Chapter Four

"As many of you know, the…full reports of what happened with the nation's number one hero, Endeavor, have been released…detailing what happened the night of the incident…"

The talk show host on the television screen in front of them drones on in a small, almost unsure voice. His words circle in Hizashi's head, over and over, and the seconds draw on until they feel like hours. Hizashi wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants something.

But he can only look at Aizawa, at his side, his own tired eyes fixed on the screen. Aizawa doesn't look at him, doesn't meet his eyes. Aizawa only stares up, his face blank, near-black eyes completely unsurprised as he watches the host talk. This really isn't any surprise to him. He expected this. He knew about this, and nothing else is clearer to Hizashi in this moment than the fact that Aizawa did something, that the thing those hosts are talking about ties directly back to him.

Hizashi has never heard himself sound as broken as he does when he gathers the words to speak, "What did you do?"

His voice is cracking and quiet, and he doubts anyone except Aizawa can hear him.

Aizawa's dark eyes glance at him, his voice equally quiet, "The right thing."

------

There's a beat, a silence that expands and feels as though it takes up hours, dragging on and on as Hizashi looks at Aizawa. There's still nothing in Aizawa's expression, just a blank, neutral look, as if they're talking about the weather or what to do for lunch.

As if Aizawa didn't just tell him that he went behind Hizashi's back and made a life changing decision—a life changing decision for someone who's a kid, someone who's been dragged through the media for the past few days with the little bit of information they did have. Someone who's life is now out in the open for everyone to see, who will now continue being talked about constantly. The media only has more fuel now, more things to talk about, and Shouto's name will continue to be on their lips for months to come.

Aizawa doesn't understand the media. He doesn't understand press. He never has, and he never will. Hizashi does, though, and he knows that no one is going to shut up about this for a very long time.

Shouto is a kid. He's a kid with his own wants, ambitions, and personality. He's a kid who's entire life shouldn't be dragged out for entertainment, for a topic on a talk show. They hadn't had much beforehand—though they'd taken everything they had and made the worst of it—but it was something he and Aizawa were trying to figure out how to manage. It was a train that was eventually going to run out of fuel, especially when the holidays were over and real, legal action was started, but now—Aizawa's just added a near unlimited supply of that fuel, as well as more passengers, and there's no telling when this media frenzy will end. If it'll end.

Aizawa's just made a lot more trouble for them, for Shouto, than they had before, and all Hizashi can do is stare in disbelief at him, Aizawa's face unchanging, like he doesn't even know the full extent of what he just did.

"You released the reports…" Hizashi breathes, his heart beating fast in his ears. The noise from the television falls to a distant murmur, the walls of the room closing in around them, boxing them in, and Hizashi somehow feels like he's suffocating, standing next to Aizawa here. Aizawa doesn't initially answer at first and Hizashi blinks and repeats it again, voice full of total disbelief, as he tries to process what's just happened, "You… You released the reports…"

In the silence, he can hear the hosts talking again. It's distant, but he can still hear it, and the words he hears almost seem to answer in place of Aizawa.

It's a different host talking now, a woman that Hizashi recognizes from seeing the program on the other day.

"While the footage is still being kept under wraps, we now have full write-ups of the incident, and news sources across the country are all saying that the identity of the person who released them is unknown. I read through it, though and I—I couldn't even get through them. They're very graphic, aren't they?"

Murmurs of agreement come from both her fellow hosts and studio audience. She continues on.

"From reading them, we can assume that it's from a source close to the Todorokis. I can only hope that… that they aren't blaming this boy for what happened, like the family is."

Aizawa turns his head, stares at the television. Hizashi wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and demand that he react to this, demand that Aizawa tell him exactly what he was thinking when he did this. Or maybe tell him that he wasn't thinking at all. Hizashi would settle for either.

"Eh, they've really flipped sides, haven't they?" Aizawa talks quietly, his voice flat and neutral and it occurs to Hizashi that Aizawa has no idea what he's just done. Aizawa hates the media, hates dealing with them, and even after all these years with Aizawa's total avoidance of anything that even remotely looks like a reporter, he still hasn't learned anything about them and the catastrophe they can cause. His black eyes focus on the screen and he still talks in the same tone, hardly even reacting, "Seems pretty hypocritical to me, with what they're saying about Shouto's family not blaming him. Just earlier today they were talking about how there's two sides to every story. I wonder if they'll issue an apology…"

Aizawa trails off as a graphic flashes on screen, the program cutting into a commercial. Hizashi draws a deep, shaking breath in, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He's angry, mad, upset, and more than anything, he feels guilty, like he caused this in not stopping Aizawa or knowing he was planning something until it was too late and he'd already carried out whatever.

"I can't believe you," Hizashi's voice is barely more than a pathetic whisper. He doesn't know what to say, what to think. He didn't expect this. There was no way he could've. He stares right at Aizawa and forces his voice a little stronger, "You did this without talking to me?"

That seems to snap Aizawa out of it, at least a little. He turns back to Hizashi and he turns his head a little at Hizashi's expression, as if wondering why Hizashi looks so serious, so upset. It doesn't seem to dawn on him exactly why Hizashi's upset, though, because he gives him an answer, voice a little incredulous like his response is obvious, "We did talk. When the press conference was going on. Remember?"

Hizashi wants to scream. Aizawa can't actually think that, can't think that that counts as 'talking about it'. He doesn't want to believe that Aizawa actually, truly thinks that, but he knows he does. Aizawa's blunt. He's logical, but he's literal and he doesn't exactly lie all that often, especially to Hizashi. No, the reasoning that Aizawa just gave to him—he actually thinks that, thinks that the conversation they had in the stairwell counted as them talking about doing something as drastic as releasing the full reports on what happened to Todoroki.

"We… we didn't talk about this. We didn't talk about this at all—" His eyes are wide and still, Aizawa isn't quite reacting. His expression is quiet and muted, like he still thinks this is just an everyday decision. "—Shouta, what did you do?"

Aizawa narrows his eyes at him a little, frowning a big harder than usual, like it's starting to dawn on him—or like Hizashi's anger is starting to get through to him and let him know that something's wrong. He just stares at Hizashi for a moment and then opens his mouth, his voice louder than before, "You said you were fine with the media having our names attached to this. You said they could drag you through the mud and you wouldn't care. You said you were alright with this."

"Don't you understand that this isn't about me—?" Hizashi breathes, his words snapped, his shocked facade starting to fade into pure frustration and anger. Aizawa hadn't mentioned a word about this to him. He was supposed to go to the police station and get a copy of the reports for their own legal proceedings. Never had Hizashi ever thought that Aizawa would willingly contact the media, let alone do this. His voice grows louder and louder and with each word, Hizashi feels more and more angry, "This isn't about me! This isn't about you, either! I don't care that the media has our names. What I care about is the fact that you just exposed everything about Shouto to the media! That kid has no privacy now. He never will again. They know everything about where he is and what happened to him—all because you released those reports. I don't care about the media knowing about me and you being involved. I care that you went ahead and released those reports without ever talking to me first or even considering that it might be bad for the media to know everything."

