Chapter 13: Changing The Formality
Midoriya stayed quiet as Aizawa argued with Nezu, who just seemed to be enjoying the situation. He hadn't moved from his spot on the hospital bed. Recovery Girl wasn't making eye contact with him anymore and had simply moved to her desk. Gami floated over to sit next to him, but after deeming his form too unstable to make contact with the bed, he just stood by the boy. His successor hadn't moved a muscle since the principal's declaration, and that concerned the ghost.
"Are you… doing alright?"
He didn't respond. The teachers just kept fighting.
"Is it because of Eraserhead's reaction?"
Again, no response.
"Is it the change then? Is it because you are being forced somewhere new?"
No answer.
"Was it just the day? Has today been too much?"
Nothing.
The teen wasn't sure what was wrong with him, honestly. It just felt like the air had been pulled from his lungs. Like he was gasping on nothingness. He felt empty, and alone, despite the yelling in the room and the words coming from his mentor.
He wasn't sure if going home was what he wanted, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if going with Aizawa was what he wanted either. I mean, it was obvious that the man wasn't jumping for joy either. He didn't want to cause any more problems for anyone, but was that worth going back home?
He really didn't know.
"Midoriya!"
The boy jumped a bit, startled at the call, but otherwise made no effort to respond. Once he realized it was the principal calling him, he made a small hum of confirmation, but nothing more.
Nezu figured he finally had the student's attention, "Sorry about all of that. Aizawa-san is going to stay with me for a bit to finish the finalities. But don't worry, he's having Yamada-san pick you up!"
Midoriya's breath hitched at the name, the unfamiliarity sparking something like primal fear. His hand was halfway to his chest before he stopped it, and moved it back to his side. Gami must have understood the same thing, as he took a threatening step towards the rodent.
"A-are you sure about this, sir?" he whispered, "I really don't want to be any trouble…"
The principal elbowed the tired man in the leg, but it wasn't caught by either of the deathly duo. Aizawa definitely did, on the other hand, and stifled a curse.
"Trust me, Midoriya," he assured, "you're no trouble at all!"
The teen wasn't convinced, but he flashed a small smile anyway. He gripped his backpack straps tightly, digging his gloved fingers into the leather. He watched Nezu make a slight movement with his paw and took it as a gesture to stand up from the bed. He wobbled on his feet, but grabbed at the bed for balance. He was still suffering from light headedness due to Recovery Girl's quirk, but forced himself to stand nonetheless.
Then, there was a knock on the door.
"Oh! That must be Yamada-san now!" Nezu exclaimed, clapping his paws together, "Come in!"
Midoriya didn't really know who this "Yamada" was, but he picked up some important tidbits about the person.
One, Aizawa knew Yamada on some sort of personal level, and probably trusted him. Even if the hero was making it blatantly obvious that he wasn't looking forward to fostering him, he knew the man's rational mind wouldn't allow him to do things half-assed. So if the man was truly having someone else pick him up, he wouldn't have just chosen someone randomly.
Two, Yamada must work at U.A. to have arrived at the nurse's office so quickly. It was likely the man was a hero, and subsequently, a teacher. Most of his current teachers hadn't introduced themselves yet, so he was stuck calling them by their hero names. Yamada could be one of his teachers then. Or maybe he was a teacher he didn't have, like a Gen Ed or a Support Course teacher. Of course, there was always the possibility that this mysterious man wasn't a teacher at all.
But other than that, he really knew nothing about the man.
So imagine the boy's surprise when he watched Present Mic, his English teacher, walk into the room.
"Hey Sho! You needed something?" the loud man asked cheerily.
The teacher stopped right at the doorway, realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Aizawa stared at him blankly, while Nezu stood by his feet and waved. Recovery Girl had moved away to her desk a while back, and just seemed to be ignoring the situation. Midoriya reacted, though it was only his gaze, and Gami turned his whole form to now face the door.
"I'm sure you both already know each other," the principal started, "but anyway, Yamada-san, this is Midoriya Izuku from the hero course. Midoriya, this is Yamada, but you probably know him better as Present Mic."
The newly introduced teacher chuckled awkwardly, "Well, hello little listener! Just like the principal said, I'm Yamada Hizashi."
The teen gulped quietly, not knowing what to say.
"I apologize for having Aizawa-san call you here on such short notice," Nezu continued, "But I'm afraid it's pretty important."
Yamada grew serious, "It's no problem at all. What is it?"
The rodent gestured for the student to come closer, so he did, walking over to stand beside Nezu and in front of his English teacher. His mind was racing, and yet, his throat felt like a desert. Was he going to be staying with Aizawa still, or was Present Mic picking him up so he could stay with him? What would happen to his mother, or his notebooks, or his plants? How long would this last? When would he have to find a new family?
"Well," Nezu smiled a wide and unnerving smile, one that shook the boy to his core, "You and Aizawa-san will be fostering Midoriya for some time, so I need you to take him back to your apartment to get settled in."
The teen deadpanned. The principal sure had a way of being straightforward.
When Yamada told his husband that he wanted a child, this wasn't quite what he was expecting.
Currently, the two had left the school, and were walking down an empty street. The hero had changed out of his clothes to not draw attention, and combed his hair down from his signature look. His hands were stuffed in his leather jacket pockets and his jeans ruffled around in the breeze. And yet, as comfortable as he was, not a word had been uttered since they left the nurse's office.
Midoriya walked next to him, eyes downcast and hands tightly wrapped around his backpack straps. He debated burrowing his fingers into the bottom of his uniform top, but decided against it to not make any more unnecessary wrinkles. His analytic mind was beaming at the thought of strolling beside a pro hero, but somber shadows quickly restrained his excitement, and brought back the dread. He was pretty sure he was spiraling again, as the unwelcome feeling of drowning in agony returned, but there wasn't much he could do in the moment. He was positive the pro didn't know about his situation, and that was not a conversation he wanted to have in the moment.
Gami simply floated behind the two silently, observing every step the hero took. His successor had first introduced him to this man back at the entrance exam briefing, and back then, he was sure the hero was only a loud and obnoxious individual. But now, he wasn't so sure.
The silence must have gotten to the man, as he was used to naturally talking, so he finally spoke, "So Midoriya, you wanna tell me more about yourself? I've only known you since these first two days of school."
Yamada knew he was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. He had a good idea of what was going on. U.A. didn't typically pull kids from their homes often, but it had happened enough that he understood the protocol. He knew that this student's home life must be bad enough for Nezu to act so quickly. But there was no way he was going to open a conversation asking this kid about home, especially in an area so public as this.
