The messed up life of Izuku Midoriya

Chapter Uno (1)

"Okay problem children, class is dismissed," Aizawa droned, gathering his things as his students shouted and gathered their things excitedly. Aizawa hesitated for a moment before he called, "Midoriya, stay after class please, I need to talk to you about something," The boy looked up in surprise. "Yes sir, Aizawa-sensei," he said. Aizawa heard one of the other children in his class giggle, saw Kirishima lean against Midoriya's chair, whisper something into his ear, and ruffle his hair. Midoriya huffed and groaned. "I didn't do anything. I haven't broken any bones yet this week,"

"Sir, what did I do ? If I did I'm more than willing to help out and I think some oftheotherswouldtoo... I'm rambling, sorry!" Midoriya exclaimed, coming to his senses. "It's fine problem child, I was just wondering where you learned to fight dirty, dirty as in throat punches, wrist snaps, leg sweeps, gouging out eyes, and, excuse my language, groin kicks?" Aizawa asked. Midoriya looked down and simply muttered, "Taught myself, I know it's bad but it's all I got in a quirkless fight..."

Aizawa watched the greenette curiously. "Quirkless... fight? Why would you be in a quirkless fight in the first place?" he asked. They boy flinched before answering, "Say there's a villain, or we're training and I'm supposed to fight a person with an erasure quirk, all I have is fighting styles. Also my quirk is destructive to my body, as you've said before, it will make all the difference in the world if I can fight against my opponent without hurting myself, and I got *inaudible muttering*" Midoriya explained, the rest of his sentence had been jumbled and Aizawa hadn't understood it.

Aizawa hesitated again. "Why don't you come to The Fifteen Colors on Friday night? I'd like to teach you some things about how to fight in a quirkless fight. I'm already teaching another student privately and you'll be the second and last person I will teach personally," Aizawa finally suggested. "Oh, um... sure Aizawa-sensei, I'll be there!" Midoriya exclaimed. "Good."

"Sh-shinsou-kun?! Is that you? What are you doing here?" Midoriya exclaimed. "Midoriya? Oh and just call me Hitoshi, I don't really like formal names," Hitoshi said. "Alright, Hitoshi~, but you," Midoriya jabbed a finger into Hitoshi's chest, "didn't answer my question," he replied, his eyebrow raised in a cocky way. Hitoshi was nothing less than shell shocked. "Y-you can be sassy?" Hitoshi exclaimed. "Yes Hitoshi, I can, now answer!" Midoriya exclaimed.

"Oh! Um... I'm being taught by a... a..." Hitoshi started. "By me," Aizawa said, suddenly appearing next to them. "Wait... Hitoshi, you're the other student Aizawa-sensei is teaching?!" Midoriya exclaimed. "Uh huh. Wait, that means... you're the other... hold on what?!" Hitoshi stuttered. "Yes Hito, can I call you that? Anyway yeah I'm the other student Aizawa-sensei. Also call me Izuku, Izu, Zuku, Zu, or Zuzu," Izuku said, easily accepting the news. "U-um alright," Hitoshi replied, his voice was full of confusion, why had the other boy accepted this so easily?

Aizawa sighed. "Now I have a sassy, more confident Problem Child and a shyer Hitoshi," he murmured. "Yes Aizawa-sensei, yes you do," Izuku giggled. "Alright, I'll call you everything except your actual name, good?" Hitoshi asked, regaining his cool. "Fine, but I can call you Toshi too," Izuku huffed. Hitoshi laughed and replied, "Sure Izu, sure," Hitoshi laughed as Izuku pouted. "Come on problem children, we have work to do," Aizawa sighed.

"Uh, not trying to be rude here but, why are we standing here staring at an insanely dirty beach and, Zuzu, why are you glaring at the 'No-littering' sign?" Hitoshi asked curiously. "I... cleaned this beach for ten moNTHS!! TEN!! AND WHAT DO THEY DO?!?! IGNORE MY SIGN, LITTER ANYWAY, AND," Izuku ranted, pointing to a pile of electronics, some of the screens were blinking, "AND WORKING ELECTRONICS!! WHAT WAS THE POINT OF BUYING IT IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO TOSS IT ON A BEACH AND FORGET ABOUT IT?!" Izuku screamed, punching a pile of metal, making it scatter and his hand to bloody slightly.