Work Text:
“Next week were doing some press training.” Aizawa announced and the class groaned in almost perfect unison.
Izuku dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes. From the looks of it the rest of the class were in the same state as him.
‘Press training’ they called it, but the students weren’t stupid. How was it training if the cameras were real? If the audiences watching at home were real? If this was the fifth time they’d done it this month?
It was the same every time, they’d be asked a question, they’d smile, say everything was fine, and they’d leave. Whichever student was highlighted was whichever one was attacked last.
The league of villains had been attacking more relentlessly recently, and it was clear the public had noticed. UA was getting more bad press then they’d had in years. And the public was calling for the students to respond, to ask for their opinion.
The common room that night was lively, Ashido passing around a bottle of something Izuku didn’t recognise but he drank it anyways. It burned on the way down and he knew it was more alcohol than anything mixed in. He didn’t care, and no one else seemed to either.
“Who do you think will have to speak this time?” Kaminari asked after he took a swig of the mystery liquid and Kirishima shrugged. They all knew, it was never really a secret.
Iida was the one who figured it out after the third interview, though it should’ve been obvious. Really, they all knew, but no one wanted to admit it.
Bakugou was interviewed after his kidnapping. Uraraka was interviewed after her run in with Toga. Todoroki was interviewed when news about Dabi came out.
By now, deep into their second year, they’d all had a turn or two. Usually regarding the same villains for each of them as if they had their own personal nemesis or some bullshit.
Izuku didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He took another mouthful when Iida said his name.
“Is your arm healing, okay?” Uraraka asked him as he handed over the bottle and he nodded. It was still in a sling, but it didn’t hurt too badly anymore.
If every one of them had their own personal villains, then Izuku felt like he’d picked the short straw. Sure, none of them had it easy. Who was he to say that ‘his’ villain was worse than everyone else’s.
But fuck, did disintegration hurt.
Uraraka nodded sympathetically, she understood why he didn’t feel like talking. They all did. A new drink was passed around, this one much sweeter. Technically they were only sixteen, they shouldn’t be drinking, and they risked losing their position in class if they were caught. But they shouldn’t be attacked like pro-heroes either, so who was paying attention.
And Izuku wasn’t so sure losing his spot in class was such a bad thing anymore.
“Do you know what they’re going to ask you Midoriya?” Shinsou asked from across the room. Uraraka made a signal for him to shut up, but Izuku didn’t mind. He’d have to go over it tomorrow anyways, they all would.
He sipped the sweet drink and sighed. “How I feel about Shigaraki’s latest attack. How my injuries are healing. The usual.”
Hitoshi nodded. That was it. That was all they did anymore.
Training wasn’t about learning to be heroes, it was about training in case of a fight tomorrow. Classes weren’t about getting an education; they were about distracting students from the relentless trauma of existing. At least that’s how he saw it.
Izuku was tired, he probably shouldn’t be drinking, he’s so hoped up on painkillers he can’t feel his fingers. But he can’t bring himself to care.
“Is it bad that I don’t want to do another interview?” Tsuyu asked and a few people laughed. They all felt the same, that’s why they were here, getting drunk at sixteen on a school night.
“If I never had to stand in front of a camera again it’d be too soon.” Todoroki joked and Shinsou mimed clinking a glass with him in cheers.
Iida walked in from the kitchen, Izuku assumes he went to get snacks, but he hadn’t noticed his absence. “Just a reminder guys, trainings starting at five tomorrow instead of six.” The class groaned again, and Iida nodded in sympathy.
It was like training got earlier every day. Izuku had already decided he was missing it. he didn’t care if All Might came knocking on his door himself. Next time he could fight Shigaraki and then they’d talk.
His relationship with everyone felt so estranged nowadays. Everyone but his classmates. They were the only ones who understood the bone-numbing exhaustion that fighting for you life before finishing puberty gave you.
Sure, their teachers were pro-heroes, but they actually had time to prepare. Class 1A was given a single week before everything went to shit.
Someone was crying in the corner, probably Hagakure, she was an emotional drunk. Soon enough Uraraka was sniffling too, and Aoyama didn’t seem too far behind her. It happened from time to time, the sudden tears that they couldn’t control.
Izuku didn’t feel like crying. He didn’t think he could if he tried. His mind was spinning slightly, though he didn’t remember drinking that much. It was probably from the drugs. He felt angry, annoyed at what UA was making him do.
Two weeks ago, Shigaraki found him in the mall, again. Izuku didn’t want to fight, and when Shigaraki raised his hand Izuku almost let it happen. But he couldn’t, so he fought back. he’d had an interview three days later.
