hero's shadow // mha

73) designer drugs

Izuku won't say that Aizawa ruins the moment, but he sort of ruins the fucking moment.

He's busy digging the hot fudge out of his sundae and calculating how much higher he'd have to be up for the fudge to be cold by the time it hits the ground upon being dropped when Aizawa clears his throat.

Which is never a good sign. Izuku can only hope Aizawa had something stuck in there and was trying to get it out.

"I don't want you to think anyone's mad at you," Aizawa begins slowly, casually, which makes Izuku deflate.

Yeah, so much for that.

He pauses in his eating but says nothing, so Aizawa continues. Neither of them are looking at each other. They never have to look at each other these days. They're somewhere past that, beyond the murky waters of trust.

"You're not in trouble, and no one's upset. I'm not upset." Aizawa's ankles cross over one another, and Izuku finds himself mirroring his teacher without thinking. "I know that... the video today obviously wasn't a great thing to see again. I know having it released to the public was probably the worst scenario imaginable, but it's out, so we have no other choice but to deal with it now. Make sense?"

Izuku nods, focusing on his reflection in his spoon.

"The main thing to take away from this, at least for you, is that the media is no longer calling Rabbit a murderer." Aizawa gestures vaguely with his cone, his voice still neutral and calm. Izuku wonders if he had to practice this speech beforehand. Would he be speaking differently if they weren't alone? "Support for you is overwhelming. I'm already receiving word that people are scheduling protests to fight back against the organizations still trying to label you as a domestic terrorist."

At this, Izuku's brows turn up, and he clutches the cup of his sundae even tighter. "That's dangerous," he whispers, "them protesting. Something bad might happen."

It'll surely be a breeding ground for extremists and other groups, is what he means.

Aizawa shrugs, unbothered. "Well, we can't exactly stop them. They've all got strong hearts and minds. It's just like how Naomasa and I never quite managed to stop you when you were set on something you thought to be right."

Izuku looks at him, taking note of the way his black hair, which is frizzy and curly tonight, has fallen onto his shoulders. It's gotten long, telling Izuku he hasn't asked Yamada or Kayama to cut it for him in a while. The stubble on Aizawa's face has become darker and thicker, too. He hasn't shaved in a bit.

The boy briefly wonders why he's chosen not to.

Moonlight shines on Aizawa's skin, revealing a myriad of thin white scars along his neck and jaw that have long since healed. Each one holds a different story, a different fight, a different accident.

Izuku glances back down at the neon city. "I don't know how you guys put up with me for so long," he confesses.

Aizawa grunts. "We didn't exactly have a choice. It was either we looked after you or someone else would. And that wouldn't have gone well." He pauses, thinking. "I can't say it was never fun, though."

"Really?" Izuku's voice becomes a little higher; hopeful. "It was fun? Like, during our patrols?"

"Sometimes. When you weren't dancing in front of bullets."

Izuku blinks. "I don't remember ever doing that with you there."

"'Course you don't. It was always just another night for you, but not for me." As he says these words, Izuku senses a growing turmoil within him. Bitterness edges into his next sentence. "If you ever have a student of your own one day, you'll understand."