And still, when the boy looked up at him to respond, his heartstrings were tugged violently. He looked so alone and unsure of himself. When he saw the kid in his class, he just chalked it up to being nervous or introverted. But now that he had a better idea of where his skittish behavior had come from, it tore apart his heart. The hero couldn't understand what would compel anyone to hurt a child like this, especially one as shy and sweet as Midoriya.
The teen stuttered, trying to gather up the confidence to speak, "I like a-analysis… and gardening."
The man leeched onto that information, hoping to keep the boy talking, "Oh, analysis? Do you analyze anything in particular?"
This wasn't Yamada's first time assisting U.A. in a sensitive situation. He knew how to tread around topics that were sensitive and to encourage a student to talk about something they enjoyed. He'll like to think he was decent enough in handling children. Though, this was the first time he'd ever be fostering one.
He watched the boy light up, "I-I do quirk analysis. Most of my notes are on pro heroes, s-since they're so easy to research. I w-wanted to write some notes on my classmates, but I'm afraid they'll think it's weird…"
The teacher was impressed, "Have you analyzed any heroes here at U.A.? And why would they think it's weird?"
Midoriya felt the shadows loosen their hold and retreat, and his head clocked into overdrive, "I-I have! I've done pretty much all the heroes that work at U.A.! You, Midnight, Cementoss, even Aizawa-sensei." Then he grew nervous, and the brightness in his eyes dimmed. He fiddled with his gloves anxiously and took a second to breathe before continuing. "Most p-people find it creepy that I observe t-them so closely. I think it f-freaks people out that I'm able t-to dissect their quirks and their weaknesses so q-quickly."
Yamada hummed, "Well, what have you done on me? If you don't mind me asking…"
"Um, well your quirk is Voice, and it allows you to amplify the volume of your voice to do damage, but that's pretty obvious on its own," the teen paused to try and recall his notes to the fullest extent, "By itself, it a pretty basic quirk, but that allows a lot of room for creativity."
He looked up to the man, almost waiting for confirmation to continue. The pro glanced down at him, tilting his glasses to his nose. He flashed a small smile and gave a slight nod, which provided just enough confidence for Midoriya to keep talking.
"You already have your directional speaker system for support, but that's barely the tip of the iceber-"
"Wait a minute," he interrupted, "My directional speaker what?"
The student looked lost, "You know… the thing around your neck?" He waved a finger to his own neck to emphasize.
The hero laughed, "Oh! So that's what that is called!"
The deathly duo shared a look of disbelief. Gami simply shrugged back, so the boy returned his gaze to the sidewalk in front of him.
"Well, considering your quirk, there are a lot of ways to give yourself advantages in combat. Creating echos would be a great way to increase the volume and range of your quirk, and it would confuse villains as well," he stopped, raising a finger to his chin in thought, "Though, that would be difficult to achieve on your own. Pairing with Cementoss would be ideal, but that's not exactly how it works during an emergency."
"Echos…" Yamada repeated, "I've never thought of that."
Midoriya must have not heard him, because he just kept rambling, "While you do have support gear already, there's a lot of room to expand. Have you ever thought of smaller, long range speakers? They can be connected to you by a wire so you can throw them out like a grenade. Then, all you have to do is yell into the existing system around your neck and the sound will be directed out to the mini speakers."
The teen realized he had been talking for a while and looked up to his teacher to check in on him. The lost look on his face was all he needed to see to understand that he had been rambling again.
"Basically sound grenades," he re-explained, "powered by your quirk."
"Oh!" he realized, "That actually sounds pretty handy!"
He looked down bashfully at the praise, the fact that he had just been giving a pro hero support tips finally clicking in his head. Now that he was done talking, his consciousness started to creep back and made him feel unsure of himself once again. His mentor did his best to reassure him, but even the ghost's pats and hair ruffles weren't enough.
"Anyone who would think that's weird is insane," Yamada spoke up, interrupting his spiraling thoughts, "Your analysis is really helpful!"
Midoriya did a double take, "R-really?"
"YEAH!!" the man exclaimed, "Your outside analysis is super beneficial to anyone looking to expand on their quirk! Just makes me wanna say yeah!!"
The teen was about to respond when the loud man in front of him stopped suddenly, making him skid to a stop as well. Gami wasn't paying attention to either, and stumbled into his successor. The impact made him shift a few paces, but he corrected himself before his teacher could ask questions.
They had finally arrived at a small house, only a few blocks away from the school. It was an unassuming grey color, with few windows and a dark roof. Despite the boring colors, it felt actually quite welcoming, almost as if it was inviting him inside.
There was a soft click, and then the front door swung open.The pro held it open with one extended arm, beckoning the student to walk inside. There was a slight moment of hesitation, but the home's ambient warmth soom engulfed him and he entered. He wiped his red sneakers off on the mat, but didn't know whether to take them off or not, so he waited until Yamada walked in as well and shut the door. The hero took off his shoes and left them on the side of the mat, so Midoriya did the same.
His English teacher rushed off to the main hallway, so he took off after him. He wasn't sure where the man was headed. Maybe he should have stayed by the door until he got a direct command…
"This was our guest room," he suddenly explained, stopping at a door, "But Kayama doesn't come over that often, so we don't really need it."
He turned to look at the boy behind him, only to meet a confused expression.
"Ah sorry," he sighed, "I keep forgetting you don't know us by our names. Kayama is Midnight."
Midoriya nodded. Gami grew closer to him.
"Seems like a lot of the teachers at U.A. have close relations…"
That was true. Present Mic seemed to be close to Aizawa in some way, and he also knew Midnight personally enough that she would come over. Who knows how long they had been friends. Maybe when they started their hero careers, maybe even earlier.
"I'm sure Sho won't mind this becoming your room."
That short circuited his brain in an instant. There was a lot to unpack in that one singular statement.
He was getting his own room. Now, it wasn't like he hadn't had a bedroom before. He obviously had his own room living with his mother. But the room never really felt like it was his. It just felt like a mouse hole in the wall, and like he was a stowaway rat. Sure, it was his room, but it never really belonged to him.
Second, and probably the most shocking, was what his teacher had implied when designating the guest room as his own. He figured that "Sho" was the man's nickname for Aizawa, based on the fact that he had addressed his homeroom teacher like that when entering the nurse's office.
But bringing up the pro hero like that could only mean that this was Aizawa's home.
This would have to be Eraserhead's house or else it wouldn't matter what the tired teacher thought. And that brought up a whole new set of questions. Did that mean that Present Mic was living with him? Were they roommates? In a relationship? Or was the loud hero not living here? Did he simply just have a spare key? Even if that was the case, that still meant that Aizawa trusted him a large deal, to give someone a key to his home.