He falls silent. Around him, Hizashi can hear the murmur of the hospital—the footsteps of doctors and nurses, the quiet voices talking outside the small waiting room Aizawa and Hizashi are in, the whirring and beeping of machines in patients' rooms. Hizashi hardly breathes and Aizawa doesn't speak, but Hizashi can hear his own heart beating hard in his chest, barely even able to look at Aizawa. Aizawa keeps his gaze for a long moment and then slowly looks away, and Hizashi can just hope that he managed to get through to him.

"You can't do this stuff on your own," Hizashi goes on, and he feels frustrated enough that he's terrified he's going to tear up and break into angry sobs right here, right in front of Aizawa. He knows he can't, because it's not just the two of them—Shouto's down the hall and even worse, he has a visitor. They need to get back there and save this for laer. Still, he feels like he needs to say more, "You're not on your own, Shouta. There's other people involved here. We're supposed to be a team. You're not trying to figure this out on your own. Stop thinking like a lone vigilante."

"Hizashi—"

Hizashi shakes his head, even though part of him wants to hear what Aizawa's going to say to him. This isn't the time, nor is it the place, and Hizashi knows that. As much as he wants to argue and hear what his husband has to say for himself, he can't. Not now, not when their kid is in a hospital room with a friend from school. They have to act like things are okay and go back to it later.

Aizawa immediately falls silent, and Hizashi almost feels relieved. He shakes his head again, glancing outside of the waiting room and into the hallway. Three doors down on the left is Todoroki's room, and Hizashi doesn't want to leave him alone with Midoriya for long. It's not that he doesn't trust the student—it's just that Hizashi needs to be there in case Shouto gets overwhelmed.

"Not now, Shouta," Hizashi says quietly, not taking his eyes off of that room. Shouta says nothing, following Hizashi's gaze. Hizashi draws in a deep breath, forcing himself to leave this until later, "Shouto needs us. We can… talk about this later."

------

Midoriya hasn't said much and Shouto has no idea what to say, either. Aizawa and Yamada are gone, having rushed out of the room, and Shouto has no idea why or where they went, but the worry is there. All he knows is that Yamada got a phone call—from Midnight-sensei, it sounded like— and had grabbed Aizawa's hand and pulled him out without explanation, leaving Shouto alone with Midoriya.

It's a few minutes before Midoriya speaks, both of them looking at the door in shocked silence.

Midoriya's sitting at his side, in a chair, his hands folded on his lap, wide green eyes avoiding Todoroki as much as possible, glancing from the door to Todoroki's bed. Shouto keeps quiet as well, and the anxiety that he can feel rolling off of Midoriya doesn't help his own worry. Yamada and Aizawa are dealing with his care and clearly don't want Shouto to worry about things—that much is obvious—but at times like these, Shouto wonders. It had seemed so sudden and Yamada had seemed so panicked and more than anything, Shouto wants to know what's going on, even if everything else he's been handling is more than enough to overwhelm him.

"...I really am worried about you…"

Midoriya's voice snaps Shouto out from his trance and he glances back at the boy sitting beside his bed. He's in the same place Aizawa usually sits, but he looks far smaller. His head is bent and he's staring at his lap, his hands curled into fists there. Shouto swears he can see his green eyes watering, as if Midoriya is about to cry. He doesn't point it out, though, his own gaze softening a bit as he looks over his friend. Midoriya isn't one to hide his feelings—something that Shouto actually appreciates, given the way he is right now, with his head foggy and his thoughts muted and muddy.

"...When I heard about what happened—" Midoriya doesn't look up at him, continues to stare down at his lap. He shuts his eyes and Shouto wants to do something, wants to reach out and reassure him somehow, but doesn't know how to. The words don't come and his breath sticks heavy in his throat. "—I just feel like there's something I should've done. When you told me things about your father… I just never… realized that something like that happens, especially with heroes."

Shouto's never expected Midoriya to understand. In reality… he's never expected anyone to understand. Heroes are great. He knows that, and he knows that most of the population looks up to them, idolizing them and holding them on a tall pedestal. It's not really their fault. It's just the way society is. All his life, Shouto has understood that, has accepted that, and decided that there's nothing he can do about it. It's just the way things are. But now…

He's starting to learn that people do understand.

First there was Yamada and Aizawa, two pro heroes, heroes that have worked alongside his father. And now, there's Midoriya, who's clearly been told about what happened and somehow, someway, understands. The doctors here, the nurses, the therapists and social worker… all of them understand. None of them have blamed him. Shouto still blames himself, knows what happened ever since Yamada told him that he'd fought back, knows that his own words had triggered his father to violence.

Shouto glances away, his gaze resting on the clear panes of the door leading out into the rest of the hospital ward. His voice is as flat as ever, but deep inside himself, his emotions stir and a warmth fills him as his friend's understanding, "Don't worry about it. It's over now."

At least, he hopes it's over. It's left a lot of bad in its wake, with Shouto being stuck in the hospital with a brain injury that's left him unable to do normal things, his father in jail, and two of his teachers stuck here with him, but right now… things are going to change. That much, he's sure of. He's not exactly sure what's going to happen, but things are going to change, and he has an odd, foreign feeling of hope inside him that he can't shake. Maybe it was his conversation with Aizawa the other night, or his interactions with Yamada, or just his time spent with the both of them. He doesn't know, but some part of him is looking forward to getting out of here, no matter how frustrating it is to not be able to do normal things.

His eyes flicker back to Midoriya and then quickly away again when he sees that the tears from before have begun to fall, spilling down Midoriya's cheeks and rolling down his chin. Shouto tries to say more, to reassure him, but the words stick in his throat again, as if something's holding him down, and when the door to the hospital room swings open, Todoroki is more than happy that there's something else to fill the silence and distract himself from Midoriya's crying.

The glass door opens and without any doctors or nurses, Aizawa and Yamada come back in, Yamada leading the way and not looking back at Aizawa. Todoroki catches Aizawa's eyes, his own expression softening a little in relief, and he breathes a sigh. If he's learned anything from this, it's that being alone with people is hard—Shouto isn't quite sure what to say and nothing seems to want to come out of his mouth and even words are hard to think of. He knows Midoriya is upset about something, about not being able to help him, but he doesn't know how to reassure him other than telling him that it's over, that it's not happening anymore and because of that, they should move on. Part of him knows that that's not what Midoriya wants to hear, knows that that's not what he should say, so he tries to keep quiet.

Midoriya looks up as well, when Yamada and Aizawa come back in, brightening a little at the sight of them, almost as if he's just as relieved as Shouto is. There's still tears rolling down his face, but Shouto watches as Midoriya sniffles, wiping at them with the sleeve of his shirt, and smiles a wide, toothy grin.

"Is… Is everything okay?" Midoriya is the one to speak and Todoroki is more than willing to let him. He stares at the other boy, not even trying to hide the fact that he's studying him. Midoriya cries so easily… from the first day of class, Shouto had seen him as a crier. He'd cried on their first day and after that, Todoroki had just grown used to seeing his friend break out in tears. He'd decided that Midoriya was just an emotional person, someone who cried at any emotion. Todoroki didn't have a lot of experience with people, but he did have experience with his sister, Todoroki Fuyumi, who was similar to Midoriya in that she could be brought to tears easily by emotion. He's never quite understood, but at least he's been around someone who reminds him a bit of Midoriya, so it's no surprise to see him break out in tears,

Honestly, he's a bit jealous.

