Chapter Two

He isn't sure what wakes him up this time. It could be the constant noise from the machines at his bedside again. It could be the unnatural light streaming in from the viewing windows in the room. It could be the quiet breathing that isn't his. It could be the throbbing of his head and the rest of his body. He's not sure, but when he blinks his eyes open, the hospital room is mostly dark around him, save for the light from the hallway outside, and when he turns his head slightly to the window, the first thing he sees is that the sky outside is pitch black without a star in sight, and he guesses that it's somewhere in the middle of the night, given the darkness and the lack of activity.

The second thing Todoroki notices is that he's not alone.

There's not a moment where he thinks he is, just like there's not a moment of confusion as to where he is. He knows, theoretically, that he's not alone, because he can hear breathing that isn't his and there's the occasional activity outside his room in the hallway. But he notices that he's really not alone, because there's an unmistakeable mop of black hair resting on the metal rails on the hospital bed.

His vision adjusts to the dark, and he can see that not much has changed. He's still in the same hospital room. The lights are just off now, and it's quieter than before. It's hard to take his eyes off of the one thing that has changed, though, and that's the fact that Aizawa-sensei is sitting beside his bed in a chair that wasn't there before, a stack of papers on his lap, and he's fast asleep with his head leaning on the rails of Todoroki's bed.

It's both a little shocking and intriguing. It's not that he's never seen Aizawa sleep before—everyone in the class has. One thing that he knows is that Aizawa is a tired person. He always has bags under his eyes and even with Todoroki's foggy memory, it's not hard to remember multiple instances of him dozing off in class or after class. He's just never seen him this deeply asleep. He looks different, somehow. Peaceful. He's never really seen his teacher with his guard down—not until now.

Aizawa can't be comfortable like that. There's no way. He's asleep sitting up, looking like he'd been reading or doing paperwork—he can't tell—and just leaned his head against the bedrails and fallen asleep. The chair he's in is shoved between the bed and the constantly beeping machine, and Todoroki can lean forward just a bit to see his teacher's face. Aizawa's eyes are closed, dark bangs hanging in his face, his mouth slightly open as he breathes evenly. He looks relaxed like this, and for a few moments, Todoroki just stares at him.

It doesn't take long for his eyes to wander down slightly, to the burn that barely reaches to his jawline, and without the scarf that Aizawa usually has around his neck, Shouto can see the severity of it and the way it covers a good portion of his neck before disappearing down the collar of his shirt and behind long hair. Guilt hits him again, the wave of it washing over him, and he has to bite back another apology.

He wants to sit back and try to sleep more, but he can't bring himself to do so. He looks over the rest of the room, and in any other case, the sight of his English teacher asleep in the corner of the room in an unmistakable bright yellow sleeping bag would be amusing, but it just makes his guilt that much more visceral. He feels bad that they're here, and he feels even worse that he's putting them through this, even though he isn't completely sure whatever this all is.

He remembers exactly where he is—though things are fuzzy, he can recall everything from earlier. He knows why he's here. And he knows that Aizawa and Yamada are the ones who are the reason he's even alive. He can still hear the words from the police report, and he can still feel the ringing realization that Aizawa and Yamada are hurt because of him.

He can't stop staring at that burn on Aizawa's neck. Even in the dim lighting of the hospital room, the burn stands out, the reddened, damaged skin contrasting to his teacher's pale skin tone and dark hair. It makes it even harder to look away.

There's a lot of confusion still. There's a lot of things he doesn't understand. More than anything else, he wants out of here. He wants out of this room and out of this hospital, because he feels worthless and helpless just lying here, unable to think or remember things or even perform the most basic functions correctly. He doesn't need to be here—there's other people that need this bed more than him, and other people who need the doctors' attention more than he does. He's here because he screwed up. This is his fault, and he wants to take responsibility for that.

Still, though, the confusion lingers. Something isn't adding up.

He goes over the facts again.

He spent the last night he remembers with Aizawa and Yamada. His father had never shown up to take him home. His teachers had taken him with them. The time he'd spent with them had been... since he was trying to be objective—positive. They'd returned him home. Aizawa had argued with his father, resulting in his father slamming the door on him.

Things start getting fuzzy from there. He'd gone to his room. He doesn't remember what he'd done in his room. He remembers being angry and frustrated. His father had come in at some point. Shouto had talked back to him. He'd been angry and so had his father, though his father was trying to be nice and make conversation with him. There was that question—Enji had asked who Shouto's favorite teacher was—and he'd answered wrong. That was all. There was nothing else.

He'd woken up here, in this hospital room stinking of antiseptic, barely able to voice his thoughts or clear the fog in his head, with his two teachers by his side.

Something isn't right.

It had never been this bad. He's been in the hospital before, usually just for burns or deep wounds, but never anything life threatening.

He knows who put him here, and he knows partially why this happened, but there's a missing piece he can't place—and that's why it got this bad.

"Sensei—"

He tries to keep his voice quiet in the dark room. He only half realizes that he's speaking, and he sort of wants to take it back after he says it. He doesn't know if waking Aizawa is a good idea. Contrary to what the other kids seem to think, Todoroki is starting to learn that while Aizawa's notoriously strict, he's not a grump and he's not at all mean. He's just… a little straightforward. Which is something that Todoroki actually appreciates. Still, he's wary about waking Aizawa, partially because according to the doctor earlier, Aizawa hasn't willingly left his side and he looks exhausted, but—

As selfish as it is, Todoroki doesn't want to be alone right now.

He knows he's not actually alone, but the silence is deafening and the darkness is creeping in on him with every passing second. With the room so quiet, all that Todoroki hears are his foggy, incomplete thoughts, and he wants to drown them out with something.

"Aizawa—" Not attaching a honorific to his name feels wrong, because he has a lot of respect for Aizawa and it feels inherently wrong to not show that, but he remembers back in the dorms, with Aizawa telling him he didn't have to be so formal with him. That feels like it was years away, with everything else that happened on that day.

With that, Aizawa starts to stir. He'd tried to be quiet about it so he wouldn't wake Yamada, sleeping in the corner, and it's just enough to get his homeroom teacher to start to wake up. His breathing hitches and he gives a small groan as he raises his head from the metal rails of Todoroki's bed, bringing a hand up to rub at where he'd been resting it. He watches, his heart beating fast and the beeping from the machine speeding up, until Aizawa finally opens his dark eyes and his expression softens when he sees Shouto.

"I must have fallen asleep again."

Todoroki just stares. He really doesn't know what to say to that. Part of him wants to say that it's fine, that he doesn't mind, but he doesn't know if it's an apology and he doesn't know why it would be.

"Sorry for waking you?" He tries.

"Don't be. I didn't mean to fall asleep," Aizawa gives a yawn and rubs at his eyes. It feels a little out of place, as if this is a side of his teacher that he shouldn't be seeing. Aizawa looks different here, different than he is in class, though he's fundamentally still the same person. Aizawa looks at him again, and despite the soft expression, Todoroki wants to sink back under his gaze, "How long have you been up?"

"I… don't know…?" He doesn't like this question. He's going to get it wrong. "I can't really tell."

It almost feels a little wrong being this close to him. He remembers feeling this way that night, too, like he didn't deserve the kindness his teachers were giving to him, and it's the same now. Aizawa and Yamada have a home and a life together. They shouldn't be here in some hospital room with him.

Aizawa doesn't look surprised by his answer. He doesn't react at all, and Todoroki breathes a sigh of relief that his reaction to Todoroki not even being able to guess at the amount of time he's been awake wasn't immediate anger.

"That's to be expected. Don't worry about it. Thanks for waking me up."

There's no sarcasm or dryness in his voice, and it takes Shouto a long moment to understand that he's genuinely being thanked.

He doesn't know how to respond, so he just says the first thing that comes to his head.

"Brain injury…?"

He feels immediately stupid afterwards. It's a question, but even he doesn't know what he's asking. He wants information, but he can't pinpoint what information he wants or how to ask for it, so instead he just parrots the words he'd heard from the detective earlier.

There's still no surprise on Aizawa's face. He yawns again, taking a moment to respond, but he doesn't look angry.

"You have a traumatic brain injury, yes," He says, as if he's talking about anything else in the world. "I suppose you heard a bit from the detectives. You were put through surgery here to clear up the bleeding in your head. You're going to be kept here so you can regain cognitive ability and so you can be monitored."

"Cognitive ability," Todoroki parrots, not knowing what those words mean in relation to everything else. Theoretically, he knows, but there's too much fog for him to grab hold of what it is. "I don't—"

"There's a lot of things you can't do right now that you normally can," There's something in his voice, something that Todoroki had heard earlier—softness…? That doesn't fit, either. He's not used to it, and he's not at all used to the concern that makes its way into Aizawa's voice enough for him to recognize it. "It's typical with the type of injury. The therapy isn't all that bad. It's tedious, but you'll regain most, if not all function."

