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Shota is a big fan of the little pleasures of life, things like petting a cat or drinking a latte just the right amount of sweet, even watching the sun rise as he comes back home from patrol without any injuries to add to the tally. One of those little pleasures is watching his co-workers’ expressions when he does something even a little out of his established routine. Somehow, over the course of the last eight years, he ended up with a reputation akin to Nezu’s even though he had not quite been the chimera’s personal student in his school days. Sure, when he came back as a teacher assistant he had worked directly under Nezu and basically took over most of his responsibilities as a teacher so he could focus on the principal side of things. The chimera did trick him into getting an Ethics, Society, and Law degree after teaching his class for three years, and basically placed him as his successor in the heroics teaching department, but he doesn’t think he’s done anything to earn such uneasy looks entirely due to a slight change in schedule.
At least he’s not the only one entertained, he figures after seeing Nemuri’s amused smirk and the slight shaking of Ginjiro’s shoulders giving away the suppressed chuckles even with the mask hiding his expression.
He could have stayed at the apartment and come in a few minutes before class as usual, but unfortunately, the school’s security system would not have granted him access to the filed camera recordings otherwise. He made sure to store up sleep enough to be able to gather all of the necessary evidence this morning before presenting it to Nezu, and was more successful than expected. All Might apparently doesn't think his private training warrants any footage wiping and that’s about to come back to bite him in the ass if Shota has anything to say about it. He’s also taken the liberty of looking into the schools mentioned in Midoriya’s file, and while both Endo Elementary and Aldera Junior High turned up suspiciously clean, the latter is the one still employing two of the teachers his student had mentioned. He would need a warrant to go any deeper than surface-level research, hopefully acquiring some of the footage schools are required to keep for at least five years, but that shouldn’t be hard to obtain if he used a few of his contacts.
“You’re up early, I didn’t even see you leave,” his husband’s voice pulls his attention from the room and he looks to the side to see the blond approaching with a large to-go cup from his favorite coffee shop near their apartment. “Stopped by when I went to feed the cats, thought you might need it for today.”
“Definitely will,” he gratefully accepts the cup and takes a sip, savoring what all his friends refer to as a calorie-bomb-latte. The amount of sugar he puts in his drinks never ceases to amaze them, but what did they expect from someone who constantly snacks on jelly pouches?
“So…” Hizashi’s arrival apparently signals it’s safe to approach him because Nemuri is quick to sit on the corner of his desk and almost on top of his now closed laptop. “Who’s getting expelled today?”
“Nah, that’s his ‘imma kill someone’ look,” Ginjiro corrects, leaning against the desk by Nemuri’s side, “just ring us if you need help hidin’ the body.”
“You might join him in the grave if you don’t stop talking,” Shota hisses, glaring at both busybodies crowding his desk.
“Don’t want ‘em to see ya comin’, gotcha!” Ginjiro quips, tipping his ridiculous cowboy hat, and Shota just knows he’s winking under the mask.
“I do need to talk to you about Masaki-kun,” Nemuri interrupts before any more arguing can take place.
“That’s the one who used his quirk on the green bean, right?” Yamada asks and Shota can’t help but mouth back ‘ green bean ’ with a deadpan look. “Midoriya-kun, Sho. He’s small, like a bean, and green. Anyway, what about Masaki-kun?”
“Apparently it’s not the first time he’s used his quirk unsupervised out of the allocated quirk counseling time,” Nemuri explains with only an agreeing nod at the nickname, “it took me a few tries but a couple of girls admitted to having been under the effects at some point.”
“What?” Ginjiro’s tone loses all its playfulness and the sentiment is clearly mirrored by Shota and Hizashi as well.
“Easy there, it was consensual, it’s the first thing I checked,” Nemuri is quick to placate them, to their collective relief, “they use it like some party drug when hooking up, he’s already on thin ice and I’ll be talking to Nezu about suspension, but he’ll have to personally apologize to Midoriya-kun for malicious use of his quirk today either way. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that he’ll probably be called to the principal’s office sometime today, probably during homeroom or first period. I’d escort him there but you know how my class is when unsupervised.”
“Hado-chan’s getting better,” Yamada points out.
