Chapter Text
“Mr Aizawa?”
If there was one thing that Shouta Aizawa valued ore than anything, it was peace. Specifically, his own peace. Unfortunately, he had a profession that allowed little of that, even during class breaks. He cracked an eye open, lazily looking up at whoever was disturbing his cat nap.
“Could we talk after class today? I need some, uh...help with something,” said Jirou Kyouka, looking down at her feet.
As it turns out, inner peace was a close second to his students’ well-being, although he would never tell them that.
“Sure thing. Meet me here at 6 PM sharp,” he said, shuffling out of his sleeping bag.
“Thank you,” she replied, not meeting his eyes as she went back to her seat. He raised an eyebrow at that, but decided to resume class and deal with it later.
While the students had reached their second year of high school at UA, Eraserhead was still their homeroom teacher. He had been given the option to switch classes, but chose to say with the energetic class. Officially, he declared that it would be too much of a hassle to deal with a new group. Officiously, he wanted to see these kids’ training through to the end. Despite how exhausting they were, it was entertaining to teach them and very rewarding.
Once his class was over – Hero PR, ironically – he sent them off to the USJ for practical training with All Might, or Mr. Yagi as he preferred to be called these days. Truth be told Aizawa pitied him. He knew it was an ugly emotion, but he couldn’t imagine the kind of struggles Yagi was dealing with. He still had the heart of a hero and thus could keep teaching, no doubt about that, but he couldn’t be All Might in the flesh. Being with a group of young, able-bodied heroes in training had to make him envious on some level. So while he asked to be called Mr. Yagi to move away from heroic persona, he was still teaching at his old school.
Still, Aizawa let him be on that subject. He wasn’t really in a position to talk about healthy coping mechanisms.
Packing up his sleeping bag, he looked at his watch. 4PM, plenty of time to take a quality nap. Or coffee, or both. Arriving at the teachers’ lounge – which was thankfully empty - his mind drifted away as he ran through the motions of making himself a cup.
He thought about what Jirou might ask him, and why she looked so nervous. He knew that beneath her aloof attitude was a hesitant young girl, similar to how he was back in the day. Strong, sure, but there was definitely something beneath the surface. Definitely more sociable though. Maybe it was something to do with wanting to be a hero? She had mentioned in some guidance classes that she used to be torn between hero work and a career in music, to follow in her parents’ footsteps. He couldn’t relate, since he always knew he wanted to be a hero despite his quirk, but he could understand the idea of questioning your choices. Plus he wasn’t especially close to his parents.
She was starting her second year though, so that could be a source of worries. Had something happened during the holidays? That was entirely possible. Whatever it was, he would listen and try to help as much as he could. Just as long as it wasn’t about...girl things. Or boys. Eugh.
Once his cup was ready, he shuffled over to the couch and lay down sideways, pulling out his phone and starting a well-deserved break of his own with a compilation of pouncing cats. Those big eyes and little butt wiggles always made him smile.
***********
He sat by the teacher’s podium, having borrowed once of the desks’ chairs, waiting for Jirou to show up. He had neither cups nor cats to distract him, this time just choosing to do nothing and exist in the moment. The class was bathed in orange light from the setting sun outside, and he decided to enjoy this tranquil atmosphere while he could. Not that dealing with Jirou was difficult – unlike kids such as Bakugo or Midoriya, eugh – but having this classroom quiet was a rare treat.
He was looking at his watch when he heard footsteps coming from the hallway.
5 minutes early, good.
He had left the door open, so she came in after he nodded.
“Take a seat and take your time, we’ll start talking when you’re ready. You seemed a little nervous earlier, so...”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine now. More than fine, actually,” she said, leaning forward in her seat and clasping her hands together.
“Good. Okay, let’s hear it then,” he said, crossing his arms. Looks like this was going to be easy after all.
She stared him in the eyes for a few seconds, something that surprised him since his students rarely looked at him straight on, before speaking.
“I think you’re hot, and I like you, Mr Aizawa.”
…
…
What.
