Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Aizawa-sensei had said they were going on a day field trip tomorrow, everyone was excited. The nervous anticipation that once clung to field trips was gone or at least as gone as it ever could be. Since moving to the dorms they had been on multiple day trips for training or fun and each that passed without incident settled their nerves. When he said they were all required to wear their formal uniforms theories on where they were going cropped up even more frantically then before.

Ashido and Kaminari were convinced that they were going to a gala and spun fantasies to anyone who would listen about fancy drinks and dancing. Iida in his practicality and Yaoyorozu who had actually been to galas, speculated along the lines of a press release or interview simulation and encouraged everyone to get a goodnight sleep and be on their best behavior come morning. Todoroki was slightly more reserved than normal, which was hard to notice and when Midoriya asked he said it was nothing.

However, when they showed up for the bus the next morning and found Aizawa wearing actual clothes, nice clothes, specifically black dress pants and a black button down shirt instead of his usual hero uniform, they knew something was up. Even his hair was pulled back in a tight braid and while he looked nice, it was rather unsettling.

He greeted them curtly and then left Iida to get everyone onto the bus.

“I wasn't sure he owned actual clothes,” Sero whispered.

“How did he get his hair in a braid?” Kaminari marveled. “Wait no who convinced him to get his hair braided in the first place?”

“I've seen him in a braid before,” Uraraka piped up. “When the guys were out once he let us braid his hair.”

“Nooooo,” Kaminari and Sero gasped.

“It's true!! It's true!!!” Ashido squealed.

“He even braided our hair, too!!!” Hagakure added in. “He's really good at it. Mine looked amazing!”

The group took a second to process and appreciate this information before Iida brought them all back to attention with choppy hand motions and loud announcements to “not waste school time discussing such trivial things.” Everyone hurried onto the bus soon after.

The ride started with typical chit chat and excitement. The Bakusquad minus Bakugou himself we're the loudest, per usual. But the constant source of murmuring and conversation that was Midoriya was caught up quietly whispering to Todoroki. Eventually he fell quite simply taking the others hand in a show of comfort and solidarity. Soon after Iida and Uraraka fell quite too, not sure what to talk about with only half their group. Jiro put on her headphones and Yaoyorozu started reading. Slowly conversations died until it was only Ashido, Hagakure, Kaminari and Sero talking. Even Kirishima had taken to resting his head on Bakugou’s shoulder, intent on listening rather then actually participating in the conversation.

They droned on for quite a while before Ashido called up to the front of the bus. “Aizawa-sensei are we going to have dinner out too?” Aizawa was sitting quietly and surprisingly not sleeping or even nodding off like normal but instead staring pensively out the window.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hagakure cheered. “We haven't gotten to go out in forever!” Which wasn’t entirety true, they’d had dinner out last weekend, but no one was going to argue with the slight exaggeration.

“I mean don't get me wrong, I love Lunch Rush but sometimes it's nice to remember what outside food is you know?” Kaminari added.

Aizawa had yet to turn around even as Ashido started calling out a string of sensei’s to try and get his attention followed quickly by Kaminari and Hagakure joining in. Iida was about to tell them off when to everyone's surprise Bakugou spoke up.

“Read the fucking room jackasses. No one wants to deal with your hyperactive shit right now,” he yelled at them.

Ashido and Hagakure fell quite, while Kaminari felt the need to get in the final jab.

“It's a bus not a room,” he said smartly and the murder glare Bakugou fixed at him after that was enough to shut him up for the rest of the ride.

They were about 30 minutes from the city when the first signs of civilian broke on the rice field horizon. Even in the somber mood the class began to clamber around the windows to look at what they were approaching.

It was a rather impressive wall to say the least.

The bus finally came to a stop as the wall cut off the road they were on and turned into an expansive, thou nearly empty, parking lot.

When it parked everyone hesitated to get up, waiting for what was going to happen next. Just before Yaoyorozu was about to ask a question Aizawa stood up.

All eyes were instantly on him. Aizawa took a second to scan over the bus, appreciating his currently quite class, before he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Today we are going to someplace that is both very important to hero society and myself personally. It is very likely that this will become somewhere important to you in the future. I expect everyone to be respectful and not take this trip lightly,” he finished solemnly.

Everyone waited a few second for him to continue and when he showed no signs of doing so Yaoyorozu cleared her throat and asked, “Umm sensei where, exactly, are we going?”

Aizawa simply looked at her and then shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “You'll find out soon enough,” he said as he walked off the bus.

A quiet murmur had started up again but somehow anything above a whisper just seemed wrong. The class made their way off the bus and over to a small building that protruded out from the wall.

The wall itself was made out of stone but had no noticeable lines in it, seemingly all a single piece. It towered above them, giving off a very old and slightly ominous feeling. The building was nondescript, made of the same material. Neither gave away what the place actually was.

Aizawa approached the building and instructed the student to wait outside as he proceeded in. He came back in few minutes, walked over to the wall and opened a (comparatively) small door that was previously gone unnoticed.

“Alright,” he called, “Everyone in.”

