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Shouta strides into the classroom fresh from a cup of black coffee and a restless nap, and sets his papers down on the lectern at the front.
"Today," he says, watching his students look up in mild confusion, "we're going to be talking about discrimination."
Iida frowns. "Sensei!" he says. Shouta blinks at him. "This period is allocated to Foundational Hero Studies. I believe All Might is supposed to be our teacher!"
"All Might is busy right now," says Shouta, thinking about the white, blank walls of Tartarus, and the symbol of evil sitting within. "I'm covering his class, and I thought I'd cover an important topic."
Iida bows slightly, bending at the torso, and sits back down.
Lounging in his seat, back slumped as he makes a face, Bakugou speaks up. "Why the fuck do we need to learn about that?" Behind him, Midoriya stiffens visibly. Shouta notes the reaction down mentally, but doesn't move to show his reaction.
"Heroes have a responsibility," Shouta answers, and sweeps his gaze over the class. Yaoyorozu is looking at him, focused as always. Uraraka has a look tinged with sympathy on her face. Kirishima's expression is set in determination, a familiar look he's come to know from his student. "That responsibility extends to everyone you come across, regardless of their characteristics. That includes quirks, races, genders — but the most important category, the type of discrimination that's looked at the least of all of them, is mutations. Can anyone tell me why that is?"
Iida's hand shoots up near-immediately, so Shouta gestures at him to go on. "Mutations are the most visible indication of quirk possession, so it stands to reason discrimination against them would be common," his student recites.
"That's a good point," responds Shouta, "but that, in fact, is classified under quirk-based discrimination. Asui," he says suddenly, and she raises her head and straightens slightly when he turns his gaze on her.
"Yes, sensei? Kero."
"Your quirk is a mutant-type, also referred to in certain fields as a heteromorphic-type. That means you have a specific addition or alteration to your body that allows you to use — or, in your case, forms — your quirk. Ojirou, Shouji, Hagakure, you're the same."
The class's gazes all flick to the four he's mentioned, taking in their appearances. Shouta supposes it's easy to forget an extra tail is abnormal or complete transparency isn't standard when they all spend entire days on end around each other, but that's partly why he's holding this class. When it comes to new forms of mutation, their reaction needs to be exactly the same as it is to Asui's biology or Shouji's extra limbs.
"There are other forms of mutation that come under quirk-aligned, primarily when a quirk is not a mutant-type but causes a small amount of biological change regardless. Bakugou and Uraraka, both your hands are examples."
Both of them turn their palms up, Uraraka quickly, Bakugou less so. Shouta sees Hagakure twist back in her seat to see Bakugou's rough palms, and Iida readjust his glasses as he stares at the tips of Uraraka's fingers.
"If someone were to discriminate against any one of you because of your quirk-based appearance, that would constitute as prejudice down to a quirk," Shouta continues. "Acts like that aren't counted in the mutation discrimination statistics."
From across the classroom, Todoroki frowns and asks, "How many people have mutations that aren't… related to their quirk?"
Shouta nods at her. "That's an important question. What you're talking about are vestigial mutations. They don't make an impact on someone's quirk, nor are they caused by it. They're simply inherited from previous generations of quirk-users."
"Like Tokoyami!" Ashido chimes in. "Right?"
"Possibly," says Shouta, nodding along. "Tokoyami, is your mutation vestigial?"
His student inclines his head, looking out at the rest of them. "I inherited my appearance from my mother," he says, and leaves it at that.
"There you go. Tokoyami's Dark Shadow is neither helped nor hindered by the altered biology of his head, and it hasn't caused the mutation, so we classify it as a vestigial one."
"But how many mutations like that are there?" Todoroki repeats. "Is it common?"
Shouji looks over at the other boy's desk then, and, to Shouta's surprise, says, "Twenty-five percent of people."
Shouta raises his eyebrows. Shouji turns round, and they lock eyes before his student nods and looks down. "That's correct," he says, pressing on. "It's actually incredibly common. A lot of vestigial mutations have been passed down so often that they spread across Japan and begin to be seen as standard. Ashido, you're a good example."
She beams, and points both thumbs at herself. "Horns, baby!"
Kaminari yelps. "My hair! Right? I got the streak from my dad," he adds, shrugging.
Shouta nods at both of them. "Yes, you're both examples. In fact, Kouda — you are too. Satou, as well."
