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It wasn’t as if he wanted to have friends.
But, Shota supposed that only the weak and desperate would admit that… at least aloud. Besides, no one in his new class, the Heroics course of Class 1-A, could even be considered a bit suitable for a friendship. They were either too brusque like Sensoji, too loud like Yamada, or too casual like Shirakumo. In fact, they all acted like children, screaming and lumbering about as they wiped snot from their nostrils. It was disgusting.
Today, the class was as usual. Shota had his notebook out, his pencil scribbling out brief lines of cramped characters as his homeroom teacher explained the importance of preparedness before a fight. They had gone through the usual routine: Shota slumping into his seat, the grinding chatter of his classmates, Yamada blowing out eardrums during roll call, as was the cycle of Yuuie. Shota could only slightly bemoan his status between the lines of gratefulness. At least the General Studies course was quieter… Maybe it was because they were trying to work hard, not swagger around and caw at the first opportunity of power.
“Your first instinct before a battle is what truly displays your goals, your ulterior motives, your emotional points during the fight,” his teacher said.
Skrit. Skrit. Skrit. Twenty pencils moved against paper in tandem. Shota himself scrawled out a simple, “Instinct = goals.” Simple, concise. He once more turned to gaze up at the chalkboard. There were remnants of white dust against the edges, like the light frosting of teacakes, while charts, clipped and messy, dotted the empty areas. Perhaps they--
A paper ball smacked his cheek.
It went tumbling down quietly into his palms, looking practically innocent. Like a tiny baby bird. He left it there, a niggling annoyance leaving him to scan the room for the perpetrator. His disgruntled expression landed on a sheepish Shirakumo near the front.
Shirakumo’s grin was loose lipped, full of devilish mischief. His clothes always fell messy against his frame, jacket unbuttoned and tie practically falling from its knot. Though, this time, he shrugged apologetically, miming something Shota couldn’t quite understand. Shota was ready to just ignore Shirakumo and brush the paper ball off his desk when a pencil jabbed into his arm.
Yamada looked equally sheepish from his neighboring seat. He pointed at the ball and whispered, “Hey! I think that’s for me, didn’t mean to get you all caught up in the crossfire, Aizawa. Now! I’ll just get it off your hands…”
Shota snatched it away before Yamada could grab it. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have done that, probably should’ve just shoved it off and got over with it, but another paper ball to the cheek was entirely unappealing. The teacher was lecturing. This wasn’t a time to fluff feathers and twitter idle conversation off to the person halfway across the room.
Yamada watched, surprise and bother mingling into something indescribable. “Hey! I was just trying to-- no, don’t throw it! Don’t, don’t, don’t-- you threw it.”
The paper ball soared at a perfect arch to land very neatly in the trash can. If Shota was a lesser boy, he might’ve smirked. Nothing like hitting a sweet bullseye after being twisted up by all the birds chirping about him for the last hour.
However, Yamada looked significantly less happy. “Aizawa! Hey, I-- there was a very important message on there! Listen--”
“Yamada, what is the reason many rookie heroes fail their first missions?”
Yamada practically fell out of his chair as the teacher addressed him. He twisted about, dumbly gulping at the board like a fish out of water. An awkward motion later, and he managed to stumble out of his seat, straighten up and say far too loudly for an educated guess, “Because they weren’t prepared!”
“Lower your volume-- While that is the correct answer overall, please be more specific.”
“Because they failed to evaluate the situation beforehand and rushed in with a disadvantage due to their lack of knowledge!”
“Thank you, Yamada. While your logic is admirable, I prefer a correct answer because you listened rather than guessed. As I was saying, in the 2008 incident of the Conductor vs. Crab Claw, the Conductor had nearly...”
Yamada flopped back into his seat, displeasure written plainly upon his face. He shot a rotten stare to Shirakumo who only shrugged sheepishly in return, before shooting Shota an even more rotten one. Shota pretended he didn’t see it. However, forgiveness was imminent for at least Shirakumo as soon enough the stink eyes that Yamada was giving his friend turned into hearty finger guns and Jaken pon games. Very clear distractions.
This was why Shota didn’t want friends.
...