Through the door they were meet with vibrate green landscaping and a stone gravel courtyard. There were pagodas in the distance and a purification fountain to their right. A ways beyond that stood a large Torii gate. Everything about the area spelled peace and tranquility, in jarring opposition to the large stone wall that seemed to expand around the entire complex.

It was clearly a shrine or maybe a temple, perhaps just a little bit of both. What was baffling was how such a large and ornate complex existed so close to Tokyo and yet none of them had heard of it before.

They purified themselves quickly following Aizawa’s lead, while Iida’s direction broke them into lines for efficiency. After that they started down the path towards the towering Torii gate.

The class began to pair off as they walked. The Bakusquad stuck close together, Kirishima taking Bakugou’s hand and leaning close to his side. Todoroki and Midoriya were huddled together whispering in their own world. And the rest of the class followed similarly, if to varying degrees.

As they approached the gate two more figures came into view. “Heeeeyyyy, Shouuuuutaaaa,” called a somewhat subdued but still undeniably Present Mic voice from the blond haired man in front of them. It was striking how different he looked out of costume. His blond hair down and pulled back in a loose ponytail, bright colors discarded for black clothing similar to what Aizawa was currently wearing. He flashed the class a smile but it was less blinding than usual more strained and maybe even a little sad.

“Hizashi, Nemuri,” Aizawa acknowledged, nodding to both of them.

“Awww, look at all of them. All dressed up,” Midnight cooed. She was probably an even more startling sight then Present Mic, wearing the least revealing outfit they had ever seen her in, a black long sleeved blouse, black pencil skirt and black tights. “I could just eat them up right now.” She paused hesitating slightly. “You sure this isn’t too soon? Aren’t they a little young for this, Shouta?”

Aizawa sighed, long suffering and exhausted. “I’m never sure and they always are,” he said simply striding past them. “Besides it’s not like we can get back on the bus now.”

“Hummm,” Midnight said, pressing her lips into a thin white line and hanging back to bring up the rear as Hizashi hurried to catch up with Aizawa’s single minded power walk.

The class proceeded after their teacher nervously. And were soon met with the answer to the question they had been asking all morning.

Before them intermingled with luscious greener and surrounding the large temple was a graveyard.

Not just any graveyard, thou.

No, this was a graveyard for Heroes.

Chapter Text

“I thought it was an urban legend,” Midoriya whispered in awe.

“What?” Kaminari piped up nervously. “I mean graveyard- as a class trip. Ok, got that... but Why?”

“There’s this rumor floating around really deep hero theory forums, that all the large publicized funerals and spectacle public graves for heroes are all just a front and none of them are actually buried where they say they are. There's even groups that go out claiming to have quirks that let them ‘feel energies’ and stuff like that, proclaiming said sites empty. A few years back there was even this big scandal where the public grave site of Bumble: The Busy Hero was dug up and found empty, but the media covered that up saying that the family had requested his ashes for the family altar instead…” Midoriya trailed off under the scrutiny of the odd looks from his classmates. “I thought it was just a conspiracy theory,” he added, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“It is not,” Aizawa cut in sharply, and Midoriya had the decency enough to look ashamed for his distasteful rambling. “This,” he gestured, “is a hero cemetery. More specifically this is the hero cemetery run and maintained by UA. Ever person buried here attended and graduated from UA’s heroics program. This is where I will be buried and you will be buried should you graduate, regardless of whether or not you make it in the pro hero industry. Does anyone know why this would be the case?”

“It’s the easiest way to keep track of everyone,” Todoroki stated simply. “Hero’s often work for many agencies over their careers and while it would seem simple enough to have them buried with the agency they died under it leaves too many variable open for debate. What if they had just transferred? What if the agencies negligence was to blame for their death? The lawsuits would be disastrous. It’s simpler to tie ever hero to the school they graduate from, that way in the wake of the tragedy no one has to deal with custody fights over their remains.”

“That makes sense,” Tsuyu added thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her chin. “But that doesn’t explain why the bodies aren’t returned to their families. It seems a little presumptuous to take that right away from them.”

Aizawa was about to respond when Todoroki cut in again. “The families wouldn’t be able to protect them.”

“Protect them from what?” Bakugou barked insidiously, “Their already fucking dead.”

While the class turned to glare at Bakugou’s unrepentant face, Midoriya gasped. “DNA,” he whispered.

“Exactly,” Aizawa said, looking like he had aged 10 years since entering. “Soon after quirks first appeared they were identified in and connected to the genetic makeup of a person. It was theorized then and known now that a person's quirk is tied directly to their DNA. Therefore, it stands to reason that acquiring someone’s DNA could lead to possessing their quirk as well.”

Some students started to open their mouths to protest that this was impossible (Midoriya being notably silent) but Aizawa held up a hand. “Based off of this conclusion it would stand to reason that it is possible for a quirk to allow a someone to take or borrow another’s quirk by only being in contact with their DNA. While alive a Pro-Hero protects their quirk, however, once they die that is no longer the case. Imagine a villain that simply needs a bit of research and a shovel to gain access to the strongest quirks that have ever existed. Needless, to say it would be catastrophic.