His quietest student lets out a noise of surprise then, pointing at himself. Shouta nods, and Kouda blushes slightly. Across the room Satou shrugs.
Kaminari grins widely and yells, "Useless mutation gang!"
Ashido cheers, and they lean over the space between their seats to high-five with a resounding slap.
"All your mutations happen to be quite small," says Shouta, "but there's a relatively accurate ratio of what we call major vestigial mutations in this class. Tokoyami, Ashido, Kouda, Satou, you all qualify, but Kaminari's mutation falls under the category of minor."
Kaminari's face falls. "Aw, man."
"Looks like you're getting kicked out of the gang," says Ashido, mock-sadly. She wipes an imaginary tear from her eye. Sero lets out a cackle from the row in front.
"When we look at Class 1-B, your counterpart," Shouta carries on, ignoring the way Kaminari slumps in his chair dramatically like he's been shot, "we can see a similar number. Bondo, Kanekiri, Tetsutetsu —"
"My bro!" cheers Kirishima, blessedly quietly.
"— Honenuki and Tsunotori all have changes classified as major. I've given this lecture to them already," adds Shouta, by way of explanation. "That's a proportion of twenty-five percent, like Shouji said, which reflects the national average. That means that one in four people you meet as heroes will likely have a significant mutation of some kind. Does that answer your question, Todoroki?"
Todoroki inclines his head.
"That's why this class is so important," Shouta tells them, and looks around the room to make sure they're all focusing. Even Mineta's eyes are on him, the ones most likely to drift away and stop paying attention. "Vestigial mutations are much more common than most realize, and you'll need to be able to ignore them and treat a possessor of such a mutation just the same as you would anyone without. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sensei!" his class say as one, and Shouta nods.
"Good," he says. "Nedzu will be holding a mandatory seminar-type session at some point in the future to discuss the wider strokes of discrimination during your careers as a whole, but I always try and give both hero classes this talk beforehand. It's an often-forgotten aspect of your equality training."
Yaoyorozu smiles at him. "Thank you, sensei! I'm sure we'll all keep it in mind."
"That's all I wanted to hear," says Shouta. "And, of course, I can't gloss over potentially the most important application of this knowledge."
He sees Bakugou's head raise at that, and thinks good.
"Can anyone guess what it might be?"
Midoriya raises a tentative hand. Shouta calls on him. "If… if we assume someone's appearance to be their quirk," he ventures, "it could be vestigial. And then — then we would be taken by surprise by their actual quirk."
Shouta nods to his words, and, when the problem child is done talking, addresses the class. "Midoriya is absolutely correct," he tells them. "Assuming a quirk is dangerous, and vestigial mutations make it that much more easy. Using Tokoyami and Kouda as our examples, again, many people would be biased when guessing their quirks to be bird-adjacent or rock-related respectively. In reality, that would be completely wrong."
"And twenty-five percent of people are the same," mutters Jirou.
"Exactly," confirms Shouta. His class watch him with new expressions, some frowning, some nodding along in clarity. He gives them a few seconds to process, and then clears his throat. "Now, let's get to whatever All Might left for me to cover."
He sifts through the papers in front of him, leafing through a couple physical copies of staff emails from Nedzu and a note from Nemuri about stopping stealing her food from the fridge. He laughs again mentally at that one; she's adamant she's not going to start labeling her boxes, but Shouta's promised her it's the only way he's going to stop. His fingers brush the words LESSON PLAN then, and he pulls out that sheet. Yagi's handwriting skitters across the page.
Battle trial? Better than last time.
Reminder: buy groceries milk, write up lesson plan to give to Aizawa
Shouta looks at the sheet for one second, another, and then scrunches it up into a little ball and drops it onto the lectern.
Good job, Yagi.
"On second thoughts," he says, "let's do some practice sparring."
- - -
It's Mezou's turn to patrol today. Aizawa has been taking them all out on afternoon patrols for the last few weeks, in pairs, and today is Mezou's turn. He was supposed to be paired with Aoyama, but the other boy developed a serious stomachache this morning and had to go to the infirmary. Recovery Girl reassured Mezou and Aizawa, sent them on their way, and now they are on the streets of Musutafu and walking their way around the assigned patrol circuit.