It's a weird thing to think, but as Todoroki sits in the hospital bed, looking at his closest friend, Izuku's tears rolling down his face, all he can think about is the fact that he hasn't cried like that in a long, long time. He'd cried when he'd woken up in the hospital, but—Shouto remembers it clearly, the feeling and the sickness that had come with it—he'd been disorientated, confused, and in pain, and the tears had been out of frustration more than anything. It makes him a bit jealous, despite everything, seeing how easily Midoriya can cry and express his emotions, and part of him wishes that it was as easy for him.

Emotions were always frowned upon for him. His father had reprimanded any crying and by the time Shouto's mother had gone away, he'd stopped almost completely. And now—now Shouto doesn't think he can cry even if he wanted to.

He glances at Aizawa-sensei, catching his dark eyes. Shouto looks at him for a long moment, and Aizawa doesn't look away, his gaze softening a bit when Shouto holds it. In front of him, Yamada answers, his voice picking up into its usual upbeat tone, and Aizawa still says nothing, hanging back from him.

"Everything's fine! Don't worry, I just had to talk to Shouta for a second, but everything's fine," Yamada is all smiles and happy words and when Shouto looks at him, he sees his bright, trademark Present Mic smile and he almost feels comforted, some of the relief seeping back into his body, but he can't help but to remember the way Yamada had pulled Aizawa out of the room, how frantic he'd looked and the way Shouto had been able to hear the panicked voice on the other end of the phone call that had caused him to pull him out. His head is foggy and with all the thoughts he's trying to make out, it's starting to hurt, pressure building behind his eyes and making him just want to stop thinking about things.

Midoriya doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn't say anything or change in the least, his smile still bright and his words fast and happy, as if he hadn't been crying just seconds before, "Oh, that's good—thanks for letting me come! I, um… guess I didn't expect you guys to be…"

He falls silent. Shouto raises an eyebrow at him, but Midoriya's looking at their two teachers, face red in embarrassment. No one else says anything or finishes his sentence for him. Yamada is looking between the two of them, wearing a gentle smile and for the first time, Shouto notices that Aizawa-sensei is putting distance between the two of them, standing at the end of Todoroki's bed, pointedly not glancing at any of them, instead seeming to watch out the glass of the door. Shouto turned his head to the side, studying the two adults in the room. Something definitely seemed off… ever since that night, the night when they'd taken him under their care and had taken him out to dinner, they seemed a little… almost inseparable. He'd thought it was weird at first, the way they talked together and seemed to always be touching each other, whether it was an arm around the waist or a hand on a shoulder, and now—there was distance between the two of them and Shouto couldn't figure out why and—

"My head hurts," Shouto cuts in, dropping his head and pressing a hand to his forehead. The ache is there, constant and fogging over his thoughts even more. His eyes burn with the bright lights in the hospital room and he closes them, rubbing at them, gritting his teeth together and trying to bear the pain that throbbed from his head.

The room is silent again, but it doesn't matter. He'd messed up, trying to do too much and being alone with Midoriya, even if it'd been for a couple minutes, had been stressful—stressful enough that Todoroki had given himself a headache that had quickly grown as he'd tried and tried to think his way through this situation, as he tried to reassure Midoriya and tried to figure out what was going on with the two who'd taken him in. It's too much and with everything else going on, it's too much for him to handle.

"Hizashi—"

It's Aizawa's voice, but he doesn't have to say anything else, because Yamada immediately interrupts, his voice picking up again as he speaks to Midoriya.

"Hey, kid, sorry but Todoroki's not feeling well. Maybe you can come back when he's feeling a little better."

"Wait—no—" Todoroki tries to protest, knotting his hands in his hair, lifting his head as much as he can. The room comes back into view, slowly fading back into focus and now, all eyes are on him. Aizawa is looking at him too now, staring at him, and Shouto can't tell if he's concerned or angry. He can't focus long enough to decide. He just knows that he doesn't want this to be his fault, doesn't want his friend to leave just because he'd made a mistake. He hadn't meant to push himself, but he can handle it. He's been in worse pain than this many times before and it's just a headache. He can handle it. He tries to find his voice, but it comes out weak, like a pathetic whimper, "—No, I'm sorry. It's okay."

He can feel the three of them looking at him and it's just making things worse. He shuts his eyes again, tries again to pull himself together, and it doesn't work. Nothing works and Shouto is stuck here, forcing his closest friend to leave because he can't handle being left alone for a few minutes.

"You're not alright," It's Aizawa speaking to him again in a low, quiet voice, and Shouto forces himself to open his eyes again, seeing that Aizawa is looking at Yamada, instead of him. He does give Shouto a glance, and Shouto sees the same expression he's been seeing on him since waking up in the hospital—it's concern, he thinks. Not anger. Aizawa's eyes are softer, dark and staring at him, narrowed slightly as he studies him, his mouth set into a thin, frowning line. It's the way he'd looked at him yesterday, too, and Shouto feels guilt sit heavy in his chest.

"I'm okay—" He tries again, but even he doesn't believe it. He knows he isn't. He knows he isn't fine, but he doesn't want Midoriya to leave. He doesn't know what, exactly, he wants, but he's stuck feeling like this is his fault. Izuku had come here to see him and Shouto doesn't want to make him leave.

He can still feel all three of them looking at him, staring at him, all the attention on him and him only. He takes a deep breath in, but it doesn't help, and his hands pull at his hair. He can handle this. He shouldn't be making such a big deal out of this. He's been in pain before, worse pain than this, and there's no reason for him to make someone leave just because he's slightly not feeling well.

It doesn't change the minds of the others in the room, though, because neither Aizawa nor Yamada give in. Both of them seem to have already made up their minds and that just makes his head hurt even more, because all he can think is that he must look pathetic enough that they feel like he's unfit to have a friend around right now. He must look weak right now, like there's nothing he can do, and that's exactly how Todoroki feels—helpless, weak, unstable and useless, and he hates every moment of it.

"Come on, Midoriya," Yamada says, his voice a bit softer, though he doesn't respond to Shouto. Shouto keeps his head down, eyes burning as he shuts them once more, and there's a long moment of silence. He doesn't have to look up to tell that Midoriya is staring at him in shock, with those wide, constantly worried eyes of his. He hates being the object of concern, the thing people are worrying about—it's bad enough with Yamada and Aizawa and all the doctors here, but now it's Midoriya and… Midoriya had mentioned the other kids in the class when he'd first come in, saying they're apparently worried, too, and Shouto can't stand the thought of everyone thinking, worrying, about him.

There's bigger problems, problems that actually need attention and help. He doesn't want others to pay attention to him—he never has. There's no reason, but he can't protest right now. His head is throbbing more and more with every passing moment, until the pain is the only thing he can feel.

He hears Midoriya get up, almost hesitantly, staying silent and not saying a word. He's only been here for less than a half hour and he's already leaving, and even though being alone with him had stressed him out, Shouto wants more time with him, wants him to stay, because thinking into the future has been especially hard and he has no idea when he'll get to see him again.

There's footsteps, Midoriya walking away from him, and Yamada's low, quiet voice again, carrying what Shouto thinks is some sort of reassuring tone, "It's alright, you can come back in the next few days… He's just not feeling well right now. I'll walk you out of the hospital. Shouta's gonna take care of him."