“Furthermore, there have been reported cases of quirks that allow various forms of half resurrection or energy consumption also taking advantage of deceased Pros. To prevent this the international community passed various laws requiring all heroes be cremated and each country to develop ways of securing their remains. Japan's solutions is the highschool graduate based, hero cemeteries. It is one of the most efficient systems in the world and one of Japan’s hero industry's best kept secrets.”

“For..umm getting buried here,” Yaoyorozu started, biting her lip hesitation. “Is there a choice?”

Aizawa sighed. “No, it is one of the ironclad rules of the hero industry for both efficiency and national security. I understand why this would be difficult to accept for those of you with family plots but exceptions are not, nor will they be made for you especially given that you are all Japanese citizens. Even Japanese hero’s who spend most of their time abroad are required by international law to be buried with their respective classes. Only international students have the option to choose whether or not they would like to be buried in Japan or their home country.

“This is one of the reasons hero families are often tied to a specific school,” he continued, glancing meaningfully over at Iida. “It is the only way for families to be buried close to each other.”

The class fell silent, mulling over this new information. It was a lot to take in.

“Come on,” Aizawa called over his shoulder, once again leading the way to the temple, “There’s more to see.”

The memorials they passed were old and worn, dating back to the beginning of UA, but they were still clean, well cared for and easily readable.

At the top of each monument the graduating year and a class photo were centered. Below these carved into the large gray stone slabs were the real and hero names of everyone in the class. Each set of names were accompanied by two pictures. One of the person in their hero uniform and the other of them in daily life.

Some showed them in action, quirks flaring. Others showed them smiling with friends or family.

Most of the corresponding dates felt too close together.

As they got closer to the temple the dates started to become more recent, but still old enough that all those they were dedicated to should have passed. To his surprise, Midoriya did spot one name still colored in red, marking the person as still living. Fushiko: The Ageless Heroine.

He felt his gut twist slightly. They were still young, so he hadn't considered it before, but someone would always be the last to go. He didn’t know which was worse, leaving your friends behind or having all them leave you first.

Aizawa stopped at the bottom of the short but wide flight of stairs that lead up to the temple, waiting for the class to gather there.

The temple, itself, was large and bright. It’s red paint shimmering and golden accents glittering in the sun. The front was wide, providing ample space for people to pray in front of it. Positioned across its front were eight evenly spaced bells attached to the overhanging roof. Cords that draped down from the bells let people ring them to wake the spirits before they prayed.

At the base of the stairs a large and intricately carved stone incense bowl stood at chest height. A small flame flickered in its center for lighting the incense. Upon approaching it Aizawa slipped enough yen to pay for the class into the collection slit under the bowl. He took a piece of incense, lit it with the flame and secured it into the sand which filled the bowl.

“If anyone would like to light incense feel free to do so. If you would like to pray, Hizashi has more than enough 5 yen coins to go around.” And with that Aizawa continued up the steps, leaving Hizashi and Nemuri to watch over the students.

Everyone hesitated for a second before Present Mic called out, “Come on, come on now don’t be shy,” he flashed them a reassuring smile. “Feel free to take your time but stick close, the lectures aren’t done yet.” His next smile was a little more strained, but everyone started moving nonetheless.

They took turns lighting incense first, with only a minor incident. Kirishima reminding Bakugou to use the flame, not his quirk.

Todoroki, who had been planning on using his quirk to avoid the line, decided to use provided flame instead simply to one up him, enjoying Bakugou’s grumbles.

Then they each took a coin Present Mic had graciously provided, Who carries coins anyway? He must have gotten them from a bank considering how new and shiny they all looked, and went up to pray.

Aizawa had taken the bell the farthest to the left and was still standing in front of it hands pressed together in a silent prayer. In order to not disturb their teacher the students gravitated to the right.

He didn’t show any signs of stirring until Midnight went over to the bell next to him. She bowed slightly, tossed her coin into the wooden grated box in front of them, then ringing the bell three times. She pressed her hand together in a short prayer before fishing with a slight bow.

Next to her Aizawa started to come back to the world. He moved his hands apart and did a short bow before glancing over at Nemuri. “Back with us,” she teased gently.

He gave a slight humm in response and turned with her to walk back down the stairs. Hizashi smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder as they passed, moving up the stairs for his own prayer now that the other two teachers were back to watch over the congregation of softly chattering students.

Midoriya’s group plus Yaoyorozu and Jiro seemed to be in the middle of discussing the pros and cons of the hero cemetery system. Iida was lamenting that he had not been aware of such an important part of hero society even though he was from a well established hero family. He concluded it was because none of his family had died within his lifetime, so there had simply not been a need. Midoriya commented that Todoroki had been aware of it and he conceded that he’d been to some sidekicks funerals before and left it at that.

Bakugou and Kirishima were sitting on the steps clearly trying to ignore and fringe ignorance of Kaminari’s attempts to light incense with his electricity, much to Ashido and Sero’s amusement. After sending a glare at Kaminari, which led to him being abandoned before sputtering an apology, quickly lighting it the right way and similarly running off, Aizawa was content to let them talk until Hizashi finished up.

A few minutes later Present Mic was down the stairs slightly misty eyed, which he attempted to cover up with bright smiles and a quick dab of his sleeves.