He blinked at her, hard, processing what she had said before slowly leaning back in his seat, almost tipping the front legs up. Several thoughts ran though his head very fast. For a split second he thought that was something wrong with his coffee, or that he needed to sleep more, but she had spoken too directly for it to be a mistake.
She hadn’t moved, still staring him in the eyes and blinking slowly. She was even smiling now, a soft little smile, brushing her hair behind her ears. The classroom didn’t have the same kind of quiet atmosphere anymore. He had the same feeling as when he was interrogating criminals for the police.
Might as well go with that.
“Interesting,” he said after a moment, deadpan and not moving an inch. “You know that there’s no way this is happening, right? Students and teachers can’t have a relationship.”
There, that should do it.
“I know, but I never said anything about dating, now did I?” she replied, crossing her arms and still smiling.
...Or not. What the hell is this?
“...You know this is highly inappropriate, right? I’m what, twice your age?”
“I know. And no, you’re actually 15 years older than me. Good to know, by the way,” she said, now smirking.
“And?”
“And that means when I’m 21, you’re going to be 35. That sounds pretty good, right? Or even better, when I’m 25...” she replied, letting the meaning hang in the air. She had crossed her legs, looking like she was hugging herself as she looked at him.
“...You’ve obviously thought about this,” he said slowly, his eyes darting to check for a phone or recording device on her, and listening for students in the corridor.
He was deeply uncomfortable, to say the least. Not just because of her attitude, but because he was utterly baffled by this situation. He quickly checked to see if Hagakure was somewhere in the classroom, hoping this was a terrible prank.
“My parents taught me to just go for what I want, that it’s the best way to get anything in life. I’ve had some good teachers too,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
“...What do you want, Jirou?” he asked, glaring at her.
It didn’t seem to disarm her. Actually, she even squeezed her legs just a little tighter. He hoped to God it was from nervousness.
“I think I’ve established that, Mr Aizawa. But nothing specific, not yet anyway. Gotta get in your head before I get in your pants,” she said, winking.
He slowly stood up, looming and staring right at her with the meanest face he could pull. That seemed to land a hit, as she was now clearly focusing on looking aloof.
“Give me one good reason not to report you to principal Nezu right the hell now,” he said firmly, not raising his voice but enunciating for emphasis.
“...Because you should always make the smartest move possible in a tough situation. You taught us that. And this ain’t it,” she answered, looking serious for once.
I swear I used to be better at this. Maybe teaching’s made me soft.
He played an easy card and lost on that one. Society might have changed a lot when it came to quirks, in norms and classes, but some roots ran too deep and were too solid to remove. So as much as women had more equality with men, there wasn’t much chance that people would believe his story, no matter how true. Nezu might, he was a sensible guy, but this was his mess to deal with whether he liked it or not. Plus it was better to keep a tight leash on this, to avoid things spinning even more out of control.
“To be clear, I don’t entirely believe you. I still think there’s something else going on, but suppose I believe you a bit. Why are you doing this?”
She stopped for a moment, looking up as if to consider it. He was afraid to think that she hadn’t thought of that part.
“Beyond what I said earlier? I think it’s obvious I’m a rebel of sorts. The punk rock look isn’t just a look. I get a kick out of...challenging authority. I’m not out to destroy your career or anything, sir. It’s just...the idea of messing with you excites me just as much as would outside of your teaching position. I want you, Mr Aizawa.”
To his growing horror, she seemed to be excited by her own words. She was slightly squirming in her seat, gripping her elbows tightly and looking to the side, blushing hard. It was at this point that he decided to pull out.
Can’t block her, can’t trap her, definitely can't accept. This reeks. I hate this so much.
“Alright, I’ve heard enough. Get out of here. I’m willing to say this conversation never happened, and you better be thankful I’m not taking punitive measures,” he said, sitting back down with his arms crossed.
“Yes Mr Aizawa,” she said, bowing slightly before getting her bag and heading to the door. He pointedly stared forward, and his blood boiled in anger when she sashayed towards the door. He hadn’t watched her leave, she had intentionally started just before leaving his line of sight.