Now only two days ago Shigaraki and Dabi had cornered him in an alley when he was visiting his mother. There were no civilians, no witnesses, no help. He didn’t want to fight.
That’s how his arm was injured, he hadn’t reacted in time because he hadn’t wanted to. But then someone at the end of the alley had screamed, and Dabi had turned to see them, and Izuku had to stop them.
So twice in a row he was the one at the fore front of the public’s eyes.
He blinked and suddenly he wasn’t in the common room. He was standing in a hallway, only one room actually in use on this floor. It was Aizawa’s room, and he could only vaguely remember making the trek up there.
He knocked, and a few moments later Aizawa opened the door.
“Midoriya? Its almost midnight, what are you doing?” Aizawa was standing there, dressed in his pyjamas and looking like he was marking their papers. He didn’t seem anymore stressed then he did usually.
Izuku was almost jealous.
He didn’t answer Aizawa, not really, the anger and annoyance was bubbling inside of him and he felt like lava was spilling down his spine.
“I can’t do it sir, talk to the press, I don’t want to.” He couldn’t tell if the anger showed when he spoke but if it did Aizawa didn’t seem to notice.
He had a soft look in his eyes and as much as Izuku wanted to think he understood, he didn’t.
“it’s alright Midoriya, you’ve done this before. It won’t be any different.”
Izuku wanted to scream, Aizawa looked like he wanted to sleep.
“That’s the problem sir. I can’t keep doing the same thing every fucking week. Do you even know what the class is doing right now? How we’re reacting to the thought of these interviews?”
He wasn’t getting it, even now.
Or maybe he was. There was an open bottle of wine Izuku could see on the counter behind the man. Maybe he was doing the best he could within his role as their teacher.
But he wasn’t their teacher, not at this point. It had been so long since their parents had any real say in their lives, even at sixteen. Aizawa was the closest they had, but he was acting like their teacher when they needed more from him.
Speaking to him was useless. At least like this, at this time.
Izuku needed them to see that the class wasn’t okay. But how was he supposed to show them that when they already knew?
When weren’t they stopping it anyways?
Izuku didn’t hear Aizawa’s response before he left.
Back downstairs someone had started smoking something. He couldn’t really tell what it was, but he took a hit anyways. And then he went to bed.
He didn’t wake up for training the next day.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The day of the interview was a blur. The hours before hand, the rehearsing, the ‘training’. They’d done it so many times before he didn’t know why they bothered anymore.
Maybe that was why he missed the new update, because it was so rare that anything was different.
Soon enough he was standing in front of the camera, listening as they asked if he was okay. He wasn’t supposed to smile, not like he was happy, because then it seemed fake.
“Deku, you got injured in your recent battle against the league, how are you healing?” they asked, and he gave a small, gentle smile. As if he was thanking them for their concern.
“Pretty well, the sling should be off within the next few days.”
“You were attacked by both Dabi and Shigaraki whilst off campus, correct? Did it seem like a planned attack?” stop smiling, they’re asking if someone planned to murder you, you don’t smile at something like that.
Look reserved, upset but like you’re coping. It was such a fine line.
“I’m not sure I can really know that. For all I know it could’ve been bad timing.” Give a small laugh, like it’s a joke. But it’s not, not really. Not with how calculating and cruel their eyes always seem.
But a planned attack means they know his schedule, and that looks worse to UA then an accident.
Soon enough a question was directed at someone else and the interview continued. Today it was Izuku, Uraraka, Tsuyu and Kaminari that had been chosen to answer questions. They’d done a few as a whole class but they were rare.
He didn’t know how long passed as he acted like he was told, a comforting hand on Uraraka’s shoulder, nodding in response to his friend’s answers. Like he was listening to the questions at all.
He’s pretty sure it was the final question that caught him off guard. One directed at Tsuyu, he hadn’t really heard it, but he’d seen the look on her face.
They were taught to control their facial reactions but sometimes it was hard. For a moment she seemed taken aback, so Izuku turned to Uraraka who seemed annoyed. She wasn’t showing it, but he could tell.
“What did they ask?” Tsuyu wasn’t talking yet, and they were allowed to whisper to each other from time to time. Made it seem less planned or something.
“They asked if she’s still going to become a hero, since the public has been noticing her struggling.” Uraraka’s tone was angry, and It made Izuku angry as well.
They’d been fighting for their lives for over a year and now they were questioning their ability to be a hero? Yes, they’ve been struggling, but they’re still there and if they want to leave its up to them. Not the media.
Tsuyu opened her mouth to respond, like they’d been trained to. Like they’ve practiced almost every day since these stupid interviews started. And suddenly it was like Izuku had never had a lesson at all.