“I think she means Amajiki-kun might implode without her there to diffuse his classmate’s attention,” Shota corrects with some amusement. 3-A is louder than he’d like, probably due to two years of Nemuri’s influence as their homeroom teacher already, but they’ll make decent heroes. The Quiet One just needs to get his face away from the nearest wall whenever someone so much as looks at him, and it doesn’t help that Togata is usually in the walls since getting his provisional license. “I’ll escort him when he’s called, I need to talk to Nezu so it’s as good a time as any.”
Nemuri and Ginjiro trade a knowing look but Shota doesn’t elaborate and Hizashi refrains from adding fuel to the gossip fire that starts when those two are together. They probably realize it has to do with the staff-wide announcement that All Might is not allowed alone with any student without supervision, but he doesn’t want to spread any more information until things are set in stone after talking to Nezu.
It doesn’t take long until they part ways, those with homerooms to their respective classrooms and those without to prepare their class material. Shota makes it to the door of 1-A with a couple of minutes to spare and hovers by the door, getting a look inside before any of the hellspawn notices him. Situational awareness exercises as soon as possible, he reminds himself when the only people to notice him at the door are Todoroki and Midoriya, the latter being crowded by the usual suspects - Uraraka and Iida - as well as Ashido and Asui, most likely asking about the cast on his arm. Only when the bell chimes do the students break up their little groups and move to their seats.
“Ten seconds, I see there’s been some regression,” Shota points out, walking up to his desk and taking another sip on the half-empty to-go cup before placing it on his desk. “Midoriya-kun will be out of the cast in a day or two, anything else is none of your business, understood ?” the vehement nods most of the class gives in response are enough, and he pretends not to hear Bakugo’s muttering about Midoriya being weak - he’ll deal with that later - as he moves on. “I’ll remind you again that most heroics teachers have their schedules open to help students safely train for the festival during their after-school hours, so if you want to reserve some time, get on the school app and do it before it’s all reserved. Yes, Mineta?”
“Any hero teachers? So like, could I get some time with Midnight?” the purple-haired student asks with a dreamy look, lowering his hand. Shota has never felt the urge to strike a child, but every now and then a student seems extremely set on becoming the exception.
“Yes, you could,” at your own risk. Nemuri would not put up with any sort of harassment, and he almost wants the little shit to try, just for a chance to issue his first expulsion of the year. He’s itching to do it. Damned school board members and Nezu’s need to play chess with people.
“Nice,” Mineta fist pumps and he does his best not to roll his eyes.
“ Midoriya Izuku, please make your way to the Principal’s office,” the system announces into the classroom in a robotic voice, and Shota swears there’s some saying about thinking of the devil that applies in this situation.
“Come on Midoriya–kun, I’ll escort you,” he calls when his student doesn’t move, prompting him into getting up and moving, “free study until the first period, don’t be loud,” he calls before closing the door behind them.
“Sensei?” Midoriya-kun calls and with a single look Shota can tell the question took all the courage he had in him right then, the kid looked a minute from hyperventilating.
“You’re not in trouble,” he’s quick to assure, “we’re going so that Masaki-kun can apologize, no need to be nervous.”
“A-apologize? For what?” His student looks up at him in confusion even as he starts obediently following behind.
“For using his quick on you without consent,” Shota explains, not liking the fact that he even had to, it should be obvious, expected even. But he’s quickly learning Midoriya runs on a different set of expectations he should try his best not to meet.
“I’m used to it,” the boy points out with a shrug and Shota stops walking, turning to face his student.
“That in no way makes it okay for it to happen, Midoriya-kun. He owes you an apology, and it won’t go unpunished either, that’s how things are supposed to work,” he makes a point of meeting his student’s eyes as he says it. “This isn’t Aldera, kid. We try to do our best to make this school a safe environment for everyone. I’m sorry we’ve failed so far, but I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.”
“Not your fault,” Midoriya mumbles after a couple of seconds of processing, eyes downcast.
“But it would be if I didn’t act once I knew,” he points out, entirely aware they are no longer talking about the quirk incident.
