Shota Aizawa, the stern and often disheveled pro-hero known as Eraserhead, had seen his fair share of students come and go at U.A. High School. He prided himself on treating all of them with equal care and indifference, knowing that each had their unique struggles and strengths. But among all the problem children he had encountered, one young man stood out like a beacon of paradoxical light: Izuku Midoriya.
Izuku was undoubtedly strong, his quirk growing stronger with every passing day, but it was his heart that both fascinated and worried Aizawa. The boy was naive, wearing his selflessness like a badge of honor. He had little regard for self-preservation and even less for self-worth. In his eyes, bad things were an expectation, and he'd often shrug them off as if they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. It was when good things happened to him that things changed.
Every tiny victory, every ounce of happiness that came Izuku's way was regarded as a blessing he believed himself wholly unworthy of. He felt a relentless need to earn these moments, as if the universe itself had made some mistake by being kind to him.
Most people didn't seem to notice these inner struggles that Izuku grappled with daily, but Aizawa did. He couldn't help but see through the facade of the cheerful, energetic boy who lit up the halls of U.A. Midoriya's gentle nature and enthusiastic leadership qualities were undeniable, yet he often chose to live life out of the spotlight, content to let others shine.
There were days, however, when everything Aizawa thought he knew about the boy shattered. Weeks would pass where Midoriya barely spoke, his eyes avoiding contact with anyone else, and his smiles turning into painful grimaces. It was as if he vanished during those times, and no one else seemed to notice or care. His friends continued as if nothing had changed, and the rest of the world acted as though he didn't exist.
Everyone else might ignore it, but Aizawa couldn't, and more importantly, he wouldn't. He was determined to get to the bottom of this enigma wrapped in sunshine and shadows. Midoriya might offer little help in this endeavor, but Aizawa was resolute. He would force self-love onto this child if it was the last thing he did.
Aizawa began by observing Izuku from a distance, noting the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he withdrew from others, and the moments when he seemed to be on the verge of breaking. Slowly but surely, he began to piece together the puzzle, understanding that beneath the bright exterior was a boy burdened by the weight of his own expectations.
One evening, as the sun set over the U.A. campus, Aizawa found himself standing outside the dormitory where Midoriya resided. He took a deep breath, ready to confront the boy and offer his support. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, Izuku's eyes widened in surprise.
"Midoriya," Aizawa began, his voice unusually gentle, "we need to talk."
—-
Izuku blinked in surprise as his teacher, Shota Aizawa, stood at his dorm room door, wearing an expression that was a rare departure from his usual stern demeanor. Without waiting for an invitation, Aizawa stepped inside, and Izuku hesitated before closing the door behind them.
"Midoriya," Aizawa began again, his voice softer but no less determined, "I've noticed something about you, something that I can't ignore any longer."
Izuku shifted nervously, his eyes flicking to the floor. "I'm not sure what you mean, sensei."
Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I mean your constant self-sacrifice, your belief that you don't deserve the good things that come your way. It's not healthy, and it's not true."
Izuku's gaze remained fixed on the floor, but he didn't interrupt.
Aizawa continued, "You're strong, Midoriya. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. But your recklessness, your lack of self-worth, it worries me. You shouldn't have to earn happiness like it's some kind of unattainable prize. You deserve it simply because you exist."
Izuku's shoulders tensed, and he finally looked up at his teacher, his eyes wide with vulnerability. "But I've caused so much trouble for others. I've put them in danger because of my own mistakes."
Aizawa nodded, acknowledging the truth in Izuku's words. "Yes, you've made mistakes, just like every other student here. But that doesn't mean you should shoulder all the blame. We learn and grow from our mistakes, but we also forgive ourselves. You have a heart that cares deeply for others, and that's a strength, not a weakness."
Izuku's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he struggled to find his voice. "I... I just don't want to let anyone down. I want to be a hero they can rely on."
Aizawa's expression softened even further. "You will be, Midoriya. But you can't be a hero to others if you're not a hero to yourself first. Self-love and self-worth are not selfish, they're necessary. You need to believe in yourself, not just your quirk."
Izuku wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye. "I'll try, sensei."
Aizawa gave a small, rare smile. "That's all I ask, Midoriya. And I'll be here to support you, just like all your friends will."
———————————-
In the days that followed, Izuku Midoriya tried his best to heed Aizawa's advice. He attempted to be kinder to himself, to believe that he was deserving of happiness and success. But it proved to be much more challenging than he had ever imagined.
The guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Every time he faltered or found himself unable to shake off his self-doubt, he felt like he was betraying Aizawa's faith in him. The fact that he was now receiving attention and support made it all the worse. He couldn't help but believe he was a burden, a problem Aizawa shouldn't have to deal with.
As the weeks passed, Izuku started to withdraw more, retreating further into his own world. He attended classes and training, wearing a facade of normalcy for his friends and teachers, but inside, he was crumbling. He hid his struggles, the days when he couldn't muster a smile, and the nights when he lay awake, berating himself for his perceived inadequacies.
He knew he was hiding things from Aizawa, and it ate at him. The man had gone out of his way to help, and Izuku felt like he was letting him down at every turn. But he saw it as a necessary sacrifice, a way to protect Aizawa from the mess that he was. The thought that he might be a burden or a disappointment to his teacher was unbearable.
One evening, as the sun cast long shadows across the U.A. campus, Aizawa noticed something different about Izuku. The boy had become even quieter, his smiles fewer and farther between. Aizawa had seen this pattern before, and he knew he had to intervene once more.
He found Izuku sitting alone on the rooftop, staring at the horizon with a distant look in his eyes. Aizawa took a seat beside him, not saying anything at first. He knew that sometimes silence was more powerful than words.
After a while, Izuku spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Aizawa-sensei. I've been trying, but I can't stop feeling like I'm just taking up space and time. I'm supposed to be a hero, but all I'm doing is disappointing you."
Aizawa turned to him, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Midoriya, you're not a burden, and you're certainly not a disappointment. It's okay to struggle; it's okay to have bad days. What's not okay is hiding it all and pretending everything's fine."
Tears welled up in Izuku's eyes, and he choked back a sob. "I just thought if I kept it to myself, I wouldn't trouble you. I didn't want you to worry about me."
Aizawa placed a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "I'm your teacher, Midoriya, but I'm also here to support you, just like your friends are. You don't have to carry this alone. We're a team, and that includes your struggles."
Izuku let out a shuddering breath, his shoulders trembling with emotion. "I'm sorry, sensei. I didn't mean to hide things from you. I just... I didn't want you to see how weak I am."
Aizawa gave a rare, genuine smile. "Strength isn't about never feeling weak, Midoriya. It's about facing those feelings and asking for help when you need it. I'm here for you, and I'm not going anywhere."
——————
In the days that followed, Izuku made a sincere effort to take Aizawa's advice to heart. He tried to be kinder to himself, to believe that he deserved happiness and success, but it felt like an uphill battle against the relentless tide of self-doubt.
As he wrestled with his thoughts, they became increasingly complicated and muddled. He couldn't shake the feeling of being a burden, and every effort to convince himself otherwise seemed to fail. The guilt and self-loathing grew, and he found himself spiraling into a dark abyss of despair.
Aizawa watched from a distance, his concern deepening with each passing day. He had seen this pattern before in troubled students, but he had never seen someone as resilient as Izuku struggle to this extent. He wanted to intervene, to offer support, but every time he approached, it only seemed to make Izuku feel worse.
One evening, as the sun set over the campus, Aizawa found Izuku alone in the training area, his fists clenched as he pummeled a punching bag with a fierce determination. Aizawa approached cautiously, concern etched into his features.
"Midoriya," he began, his voice low and soothing, "you don't have to carry this weight alone. We can find a way through this together."
Izuku paused for a moment, his breath ragged, before turning to face his teacher. His eyes were haunted, and his voice trembled as he responded, "I'm trying, Aizawa-sensei. But it's so hard. I can't stop feeling like I'm a failure, like I don't deserve anything good in my life."
Aizawa's heart ached for the young hero-in-training. He took a step closer, wanting to offer comfort, but as he did, Izuku's gaze shifted away, and he muttered, "I don't want to be a burden to you, sensei."
Aizawa's attempt to help had backfired, and he felt helpless. He knew that Izuku's sense of self-worth was worsening, but he was so focused on building the boy's self-preservation instincts that he hadn't noticed the dangerous depths to which Izuku's thoughts had plunged.
As days turned into weeks, Izuku's inner turmoil escalated. He began to isolate himself even more, avoiding his friends and mentors. His thoughts grew grimmer, and he started to engage in increasingly risky behavior, almost as if he were testing the limits of his own self-preservation.