They've spent most of the time so far in silence, though comfortable. Mezou's aware he doesn't say a lot, especially when unprompted, and Aizawa seems content to just amble along and keep his eyes on the street. Mezou keeps his arms close to his back, aware of how odd they look on first glance, but ready to use at a moment's notice. They're going along a side road at the moment, past a cafe, past a comic store, past a supermarket, and that's when they see it.
There are two people standing beside each other in the supermarket, clear and stark through the windows. This would be inconsequential were it not for the fact that both of them are holding weapons, guns pointed at the other occupants currently on the floor and wide-eyed. Mezou sees it, and looks to his teacher.
"Trouble in the supermarket," he says, simply.
Aizawa looks over, visibly mentally assessing the risk, and then sighs. Mezou moves towards the store. Aizawa puts a hand out, and Mezou stops short.
"Let's look for their quirks, first," says Aizawa, and Mezou nods in response.
Inside, the first burglar yells something. Sparks shower out from his mouth. As he talks, the tiny winks of fire flare and burn around his lips.
"That one looks harmless," Aizawa murmurs, "but it's got potential to be destructive. Watch his mouth. What about the other one?"
The second robber's quirk is easy to figure out. His hair, unprotected by his mouth-covering mask, flashes and twists and changes color in rippling waves as they watch.
"Doesn't look harmful," Mezou says.
"But?"
Mezou thinks back to their lecture earlier, and adds, "It could be more than it seems."
"Right," confirms Aizawa. "It's unlikely, given its complexity, but be on your guard. Remember their firearms, too. I'll take the one in blue," his teacher says, gesturing towards the one with the wildly-changing hair, "and you handle black. Let me know as soon as you think things aren't going your way, understood?"
"Yes, sensei," says Mezou.
Aizawa nods at him, and then simultaneously they sprint towards the shop. Mezou's arms rise up and out, forming fists — he doesn't need sensory limbs for this — and Aizawa snaps his goggles down over his face, grabbing the weapon around his neck with both hands. They burst through the doorway and Aizawa's hair goes flying as Mezou zones in on Sparks.
The man shouts and spins to face him, light falling like glitter from between his teeth. Mezou lunges with six arms and hits him with a punch to the side, an uppercut to the torso, a right hook across the jaw, a slap to the wrist that twists it, the gun falling to the ground with a tinny crack — and then Sparks is howling and stumbling forward, fist rearing back. Flares of flame erupt from his mouth, but they're tiny and die quickly. His quirk is a showy one, not effective. Mezou jerks backwards, but not far enough, and Sparks jolts forward and catches him in the chin. There's a crack and Mezou feels the pressure release from his lower face — oh, god, he thinks.
His mask splits and shifts and half of it plummets to the ground. Mezou pushes the thumping warning from the back of his mind as Sparks freezes, eyes blowing wide as he stares at Mezou's exposed jaw, the thing that lies beneath his mask, and Mezou capitalizes. He lunges and rams forward, angling his shoulder, and it shoves into Sparks with a guttural grunt from the other man. Mezou keeps pushing his weight forward until Sparks is on the floor, and then Mezou is on top of him and his hands are pinned to the ground with two of Mezou's extra limbs anchoring them down. Sparks snarls.
"What the fuck?" he yells. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Mezou clamps his jaw shut, and looks over to Aizawa. Hair is already restrained within his capture weapon, gently struggling, and Aizawa's hair settles gently back down around his shoulders as he turns. Mezou waits for the inevitable.
Aizawa's eyes meet his, flick downwards, and then there's a sharp inhale from his teacher as he sees it. Mezou knows what he's looking at. His mouth itches for the mask to be back on, unused to cool air brushing against it. Aizawa blinks once, twice, and then their gazes lock again.
"Good work, Shouji," says Aizawa, and Mezou nearly rears back in surprise. That's not the reaction he's used to. "I've informed the authorities. We just have to wait for a little while."
Mezou nods, wordless as Aizawa sees him and looks past his jaw and keeps on interacting with him.
They stay there, Mezou restraining his opponent by weight and Aizawa by cloth, until the police arrive and escort them away. Mezou resolutely doesn't look at the officer, an anthropomorphic cat, as he cuffs Sparks and leads the man away, still yelling at Mezou. He stands up, turning around, and that's when he locks eyes with one of the witnesses required to remain. It's a tiny kid that looks about four or five, clutching his Edgeshot action figure to his chest. He sees Mezou, sees what's under his eyes, and screams, high and terrified and trembling.
