AN: I swear I never abandoned this fic or anything, I just got busy and lost interest in it for a bit, but I always planned to come back to it, and here I am. Back at it. It's a shorter chapter, sorry, but it is a chapter and I have an outline and everything so. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Shouta paced about his apartment restlessly. His cat, Mittles, jumped out of the way to avoid him. He was beyond pissed, livid even.

How dare that villain… how dare she call him and threaten him, threaten his students. Someone was going to pay. Someone was going to pay dearly for this—she was going to pay. It was bad enough that he already failed his students once, he wasn't going to do it again.

Mittles meowed beside him, but he just shrugged her aside. She was a good cat, but he didn't need her presence right now. He needed to think. He needed to do… something.

What could he do…

How had she gotten his phone number? Where had she called from… was there a way to trace that back? A thought struck him. Maybe he could track her through the phone she had used? It was a long shot, she probably hadn't used a traceable phone, but it was worth a shot.

He walked over to where he had thrown his phone and picked it up. Luckily, it hadn't broken when he had thrown it. He dialed the number of one of his most trusted friends. On the second ring, they picked up, "Hizashi?"

Hizashi tried to start with some small talk, as he always did when Shouta called, but he didn't have time right now. There was a reason he had called, and he didn't want to waste any time. "Hizashi, listen to me… no— well… no—" Hizashi wouldn't let him get a word in, "He had yes, I know— No, look, I need your help… What? No, not for that, I need help tracking a phone."

He went on to explain the situation, how he had gotten a call from the villain and was pissed about it, rightfully so. It didn't help when Hizashi told him that the phone was more than likely a burner phone; it wouldn't be able to be tracked—though he did say he would try, for which, Shouta was grateful. It wasn't much, but at least there was some hope.

Running a hand through his hair, Shouta sighed knowing today was going to be a long day, and he was not ready for it. That goddamn call from the villain had ruined his entire weekend—the one weekend he had had off in almost three months—and now he had to go to U.A. and be wholly reminded of his failure as a teacher.

Ever since Midoriya had been rescued, class 1-A had been… restless. At first, they had all been ecstatic and overjoyed that Midoriya had been found—they thought things would go back to normal, but then they had seen the condition Midoriya was in. The truth of the situation had washed over the entire class, himself included, after seeing Midoriya; they had all realized that things were not okay, not in the slightest.

This wasn't like other times Midoriya had been injured. Midoriya was headstrong and stubborn as they come, but Shouta knew that what Midoriya had endured couldn't be mended overnight. The physical injuries might be able to heal in a week's time, but not the other kind of injuries: the mental scars. It would take time, lots of time, and even then there was no guarantee that Midoriya would ever be the same as before. Still, the class had stayed optimistic, but Shouta could tell, as the days dragged on, that that optimism was waning, giving way to fear and uncertainty.

However, they believed in Midoriya, and if nothing else, they would be there for him for as long as he needed. That thought was comforting. He knew there was something about this class that was different from others… They were closer than most, which was probably due to the fact that they had been through a lot more near-death experiences than other classes, but there was an undeniable kinship between his students this year. Yes, the more Shouta thought about it, the more he realized that this class had something unique, they were special. And, unsurprisingly so, this drive they all had, this passion, while it was all their own, it was guided by the two forerunners in the class.

Bakugo Katsuki was an explosive teen with… violent tendencies, but he was driven, and nothing was going to deter him from his path. The class followed that passion; they followed who they knew would lead them to glory.

And then there was the other leader of the class… Midoriya… his passion and caring nature was second to none. He was eager to learn and always more than willing to jump into the fray to save someone in need. He had the true makings of a hero, albeit the makings were utterly similar to a certain reckless hero… Midoriya was someone they could count on. No matter what happened, Midoriya always seemed to be there, in the thick of it. He was a shining light in the class, someone they could follow.

Now… that light had dimmed and even Bakugo's brashness had halted in its disappearance. Nobody had thought anything could stop Midoriya, he was headstrong, never let any setback keep him down for the count, but this was different.