"-oriya! Midoriya!"
Yamada's yelling jolted him out of his endless thoughts, and he blinked a few times to try and get his surroundings straight. He looked up in confusion, but that seemed to be enough for the man as he let out a sigh.
"I was just asking if this was alright for you…" he restated.
Alright? That's what the hero was worried about? He had already given him residence in a new home and a new room to himself, and he was wondering if it was alright? If Midoriya truly had a say in things, he'd scream about how it wasn't alright. That someone like him really didn't deserve nice things like this when there were kids like Todoroki. He was doing fine on his own, after all, he'd practically been on his own for 11 years. His situation wasn't anything of worth compared to all the other kids he knew were suffering out there.
And yet, the boy knew he didn't have a say. He never had a say in his life so far, so why should he expect one now? His life had been governed so meticulously by the adults around him, he never expected more. And as nice as his English teacher was to him, in the end, he was the adult. He had the control.
It almost made him break into laughter that the man bothered asking the question in the first place. After all, it was obvious he didn't care about whatever Midoriya said in return. It was like how people always start a greeting by asking how you're doing. The answer really doesn't matter to them, it's just a matter of being polite. And everyone always says they're doing good in return, even if they aren't. Because nobody cares about how you're doing; it's just how the formality goes.
He personally wasn't sure if he would feel comfortable in a completely new room of a completely new house after his whole life had been pulled from under him, but who actually cared?
"O-oh, yeah this is fine."
That's just how the formality goes.
The room was pretty barren, which made sense considering it was a guest bedroom in Eraserhead's house. It was of a fair size, with a large, grey queen sized bed in the corner. There was a nightstand on the bed's free side, a boring, black desk, and nothing more. The only thing that had really excited Midoriya about the room, other than the spacious bed, was the beautiful window that stood right in front of the desk. It wasn't any different from a typical window, but the way it allowed the sunlight to flow into the room made everything feel so much brighter. Gami probably didn't like that though, so he'd have to get some curtains for it sometime.
But the awe from the window only lasted a good half hour, at best. The room wasn't all that entertaining, and it wasn't like he had much to do. There wasn't much homework, since it was only the second day of school, and what there was he had already completed at lunch. He did have his phone and a quirk analysis notebook on him, but he couldn't bring himself to really use either.
So he was simply sitting at the desk, flipping through his notebook for what was probably the millionth time. He wanted to lie on the bed, but he was still on his school clothes and really didn't want to make Aizawa or Yamada upset. He was a bit weary of sitting at the desk, but figured that if they walked in on him like that, it shouldn't bother them too much.
Gami had tried to coax the teen out of the room, but his efforts were fruitless. Nothing he said or did could convince him to leave even the desk he was sitting at. Present Mic said this was his room, and that was his safe spot. He rarely ever was hurt in his room, and so that was where he felt the most comfortable. There was no telling what would happen to him if he left the room and went somewhere else. He had been listening closely, and hadn't heard the front door open, so that meant the hero was still in the house somewhere. What if the man caught him outside the room? He would most surely get upset, but the question was how upset? Upset enough to yell at him? Upset enough to punish him? Upset enough to take out his frustrations on him?
There was no way he was leaving this room. Not unless the house was empty, or someone told him to. And Midoriya didn't care how long it took for one of those things to happen. He would be patient and he would wait.
That was exactly how he survived with his mother for 11 years, after all.
A sudden knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. He fumbled in the desk chair a bit, its wheels squeaking on the hardwood floor. The sound dropped his heart rate a few beats, and he hoped that it was too quiet to be heard.
"Hey Midoriya," a soft voice came from just beyond the door. He instantly recognized it as his English teacher, and wondered why he hadn't just opened the door yet. "I'm going back to U.A. to see how Sho's doing. I won't be gone long."
Why was he telling him this? What would it matter how long he would be gone? Was this just another formality thing? That had to be it. It was the responsible thing to do, to tell him he would be leaving. Of course Yamada didn't care how he felt about being alone.
"Alright…" he replied just as quietly. There was a bit of a difference though. Present Mic's voice sounded more of an unsure quiet, while his was a submissive quiet.
Besides, he didn't have a problem with being left alone. In fact, he was waiting for this exact opportunity since he walked into the room. The boy wasn't sure how long he had been in the room, but based on the dim light coming in from the window, it had to have been a couple hours at least. And the slight rumbling from his stomach definitely tipped him off that it was getting late.
The pro must have heard him, because he could hear the footsteps move away from his door and towards the front. The steps were distinct, echoing softly on the hardwood flooring. It sounded as if the hero wasn't wearing any shoes still.
The teen felt the urge to walk up to his closed door, so he did. Ever so quietly, he crept towards it and pressed his ear up against the wood. Gami followed him silently and stood at the wall next to the door. There, the two listened.
They listened, as the man approached the front door, and the footsteps stopped. Midoriya took a shaky swallow. The feeling of deja vu washed over him so heavily, he felt as if he'd drown in it.
They listened, as both of them could make out the sound of shoes being slipped on and sliding against the doormat. The boy was positive the hero was putting on boots, specifically ones with hard soles, by the way they clicked against the floor. Maybe combat boots, maybe cowboy boots, he wasn't too sure on the type.
They listened, as the jingle of house keys being taken off their hook pierced through the quiet air. That sound made him feel like throwing up. This felt so familiar, too familiar. His hands grew so cold and clammy, he wanted to tear his gloves off. Something was wrong…
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
He listened as the front door opened. The footsteps started up again. His heart pounded. He didn't realize he had left the safety of his room. Throwing open the door, he lunged for where he heard the footsteps roam moments before.
"Dad no!!" he cried desperately, tears clawing at the corner of his eyes, "Don't go!!"
But the front door had already closed, Yamada long gone and unaware of the cries from the house behind him.
Midoriya collapsed in the hallway, tears and sobs racking his entire body. His gloved fingers curled into his chest protectively, wringing his U.A. uniform into wrinkles. His breathing turned hysterical and unrestrained, as Gami rushed to calm him.
"Please Dad," he called defeatedly, "please don't go."
The ghost wasn't sure what his successor was talking about, "Your father isn't here, Izu…"
"I'm sorry." He didn't seem to hear his mentor. "I'll be good. Please don't leave."
"That was Present Mic who left, not your father," the mysterious man tried to explain, but the boy just kept bawling. He kneeled down carefully and wrapped his arms around him gently. The teen was mumbling incoherent apologies, likely to his father as he had been doing in the seconds before. Gami wasn't too sure what his friend was going through, but he had his assumptions.
