Work Text:
The next day, Shouta noticed something different about Midoriya’s shoes. Some of the threads had been torn and stretched slightly. If he had to guess, the problem child had tried his hand at embroidery. It was heartwarming that he was trying to have a go, but clearly he needed to learn a thing or two about asking for help. More noticeable, however, was that his laces from the previous day had been replaced with black ones. That nearly brought a smile to Shota’s face.
Nonetheless, he contained himself and went about teaching the lesson as usual. Meaning, he explained the assignment, handed out worksheets and wrapped himself up in his sleeping bag for a midday nap. It gave him time to reflect on the events of the day before.
After his conversation with Midoriya he’d focussed on making a list with Nezu of the people whose behaviour towards him had changed when he was wearing his red shoes, and then later bragging about the Discord server to his sister and Hizashi. Now that he had time to think about it more in depth though, a lot of pieces of information about Midoriya were falling into place. How little control over his quirk he had, how long it took him to treat his powers as an extension of himself, instead of a tool to be used.
Until now, Shota had assumed that the boy's lack of practice in using his power was because of how self-destructive it was. But with this new information, the teaching staff would know to provide better accommodations for his training. Maybe The Empty Chairs could put him in contact with other Hero students facing the same challenges as him so he’d know what to ask for. Though, that led him down a much different line of thinking.
Shota had known that not everyone was aware of The Empty Chairs. Hell, he’d been the person who introduced a lot of adults to it in the first place. But to learn that there was an entire Discord server of kids the same age as Midoriya, looking for a quirkless community but unaware of the one that had already existed, surprised him. Part of him wondered if this new generation was just too different for him to understand, but he quickly discarded that idea. If he started thinking like that he’d be no better than his grandparents, stuck in their ways.
Maybe that was it. Maybe his experiences growing up without such an abundance of technology and before the explosion of social media had given him a warped perspective. A perspective that was no longer compatible with the experiences of quirkless kids today. The idea unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite describe. It was like a fear of being unable to reach out to and connect with the people around him. He’d have to make a note to ask his sisters about it.