How could anyone expect Midoriya… expect a kid to bounce back from something like that?

Shouta stifled a groan. Even thinking about it made his blood boil. Shouta didn't want to think about it; he wanted to forget about it, forget it ever happened, but he knew as soon as he got to U.A. the reality would still be there, ready to slam into him like a bus.

He hated it. He wasn't the kind of person who let this type of thing get to him. He'd seen this happen before, with kids even, but this time it was more personal. It hurt more because Midoriya wasn't just some kid he had rescued, Midoriya wasn't a kid who had been in a bad place, gotten in with the wrong crowd or just been unlucky, in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, Midoriya hadn't been any of that… he had been targeted. The villains had set out to get him specifically.

It hurt more this time because this time, the villains had hurt one of his kids.

Whether Shouta acknowledged it or not, this year's class 1-A was different from past years… they had wormed their way past his exterior, and, albeit reluctantly, he had found himself more invested with them than any other class he'd taught.

It was quiet, and it had been for the past few hours. Inko was grateful for that. Yesterday had been trying, but necessary. She looked down to see Izuku was still sleeping soundly, for once. A small smile wove its way onto her face—she hadn't seen Izuku look this peaceful in a long while.

She hadn't moved from her position all night, not having the will to leave him, not after he had pleaded for her to stay. She couldn't do that to him. He needed her more than ever right now, and she was going to be there for him, no matter what.

Inko absentmindedly ran her fingers through Izuku's unruly hair. It was tranquil, she thought. Right now, she could pretend nothing was wrong. She could pretend that her son wasn't hurting, that he was okay… that she was okay.

The moment ended far too soon.

Izuku shifted positions before murmuring, "Mom…?"

She turned her gaze to him, to see he was still half asleep—just like when he was younger and didn't want to get up.

She ruffled his hair. "Mornin, honey. Did you sleep well?" she asked softly.

Izuku just nudged his head against her hand, "Five more minutes... Mm' tired," he slurred out, sleep worming its way in his voice.

"You can sleep as long as you want, Izuku. We don't have any plans for today," she replied easily.

Instead of answering, Izuku just curled into the sheets and went back to sleep. His breathing evened out, and Inko knew he'd fallen unconscious again.

She was happy that he was finally getting some sleep. These past few days had been difficult for the both of them. She knew, by the look in his tired eyes and the way he lethargically carried himself, that he hadn't been getting the proper amount of sleep. It was concerning. She hated seeing her only son, her baby, in so much agony that he couldn't even sleep properly. He tried to hide it—god did he try to hide it from her—but he wasn't the best actor; he never had been.

She recalled the times when he was in middle school. When he'd come home all bruised up with tears welling in his eyes as he stuttered out a feeble 'I tripped' and went to his room. She had called him out on it many times, worried for his safety, but each time he assured her it was an accident or that it wasn't nearly as bad as it looked.

She had never believed him.

His demeanor back then had always been so solemn and downcast. He had rarely smiled genuinely, there had been many times that he attempted to fool her with a flimsy, facsimile of a smile, but it was few and far between when those smiles reached his eyes… but then, things had changed.

When he got into U.A. Inko had noticed the change almost immediately. Izuku had always been shy and timid, it was part of his personality, but as time went on she could tell he was growing more confident, the shy timidness was giving way to overt determination. He still came home injured—by his own doing more often than not—but his melancholic demeanor had shifted into something more jovial.

Izuku had been happy.

There wasn't anything that could have made Inko more pleased. Her fears with him being in danger by attending the school were all quelled by the fact that finally, her baby boy was smiling. It was difficult, but she could deal with him coming home injured as long as he came home wearing that genuine smile.

Inko blamed herself more than anyone when Izuku went missing. It had been her fault that Izuku was even outside of campus that day… if it weren't for her, then maybe he wouldn't be in this situation right now.

Sighing, she tried to dispel those types of thoughts. It didn't matter how she felt right now, all she was concerned about was her baby boy. Right now, she was perfectly content with sitting here, with him resting soundly. It was nice; it was comforting. Inko wouldn't even mind if they remained like that all day. If it meant Izuku was getting some much-needed rest, then she would happily give up her day.