The series of events right before his breakdown were eerily similar to ones from the boy's early childhood, specifically from right before his father's departure. It was plausible that the hero's leaving triggered a dormant memory of his father. But even then, he didn't really know how to help.
"Izu, I just need you to breathe," he pleaded, "He is not here."
The sobs started to quiet down, so the spirit figured he was headed in the right direction. He began running his boney hands through his successor's hair, and instantly heard his breathing slow. That was a trick the specter had learned in his years of companionship with Midoriya. For some reason, the gentle affection helped him calm down, or feel more comfortable.
"D-dad…?"
"No. He is not here," Gami repeated, "It is just me. Just Gami."
That finally cleared the teen's head. "Gami…?"
"Yes…"
And with that, he jumped onto the ghost with a large embrace, the sobs returning. The two hugged tightly, almost as if they hadn't seen each other in years.
"I'm sorry," he wailed, "I just thought… I saw… he was…"
But the spirit merely shushed him and held him closer, "It is alright."
In all honesty, he really had no idea how to handle a situation like this. Should he give it to the boy blunt and just say that his father was never coming back? Or should he console him and give him false hope, even just to boost his mood for the day. Both options felt dirty, so the ghost just tried to assure him that all was good. But even that didn't feel right. He wished he could do so much more for the broken boy in front of him.
Then, Midoriya's stomach growled, ruining the sincerity of the moment. That made the teen burst into giggles and he wiped the tears away. Gami too gave a small chuckle, but it was relatively silent compared to his successor.
He lifted his crumpled form off the floor and dragged his feet into the kitchen. The house sported an open concept floor, with the living room flowing into the kitchen quite nicely. The kitchen itself was fairly large and even had an island counter. He reached for the refrigerator handle to open it, but stopped abruptly.
What was he doing? This wasn't his house, and he couldn't just take food that wasn't his. At least when he was living with his mother, he could buy his own food. That's what he used to cook his meals and feed himself. He made sure that there were no real grounds for his mother to get upset at him concerning food.
But here, he didn't own any of the food. There was no way he could eat anything that wasn't his and get away with it. He recalled the first few times he had taken some of his mother's food without realizing the consequences, and the memories made him shudder. There was absolutely no way he would take something and risk rage like his mother's.
But his stomach grumbled again, louder and more violent this time. He had been lucky enough to have eaten a full lunch at school today, considering he wasn't planning to, but it had been hours since that. Not to mention Recovery Girl had sucked his stamina dry. He was practically running on fumes. Combined with his overactive imagination on what could be inside the fridge, and he was desperately battling the urge to yank open the handle.
"What is it, Izu?" his mentor asked with concern.
Right, he had been staring at the closed fridge for what was probably too long to be considered normal.
"I can't take anything," he replied almost sadly, but calm enough to signify that this was normal to him.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Well, it's Aizawa-sensei's food, I think," he still wasn't sure exactly who was living in this house, "I can't just take it…"
"I'm sure he will understand," the ghost tried to assure him.
But Midoriya just shook his head, "I'm not… I'm not taking anything."
Gami didn't really understand why the boy was resistant to taking some food, but he wasn't about to let him starve. Not on his watch at least.
"Why don't you cook a meal for everyone?" he pondered.
"Isn't that just the same thing?" the teen questioned skeptically.
The spirit wasn't too proud about tricking his successor, but he really needed the boy to eat something, even if it was under the guise of a selfless act. "No. You are cooking for them as well, not only yourself. They will be so pleased by the kind gesture that they may offer you a portion as well."
He knew that the heroes wouldn't let the teen starve, even if they didn't like him. But he also knew that in his friend's trauma ridden mind probably wouldn't see it like that. This was for his sake.
"Yeah… that makes sense," he answered.
That was thankfully enough to convince the teen as he opened up the refrigerator, but upon his flabbergasted expression, the ghost floated over to see what had caught his attention.
The fridge was almost as barren as the guest room Midoriya had been given. There was barely any food on the shelves, and any that there was definitely didn't seem fresh. He almost seemed dejected at opening up the fridge. His imagination had hyped him up so much, and the disappointment hit hard.
"Well, this is a let down…"
That couldn't be more true.
He shuffled through, pushing past containers of leftover food, searching for something decent enough to cook with. And even if he found something, what would he even make? He didn't really know what Aizawa liked. If he was going to use his food, the dish had to be perfect. He rummaged through some more, and pulled out a container of white rice. Upon further examination, he guessed it was about two days old, which wasn't too bad.
"I think there are some vegetables in the back," Gami commented.
Midoriya hummed, but searched where his mentor had told him. Sure enough, there was a small container of steamed vegetables, so he took that out as well. It wasn't much, but it should be enough for two portions, maybe even three. And still, rice and vegetables wasn't really enough to be considered a meal. He needed to find some sort of protein.
Laying the rice and vegetables on the counter, he squattered back down to continue raiding the fridge. He scoured container after container, opening up ones he thought had what he was looking for. But either it wasn't exactly what he was looking for, or it smelled too funky for him to feel comfortable using. He could feel himself grow more frustrated by the minute, and his stomach more hungry.
"Is that not chicken back there?"
The teen's head swiveled towards the spirit's outstretched finger. Scrambling through the fridge, he pulled out a container and lifted open the lift. When the smell of chicken met his nose, he smiled in relief. This was definitely fresh enough to use, and he had a pretty good idea of what he was going to make.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Midoriya smirked.
"Most definitely."
The kitchen was full of delicious aromas as the sizzle from the open skillet invaded the air. Midoriya flipped the vegetables sauteing in the pan, before pulling them back on the stove top. He moved over to the counters, where he laid out two large plates and then a smaller one for himself. He didn't want to set out a plate for himself at first, thinking the heroes might get angry at him for serving himself with their food. But Gami managed to convince him to at least take out the plate. He didn't have to serve himself after all.
The smell of scrambled eggs hit his nose hard, so he rushed over to the stove to check on them. He figured they were done since their edges were a crisp golden brown, so he slid them off the pan and onto a small plate. The ghost watched in amazement as his successor sliced up the eggs into microscopic pieces with a large chef knife. He loved watching the boy cook, and times like made him wish he could eat. He couldn't smell the countless scents that were currently whirling around the kitchen either, but he was certain they were mouthwatering.
The teen then pushed the small pieces of scrambled eggs into the pan sauteing the vegetables. Lowering the temperature so the bok choy and the broccoli florets wouldn't wilt, he set the pan down to check on the rice. He'd left that in a small pot with some water to boil, and the moisture rejuvenated the rice back to its sticky, fresher self. He opened the drawer where he discovered the utensils were and reached for a spoon. Pushing past his nervous hesitation, he took one tiny taste of the rice, and his stomach's subsequent growl confirmed it was ready.
