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“A workshop?”
Indeed, a workshop. Aizawa had told that class that morning in homeroom, roughly around 9 a.m, however, had decided it was amusing to keep the speaker a secret, much to the class’s upset. The star of the show had been discussed throughout the day in a series of hushed utterances from the next generation of heroes, particularly Izuku. He was partly convinced it was going to be All Might, considering the guy hadn’t really taught the class anything useful yet, but another classmate thought differently.
“It’ll be Vlad King, for sure!” said Reader , clenching his fist excitedly, “If we’re guessing our all time favourite heroes, then I think it’ll be him!”
Izuku nodded, “I would’ve guessed he was your favourite, Reader ,” he said, touching the Reader’s shoulder, “You like the ones with the occult-y Quirks, isn’t that right?”
Reader nodded and stood up from his desk, politely pushing Izuku’s hand off him, “Right,” he began to pack away his Period Two class materials into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, “It makes me feel better about mine, y’know?”
And with that, the pair met their friends for a quick break before the mid-morning classes. Iida and Uraraka were already sitting by the group’s regular tree, accompanied by the shedding, beryl leaves; Uraraka telling Iida about a song she discovered the night before, whilst he quietly worked on some sort of homework assignment, tuning out her voice. Yet, he seemed that more attentive when the Reader sat beside him.
That was something the students of Class 1-A had noticed over the past few weeks, yet nobody dared to even mention it, lest they face the consequences of pissing off their class rep. Him, and Reader , the greatest mystery in the world… In the eyes of his classmates at least. They couldn’t even get information about the guy’s family out of him, so there was a general consensus that he wouldn’t exactly be so open about his love life. Or evidently his lack-thereof.
Fleeting glances, longer touches, sitting way too close to actually be considered ‘just friends’, and most important… Iida didn’t seem so stiff anymore.
Suddenly, it was the afternoon and time for the hero class. Instead of filing into the changing rooms, the uniform-clad heroes assembled on the field, awaiting their sleepy teacher, who lay sideways in his yellow sleeping bag and sighed when he saw the students approach.
“Hiya, everyone,” he grumbled, shedding his body of the fabric before shuffling to greet 1-A, “Let’s hurry up and get this workshop started.”
Reader and Iida stood shoulder to shoulder, the smooth fabric of their blazers softly brushing against each other. As they stood united, a powerful silence enveloped them and their classmates. All eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding before them: a hero, shrouded in a mysterious black cloak, was steadily making their way towards Aizawa. The air was charged with anticipation as the unknown figure closed the distance, casting an aura of intrigue over the entire group. He, in turn, groaned, “Can you quit with the theatrics?”
The cloak was disregarded.
“Hydroboil…”
Iida gasped in excitement, “It’s her!” he muttered, turning to face Reader , “She’s an exemplary hero, Reader , this is going to be informative and helpful!”
Utterances of excitement were shared among the twenty other students as Hydroboil gushed over the attention. She was tall, and lithe and her costume exposed merely her wrists as she waved, smiling as she did so, her eyes darting between each individual student.
Reader's body tensed up, every muscle tightening like steel as he gazed intently at the figure before him. Despite his unwavering stare, there was a realisation gradually dawning upon him - there was no hero in front of him… No hero at all.
“Hiya, 1-A!” she yelled leaping forward, “I’m Hydroboil, if you didn’t know! My Quirk is that I can shoot boiling hot water from my wrists!”
As she gave the class a rundown of her Quirk, Iida noticed that the Reader was just staring. But it wasn’t in amazement, excitement, or anything of a positive nature. He gently elbowed Reader , “Are you alright? Is she your least favourite hero?”
Reader shook his head and crossed his arms, covering his mouth with his right hand as he mumbled, “Something like that.”
Hydroboil had 1-A stand in a circle surrounding her. She took no notice of Reader as he reluctantly took a spot and stared at her again, this time his eyes hardened and to Iida, it looked like he was trying to shoot a laser at her. Again, he elbowed him and whispered about the importance of this workshop, even if he wasn’t particularly fond of the hero conducting it.