Unfortunately, she knew it wouldn't last nearly as long as she hoped it would, and the shifting bed told her that the moment was interrupted as Izuku had awakened again.

"Mom… what… uh, what day is it?"

There was curiosity, but also sadness lingering in the question. There was so much pain and resignation in Izuku's demeanor nowadays, just the way he asked questions as if he was afraid none of this was real, or that he was talking to no one. She wondered briefly, how many times he had called out into the darkness, asking for someone to remind him where he was only to be met with silence.

"It's Monday," she answered softly.

"Oh."

Inko couldn't say she liked the way his voice deflated at that. It wasn't necessarily alarming, but it was disheartening.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly, shifting up in bed so that he was sitting.

She adjusted herself so that she was in a more comfortable position while also allowing Izuku to shift himself up.

Izuku sighed. "I don't like this." Before Inko could respond, he continued, "It's Monday, and I should be in school, with my friends, learning about heroes, and how to be one… and—" bitterness overtook his voice "—and everything should just be normal, but it's not, and I'm not there… I'm here… sitting in bed pathetically clinging to a reality I can't even see anymore."

It hurt Inko a lot to see her son like this. It hurt, even more, knowing that she just wasn't capable of helping him in the way that he needed help.

"I know Izuku," she said, "I know you don't, but we'll take it one step at a time. Day by day, okay?"

Shouta didn't like how quiet his class was. Everyone was downtrodden, but a few in particular just looked downright beat. Iida had a reserved hesitance to him, while Uraraka looked like she might cry every time she glanced at Midoriya's vacant seat. Todoroki was stoic, but there was a frigid uncertainty to his demeanor. Kirishima was stealing glances at everyone and just looked miserable, but Bakugo… he was the worst.

It surprised Shouta, but it really shouldn't have. Midoriya and Bakugo had a complicated relationship, and in no way could they be called friends, but they were rivals. Shouta knew it would be a blow to Bakugo to see someone he considered his equal (or as close to an equal as Bakugo could call him) fall like that… it had to be frustrating. But… there was something else, pain and hatred in his red eyes.

Even Kaminari, who had shown nothing but absolute assuredness over Midriya's recovery, looked shaken. He would cast worried glances at Bakugo, before clandestinely (or Kaminari seemed to think it was) texting Mina something. Mina was much better at hiding her phone, but it was still rather obvious to him that they were texting each other.

Under normal circumstances, Shouta would have confiscated their phones, but right now he could barely get himself to teach. His mind was elsewhere, and frankly, there were better things he could be doing right now: namely, finding the villains who did this to Midoriya, to his class.

Those villains had taken so much more from his class than just one student.

And he wouldn't stand for it.

Izuku yawned as he sat down on the couch tentatively. All day he felt as though he had been walking on eggshells, eggshells that he couldn't even see. He was exhausted but mentally more than physically. Shadows were always sneaking up on him now, glimpses of horrors that were no longer a threat to him. He would have his moments where everything was fine, where he didn't feel this all-encompassing void that was swallowing him, but those moments were few and far between.

Even more so than his own woes, he was pushing his brokenness onto his mother. She was tired, he could tell by the way she talked, the way her footsteps sounded heavier.

This entire situation just sucked. It really, really sucked. They hadn't talked much this morning, and Izuku knew words weren't necessary right now. Izuku knew things weren't all right, that steps—steps he didn't necessarily want to take—would need to be taken.

It was obvious that he wasn't okay, that he wouldn't be okay, not on his own. And the help he needed… it wasn't something his mom or friends alone could give him. He knew that, but he still didn't like to think about it. Admitting he was too weak to deal with this by himself left a sour taste in his mouth. He had thought he was done being weak. He had been weak all his life—quirkless and useless—but then he was given a quirk. Given power to not be weak, to be the hero he always dreamed of being. And now that was all gone.

Now, he's back to being useless. Worse than useless even. His sight was gone, his body weak, and mind fractured. He was broken. Plain and simple.