With that, Shouto knows there's nothing he can do about this. There's no words he can say—just like before, they won't come out, sticking and freezing in his throat, the pressure rising in his chest. There's more footsteps, but Todoroki can't look up, can't watch, and he hears Midoriya hesitate, but a few moments later, there's a swing of the door, and he knows that the two of them are gone.

The silence is short, but it's there, and Shouto finds himself wishing once more that he could cry. If he could—if he could tear up and express his emotions—maybe it'd be easier, because right now, Shouto is left sitting on his bed, having pulled his knees into his chest, his face hidden in his hands and fingers balled in his hair.

The click of the lights going off interrupts his thoughts, breaking the silence, startling Shouto enough that he peeks up, looking through his fingers. The bright shining lights of the hospital aren't there anymore, the only light in the room coming from the hallway outside, shining through the glass paneled door, and the monitors Todoroki's hooked up to.

Despite himself, Shouto breathes a sigh of relief, slowly raising his head a little more. His blurry gaze catches Aizawa-sensei's and after a moment, his eyes focus on him, still looking at him through his fingers. He's next to the door, hand still on the light switch, and Shouto wants to thank him for turning off the lights, but the words aren't coming at all. The noise has died down, the only sounds meeting Shouto's ears being occasional footsteps outside, the constant beeping of the heart monitor machine he's hooked up to, and his own breath. It's easier here, in the dark with just Aizawa-sensei, and the silence doesn't feel so crushing, so overpowering.

"Better?" Aizawa asks him, his voice quiet in the room, softer than the tone Shouto knows he uses at school. Shouto just nods slightly, still not saying anything. He relaxes a little, stops tensing up so much, and rests his head on his knees, sighing.

There's another long moment and Shouto averts his eyes.

"Sorry."

It's the only thing he can think, the only thing that will come out of his mouth. He doesn't follow it up with anything, just leaves it at that. He hopes Aizawa will understand, will tell him that he'll get another chance, but he takes Shouto by surprise again.

"Why?"

Part of Shouto really hates that question. He's been asking it himself a lot lately—why he's here, why things got so bad, why his mind is covered in a layer of fog, and the reasoning behind things just confuses him more. He doesn't know why. He feels guilty for a lot of things and it's too much to even begin to put into words.

"For…" Shouto knows he wants an answer, that he's expecting one from him, and he tries to sort out his thoughts and emotions. He'd caused a commotion, enough that Midoriya had had to leave when he'd come all this way to visit him. They hadn't gotten much time together and right now, that's the thing Shouto feels guiltiest about. "...For making everyone worry. And making Midoriya leave."

He hears footsteps, quiet on the tile floor, but Shouto doesn't look up. His legs are pulled into his chest, his cheek resting on his knees, head turned to the side. The room is dark, even the blinds pulled and only letting in streams of muted grey light. The floor reflects the glow of the monitors, the light from out in the hallway casting long shadows over his bed and the rest of the room. The footsteps grow closer and then stop, and Shouto can tell, even like this, with his head still hurting, that his teacher is beside his bed, staring at him.

"There's no reason to apologize. You didn't make anyone do anything," Aizawa tells him, his voice taking on a more solid tone, leaving no room for question. Shouto breathes out, listening to him. Aizawa always sounds so sure of himself, but he was never anything but fair, even when speaking like this. Shouto respects him a lot, respects his fairness and the sternness that never seems to cross the line into being obviously unkind. It makes him want to listen to him, to hang on to his every word. "Hizashi and I made the decision that it was time for him to leave. Visiting hours are almost up. None of us expected you to be around a visitor for very long."

Shouto raises his head a little, enough that he can look at Aizawa. In the dark, it's a bit hard to make out his face, even more so with the way his head still throbs. His heartbeat is finally slowing down from where it'd been pounding frantically in his chest. Aizawa holds his gaze, his dark eyes softer than usual, and Shouto glances down again, though he doesn't turn away.

"I hate this," Shouto murmurs, half to himself. He wants to drop the topic, but there's one thing lingering, one thing from earlier, sticking around and refusing to leave him alone— "Why did… Did something happen when you two left the room?"

There isn't even a pause.

"Hizashi and I just had to talk about something," There's no change in Aizawa-sensei's voice or the gaze he fixes Shouto with, and his nonchalance makes Shouto relax a little more. He's used to being treated like an adult, to his father putting stress and problems on him, always talking to Shouto like he needed to understand everything, even as a small child. He doesn't mind this—this vague way Aizawa-sensei is answering him—and he doesn't mind the specifics being kept from him. One thing he's learned about his homeroom teacher is that he doesn't usually do things without a reason, and Shouto thinks this is no different. If there's something Aizawa isn't telling him, then he has a reason to keep it from him, and Shouto trusts that reason.

"Don't worry about it," Aizawa goes on, tone unchanging. Shouto sighs, nods, and sits back a little, prompting Aizawa again, "How's your head?"

"It still hurts," Shouto tells him, but he shakes his head, trying to do the same thing he'd done earlier and convince him that it wasn't a problem. "It's really not that—"

"I'll get a doctor," Aizawa cuts in, voice firm. Shouto just looks up at him, realizes that Aizawa's not wanting his input, that the decision has already been made. He gives Shouto a last look and Shouto doesn't argue, only forces himself to relax and closes his eyes.

Somehow, he doesn't mind decisions being made for him right now. It's better than putting himself in pain just by thinking about things too much. Maybe he's just tired but right now—he thinks it might be okay to accept the help and let others decide things for him.

------

Yamada Hizashi: I'm going for a walk. I'll be back later. Midoriya got to the train alright.

Aizawa just stares down at his phone, listening to the nurses and doctors in the hospital buzzing around him as he stands in the hallway outside Todoroki's room. It's bright out here, and it stinks of antiseptic, a smell Aizawa has hated since the incident at the joint training simulation. In the room behind him, he knows that Shouto's doctor is treating his condition, looking into what's causing his head pain and giving him something that'll most likely put him to sleep, but Aizawa's not allowed back in until after they've talked to him, leaving him out here, staring at the text message Hizashi's sent him, reading over his words again and again.

The hallway had stunk of antiseptic earlier, too, when Hizashi had pulled him out here and down the hall, until they were in the waiting area with the television playing the same show they'd seen earlier, hosts talking about Shouto's case—and the reports Aizawa had anonymously sent to news stations, unedited and in full.

It was the right thing. Or… he'd thought it'd been the right thing.

Admittedly, Aizawa knows next to nothing about the media. He's hated media attention his entire life, and it's something that Hizashi's teased him about the entire fifteen years they've known each other. Even when he'd been in high school, he'd hated it. He can still remember all the cameras at the sports festival, all the spectators, and he remembers how much he'd hated the feeling of his every move being broadcasted. He'd always hated it. He'd been terrible at taking photos as a kid and when he'd been small, he'd had no interests in any hero-related broadcasts. He'd never wanted cameras or attention and never in his life, has Aizawa Shouta ever wanted to deal with the media.

He'd rather avoid it. Or… That's what he's thought up until now.

There's about a thousand emails and texts and missed calls on his phone. Ever since dropping the reports off in a sealed envelope, Shouta had set his phone so that he'd only get Hizashi's messages. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone else or deal with them and with putting their names out there, Shouta had had the foresight to know that people would be trying to contact him. Except—he hadn't really realized it'd be like this.

