Chapter Text
BOOM
Adrenaline ripped through Shouta Aizawa’s body like lightning, snapping his eyes open with a jolt. His capture weapon, abandoned in a pile on the floor only seconds before, wrapped itself around his neck. A stack of partly graded papers flew everywhere as he bolted from his desk. Only urgency ricocheted against his skull.
BOOM
The second explosion nipped at his heels through the hallway. Aizawa grabbed the end of his weapon. His heart raced faster than his body while his drowsy brain chugged along, trying to catch up. All that it could come up with were flashfire frames.
The USJ incident.
Hosu.
The fight with the Yakuza.
Shirakumo-
BOOM
The common area. That’s where the noise was coming from. A thought came, but adrenaline drowned it out. All Aizawa could think of was protecting his students from whatever had intruded on his own sleep.
As he got closer, he heard the raised voices of his students. Something about their voices sounded off compared to the urgency coursing through his veins, so he stopped just outside the door before entering.
“Look, I told you it’s not going to work-”
“JUST GIVE ME ANOTHER BAG, LOSER!”
“Hey, man, maybe we should just wait for Todoroki to come back-”
“DO YOU WANT THE POPCORN OR NOT?”
Popcorn…?
Finally, the situation dawned on Aizawa. Lethargic rage boiled in his stomach, turning the edge of his vision red. He placed the end of his capture weapon back into the coiled layers around his neck. With an alarming level of self-control, he quietly stepped around the corner into the doorway. Sure enough, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, and Denki Kaminari sat in the middle of the room. Bakugou held what looked to be the remains of an eviscerated popcorn bag. He dumped the pieces into a pile of matching rubbish while already extending his other hand towards Kaminari, who clutched a plastic-wrapped bag to his chest. Kirishima sat next to him on the couch, hair tied back with a bandana.
None of the boys noticed their homeroom teacher in the doorway. Instead, Bakugou snatched the bag from Kaminari. Just as the hot headed teen was about to activate his quirk on another unfortunate pack of popcorn, Aizawa erased it with his own quirk. Kirishima was the first to look towards the doorway. His eyes stretched wide.
“WHAT THE HELL? WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?”
Bakugou’s typically quick reaction time failed him. Seemingly out of nowhere, Aizawa’s capture weapon yanked the bag out of his hand. Finally, Bakugou noticed his seething teacher in the doorway, followed soon after by Kaminari.
“Care to tell me what you’re doing?”
Aizawa’s voice growled with sleep. Whatever concern once occupied his mind was now replaced with sleep deprived rage. Ever the one to challenge, Bakugou was the first to speak up.
“Sparky wanted some popcorn, but the microwave is broken and Icy Hot isn’t here to pop it for him-”
“Sorry Mr. Aizawa, I told him it would be too loud but he wouldn’t listen-”
“SHUT UP PIKACHU! I’M NEVER HELPING YOU OUT AGAIN-”
“Quiet down, both of you.”
Aizawa’s unkempt hair floated down over his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. The adrenaline wore off, taking his anger and replacing it with apathetic irritation. He sighed. The air stung his eyes as he reopened them to see all three boys staring at him with varying levels of apprehension. With a flick of his wrist, Aizawa snapped the bag of popcorn towards Kirishima with his capture weapon.
“Why didn’t you just pop it on the stove?”
Kirishima rubbed the back of his head and gave a weak smile.
“Well… Mineta’s on dish duty and he hasn’t done them yet so…”
He pointed to a precariously balanced mound of dishes on the counter and sink. Aizawa’s brow furrowed.
“So you decided it would be easier to use Bakugou’s explosions instead of washing the dishes.”
All three boys nodded. Aizawa sighed again.
“Alright, I’ll talk to Mineta about the dishes. But for now, you three will take care of them and he’ll do the next shift. You can pop it on the stovetop when you’re done.”
Immediately Bakugou went red in the face and seemed to turn into a gremlin.
“WHAT. WHY, WE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!”
“Bakugou, we’ve talked about your using your quirk inside. I could give you the whole week on dish duty if you would rather.”
Dead silence. The three students made their way to the sink with heavy feet. Satisfied, Aizawa turned out of the room.
A clock in the hall displayed the time: 8:16. He continued towards his room at a much slower pace than he left it, his mind unconsciously calculating how much sleep he had gotten. Taking grading and patrol into account, he had gotten…
Around 45 minutes…?
Aizawa’s eyelids drooped hopelessly downwards.
God, I need a nap…
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. For a second, he was tempted to ignore it, but remembering Eri’s sudden episode yesterday, Aizawa found enough concern to pick up his phone and answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Aizawa.”
Aizawa sighed. Hizashi Yamada, the man on the other end of the line, was infamously long winded. The voice hero had been talking Aizawa’s ear off since they were in high school. He was the only one permitted to do that, honestly, but today was not the right day. Though the teacher was accustomed to extreme lack of sleep, today he felt especially fatigued.
“Hey Yamada, is there something wrong?”
“Uh… I don’t really know. Tsukauchi asked Nezu to bring everyone together, so he asked if I would get ahold of you.”
“Is it about the League of Villains?”
“Um…”
Yamada trailed off into uncertain silence as if the other man were missing something. Aizawa picked up the pace towards his room.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Wait, before you go…”
His hand was on the doorknob, about to turn it.
“I just wanted to ask, since Tsukauchi may tell everyone about it, since it’s Kurogiri and all, but… how are you after… you know, yesterday…”
Aizawa felt as though he had walked into a brick wall. The memory of yesterday’s events twisted his lungs into a knot, catching his breath in his throat. Hot acid poured over his brain before his whole body went numb.
It all came back.
Shirakumo.
No.
Shirakumo’s corpse.
How had he forgotten?
For what seemed an eternity, Shouta Aizawa stood frozen, caught between reality and memory, unaware of his hand gripping the doorknob.
“... Hello…?”
Nothing went through his head. Yamada’s voice came through the phone, softer this time.
“... Shouta, you okay, man…?”
Finally, Aizawa shook himself awake. Realizing he had been holding his breath, he took a deep inhale. He then entered his room, plopped down, and slid into his boots.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
It came out more curt than he meant it to.
“C’mon, don’t give me that bullshit.”
It was more pleading than angry. Somehow that was worse. Anger is easier to deflect than genuine concern. Aizawa’s heartbeat quickened and unbidden tears lodged themselves into his throat. He opened his mouth to speak.
“...I-”
A loud knock interrupted words he didn’t really want to say anyway. Aizawa quickly pressed the receiver against the black heroes costume he had fallen asleep in while grading.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Shinso’s here for training.”
Damn. It is Saturday, isn’t it...
Bakugou’s gruff voice was followed by footsteps fading back into silence. Aizawa brought the phone back up to talk.
“I’ve gotta go, I have a student here for training. I’ll reschedule with him and be right there.”
With that, 1-A’s homeroom teacher hung up without waiting for a response. For a moment, he sat with only blank space fizzing in his mind. The crumpled yellow sleeping bag in the corner of the room caught his eye. He stared at it. Then he sighed and let his forehead drop to his hand. Unfortunately, that only served to show the papers he had knocked over in his rush to investigate the explosions.
“Can’t catch a break.”