Semi-Pro (Shota Aizawa X Reader)

Onus

You take the three boys back to school and Recovery Girl gets them settled in the infirmary. Iida was injured the worst, seriously injuring his left hand. It's likely fixable, but that's too close a call for you. You hope the events of that night act as a reminder of the consequences for fighting where you're not prepared, and going off without the support of your team.

As Aizawa suspected, the police department isn't pleased about three students breaking the hero code of ethics. The chief of police gives them an earful before surprisingly letting them almost entirely off the hook for their actions, mostly because they did in fact succeed in taking a prolific hero killer off the streets. The catch is that Endeavor, Todoroki's father and the current number two hero, is given the credit for taking down Stain. None of the students seem too bothered by giving up credit which you appreciate. If a hero ever gets to the point where credit bothers them, they should probably find a different line of work.

Midoryia is on crutches due to an injured leg, and you help him learn how to maneuver in them since you recently spent a few weeks using them. He can't return to his internship fully while injured, but from what he tells you about Gran Torino, he's learned some really important lessons about his Quirk there. You're elated to find he's focusing on channeling his power in a way to specifically disperse it and maintain his physical safety. He tells you all about it while sitting in on your solo training sessions. You're pretty sure he's taking notes on your fighting style which is a little unnerving but it gives him something to do while the other students finish their internships.

"Miss!!" Midoryia pipes up as you take a break from training to sip your water. "I've been meaning to ask you- I have some questions. About the Hero War."

You wipe your forehead with your arm, taking a minute to catch your breath. "What do you want to know?"

Midoryia's face sombers as he clutches his notebook. "Did you fight in it?"

"I did." You take a seat on the bench beside him. "I was on the front lines from start to finish."

His eyes widen at that. "What was it like?"

You sigh. "It was war, Midoryia. It was terrible. Thousands of innocents died. Many are still suffering in the US as we speak." You don't want to freak him out, but Midoryia is old enough to hear about this and seems to genuinely wants to understand.

The boy's face contorts as he mulls over what you've said. "Why do they hate people with Quirks so much?"

"It's... complicated." How much should you tell him? "Quirks appeared in the US the same time they did everywhere else, but some people were scared- scared of what they didn't understand and couldn't control. The US followed the rest of the world and formed the American Hero Program, but it was a difficult transition from the beginning. Citizens, especially Quirkless citizens, didn't appreciate the idea of heroes having what they saw as authority over them. Honestly, if it wasn't for All Might, hero work in the US may have never even happened."

Midoryia perks up at that, always excited to hear about his favorite hero. "All Might was the most well known hero in the world! How could America turn their back on him?"

"You're right- America loved the publicity All Might brought. But President Kinsey wanted heroes gone, and he was very good at blaming all of the country's problems on Quirk users. Without heroes, the villains ran rampant, and a hatred of Quirks began to fester in the population."

The green-haired boy shakes his head. "when I was little, all everyone wanted was to discover their Quirk. I got made fun of all the time for being Quirkless- that is, until I finally discovered mine late. It's crazy to think in America we'd all be feared for them."

"I feel really lucky to have made it out to somewhere Quirks are celebrated... and a little guilty, since so many people are still there suffering."

Midoryia's face pales, and you curse internally. "But it doesn't help anyone to dwell on that, we-"

"How can we help them? What can we do?" His voice is urgent, earnest. It's the natural response to hearing about such suffering, but you remember hearing those words before from your students in America.

"Listen to me, Midoryia," you say a little too sharply, fighting the panic in your gut. "What you need to do is keep up with your studies, and become a great hero. You're still young- you don't have to worry about things like this."

He frowns, and you feel bad for pulling the 'you're too young' card, but in this case you're convinced you're right. The last time you had a conversation like this it ended with the death of your students who wanted to help, and you refuse to let that happen again.

"I've got to keep training," you say more gently. "Can you make it back to the dorms on your own?"

He nods. "The crutches are a lot easier now. I'll be alright."

"Okay then. Get to it!" you say with your gruffest Aizawa impression, earning an eye roll and smile from the boy as he hobbles away. Your own smile fades as he leaves, still thinking about what just transpired. All you can do for now is go throw yourself back into your training and keep it off your mind.

Bakugo uses his explosions to fly. What if you could do something similar? Your toxins aren't explosive, but you've been able to raise yourself off the ground before by shooting your gaseous form with enough pressure. If you focus the blast from just your hands, and use those to aim...

You try it, firing toxic fumes from your palms as hard as you can and locking your elbows. You fly up into the air, much farther than you expected and you scream as you start falling back down. Panicking, you reach your hands out in front of you to break the fall, shooting more toxin, and manage to lift yourself back up slightly. You hit the ground with an oomph and rub your left ass cheek which took the brunt of the fall.

Well, at least that worked! Now you just need to learn how to aim. And land. And that's a good place to start.

You spend hours flying across the training field, constantly falling or accidentally firing yourself sideways and skidding across the turf. By the time you call quits, the sun is setting and you're covered in friction burns and sore spots that will likely bruise by tomorrow. However, you also managed to fly a slow but steady path around the field. You head back to the faculty apartments satisfied with yourself.