Aizawa sensed that something was seriously wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He redoubled his efforts to reach out to Izuku, but the young hero-in-training continued to hide the darkest corners of his mind.
And then, one fateful night, everything came crashing down.
The night was dark and stormy as Izuku ventured out, his mind a whirlwind of despair and confusion. He had been spiraling deeper into his own thoughts, feeling lost in a maze with no way out. In his attempt to escape the overwhelming feeling of being a burden, he had distanced himself from his friends and mentors, and now he found himself truly alone.
As the rain poured down, drenching him to the bone, he realized he had no idea where he was. His phone, typically his lifeline to the world, had run out of battery hours ago, and he had no way to contact anyone for help.
Panic set in as he stumbled through the unfamiliar streets, each turn leading him further into a labyrinth of confusion. The city that was usually his home felt like a foreign, unforgiving place. The weight of his self-doubt and guilt bore down on him with every step.
With each passing minute, hopelessness tightened its grip on his heart. He couldn't see a way out of the darkness that had consumed him. And then, just as despair threatened to swallow him whole, disaster struck.
Izuku, disoriented and unable to focus on his surroundings, misjudged a step and tumbled down a flight of wet, slippery stairs. Pain erupted through his body as he landed with a sickening thud at the bottom. His vision blurred, and the agony in his limbs was overwhelming.
He tried to call for help, but his voice came out as a weak, desperate whisper. No one was there to hear him, and he couldn't even muster the strength to crawl to safety.
Alone, injured, and with no way to reach out to anyone who cared about him, Izuku lay there, the storm raging on around him, a physical manifestation of the tempest within his own mind. His world had crumbled, and he was trapped in a nightmare of his own making, with no hope of finding his way back home.
——-
Aizawa's heart sank when he realized that Izuku Midoriya was missing. It was rare for the boy to disappear without a word, and the teacher's worry intensified when he recalled their recent conversations. He knew that Izuku had been struggling with his sense of self-worth, and now it seemed that struggle had led him down a dark path.
Aizawa immediately mobilized his resources, reaching out to the other teachers and students to see if anyone had seen or heard from Izuku. It quickly became apparent that the boy had left without telling anyone where he was going. He had snuck out in the dead of night, and it would take time to even realize he was gone.
Hours turned into a desperate search, with Aizawa and his colleagues combing the city, retracing Izuku's known routes, and contacting his friends in the hope of finding a clue. The storm that raged through the night only added to their anxiety, making the search more challenging.
It was Katsuki Bakugo who eventually stumbled upon Izuku, hours after he had gone missing. Katsuki had been one of the last people to see Izuku before he vanished, and something about their last interaction had left him uneasy.
Following a hunch, Katsuki retraced their steps from that evening and found himself near the scene where Izuku had taken his fateful fall. He saw the broken railing and the scattered belongings, and his heart clenched with dread.
Rushing to the bottom of the stairs, Katsuki found Izuku battered and unconscious, his body limp and motionless. Panic surged through him as he checked for signs of life, relieved to find a faint pulse. He immediately called for help, and soon, Aizawa and the others arrived at the scene.
Izuku was rushed to the hospital, his injuries severe but not immediately life-threatening. It was a close call, and it left everyone shaken. The realization of how close they had come to losing Izuku, not just physically but to his inner demons, weighed heavily on them all.
As Izuku lay unconscious in the hospital bed, Aizawa knew that the battle to save his student was far from over. The boy's sense of self-worth had been shattered, and it would take time, patience, and unwavering support to help him rebuild. The night's events had been a wake-up call, a stark reminder of how fragile and precious life could be, and Aizawa was determined to ensure that Izuku would never feel alone or unworthy again.
———-
In the sterile hospital room, Katsuki Bakugo sat by Izuku Midoriya's bedside, his face etched with guilt and worry. Izuku remained unconscious, his condition precarious, and Bakugo couldn't shake the feeling that he was responsible for all of it.
Bakugo muttered to himself, "Damn it, Deku. This is all my fault."
Aizawa, who had been keeping a watchful eye on both his students, stepped into the room and overheard Bakugo's self-blame. He decided it was time to have a conversation that had been long overdue.
"Bakugo," Aizawa said evenly, "we need to talk."