To Shota’s chagrin, the game of ‘Let’s-See-if-the-Teacher-Catches-Us’ carries on unabashadley. While there are no longer paper balls filling the air like tiny flocking birds (which he was very thankful for), he could make out the very frantic movements of his personal erratic neighbor from the corner of his notes. Yamada, seemingly having already forgotten the bout of humiliation yesterday, carries on gesturing to Shirakumo across the room.
First period it was a cowboy duel where they both tipped their imaginary hats to the other and got ready to plug bullets into bodies. Second period it was a heartfelt silent rendition of Romeo and Juliet. Third period, so far, the two were quietly taking notes, but at any moment Shota was ready for them to rise and start reenacting an All Might battle.
Skrit, skrit, skrit. Pencils busied on papers. All twenty students were absorbed in the lecture… any moment now. Skrit, skrit, skrit. Skrit, skrit, skrit. Skrit, skrit-- Two pencils went down. Yamada leaned forward on his seat and Shirakumo whipped around, both with mischief in their eyes. Fantastic.
Shota had first attempted to ignore their fun and games, but after hours upon hours grinding gears over dull drudgery ‘normal’ work while the two gestured in space was becoming unbearable. Especially when Yamada started making small sound effects under his breath thirty minutes into the first period. Maybe Yamada thought he was being sneaky and silent, but Shota was not as easily swayed. In fact, how has the teacher not noticed?
“It’s fine now. Why? Because, I am here!” Yamada said under his breath, making poor attempts at flexing. His arm movements, fevered and overarching, stretched out to Shirakumo near the front, this two sizes too big grin slapped on his face.
Shota’s grip tightened on his pencil. Just concentrate. Just concentrate. It’s not his problem if Yamada and Shirakumo kept moving around, making noises, strutting about like two fine peacocks on a summer’s day-- all of this grinding knives into his skull. It wasn’t his problem they managed fine in class with barely any listening. It just wasn’t. Right, it wasn’t. He relaxed.
“Come at me villain!” Yamada whispered, drawing a hand forward to coax an imaginary attack.
The lead of Shota’s pencil broke as it was smashed into the paper. His hand shot out, grabbed Yamada’s outstretched arm, slammed it back onto Yamada’s desk, and hissed, “Oh no. Looks like I attacked you when you weren’t looking-- listen and take some notes and maybe you’ll be more aware next time.”
The same smugness reared in Shota for a moment at Yamada’s dumbfounded expression, yet this time, he was unable to completely stifle his cheshire cat grin, the too-toothed smile slipping out for a mere second before vanishing behind the depths of his matted black hair. He withdrew his hand from the other’s wrist and returned to deal with his lead pencil issue.
Yamada and Shirakumo didn’t play another game for the rest of the day.
...
At first, Shota assumed the reason they stopped yesterday was because they were absolutely dwarfed by his sudden surge of boldness. He couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, they were even more insistent during the first period than before. They twittered excitedly, making grand soundless gestures. Shota could’ve sworn Shirakumo used his Quirk to turn a cloud into a false target for a moment. Then, having already been wound up quite enough already, Shota mimed a finger gun, killed both Yamada and Shirakumo, and glared pointedly at them.
He had really been hoping for another dumbfounded expression, but instead, they both grinned and returned to jotting down notes with swift hands. Not his desired effect, but it was better than Yamada pretending to have been stabbed by an imaginary knife Shirakumo threw.
Shota was able to take care of them the first period, but when it hit second, they started up again. Simple dismissal to them, whether it be pretending to overthrow them or assassinate them was enough to qualm both of their games for the rest of the period. This cycle made a half irritating and half comfortable continuance for the rest of the day where it was occasionally punctured with his barbaric smirk after a particularly good ‘death’ from Yamada or Shirakumo.
Zipped up and ready to go.
Shota slung his backpack strap over his shoulder. He was no stranger to be the last person out of the classroom when it hit the same glorious time of 15:10, however, he was pleasantly able to finish his homework and take a short nap before the end of the period, having already taken to destroying Yamada’s and Shirakumo’s antics early on. Without the two making flashing signs at each other from the corner of his eye, he would dare to say English class was almost agreeable.
