Fight or Flight [BNHA x reader]

A festival for a fighter

The sports festival finally reared its head and you felt more than prepared. You were sitting on the counter, excalibur in your lap, as you and Aizawa ate your breakfast in the comfort on one another's presence. After putting the dishes in the sink, you helped him wrap the bandages back around his mouth and snorted at how goofy he looked. The sight of him being mummified would never not be funny.

"Ready Ao?" His voice was slightly muffled by the gauzy bandages covering his mouth but with his tendency to mumble—mainly insults to Hizashi or complaining about his shitty students— before the accident, it wasn't that much harder to understand what he was saying.

"Mhm, I'm going to kick ass today." Hatsume had given your arm a tune up, making sure all the heating and new parts were working properly last night so you were feeling more ready to go than ever. Your surrogate father felt his entire body flood with unwanted warmth. He had noticed the change since the USJ incident and was so proud of who you were becoming. No longer did he see the little girl with no understanding of anything but death and pain, he saw a strong growing woman who was finally learning who she wanted to be and how there was more to life than being a Tenshi.

"I'm sure you will...today the whole world is going to know who you are who...who your family was." Aizawa and Principal Nezu had given you the option to opt out of the festival if you didn't want the world to know where [Name] Tenshi was, but you disagreed. You didn't care that they were going to know who you were, you wanted to compete in this festival for yourself. It was something you trained for, something you believed would help you find your identity as a person and as a hero. Besides, Bakugou would probably try to murder you if you didn't even try.

"I know. There is going to be a lot of people who want me dead aren't there." It wasn't a question.You knew it was going to be a lot of mixed reactions, it always was when people found out who you were, who you were related to. Your identity had been pretty low-key after your moving in with Aizawa but today everyone was going to know who you were....for good or bad it was going to happen.

He couldn't say he was disappointed with the whole world knowing you, it was scary to think of all the people that would despise your mere presence in a hero school but Aizawa believed they could all go suck it. There were too many pompous people, too many with a narrow view of a hero and why they were going to be a hero but you (and begrudgingly the softy Izuku and feral Bakugou as well) would be able to help change that narrow view of good and evil. 

Aizawa believed he was surely not a caring man, not in the slightest, but the trickle of pride knowing that the whole world would know you were his ward, his...daughter and that you were so strong. It made him feel some sense of warmth...though he still swore it was only because they'd see how strong he helped you be...surely nothing else.

Aizawa was standing right in front of you, his height less towering since you were seated on the counter, swinging your legs for childish amusement. His dark bloodshot eyes were boring directly into your lilac ones and you smiled, a bitterly amused smile at how your parents never didn't fuck your life. 

Even after all the training to not be afraid of failure and learning how emotions worked, after meeting people who didn't instantly hate or fear you for being born the way you were, after meeting Akito and the other kids who taught you reasons to protect other people...your parents still managed to fuck up something in your life from beyond the grave.

Your guardian took one step forward and you met him in the middle, jumping from the granite countertop and wrapping your arms around his middle, only squeezing him tight enough he'd lightly groan (whenever you had bruises he would poke them just to amuse himself so you got your much needed revenge). His bandaged hand was placed on the top of your head, he could barely feel the ridges of the dual french braids trailing down to your back. You could feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke, the lazy drawl laced with a firm, prideful conviction.