Silently, he closes Hizashi's text message. He's greeted with his messaging inbox, with a bunch of frustrated texts from Nemuri, Kan, and his other coworkers. There's some concerned ones from Yagi. There's a formal one from Nedzu. There's a few confused, worried ones from Hizashi's parents. He doesn't know what he'd been expecting, but it's not this. There's missed calls, emails from people who know him and some who don't, and everyone close to him seems either angry, concerned, or all out confused, and Aizawa isn't entirely sure why.

This is a good thing. It has to be. The media was smearing Shouto's name through the mud, trying to blame a child for the actions of an abusive father. It doesn't matter that Endeavor is—or, was—the number one hero. It doesn't matter that the nation has just lost their other number one hero. It doesn't matter that Shouto is training to be a hero. It's not okay. It's not discipline. It's not Shouto's fault. None of that matters—the only thing that matters is that a father nearly killed his son out of anger.

Aizawa doesn't understand the media. He doesn't understand why they were focusing on that, why they were blaming a child of his father's abusive actions. It didn't—still doesn't—make sense to him, and after the conversation with the detective, the solution had seemed simple. If they were misconstruing things because they only had parts of the reports, then wasn't the answer to give them the rest of the reports?

It made sense. It still does. If they had the rest of the reports, they could stop talking about it. They could stop blaming Shouto and wondering about the full story. Things would be laid to rest. He wasn't stupid—he knew that things wouldn't immediately go away. He'd never been under the impression that they would. But… He'd thought that after a few days, the media would get bored with having all the information and then start to lay off. After all, if there was no mystery, then there was nothing to investigate. A gag order would be placed when the holidays were over and everyone would be satisfied and shut up.

He's starting to see that he may have been wrong.

Aizawa glances behind him, through the glass panes of the door to Todoroki's room. Inside, there's a doctor and a nurse, both of them still talking to Shouto. He focuses on them for a moment, hesitating, before taking a few steps down the hallway, glancing behind him again. None of the three inside seem to notice him starting to walk away, and Aizawa promises himself that it'll be just for a few moments, that Shouto will be fine alone while he checks the news.

The ward has a small waiting area, just beyond the nurse's station, for parents and caregivers to occupy themselves while their kids are being treated or talked to by medical personnel. It's the same place that Hizashi had taken Aizawa to earlier, and when he arrives in the small room, it's unchanged. It's still empty, looking exactly how they'd left it earlier, almost untouched. On the screen mounted on the wall, is a different show, a news show, and even though it's muted now, Aizawa can clearly see that they're still talking about Shouto's case.

It's been nearly an hour and Aizawa knows that they haven't stopped talking about it. He'd released the records last night, and it's barely noon today. They're on this story like vultures, like there's absolutely nothing else happening in the entire world. A picture of Shouto's father is on the screen, headlines scrolling on the bottom, and Aizawa doesn't even bother to read the captioning. They're talking about this even more than before. His actions haven't made them go away at all. All he's done is given them more fuel to the fire.

They're not blaming Shouto anymore. He's succeeded in that, at least. But everything is out there now.

Hizashi's right.

Aizawa doesn't care that his name is out there. He doesn't care that people know who he is or what he did or the fact that he's taken a kid in. The media can come down on him all they want. He'll just brush them off and tell them to go away like he always has. It's the same with Hizashi. Hizashi told him earlier that he doesn't care, either. Neither of them care that their names are out there or about the information the media has on them. No, that doesn't matter.

Aizawa likes to think of himself as a rational, logical person, but he knows that when it comes to the kids, especially when they're in any sort of danger, all that goes out the window and he turns into an irrational, impulsive person. He'd truly thought that he'd been thinking this through and considering everything. With what Naomasa had told him, releasing the reports would be untraceable due to the amount of copies out there, and that people might even suspect it was one of Todoroki's relatives who didn't quite agree with the narrative of Endeavor being provoked. It had felt foolproof, like there was no way anyone would find out that he'd been the one to do it.

Hizashi had told him earlier that he wouldn't care if the media got ahold of their names. That was all he thought he'd needed. If Hizashi hadn't cared if their names got out and Aizawa didn't care, either, and it was untraceable back to them, then there was no reason to not do it.

At least, that was what he'd thought.

He hadn't taken a lot of things into consideration and now that he's seeing the media react to it, he's wondering if they'll ever shut up. He hadn't talked to Hizashi at all about it and now, even though they aren't blaming him anymore, all of Shouto's life is out in the open, every small detail from that night exposed to the media, and Aizawa's starting to realize that this was a mistake. Even if he and Hizashi were alright with it, there's no way for Shouto to be. He's a kid, a badly injured kid, and while his family has been in the media spotlight for his entire life, Aizawa doesn't think Shouto's the type of kid who wants to be in the spotlight. But now he is, because Aizawa hadn't taken into consideration the fact that his entire life would be on display—because Aizawa had acted impulsively and tried to fix something but had only made a much larger problem.

He sighs, looking away from the news program. He's tempted to turn it off, but walks out of the room instead, sending a quick text back to Hizashi.

Aizawa Shouta: Just come back whenever you're ready. I'll look after Shouto.

With that, he tucks his phone back into his pocket and walks back to Shouto's room, his pace slow and his mind nearly blank, his entire body feeling heavy with guilt. It's been a long week, and it's starting to catch up to Aizawa, making him tired. It's hard to sleep, though, being so worried all the time, and he's worried enough that for the past few nights, he's sat at Shouto's bedside until he nods off against the railings of the hospital bed. He's tired, his own chronic pain starting to lag at his limbs, but Aizawa pushes it all away, refocuses and reminds himself that there's still so much to do and he can't rest yet.

The room is still dark when he gets back to it. He catches the eyes of the doctor inside, who smiles at him and waves, and Aizawa doesn't even hesitate, pulling the heavy door open, relieved that things are alright enough that he's allowed back inside. The doctor is the same one who's been treating Shouto, and by now, Aizawa's more than a little familiar with him.

"Is everything okay?" Aizawa asks as soon as he's back inside, clearing his throat and managing to find his voice again. He glances around, his dark eyes adjusting to the dim room. There's the grey light of a cloudy, cold afternoon just barely showing behind the pulled blinds of the windows, and he remembers the coldness from when he'd been out yesterday and he hopes that Hizashi had at least gotten a coat to wear out there. The heart monitor Shouto's hooked up to has a steady beat, and Aizawa's gaze drifts to the kid in the bed.

One thing he's noticed these past few days is how small Shouto looks here.

He's really not a small kid. He's fifteen and will be sixteen soon. Aizawa knows how tall his father is, tall enough that he towers over Aizawa. Shouto himself really isn't that much shorter than Aizawa, but here, laying in this hospital bed, he looks like a much younger child. Maybe it's the way he's sitting, the way he's covered in a mound of hospital blankets and hooked up to monitors and tubes, or maybe it's the vulnerability of being in the hospital after a brain injury, but right now Shouto looks young, tired, and small.

He's sitting back against the bed, no longer curled into a ball like he had been earlier, and his mismatched eyes are looking at Aizawa, drooping with exhaustion, and he looks so tired that Aizawa almost expects him to fall asleep at any moment. Aizawa's lips twitch into a frown and the doctor gives him a smile and starts to answer, but Aizawa is paying far more attention to Todoroki.