Aizawa turned to his class and with a slight clear of this throat got all of their attention. He tilted his head slightly in the direction of a path leading around to the left of the temple. “Stay close, the paths get a little convoluted from here on out.”

Some of the students tilted their heads in confusion. The temple was obviously the center of the cemetery, so they don't see why they were pressing further into the complex.

It was Kirishima who piped up. “Is there any reason we're going further in?” he asked.

Aizawa cast a glance over his shoulder, as he had already started walking and said, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Chapter Text

When Aizawa had said convoluted, he’d forgotten to mention massive as well. They moved passed the large rock garden behind the temple, instead following the winding paths that lead further into the greenery.

They passed small bamboo fountains and stone lanterns standing on moss covered ground. Conifer trees of varying sizes, shaded parts of the path. At one point they even crossed over a stream on a low stone bridge.

The memorials were spread out. Often placed in pairs at the edges of small clearings. The further in they went, the newer the years became. Pretty soon the entire class, not just Midoriya, started recognizing the names of active or recently active heroes.

As they continued on, most of the class got a sinking suspicion they knew exactly which memorial they’d be stopping in front of.

Those near the front saw their teacher hesitate slightly before marching on into the next clearing. It was similar to all the others. Two neatly kept memorials stood to their left. A couple of benches were placed around the clearings edge, under large stoic trees. The gravel path continued on the other side of the clearing, veering slightly to the right.

However, this time they didn’t continue through. Aizawa turned and made his way over to stand beside the memorials. Present Mic following closely behind.

The class gathered around tentatively. Hyper aware of how the gravel crunched under each footstep. They gave their teachers and the memorials a wide arc. No one wanting to be the first to step into their space.

After a minute or two of them all standing in suspension, Aizawa sighed and raised an eyebrow at them. “You can come take a look,” he stated. “It’s not going to bite.” The memorials weren't the one the students were concerned about, but Aizawa’s invitation did get people moving.

This being a newer memorial, many thou not all of the names were colored in red. It was easy to see who had passed based on which frames contained pictures. Out of a graduating class of 18, there were six sets of frames were filled in.

Except, “Sensei,” Ashido piped up. “Why do you have your pictures in here?” She pointed, drawing everyone’s attention to the two pictures of their teacher. The first showed him in his hero gear, capture weapon flying around him, hair up and eyes glowing read, perched atop a streetlight at dusk. The second was something they hadn't seen before.

It was fairly recently, the scar he got from USJ clearly showing. The trees in the background had just started to change color indicating it was early fall. Aizawa sat on a park bench in nice but casual clothes, his hair pulled back in a simple bun. It didn’t seem like he had noticed the camera, too entranced by the ball of fuzz in front of him. He was leaning over and dangling a bit of string in front of a tiny kitten, frozen mid jump in the picture. A ghost of a smile played on his lips.

Aizawa shrugged, “Statistically, underground heroes die much younger than other pros and only around 40% reach retirement, 20% of that being because of permanent injury. I put it off after USJ, but doing so a second time would have been illogical. Heroes depend on luck just as much as skill and I’m not willing to bet my own luck against whatever terrible pictures Hizashi would have chosen.”

While mention of USJ made most of the class shift, his statement hit the internship group particularly hard. They’d heard in debriefing how their teacher had been saved seconds before death by Suneater. Two close calls in one year were two too many.

Next to him, Present Mic was grimacing slightly at his direct response. It had been a hard conversation when Aizawa had brought it up. It wasn’t uncommon for pros to have their pictures selected, but to go the extra mile and have them installed had left him with a heavy heart. He knew that to Shouta it was just being realistic, perhaps even a way for him to claim control over his own death, but to Hizashi it almost felt like giving up.

“Awww, you know I would have picked something adorable, Shoutaaa,” Hizashi teased and fake pouted, in an attempt to force the mood up. They would needed it for the conversation coming next. “Maybe one of you in your sleeping bag. Or that time our cat stowed away in your capture weapon and you brought him to school. Or maybe something from highschool, like when you drew eyes on sticky notes and put them on your face, so you could sleep during class.”

At the back of the group Nemuri covered her mouth to stop a slight chuckle, remembering well how an exasperated Hizashi had described that last fiasco to her over the lunch table. It was one of many times she had lamented being a grade above them and thus missing class shenanigans.

Aizawa none to subtlety elbowed him, getting a slight squawk out of the Voice Hero. “High school photos are rarely used given that the class photo functions as a ‘before’ picture for everyone.”

This brought everyone’s attention up to the class photo. It was easy to pick out their teacher. Present Mic still had his signature hairstyle, though it only reached up about a foot. He had a shining grin on his face with one arm slung over the shoulder of a disgruntled Aizawa. Half of Aizawa’s face was covered by his capture weapon and another quarter hidden by his hair. Still, tired but distinctly amused eyes peeked out and squinted at the camera.

Behind them stood Iida Tensei holding up a peace sign over Aizawa and the girl to his left’s head. The girl was about a head shorter than all of them. She had silver shoulder length hair, glasses and smile that suggested barely repressed laughter. Most notably, her pictures were filled in and her names weren’t.

