Chapter Text
The students of class 1-A were oddly silent when Midoriya walked in. Usually, even on the dimmest of days, there’d be some chatter. He looked to see if the usual instigators were already in class, but Kaminari and Ashido were sitting in their seats, faces unusually tense.
Afraid to break the silence or act in discord with the mood, Midoriya took his seat carefully and quietly, looking down at his desk. The silence stretched on for minutes, and finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He turned around subtly.
“…Did something happen?” Midoriya asked, voice barely above a whisper.
In response, Uraraka pointed past him to Aizawa’s podium at the front of the room. Sitting on top was a small, decorative gift bag. Attached to it, a tag.
In the shape of a heart.
“Someone’s confession?” Midorya’s expression now matched the rest of his classmate’s, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “For Aizawa? Who’s it from?”
“No one saw who left it,” Iida was holding the edge of his desk tightly, “But it’s got to be from one of the other teachers at U.A.! And that aside, it is none of our business.”
“You’re speculating just as much as the rest of us!” Kaminari shouted from the back of the class. “Someone just needs to go peek at the note! It’s not even sealed—Hagakura, isn’t this your thing? Just go over there and take a look!”
“No way!” Her gloves were clasped tightly in front of the collar of her uniform, “I might be invisible, but there’s no way Aizawa wouldn’t notice.”
“Why do you all care so much?” Bakugo asked, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just a stupid love letter. Whoever left it out is gunna get turned down anyway. Teachers don’t have lives.”
“That’s not true,” Asui chimed in. “There’s no romantic holiday coming up. It probably isn’t a confession—it must be for an anniversary.”
The entire class gasped, caught off guard.
“No way he’s married,” Bakugo grunted, “The guy’s a walking dumpster. Maybe he’s cool, but that’s it.”
“There’s no way it’s not a teacher!” Iida continued, “A spouse couldn’t have gotten in to U.A. to leave it here.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t our business, class rep?” Kaminari smirked. “Someone just go over and look at it already!”
“If you’re so curious, why don’t you go do it?” Todoroki suggested, collected but curious.
“Are you kidding me? Do I look like I want to die?”
Iida cut back, “You can’t go around suggesting that other people go do something that you’re not willing to do yourself!”
That turned all the eyes in the class to him, and Kaminari reluctantly rose out of his seat under the pressure. “Fine! Fine. Geeze.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking up through the rows of desks until he reached the podium. He glanced towards the door to make sure Aizawa wasn’t about to walk in—which would be just his luck—but saw nothing.
Despite Midoriya’s conscience telling him that this probably wasn’t right, his curiosity was drowning it out. After all, what harm could it do? They only had conjecture to work off of—all they knew was that it had to be someone who either went to or taught at the school, and given Aizawa’s age, a student’s confession would be out of the question—especially given that there was no holiday coming up.
“Someone—Someone watch the door!” Kaminari was procrastinating now, but Mineta did the job.
“All clear!” he said.
Just as Kaminari reached over to open the small heart-shaped note, ribbons of cloth exploded from beneath the nearby desk. His hands were caught instantly, and an almost smug Aizawa emerged from where he’d no doubt slept the night before.
“Good morning, class,” He walked over to the podium, Kaminari still frozen in place.
The entire class was mortified. No one dared speak, and Kaminari looked like he was about to ascend right then and there.
Aizawa picked up the small bag and set it on his own desk before letting Kaminari go. “Going through other people’s belongings isn’t honest. Even if you are curious. None of you stopped him because you thought he wouldn’t get caught, and what he was about to do—though immoral—would satisfy your collective curiosity. Heroic.”
He looked out at all of them, and not a single one of his students could meet his eyes. Kaminari was still standing where he’d been caught until one nod from Aizawa had him racing back to his seat.
“I know all of you are just going to keep wondering what’s written on the inside of that notecard. It’ll drive you crazy. So…”
The class leaned forward a bit, eager to listen.
“I’ll let that be your punishment.”
And then they all deflated.
Class went on as per usual, though everyone was too ashamed to get into the lessons like they usually did, and lunch was like breathing for the first time in hours.
“I guess that’s a pro hero for you,” Midoriya shrugged, sitting across from Iida and Uraraka. “I feel so bad. We all acted like middle-schoolers.”
“And now we’ll never know who left the gift.” Uraraka rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, playing with her food absentmindedly. “It’s almost sad! You look at Mr. Aizawa and don’t ever even consider that he might have a family or a wife or a girlfriend—”
“He doesn’t look the type.” Iida agreed, “But looks can be deceiving. If it’s another teacher at the school, which it has to be, then it’s likely that they’ve known him for a long time. Aizawa is our teacher, but he’s also been a hero for a while.”
“I think it’d be best if we just forgot about it,” Midoriya admitted, “He was right. If we let it eat away at us, it’s just going to drive us nuts.”