Midoriya doesn’t seem able to come up with a response to that and they finish their path up to the Principal’s office in silence. The door opens just as they stop in front of it and anyone would think it was due to censors, but Shota knows there’s a hidden camera on the doorframe Nezu keeps an eye on and the door will fail to open if the visitor is not someone he would like to see.
“Well, come in,” Nezu’s voice calls from inside the office and he places a guiding hand on Midoriya’s back to prompt him into walking in. Given the kid’s past experiences with teachers, he wouldn’t be surprised if there are also a few with principals, but that’s all he can do to remind the kid he’s not alone. “Welcome, Midoriya-kun! Am I a mouse? A bear? A dog? Most importantly, I’m the principal! Please come closer.”
The chimera’s usual enthusiastic greeting seems to loosen up the kid slightly, shoulders no longer visibly tense, and Shota deems it safe enough to drop his hand, instead crossing his arms and standing behind his student once they stop in front of the desk.
“Arita-san, Masaki-kun,” he greets with a nod and receives one in return from Arita, the white-haired, middle-aged woman standing by Nezu’s desk with a resting ‘i’m nice’ face - a perfectly neutral close-lipped smile and slightly widened eyes - that Shota would find it annoying if he wasn’t aware of it being perfected by years of working with media. She is both in charge of Public Relations lessons and the 2-J homeroom, so her presence is not unexpected.
The teen by her side is almost as tall as her and has straight pastel green hair half covering one of his eyes, though the uncovered one seems to be enough to express his wish to be anywhere else. He doesn’t move until Arita discreetly elbows him into offering a shallow bow in greeting.
“Aisawa-san, Midoriya-kun, I apologize for my student’s actions, he will be punished accordingly,” Arita declares with a deeper bow, light grey eyes more focused on Midoriya than Shota, as expected.
“It’s alright,” his student replies almost inaudibly, but a nod from his co-worker tells him she heard him well enough.
“Masaki-kun?” Nezu prompts and all eyes turn to the older teen.
“I am sorry for using my quirk on you without permission,” Masaki reluctantly offers “It was unbecoming of me as a student of this prestigious institution and I will do better in the future,” it’s immediately followed by the same shallow bow. He looks at Arita expectantly, but she only raises one brow and looks at Shota’s student in reply.
“It’s fine,” Midoriya assures, a little more confident than the first time, offering the boy a shy smile. “Um- your quirk is p-pretty cool, Masaki-senpai.”
The teen’s bright orange eyes widen for a moment before narrowing slightly in thought.
“You think so?” Midoriya shrinks slightly under Masaki’s full attention but nods enthusiastically all the same.
“Y-yeah! You’re in management, r-right? Uh- it’s probably pretty u-useful to know what people actually want without filtering their thoughts,” his student elaborates and Shota is not surprised by the boy’s enthusiasm for quirks, unlike the room’s other occupants, “I usually just think about a quirk’s application in heroics, not that yours wouldn’t be good! It would probably be great for information gathering, and if you could pick what emotion it focuses on it would be a super effective way to calm victims down or overwhelm villains, but since you’ll probably work at an agency I’m not s- uh, sorry, I’m- I didn’t mean to be creepy.”
“No, no, it’s- thanks,” Masaki smiles slightly and Shota notices with amusement that his cheeks are tinged with pink, “I’m really sorry though, the headache after was probably awful. I didn’t mean for it to last that long,” he adds with more sincerity, to the satisfaction of all present teachers.
“Recovery Girl gave me a pill, It’s okay,” Midoriya assures, and Shota clears his throat in order to avoid further awkward conversing. Both students look at him, Masaki with the decency to seem ashamed.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he instructs, receiving a nod in response. Good enough. “If that’s all, I have a few things to discuss with the principal.”
“Yes, we certainly do,” the principal confirms, a slightly somber tone telling him it will be an interesting conversation.
“If you like, I can escort Midoriya-kun back to class once I drop off Masaki-kun,” Arita offers, to which he nods and motions for his student to go. “Thank you for your time Aizawa-san, Principal.”
Shota waits until the door is soundly closed before dropping his arms and placing his hands on the jumpsuit’s pockets instead, looking down at Nezu expectantly. The stare-off lasts a couple of seconds before the chimera sighs and hops off the chair, walking toward the couch on the side of the room.