He snagged the two oven mitts from their resting spot on top of a hanging cabinet and slipped them over his own gloves. Carefully, he gripped the pot's handles and carried it over to the dining room table, which he set before he started cooking. Still with the mitts on, he scurried back and took the vegetables off the stove top as well, placing them next to the rice. Having just a bit of time left, he quickly placed each plate down in front of a chair, leaving his own on the counter.
"That looks amazing, Izu… but aren't you missing the-"
Midoriya held up one oven mitt, silencing his companion, and just as he did, the oven beeped. He turned off the oven completely, before opening it up and sticking both hands inside. He slowly pulled out beautifully breaded strips of chicken and brought that to the table as well. Once that was done, he took off the mitts and stepped back to admire his work.
"You really outdid yourself this time, especially considering the ingredients you had to work with," the spirit praised.
"I just hope they like katsudon…" he murmured back, ignoring the praise entirely, "I mean, I don't even know who's coming back! Is it going to be Aizawa-sensei, or Mic-sensei, or both of them?!"
"I am sure that whoever comes back will enjoy this," the transparent man reassured, "I know I sure would."
"Well, I'm not sure when anyone will be back," he sighed, "Let me at least put the covers back on so the food doesn't get cold."
And with that, they boy leaned over the table and placed glass lids on all the pots and pans, sealing the warmth with the food. His stomach churned at the sight and he clutched it tightly, hoping to quiet himself down.
Gami looked over with concern, "Why not serve yourself now? I am sure they will not mind."
But Midoriya was unfazed, "No. I-I'll wait."
The ghost tried to press more, but his successor walked away to put cups on the table. He sighed and stared at the food the boy had made. The man waved a hand towards one of the serving utensils, but it only went through. His shoulders slumped dejectedly. He could only hope those heroes got back soon so his friend could eat.
The teen wished he had his kettle so he could make tea, but alas, he did not. So instead, he settled for water. Reaching for the pitcher, he set that down on the table as well. With that, he figured the table was complete. Now, it was best for him to retreat back into the guest room until whoever arrived. He was afraid that if the heroes saw him and realized he had used their food to cook, they would be too angry to care that the meal was for them. But if he was out of sight by the time they came back, then the heroes would have no choice but to check out what he made. It wasn't a fool proof plan, but it was his best shot at maintaining peace as well as maybe getting some dinner.
He figured that he had a few moments to spare, so he stood by the table and just took in the savory aromas and the serene calmness. He felt his heartstrings sigh. What he wouldn't give for a warm meal right now, and a family to share it with. Only around half a minute had passed, and while he knew he should get going, the longing in his heart figured 30 seconds more wouldn't hurt.
The front door opened abruptly.
Well, thanks to the stupid longing in his heart, he was now royally screwed.
"Sho, I just don't understand why you're so against this," Yamada was looking behind him as he unlocked the door, and didn't see Midoriya or the cooked meal right away, "I think you may be overreacting a bit…"
"Look Zashi, I already explained this to you on the way here," Aizawa remarked and walked inside, "I just-"
That's when the teacher's eyes met Midoriya's petrified ones.
He stopped talking immediately and just stared at the boy in front of him. Yamada noticed the silence and looked into the house as well, looking for what exactly shut the man up. His eyes landed on the student too, and then moved over to the fully set table.
The timid boy felt all the color drain from his face when that front door swung open. What should he do? Should he just make a run for the room? Should he just try and wait it out? Should he say something, or wait for one of his teachers to say something first. He was stuck in his own head again, slowly drowning himself in his panic.
And yet, even through all of that, his brain just narrowed in on the fact that this all felt so familiar. He was being hit by some major deja vu again.
"Midoriya," Present Mic started softly, "What… did you do?"
But the teen completely took that the wrong way. He had messed up. This was exactly why he needed to be tucked away in the room before anyone came home. "I...I-"
Aizawa took one big sniff of the air, "You cooked. What food did you even use?"
That made the boy's blood pressure spike even higher than what it was before. This was a terrible idea. He shouldn't have dared to touch food that wasn't his. Hadn't he learned his lesson with his mother?
"I just…" he stuttered, fear prickling at his fingertips, "I-"
But the rational man took an intimidating step forward, tossing what looked to be a folder onto the couch. Midoriya took a small step backwards in fear, afraid of the closing gap between the two of them.
Aizawa eyed the food on the table in confusion, speaking his thoughts aloud, "All I had in that fridge was leftovers. How did you even make that?"
The teacher moved another step closer, so the teen took two back. His sock caught a nail sticking up slightly from the hardwood and sent him tumbling down. He landed roughly on his rear, but that did nothing to shake him out of the paralyzing fear that racked his whole body.
"I-I'm sorry," his voice wavered wetly, the tears to his eyes stopping by his throat first, "I just… I-"
Aizawa softened a little, but the boy was too terrified to notice. "Problem Child, just get off the floor…"
"What are you doing on the floor there, Izuku dear?"
"No, no, no," he stammered, "Please…"
"Have I ever told you how much you look like your father?"
He raised his hands to his ears, hoping to block the harrowing cries out, "I'm s-sorry…"
The normally tired man looked back to Yamada in distress, unsure of how to handle the situation in front of him. Even the blond, with the vast amount of experience dealing with children in his career of being a U.A. teacher, never dealt with one as emotionally distressed as the one in front of him.
"It made me so sad when he left. How could you make your own mother so sad?"
"Please… I won't." Midoriya was sorry, how much more could he stress that? "I won't do it again…"
Aizawa wasn't sure what the boy was apologizing for, but whatever it was, it seemed to be causing him a lot of stress. He was still on the floor, covering his ears closely and trembling violently. And while he had dealt with his fair share of children, he never really got involved with the ones that U.A. pulled from their homes. He couldn't understand why Nezu had chosen him to foster this kid, other than the fact that he was a student in his class. He wasn't good with kids, he couldn't handle a situation like this.
But despite his inexperience, he couldn't just leave him on the floor. So he removed one hand from his pocket and outstretched it towards the prone teen, offering it to hoist him up. When the boy didn't take it, or even react to it, he took a few more steps forward, now slightly looming over him.
"Why oh why… why have you done this to me Izuku?!"
Midoriya scrambled to his feet and turned tail, his breathing becoming erratic. His sudden movement surprised both teachers, but Aizawa snapped out of it quickly. His hero instincts kicked in and he chased after the frightened student. The pro called out for him, but wasn't answered.