Silence.
“It could be Midnight.”
“Iida,” Midoriya gaped, “You were the one that said we should stay out of it in the first place!”
“I know, but—there’s something to be said for investigation, right? We were given one clue, and that was the gift bag and the shape of the card. If we were professional heroes investigating a crime and something like that was all we had to go on, we’d have to make do!”
“You’re reaching pretty far.” Midoriya half-laughed.
“It was definitely from a lover, we know that much!” Uraraka joined in, much to Midoriya’s chagrin, “The note was in the shape of a heart.”
“And we know it had to come from someone who can get into the school, at the very least. Probably not a student.”
“So that leaves us with…” Iida thought it over. “Excluding Principal Nezu and Lunch-Rush, eleven possible candidates.”
“You’re going to count in Recovery Girl?” Midoriya asked, “I mean, out of the teachers that are left—it’s probably Midnight. She knows Aizawa from high school, right? And she’s the only lady left.”
“Ah, but who said it had to be a woman?” Iida’s hands moved like they were automated, like he’d caught Midoriya off guard. “In this day and age, it isn’t uncommon—”
“Can we at least cross out Cementoss?” Uraraka asked, “He’s a rock.”
“Uraraka! Just because he’s got a heteromorphic quirk doesn’t mean he can’t love someone!”
“Iida’s right, Uraraka.” Midoriya nodded, “We’ll have to check through everyone, no assumptions!”
“I think we can all agree we’ll start with Midnight,” Iida began, laying it out like a battle plan. “She’s the most likely candidate. They have history.”
“Agreed,” Midoriya nodded again, “While you talk to Midnight, I’ll talk to Present Mic. He’s a good friend of Aizawa’s—if he’s not who we’re looking for, he’ll probably know who is.”
“And I’ll talk to Recovery Girl! She knows everything about everyone.” Uraraka smiled. “We’ll have to be careful about how we ask, though. He made it seem like it was private business.”
“And we can’t rule out the possibility that he was given the gift before coming in to work and set it down when he arrived this morning.” Iida added, “Though if he wanted it to be private, I doubt he would’ve made such a mistake.”
“That’s too much to think about right now. Let’s start small and go from there—we have twenty minutes of lunch left. Let’s make them count!”
And so the three went their separate ways after downing the rest of their food in one swift go.
Iida found Midnight in her office, daintily eating a bowl of pork and rice. “Excuse me, Ms. Midnight!” He bowed in the doorway, “I was wondering if you had a moment!”
“Sure,” She smiled, “What is it?”
A long pause while Iida thought of how to phrase his question, but none of the tact made it out through his mouth. “Is there any romantic inclination between you and Mr. Aizawa!”
She choked on her rice, coughing for a minute before laughing. “Forward! So forward! God, kids these days. Why would you ask me that?”
So, she was being defensive. Iida was watching her carefully and made note. “Because there are rumors, Ms. Midnight! And when there are rumors, I prefer to go to the source and straighten things out properly before things can get out of hand!”
“That’s noble, honestly. But no. Aizawa is a wet blanket, and while he can take some punishment, he’s… not really my type. He sleeps too much as it is.”
Not her type? “But is he in a relationship?”
“Should you, a student, really be asking that about one of your teachers? You should be more focused on your studies than the love-lives of your seniors, you know.”
Iida bowed his head further in shame. “Sorry, Ms. Midnight! I didn’t mean to--”
She shook her head, “Get back to class.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” He turned on his heel to leave, but Midnight stopped him.
“If you’re really that curious, you should just ask him yourself. I promise it’ll be easier than whatever you and the other students are trying to do.”
“Yes,” he said again, taking it to heart before zipping right out.
“Present Mic!” Midoriya found him in the hallway and waved him down, the man’s blond cockatoo hair bouncing when he turned.
“Ah, Midoriya! One of my favorite listeners! What’s up, little guy?” His glasses were pushed up into his hair, and his headphones hung down around his neck. “You here to ask me about the English exam? I can’t give out any study guides, y’know! Especially not just to one student.”
“No, no—it’s not about class. Well, it’s about school, but… You’re Mr. Aizawa’s friend, right?”
“Sure am.”
“Someone left a gift on the podium in his class today. There was a notecard in the shape of a heart next to it. We—his class—we were wondering if you might know who it’s from?” It was embarrassing to even ask, given how they’d been scolded earlier, but he still made it happen.
There was a pause, and then Mic erupted with laughter. “Not a clue! I feel bad for the poor sap who sent it, though. Us pro heroes don’t have time for romance—especially when we take day jobs as teachers. Don’t worry about it too much, kid! It’s probably in the trash by now.”
While Midoriya doubted Aizawa would handle someone’s feelings so carelessly, he nodded and went on his way back to rendezvous with the others.
