Redemption From a Father [REVISE]

How to Text Your Dad (Badly)

A couple days passed, and Izuku still hadn't texted his dad back. One week, that's what Hisashi said.

"Take your time, think about it."

So Izuku was thinking. Very hard. Maybe too hard. Even Mineta and Kaminari joked they could see smoke coming out of Izuku's ears.

The whole mess from last weekend was finally starting to settle. Things with All Might didn't feel so heavy anymore, still awkward sometimes, but there were more honest moments now. Fewer "I'm fine!" lies, more real talks.

And with Katsuki, miracles happened.

They weren't suddenly the best duo in Japan, but Katsuki spoke to him without yelling every five seconds. Sometimes he even waited for Izuku's answer and didn't insult him halfway through. Progress.

So in overall, Izuku felt... lighter. Not fixed, but like he could breathe again.

Aizawa sensei had pulled him aside on last Monday after class. It wasn't dramatic. No dark hallway, no spotlight. Just Aizawa standing like a tired cat with a clipboard, eyes half open but clearly paying attention. You know, that classic sleepy glare hiding genuine concern.

"Midoriya, a word." he said, tone neutral.

Which, for Aizawa, meant something's about to be discussed and you're not leaving until it's done.

Izuku followed him to the side of the room, confused and a little nervous. The rest of the class filtered out, leaving only the sound of chatter and doors closing in the distance.

Aizawa leaned on a desk, the clipboard hanging loosely from his hand, while Izuku stood awkwardly in front of him, like a kid caught doing something he wasn't sure was illegal.

"So. Want to tell me what exactly happened last weekend?"

That "so" was doing a lot of heavy lifting.

As expected he asked what happened, and Izuku explained the situation—dad calling, possible reunion, emotional tsunami incoming and all the yada yada.

Aizawa listened the whole time without blinking, which was honestly scarier than being glared at. Izuku rubbed his neck, already feeling the weight of what was coming.

"Well...I haven't seen him in years," Izuku continued. "He left when I was little. So it's... a lot. I don't even know if I want to see him yet."

Aizawa didn't react. Still with that unreadable, calm stare.

"I told Mom. She said it's my choice. I think she's okay. I mean, she sounded okay. But I can tell she's...uh, processing. And I'm... also processing? Kinda. Emotionally. Maybe. I don't know, Sensei."

Aizawa sighed, rubbed his face, and spoke like someone who had just finished reading twenty essays that all started with 'Since the dawn of hero society...'

"So," Aizawa said, voice flat. "That's what happened huh..."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're considering meeting him."

Izuku twisted the hem of his shirt, voice small. "Maybe. I'm... not sure yet."

Aizawa nodded once. "Listen. If you don't want to meet him, say it. If he tries to corner you at school, I'll handle him. I know how to remove stubborn adults."

Izuku blinked. "...like, legally?"

Aizawa gave him a blank look. "Let's not worry about labels."

That earned a small, nervous laugh. "You don't have to do that, Sensei—"