"If only I rescued her then, even if I had to use force." Midoriya stared down at the table. "At least she'd be safe."
"We know you tried, Deku," Uraraka softly told him.
(Y/n), who sat next to him, rubbed his back gently as a way to try and calm him down.
The door then opened, Mr. Aizawa coming into the room. "Is this a funeral or something?"
"Mr. Aizawa. Hello, sir," Asui greeted their teacher.
"Call me Eraser Head outside of school," he corrected her. "You know, it's just my luck. Before you got involved in this, I was going to recommend that your work-studies be suspended."
"What?!" Kirishima shot up from his seat as the group gasped. "Why would you do that?"
"You were listening when he said the League of Villains was involved, right? That changes things." Mr. Aizawa sighed as he watched Midoriya's reaction. "Here's the deal, Midoriya. You still haven't proven I can trust you again."
He knelt down in front of Midoriya. "So I'll watch you. If you're going to see this through, you gotta do it the right way. Use your head. You hear me, problem child?"
(Y/n) smiled as Midoriya nodded, taking her hand away from his back. Mr. Aizawa continued, "I'll only say this once, in case it gives you a little peace of mind. Just because you didn't hold onto her this time, doesn't mean you didn't give Eri hope. So keep going."
"I'm the man for the rest of your life, Eraser!" Kirishima happily exclaimed after Mr. Aizawa gave them the go ahead to continue their work-study.
"Ugh, not interested."
"Sorry!" Kirishima bowed apologetically.
"Calm down, Kiri." (Y/n) turned to him and bopped the top of his head, she then turned to Midoriya. "Everything's going to be okay, Izuku."
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That night, when the group got back, the information from the meeting was killing (Y/n) inside. She couldn't even vent about it to Bakugo because they were under orders to not say anything about their work-studies.
"Are we still on for spicy ramen?" Bakugo asked as she went into the dorms, taking off her jacket.
"Yeah." She nodded slightly, the thought of Eri's body being manufactured into bullets still making her slightly nauseous.
After the two made dinner, she could barely eat a bite. Maybe it was because the noodles' scent burned her nostrils, but mostly because she was afraid to open her mouth.
If she even opened it to breath, it felt like she was going to spill out word vomit. Nope, actual vomit (if this joke goes in vain, I will throw this entire book away with my laptop). She got up and calmly sped-walked to the bathroom, running to the nearest stall the second the door closed.