That starts more questions than it answers. Todoroki tries desperately to grab onto one of them and form it into words.

"How do you—?" It doesn't come out as a full sentence, but Aizawa seems to think that it's good enough, because he doesn't prompt for more when Todoroki shuts himself up and stares at him, heart beating fast and nerves almost as strung out as they'd been earlier.

"Apart from discussing your care with your doctors for the past four days?" It's near impossible to ignore the way Aizawa's lips twitch upwards into the small smirk he sometimes wears. "Getting your head slammed into concrete tends to give a person a brain injury, however minor."

He knows immediately what Aizawa is referring to.

"The training simulation? I didn't know."

"I'm not one to discuss my personal life with students. You know that."

Todoroki hesitates, but says it anyways, "I'm a student."

There's a pause. Aizawa stares at him for a long moment. He still looks tired, with his near-black eyes and the dark bags under them. Todoroki glances at the scar on his cheek, recalling the situation he'd gotten it in. He'd never really viewed what had happened at the training simulation with anything other than a clinical mindset, but now—now he feels guilty for never even feeling anything about it. What's wrong with him—? This guy, the guy sitting next to him, looking like he's about to fall asleep again, sacrificed himself for kids that he'd barely met. And now, Shouto realizes, that he did a similar thing for him alone.

Aizawa glances away from him, and Todoroki follows his gaze to the lump of yellow sleeping bag and sprawled out blonde hair in the corner. He's checking on Yamada, he realizes. Making sure he's okay. And he's sitting at Todoroki's bedside because—

Because he's concerned for him.

Aizawa-sensei's eyes linger on Yamada for a long moment before he turns back to Todoroki.

"If I thought of you as just my student, I would've just found a foster family for you," Aizawa says with a sigh, as if it's nothing, as if he's not talking about this, about taking Todoroki in. He brushes his long bangs from his face, and Todoroki hears him shuffling the papers on his lap before sitting back. "I wouldn't have petitioned for custody of you."

There's a pause. Aizawa glanced at Yamada again, and then back at him, staring Todoroki in the eyes as he says his next words.

"And I probably wouldn't have tried to kill your father."

All the air leaves him, and Shouto's voice is strangled.

"Do you really want—" The real question is 'do you really want me?'. But Todoroki can't let himself ask that. "—me to come home with you? Both of you?"

He doesn't really know if anyone's ever really wanted him. His father wanted his power. His family wanted his future career. He's always been an asset, and for most of his life, he's been aware of that. His mother wanted him, he thinks, but he even doubts that sometimes. It's more of a hope, a wanting to believe his mother wanted him than anything concrete. He didn't ask to be brought into this world, and he feels like he doesn't belong, like he might only be here for other people. The idea that someone may want him, for whatever reason, is foreign, and Todoroki can't even give enough voice to ask it, terrified of either answer he'd get.

"I don't say things I don't mean. Not in situations like this," Aizawa's voice is low and serious, and Shouto forces himself to focus and listen to everything he says to him. "Hizashi and I want to take you in. It's been cleared by the school already. The adoption process is fairly easy in this situation and it wouldn't take much from you. It's your choice. There's no right or wrong answer. It's what you want."

He's a little reminded of what Aizawa had told him outside on that snowy night, when Yamada had hung back at the restaurant. Aizawa-sensei has never talked much about himself and until that day, Todoroki had known next to nothing about him. His background had come as a shock—Aizawa had become the hero he was to gain control over his life, control that he hadn't had because of a home situation, and it had worked. Shouto's being given control now, and he goes over other words that were said to him that night, words he's hung onto with every fiber of his being, even though he doesn't want to admit it.

Everybody has regret, Aizawa had told him. But he'd made a mistake, and he'd told Todoroki not to make the same one.

He thinks about living a life full of regret. A life of regret for making the wrong choice. Not the choice that had been fundamentally wrong, but the choice that he hadn't actually wanted. And he doesn't want to do that. He wants to make the choice he wants.

Commitment feels so…permanent. But he supposes that both choices are permanent. Maybe it's better to make the one that he actually wants.

"What's living with you like?"

His voice is barely more than a whisper. He's terrified of waking Yamada up and having him hear this conversation. Yamada is a friendly guy and he'd had some good things to say to him on that night, but having him overhear this somehow feels like it'd be setting it in stone. Maybe talking to Aizawa is easier, even if Aizawa is known for being notoriously strict. He's seeing a softer side of him, a side that simultaneously makes Todoroki feel completely out of place and safe at the same time.

Aizawa doesn't even hesitate in answering, "Good, I hope. We've taken in a couple kids short-term before. I've decided to try to come home as much as possible, instead of staying at the dorms. With your condition, you're definitely going to live at home with us for awhile, and then you can either go back to the dorms or continue living at home. Regardless, you'll be home for the breaks. You're obviously safe with us, so there's no need for you to live at the dorms if you don't want to."

He doesn't mind the dorms, but he'd be lying if he said that he's never fantasized about maybe having a normal family. He doesn't know if this will necessarily constitute a normal family, given that he'll be living with two married men who are also his teachers and pro heroes, but if it's anything like it was the night before all this happened, maybe he has some sort of a chance at normalcy.

He can't deny that he'd fallen into something he hadn't thought about in a long time that night. He doesn't know exactly what it'd done to him, but he'd let his guard down, and despite himself and the cold exterior he tried to keep around himself, he'd slipped and let himself feel like he was part of something normal.

He doesn't think he wants to go back to the dorms at all. He likes his classmates, but he has plenty of chances to see them otherwise. This might be the only chance he has at experiencing something normal.

"...I'll stay."

Aizawa raises an eyebrow at him, "You're allowed to change your mind about that. It's not a contract, Shouto."

He swears his heart stops the moment he hears his given name.

There was a reason he'd chosen that as his hero name. No one calls him that. It was the first thing his father had given to him, and his name defined his entire being. He was constantly seen as his father's son, and near everyone called him by his family name, always reminding him that he was just a tool made to surpass someone else and nothing more. He'd chosen his given name as his hero name in an attempt to take it away from his father. His father is the only one who calls him that regularly, and now—part of him isn't even sure that he heard Aizawa right.

It sounds different coming from him.

"I don't think I will," He doesn't comment on it, because he doesn't want to draw attention to it. Drawing attention to it feels like discouraging it.

Aizawa gives him a long look, but, to Shouto's relief, he moves on, "We live close to the school. There's plenty of room in the house for you. We have a security system that I monitor, so you don't have to worry about your family in the case that someone comes after you. We have two cats—I assume you're not allergic?"

Todoroki shakes his head.

"Uh, I like them."

The entire class is aware of Aizawa's fondness of cats, so it doesn't surprise him that he has two of them, but Todoroki's never had pets himself. It'd never been feasible in his household. Living with Aizawa and Yamada sounds… different. Different, but there's a part of him, a part that he pushes far, far down, that's excited that this is even a possibility.

"Good. The cats are pretty well behaved," He hears Aizawa tapping his fingers on the papers on his lap. "All that I expect of you is that you generally keep your space clean and try to listen to what Hizashi and I say. I've worked with kids your age for years now and I'm well aware that there's going to be times when you're going to be disrespectful and there's going to be times when you don't want to listen to us. That's fine, it's to be expected. All that I ask is that you generally try and if there's an emergency, that you do what I tell you to without asking questions."

Todoroki stays quiet. It sounds easy, and he's a little wary of how utterly easy it sounds. He has a lot of respect for Aizawa and Yamada, and everything they've said to him so far has been nothing but helpful. He trusts what Aizawa tells him to do, and maybe that's why he'd trusted him enough to make the call that he did.

He doesn't remember making it. But he does remember Aizawa making a promise to him that he'd come if called, and Todoroki had listened to him.

In reality, Aizawa hasn't let him down, and Aizawa has never treated him like anything less than a person. He's respected his teacher for months, but he's definitely taken to his homeroom teacher a lot more since Aizawa had first been alone with him at the dorms, after Shouto had been waiting outside with his father. He appreciates his straightforwardness, and the way Aizawa is fairly blunt about everything, and undeniably, Aizawa treats him like a person, like a teenager, and Todoroki is not used to that at all, but it's not unwelcome in the least.

"I can do that."

"I don't doubt that you can."

Todoroki glances away. The world feels small, even in this unfamiliar place. Since he woke Aizawa up, it's been closing in around him, until Todoroki's nerves are finally calmed and he feels safe. It's unfamiliar here and there's still a million questions in his head, none of them fully forming into thoughts, and the fog sits heavy over him, but he almost feels like it's alright, if just for now.

Yamada is still fast asleep in the corner. Their quiet conversation hasn't stirred him.