“Do you know what’s funny, sir?” she asked, standing at the classroom’s threshold.
He kept silent, staring forward.
“With all your talk of inappropriateness, student-teacher relationships and whatnot, you didn’t really shut me down.”
His hair rose in an instant, eyes red and wide, still staring forward.
“Out. Now,” he snapped.
He heard her leave, and waited a few seconds before dropping his quirk. He hadn’t really thought of using it, the sudden rush of anger has simply made his entire body tense. He sat there for a minute, rubbing his eyes as a thousand thoughts ran through his head, before deciding to leave this tainted place. He briskly put the chairs back, careful to not leave them askew, before grabbing his own bag and leaving, barely restraining himself from slamming the door shut.
With that he headed home. Not back to the teacher’s room in the dorms like he was supposed to, but to his own dwelling. He was in no mood to deal with anyone at the moment, especially not his students. He wasn’t running away, never. He just knew they could take care of themselves if there was an emergency.
***********
It was dark when he got home, on the last floor of his building, locking the door behind him. He didn’t bother with taking his shoes off, just headed straight for the couch and sat there, letting himself relax.
There were no other tenants on his floor or the one below, as this building wasn’t in the nicest part of town. The building wasn’t much to look at either, but that suited him. If it worked and put him near the action he was fine with it. Same went for his apartment. A small bedroom, a living room/kitchen, and a bathroom. Grey walls, basic furniture, and very few luxuries to his name. The nice couch for example, or the heavy curtains he had set up on his first day there.
He sat there, letting his thoughts drift. He was emotionally drained, and had stopped trying to rationalise what had happened. But his brain wouldn’t stop thinking, so he let it do its thing.
Which is why he almost jumped when he heard a tapping at his window. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled when he saw a familiar tabby cat looking straight at him. It wasn’t his cat, and he never bothered to check if it was someone else’s, looked healthy enough. He let it in anyway when it wanted to show up, just like he did for the all the other ones.
He disabled his window’s security settings before sliding it open, letting the cat jump in and rub itself against his legs for a few moments. This was nice. He had planned on going to bed soon, but a little feline company was just what he needed apparently.
Instead, he chose to make himself a good mixed salad, a small cup of coffee, and start one of his own little meditative exercises: solitaire. Not before dumping a bit of leftover tuna in a bowl, because he was always weak to a cat’s meowing, and this one apparently knew that.
The game kept him sharp while being very relaxing. He sat at his kitchen table, turning on a desk light and started shuffling the cards. Once he had finished setting up the seven rows of cards, he took off his shoes and set them beside his chair.
The events of the day had led him to reminisce about his youth. Surely teenage girls weren’t like that when he was 16, right? Not that he knew what they were like back then. He had kept to himself throughout the majority of high school, rarely going out of his way to hang out with people if he didn’t need to. He wasn’t a full-blown misanthrope or anything, he could get along with his classmates just fine – especially during training exercises – he was just very introverted. Being in animated groups was exhausting after a while, and he liked his personal space.
There were exceptions. Hizashi of course, who had gone from being tolerable to a true friend. Nemuri, who he hadn’t hung out with as much because she was a year above them, but still a good friend. Shirakumo…
He shook his head, focusing more on the cards to let his mind rest. Shirakumo was always on his mind, sometimes more than others. His memories would represent regrets, motivations, anger, happiness, and plenty of other emotions. All of them tired him, and he would always try to stop that train of thought as soon as he could.
Back to high school then. Apart from the exceptions, he never thought he stood out much, to boys or girls. Some of his classmates would try to prove themselves or something, seeing a challenge in him, and a few had socialised with him on occasion. A few seemed to find him attractive, if the gossip grapevine or the hushed conversations were to be believed.
He didn’t think he was particularly ugly or handsome, he just thought he didn’t look too bad. Not that he cared what people found attractive in him, or even thought of him. He only cared what he and the people he cherished thought of him. He had things he liked and disliked about himself, and that was about it. No need to think about it too hard, or spend any energy on looking handsome.
