Chapter Text
"So, you're married."
"Yes."
"But you're not legally married?"
"No," Aizawa answers, to everyone's bewilderment.
Humming in understanding, Yamada whistles, while Bakugou gives a discreet nod.
Yamada has a feeling that Aizawa will run with it.
And he's right. "Take this as a lesson. On the hypothetical that a villain were to break into UA, get ahold of our personal files--" A sigh rings out mid-way. "No, your documents are fine, do not look at me like that, Midoriya, this is just a word of warning, everyone's information here, as it is, remains perfectly secure -- and with those documents, they might be able to discover what our possible weaknesses are.
"No weaknesses are listed on official workings; that's for hero analysis' class only, and for other certified heroes to work out with their sidekicks verbally, in person."
The students listen intently, most of them hanging onto every word. Aizawa continues. "However, our connections, if they're legalised in the eyes of the government, will be available in even UA'S private record. And connections are everything when villains are involved. Spouses," he bites out the word, distaste obvious even without the fire in his eyes, "are treated as a hero's weakness."
Some of their peers wince in brutal understanding. Midoriya's scribbling away at a notebook. Tokoyami remains lurking in the corner right next to him with his arms crossed, head tilted as he observes Aoyama's crestfallen reaction.
("The darkness in your heart from this news is clear."
"I want a partner, mon ami. Badly. How am I supposed to do that if I can't even marry them?!)
Infinitesimally cheerful, Yamada adds, "But that doesn't mean you should deprive yourself from pursuing relationships! It's healthy and entirely normal for heroes to have separate lives beyond their professional gigs. I know I certainly do!"
Asui pokes at her chin. "Interesting, kero." Her arms interlock with each other, pupils narrowing into pensive slits. "But, Aizawa-sensei."
"Yes?"
"There are a lot of heroes publicly married. And legally. Why wouldn't they face the same risks?"
Aizawa thinks on it.
"Plenty get publicly married. It's usually under the circumstance that the civilian is equipped and in a position holding the same expectations as hero work," he says plainly, voice flat. "Or in heroics themselves."
"But you're both in heroics!" Ochako points out, piping up from behind Asui, finger raised. Aizawa raises a brow. She flushes under his gaze. "You and Mic-sensei, I mean!"
"Yeah, you're capable of taking care of yourselves!"
Yamada takes the chance to add in his own take on things, not one to remain quiet for too long, stepping forward. "That's right, listener! Good observation!" He clears his throat. No time like the present to add a 'learning moment' as well. "However, there's something a bit different about the jobs we have, ya'feel -- classification-wise, 'cause we don't roll with the same crowd!"
Most of the class blinks.
Bakugou scoffs. "Teach's saying that because sensei's an underground hero, they can't hitch up. Get with the program."
Aizawa huffs and shakes his head, mouthing 'this kid' to Yamada behind his palm. By no means is Yamada any closer to liking Bakugou, but he will admit that the kid's got guts.
In the rest of the room, eyes widen in understanding as a chorus of "OHHHH!" rings out.
"Yeah, that makes more sense...."
"Aizawa-sensei's really private, isn't he?"
"He's no top ten, but Mic-sensei's popular, isn't he?"
"If by popular you mean decrepit, yeah, sure."
"That's not very nice, Jirou, he's like an uncle to you--"
"I won't take such slander, jeez, he's just an announcer!"
"That's all well and good, and I'm very, very excited to know that, guys," Ashido interrupts loudly, looking pointedly not excited as she was back in the lecture, but also looking like she'd rather ask something else, too. Yamada was almost the same way when he was her age. Besides the fact that he was interested in pretty much everything, and not just pretending to be interested in most things. "But you're still married! Even if privately! You guys are part-neeers!"
She admonishes it by sing-songing at the end of her sentence.
To which Aizawa grimaces and Yamada's face brightens, of course; musical talent is something he won't ever gloss over.
"And not work partners," Todoroki comments idly. "Like you told us you were. Was that just another one of your rational deceptions?"
Yamada thinks on it. "Well, we're still colleagues, so it's not really--"
"Yes," Shouta cuts in, glaring. "Rational deception galore, if you will."
Ever the polite, despite the tension from earlier, Midoriya raises his hand as if rejuvenated. They still have many questions to ask him and Bakugou, but those can be set aside for later to answer his own question.
"Yes, Midoriya?"
"Was telling us that you were work colleagues just to throw us off your trail? Did you really not want us knowing that badly?"
"Sho-- your sensei didn't want anyone butting into his personal life!" Yamada answers, pressing a hand to his husband's shoulder. His shoulders lift up and down as he shrugs. "Real talk? Me neither! I'd scream my love for Eraser from the rooftops if the world would let me, but, alas, I saw through reason and knew it'd be better off to keep it on the down low! Sorry not sorry, listeners! Safety's our jam, ya'feel?"
The back of his hand drops to his temple dramatically, maroon shirt riding up his hip just enough for everyone in the room to be starkly reminded that Present Mic was only a quarter of an inch present (pun not intended).
Some of the class exchange a conspiratorial look.
Kirishima's speech waltzes in just in time for the silence not to grow awkward.
"What's with the whole get-up, by the way?"
Eyes widening, the teenager's hand ducks behind him to rub at his neck, perhaps realising the brusqueness of it could be too much. Yamada crosses his arms together. "Not that it isn't super manly of you! It's very sweet! But, we've never seen you like this before. We've only seen the other teachers like..."