Mezou freezes. The boy's mother hustles over instantly, shushing him without looking over at what her son is staring at, and he quietens down in her arms. Mezou's heart hammers. A hand lands on his shoulder, and then there's cloth in his arms. He looks down, and blinks. Aizawa's capture scarf is tangled around his wrists.
"Put it around your chin," Aizawa tells him, quietly.
Mezou feels a surge of gratitude wash over him, and he raises the scarf and wraps it around his jaw a few times until he's sure it's covering the entirety of his lower face. The eyes of the boy bore into Mezou's back as Aizawa steers him outside without a word, hand firm against his back. Nobody says anything as they leave.
The bell jingles merrily as they exit. There's a oddly-contrasting amount of dread in Mezou's chest, because Aizawa has seen. He lets go once they're outside.
"Your mask," says Aizawa, breaking the silence, and holds out a piece of cracked plastic.
Mezou takes it. "Thank you," he responds, quietly.
"I take it people don't see that often?"
Something ugly burns within his core, and Mezou swallows it back down to look Aizawa in the eye. "Almost never," he answers honestly, and Aizawa nods.
"That's why you knew the statistic earlier," he says. It's not quite a question. "You have an additional mutation. It's vestigial?"
Mezou inclines his head. His teacher exhales.
"People get scared," Mezou tells him, by way of explanation. "The mask… stops that."
Aizawa doesn't say anything for a few long seconds. "I understand," he says. "Have you had bad experiences before?"
Your face! says Kana-chan, in his mind. Mom, his face -
Mezou takes in a breath, and then nods again. "When I was a child. The others were scared of it." He leaves out the fact that Kana-chan had proceeded to tell everyone in his class just what she'd seen under his mask, the one time he dared to take it off and believe he was out of sight, and he was ostracized for the remainder of his middle school career.
Don't play with Mezou-kun, his face will eat you up -
Aizawa hums. "This is exactly why I run those lectures every year. Mutations like yours aren't nonexistent, though they are rare."
Mezou says, "I haven't seen another like… mine before."
"I have. Not many, but I have. There's a lot of prejudice against them." Aizawa's voice is level, flat, but there's a tinge to it that Mezou can identify as displeasure.
"You don't agree," Mezou says, in the same tone as Aizawa used to ask his not-quite-a-question.
"I'd be rather hypocritical if I were prejudiced against people in the same position as me, wouldn't I?" Aizawa asks rhetorically. Mezou frowns, and his teacher points to his hair. "My eye color is part of my quirk, but the way my hair floats is a hereditary effect passed down through my family. That mutation is a slightly rarer subset of the minor vestigial category, given it's directly linked to the use of my quirk, but it's still classed as one."
"I didn't know that," Mezou says.
Aizawa raises an eyebrow as if to say fair. "Not many people do. These kinds of things can be difficult to spot."
Mezou nods. He doesn't really know how to respond to this, to his teacher telling him he understands how Mezou feels. Truth be told, he's still processing Aizawa's calm, measured reaction to what currently lies under his own scarf.
"The point is, you're not abnormal for how you were born," Aizawa tells him. "You're not required to fit a mold to be allowed to participate in society any more than I, Tokoyami, or Kaminari are."
Mezou blinks. "I… thank you, Aizawa-sensei." Something loosens in his chest, a taut string he barely knew the existence of, and somehow he feels just slightly lighter at his teacher's words.
Aizawa reaches over, and places a hand on his shoulder again. Mezou looks at him. "If anyone ever treats you differently within UA because of that," he starts, eyes locked with Mezou's, dark and sure, "you come to me and I'll make sure they don't escape detention for a week."
"What about outside UA?" Mezou asks, tone light as he smiles slightly behind Aizawa's scarf.
Aizawa shrugs. "I can't give them detention, but I can make their life a lot worse than it was before they decided to judge you prematurely and unfairly."
Warmth blooms in his chest. "Thank you," Mezou tells him, trying to sound as grateful as he can.
Aizawa pats his shoulder, and removes his hand. There's understanding in his eyes, and Mezou knows he doesn't need to communicate to Aizawa that the simple, succinct reasoning is all he needs to feel better.
"Let's carry on. Patrol's not over yet," his teacher says, and makes no move to ask for his scarf back before he starts walking.
Head high, Mezou follows.