The teen couldn't hear anything but the overwhelming sound of his heartbeat in his ears as he scampered down the hallway. He didn't have to hear the footsteps behind him to know he was being chased down. He turned the corner and dashed towards the guest room. The door was so close, he could almost reach it.
His whole body was shivering in utter panic, but he pushed himself to keep running. He couldn't get caught. He couldn't let himself get caught. Every time he did, it hurt.
Every time he did, she hurt him.
He bursted into the room, using his shoulder as a battering ram. His lungs ached from the invasive sobs as well as his dash to safety, but he couldn't rest yet. He had skidded to a stop a few feet away from the door, and he needed to lock it. Turning around, he almost broke down in terror at seeing someone running right towards the room. He lunged for the door. She had never been this fast before. Why was she so fast? She was going to reach the room before he could make it to the door. He wasn't going to get to the door in time. She was going to catch him.
No.
No!
NO!!
Gami flung into the door from inside the room, and his shoulder slammed it shut. His fingers flew to the lock and he clicked that closed too. He had no time to ponder his solidity as his successor was still mid dive. The ghost zoomed over and caught the boy before he could face plant onto the hardwood. He cradled him closely with his oversized sleeves as the boy blubbered out inaudibles and incoherents.
Then, Aizawa slammed into the door.
The bang scared more sobs out of the crumpled teen, but his mentor held him close. Running soft strokes through his unruly hair, the spirit just tried to comfort him. But what he didn't realize was that the bang was echoing through Midoriya's head. And it sounded an awful lot like fists bashing on a door…
"Why did you drive Hisashi away from me?! Why did you have to be quirkless?! Don't you realize what you have done to me?!"
"I'm sorry," he wailed into his mentor's arms, "Please I'm sorry…"
"Izu I do not understand…"
The boy gripped the ghost's robe tightly, "Please don't let her in…"
"Her?" the specter repeated, "I do not know-"
Then it hit him. His mother. Midoriya was talking about his mother. But she wasn't here right now, so what was he talking about? Was this related to the episode he had earlier, where he had mistaken Present Mic for his father?
"Izu, that is not your mother. She is not here,"he tried to explain.
He looked up at the ghost, fat tears still streaming down his face, "B-but-"
Gami couldn't let this go on any longer, "That was Eraserhead, not her."
After that statement, the wails quieted down into sniffles, the teen's panic changing into realization. But unlike the first time, he stuttered out no words. Together, they sat there on the floor, not caring how many minutes went by. No noise came from beyond the door either, just empty silence.
Empty, beautiful silence.
The minutes turned to hours, and Midoriya hadn't dared to leave the room. He could hear hushed whispers coming from just beyond the hallway, but no matter how close he pressed his ear to the wall, they were too muffled to understand. He had passed the time by messing around with some souls. Originally, he was trying to get some sorting done, but his mind was the further place from responsibility right now. So he switched to instead tossing them from hand to hand, wishing he could feel more of the bright warmth that radiated from some.
After some moments of recollection, the boy had realized how much he had fucked up. It hadn't even been a full day yet and he was sure Aizawa would want him gone. He wasn't worth all the trouble he was. Times like now he wished the universe would have pity on him and just erase him from existence.
Gami had enough of watching his successor just mope around and sulk. His friend did that practically everyday. And he wanted to see it changed.
"Why don't you do something different…" he suggested, nudging the soul out of the teen's hand.
"Like what?" he moaned drearily.
The ghost motioned to something that lay on the desk, but from the floor, Midoriya couldn't see what it was. So he shakily rose to his feet and shuffled over to the desk. The only thing on it was his phone, his notebook somewhere else in his backpack. He wasn't sure what his mentor had in mind, but he grabbed it anyway and moved back to his spot on the floor.
He tossed his phone from hand to hand, but Gami quickly put an end to that.
"That is not what I meant."
The teen rolled his eyes sarcastically, but stopped throwing the device around. He unlocked it and clicked through some of the applications, opening up his news feed to check if there was anything interesting on there. Sadly, there wasn't, so he exited out of that. He raised his finger to press something else, his gloves working on the touchscreen surprisingly, when the spirit gave him a hard nudge, changing his hand's trajectory.
"Hey," he whined, "What was that for?"
"Sorry," the man huffed, "My bad."
Midoriya was not convinced. "Are you being sarcastic with me right now?"
"Me? Never." Gami faked some shocked body language, since his face couldn't be seen.
The boy just shook his head and looked back down at his phone. Because of the push, his finger ended up clicking his contacts instead. The list was pretty barren, probably even more so than the room he was currently staying in. There were only three numbers in his phone.
The first was Ishihara's old number. He couldn't bring himself to delete the number, even though he couldn't call the man anymore. The family must have still kept the phone number in circulation because anytime he clicked on it and let it dial, he was met with the voicemail, not a machine telling him the number was out of circulation. Sometimes, on days that were particularly rough, he let it ring just to hear the man's voice again. But he didn't really think today was a day he needed it, especially since it usually made him cry afterwards. He had done enough of that already.
The second was some old food delivery service. He used it on nights he wasn't able to cook, or didn't feel like it, which wasn't often. It was fairly expensive, enough for him to deem the service only for special occasions or dire emergencies, but the katsudon they made was delicious. It rejuvenated the fading memories of when his mother used to cook dinner for him, and brought him warmth on days that were especially cold, both physically and emotionally.
The third and final number was Todoroki's, from earlier today. It was appropriately named "Sho", at least, in the ghost's opinion. His eyes hovered over the name.
"Here. We'll figure this out together."
Sure, the boy had offered his assistance concerning his situation, but could Midoriya truly burden him with his complaints? His morals told him that wasn't right, but he still eyed the name like it was an option. His finger hung over the contact. All it would take would be one push, but he'd then be roping the student into his own problems. This was probably another formality thing. Todoroki was only offering his help to be polite. He didn't really mean for the offer to be taken up…
The specter sensed his successor's hesitation, and moved in for the assist. There was no way he was going to let the boy self doubt himself out of this one. This was all part of his master plan after all. He knew his friend needed a trustworthy, reliable person to confide in, and he figured Todoroki was just the friend Midoriya needed.
"Why don't you just send him a text?" he proposed sneakily, just wanting to slip the idea into the boy's mind, "It does not even need to be about this."
He hummed in contemplation, weighing the ghost's words. He was right. The text didn't even need to be about the turmoil he was currently going through. Just something short and pleasant. So he clicked on the contact and started typing.
Hey! This is Izuku from class. How are you?
He hit the send button nervously. Was that too informal? Maybe he should have been more specific about what class… Should he have said class 1-A? His doubts were whirling through his head. This was a mistake. He never should have done this in the first place.