“Tea, Shota-kun?" the principal offers, bypassing the couch for the electric kettle hidden in the corner cabinet.
He takes a moment to mourn his caramel latte, probably growing cold at his desk or already claimed by one of his students, before nodding. Caffeine is caffeine, and he’s rather fond of Nezu’s current blend of black tea, something with berries that is always perfectly sweetened once the teacup makes it to his hand. It says something about Nezu and Hizashi that both know exactly how sweet he takes his beverages - be it tea or coffee - even though they call it a waste of a perfectly good drink, and he would be touched if they didn’t constantly remind him to watch his sugar intake. They don’t see him talking about Nezu’s hidden obsession with cheese or Hizashi’s preference for American-style breakfast and its unhealthy amount of bacon, do they?
“Well then,” Nezu starts once they’re both seated on the couch nursing their respective cups of tea, “I fear I may have… miscalculated.” That alone has Shota’s brows rising of their own volition, it’s rare - though not impossible - for Nezu to admit to wrong when the admission itself is not a calculated choice, and this sounds like one of those times.
“How badly?”
“Not irreparably,” the principal replies, which clarifies exactly nothing, and the look Shota sends him likely says so. “There are things you don’t know, and I fear some of them are not my secret to tell, but I shall do my best to paint a complete picture with what I’m able to share. As you know, All Might joined our staff as a transitional period into retirement,” he nods, they had been told as much. “Well, he was also looking for a successor, someone to take up his mantle as the Symbol of Peace, and Midoriya-kun caught his eye. Yagi-kun trained the boy for ten months, until the entrance exam, and apparently chose to continue doing so after his enrollment. I fear that some recent revelations have driven him desperate to make Midoriya-kun master his quirk properly, to unforeseen consequences.”
“You mean he’s been torturing a student in the name of training, Nezu. There’s no other name for making Midoriya-kun break his arms over and over if not abuse.” Shota can’t help but clarify if only to make sure the chimera understands the gravity of the issue.
“He probably won’t see it that way. In his mind, these are all efforts to better the child and make him ready to be his successor,” Nezu points out, a placating paw raising when Shota moves to protest. “I don’t agree. We have badly failed a student in our care, and there will be consequences, but most likely not as severe as we would hope. The commission is one hundred percent sold on All Might as the ultimate success story in heroism and would hardly let us prosecute him for this.”
“I don’t want him near my class. As their Homeroom teacher, assigning who trains them is under my purview, and I want him gone, ” Shota insists, not likely to budge on this point. “This is not the first time a child is needlessly hurt under his supervision and it won’t be the last unless he’s constantly under supervision. If you can’t fire him without setting the Commission loose on the school, tell him to look for a successor in the third year!”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, for reasons not under my control.” To Shota’s credit, or maybe the teacup’s, his white-knuckled grip on the cup doesn’t break it. He sets it down on the desk by the couch all the same, removing the temptation to throw it in frustration. “I will start working on assigning him a different role in the school, but for now we must settle for having his classes supervised. You may delegate Mochizuki-san’s grading to Shio-kun and take it up yourself, or appoint someone to supervise in your place.”
The chimera’s expressions may be harder to read than a human’s, but familiarity and context tell him Nezu knows exactly which option he will choose even though he would rather not hand anything over to Shio. That man is entirely too rigid in thinking for Shota’s taste, and they have gotten into more than a couple of debates over the Law part of the Law and Ethics curriculum, with Shio being most of the reason Shota insisted on teaching all three years of Law and Ethics in Heroics to his own homeroom and ended up sharing his first-year classes in other departments - all except Support which requires a more specialized degree in engineering law - with Mihara. There are only so many hours in the day, and this is only one of his jobs.
“He’s no longer allowed around Midoriya-kun unsupervised, preferably none of my other students either, and I will be informed of any approaches,” he insists, not keen on arguing the previous point when he knows his hands are as tied as Nezu’s unless they want the Commission interfering in the school more directly than controlling some of the school board.
“I’ll ask Majima-san to set up an alert through the cameras,” Nezu conceded, and Shota feels slightly better about the situation.
