Um hewwo! I got inspired by the ask talking about trans Aizawa discovering Midoriya is trans and I OOP.
Sorry it's not amazing, writing isn't a strength of mine. I had fun though and hopefully you enjoy the scenario!
Trigger warning for descriptions of dysphoria taken from my own experiences.
A heavy sigh escaped Aizawaâs chest as the coffee maker hummed to life.
It was way-too-early-o-clock and he was already mentally preparing a new excuse as to why he was going to be giving his homeroom another free study period today. He felt little guilt in needing the extra nap time to deal with the trial that had become raising 1-A.
Wrenching open the cupboard, Aizawa made to reach for the sugar when his eyes hovered over the pitifully empty container of cereal.
Why donât these kids tell him when they are getting low on something? Itâs as if they all just expect the grocery fairy to magically keep everything stocked. How were they supposed to take care of others if they couldnât even manage to care for themselves?
Aizawa had half a mind to leave it to run out and let his students deal with the fallout when they had nothing to eat for breakfast. After allowing himself a moment to muse over his own pettiness, he decided to be the adult and pulled out his phone to begin a shopping list.
The pro-hero shuffled around the kitchen, checking each cupboard to determine what items would need to be picked up during his next grocery run. It wasnât until Aizawa reached the first-aid drawer that he hesitated.
It wasnât necessarily that uncommon to need to continuously replace the classesâ shared medical supplies given the nature of the hero course, but this seemed excessive. What was this, the third time this month? He couldnât recall that many injuries requiring bandaging having occurred recently. Problem Child hadnât even broken anything since training camp.
Before Aizawa had the chance to tap the offending item out onto his growing shopping list, he stiffened at the distinct sound of water beginning to run through the buildingâs pipes.
Who has a shower this early in the morning?
Narrowing his eyes toward the common area, he pocketed his phone and prepared to reprimand whoever had the guts to break curfew as he made his way to the communal bathrooms.
He grumbled to himself as he attempted not to let the fear of walking in on two teenagers going at it prevent him from doing his job, making no effort to hide the annoyance on his face. He had not signed up to become the 24/7 guardian of a rowdy group of idiotic, self-sacrificing teens that didnât know better; and he certainly didnât get payed enough for it either.
Much to his relief, Aizawa could only count a single pair of feet peaking out from the shower stall as he quietly entered the bathroom. He opened his mouth to let whoever the delinquent was know that they had 5 minutes to get out of the shower and back to bed, but paused as his eyes fell on the bundle of clothes discarded in a pile next to him.
Amongst them, was a wad of ace bandages.
It wasnât logical to jump to conclusions. The class of 1-A got themselves injured all the time (much to his dismay). Bandages had more than one use. ButâŚ.
That really was a lot of them.
After taking a moment to consider the situation, Aizawa hastily gathered up the clothing, making a point of leaving the bandages, and stalked over to the shower.
âKind of early to be having a shower, isnât it kid?â Grateful for the way his monotone voice covered the concern that had taken root in the pit of his stomach.
Despite the build up of humidity that had collected in the room, Aizawa could feel the ice-cold shock radiating off his student as their own realization sunk in. The shower immediately snapped off.
âS-sensei?â squeaked Problem Child. Of course it was him.
There was the soft sound of shuffling before the shower stall cracked open, revealing a wide-eyed Midoriya hiding behind the door. It did not escape Aizawaâs notice the way his arm hugged the towel that was wrapped around his chest tightly.
Without saying anything, he shoved the articles of clothing he had brought into Midoriyaâs arms, and watched as his student studied the bundle quickly then returned his gaze up to his teacher. His mouth hung open, and Aizawa could guess what was on his mind. He silently dared the kid to inquire about the missing bandages. It would make this conversation a whole lot easier if he didnât have to be the one to initiate it.
True to his timid nature, Midoriya instead retreated back into the stall. He emerged fully clothed not long after, shoulders hunched, and arms folded tightly over his chest as his gaze fell to the side.