"He'll be alright, Aizawa-kun," The doctor assures him with a calm, solid voice. Aizawa gives him a glance, but quickly looks back at Todoroki, and the doctor continues on. "Todoroki-kun just got a bit stressed out and aggravated his injury."

Shouto opens his mouth, but says nothing. It's odd, but Aizawa feels a small surge of pride. Shouto had apologized to him earlier, and he assumes that that'd been what he was about to do, but Shouto had caught himself beforehand. It's not much, but he hopes that Todoroki is beginning to learn that he doesn't have to apologize for everything and that not everything—or anything, really—is his fault.

"I see," Aizawa says, and he takes a few steps forward, until he's back at his place at Shouto's bedside. It feels oddly more natural being here than out in the hallway, and even though he's awake and making progress, Aizawa is still always hesitant to leave his room. He forces himself to look at the doctor instead of Shouto, who stays quiet, "He had a visitor today. That may have unintentionally stressed him out a little."

He looks back down at Todoroki, not liking to talk about him like this when he's right here, awake and clearly understanding what's going on. Shouto's mismatched eyes glance up at him, turning his head upwards, and then quickly flicker away, and Aizawa only hopes that he doesn't look as intimidating as he usually does.

"Are you alright?" He asks Shouto, addressing him directly. Shouto startles a little, gaze flicking back up at him and holding for a moment before Shouto leans his head back and closes his eyes.

"I'm alright," He says quietly. He stops, drags his bottom lip between his teeth, and then slowly speaks again, "Feels weird."

Aizawa turns his attention back to the doctor, looking for an explanation.

"We gave him something for the pain," The doctor offers with another smile, and Aizawa relaxes a little. He's quick to worry and be concerned, and when Todoroki had complained of pain earlier and had started acting overwhelmed, Aizawa had had to force himself to stay calm to not scare him any further. It's at least good to know that this isn't anything majorly concerning and that Shouto should feel better soon. "It has a bit of a sedative in it. He should be falling asleep soon and will sleep off most of his headache. Someone will evaluate him tonight to make sure he doesn't have any lasting effects from the stress."

"Thank you," Aizawa tells him genuinely, nodding formally. The doctor takes that as his cue to leave and with a few more short words, well wishes to Shouto and a goodbye for the night, he steps back out, leaving Aizawa alone with Shouto.

Finally, Aizawa sits down, breathing a sigh and for a short moment, he drops his head into his hands. He hears rustling, knows it's Shouto turning to look at him, but he stays silent, closing his eyes and running his fingers through his long hair.

Hizashi's somewhere. He's not sure where. Out on a walk, he'd said. He's coming back. Aizawa knows he will. It's not like they haven't had miscommunications or small problems before, but this feels larger, and Aizawa's weighing heavy with a lot of guilt and regret at not realizing that he should've talked to Hizashi about this.

He doesn't exactly regret his actions. He regrets not talking them through. Maybe it wasn't best to release the full reports. If he'd talked to Hizashi, they would've come up with a better plan, something else they could've done or a way to censor the reports so that Todoroki's entire life wouldn't be exposed for the world to see.

"Sensei—Aizawa…" Shouto quickly corrects himself and Aizawa looks up, trying to set everything else aside and focus on what's in front of him right now. Shouto fixes him with a mismatched stare, looking concerned even through his tiredness. "...Is everything alright?"

One thing he knows, though, is that he doesn't want to drag Shouto into this.

It concerns him, yes, but the fact of the matter is that Shouto has a lot of things to worry about right now and with everything still messy and confusing and not resolved, Aizawa knows it'll only stress him out more. He doesn't want Shouto to worry about him and Hizashi. He doesn't want him to worry about the media or the reports. He just wants him to worry about recovery and getting better.

He and Hizashi are a team. Aizawa's not acting alone in this. Shouto needs to see them only as a team and the last thing Aizawa wants is for him to be involved in any trouble between them.

It'll work out. Aizawa knows he messed up, that there's a long and hard talk coming up ahead, but he knows that he's not in danger of permanently losing Hizashi. He's part of a team and Aizawa knows now that he has to act like it, that he needs to stop thinking like a lone vigilante.

"Everything's fine," He reassures Shouto, quickly looking to change the topic. "You should get some rest—Should I read to you to put you to sleep?"

------

Aizawa waits, but Hizashi doesn't come back until the light behind the blinds fades out into darkness and night falls outside. He isn't completely out of contact, occasionally sending short texts to Aizawa, and Aizawa doesn't try to make him come back until he's ready. Shouto falls asleep quickly and eventually, without much to do other than think about things, Aizawa nods off too, sitting at Shouto's bedside and resting his head against the bed rail. He isn't sure how long he stays asleep, but he's eventually woken up by the opening and closing of the room's door, and he drowsily raises his head to see Hizashi coming back.

Hizashi doesn't ignore him. Instead, he fixes him with a stare and sighs quietly, his voice hushed in order to not wake Todoroki, "Shouta, you should really sleep in the sleeping bag if you're tired."

Aizawa yawns, trying to shake the last bits of sleep from his head. He glances to the side, where his yellow sleeping bag is folded up in the corner. The hospital has been offering them accomodations, just so that they have an actual bed to sleep in, but neither of them have wanted to leave the room and Aizawa in particular has wanted to try to stay awake in case of any changes.

He shakes his head again, his voice giving away his exhaustion, "I'm alright. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Hizashi continues to stare at him, but looks away after a moment and moves to take his coat off and set his things down. Aizawa watches him carefully, his eyes following his every movement. There's a lot that he wants to say—a lot that he needs to say—but he wants to wait until Hizashi's ready to hear it. He doesn't want to force it, especially if Hizashi is still trying to process everything that's happened today.

"Well, you should still get some rest. You haven't really been sleeping since we got here," Hizashi tells him, turned away from him and not looking at him. Aizawa just frowns, the refusal ready on his lips, but he doesn't say anything, just watching Hizashi. He doesn't turn to Aizawa, as if he's not expecting an answer, and Aizawa glances back at Shouto to find him fast asleep still.

His sleeping bag lays in the corner of the hospital room, under a window and looking tempting with its plush yellow fabric and the extra pillow laying near the top of it. He draws a slow breath in and without letting himself think more about it, he gets up from his place next to Todoroki's bed, stretching out his tired limbs, and wordlessly steps over to the sleeping bag, hearing Hizashi stop putting his things down, feeling his eyes on him. Aizawa sits carefully, lowering himself into his sleeping bag, pulling the front up over himself and trying to keep quiet as he laid down properly for the first time since coming here.

Up until now, he's just been dozing in the chair next to Shouto's bed, leaving the sleeping bag and more comfortable chairs for Hizashi, but he's right—about this and everything else. Aizawa's tired and hasn't properly slept since the snowy night they'd taken Shouto out with them. He hasn't been letting himself feel his exhaustion, always pushing it away and forcing it down and away, as if that would make it truly go away, but now, in the silence of the room with tension surrounding them, he finally lets it in. He's tired, hurting, and stressed, and Aizawa has barely been taking care of himself at all.

