time.
“One hell of a day huh?” Hizashi finally murmurs as he combs a hand gently through Shōta’s hair.
Shōta just grunts lowly in agreement.
“Ikeda was still crying the last I saw him but he’ll be off campus before nightfall,” Hizashi tells him. “Not sure where he’ll go since no other high school in the country is going to take him after what you did to his record though. And the rest of his little group will be having detention with Nemuri until the semester ends, may the gods rest their souls.”
“Little bastards,” Shōta huffs against Hizashi’s stomach.
“Yeah,” Hizashi agrees.
Silence falls over them again, but it’s a long familiar and ultimately comfortable one.
“We’ll figure it out,” Hizashi finally sighs, cutting to the core of what’s bothering Shōta in that way he always seems able to. “Together. We’ll do whatever we have to in order to make sure the little listeners know we’re on their side. No matter what other games Nezu might have in mind. They might not trust us now but we’ll work at it until they do.”
Hizashi says it like it’s law, like it’s some kind of undeniable fact. Says it in a voice filled with all of the determination and strength that so many people tend to overlook in him.
It helps that he’s simply giving voice to what Shōta’s spent the last few hours contemplating.
He’d missed a step with Midoriya and Shinsō both somehow, they all had apparently.
But, as always, it’s his own failure that eats at Shōta. It’s the fact that he had missed such a large chunk of the picture that it’s making him think there might be even more things he’s somehow allowed himself to be blind to with this class. Things he should have seen and acted on ages ago.
Shōta feels as if some veil he hadn’t known he was wearing has finally been ripped away. Like he’s seeing clearly for the first time in a long time.
Somehow he’d fallen victim to the observational bias he’s always railed so hard against. He’d made assumptions and leaps and never realized just where he was going wrong in the process.
But that ends here and now. Had, in fact, ended back in Nezu’s office with his student’s distrust being thrown so casually in his face.
This time Shōta’s determined to see things for what they are instead of what he thinks they should be.
This time he’s going to give Midoriya and Shinsō and every other kid in his class who might need them undeniably solid reasons to actually trust him.
Shōta’s not going to let any of them down again.
Plus Ultra.