Upon seeing his kid in this state, a familiar, long forgotten agony reignited deep in his heart. It was a reminder of the hours spent getting dressed for the day, attempting to find something to wear that didnât rip sobs from his throat. It was a reminder of the way his nails felt as he pressed them into the offending flesh, raking them down in an attempt to pull his chest from his body. It was a reminder of looking in the mirror, dissociating from the stranger staring back at him, wondering why he looked so much different in his own head. It was a reminder that, even though he was no longer plagued by the never ending ache from a body that felt foreign to him, that this was still his students reality.
Cursing his lack of tact, Aizawa attempted to allow his features to soften. For the first time since he can remember, he desperately hoped his face conveyed the emotions overwhelming his mind.
He needed that kid to know that he gets it.
After what felt like an eternity, Aizawa finally picked up the ace bandages and turned to Midoriya. âAre theseââ
âProblem Child look at me.â he interrupted himself, wincing at the tone of his own voice. His studentâs eyes finally met his. He didnât say anything, but the fear he was experiencing was written all over his face.
He continued after a moment to collect himself, focusing on speaking evenly and quietly. âAre these what youâve been using?â There was an unspoken understanding that Aizawa was painfully aware of what the bandages had been used for.
Izuku had been expecting a number of reactions. Ignorance. Misunderstanding. Transphobia. But not the concern and pity coming off his teacher in waves. He briefly considered attempting to lie, claim the bandages were for supporting his mangled arms. But that look in his eyes. Somehow, for some reason, Aizawa knew.
A tired sigh brought the teenager from his thoughts, as he watched the pro-hero before him peel away his black hoodie, and quietly passed it to him.
After straightening out the t-shirt that had been underneath, Aizawa rubbed the back of his neck. âWhen I was younger, I found that excessively large clothing helped me feel better.â He mumbled, sheepish at his admissions.
Aizawa could practically see the cogs of Midoriyaâs brain working as he processed that statement. The implications it had.
âY-you?â his kid stammered, attempting to wrap his mind around what his teacher had just confessed to him. âAizawa Sensei, you wereâ areâ?â
âYeah kid.â He cut Midoriya off, crouching before him in hopes that it would make him more approachable to the anxiety ridden teen. âLook. You canât bind your chest at all hours, and you certainly canât be doing it with these.â Aizawa lifted the hand the ace bandages were gathered in. âYouâre going to disfigure your ribs, then how are you going to be a hero? You wonât even be able to breath properly.â
A soft sob cut him from his passive lecture, his attention fixing to Midoriyaâs face as it flushed with shame.
âI- I know. I justââ, his student hiccupped as he desperately tried to justify himself.
Another sigh. âMidoriya, Iâm not mad. And you arenât in trouble.â He offered, hoping that would ease him into opening up. âIâm just⌠worried.â
Relief flood the kidâs expression as he sniffled and wiped a tear from is eye before it had the chance to fall. âI⌠my family⌠we canât afford to get me a binder.â
Aizawa waited patiently as his student stumbled over how he wanted to begin.
âAll of our spare funds go into affording my schooling. We barely have enough for me to attend UA.â Midoriyaâs gaze fell to the floor. âI know that what Iâve been doing isnât safe. But my mom⌠she already sacrifices so much for me. I canâtââ, a strangled sob escaped from him at the mention of his mother. âI canât be any more of a burden on her than I already am. So, I just pretend I donât have any dysphoria. She doesnât even know Iâve been binding.â
Of course he was more focused on how his transition would affect others than his own well being. He shouldnât have expected anything different from the kid that had shattered his arms to prove a point to a classmate.
Midoriya waited in suffocating silence while his teacher gathered his thoughts.
 âWanting to feel comfortable and happy doesnât make you a burden.â
His kidâs eyes widened as his head snapped towards Aizawa, a questioning look prompted him to continue.