“There are a lot of heroes you have never heard of,” Aizawa started. “Sometimes that’s by choice, but a lot of the times it’s because they never get a chance. We lost our first classmate about six months after graduation.”

He leaned over to point at the names Ito Ritsuko, Likely: The Opportunity Hero. Her hero picture seemed out of a photo shoot, just her posing in costume. The costume, itself, was a simple dark blue with silver accents, built for speed with a few hard plates for added defense. The second was at UA. It showed her, Hizashi, Tensei and Nemuri all crowded around Aizawa, who was currently sleeping on his desk. She was the one holding the camera, her face in the foreground taking up half the picture with a blinding smile.

“Ritsuko was our classes Vice-President. Her Quirk was Probability, which allowed her to see the likelihood of another's actions and to a lesser extent the reasons behind those actions based on observing them. The longer she had to observe, the more accurate and insightful her predictions became. It was extremely useful for keeping a bunch of teenagers and a hyperactive class president in line.” Beside him Present Mic pouted.

“Given that it was an analytical quirk that did not help with combat power, she spent most of her time at school training in hand to hand combat.”

“You mean most of her time at school kicking your ass in hand to hand combat,” Midnight called out, earning her a glare.

“I looked up to her,” Aizawa admitted, “She helped me, not just in combat training, but in life. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I wouldn’t be half the hero I am now without her help. She was my hero.” He gave the class a second to let this sink in. He knew they held him in high regard, so for him to call someone his hero, meant a lot.

“She graduated at the top of our class and received offers from many of the top agencies, but decided to got with a relatively unknown one just outside of Tokyo. She said it was where she had the highest likelihood of doing the most good.”

Aizawa closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself, before continuing. “There was a hostage situation. A young girl being held in a department store by two villains. Pro’s from half a dozen different agencies had been called in, but it hadn’t made a difference. It was a worse case scenario, one of the villains having an extremely sensitive bomb type quirk and the villains quirk unknown. One wrong step and they would have lost not only the hostage, but a couple of city blocks as well. They’d been in stand off for five hours and the probability of the hostage surviving was falling.”

“Ritsuko proposed a switch. Herself for the girl. Unlike the other heroes on the scene she was young, the villains didn’t see her as a threat. She told her agency that she had a higher chance of making it out the the current victim. They made the switch. Twenty minutes later, both villains were found at the scene unconscious. The bomb villain had a slight concussion and a cracked rib. The other one had been pepper sprayed before falling to sleeping gas. They,” he stopped when his breath hitched, and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “They found her collapsed at the edge of the room.”

“The other villain had a poison quirk. A fast acting neurotoxin passed on through touch. It took less than a minute to stop her heart.”

Present Mic had taken Aizawa’s hand now, rubbing small circles on it and was leaning against him. The fact that he wasn’t getting glared at or thrown on the ground was a testament to Aizawa’s current state. The class was quite, the more emotional among them sniffling and graciously accepting tissues when Midnight offered them. They hadn't known this person, but seeing their teacher shaken up and emotional, even if the Aizawa equivalent of emotions was standing still with his eyes closed, was a lot.

He gave them a while to collect themselves, definitely not needing it as well. “She had told them the probability was higher, though she tactfully neglected to mention the exact odds. Ritsuko knew exactly what she was walking into when she traded her life for the girls. I’m sure she hoped to make it out but she wasn’t counting on it and I’m sure to her in the moment, it didn’t matter. She was a hero and she wanted to save as many people as possible. The Pro she was under said she proposed the plan after catching a glimpse of the girl through the store window. I don’t know how much she could have seen, but it was enough.”

“The child was only six at the time, but I’m sure Ritsuko saw her potential even then. She has one of the strongest healing quirks I’ve ever seen. She’s graduating with her doctorate this year and has already saved over 200 people in her internships alone.”

“Logically speaking, she made the right choice. She did what a hero is supposed to do, what she was trained to do. As a hero, I can’t hold it against her. I would have made the same choice, I have made the same choice.” Aizawa emphasized, lips pressed in a thin line.

“But as her friend,” he said, looking stoically over his watery eyed class, “I wish it had been someone else.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa’s words hung in the air, almost tangible. “In my experience,” he continued, “I’ve noticed Heroes tend to forget that to save anyone, they need to save themselves too.”

“I won’t say that the sacrifices heroes make aren’t worth it. At the time a sacrifice was made, I’m sure it felt necessary, I’m sure it felt like the only way. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. We will never know, because they made their choice and we can’t ask them about it.”

“In my time teaching I have expelled 154 students.” The abrupt change of subject startled the class back to full attention, bringing back those who had gotten lost in their own thoughts. “As you know, I expel someone when they have zero potential. I won’t let someone continue to chase a dream they can’t achieve. It’s much kinder crush it and let them start something else, then allow them to continue limping along.”

“I’m sure to the students it doesn’t seem like kindness. It probably seems cruel, they probably hate me for it. I doubt any of them ever considered that I was saving their lives,” Aizawa said, lowering his eyes, that had at some point become fixed on a cloud, back to his class.