“Alrighty then!” Hydroboil yelled, “To begin this, I want to know your name and Quirk, so I can gauge the potential of this class!”
The moment she began her enthusiastic evaluation, her attention was captivated by Todoroki, effusively praising his powerful Quirk as soon as he had a chance to showcase it. Moving in a clockwise direction around the group, she continued to celebrate each student for their unique abilities and talents, her focus shifting until it finally settled on Reader .
“How about you, young man?” she asked, crossing her arms, smile never faltering, “What’s your name? And your Quirk, tell me everything!”
Reader rolled his eyes and shifted his weight onto his left foot as he glared at her, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Shiori?”
The atmosphere in the classroom turned tense as Hydroboil arched her eyebrow, prompting a collective gasp from the students. Iida, usually gentle, forcefully nudged Reader with his elbow, a stark contrast to his usual playful shoves. The palpable tension spread throughout the room as every member of 1-A held their breath, bracing for what would come next.
“ Hey !” Iida yelled, “if Hydroboil isn’t your favourite hero, that is no excuse to behave so disrespectfully! Calling her by her given name! The disrespect is surprising coming from you”
“No…” said Hydroboil, stepping closer, and leaning down to meet the Reader’s hardened gaze, “This isn’t an issue of this young man not liking me as a hero, that much I can tell,” she mused. She dipped her hand and lifted Reader’s chin with her finger, “What’s your deal, kid? I just want to know what your Quirk is!”
He quickly slapped her hand away, earning another yell of protest from Iida. The class was confused. They’d never seen Reader this… Nonchalantly irreverent before. His eyes narrowed with disdain.
“You didn’t want to know then,” he spat, folding his arms over his rest, resuming his original position, “No point in telling now, is there? It’s still as worthless as you said it was.”
Then, without warning, and much to the surprise of Hydroboil and the class, Iida leapt forward and took a hold of Reader’s collar in an iron-like grip, crying out, “I cannot allow this any longer! Such an esteemed hero, subjected to such disrespectful treatment from you!”
Everyone was bewildered. It was as if a switch had been flipped; Iida and Reader seemed much more like rivals, or even enemies now. It was weird. Extremely weird. Still, Iida continued, his body pressed tightly against Reader’s .
“You want to be a hero so badly?” he yelled, nose bumping against his counterparts, “Then how about you get over yourself? This prideful behaviour… coming from you? I looked up to you as a classmate and friend, yet this is how you treat a pro hero?”
Reader , who had been silent for this monologue, shoved Iida aside, boring into him with an icy glare, “No,” he rasped, pointing an accusatory finger at Hydroboil, “It’s how I treat the woman who decided that I wasn’t worth anything! That I was a nothing!”
Iida fired back, “What did she do?! Did she forget to give you an autograph or something? Are you really that petty? And I thought so highly of you.”
Reader stepped back, tears welling in his eyes and allowing his head to drop, “She’s my mother, you fucking asshole.” he glanced back up at Iida’s widened eyes, ignorant to his classmates shocked gasps, “She abandoned me because my Quirk wasn’t good enough… That I ,” he banged his chest with his fist, “...wasn’t good enough. That I might've as well been Quirkless.”
Hydroboil gasped, covering her mouth, the pieces falling into place, “ Reader?… You look… so different… You actually got into the hero course? But how?”
Reader turned his back, “Nine years changes a lot, Mom. But I'm glad to see you didn’t change one bit. Still the same selfish shithead you’ve always been.”
He turned on his heel to face Hydroboil, “For the record, Dad still hates you.”
It was safe to say that the workshop had been cancelled.
It was around 7 p.m when the students of Class 1-A had gathered in the common room, the weight of the events of the day still hung heavy in the air. Particularly so, because Reader hadn’t come out from his dorm room. And nobody was really talking to Iida… It was some show he had made of himself.