He doesn't close his eyes just yet, instead looks up at Hizashi, finding him staring at him, in the middle of folding the coat he'd taken off, neither of them moving. Aizawa lays on the floor, the plush cushioning of his sleeping bag providing him the comfort he hasn't let himself feel since coming here, looking up at Hizashi and waiting, trying to see if he'd say something. He isn't going to push, because right now, it doesn't seem like Hizashi wants to talk about earlier, but he wants something, something to know that he didn't completely mess things up for good.

Logically, he knows he didn't. He knows they'll be alright, eventually, but like this, he's vulnerable and it's now that logic and rationality isn't enough and Aizawa starts to feel the anxiety seeping in that he doesn't normally allow himself to think about.

"...You're actually going to sleep?" Hizashi asks him, his voice a little louder than before, a little more curious and less guarded.

"I'm tired," Aizawa answers simply, tucking his face in so that the cover of the sleeping bag hides most of his expression, but he keeps his eyes open and focused on Hizashi. His body starts to unwind, starts to relax, and Hizashi's look softens at him, until Aizawa can almost pretend like earlier hadn't happened at all.

"You should be. You haven't really slept in a few days," Hizashi glances away from him, finishes folding his jacket and sets it down, before sitting down in the chair that's right next to where Aizawa has his head. He looks down at Aizawa and Aizawa moves so he can tilt his head up and see him a little better. In the darkness, he sees Hizashi's lips twitch up and swears he can see a slight, small smile on his face, "You kinda look like a cat, all curled up in there."

Aizawa snorts, amused, and tries to hide the small smile that threatens to break onto his face. He lets his eyes fall shut, more of the stress working its way out of his body and from beside him, he hears Hizashi sigh quietly.

"Get some sleep. I'll look after Shouto."

Aizawa doesn't look back up at him, just does what he's told. He's warm and for the first time in what feels like months, he's comfortable. Hizashi will look after Shouto. Aizawa trusts him—has to trust him—and Hizashi's right. Aizawa needs sleep, needs rest, and he'd been in a state of constant vigilance and worry ever since that snowy night, without even being able to get a night's worth of sleep. He trusts Hizashi, trusts him to keep Shouto safe and protected.

"We'll talk in the morning…" Aizawa murmurs it into the pillow under his head and it comes out partially as a question and partially as a statement. He doesn't want to decide anything without Hizashi, doesn't want to force him into talking. He's asking permission, asking if it's alright.

Hizashi doesn't even hesitate and Aizawa hears him shift in his chair, feels his soft fingers reach down and gently brush through his bushy hair, "Yeah."

------

Morning comes and when Aizawa wakes up to the bright grey light of a just-risen winter sun streaming through the blinds on the hospital window, he isn't sure what time it is. He knows it's early and from the uneven breathing and the turning of pages next to him, he knows that Hizashi had done exactly what he'd said and stayed up through the night to watch over Shouto.

For a while, he just stares at the light streaming through the window, counting each of his own breaths as he lays, still curled up in his sleeping bag, the warmth of sleep having not quite left him yet. He feels more well-rested than he has in a week, more clear headed and more like he can properly think. He doesn't think, though, as he lays there, only listening to Hizashi reading next to him and the constant stream of steady beeping from Shouto's heart monitor.

Eventually—maybe even in the next week—they'll be able to take Shouto home. Aizawa will get to sleep in his own bed again, spend time with his cats, and their family will have grown.

They've always wanted a kid, or even kids, but with everything that's happened this year… they'd ended up putting that lower on their list of priorities, shelving that conversation for once things have calmed down. They'd agreed on adopting, on taking in a kid in need, and it's been something they've both always wanted. It'd always been in their plans to have a family and now—though it's unexpected, they're getting that. Even with everything that he did yesterday and the apologies he has to give to Hizashi, and later to Shouto, Aizawa lets himself think a little about the future.

They've had kids in the house in the past, usually just for one or two days and never for longer than a week, whether they were kids who'd needed a short term place after they'd taken down a villain or one of Hizashi's relatives. This is permanent, though. Shouto is going to become their kid. Aizawa knows it isn't going to be easy, knows that Shouto still has a lot of recovery to do and that it's going to be a hard adjustment period for him, but eventually, things will fall into normalcy and all he wants is to give Shouto a better chance at a good family. They may be unconventional, but Aizawa knows they'll be good parents, and he's willing to do everything for this kid.

Minutes pass and eventually, Aizawa looks up, seeing Hizashi sitting right where he'd left him last night, reading a book and wide awake, not even seeming to notice that Aizawa's up. For a little while, he just stares at him, careful not to make too much noise, watching as Hizashi reads. His green eyes move back and forth over the page, deft fingers occasionally running over the cover of his book. His hair is tucked behind his ears, enough that Shouta can see the hearing aids he's wearing. While Hizashi drops his Present Mic persona at home, it's nice to see him like this, even more private and like himself, alone and not putting on a show for anyone.

Aizawa sits up after a while of watching him, the rustling from his sleeping bag catching Hizashi's attention as he glances up, green eyes finding Aizawa, and silently bookmarks his page, putting the book down and focusing his attention on him. Aizawa takes his time, though, not quite crawling out of the sleeping bag, stretching his arms above his head and sitting against the wall, still wrapped up in the sleeping bag from the waist down. Hizashi waits and Aizawa isn't in a rush, and he takes the time to work out his words, to decide what he needs to say to him.

There's a lot of things he can say. There's a lot of words running through his head right now. Aizawa lowers his eyes, glances out into the rest of the room, where Shouto is still sound asleep, the heart monitor still beeping at a constant, steady rate.

"I'm sorry."

It's what he decides on; it's what feels best.

He doesn't look at Hizashi as he says it, but his eyes flicker back to him as soon as the silence fills the air once more. All of Hizashi's attention, all of his focus, is on him, and Aizawa draws in another breath, opens his mouth to say more. He doesn't immediately, and Hizashi doesn't speak in his place, waiting until Aizawa manages to find his words once more.

"I'm sorry for releasing everything to the press," Aizawa says, quieter, staring Hizashi in the eyes from where he sits on the floor, still halfway inside his sleeping bag. He shakes his head a little, sighing, "I'm sorry for not talking to you about it first. I obviously… really shouldn't have done that alone. I shouldn't have acted alone at all."

Hizashi continues staring at him for a long moment, and then lets out a breath, tipping his head back and resting it against the wall his chair is pushed up against. He nods, slowly, his own voice just as quiet as Shouta's, "I was mad last night, but now… I can't say I would've said no had you talked to me about it. I would've at least suggested that we release a few parts of the reports. Maybe not all of it, but… Just, please talk to me, Shouta."

Aizawa nods in response, some of the weight lifting from him. It feels better now, even though he's only just apologized.

"We can't really change it now," Hizashi goes on, opening his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "It's done. We just have to deal with it now, right?"

"That sounds like the only option," Aizawa agrees. He looks at Shouto again, still sound asleep. He doesn't know. Shouto has no idea. "I realize that I'm not working alone with this. I promise not to make decisions without you anymore. Clearly, this was the wrong one. Or, at least, it wasn't the best option."

Aizawa has one thing that makes him impulsive and irrational. Whenever someone he cares about is in any sort of danger, he's quick to jump to whatever will fix it, not thinking about whether or not that's actually the best choice in the given situation. It's always been that way, but with everything that's happened, it's been more prevalent this year. It's why he'd jumped to releasing all the reports, why he'd almost killed Shouto's father. He likes to think of himself as a rational person, but when it comes to people he loves being in danger, it's almost like everything else just goes out the window.