“It’s a pretty common and publicized statistic that 40% of people that graduate from a heroics program don’t continue past their first year in the field. It’s played up as finding better uses for their quirks, realizing they prefer support or simply not being cut out for the job. It’s less publicized that 5% of that statistic is due to crippling injury or death.” He gave a second for this to sink in.

“Those, of course, are the national averages. The statistics for UA have always been lower and have decreased further in recent years. Now, only about 3% of UA’s heroics graduate’s don’t make it into their second year. However, nearly all of those are because of deaths.” He heard the sharp intake of breath from half the class, and felt Hizashi’s hand grip his a little tighter.

“UA trains the best heroes in the country, arguably the best heroes in the world.” A bitter smile crossed Aizawa’s face. “Sometimes I think that’s the problem... We’ve trained such good little heroes. Their all so selflessly, so eagerly,” he spits, unable to keep the disdain from his voice, “willing to make that sacrifice.”

“They don’t think about what that means, or who they leave behind. And I can’t even hold it against them, because they're just doing what they’ve been trained to do, what we’ve trained them to do. And I won’t- I can’t-” His voice breaks, for the second goddamn time in one conversation. Can it really be called a conversation? It’s more him talking at a captive, silent and, if he’s being honest with himself, probably scared audience. But dammit, if this is what it takes to get it into their thick, self sacrificing skulls, he’d do it a hundred more times.

“I’ve buried 14 of my students,” Aizawa says quietly, in an effort to keep control of his voice and he hardly needs the volume as everyone’s scarcely breathing. “Not all of them died in the first year but still…” It shouldn’t have happened. I should have done something. They were too young. What did we do wrong? Why were they the only heroes there? Why hadn’t it been someone else? The thoughts barged into his head strangling off whatever sentence he was about to say. But he couldn't choke out just yet, he had more to say. He had more to ask.

He let himself have a few deep breaths, ignoring how they shuttered on the way in and out. This was it, this was why he brought the class here in their first year instead of waiting until the school required trip in their third. Because he knew it would be too late by then, they won’t take his words seriously, not after three years of conditioning otherwise. And god dammit his heart couldn’t take it, not with this class. Not with these kids. His kids.

“I’m going to ask something of you I don’t have any right to,” Aizawa continued. “It goes against everything I have and will be teaching you as you become heroes. It’s isn’t fair to ask and it’s selfish.” He couldn’t help how harsh his words sounded, because he did hate himself for asking. It wasn’t what heroes did, and they were going to be heroes, “But I’m going to ask anyway, because I couldn't live with myself if I didn’t.”

“You already know this, some of you unfortunately better than others.” He cast meaningful glances at Todoroki, standing straight up face carefully blank, Iida, who was looking directly at him jaw clenched a slight shimmer in his eyes, Bakugou, who was standing eyes closed scowl for once absent from his face. And lastly Midoriya, who was watching intently, like he could transcribe every word into his brain, if he stared hard enough.

“When you are heroes,” because it was true that they would be, “you will be put in dangerous situations where you have to make hard choices. Where you will have to weight lives against each other. I won’t ask you look the other way because you’re heroes and I know you won’t.” And that was true too, he’d expel them if they did otherwise.

“But allow me to ask, that before you do something reckless, before you make a choice you won’t be able to learn from, promise me you’ll take a second to think about all the people who care for you, about all the people you will leave behind…. And then, if you can, find another way.” He blinked rapidly, looking up to the sky, “Be selfish. If not for yourself, then for the people who love you.” The last words came out as barely a whisper from his closing throat, “For me.”

The was a few second of silence, Aizawa working hard to force the emotions back down inside of him, but he didn’t get a chance because, “Senseeeeiiiii,” Ashido wailed, all but hurling herself into him. The surprise made him take a step back, but he didn’t get any further as there was now a bright pink teen crying and clinging to the front of his black shirt.

“We’re all going to get really strong and be really careful, and we’re all going to look out for each other and yell at each other when someone's not being careful. And we’ll call for backup and wear armor and rest and eat right and do our laundry and and and,” she choked up, sobbing into his shirt, “We’ll become really great heroes, so you won’t have to worry about us.”

Aizawa looked down in a daze, hand hovering hesitantly over her shoulder, completely at a loss of what to do. Luckily no one looked to him to speak, because honestly he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to at the moment. Instead, the rest of the class started chiming in.

“Yeah,” Kirishima called out, slamming his fist together in his signature move, “It wouldn’t be manly to make our teacher worry!”

“It’s the least we can do to look after ourselves, after all you have done for us,” Iida started, his attempt at professionalism hindered by the tear tracks down his cheeks.

“I don’t know how these morons are planning it, but you can sure as hell count me to keep their sorry asses above ground, being a hero’s about saving people after all,” Bakugou finished gruffly, trying to ignore how Kirishima beamed at him.

“I’m sure, when we work together, we’ll be able to watch each others backs,” Tsuyu added thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Uraraka cheered, “Just you wait, we’ll become really strong heroes you can be proud of!”

“There’s no way your getting rid of us that easily,” Kaminari yelled.

“Oh, you are never getting rid of us, Sensei!” Hagakure said meaningfully, a slight playfulness filtering into her tone, “Your going to have to come to all of our weddings and we’re going to have you watch our kids, and were going to call you in the middle of the night when we have questions on hero paperwork.”