One round down, one win. After shovelling down a few forkfuls of salad he reshuffled the deck. The cat, which he noticed had been sniffing his shoes, was now curled up on his couch, sleeping peacefully. He looked at it for a moment, a soft smile on his face, before starting his game.
It’s not like no one had ever been attracted to him, and vice versa. Hell, he could even understand Jirou’s attraction, kind of. Once he took several steps back. Plenty of his classmates had made their attractions to certain pro heroes or teachers very evident, and he wasn’t unaffected by some of the older heroes’ looks. He chose not to dwell on that any further, and went back to his introspection. Who had been on his radar? He suspected he had been on other people’s radar.
Emi was proof of that, eugh. Unless that was a joke, which he wouldn’t put it past her. Mandalay had been giving him some looks last time he saw her, and she was both pleasant to be around and good-looking. While he found Nemuri pretty back in his younger days, now it felt weird to imagine her as anything other than an annoying sister. Besides, she was into...younger men than him.
That thought gave him pause, just as he was going to take a sip of coffee. He knew he wasn’t old, 30 was still young after all. But 40 was creeping ever closer, and while that wasn’t old, it wasn’t young. Hell, 35 was kind of pushing it when considering what young was.
Where had the time gone? He actually knew exactly where, it was just surprising to see where love and romance fit in that timeline. Specifically, nowhere.
Let’s see...graduation, and moving away from home, that’s 18 years old. Figuring out the field and the job, plus dealing with Shirakumo’s death leaves no room for any girlfriend. Hell, I barely made time for Hizashi. That took a few years, then Nemuri gets me in on the whole teaching gig...I was what, 26, 27? Been there ever since...Actually now could be the time. School is time consuming but there’s more freedom, and I’m an indie pro, so I just have to meet the monthly work quota which I easily do with school anyway...Huh. How about that.
He surprised himself again, as he realised he actually had more free time than he thought. Maybe using most of it to sleep wasn’t such a great choice nowadays. Still, he couldn’t just jump into one with anybody. Yes, there had been some flirting – whether for his job, or outside of it – and there had been a couple of hookups, with other stressed-out heroes or grateful civilians. Hero work wasn’t always fun and glamourous. But he had never been in a solid, romantic relationship.
Mainly because he didn’t have it in him to leave a partner behind, or even worse kids, if he died in the field. He had a plethora of other reasons, or excuses depending on how you looked at it.
Who could make a good partner? Mandalay seemed to be around his age, and a good person. He had even - somehow apparently - caught Miruko’s eye, for being one of the few truly solo heroes like her. He didn’t have anything against her, even if she was a loud mouth, as she was a great pro. And she wasn’t unattractive. But that was just speculation, guesses dropped at a bar for an after-mission celebration with her and a couple of other heroes. What to do, what to do…
Would she even be interested? I’m not sure I’m her type, or even attractive to her. At least with Jirou I know I still got it –
“Oh, fucking no...”
He shuddered violently from that errant thought, squirming in his seat as he reeled in horror in disgust. He violently slammed his palm on the table, making the cat run away towards his room.
Great, now you’re taking it out on others. No, no, nope, can’t think anymore. Can’t stay here, can’t sleep, damnit she is inside my head.
“Nope, nope, no no no, we’re done here, we are not thinking about this...you...eugh...” he muttered, grabbing his shoes and equipment before leaving his apartment, not bothering to lock it or set up any security.
He stomped out of the building and towards an old warehouse close by, muttering the whole time to keep his focus out of his head. He had been given access to it from a civilian he helped out a couple of years back, after a case involving squatting and dealing quirk-enhancing drugs. He had set up a work out area of sorts there, and could use the rafters to practice maneuvering with his scarf. Saved him from paying and going to a normal gym. Good thing too, because he had a lot of anger to let out.
He would return home around midnight, body aching and knuckles bruised. He collapsed on his couch, exhausted and feeling empty, and fell into a thankfully dreamless slumber.