Bakugo looked up, his expression a mixture of defiance and resignation. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
As they settled into an uncomfortable silence, Bakugo finally spoke, his voice tinged with remorse. "I... I was a real asshole to Deku when we were kids."
Aizawa nodded, urging him to continue.
Bakugo took a deep breath. "I always thought he was better than me, even without a damn quirk. He was fearless, and I hated that. I wanted to be the best, but no matter how hard I tried, he was always ahead."
Aizawa's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, Izuku was quirkless?"
Bakugo nodded, his voice strained. "Yeah. But it didn't matter to him. He never gave up. And it drove me insane."
Aizawa realized the depths of resentment that had festered between the two boys for so long. "So, you bullied him because he was quirkless?"
Bakugo shook his head. "Not just that. I wanted him to admit that he was weak, that I was better. And... I wanted to prove it to myself too."
Aizawa sighed, understanding the complex web of emotions that had driven Bakugo's actions. "Izuku went through hell growing up, dealing with the stigma of being quirkless and your bullying. That's a lot for anyone to bear."
Bakugo's shoulders slumped, his anger dissipating into a deep sense of regret. "I know that now. But it's too late. He won't wake up, and I'm afraid I'll never get the chance to apologize."
As they spoke, Izuku's condition continued to deteriorate. His fever spiked, and he began to shiver uncontrollably. Aizawa, alarmed, called for a nurse.
Bakugo watched in anguish as the medical team rushed to Izuku's side, frantically working to stabilize him. It was a gut-wrenching sight, and the weight of his past actions bore down on him with crushing force.
Aizawa placed a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "We'll get through this, Bakugo, but we need to focus on helping Izuku first. And when he wakes up, you'll have a chance to make amends."
Bakugo nodded, tears in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. "I hope it's not too late."
———-
As the medical team rushed Izuku away to treat his worsening condition, both Aizawa and Bakugo watched through the window with a sense of helplessness. The urgency in the room was palpable, and anxiety hung thick in the air.
Aizawa placed a comforting hand on Bakugo's trembling shoulder. "We have to stay strong, Bakugo. Izuku needs us now more than ever."
Bakugo, usually so composed and self-assured, was reduced to a sobbing mess. He nodded, his tears falling freely. "I know, but I can't help feeling responsible for all of this."
Time seemed to stretch on, each passing moment feeling like an eternity as they watched the medical team work tirelessly to save Izuku's life. The heart monitor displayed erratic readings, and the tension in the room reached its peak.
Then, suddenly, the heart monitor let out a long, unbroken tone. Aizawa's heart sank, and Bakugo let out a choked sob. It was a flatline.
Aizawa hugged Bakugo tightly, trying to provide some solace in the face of the devastating moment. Tears welled up in his own eyes as he whispered, "Izuku..."
But just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a miracle happened. The medical team sprang into action, performing CPR and administering life-saving measures. And then, against all odds, a faint blip appeared on the heart monitor.
Aizawa and Bakugo watched in astonishment as Izuku's heart started beating again, weak but steady. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room.
Weeks passed, and Izuku remained unconscious, his body slowly recovering from the ordeal. Aizawa and Bakugo took turns sitting by his bedside, talking to him as if he could hear their words, desperately willing him to wake up.
One day, as the sun streamed through the window, bathing the hospital room in warm light, Izuku's eyelids fluttered. Aizawa, who happened to be at his side, couldn't believe his eyes.
"Izuku?" Aizawa whispered, his voice filled with hope.
Izuku blinked slowly, his gaze unfocused at first. Then, recognition washed over his face as he weakly whispered, "Sensei?"
Bakugo, who had been resting in a chair nearby, jolted awake at the sound of Izuku's voice. Tears welled up in his eyes as he rushed to Izuku's side. "Deku! You're finally awake!"
Izuku smiled weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Kacchan... Sensei... I'm so sorry."
Aizawa and Bakugo exchanged a glance, relief and forgiveness in their eyes. Aizawa gently squeezed Izuku's hand. "There's no need to apologize, Izuku. We're just glad you're okay."
As Izuku's strength gradually returned, he received an outpouring of support from his friends and mentors. The bond between the three of them had deepened through their shared ordeal, and they were determined to help Izuku heal, both physically and emotionally.
In the face of death, Izuku had been given a second chance at life. It was a chance to confront his inner demons and rebuild his sense of self-worth. And with the unwavering support of Aizawa and Bakugo, he would emerge from the darkness stronger than ever before.