But his phone dinged back and cut through his suffocating thoughts like a knife. He picked it up for a read.
Hey Izuku. I am doing alright, though that may be because I have not run into my father yet. What about you?
He wasn't sure if Todoroki was trying to make a joke, or was genuinely serious. Though, based on the boy's personality, he figured it was more likely the latter. Though, how should he respond back? He thought about it for a moment. There was no real need to involve Todoroki in his issues. Besides, this was just how the formality went.
I'm doing good! Just chilling I guess
God, now that he was reading that text back, he felt himself cringe into yesterday. He had never texted another classmate before, much less a friend. How was he supposed to know what to say, or how to talk?
Did you figure out your living situation?
Todoroki always went straight to the point. He didn't want to lie to the boy, but at the same time, he didn't need to spill all the details.
Yeah
He face-palmed. That was too obnoxious of an answer. Why did he even text Todoroki in the first place? He was too stupid for this.
So? What happened then?
Well, he certainly didn't know when to quit. A lot of people he once admired were like that. Bakugo, All Might… Did this mean his friendship with Todoroki was destined to fail?
"You do not have to tell him, but I do not think he means any harm…"
Maybe Gami was right. Midoriya certainly couldn't remember a time when the ghost wasn't. He could give this friendship with Todoroki a shot.
Principal Nezu sent me off with Aizawa-sensei, but from what I've seen, Mic-sensei lives here too
That was all the truth. Though, he still wasn't sure what relationship his English teacher had with his homeroom teacher.
Oh.
Is that all working out well?
This was it. He either told Todoroki the entire story, or kept him in the dark. He let himself have a few moments to think it over, but he was surprisingly torn. So he looked over to his mentor for guidance.
The spirit knew he would have to be the tie breaker here. This was really important to the boy, but he didn't have to give it any more thought. He knew his answer. This was all for his sake.
"He confided in you that first day. Give him a chance…"
That was all the convincing he needed.
Well
Not really
I don't think Aizawa-sensei likes me here very much
It didn't take long for his phone to ping again.
Oh.
Why is that?
Right… Todoroki didn't know anything that happened in the nurse's office. He'd forgotten about that.
Well, Nezu-san must have made the decision by himself, because even Aizawa-sensei was surprised
Plus I had a really bad panic attack in front of him
I've been hiding out in the guest room since
I think I annoy him
Shoot, was that too much information? He purposely left out the panic attack he had after Present Mic left, deeming that unimportant to the conversation since no one was around to witness it. But even still, he might have overshared.
A panic attack?
What did he do?
He could feel the murderous intent coming off that single message. Was Todoroki really that concerned over him? Maybe it wasn't just a formality thing…
It wasn't really his fault
There was a situation, it just reminded me too much of something from my childhood
I kinda freaked out and ran
There were a few moments of silence, then another ding.
Are you alright now?
Midoriya didn't hesitate with his response.
Yeah I'm good
Just needed a breather I guess
He had needed much more than a breather, but Todoroki didn't need to know that. A soft knock came from upon the door, startling the phone right out of his hands. It landed with a soft thud against the hardwood, but other than that it was fine.
Yamada's voice rang out, "Hey Midoriya… it's been almost an hour. Do you want to join us for dinner?"
Wait, really? Even after all that had happened, they were still offering him food? His stomach was surely empty. He couldn't pass up an offer like this.
"Y-yeah, if that's ok…" he added another comment quickly, "I'll be out in a minute…"
He listened as the loud man's footsteps moved away from the door, until they disappeared into the distance. He then picked his phone off the floor and sent one last cluster of messages to Todoroki.
I have to go
Dinner and all that
Talk to you later
He set the phone down on the desk and wearily walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Gami followed him out, phasing right through the wall instead. Midoriya had left so quickly though, he failed to hear one last ping.
Alright. Stay safe.
By the time Midoriya arrived at the table, Yamada was already seated. It was a small rectangular table, and Aizawa sat at one side along with the English teacher. The two adults had already served themselves each a plate of rice, topped with evenly sauteed vegetables and chicken. Even an hour later, the smell was still delightfully potent in the air, and it made his stomach growl.
Like an injured animal, he wandered over to the table wearily, waiting for instructions. He didn't make eye contact with either man, instead opting to look at his feet. He couldn't see either of them analyzing him with terrifying intent. Present Mic was the first to speak up, but he usually was. The man's announcer tendencies carried with him throughout his daily life, and it naturally shined through even when he didn't mean it to.
"Midoriya," he started, "You can sit down wherever you'd like…"
The boy nodded quietly, but made no comment. He sat down in a chair of his own, on a side completely to himself. There really wasn't any room for him to sit on the same side as the teachers anyway, even if he wanted to. Yamada passed him a plate. It wasn't one of the small ones that he had set out for himself earlier. It was the same size as the other two that were out. That surprised him, but he dared not to say a word about it, risk it getting switched out.
He took the plate from the pro's outstretched hand and set it down in front of him. But even then, he didn't serve himself right away. He had never really eaten with anyone in a long time. Sure, these past two days, he had lunch with Uraraka and Iida, but two isolated incidents didn't really change years of past experiences.
Both teachers watched as the teen simply stared at his empty plate. It was almost like he had never eaten with others before.
"You can serve yourself whatever you want…" the blond piped up for both of them, "You don't have to wait for instructions or anything."
Gami added his two cents, "Just take advantage of the situation. This is a tasteful meal you cooked. Now you get to have a portion of it."
That gave Midoriya the confidence he needed to grip the serving spoon for the rice. He plowed it into the mound of rice in the pot and scooped up a small portion from himself. The entire time he moved it onto his plate, he watched the heroes carefully. He eyed them suspiciously, as if they'd take back their generosity any second. Then he moved to the vegetables, and then the chicken, but not without losing his apprehensiveness. But the pros never changed their mind about the food, and while that would normally be a calming thing, it only made him more paranoid.
He poked at his food nervously, not really sure if he should start. But the smell eventually got to his raging stomach and he took a bite. The mess of flavors exploded in his mouth, only amplified by his hunger. It was delicious, more delicious than he could have ever imagined. Part of his overly anxious mind was expecting one of the adults to take the food away from him, so he began shoveling mouthful after mouthful, not wanting to waste a single second.
Yamada had already started his food before Midoriya had, but he was flabbergasted at the boy's eating speed. He was already almost finished with his plate, and the teacher was barely halfway done. He was worried the student might choke, so he attempted to make some light hearted conversation like he had done on the way to the house.
"So Midoriya," he began, "I didn't know you could cook. This katsudon is really good."