“HEY, HEY, HEY, AIZAWA!”
Yamada’s voice might as well pinned down the lingering bit of satisfaction Shota had today and kicked it as hard as it could in the stomach. Shota could barely draw any time to actually creak his neck up and look at the other before Yamada went off again.
“I’VE NEVER QUITE SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT! WHO’D THINK OUR ONE AND ONLY SHOTA AIZAWA HAD THE ABILITY TO HAVE FUN! SEEMS LIKE HIS USUAL 8-15 GLOOMY GUS ROUTINE IS FINALLY OVER! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ALL OUR LISTENERS TODAY, AIZAWA?” Yamada crowed.
Shota’s face crinkled in innocent confusion. Fun? Nothing was different today from all the other days. What variable finally decided to make Yamada talk to him in such an explosive manner?
His disgruntled expression must have said it all as Yamada invited himself to continue. “WHY, NOBODY HAS EVER DOWNED ALL MIGHT IN SUCH STEALTHY SKILL AS YOU DID IN THE BATTLE OF THIRD PERIOD YESTERDAY! ANNNND, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN HOW YOU TOOK TWO VILLAINS DOWN POINT BLANK THIS MORNING WITH YOUR IMPECCABLE AIM?”
“What?” Shota said, his lower tone so disorientating after the trumpet screeches that was Yamada. Then, he managed to catch up. He stifled a sigh, opting instead to arch an unimpressive eyebrow. “I stopped you from distracting me in class so next time if one of you two gets called up by the teacher, you won’t embarrass yourself.”
“Suuuure, Aizawa! C’mon, admit it, you liked it!”
“Stopping you from making fools or yourself like heroes should? I do like it.”
“A bit of a hypocrite considering how happy you looked after you killed both of us this morning. Even though you say we were distracting everyone by playing a game, you joined in y’know!”
A simple word of , “No,” nearly fell from Shota’s mouth, but after a pause, he had to shamefully admit he did. He had joined in their little game, had smirked when he ‘shot’ Yamada and watched Yamada’s little dramatic slow motion death, had been amused when Shirakumo’s eyes widened when he ‘betrayed’ them in fourth period. Worst of all, he had fun. It was stupid silly ridiculous fun he shouldn’t have participated in, but fun nonetheless. Finally, he let a, “Yeah,” slip.
“Let’s hear that again. Aizawa says…”
“I’m a hypocrite, now shut up.”
Yamada’s laughing fit rolled in the air like thunder. He gave a hearty slap on the back to a blank faced Shota before turning to yell across the room, “YOU HEAR THAT, OBORO?”
Shirakumo gave a thumbs up from where he was loading his pencil case into his backpack. “Loud and clear, Hizashi!”
Yamada returned to look at Shota, giving him a little one over from head to toe. Shota cocked a brow.
“Hey, wanna hangout with us after school?” Yamada said idly, shrugging on his loud yellow backpack.
“What?” Maybe Shota didn’t really hear right. Hangout after school? He couldn’t really remember the last time someone has ever directed such a question to him.
“Yeah!” Yamada smiled. “Oboro won’t mind and you seem like a cool guy!”
“Don’t you guys need to do homework.”
“Well, yeaaaah, but we just do it together! More brains, better grade and all that jazz! So, how’s about it?” Yamada stuck out one hand, an extension of an olive branch one might say.
Shota looked about vaguely. When was the last time he’s spent time out of school with a friend? Certainly not this year… maybe not last year either? He was having trouble keeping up. But, shouldn’t heroes focus on grades, focus on studies rather than heading out and having fun everyday? He was sure of it yesterday, but today where he found his homework completed and tension relaxed from the games Yamada and Shirakumo would play, he… he was at an impasse. The classroom was empty. The both of them were expectant. Shota didn’t take Yamada’s hand, instead, he stuffed his own hands into his pockets. “Just once...”
“What?”
“I said just once.”
“YEAAAAAAAAH! I promise you won’t regret it.”
“I already do.”
As Yamada responded with a barking laugh, Shota’s mouth quirked up into that strange little smile of his.
Maybe Shota did want friends after all.