He had kept to himself for most of the day, and in the evening time, he was reading ‘The Devil’s Flute Murders’: the book Reader had suggested to him a while back. He was just getting to the seance before Uraraka and Izuku appeared beside him. He could practically feel their negative aura smother him as they approached.
Uraraka slid into the seat next to him and pried the book out of his hands, “You know distracting yourself with a book isn’t going to fix the problem, right?”
Iida sighed, crossing one leg over the other and pushing his glasses up his nose bridge, “If you two are here to lecture me, then you can leave me be. I already understand the gravity of what I’ve done.”
“I’m not sure you do, Iida.” Izuku perched on the arm of the sofa. Iida, now trapped between the two, scoffed. Izuku continued, “You need to apologise to Reader . He hasn’t come out for dinner and I’m really worried about him.”
“Besides,” Uraraka placed her hand on Iida’s shoulder, “I know you two like each other. You stand absolutely no chance at anything if you don’t go and say you’re sorry. Because I know you’re sorry, Deku knows you’re sorry, but I’m guessing that Reader doesn’t.”
Lurching forward, Iida met Urarak’s eyes with his beet red face, “How did you know?!” he hissed.
She stood up and grabbed Izuku’s wrist, “You’re so obvious, Iida. We’re going to go now. Apologise.”
Having mustered his courage, Iida made his way to Reader's dormitory after approximately twenty minutes. Standing outside the door, he hesitated with his hand poised to knock. Unsure and hesitant, a wave of doubt washed over him. Could he truly go through with this? Was he prepared to confront Reader in person?
Throwing caution to the wind, he rapped insistently on the door with determination. Initially met with a wall of silence, undeterred, he paused briefly and repeated the urgent knocks. In response to his persistence, muffled sounds of annoyance and a solid thud reverberated from the other side before the handle twisted, and the door was flung open abruptly.
Reader stood before him, with hair tousled and eyes swollen from crying. This dishevelled appearance pained Iida deeply. It was especially difficult for him to witness Reader in such a state because it was a rare occurrence. In fact, besides the earlier instance, it was one of the few times Iida had ever seen Reader even slightly distressed.
“What do you want?” he spat, pulling at his white, baggy sleep shirt.
Iida stuttered out, “May I- May I come in?”
Rolling his eyes, Reader stepped aside and allowed Iida to enter his bedroom. It was just as plain as Iida anticipated: he hadn’t been in Reader’s room yet. There were a few books littered around his room, one with a particular orange cover stood out to Iida. Upon seeing it, he realised he’d left his copy in the common room.
“You’re rereading ‘The Devil’s Flute Murders’,” he stated, “I’m on chapter four. It’s quite an intriguing novel, I must say.”
“Iida,” said Reader , sitting on the edge of his bed and curling into himself, his voice cracking as he spoke, “Just say what you want and get out. I’m not in the mood to deal with you right now.”
Iida felt a pang of guilt, hesitating before he finally sat beside Reader , his fists clenched as he stared at his knees. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He knew full well how to apologise to somebody, so why was this time so difficult?
“I-” he started, unable to formulate what he wanted to say, “I was too harsh on you. I should have been more empathetic regarding your situation.”
Reader simply nodded, his silence urging Iida to continue, “I felt so angry because I thought about if it had been my brother, or Professor Aizawa, or even All Might up there, being mocked and humiliated. Had I known your situation, I would never have done what I did.”
Sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Reader met Iida’s solemn expression, “I never wanted anyone to find out that Hydroboil is my mother. The public only knows about my younger brother… The one with the flashy Quirk.”
Iida shuffled closer to Reader , wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s frame, “I hope I’m not pushing past a boundary by embracing you,” he said, “I’m no good at comforting people with my words, you see.”
“Iida,” started Reader , pushing himself away from the hug, “You hurt me. You humiliated me. What makes you think I want you to touch me?”
Iida shook his head and sighed, removing his arms and placing his hands on his lap. He was about to apologise again, until Reader cut him off.