The teen swallowed the mound of rice in his mouth thickly, "Y-yeah, I'm just glad you think it's ok. S-sorry about using your food without asking…"
The two teachers shared a puzzled glance. Was that the reason for the mess that happened earlier? If it was, what did that reveal about this kid's home life? Was he not allowed to touch the food at home?
The blond tried to make some progress amending the situation, "Oh, it's really no problem. Those leftovers would have probably gone to waste anyway."
Still, that didn't ease the boy's worries. He didn't respond to the comments, and dinner fell into uncomfortable silence. Aizawa still didn't make any efforts to join into the conversation, and Yamada was becoming frustrated. He racked his brain for a good way to get the man into the discussion.
"Hey Sho," he started, surprising both the teacher and the student, "Did you know that Midoriya here likes to analyze quirks?"
Aizawa shot a glare at the loud man, "No I didn't."
"Well he does! And he's super good at it!!" he practically yelled, "The little listener's even done some notes on you!!"
That caught the pro's attention, "Oh?"
Both adults looked over to Midoriya, one in excitement and one in dulled interest. The teen felt his face go pale and his throat ran dry. This was such a 180 from before, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Gami placed a bony hand on his successor's left shoulder.
"Just take your time," the ghost advised, "You do not have to share more than you are comfortable with."
He gave the spirit a slight nod and turned back to face his homeroom teacher, "U-um well, your quirk is Erasure. It lets you erase non mutant type quirks when you look at someone."
Aizawa jumped in, seemingly annoyed, "Well, that's obvious."
Yamada elbowed him hard under the table, and the ragged man cursed under his breath, "Don't mind him, please continue."
The boy's confidence caved in hard. He felt his passion for the conversation die off. He really didn't want to keep talking, but it would be rude to just leave now. He shoveled in the last few bites left on his plate and pushed his utensils to the side.
"I-it's fine," he stuttered, "I'll just get you my notebook. It's got some of my notes on Aizawa-sensei…"
He stood up from his chair and scurried off back to the guest room. Once the boy was mostly out of earshot, the blond turned to face his fellow teacher.
"Sho what are you doing?" he hissed, "I get that you don't think you're qualified for this, but that doesn't give you a reason to be a jackass to the kid."
Aizawa was taken aback by the use of foul language, "Fuck, I'm sorry Zashi." He held a hand up to his forehead and ran the other through his messy hair.
"I'm not asking you to apologize," the pro continued, "I'm asking for you to give this your full effort."
The tired man tried to backtrack, "I already told you I-"
"Well you're not," he almost yelled, but kept his voice under control. The sudden interruption caught Aizawa off guard and he promptly shut up.
Yamada scooted his chair closer, and brought his voice down to a whisper, "Look, we still don't know the full extent of what this kid went through. We have to treat this with care and sensitivity, especially after whatever happened earlier. And you purposely being a jerk isn't helping."
Eraserhead sighed, knowing he was completely in the wrong, "You're right."
But that wasn't enough for Present Mic, "And…?"
"And I'll try and do better…"
"That's what I like to hear," the loud blond smiled.
The two quickly shut their mouths as a set of footsteps from the hallway grew louder. Their hero instincts kicked in and they slowed their breathing to make less noise. Both could make out slight whispers and strained to hear more.
"Don't get me wrong, I am curious…" the next set of words were muffled by footsteps, but the footsteps eventually quieted down, "I can't just ask them that! That'll just give them more reasons to not want me around…"
The teachers didn't bother to pretend they weren't eavesdropping when Midoriya turned the corner and reappeared into the dining room. He was holding a thin notebook in one hand, a little battered but in good condition overall. He looked startled to see them there, and jumped slightly when making eye contact.
Aizawa cut straight to the point, "Ask us what?"
Yamada noticed the boy squirm under the piercing gaze and gave a look to the man next to him. Eraserhead immediately softened, but kept up his neutral facade.
"Um Gami's a bit confused on what exactly your relationship is. Between you and Mic-sensei, I mean," he added another comment under his breath, "I'm a little curious too…"
Present Mic watched the other hero carefully. He wasn't going to say anything. This was the perfect opportunity for him to see how Aizawa would handle this situation. He hoped the hero took their little heart to heart seriously. This was his chance.
The ragged pro just sighed, "Yamada and I are married. Have been for a good five years now."
Midoriya was surprised at the blunt answer, "O-oh."
"I'm going to ask you to keep this under wraps for obvious reasons," he continued, but the smugness in his voice was gone, "The amount of media attention around relationships between pro heroes is fatal to anyone underground."
"Y-yeah," he replied, "will do."
The boy stood there awkwardly for a few moments, no one in the room saying a word. Then he slid the notebook onto the table, away from the food.
"Here's the book," he clarified, "Aizawa-sensei is on pages 48 to 52… and there's a little more on page 117."
"What about me?" Present Mic joked.
The teen seemed to understand it was a joke and smothered a laugh, "You're in a different book, sorry."
The two shared a smile and the student instantly felt more at ease. He reached for one of the pots in the middle of the table and wrapped his hand around the handle. The blond teacher looked confused.
"What are you doing?" he asked a little too quickly.
Midoriya immediately flinched back and let go of the handle, "Uh, I was just going to put the food away…"
Aizawa felt like it was a good time to jump in, "Don't worry about it, Problem Child. We'll pick it all up later."
He clearly wasn't expecting the nice gesture from the intimidating pro, but he didn't shy away as much, "O-oh ok."
He didn't feel the need to stick around in the dining room anymore, so he quietly started moving towards the hallway entrance. The boy still had a lot of souls to send away before he went to bed, and the earlier he started, the better. Yamada noticed the student trying to retreat and stood up slowly from his chair, understanding from his quick question that suddenness made the teen uncomfortable.
"Midoriya," he called out, but kept his volume steady.
Said boy stopped in his tracks and looked back behind him. "Yes?"
The answer was so small, so scared that it almost made the hero forget about his thought in the first place, "If you need anything, or if there's anything we can do for you, just let us know."
He nodded and turned to leave, but only a few steps later, he flipped back around and called out shakily, "Can you… not call me Midoriya? A-anything else is fine."
Present Mic flashed a friendly thumbs up, "No problem, little listener!"
Aizawa chuckled from the table, "Pretty sure I've already got that under control."
Both conformations were enough for the teen to feel comfortable leaving, and so that's exactly what he did. The two heroes listened as his footsteps grew fainter and fainter, until they couldn't hear them at all. A subsequent groan of a door on its hinges was all they needed to hear to confirm he had made it to his room.
Present Mic turned to his husband, knowing the boy was out of earshot, "Who exactly is Gami?"
Aizawa just let out an exasperated sigh.
"I'm not explaining that right now."