“To my private and work phones,” he specifies, because patrol won’t keep him from protecting his student if any cameras catch Yagi approaching him after curfew. Nezu only nods, he probably understands Shota’s need for some control over the situation better than most, given the number of hidden cameras placed around campus. “I’ll supervise Foundational Heroics and also take over the assigned theory time since apparently, Yagi-san thinks it’s unimportant.”
If Nezu was human, Shota is pretty sure he would be nearly pulling his hair in frustration, but as is he can only tell the principal is displeased by the slight twitch of his nose, a small tightening around his mouth that told Shota the chimera was stopping himself from grinding his teeth, and the little bit of claw showing on his hold of the teacup.
“I’ll be sure to let him know, Shota-kun,” Nezu takes a sip of his tea and Shota takes a moment to do the same, which is followed by a second one at the pleasing flavor, “is there anything else that needs taking care of?”
“I want to open an investigation into Midoriya-kun’s junior high. There’s reason to believe they’re guilty of failure to curb quirk use at best and child endangerment and abuse of all kinds at worst,” he reveals, and Nezu’s fur rises slightly at the revelation. Shota is aware of the chimera’s lack of tolerance for any form of abuse, which is how he understands that the issue with All Might is probably bigger than he knows if the principal can’t do anything about it at the moment. He would usually act on it immediately otherwise, he’s seen it before.
“I’ll look into it personally,” Nezu offers, and he knows the chimera may not feel the same human emotions they all do, but he clearly wants to make up for not fixing the Yagi situation. Getting to tear a corrupt institution down is also a good bonus. “You have more than enough on your plate, isn’t Todoroki-kun in your class this year?”
“He is,” they both already knew that, but he supposes it’s a good reminder that the principal still remembers. “He’s nothing like Toya, but reminds me of him in the worst ways,” Shota sighs, “I can’t act on it if he doesn’t come to me, but I’ll try to make myself an option. It’s still early and he is in the dorms now, which certainly helps.”
“I’ll do my best to help when the situation calls for it,” Nezu assures, which is pretty much a guaranteed win, whatever shape it ends up taking since the issue is the number two hero, standing on a pedestal only slightly easier to reach than All Might’s.
“Thank you, Nezu,” Shota says honestly, having the crafty chimera on his side is always a relief when it comes to public issues. He can beat up villains in the shadows any day, but dragging Endeavor into a court or a deal is out of his league and he’s all too aware of it.
With Nezu pulling the strings behind the scenes and Hizashi willing to lend his voice to a worthy cause, he’s safe in the belief that they can face most things. Except for the symbol of peace, his brain unhelpfully reminds him. Things would be so much easier if he could just beat up All Might in a back alley and call it a day.
“My pleasure, Shota-kun,” the chimera assures, teeth bared in a rare display of what humans might interpret as a smile but he is all too aware of what every other species knows it to be: a threat.
Shota would know, he learned it from him.
The conversation shifts to safer subjects after that, discussing the measures being taken to assure the students’ safety during the Sports Festival weekend, a few changes in schedule Shota wanted the principal’s opinion on before implementing, and the monthly attempt to talk the chimera into firing Shio and hiring someone more sensible. They wrap things up an hour or so later, with Shota having to leave for his lesson, and the thought only comes to him as he’s crossing the doorway.
“Nezu,” there’s a resigned tilt to his tone as he turns back around to face the principal’s desk, arms crossed, “the access to Midoriya-kun’s quirk registry history.”
“You did remember! Good.” The cheerful note tone of the chimera’s voice is a bit frustrating, but he’ll apparently have to fight for every bit of information pertaining to Midoriya if he wants to know anything more than Nezu is allowed to tell. “I’ll email it to you at once.”
He absently wonders what sort of non-disclosure the number one hero or the HPSC has the principal under, before deciding it’s none of his business and way above his pay grade.
The remaining classes of the day go on as normal, and his period with 1-A improves his mood slightly, the sight of Midoriya’s cast signed all over in various bright colors becoming less of a negative reminder of his inattention and more of a relief at the class getting along. Sure, some have trauma-bonded since the USJ - he can’t fault them for it since he was similarly affected - but nothing can force a friendship if they really don’t want it to happen. In contrast, Todoroki seems more pensive than usual, throwing glances at Midoriya every now and then with eyes uncharacteristically lacking the usual cold regard he saves for his classmates. Interesting.