Not much has changed about the rest of the room since earlier today. Todoroki is still hooked up to machines, and he has no idea what any of them are for. There's a steady rhythm from the one beside him. His body still hurts, his head throbbing and his eyes heavy with tiredness. The pain is dulled out, he decides, but by what, he doesn't quite know.

Outside the room, the hospital hallway is lit up. There's closed doors with closed blinds across from him and frequently, a doctor or nurse will walk by, holding some chart in their hands or pushing a cart. He's not alone here, and it's a constant reminder that he's in a hospital and not somewhere safe and sound.

"In return, I can promise you that I'll be home as much as possible," Aizawa's voice draws his attention back, and Todoroki hangs onto his words. "I've been working too much. I haven't made time for important things in my personal life, and I'm both making myself and others suffer because of that. I'll be letting other teachers handle a lot of the responsibilities I've put on myself. You deserve to have an actual family, and I'll make as much of an effort as possible to give you that."

He has no idea how Aizawa can say these things so casually, like it's nothing. It is something. It's everything to him. He didn't expect anything of either Aizawa or Yamada, but this—this gives him some sort of hope for something that he'd thought he'd buried a long time ago.

"Okay," It's nothing more than a whisper and he doesn't say anything more, but he doesn't have to.

"You've made up your mind?"

"I think so."

There's no further questioning. Aizawa doesn't prompt him for what he means. Instead, he gives Todoroki a smile, a different smile from the one he's used to seeing from him in class, this one feeling more private and genuine.

"I'll start the process, then. Don't worry about the legal side of things; I'll take care of it."

Todoroki nods and finally, he leans his head back again. He's tired, and this conversation has exhausted him, and he feels little better going back to sleep now that Aizawa's awake. Aizawa doesn't comment on Todoroki laying down again and instead, he hears the flipping of pages and Aizawa writing things down. It's easy to slip off into sleep again, knowing that there's someone here for him.

He wakes up again before morning and drowsily opens his eyes to find Aizawa asleep with his head against the rails of the hospital bed again. He doesn't wake him up this time, and falls back asleep.

------

"This is the most idiotic thing I've ever seen."

And yet, Aizawa can't look away from it.

For the first time in five days, at Hizashi's prodding, Aizawa has finally showered and changed out of his bloody clothes. Convincing him hadn't been hard once Hizashi had brought up the fact that they were going to a different part of the hospital to meet with the rest of Todoroki's treatment team and that it probably wouldn't look the best if Aizawa showed up in the same bloody clothes he'd come here with. So he'd showered, changed, and let Hizashi brush his hair. He even tried to look nice, throwing on a sweater and sport coat Hizashi had brought for him.

The meeting hasn't even started yet. Hizashi and Aizawa are in the waiting room. Aizawa's standing underneath a mounted television screen, staring up at the program playing on it, unable to look away.

He glances back at Hizashi for a moment, scowling still, "Do they think this is some sort of reality show? Why are they talking about it like this?"

He doesn't understand the media. He's never understood the media. It's something he's done everything he can to avoid his entire career. And now, he doesn't understand why this is happening.

On the screen he turns back to is a talk show. It's not even a news show. A talk show, with five people laughing and discussing things and taking audience opinions. The topic of the day—the topic of the last five days—is Endeavor's arrest, the allegations of child abuse, and the fate of the two currently anonymous UA teachers who'd stepped in.

"I just don't know whose side to take," The voices from the television fill the room. One of the hosts is talking, an older man who looks as though he belongs in Endeavor's demographic. "I don't know anything about pro heroes. I agree that this may have been a routine training exercise that went a little too far. Both sides are at fault here, no? What's a parent supposed to do when a child—a child training to also become a violent hero—fights and attacks? I don't really think there's a right answer here, and I don't think we can stand to lose our number one hero again."

"Shouta—"

Aizawa doesn't look away.

A female host takes over, "No, I agree. None of us truly knows what happened, and it seems a little suspicious that the police are keeping it so wrapped up. I mean, they've already stated that there's footage of the accident, but they're not releasing it, and that just seems suspicious to me. No one from that side has come forward. You know what I'd like? I'd really like to hear the perspective of the teachers who took it upon themselves to put another hero in critical condition. I can't believe UA hasn't even released a statement on them. Shouldn't at least a little disciplinary action be taken?"

The other hosts murmur amongst themselves and nod. Another speaks up, "I'm still of the opinion that they need to be dismissed from their teaching jobs. What kind of example does this set for the students they teach at—"

The screen falls into an instance of static before fading out to black, and Aizawa is left staring at his own reflection. He looks somewhere between dumbfounded and pissed, and he certainly feels both of those things.

"It's not good to watch that shit," There's an arm around his waist and a voice in his ear. Aizawa can't bring himself to be angry with Hizashi for turning off the program.

"You know about the media. Why is this happening?"

He can't understand. He sees it clear-cut. There's absolutely no reason for anyone to hurt a child, let alone to the extent that Todoroki Shouto was hurt. There's no justification for what happened. The police are silent because there's an ongoing investigation. Aizawa and Hizashi haven't been dismissed from teaching because they'd been protecting a student against harm. Even Aizawa's 'excessive force' has been legally justified. There's no way for either of them to get in trouble, and they've been explicitly told that there's absolutely no plans to dismiss them and that the school actually supports their decision.

The media has been told that Todoroki Enji is under arrest for child abuse, neglect, and endangerment charges, as well as attempted murder. Somehow, they've twisted it to their own narrative, and somehow, Shouto is being blamed.

Shouto, who is only a child.

He may be in hero school and he may be mature, but that does not make him an adult. He's a child. He still acts like a child. He's a child who, like all other children, puts his trust in the adults around him. He's a child, and Endeavor is an adult and now former pro-hero. There is no justification, whatsoever, for what had happened, and Aizawa almost can't believe what he's hearing.

He would've thought it was satire if it wasn't for the fact that for the past five days, 'debates' about this topic have been going on where people have said the same thing over and over. His email inbox is full of this shit. Every major website and news source is still talking about it. People are swarming other UA staff in an attempt to get information. For some reason, people can't leave this to the professionals and are doing everything they can to get information on the kid that's still in the hospital with a severe brain injury. It's disgusting and somehow, Aizawa hates the media now more than he ever has before.

"Shouta, I—I don't know," Hizashi tells him, and he sounds uncertain and he thinks he can pick up a bit of anxiety in his voice. "Endeavor's associates are telling everyone that Shouto started a fight with his father and… they must've seen the footage. I mean, we did, too, but… They're using it to their own narrative since the footage is never gonna be public."

"I know," Aizawa still stares up at the blank television screen. "I've seen the press conferences. The media is believing every word they say. Because we haven't said anything."

They both know it's true. Hizashi hasn't spoken to the media and neither has he. There's more pressing matters. Hizashi has gone home a couple times to pick things up and he'll occasionally leave to pick up food if they're tired of the hospital's cafeteria food, but besides that, he's been in the hospital this entire time. Aizawa hasn't left Todoroki's side unless he's forced to until now, and even now, the reason he'd so easily agreed to leave the ward had been because the doctors were running tests on the kid. There's more important matters than the media, but Aizawa can't sit here and watch a child be blamed for his father nearly killing him.

He has seen the footage. Aizawa and Hizashi have an already in place rapport with the detectives and Aizawa had asked to see part of the video from Endeavor's security camera, and the relevant clip of the phone call placed to him had been handed over. He'd seen part of what had happened, and had copies of the reports detailing everything else that had gone on in the footage. Those were the reports that hadn't been read to Todoroki, since they mostly just contained details of the hours of violence and multiple intense outbursts, and showing them to him hadn't been something Aizawa wanted to allow just yet.

He knows that if those idiots on the talk show had seen the footage, seen the state of the Todoroki house, or even read a little bit of the reports, they wouldn't even consider defending Endeavor. They don't know the full scale of what's happened. There's an investigation going on, and most things are under wraps and orders to not be released.

"What are you thinking?" Hizashi asks him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Aizawa meets his eyes, and breathes out slowly, "I don't know."

He doesn't know what to do. He knows that he has to do something. He's just not sure what at this point.

Finally, a door opens, drawing both their attention, and a nurse pops her head out from the door leading out of the waiting room and into the therapeutic ward. She glances down at her clipboard, and then grins up at them, "Aizawa and Yamada?"

Hizashi returns her bright smile when Aizawa can't, "Yes, that's us."

"The treatment team is ready to meet with you now."

------

The meeting goes fairly well. Hizashi listens intently and asks questions while Aizawa takes notes. Todoroki's social worker coos over them a little, calling them attentive and responsible parents, and Hizashi even finds it in himself to laugh at the thin blush that spreads across Aizawa's usually stoic face when his meticulously detailed note-taking is called out, even if the social worker uses it as reason why they're responsible. By the end of the meeting, Hizashi knows the treatment team well and is confident in their abilities, and Aizawa fills up a good five pages of notes on what they've talked about.