Aizawa groaned at that, coming back to himself. “God what have I done,” he muttered, beside him Present Mic slung arm over his shoulder and laughed. Still slightly choked up, but bright and genuine and happy.

Far from being discouraged by his words they just seemed to prompt more discussion from the little devils.

“And you have let us be guest lectures for your classes when we all become super famous!” Kaminari called.

“Like you’ll become super famous,” Jiro scoffed, earning her a pout from the electric child.

“And you have to invite us all to your retirement party,” Yaoyorozu added quietly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Hagakure gasped, “Yes, yes!” She cheered waving her arms around wildly, “We’ll plan it! It’ll be huge! We’ll get all the teachers and a bunch your former students, but only the ones you like, which of course means all of us…”

Aizawa tuned her out, momentarily resigning himself to having a giant retirement party. An idea that had never even crossed his mind before, because he didn’t think he get there, but now…

He looked over his class, some of them excitedly bouncing, planning his retirement party. They didn’t seem to agree on when it would be 10, 20, 100 years. How long did these kids think people normally lived? He heard something about there being cats and lots of soft blankets and maybe not too many people because sensei didn’t like lots of attention. Though they were all going to be there. They said it with such confidence, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Some of the others were looking at him and he caught their eyes. There was something different in them. A few still seemed sad, lingering moisture being wiped on sleeves or tissues but… He really got it when he looked at Midoriya, his green eyes magnified by unshed tears, but there was fire in them. He met his teacher’s eyes with fierce determination and Aizawa thought that maybe if the walking embodiment of martyrdom that was the problem child got it, then maybe they all did.

Aizawa looked back down at Ashido still holding onto him and sighed, not even trying to mask his fondness with irritation. “Hey kid,” he said gently, finally resting his hand on her shoulder, “It’s alright.”

He felt her nod against him. “Yeah,” she whispered, voice choked. “But it’s not fair, Sensei.” His brows furrowed, what wasn’t fair? What he asked? But she was the one who had basically thrown reassurances at him. “You have to promise too.”

Oh.

The rest of the class went quite. How had they even heard that? Why did they have such good timing?

“I-”

“You have too!” she interrupted, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Eyes red from crying, but still looking up at him with unbending determination.

“Okay,” he said weakly, feeling more powerless in front of a crying teen then any villain he had ever faced.

Her eyes lit up and she threw her arms around him with a cheer. When he didn’t push away the rest of the class took that as an invitation and it all became too much.

Aizawa turned and buried his face into Hizashi’s shoulder, which made a strong substitute for his absent capture weapon, as at least half the class clambered around him for a group hug.

And if a few tears escaped his perpetually dry eyes into the blondes soft hair, then no one needed to know.

Standing there, surrounded by his amazing kids, his head in the hair of the person he loved most, Aizawa decided that sometimes, maybe, it was ok for heroes to be selfish too.

Chapter Text

To say Aizawa was tired would be the understatement of the century. Aizawa was always tried. Most of the time he was even exhausted. Right now he wanted to sink into the ground and rest eternally, thou he supposed he had just promised not to do that.

It hadn’t been too hard to get the class under control after “emotions” had happened. He let them disperse and wander around the complex for about two hours, definitely not so he had time to compose himself. And when time was up, they had all loaded back onto the bus with little fuss. Nemuri had offered to drive back the car she and Hizashi had come in, so he could take the bus too. And Aizawa had made full use of his husband rights, promptly using him as a pillow for the ride back.

At some point, he had been approached by Hagakure and she had demanded that he come to all of their weddings. To which he had responded that she couldn’t just invite him to all of their weddings. So she corrected herself to insisting that he he had to come to hers, until he gave up and agreed. After that another third of the class had demanded he RSVP for weddings they didn’t even have partners for yet. He supposed he’d need to plan a lesson about having relationships while being a pro hero for sometime in the future.

At another time, Uraraka had shyly asked if he prefer chocolate or vanilla cake to which he had responded strawberry. She thanked him and ran back to the retirement party planning committee, at least he hoped that was all they were planning. Oh god did he have a birthday coming up soon? He honestly couldn’t remember, but they wouldn’t know about that anyway, unless… he squinted up at the blonde who looked down at him innocently. Whatever, he’d deal with it later.

All Might was on shift at the dorms tonight, thank god for that, so they were able to go home, to their now frankly underused apartment. Aizawa had walked with everyone back to the dorms, reminded them of the paper they had due on Monday, informed them that he would not be happy if he got called in because something had been blown up and left the rest to All Might. It was one night, he could handle it. Probably.

But now that he was in the passenger seat of their car as Hizashi pulled up to their apartment, he couldn't bring himself to move.

“Shouta,” Hizashi teased, “Come on, we’re home, it’ll take two minutes to get there.”

Aizawa proceeded to pout at him. He hunched up his shoulders like he normally would when he had his capture weapon on and not for the first time today felt overly exposed without it.

Hizashi sighed and went around to his side of the car opening his door and looking at Shouta unimpressed.