âBeing a hero is a unique job. Every day you sacrifice yourself to take care of others, and give them safety and hope. But you canât take from an empty well. If you donât have anything of yourself to give, if you arenât attending to your own emotions and health, you wonât have any strength to draw from to give to those you are trying to protect. Not taking care of yourself is what makes you a burden. You understand, Problem Child?â
This elicits a weak nod from Midoriya, whoâs eyes are still trained to the floor.
Aizawa studied him for a moment, before resting a hand gently on his kids shoulder. âItâs UAâs job, my job, to prepare you for the world that is waiting for you after graduation. And, Midoriya, Iâm sorry, that I failed to notice that you were struggling and didnât have the support system you needed.â
At this, an incomprehensible string of mutterings burst from the shocked teenagerâs mouth as he attempted to argue that his teacher had anything to apologize for. A raised hand silenced Midoriya once more, as Aizawa refused to let the kid shoulder his own failings as an educator.
He withdrew his hand from his studentâs shoulder, and stood up once more, hoping to depict himself as a someone strong that could be relied on. âDo you know why, the tuition at UA is so high, Midoriya?â, who shook his head at that. âPrinciple Nedzu recognizes that working as a hero puts strain on a personâs mental and physical health, and as such, set the cost of UA so that he could provide all students and alumni of this school health insurance.â
Midoriyaâs mind was racing. He didnât want to give himself false hope by jumping to conclusions butâŚ.
âDo you want to transition?â
He felt his breath hitch as his heart skipped.
âYes.â The answer came in a breathless whisper.
Aizawa felt something he couldnât name grow in his chest. Midoriya needed help. Needed someone to be there for him as he experienced this pivotal point in his life. He would be that person, itâs the least he could do.
He had to make his Problem Child care about himself as much as others cared for him, as much as he cared for him.
âTomorrow, after your classes, we are going to have a talk with Recovery Girl about what you want out of your transition, and begin the paperwork to get you covered for procedures and medications you need. Alright, Problem Child?â
The pro-hero had expected the tears that instantly fell from Midoriyaâs face at that. He had expected the trembling, heaving as sobs shook his small frame. What Aizawa hadnât expected, was the solid impact hitting his chest as his kid threw a hug around him. He felt himself go rigid as he attempted to process the teenagerâs sudden abandonment of his usual anxiety around authority figures. Awkwardly, he brought an arm up around his shuddering shoulders and pulled him closer.
âThank you Mr. Aizawa.â
Aizawa felt a fond smile tug at his lips despite himself.
âIf you really want to thank me, youâll wear sports bras until the binder Iâm going to order you comes in, and use that hoodie when around your classmates outside of school.â He motioned to the black fabric now hanging loosely from the kidâs arm.
This prompted Midoriya to pull away from his teacher and tug the sweater over his head. His student was absolutely swimming in it, the bottom hem coming down to almost reach his knees. But it left him a cozy, androgynous blob, and Aizawa couldnât help but hum in approval as he watched his shoulders relax a little.
It was a relief, knowing that he could help mitigate some of the pain this poor child had to go through on a daily basis. Even if it was only a little.
Midoriya offered a grateful, watery smile as he wiped the remnants of tears from his face with a sleeve.
Aizawaâs heart caught in his throat, and despite his better judgement, he couldnât stop himself from offering one last piece of comfort.
âYou arenât alone, Izuku. You understand me? You are never alone. Iâm here for you.â
Nothing was going to hurt his kid and make him look like that ever again. Not if he could help it.
Also submitting a post on anon required me to put in an email, I don't know if it shows up for you, but if it does, can you just copy and past this separately in a new post so that my email isn't public? Thanks!
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I love this so much omg this was absolutely beatifully written!! Thank you so much for sending me this I gotta share it with the world!! (Also no worries anon, I can't see your email on moble, so Imma post it. If anything changes I'll be sure to take it down asap!)