The entire team seems to like them a lot, and they agree without prompting from Aizawa or Hizashi that they'll help them petition for full custody over Todoroki. Both Aizawa and Hizashi were already aware of it, but they warn them that it's going to be a hard week or two for Todoroki. The kid has lost a lot of cognitive ability, from the tests they ran on him this morning, and while he can get it back, it's going to take a lot of physical therapy. Given the testing, Todoroki is having trouble with anything that includes a level of higher thinking or fine motor skills, including basic tasks. It's nothing they didn't expect, but Hizashi appreciates them being honest with them.

He's pretty happy with the way it goes. Even Aizawa is acting about as friendly as he can, despite what had happened outside in the waiting room. They leave with a treatment plan in place, and they make the long walk back to the ward Todoroki is on together.

"I don't think he's going to like this," Aizawa tells him as they make their way to the stairwell up to the third floor. Hizashi's leading, since Aizawa has next to no idea how to navigate the hospital. This is a specifically pediatric hospital, so neither one of them have ever been treated here, and Hizashi only knows the way because he's left the hospital a couple times and can read the signs better than Aizawa can.

Hizashi gives him a smile as they start to climb the stairs together, "Yeah? You complained about therapy, too, when you had to go through it. Maybe you two are more alike than we thought."

He can only hope Aizawa means the therapy and not the media.

Aizawa hadn't answered him yesterday about when they're going to tell Todoroki about the media. He doesn't blame him. He doesn't want to tell him, either. He wants to make the best decisions for the kid, given that they're the authority figures he has right now. The last thing Todoroki needs right now is to know that he's being blamed for what's happened to him, especially since the kid is no doubt stressed. All Hizashi wants is to somehow prevent putting even more stress on him, because having to go through intensive occupational and physical therapy is already bad enough.

Aizawa doesn't answer him right away. They climb the stairs, Hizashi keeping his eyes on Aizawa, and Aizawa looking straight ahead with dark, perpetually tired eyes, his bag with his notes hanging off his arm. He can tell something's up, because he's been with Aizawa for twelve years now and while Aizawa doesn't talk much, he can tell when there's something on his mind.

"Shouta…?"

Aizawa doesn't talk much, but words mean a lot to Hizashi.

Aizawa doesn't argue. He stops on the landing between one staircase and the other, and Hizashi stops, too. It's dim in here, with the only light coming from the window in the stairwell, where Hizashi can see snow falling in the grey morning light. It blankets the hospital grounds, covering everything Hizashi can see out the window, even the hospital's parking lot. The lot is fairly empty, as is the street the hospital is on, and Hizashi is reminded that it's Christmas day and most people have the day off and are at home. He hadn't even realized it, and it's enough to bring a more genuine smile to his face.

The plan had originally been to spend the holidays at home, relaxing with Aizawa and helping run the fundraisers from the radio station. His parents had planned to come out, and Hizashi had expected to have to sit through the usual strained, painful phone call with Aizawa's mother that would eventually end up with either Hizashi or Aizawa hanging up on her. He'd expected it to be a quiet break, maybe spent trying to convince Aizawa that he needed to not push himself so hard. Things change, though, and Hizashi is more than willing to accept change when it comes his way.

The hospital's been quiet all day. Even now, Hizashi and Aizawa are the only people in the stairwell, and they hadn't passed anyone but nurses and doctors on the way here. Hizashi waits for Aizawa to say something, keeping his eyes on him as Aizawa stares out the window at the snow covered grounds of the hospital's campus. He's slouched over slightly, his hair covering most of his face, and the only thing Hizashi hears in the dim stairwell is Aizawa's quiet breathing.

Hizashi doesn't push him. He's learned not to after over fifteen years of knowing him. If he doesn't push, Aizawa talks, and right now is no exception to that rule.

"I talked to Todoroki last night when you slept," Aizawa's voice is softer than usual, and he raises his head to look at Hizashi, meeting his eyes. Hizashi doesn't say anything when Aizawa pauses, listening to him breathe in before saying his next words, "He agreed to let us take him in. I started on the adoption paperwork last night."

There's a beat of silence between them, and then Hizashi's reaction kicks in.

He suddenly feels heavy and warm, and there's pressure behind his face that wasn't there before. Hizashi doesn't hesitate anymore. He closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Aizawa's body, pulling himself into him. He buries his head into Aizawa's shoulder, pressing his face against his neck, and Hizashi lets himself go.

He feels Aizawa's hands clutch at his shoulders, his grip crushing as Hizashi feels the first tears in days run down his own face, soaking into the fabric of Aizawa's jacket. Aizawa goes limp against him, just like he always does when he gets emotional, and Hizashi is quick to tighten his hold on him to support him.

"Shouta—" He whispers, his voice breaking as he pushes his face deeper into Aizawa's shoulder, not wanting the world to see him break. "We're gonna be parents."

"I know," He can feel Aizawa's scruff against his still-bandaged neck, and his voice sounds shaky. There's no doubt that Aizawa is trying to hide his own emotions from others' eyes, just like he always does. Hizashi gets to see him—gets to experience him like this—and that's all that matters, though.

He thinks he hears a sniffle, but he's not completely sure. But he doesn't miss the way Aizawa shakes slightly in his arms.

"I want this," Aizawa says, words nothing more than a whisper.

"I know," Hizashi repeats Aizawa's earlier words back to him. "I do, too."

Even with the tears streaming down his face, Hizashi smiles into Aizawa's jacket.

He's always wanted his own family. He knows Aizawa has, too, especially in the last few years. A family was put on the back burner, though, with their stressful jobs, especially with the way Aizawa's been stressed out this year. Hizashi comes from a big family, though, and he's always wanted kids. Aizawa, on the other hand, comes from a place where his family hadn't even been a family, and he thinks Aizawa's always wanted a chance at being better than his parents. Aizawa has a very strong parental instinct, from what Hizashi's seen, and he has no doubt that Aizawa will be a great father. He's already partially a parent for his homeroom class, or at least takes on quite a parental role with them, and Hizashi knows for a fact that every kid in that class looks up to him in some way or another. And with Todoroki—

Hizashi grew up in a family with a lot of foster kids. He knows attachment when he sees it, and Todoroki has most definitely taken to Aizawa in particular. He can't blame him—Aizawa's a great guy, and Hizashi's pretty attached to him, too, if their marriage is anything to go by. He knows Todoroki will warm up to him eventually, too, and he has a lot of time to do it, but for now, he's more than happy that Todoroki has Aizawa to attach onto.

They're more similar than Hizashi had originally thought, the two of them. Aizawa can and has connected with Todoroki on a level only he can.

"I want to make things better for him," Aizawa murmurs into him. Hizashi knows a little too well what this is. Aizawa is never obvious about his self-doubts but after so many years together, Hizashi has learned to pick up on it. It's to be expected, given Aizawa's own upbringing. They've had a few kids over the past couple years, but only temporarily and for a week at the most. It makes sense that Aizawa is nervous about anything long-term, and to tell the truth, some anxiety sits heavy in Hizashi's chest, as well.

"Hey, you're not in this alone," Hizashi squeezes his arms around Aizawa in an attempt to remind him that they're a pair. "I'm here, too, remember? We'll be fine."

Hizashi pulls away from him, just enough that he can look into Aizawa's eyes. They look a little redder than usual and so does his pale skin, and Hizashi almost thinks he can feel a little wetness on his shoulder, but he doesn't say anything about it. He's still got tears running down his own face, hot and cathartic, and he watches as the corners of Aizawa's lips twitch upwards into a smile at the state Hizashi's in.

"So emotional," He comments, and Hizashi's grin widens. His grip on Hizashi's shoulders softens and he reaches out and wipes the sleeve of his jacket against Hizashi's face where a bunch of his tears have collected.

"You're gonna ruin your jacket," Hizashi tries to pout at Aizawa, but the news of finally becoming a parent has him grinning too much to manage it. "I've always been a bit of a crier, haven't I?"

"It makes me a bit jealous," Aizawa breathes a sigh, though the slight smile stays on his face. "Seems like a good way to release emotions."

Hizashi doesn't comment on the fact that he's pretty sure Aizawa had shed a few tears just a moment ago. He knows that it's notoriously hard for Aizawa to cry, both because of his upbringing and because of his chronic dry eye. He's a little impressed that Aizawa was even able to tear up just now. He's only seen him cry a couple times in over fifteen years of knowing him, and that's counting when Aizawa cried at their wedding.

Instead, Hizashi leans in a presses a short kiss against Aizawa's lips, and Aizawa holds him there for a moment before pulling away, resting his forehead against Hizashi's.

"This should all go smoothly," Aizawa closes his eyes as he speaks to Hizashi. Part of him knows what he's going to say next, and his words come as no surprise. "The only thing against us here is the media."