“Are you seriously going to make me carry you?” he asked.

A small smile played on Aizawa’s lips. Mic let out an exasperated and over dramatic huff to cover his laugh, before leaning over and scooping the raven haired up. Aizawa fit his arms around the others neck with practiced easy and snuggled into his shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go home,” Hizashi said, placing a soft kiss on Aizawa’s forehead.

“Hummm,” Shouta agreed.

When they entered their apartment they were greeted by two balls of fluff that promptly ran underfoot demanding attention.

“Hey, hey!” Mic said in English, “Let me put the big cat down and then I’ll deal with you.” Aizawa growled in his arms, which only proved Hizashi’s point and made him laugh.

Hizashi carefully maneuvered into the living room and laid Aizawa down on their couch, which he immediately snuggled into grabbing the blanked the hung on it’s back and cocooning himself in it. Mic turned on the radio to one of his softer channels and went about feeding the cats and putting on a dinner that would be fine simmering for a while.

He worked, humming along to the tune, until he was happy with the seasoning and put a lid on the pot. He brought over two cups of steaming tea and smiled down at his husband who had fully encased himself, only the top of his head peeking out.

With a loving sigh, Hizashi put the tea on their coffee table and leaned over the other man. With a bit of shifting he positioned himself over Shouta, staying propped up on his elbows to keep most of his weight off the other.

“Shoutaaa, heyyy,” he said gently, pulling the blanket down to expose Aizawa’s slightly puffy eyes and grumpy pout. “Don’t pout,” Hizashi chided, as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Aizawa grumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Hizashi said pulling back.

Shouta huffed, refusing to meet his eyes, “I said, I’m not pouting.” And Hizashi had the audacity to laugh at him for that. Shouta tried to push his face away, but his blanket wrap was working against him and the blonde only snuggled in closer.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, “You’re just so adorable Shouta, I can’t help myself.” He pressed a soft kiss right beside the others ear. “I’m really proud of you.”

Below him, Hizashi felt Shouta’s breath hitch. It was ok, he knew this was coming. “You did really good today,” he continued peppering the other with soft, caress kisses. “Thou, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you talk so much,” he teased.

Shouta laughed softly but it was choked, the emotions he’d been trying to suppress all day finally breaking out under the tender love and care of the person he trusted most. “Those kids adore you, Shouta. You’ve done so much for them, they know that, and they just want to make you proud.”

“I am proud,” Aizawa whispered.

“I know, they know,” Hizashi reassured. He brought a hand up and gently started running it through the others tangle of black hair, working out the braid and massaging his scalp just the way he liked it. “You pretend to be all gruff and mean, the hard core teacher that expels everyone, but it’s just a front to cover up how much of a softie you are,” He said, fondly nuzzling up against him. “And your not fooling anyone anymore, you know.”

Shouta groaned, but still pushed back into Hizashi’s hand enjoying the comfort and attention. “I think they figured it out a while ago even.” He moved up trying to catch the others eyes, “Shouta, you didn’t see their faces when you said most underground heroes die young, they were heartbroken.”

“It’s a fact,” Aizawa mumbled, turning away from his husband.

Hizashi sighed, not sure if he’d ever put more love and sadness into a single sound. “They don’t care about the statistics Shouta, they care about you. I know you have a hard time accepting that people love you, and you think that because your rough edges and wear a scary, indifferent facade they can’t, but that’s not true. Not to the people who know you. And they know you now, they know how much you care. You only cemented it today.”

Aizawa stayed quiet and still, refusing to meet the others eyes, so Hizashi continued, “It would be nice if you took your own advice.”

“I don’t always have a choice,” Aizawa defended. “And it’s just more likely.”

“Shouta,” Hizashi admonished, “You’re not a statistic, you're the love of my life.” He felt Aizawa inhale sharply under him and tears prickling his own eyes. “I know it’s hard, but no one’s asking you to be perfect. Just take care of yourself. Try. Don’t see that as the inevitable end, let yourself believe that a happy future is possible. Because it is. I pray for it everyday,” Hizashi looked down at his husband eyes shining, “Fight to be the exception to the rule because, Eraser, you are exceptional.”

Shouta finally met his eyes, black looking into bright green. “I did promise,” he whispered.

A happy, bright, loving smile spread across Hizashi’s face. “Yes,” he said, leaning in for a kiss to the lips, “You did.”

They stayed like that, trading soft meaningful kisses, until Shouta broke under him. And Hizashi held him together as Shouta sobbed, trembled and fell apart in his arms. He whispered reassurances and love, rubbing soft circles on his arms, intertwining their fingers and holding them close to their hearts.

They stayed like that until sobbing became sniffles, trembling stopped and Hizashi wiped all the tears away with kisses and gentle fingers. And they stayed like that a while longer, until breathing became even and content. Until the cats jumped up and piled around them. Until the sun got low and the pot on the stove demanded attention.

And they pushed it off a while longer still, because despite all the promises they could make, they can’t know what tomorrow will bring. But that was ok. Because here, in the moment, they had each other, safe and happy in their arms.

“I love you,” Shouta said.

“I love you, too,” Hizashi answered.

And really, there was nothing else to say.