Jumping in, Iida gestures to all of Yamada. "What he means to say, we've seen All Might and the rest of our teachers in a casual setting! But not you!"
Beside him, Aizawa squints, one eye closing shut.
Yamada's mouth parts, raising one finger. Promptly shutting up again as the viridian eyes now visible for the whole 'world' to see, sunglasses hiked up to the top of his forehead, dart from the class to the window as another gust of wind murmurs through, howling. Small slates of ice had been slamming against the dormitories every now and then, and though he'd tuned it out to address the students, wholly fixated on their relationship being revealed, it was still a reminder that there were bigger things than them to fret about.
Terseness notwithstanding, Aizawa takes it upon himself to answer the question. Rather casually in contrast to what Yamada expects, something he'd challenge himself due to being pissed that he'd had to worry about being discreet while Aizawa, no, Shouta, was just throwing their given names out there like it was nothing. "Curated personas are not an end-all be-all, but Hizashi steps into Present Mic the instant that hero costume is on him."
Thank you, Shouta, for airing that lovely segment out, Hizashi mutters, under his breath. Definitely wanted the listeners to think I'm fake.
Also, you use Hizashi here, of all times, really?
Ramifications dawning on him, Shouta pauses, staring back at the sheepish students.
Some seem to still be dumbfounded at 'Hizashi'. A fact which makes sense; while Shouta had introduced himself in his entirety as Aizawa Shouta first, then Eraserhead, not one to compromise his identity to a new pack of students from the get-go, until they established themselves as hero hopefuls he could trust; most of the staff had hard veered in the other direction, coming forward only as their hero names first (understandable) and revealing one part of their civilian one when the time was right.
Hizashi hadn't exactly reached that second stage yet.
"Curated isn't the best choice of words. I apologize," he says, frowning. "What I meant to say was that there's a certain image to uphold even outside of work settings. It's best to separate your professional life from your private."
The class is all well aware of how private Aizawa is. How often he keeps to himself. They hadn't even figured out he had a spouse until, well, just now.
"The other faculty and I simply have varying opinions on what 'separation' means," he continues, "Which you'll come to figure out yourself once you debut as a hero. It'll also be covered in an upcoming lecture we have in the weeks ahead, as I mentioned before, a strong contender for being one of the most talked-on topics for your finals, so."
The grin steadily building up on his features turns foul. "Plus Ultra, problem children. We're going to work you hard."
An irrational heat crawls into Shouta's cheeks when familiar lips press into them. Unamused and flushed, his chin scurries under the weight of his capture scarf, the binding cloth covering his mouth as Hizashi tugs him closer, to the awe and horror of the students.
"Don't you fret a thing!" Hizashi tuts. "We promise to pave the road of education for you listeners as well as we can!"
Thoroughly reminded that they have an exam coming up soon, the class groans.
"Where's Aizawa-sensei's ring?"
"Huh?"
"You have one. But he doesn't."
"Oh, this neat thing? I never wear it outside the house!" The man pauses. "Well, except this one time. Special circumstances, ya'dig?"
"Hah, that's not what I asked--"
"I wear mine at home," Shouta interrupts, brusque. A red-eyed glare greets his students. "Mic, stop answering their questions. Play your card."
Hizashi huffs, bumping against a disgruntled Kirishima and Bakugou, both of the two boys side by side as their teacher leans forward. He tosses a yellow card into the pile; the +2.
The English teacher groans when the next person in the queue, Asui, throws a +4 card.
"This is so not fun without rules, Jesus." He leans forward, grabbing 6 cards from the pile. "Isn't there a handbook for this sorta thing? That ain't allowed, right?"
"We could check, Mic-sensei! Midoriya has the rules on his notebook!"
"Righty-ho, we could-- that book. That book?"
"Yes! Neat, right?"
A jittery laugh leaves Hizashi. "Yeah! Absolutely! It's just... it's a hardcover."
"I know you don't like books as much as movies, Mic, but that's quite discriminatory, don't you think?" Shouta drawls.
"You're a barrel of laughs, Eraser," Hizashi snarks. "It looks like it could crush my windpipe if you threw it at me!" He twists his head back toward Midoriya. "Isn't it usually just a long folded sheet you pretend to read then toss into the bin the next time ya open the box?"
"Usually, yeah," Midoriya confesses. A cheery smile spreads over his face. "But Plus Ultra, right? We had a bit too much energy the first time we played, so..."
That's well and good but, jeez, these kids.
"Fair! Fair, fair fair, fair, okay, but. Hold on there. What the heck?! Next you're going to tell me this game has terms and conditions I've gotta flip through, sheesh!"
The silence that rings out is volumes enough -- even more volumes than those instructions -- even without Hizashi's echolocation.
"Wow. Wow." The man pinches the bridge of his nose, pitching up only slightly. "Oh good lord, Shouta. Your students are complete terrors, what the [hell?] What did this class even do to deserve that many pages to follow?!"
Hizashi's voice turns accusing after the English curse is spoken, the same way a detective in a noir-movie slams his hands on the table while in an interrogation room with a criminal.
Pointing a finger, he tacks on, fully invested, now, "[And you were going to leave me alone with them too, when we told them!]"
Low giggles ring out.
It's been 15 years of putting up with Hizashi's tendencies to default to English. Shouta can piece it together rather easily. "So you get my point, sunshine."
Ashido screams.
The rain still beats outside, hailing down on them.
Somewhere else in Japan, a purple, foggish warp-gate exclaims, lowly all the same, "Something just happened."