"We'll figure something out. We'll talk to the others about it," Hizashi assures him, whispering again in the small space between them. "Getting advice is a good thing, Shouta."

"I suppose so," There's a pause, and then Aizawa pulls away from him and Hizashi immediately misses his warmth against him. Aizawa gives him a nod towards the stairs, "We should probably get back."

Hizashi murmurs his agreement, but takes Aizawa's hand, intertwining their fingers together, as they navigate the rest of the way back to Todoroki's room.

------

Todoroki's lead doctor meets them back at his room, and Aizawa is honestly mildly surprised that he's working today. Todoroki isn't back yet, and the doctor meets them at the door to the room with a smile. Aizawa's tired and falling asleep on Hizashi's shoulder for a short nap seems ideal, and he sort of just wants to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible, especially since it doesn't seem very important, given that he's the only one here.

"Minami-sensei," Aizawa greets, doing what he can to sound about as polite as he can manage. A little of his usual annoyance seeps into his voice, though, and he rubs the back of his neck, glancing away from the familiar doctor as he waits for an answer. His private talk with Hizashi in the stairwell has exhausted him emotionally, and he really just wants to lay down in his sleeping bag in the corner of the room. After all, he'd slept in the chair beside Todoroki's bed last night and even then, he hadn't slept a lot, much less gotten restful sleep.

"It's good to see that you finally changed your clothes, Aizawa-san," The doctor smiles at him and he hears Hizashi give a snort of amusement at his words. It really just annoys him; this guy is Shouto's doctor and there's no logical reason he should be concerning himself with Aizawa's state, even if Aizawa is pushing himself. He just frowns, and the doctor seems to get his point, glancing down at the chart in his hands. "Todoroki's doing fine, physically, but I wanted to warn you two that he's a little… frustrated with his current state."

"That's to be expected," Aizawa murmurs. There'd been no doubt in his mind that Todoroki was going to be frustrated with his injury, and he'd never thought that the kid was going to be happy about finding out that quite a bit of therapy is going to be required to get him back to his usual level of functioning. Aizawa has patience and so does Hizashi, but patience is a hard thing for an injured person to have and Aizawa know for a fact that it can be hard to be patient with the loss of seemingly simple abilities.

"Is there an estimate on when we could take him home?" Hizashi asks from beside him, his hand curling over Aizawa's again in what he's sure is a reminder to be as civil as he can. Hizashi's always had better people skills than him and Aizawa is more than happy to let him take the lead on this.

The doctor pauses, looking over the chart in his hands before answering, "It's hard to say. At this point, Todoroki-san is having trouble even reading. Best case scenario is maybe a week or so, but I wouldn't count on that. As I'm sure you've been told, there's going to be a lot of therapy he's going to have to do even when he's at home."

"We're just coming from a meeting about that," Aizawa tells him, giving him a hard stare. "Is something wrong, Sensei?"

The doctor hasn't told them anything new. Minami is Todoroki's head doctor, the person they've been talking to for the past five days. While Aizawa's had his own frustrations with him, he does trust this guy, and it's a little out of place for him to be simply reminding them of things they already know. They're not his patient—they don't need to be checked up on and they don't need to be reminded of things over and over again, and Aizawa's a little suspicious of why the doctor has met them here.

Minami glances away from him, looking almost nervous. Aizawa knows the expression well—he looks almost exactly like students do when they have something they don't want to tell him. It's almost amusing; Aizawa hadn't thought he'd had this effect on anyone except his students.

"You remember Todoroki's surgeon, right? Sagan? Sagan-sensei has been… contacted by the media a few times in regards to our patient."

Aizawa recognizes the name immediately. The surgeon he's referring to is the neurosurgeon who performed surgery on Todoroki in the first day of being here.

"Shit," It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it, and both the doctor and Hizashi stare at him. It brings all the anger and frustration back, and Aizawa feels like he's listening to those people on the television program talk about the 'accident' again.

Now the media is edging closer to them.

He has no idea why or how they found out about Todoroki's surgeon. But if they know who one of the doctors on his team are, that means they most likely know what hospital he's at, and really, it's only a matter of time.

He hates this. He's despised the media his entire life, but never more than now. He doesn't understand it at all. This isn't some reality show. This isn't something to have debates over. It wasn't an 'accident' and there's not 'two sides' to this story. A child was nearly murdered by his father. Even if that's all they know, the media knows that, and that should be more than enough.

But, for some reason, it isn't, and they're butting into places where they don't belong. And now they're starting to find things out that they shouldn't.

"Thank you, Sensei," Hizashi tries to cover for him. Aizawa says nothing, keeping quiet, mouth twitching downwards into a frown despite his attempts to keep a neutral expression.

This isn't fair.

Life isn't fair. Aizawa is thirty-one years old and he sees the world for what it is for the most part. He knows that life isn't fair. But this is something else entirely. This is something evil, something terrible, something completely avoidable that should not be happening.

The doctor nods and wishes them farewell as he walks away, but Aizawa is hardly paying attention anymore as he leaves them alone outside of Todoroki's room. Aizawa stares after him, far away from here, going back over and over again to the words he'd heard not even an hour before. He doesn't understand at all—how can the media be blaming a child? Anything Todoroki did was in self defense, and Todoroki Enji is twice the kid's size. Shouto wasn't 'fighting back', nor did he 'start a fight' like those insufferable people on that talk show were insinuating. There's no excuse, and he doesn't understand why the media is trying to forcibly make up an excuse to justify the abuse and near murder of a teenager.

He knows their reasoning, but he still doesn't understand. There's a lot of reasons, and they're all idiotic. Not knowing the full story is easily fixable by the fact that what they do know is that Endeavor is being charged with child abuse and attempted murder. When that's taken away, all people are left with are selfish reasons—not wanting to believe a hero could've done this, not wanting to lose their number one hero again, not wanting to face the fact that Endeavor is a horrible, violent type of person who beat his kid nearly to death because he was jealous.

That thought is painful, even if Aizawa doesn't want to admit it. He's seen the footage—most of it by now. Endeavor is an idiot on most counts and had set up security cameras all over his house, resulting in the police having nearly a full scope of exactly what happened. He saw the beginning of it, too. He knows why this started, and it was because of a loaded question with no right answer and an innocuous response that had meant no harm.

He closes his eyes, and it's so easy to remember the grin behind the frustration after Shouto had been giving him uninterested, one-word answers.

"Who's your favorite teacher, Shouto?"

The question had made sense. He'd been trying to prod his son for answers about school. It made sense for Shouto to think that his father had wanted an answer about school. It'd been a trick question, a ruse, an excuse for Endeavor to use to lose his composure.

"Shouta."

He's drawn out of his thoughts by Hizashi, who nods pointedly at his bag, where Aizawa registers the noise of his phone loudly vibrating. His movements are almost robotic as he takes the bag from his shoulder and draws his phone from the pocket where he'd tucked it during the meeting. It's not until he sees the name on the screen that it actually registers that someone's calling him.

"...Nemuri?" He glances at Hizashi and raises an eyebrow. Nemuri is the one who's supposed to be looking after things for him. He's tasked her to keep up with the kids and to be around when they start coming back from their break, since Aizawa has made a promise to himself, Hizashi, and Todoroki that he's going to focus on his family life more rather than killing himself with work.

Hizashi gives him a quick shrug and points to the empty hospital room. Aizawa gives a nod in agreement before accepting the call, Hizashi holding the glass door open for him and shutting it behind them as they both duck into the room. It's exactly as they left it, even with Aizawa's sleeping bag strewn in the corner near the window. The only difference is that the sheets on the hospital bed have been changed and Todoroki is nowhere in sight.

"Midnight?" He doesn't bother with a greeting and refers to Nemuri professionally, despite their long, friendly history together. Nemuri is, after all, most likely calling him in a professional context, and there's a distinct, heavy worry that sits in Aizawa's stomach that something's happened.

"Shouta-kun, I—" She sounds more irritated than anything and in the background, loud and clear, Aizawa can hear another voice, and he instantly knows that nothing's happened.

"Sensei, please let me talk to him!"

Aizawa lets out a groan.

Of course.

Nobody's in trouble. Nothing's happened. Rather, someone very persistent has apparently discovered the way to contact his friend. That voice is almost more recognizable than anything else, if only because Aizawa has learned to associate it with being persistently begged to do something that he knew he shouldn't allow. He kind of just wants to hang up on the spot, since he has a lot of other things to worry about, but he knows that doing so wouldn't make the problem actually go away. He knows what Midoriya most likely wants, as much as he hates to admit it, he sort of understands.

"Tell him no. It's not happening," He also knows that this isn't going to work, but he at least gives immediate refusal a shot. In reality, Midoriya is one of the most almost stupidly persistent kids he's ever taught. While persistence can be a good thing in hero work, Midoriya definitely has a little too much of it, and it's resulted in a situation where when he gets something in his head, the kid will not leave it alone until he gets something at least close to what he wants. He's a bit of a problem child, since Aizawa can tell him no all he wants, but unless he takes measures to physically stop something, he knows that Midoriya will somehow find a way.