He needs to stop and now, Aizawa knows that. He's prone to thinking like a vigilante, like he has to do everything alone all the time, like he's the only one handling things. With Hizashi here, he's not, though. They're a family, and Aizawa knows now that they have to make decisions together all the time, because releasing the full reports obviously wasn't the way to do things and now Shouto's life and everything that happened that night is out there for the world to see.

"Thanks, Shouta," Hizashi turns his head, looks at him again. His expression is soft, and he purses his lips for a moment, as if thinking about something. Part of Aizawa knows what he's going to say, because it's the thing that he's been thinking about for the past day too. Hizashi does say it, his voice quiet but surrounding every corner of the room. "What now? Where should we go from here…? We—we have to deal with this now, but how—?"

What now?

He's been asking himself the same thing.

"Whatever we do, we have to do together," Hizashi muses, and Aizawa nods once more in agreement. "I know you're the one who released the reports, but—"

"But we're a team," Aizawa finishes for him. Hizashi makes an agreeable noise and then, the two of them are both quiet. Aizawa's eyes drift back to Shouto, the beeping from his heart monitor breaking the silence. If he listens close enough, he can hear Shouto's breathing, rhythmic and constant. Soon, he'll wake up and today, he'll be in for another round of therapy with the doctors and occupational therapists. He'll have to deal with what happened to him, have to work more on getting back to his regular self. Right now, Aizawa knows he can't handle the media, and he doesn't want to have to expose him to that yet.

Aizawa's not dense—he's aware that they'll eventually have to talk to Shouto about it. Right now though, Aizawa just wants him to focus on therapy, his emotions and trying to get well again. There's no reason to add on unnecessary stress.

"We can't tell Shouto yet," Aizawa decides, not taking his gaze off of the sleeping boy. "He'll stress himself out too much. We'll have to continue keeping him away from media attention for a little longer."

"I don't know how much longer we can keep him away from everything, but you're right," Hizashi tells him, and Aizawa glances beside him, finding that Hizashi is looking at Shouto, too. "The media are like vultures, and they have a lot more to be curious about now. If any of them get into the hospital, there's not much we can do. They're just going to keep pushing and pushing."

Aizawa doesn't know a lot about the media, but he knows that Hizashi is right about that. They are like vultures, and while Aizawa has given them a lot more to feed off of, there's still a lot of questions about Shouto's current state and what's happening with him that are unanswered. That, coupled with Endeavor's nearing move to prison, is only going to make them want more.

They'd wanted more before, too, when they'd only had bits and pieces. One of the reasons that the media had taken Endeavor's side was because Endeavor's associates had been actively speaking out, giving interviews and press conferences, and that had swayed the media to their side. The media are vultures, but at least with what Aizawa's seeing, at least in this case, they can be easily swayed.

"...What about a press conference?"

Hizashi turns to look at him, fixes Aizawa with a confused look. He's silent, completely silent, and for a few moments, it's just the two of them in the world, staring at each other. He can't blame him—it's not like Aizawa to suggest anything having to do with the media, but if the media has more questions about everything now, then maybe, just maybe, if they answer some of them and go public for a bit, they'll move on. If they can make it clear that things are over now, then there's a chance that they might back off and leave them alone, a chance that they'll stop hunting for more information and news.

Eventually, the discussions about the other things that happened will fade out, as well. Unrelated news will pop up. New events will happen. If they make it clear that nothing else new will happen and close the questions they do have, then once the other discussions dry up, they might just move on.

"A press conference?" Hizashi repeats, voice full of disbelief.

"Yeah," Aizawa affirms, giving another small sigh. He isn't even sure if this is a good idea, but that's what Hizashi's here for, as he's learned, "That's what Endeavor's contacts did. They were able to sway the media enough to be on their side. If we do a press conference and let the media ask us questions and tell them that everything's over and done with now, they might leave us alone more. It might be giving in to what they want, but maybe a little of that is alright."

Hizashi stays quiet. Aizawa swears that it looks like he's thinking about it, considering it, like there's a chance Aizawa might actually be right in his assessment of the media's attitudes.

"That's sort of what I did at the press conference after the summer camp, isn't it?" Aizawa's thinking out loud a little, reminded of the time he's stood in front of a camera and talked about the kidnapping of one of his students. It'd been difficult then, but at least it had made the media stop obsessing over it and who to blame to some extent. "It worked then… the media left UA alone for a bit. You know way more about the media than I do—is there any chance that would work?"

He waits for Hizashi's answer, wait as he slowly nods and draws a breath in, "I—I think there's a way that could work. There's a chance that it could make them more curious, but… there's also a chance that it could work the way you think it will. It—that might actually be the best option here."

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, turns his head to the side in curiosity at Hizashi. He doesn't think that Hizashi is just telling him what he wants to hear—he looks sincere, if a bit nervous, and he meets Aizawa's eyes. Aizawa takes another moment, still surprised that Hizashi thinks his idea might actually work, "Really? Aren't there better options than going in front of the press…?"

Hizashi just shakes his head, "Right now, our only other option is to keep doing what we have been and ignore it. And that… well, you say how rabid the media got a couple days ago. They're gonna get that way again, with all the new questions they have. If we don't give in and answer a little, that media storm from before is just going to start up again."

"That's what I thought—" Aizawa says quietly, thinking back to a couple days ago, the way the press had been like vicious animals even at Endeavor's associates' press conference. He doesn't want to have to deal with that again, and he's certain that the hospital doesn't, either. Hizashi knows the media far better than he does, and if they're on the same page with this, it might be the best option. He's trying to think things through, to not be impulsive, the residual guilt from before still sticking around and heavy in his chest. "—If you think this is a good idea, is there a way we can set it up? Shouto might get suspicious if both of us left, so it might be best to do it when he's with the doctors."

Neither of them speak for a long beat, Aizawa instead focusing on Shouto's constant, even breathing. The sun has risen more, the light streaming in through the windows brighter, less grey and much stronger. Aizawa glances out the window, the light bathing the room in bright yellows. He hears Hizashi draw in a slow breath, and focuses back on him, instead.

"It won't be hard to set up," Hizashi comments, green eyes staring at Aizawa, and Aizawa's just relieved that things are better, that he's doing better and not messing things up all over again. "The press are already all over us. It won't be hard to just… respond to some of them and call a press conference. Is that what you want to do? Go in front of all those cameras and talk?"

"If you think it's a good idea, then yes. That's what I want to do." He knows what Hizashi means—Aizawa has spent his entire career doing everything he can to avoid the press. He hates them. It's something that not a lot of others know, something just shared between them, but Aizawa's honestly afraid of them. He's seen the way they act, the way they'll hang onto any information and use it to help take down people. All Aizawa's ever wanted was control over his own self, his own life, and if the press knows about him, watches him, then he's in probable danger of completely losing all the control over his life that he's built up.

But—he's willing to face them if it means helping out those he cares about. His students, his coworkers, his new family, Shouto.

And right now, this might be the only way to get some control over this situation. Apparently, Hizashi thinks so too, and if they're in agreement about it, then Aizawa wants to do it.

Hizashi just nods once more, silently, and then looks back at Shouto, his voice strangely quiet in the hospital room.

"I'll set things up, then."