“My mom left when I was seven,” he said, staring at the floor, “She sent me to live with my dad because at the time, my Quirk had only manifested into seeing the dead- none of that astral projection shit I can do now.”
He paused and took a deep, shaky breath. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Iida listening so intently, his eyes soft and fixated on his shorter figure.
“I don’t like to talk about this much,” Reader continued, “Which is why I’m so… secretive, I guess, about my life. I know our classmates think I’m weird for this, but I’m not exactly sure how thrilled they’d be if they were to learn my own mother abandoned me because she didn’t think I was hero material, and that she had a ‘do-over’ baby to compensate for my failures. But you know what I really want, Iida?”
Iida remained silent but shook his head, “I want to beat her in a fight. I want to pull her consciousness in and out of her own body until she’s all dizzy and disorientated, like how I did to Bakugou on the first day of school. And when she tries to fight back, I want to show her how I can make her shitty hot water phase right through me.”
By this time, hot, salty tears were streaming down his face as he trembled with the force of a thousand earthquakes, “And maybe… Just maybe… She’ll look me in the eyes and tell me she’s sorry… And tell Dad she’s sorry.”
Iida mumbled quietly in return, "I understand how you feel... About having to live up to an expectation, or in your case... To surpass it."
He dropped his head, "With my brother being a great hero, there's a lot of pressure on me to continue the family business, much like with your mother. However, I could never match the gravity of your situation, I mean abandonment, that's simply villainous and you should have justice."
When he noticed that Reader wasn't saying anything, Iida placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Your father?” he said quietly, “You mentioned him earlier.”
Reader nodded, “He died two years ago. Some crazy kids thought our house was abandoned so they decided to set it on fire. He died, alongside the memories of a happy life.”
He looked up at Iida, “I still talk to him. His spirit hasn’t passed to the next life, so even though he can’t hug me, it isn’t exactly like he’s gone forever.”
Iida, in a flash of bravado, abandoned his seat on the bed and kneeled in front of Reader , disregarding the hot, bullet-like, tears that punctuated his cheek. Hands clasped in incandescent prayer, he said, “I feel so honoured that you would share this with me, despite the cruelty I showed to you. Can you ever find it in you to forgive me?”
Reader jumped, pulling his legs into his chest, “You’re freaking me out, man! Why’d you have to be so formal?! I would’ve been fine with a regular apology!”
Standing up, Iida pushed his glasses up his nose bridge before sitting down, “My apologies..” he muttered, “I got a bit carried away.”
“Iida, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” Iida scooted close to Reader , their arms brushing against each other as he spoke.
“Does this,” he paused, “The things I’ve shared… Does it change things? Between us, I mean?”
Iida nodded his head, “It does.”
Reader queried his brow, heart pounding in his chest, “In a bad way?”
“On the contrary,” Iida said, grabbing Reader’s hand, “If it is correct to assume you have forgiven my earlier behaviour, I believe this has brought us closer together, and it has deepened the feelings I harbour towards you,” he paused, mouth agape, “And I said that last part aloud… Didn’t I?”
Reader nodded slowly, his eyes wide and his cheeks tear stained, “Yeah, uh… You did.”
Sighing, Iida squeezed Reader ’s hand, “You were bound to find out eventually… Uraraka said I was obvious, hey!-”
He was cut off by being pulled into a chaste kiss by the collar of his polo shirt. However, he didn't fight it. It was unlike him, but he gave in and cupped the back of Reader’s neck, hands finding purchase in the scuffy colour hair. The kiss was sweet, but after a while, Iida could feel Reader begin to tremble against his lips, the dots only connecting when he felt more tears fall onto his face. Quickly, Iida pulled away and was met with the sight of Reader quietly sobbing, occasionally exploring the idea of the hiccuping sound as he gasped and heaved.
Iida could say nothing except pull Reader into his chest and kiss the crown of his head. He held the shorter boy as he cried, nestling his head into the crook of his neck and squeezing him tightly.
“I’ve got you, Reader .”
“Thank you, Tenya.”