"I've tried, Shouta," Nemuri isn't even trying to put on an air of professionalism. He doesn't know if Izuku has just worn her down that much or if she doesn't see any point in it. He assumes it's the former, given how exasperated and irritated she sounds. Her words only confirm his suspicions, "Look, I didn't even want to call you. You said you were focusing on family stuff right now. I get that. Just… talk to the kid so he can go home and I can get some actual work done."

By now, Hizashi has sat down in his usual spot, staring at Aizawa with his own phone in his hands. Aizawa stops, meeting his eyes, having not even been aware than he'd been pacing the floor. Hizashi raises an eyebrow at him and Aizawa just shakes his head. It's another thing to deal with, and while he knows Midoriya is just concerned for his friend and most likely wants to see him, he also knows that the kid doesn't understand the situation.

"Fine," He sighs, conceding, if only for the fact that he's well aware Midoriya will just cause more trouble if he doesn't give in a little now. The kid will find another way, irritate more people into contacting Aizawa, and this will happen eventually. It's best to try to set him straight now. "Let me talk to him."

"Thank god; he's been on me all morning," He hears Nemuri say before there's the unmistakable sound of her handing the phone to Midoriya.

There's not even a pause, and Aizawa has to hold the phone away from him slightly at the barrage of loud, excited, and worried words. He's loud enough to even rival Hizashi on the phone, and he's loud enough that Hizashi can hear him from across the room with his bad hearing, because he gives Aizawa a knowing look and a sympathetic smile.

"Aizawa-Sensei—! You know where Todoroki is, right? Is he alright? Is he with his family? What happened to him? Sensei, I'm really worried about him and you—you have to know who he's with, right? And if he's okay?" There's a pause, as if Midoiya is catching his breath, and then another onslaught of talking. Aizawa lets him go on, figuring that eventually, the kid has to stop babbling and waiting for that is a lot easier than waiting for an opening or interrupting him. "I mean—everyone else I talked to doesn't know anything. I tried calling the other students and coming here, but nobody knows anything and you—you have to, right? Weren't you keeping track of all of us over the break? So you have to know who he's with…"

Finally, Midoriya trails off. Aizawa doesn't answer immediately, willing to let the kid be a little nervous waiting for a reply. He glances at Hizashi, the other man still watching Aizawa, and Hizashi catches his eyes and makes a few quick signs to him.

"It's probably okay to tell him," Hizashi signs to him. Aizawa nods. That's what he'd been planning. Midoriya is probably the least likely to tell the media anything, and he's genuinely just concerned for his friend. Aizawa doesn't get too involved in the personal relationships between students, preferring to instead let them work out conflicts between themselves, but he does notice things, and he knows pretty well that Midoriya was one of the first friends Todoroki made.

Aizawa gives Hizashi a nod in agreement and he can practically hear Midoriya's anxiety on the other end of the phone, like the kid is buzzing with it. He can't really bring himself to be angry with him, since even though Midoriya is irritatingly persistent, it's born out of a place of concern for his friend and that's something that despite himself, Aizawa can sympathize with.

After all, he'd been just as persistent with drilling it into Todoroki's head that he'd be there for him if he called him.

"Todoroki is fine," He says simply, turning away from Hizashi so he can set his bag down on the chair he'd spent the previous night in. He's tempted to just leave it at that, but a big part of him assumes that Midoriya definitely won't be happy with that. He pauses, and then decides that Midoriya can know something. Even if he spreads it around the class, either intentionally or by accident, he doubts that he'll say anything to the media. As for the rest of the class… Aizawa has never been the best at judging social situations, but he knows kids pretty well, and he knows for a fact that his class is too tight-knit and that they're all smart enough to realize that leaking anything to the media is a bad idea for every single person involved.

Aizawa takes a breath, "He's with me. He's fine."

Midoriya doesn't even hesitate. His reaction is immediate, and the kid on the other end of the phone sounds absolutely dumbfounded, "What—? With you? That's… Um, I know he's safe with you, it's just—uh, surprising? Is he just with you, or—is his family around too…?"

He really should've expected this. Midoriya is nosy. It might be unintentional right now, but he's definitely a nosy kid.

"He's with me and my family," Aizawa flips through the notes he'd taken during the meeting, skimming them over again, wanting to close this conversation up so he can look through everything again and take his mind off of the media storm happening in the world outside of the hospital.

Midoriya's surprise feels near deafening, and Aizawa has to hold his phone away from his ear again to even properly understand him, "You have a family—?!"

There's a snort of laughter from Hizashi, and Aizawa shoots him a hard glare.

"I have a life outside of work, you know," He tells him sharply, pausing in flipping through his notes. There's a choked noise on the other line and Hizashi laughs again. Aizawa just hopes that Midoriya doesn't recognize Hizashi in the background. "Todoroki will be fine."

He half expects it. He's expected it since he'd let Nemuri put Midoriya on the phone. He hadn't really expected it to come out as a half-shouted flurry of anxious, running together words.

"Can I visit him? Please, Sensei, I—"

Aizawa sighs, though it comes out as more of a groan. This is more information than he'd wanted to give. He likes to keep his private life separate from work, like he'd told Todoroki the previous night, and he doesn't talk about himself much to students. That undeniably makes them curious, but Aizawa would rather have it that way than the kids getting curious about him and his home life. His reasoning of simply wanting control over who knows what is more than enough for him to keep the two part of his life separate.

Midoriya's starting to tread into territory that Aizawa doesn't like at all.

There's still the fact that he's just concerned for his friend, though, and that's enough to get Aizawa to break one of his personal rules. Todoroki is part of his person life now and he hadn't wanted to tell anyone much about his condition out of respect for Todoroki's own privacy, but—Midoriya honestly sounds distraught, and he's clearly distraught enough to brave his anxiety and try to talk to Aizawa on the phone.

"Todoroki's still in the hospital. He doesn't have a discharge date right now."

"Oh—Oh no, that sounds… serious…" Midoriya's voice momentarily drops off in concern, but he hardly misses a beat. "Wait—can I visit him in the hospital? Surely he's not, uh, contagious or anything, right?"

There it is. The question Aizawa has been half expecting since agreeing to talk to Midoriya.

"That's probably not a possibility."

"Sensei, please—" Midoriya cries out, voice growing in volume again. Aizawa glances at Hizashi, who's leaning forward, clearly paying attention to Aizawa's conversation. Aizawa opens his mouth to respond, to try to end the conversation so he can review everything from the meeting, but Midoriya beats him to it, "You don't understand. Todoroki's my friend and I—I know something really bad happened to him and I just want to see him. Please, Sensei."

It's times like these that Aizawa wishes that he didn't have emotions or empathy, and times like these where he wishes that he wasn't so attached to these kids. Because he can't outright say no, not when Midoriya is begging him on the other end of the phone to come see his best friend.

He waits. He waits a long time, hearing Midoriya whimper on the other end, as if he's close to tears. It's not hard to figure out that the kid probably feel guilty to some extent, and he can't blame him, not when Aizawa does, too.

"I'll ask him," He finally says, casting another glance at Hizashi, getting a small smile of acceptance from him. He clears his throat, forcing his voice back to his normal authoritative, strict tone, "It's Todoroki's choice. If he says no, then that's the end of it. No arguing from you, got it?"

"Yes!" Aizawa holds the phone away from his ear again at the triumphant yell, Midoriya's voice going from emotional begging to what can only be described as a cheer within seconds. "Yes, thank you, Sensei. Thank you so much."

"Hey, he hasn't said yes yet," Aizawa tries, frowning. Midoriya is notoriously optimistic. Optimistic and persistent. He reminds Aizawa a lot of Yagi. "Don't get your hopes up."

Still, though, Midoriya's tone is full of excitement, "Yes, sir!"

Aizawa lets out a sigh, and wonders if he'd made a mistake.

------

Todoroki has never felt this frustrated in his entire life.

He's back in his hospital room now, but things are different. Aizawa and Yamada are just outside, and Shouto can see them through the clear glass windows next to the door. One of the specialists that had been working with them is talking to them, and Todoroki knows exactly what they're talking about. Yamada in particular keeps casting glances at Todoroki, and Shouto looks away each and every time, unable to meet his eyes out of pure shame.

He pulls his knees into his chest, still wearing the stupid, flimsy hospital gown. He pulls the blankets around him so that his skin isn't uncovered, and stares at what he assumes to be the heartrate monitor. It's beeping faster now, and Shouto assumes it's his anxiety and the disappointment he feels at himself, creating a hole in his chest and stomach and drowning everything else possible out. It hurts, and he wishes he wasn't here. He could be at home now, or back at the dorms, if he hadn't made the mistake of answering wrong to his father.