“I’m sorry,” he cut in, a camera turning to focus on him instantly. He hardly acknowledged it. “she’s not answering that.”
Tsuyu looked confused but also relieved, so Izuku didn’t dare back down. Not when Aizawa’s eyes found him in the crowd, the concern obvious. But Izuku didn’t know if it was concern for their wellbeing or the interview, so he didn’t care.
“Sorry Deku is there a problem?” the interviewer asked, and Izuku couldn’t read what he was thinking.
“Why did you ask Froppy that, and not me or Chargerbolt?” he pressed further, stepping out of the lineup they’d been in the entire interview. He stood in front of the others, as if he was protecting them, because he would. Now.
They couldn’t do this anymore.
“I mean no offence; I’m only commenting on some footage found of Froppy after a battle. She seemed distressed-“
“Yeah, she probably was.” Izuku cut him off. “She had just fought for her life, and the lives of everyone around her. That’s pretty distressing.”
The interviewer smiled gently, as if trying to placate a child. But Izuku wasn’t a child anymore. “I understand that Deku, but some rumours are beginning to spread and we simply wanted to clarify.”
Izuku shrugged, crossing his arms. He remembers vaguely being told not to do that, something about body language. He didn’t care.
“I don’t care. Yes, she was distressed, just like I was when I had my arm disintegrated by Shigaraki, just like I was when I saved a six-year-old from the yakuza. Just like we all were when we were attacked every time we were promised we were safe. But you’re not asking anyone else.”
The interviewer went to speak and Izuku looked at the crowd. Aizawa was standing now, like he wanted to intervene. But he didn’t. and he nodded.
“We’re hero students. Not pros.” Izuku interrupted again. “We shouldn’t have to fight for our lives before we graduate. But here we are. I could care less about what the public thinks about UA’s methods right now. If we want to dropout, we will. and it will be none of your business.”
Uraraka gripped his arm, not to stop him but to help. “We’re done with these interviews. If you have concerns ask Nezu, not us.” He turned to move off stage and the others followed. They didn’t hesitate, they didn’t argue.
“Deku, please, I’m sorry if we offended you, we had no intention-“ Izuku stopped and turned around. The other finished leaving but Izuku walked back to the microphones.
“I was scared for my life less than two weeks ago. I didn’t know if I was going to live long enough to do another one of these stupid interviews. But I lived, and not even two days later I was told that I would be, that I would have to defend this prestigious school and tell the world that it’s not their fault I was almost killed, again.
“So don’t ask Froppy if she still wants to be a hero because she seemed a little distressed. She’s sixteen, and she almost died. I’d like to see you look level-headed after something like that.”
The interviewer seemed at a loss for words, and Izuku could see the camera focused entirely on his face. So, he turned to face it directly.
“Don’t ask for another interview. We’re not here to smile and look pretty so that you can convince yourself that the hero systems working just fine.” He turned and walked away again. “Find your own way to cope.” He muttered as he left, not knowing or caring if they caught it at all.
When he walked off stage and found his class they hugged him, and he felt like crying. But he didn’t, and when Tsuyu thanked him with tears in her eyes, he hugged her back and told her she was fine. They were fine.
And when they drank that night, it was in their own sought of sick celebration.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The new information that he’d missed ahead of time was that the interview was live. Sure, they’d done a few of them before but normally it’s never a problem. This time it was, UA hadn’t exactly expected him to lose his shit for once.
All that really meant was that they didn’t get a chance to filter out any of the mess he’d caused, and they couldn’t hide it. UA was in more shit now then they had been in before. Not that Izuku cared.
He did care however about the fact that he was trending. His face and his words were all anyone would talk about. He had twice as many eyes on him as usual and he didn’t appreciate it.
But when Aizawa announced, with a slight grin, that they wouldn’t be doing anymore interviews it felt like they could finally breath again. Suddenly they felt like students, and even if the villain attacks didn’t stop it was still a little easier to cope.
When the class had left Aizawa asked Izuku to stay behind. He didn’t know what to expect when the man came to stand in front of him, but he didn’t look away.
“I’m sorry, that I didn’t see how much you were all struggling. I was trying to manage it with Nezu, and I didn’t think to check in with how you were feeling.”
Izuku nodded but Aizawa wasn’t done. “you’ve created a real shitshow kid. But its okay, every hero has to have at least one.”
He rested his hand on Izuku’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, and Izuku smiled.
At the end of the day the first photo found when anyone looked into the mess wasn’t just of Izuku. It was of him, standing in front of his friends with Uraraka’s arm on his shoulder. It was him protecting his family and them supporting him.
And he couldn’t really be mad about that.