But…

Even if he was broken, he couldn't give up. He couldn't. He wanted to get better, he wanted to be able to be a hero again, talk to his friends without fear,. Just be… be normal again. He wanted that, needed it. Even if it terrified him, even if it hurt his already shattered pride, he would do anything, anything, to get that semblance of normal back. He hated that things were tough right now, that it was draining not only him, but his mom to just… just to live. It was awful. He didn't want it to be like this forever. He couldn't have it be like this forever. He just couldn't.

Distantly, he could hear his mom in the kitchen. She was making lunch, a late lunch he thought, but couldn't be sure. He wasn't hungry, not really, but eating wasn't something he could just skip. He knew that… just the thought of food reminded him of that. Still, tempting as it may be to try and wriggle his way out of eating, that wouldn't do anyone any good, least of all him. It was just… it was an undesirable situation he was in, but he had to make the best of it. He had to… or it wouldn't get better. He wouldn't get better. And Izuku couldn't accept that. Not at all.

It didn't sit right with Ochako.

She was staring at his empty seat in class… and it wasn't right. Deku was… he was strong, stronger than anyone she had ever met, but he wasn't okay. He was hurting right now, and he needed them. Their last attempt to help him had been a bust. But that wouldn't stop her from trying.

They just needed to go about it better. A surprise visit probably wasn't the best idea. It was selfish on their part—the last thing Izuku needed was surprises, even if they were good. He needed normalcy, and more than that, Ochako realized, he might need the consistency.

She had been thinking about it a lot since then. She had thought visiting Deku would help, but it hadn't. Even before Deku had freaked out, something had been missing. It took her awhile to finally realize what it was.

She was trying to treat Deku the same as before. She had thought that if she treated him like normal then he would feel better, but honestly, Ochako knew in her heart that she had thought acting like normal would make things more normal for her. She hadn't really thought about Deku's needs. He didn't need the old normal, he wasn't the same as before.

Deku was the same person, but he was different too. He wasn't unbreakable, acting like he was wasn't going to help him.

Seeing him like that on Saturday… seeing him look so vulnerable really put it into perspective for her. Ochako knew she didn't need to treat him like he was broken, but she couldn't treat him like nothing was wrong either. She needed to adjust herself to him. He was still strong and resilient, just, right now, he needed help.

Help that she couldn't give, but also help that she could. She couldn't do everything, in fact, she knew there was really very little she could do, but even if it was only a little help she could offer, she would offer it. Deku deserved that much.

With that resolve set into her eyes, she turned to look at Iida. His complexion was conflicted. He was thinking about Saturday too, she could tell by his posture. Everyone in the class was tense, even the ones who hadn't seen Deku nearly as much if at all. The air itself was just tense. It would be for a while, at least until Deku was back.

When she turned to see Todoroki, he was glaring at his desk. Just glaring. Ochako knew he wasn't mad. He was upset, but he looked more frustrated than anything. Frustrated with himself maybe? She didn't know.

She sure was frustrated with herself. This entire situation was frustrating. Wanting to help but not knowing how was the worst.

Her frustration wouldn't stop her though. It couldn't. If she could help Deku, then she would. She went over to Iida's desk, grabbing Todoroki's attention and motioning him over as well.

"We need to help Deku," she said.

Iida and Todoroki both nodded, but Todoroki looked more unsure than anything.

"How? You saw him… He's not…" Todoroki lingered, looking down.

Iida filled in for him, "His condition is beyond our abilities, Uraraka, but I feel the same way as you. We cannot simply leave him alone. He needs us right now."

"What can we do? You saw him… I can't— He can't even stand the sound of my voice, how can I help him?"

"We just have to change the way we go about it is all. We tried to treat him normally like nothing happened, but something did happen. He's different, and we can't erase that," Ochako said, voice filled with emotion, "but that's why we have to help. We're his friends so we have to find a way to get through to him."

Iida and Todoroki both nodded. No matter what, they were going to come up with a plan to help Deku. They were his friends, and they weren't going to abandon him.

AN: Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and until next time,

Vera~