—Or at Yamada and Aizawa's house, if he hadn't made the mistake of telling them that he wanted to go back home that night.

It comes as no surprise when the door to the room opens again, and Shouto raises his head, not quite looking at the two teachers who came in. No doctors or specialists follow them, and Todoroki is left alone with Aizawa and Yamada.

"You heard," He says quietly, staring at the wall behind them, through the glass where he can see the specialist take her leave, as well as other personnel making their way from place to place. His voice isn't as strong or as solid as he wants it to be, and he can only hope that neither of them can see the way his body is trembling, or at least that they don't say anything about it.

"Todoroki…" It's Yamada that talks first, and his voice is full of that same concern Shouto had heard yesterday. It forces more shame to wash over him and if he could sink into the floor right now, he would. He's putting these two through this, and nothing feels worse than that thought alone, not even the throbbing in his head and the dull ache throughout the rest of his body. He doesn't expect Yamada to continue, expecting the room to fall into an unsettling silence, but he hardly hesitates, voice picking up into his usual casual tone, though the concern still sits heavy in it, "Todoroki, it's really to be expected. You must be frustrated, but no one's blaming you, alright?"

Finally, Todoroki does raise his eyes to them. Yamada Hizashi is standing right in front of him, looking at him over thick-rimmed glasses with green eyes, hair held back in a ponytail. He's almost unrecognizable from the persona he puts on in hero work, at school, and most of the time on the radio. Shouto likes him better like this—he's always kind of liked Present Mic, even sometimes listening to his radio show when his father wasn't home, but it's never been something Shouto's really thought about—and Yamada feels a little more genuine, a little more real when he's like this.

"I set the therapy room on fire."

His voice is deadpan in the room and unaffected, but Shouto feels nothing but shame inside at not being able to even control his quirk.

Aizawa-sensei is standing behind Yamada, dressed differently than how Todoroki had seen him earlier today. It looks like Aizawa finally showered, and he's put on more formal clothing. He looks more put-together, and Todoroki's reminded in the back of his blurry thoughts that Aizawa and Yamada met with some people taking care of him today.

"Yeah, but no one got hurt!" Yamada sounds like he's trying hard to be positive, and Shouto can almost appreciate the sentiment. He keeps talking, filling the empty space in the room with his words, "And nothing got destroyed, so it's okay and—"

"Hizashi."

Todoroki forces himself to look away when he hears Aizawa cut Yamada off and catches him put his hand on the other man's shoulder. He can't stand to look his homeroom teacher in the eye, not when he's just been informed about Todoroki having such loose control over his quirk that he'd gotten frustrated enough to set the room on fire. There's other problems, too, other problems that Shouto is terrified of Aizawa knowing about.

He hears Aizawa's footsteps, hears him stop at the side of his bed, and he hears Aizawa's deep, gruff voice, "I can come to your next session if you're so worried about it happening again. No one blames you for not having the best control over your quirk."

Todoroki doesn't look at him, "That doesn't fix the other problems."

"The other problems are—"

"I can't do anything!" Todoroki interrupts, feeling immediate guilt hit him the moment he does so. He'd made a promise last night that he'd respect Aizawa and Yamada and he'd just interrupted him and he can't stop talking now, the words coming out of his mouth faster than his brain can even process them, and he has no way of getting himself to stop. "I can't read. I can't write my own name. I can hardly think. I can't even control my own quirk and I could've hurt someone because of it."

He's staring up at Aizawa now, his own mismatched eyes blazing and his head throbs in time with his fast heartbeat, his vision pulsing with every wave of hurt from his head. It's too much and Aizawa holds his gaze, face unchanging, and Todoroki can't even begin to read his expression. He waits and Shouto doesn't say anything, the beeping from the heart monitor fast, his own breaths coming in gasps. His head is spinning and he feels like he's falling away fast with every beat of the emotion he feels.

"You didn't hurt anyone. You won't," Aizawa finally tells him, his tone the usual lecturing, solid tone that Shouto is used to, and he finds himself hanging on to every word he says, his breathing starting to shallow at his voice. "The rest of that can be taught back to you. None of that matters. What matters is that you're alive."

Shouto feels himself breathe in sharply, "You're not going to expel me?"

Again, Aizawa studies him for a long time and then, his lips twitch upwards into the beginnings of a smirk, "Expelling you for this would be the height of irrationality."

He hardly has any time to process it, because Yamada is at the end of his bed, and he feels the mattress dip as the man sits on it. Shouto turns his attention to him, forcing himself to look away from Aizawa, and Yamada greets him with a genuine smile, "Shouto, wanna hear a story?"

He's beginning to realize that he feels especially warm inside and vulnerable, almost, when either of them use his given name. For once, he's fine with feeling slightly vulnerable, because with that feeling, part of him knows he's safe here, and he breathes out.

"A story?"

He can't deny that he's interested.

"Yeah!" Yamada chirps in his usual excited tone, sounding overly pleased with himself. "It's about Shouta."

"Oh, spilling my secrets, are you?"

When Todoroki looks back up at Aizawa for a moment, he sees that Aizawa isn't serious. It almost looks like he's teasing Yamada and it takes Shouto a long moment to realize that that's exactly what he's doing. There's a smile on his face, the smirk Shouto is used to seeing in class, and his tone is lighter than before.

Yamada waves him off, "Not secrets, Shouta. What do you say, kid? Wanna hear a story about your dear homeroom teacher?"

There's a beat of silence.

"Sure," Todoroki says after the moment falls. It feels like Yamada is genuinely offering, rather than making some kind of joke. Beside him, he hears Aizawa-sensei huff as he sits in the chair beside his bed and then there's pages rustling. Shouto doesn't look over at him, instead keeping his gaze on Yamada, who's grinning ear-to-ear at him. Yamada takes a breath, and then launches into speaking, his animated voice filling the air, his hands waving and making motions as he talks. Shouto settles in, relaxing just a bit, letting himself sink into the bed a little bit.

"You know, after the training simulation, Shouta had some brain damage, too. It wasn't too extensive and the doctors were more worried about getting him to see again, but he definitely lost some function. Hey, remember the sports festival? Part of the reason I dragged Shouta to commentate with him was because I wanted to keep an eye on him. He was still recovering," Yamada talks slow enough for Todoroki to process everything, though it still feels like a normal pace. He's animated, and his voice makes Todoroki want to listen more. Yamada's tone drops slightly, and he touches his fingers to his lips, as if in momentary thought, "I was real worried about him. Kinda thought I was gonna lose him."

Beside him, Aizawa clears his throat and speaks up, "I thought I commentated with you because you valued my opinion."

The knocks Yamada out of it, and he flashes a smile in Aizawa's direction, "I do! Hm, but you definitely would've gotten yourself into more trouble if I hadn't forced you in that room with me, wouldn't you? Don't be such a grump; you had fun regardless of my reasoning."

Yamada doesn't wait for a response, instead turing to Todoroki again, making wide movements with his hands as he talks, movements that are almost as entertaining to watch as his words are to listen to, "Anyways, Shouta hated therapy. Just hated it. The first day, he made up every excuse in the book to not go—"

"I'm trying to set a good example here, Hizashi."

Yamada sticks his tongue out at him, "And I'm trying to tell a story, killjoy."

Despite himself and despite what happened at the therapy session, Todoroki is starting to feel a little better. He likes to think it's whatever medication they'd pushed through the tube in his arm, but part of him knows it's the attitude in the room, the lighthearted banter between his two teachers, and the excitement buzzing in the room, centered at Yamada.

"Don't listen to him," Yamada whispers to him, putting his hand up, as if Aizawa can't hear him. Todoroki raises an eyebrow at him and Yamada gives him a laugh before resuming. "Every excuse. Every one of them. 'I have to feed the cats,' he tells me. 'I can't see well enough yet to go,' he says. 'If you want me to go, you're going to have to carry me,' like he thought I wouldn't do it! Well, I did. I carried his ass out to the car and drove him to the hospital. He argued the entire way, too! Said it wouldn't do any good, that he'd be just fine recovering at home. Such a stubborn guy, aren't you, Shouta?"

From beside him, there's a groan, but Aizawa doesn't actually deny it.

"He's always been so stubborn, ever since I met him in high school," Yamada sticks his bottom lip out in what looks like some kind of fake-pout. It pauses, and then goes back to his usual demeanor, "Well, as you can see, Shouta got better. But he wouldn't have if I'd let him stay home! So stubborn—Anyways, y'know, Shouta did the same thing you did at his first appointment. I can't remember what it was, but some therapist was drilling him enough and got in his face enough that Shouta used his quirk by accident. Shouta doesn't really like people getting in his space much, and it kinda set him off. I mean, clearly it didn't do anything, since, you know, he can only erase quirks that are active, but he did the exact same thing you did."