Present Mic, on the other hand, went straight to the teacher’s lounge.
He busted the door down, smile on his face. “Alriiiiiiight, which one of you is trying to mess up this social biome we’ve got going on? All the students are talking about it.” He took a seat at his own desk next to Aizawa, leaning back in his chair.
Ectoplasm and All Might were at their respective desks, but Present Mic was only looking at the latter. All Might noticed, and practically paled.
“No! N-no, not me.”
“I didn’t say what’d happened.” Mic’s arms were folded, and he leaned forward with a ‘caught you’ sort of smile. Behind it, in his tone, there was a little irritation. “Pretty candid to just leave it out where the students could see. Rumors are flying through every school social station!”
“I know how Aizawa feels about gifts,” All Might scratched the back of his head, looking away, “He made it clear. And as much as I respect his work and his tenure as a teacher here at U.A., I don’t— besides, when I heard the rumor, I assumed y--”
“I’m right here.” Aizawa finally spoke.
“Well, yeah, but there’s no way you’ll tell me if I ask you. You’re always so cagey about your love life! Even with me! Everyone’s trying to put it together. Midoriya came up and asked me if I knew who gave it to you, even. I’m not sure if that means they care about you a lot, or are just a bunch of nosey kids, but—it’s caused a pretty big stir.”
“Tell me who it’s from.”
Aizawa pulled the bag out from under his desk. It was a small white and blue bag with tissue paper sticking out the top, and the tell-tale heart card tied to the handle. He dropped it unceremoniously on Mic’s desk, looking back at his computer.
Mic looked at Aizawa curiously for a minute before opening the small card and looking inside.
“It’s blank? You’d think they’d at least say ‘from your secret admirer’ or something. And it has to be from one of the other teachers—”
“It’s not from anyone. I bought it.”
A pause. Even Ectoplasm, who had just been eavesdropping until that point, froze up.
So Aizawa continued, “I was on my way back from a job last night in the city to the south of here. There was a department store with mugs. That one’s yours. They didn’t have bags without tags.”
Mic relaxed in his chair, caught completely off guard, and then looked into the bag itself. A second later, he pulled out a coffee mug. It was bright white, the face of a cockatoo on the front.
Aizawa pulled a second mug off the top of his desk—a gray cat—and held it up like he was going to toast. “I couldn’t pass them by. They were sitting in the window, and I thought—”
“It’s us,” Mic said it to himself, and then—almost loud enough to set off his quirk—“Yeah! It’s us! It’s basically us!”
“I know.” He set the mug back on his desk, and was smiling beneath his scarf.
All Might smiled gently, “You should’ve told the students. They think you’ve got a secret special someone, and they’re probably not going to stop until they figure out who it is.”
Mic had his arms resting on Aizawa’s shoulders from behind, checking their mugs side by side. He was still marveling at how great they were.
“I know. I already told them it’s their punishment for trying to get involved in my business—they’ll forget about it in a week. I don’t know why they were so curious.”
“Because you’re Mr. Mystery, Eraserhead. We’re pro heroes! Teachers! We’re not allowed to have lives outside of work. Them’s the rules.”
“An illogical assumption.”
“It’s not wrong, though.” All Might noted, “None of us have families. Sometimes we have to take what we can get.”
“Like how you’ve picked up Midoriya.” Mic observed. “He really looks up to you, and you’re proud of him. It’s not…”
“Yeah,” All Might agreed, “It’s not… it isn’t really anything you can put a name to. Like the two of you, in a way.”
Aizawa raised his brows, and then looked up at Mic before refocusing on All Might.
“It’s the kind of thing you find at the end of the world when there’s nothing left, I think.”
“You’ve been thinking a lot, huh?” Mic asked. “Didn’t think the thoughts of the Symbol of Peace would be so depressing.”
“It’s not.” Aizawa cut him off. “He’s right.”
All Might’s brows shot right up past his hairline. Him, right? By Aizawa’s standards?
“We’re professional heroes. Not a lot is guaranteed, day to day. And…”
All Might gave him a minute to finish before joining in, almost somber. “There aren’t words for it.”
“No.” He shrugged Mic off his shoulders from where he’d been listening intently—unusual, for him. “Mind getting us some coffee, Mic?”
He offered over the cat mug, and Mic took it. “…Yeah. You sure you don’t want to try caffeinated?”
“Yes.”
Mic left, leaving the three teachers in the office.
An awkward silence ensued, and even Aizawa felt it. He tried to focus on his work, but he could feel All Might’s eyes boring into him from across the small desk divider. It was obvious he wanted to say something.
As All Might opened his mouth to speak, it was Aizawa that broke the silence. “I’ll handle things with the students. I won’t let this whole ordeal get blown out of proportion.”
“I’m sure,” All Might nodded, “But… what I was going to say was… ah. You could’ve removed the tag.”