When Todoroki finally glances away from Yamada and to Aizawa, he sees him slouching in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at Yamada. He doesn't argue, though, nor does he scold Yamada for telling Todoroki all this.

He has to admit that he's feeling a little better, a little calmer, a little less guilty now. It's not only the fact that he apparently isn't alone in the loss of control over his quirk, but also Yamada's attitude and the back and forth between he and Aizawa. They're calming, even if Yamada is excitable and can be a little loud. And—he kind of likes knowing these things. He can't explain it, but there's definitely something calming about hearing about mundane things that don't have to do with hero work or teaching. Part of him wants to know more.

"How were things after that…?" He tries, hoping it'll spur Yamada into telling him more. The man's smile brightens, and he launches right back into his excited speech.

"Oh, it set Shouta back a little, since his eyes were recovering and using his quirk can really strain them. Hm, but Shouta recovered once he started cooperating in therapy," Yamada's voice drops to a more normal tone and he taps his fingers gently on the bed, as if he has to move while he talks. "It was hard for him. It's gonna be hard for you, too. That's just the way this stuff is. But you'll make it through, just like he did. You'll be able to go back to school, just like Shouta was able to go back to teaching after the festival. It might take a little bit—I tried to stop him, but Shouta probably went back to work too soon and even after that, he'd still be hurting a lot of the time. Sometimes he'd feed the cats two or three times a night just 'cause he kept forgetting he did it—they were pretty sad once he started remembering things more. I helped him with a lot of school stuff. Hey, Shouta, come on, stop pouting at me like that."

His last comment makes Todoroki look at Aizawa-sensei again and sees him all-but-glaring at Yamada.

"I thought you were trying to set a good example," Yamada sings at him. "Don't act so grumpy about this!"

"Fine," Aizawa sighs, sitting up straight again and shuffling the papers on his lap. He looks down at them, resting an arm on the metal rails of Todoroki's bed and his cheek on his hand, murmuring a response, "Your experience is typical. Don't worry too much about it. Focus on getting better."

"Yes, sir," It's automatic, and Todoroki doesn't realize his mistake until Aizawa gives him a look, raising an eyebrow at him. Todoroki stares, trying to find the response, voice shaking more than he wants it to when he speaks again, "Yes, Aizawa…?"

"There you go," Aizawa says before burying himself in the papers on his lap, and Todoroki is left feeling a little odd, though he wouldn't necessarily place it as a bad odd. Just not something he's used to. Not yet.

------

Todoroki dozes off after that, drifting in and out of consciousness. He's been finding himself sleepy a lot and he knows part of it is whatever medication he's being given and part of it is the fact that any amount of thinking or, worse, emotion will cause him to be exhausted immediately after it passes. He wakes a couple times to Yamada and Aizawa talking, though he doesn't try to eavesdrop on their conversation.

He finds himself dreaming about that night, and when he jolts awake a final time, pain shooting down his back, he decides that he doesn't want to sleep again out of fear of reliving the last couple hours of his memory again. He hasn't dreamt in the hospital until now, and his brain seems intent on replaying those last couple hours, hours he'd spent in his family home, as if his mind is desperately trying to process and make sense of it.

Aizawa is still at his side, and he hears the rustle of him turning to look at him when Todoroki sits up with a sharp intake of breath. It's easy to focus on Aizawa, and Shouto forces himself to do so, trying to get those same images out of his head. Aizawa's still in the same place he'd been before and doesn't look like he's moved at all. He's still going through the same paperwork, though he has a highlighter in his hand now. Todoroki can recognize Aizawa's own handwriting on the papers, from months of watching Aizawa write on the board in class, but he can't read it. The characters and lines just don't make sense and Todoroki finds himself staring at the page, trying to force his head to make sense of it and process the information that he knows is there.

It's easier than thinking about everything else. It's a lot easier than thinking about the question that's been on his mind ever since his conversation with Aizawa the previous night.

He doesn't understand why he's here. He knows, on an informational level, what brought him here. He knows about the events that took place. He knows what he did, initially. But what he did initially usually wouldn't warrant this, no matter how frustrated his father had been. There had to be something else, but honestly—

Honestly, Todoroki isn't too sure that he wants to know.

"It's your treatment plan."

He nearly startles at Aizawa's voice and realizes he's been caught staring at whatever he's working on.

"Sorry—" He clears his throat, body hurting at the simple action, and attempts to keep his voice solid.

"It's fine. If I didn't want you to see it, I wouldn't be working on it right here," He can't read Aizawa's face and for one of the first times, that doesn't make Shouto nervous.

"It's not like I can read it," Todoroki comments, frowning in thought and squinting at the characters written in Aizawa's neat handwriting. They don't make any more sense than they did the first time. The knowledge is there, and somewhere, he registers what an individual character says, but he can't put them together to form a coherent string. His head is foggy, and it burns, making his head throb, as he tries to make sense of what's written on the page.

Aizawa doesn't look away from him, nor does he react to Todoroki staring down at his paperwork again, "Do you want to know what it says?"

The frown on Shouto's face deepens a little, "You'd have to read it to me. I can't make sense of anything and…"

"I can do that."

"What—" Slowly, Todoroki looks back up at him and the throbbing in his head slowly starts to subside now that he's not trying to do something he knows he can't right now. "I'm a little old for that, Sensei?"

Aizawa takes him further by surprise by letting out a snort of amusement, "Are you?"

"I'm fifteen."

"I know," Aizawa continues fixing him with that look. He waits, and Todoroki gets more and more anxious under his gaze with every passing second, feeling his face start to heat up. He breaks before it's too late and he gets frustrated or embarrassed enough to use his quirk again.

"I mean, if you don't mind—"

"I don't," Aizawa tells him immediate, though he hesitates. "Hizashi left the hospital to get food, so he won't know. I do need to ask you something, though."

Shouto feels his mismatched eyes go wide, his heart beating faster as he waits, mouth dry, full of nothing but anxiety.

"I happened to get a call from a very…persistent Midoriya today," Instantly, Todoroki lets himself breathe in response to Aizawa-sensei's words, relieved that it isn't anything horrible. "He'd somehow convinced Kayama to call me. He wants to visit. I didn't tell him anything definitive, though I told him I'd ask you."

"Is that possible—?" Shouto blurts out without thinking. Midoriya calling Aizawa about him…there's no way he can know something, unless he's been trying to get ahold of Todoroki and he hasn't been answering. Or unless one of his family members contacted him, though that's an option Todoroki likes far less. It's clear from Aizawa's words that Midoriya knows something's wrong, and Todoroki only hopes that he doesn't know the full extent of it.

He does consider Midoriya a friend. Maybe his first friend. There's something different about him, about the positive, always optimistic way he speaks, about the innocence he carries with him and the way he's butt into Todoroki's life, ignoring the fact that Todoroki has almost no idea how to interact with others his age, and he likes the other boy's company, even if Todoroki himself is quiet.

He wouldn't really mind seeing him.

If he can just put on a face and act like everything's better than it is—

He can do that. He'll be fine. Izuku doesn't have to know anything, and if he knows something, he doesn't have to know everything. While he doesn't want to lie to him, he knows Midoriya enough to know that like him, Izuku is pretty anxious, though it's a different sort of anxiety. He's also well aware that Izuku is, as Aizawa had put it, persistent, and it makes him feel a little warm, a little less in pain when he thinks about the fact that Izuku was apparently so worried about him, that he'd called Aizawa to talk about him.

Shouto measures his breathing, counting the breaths in the same way he'd been taught to during training, the exercise muscle memory by now, as he tries to force himself to calm down. He looks at the facts again, doing everything he can to stay purely objective. Midoriya wants to see him. He doesn't know everything, since there's no way he can. Todoroki thinks he has it in him to act like things are alright, or at least more alright than they actually are. Aizawa and Yamada are here and he also thinks he convince them to stay during his meeting with Izuku, especially since Aizawa-sensei seems unwilling to leave his side. Midoriya is his friend.

He can't find a reason that he has to see Midoriya. There's no important matters to discuss with him. There's no plans to be made. But maybe it's alright to do something just because he wants to.

"It's possible," Aizawa informs him, keeping his gaze. "I can put him temporarily on your approved visitor list. The staff here has strict orders to not let anyone in who isn't on that list, but it'd be easy enough to modify it."

"Okay," Todoroki breathes, counting his breaths again. "Is that alright—?"

A beat of silence falls between them, but it doesn't last long.

"Sure. I'll let the staff and Midoriya know," With that, Shouto can tell the conversation is over. He settles back on the bed, and glances down at Aizawa's paperwork. He doesn't have to say anything, and a smile curls onto Aizawa's face, "You still want to hear about this? It's pretty boring; there's more interesting things I could read to you."

His face burns at the suggestion. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't have to.

"Alright. Feel free to ask questions if you have any."