The fifty minutes of class are used by having the students debate over whether or not accidental quirk use is in hero or police jurisdiction - the correct answer is both, though emergency calls do get routed to the precinct first - and how to react when witnessing it, especially what to observe and the questions to ask to be sure it was in fact an accident. Shota himself had to run after a couple of shoplifters who’d distracted others with quirk use before learning what to look out for, nowadays he usually trips them with his scarf during their attempted escapes. Depending on the items stolen, he may just pay for them and let the troublemakers go. He tells the class so, and that sparks a discussion on the ethics of reporting a crime vs tackling the reason for the crime that lasts until the bell announces the end of the period.
These kids, he sinks his chin behind the capture weapon to hide an amused smile. He can still hear arguing from down the hall, no doubt due to Bakugo and Uraraka continuing their debate. Good luck to Yuzuki in trying to reign them in for class. The explosive teen has a very inflexible view on villains - he did not like the reminder that not every crime is committed by a villain, sometimes they’re just a criminal and should be treated as such - while Uraraka is quite defensive and argues vehemently for getting criminals like that in touch with outreach programs and a support network in order to prevent the need for the crime instead of just chucking a fine or jail time at them and calling it a day. It’s surprisingly refreshing, and he has a feeling the girl may have a personal stake in the matter. Something to look into eventually, the list keeps growing.
Shota’s decent mood sinks once he steps foot into the staff room, merely hoping to gather his laptop before moving to his office but being stopped by the unwelcome sight of All Might in his deflated form waiting by the desk he left it on. He deliberately takes a deep breath and finishes making his way to it, doing his best to ignore the man.
“Aizawa-kun,” Yagi greets, apparently incapable of taking a hint.
“Yagi-san,” he returns in a tired tone, “can I help you?”
“I was hoping we could talk in private,” the blond casts a glance to the other side of the room. Shota had spotted Ginjiro and Ishiyama the moment he had walked in since his life often depends on his situational awareness, so he was aware of their company.
“I was just on the way to my office.” He grabs the laptop from the desk and leaves, trusting the hero to follow if he insists on a conversation.
Their path is made in silence, with only a couple of coughs from the emaciated man behind him breaking it, and he manages to unlock the door and place his laptop at his desk before the throat clearing from the blond grabs his attention. Shota sighs, there’s no use delaying the inevitable. Still, he takes his time organizing the papers on his desk into a neat pile and setting them aside on top of the laptop before taking a seat, motioning for Yagi to take one of the chairs in front of the desk, usually reserved for his students.
“Aizawa-kun,” the hero starts after a moment, looking surprisingly unsure given how confident he’d been a moment before. “I understand that you are not fond of me, but to let it reach the point of not allowing me to speak to my own students is entirely unbecoming of a hero of your caliber.”
Shota is sure they’d hear a pin if it dropped during the silence that followed.
“Is that what you think this is?” He replies after a moment of pure incredulity.
“I see no other reason for such drastic measures. I understand I may have been a little too harsh on young Midoriya, but he needs to learn to overcome his weaknesses.” Yagi continues, tone understanding if not condescending. “Interrupting his training in this manner will do nothing but set him further back.”
“And where did you obtain your degree in quirk counseling?” Shota questions instead of diving straight into the point brought up.
“I don’t-”
“Your teaching license, then? Surely, you must have some sort of credentials that make you uniquely sanctioned to torture my student repeatedly with no consequence?” He raises one brow and pushes down the spark of satisfaction from the hero’s flinch at his choice of words.
“I have years of fieldwork, and young Midoriya’s quirk is quite similar to mine, which makes me uniquely qualified to supervise his training,” Yagi emphasizes, seeming upset. Good.
“Well, then I suppose that the next time I hear a cop mention they should have pursued a career in heroics, I should hand them a license and say have at it?” He presses, sarcasm seeping into his tone.
“That would be an entirely different situation!” the blond snaps, frustration clear in the set of his bony shoulders and narrowed sunken eyes.
“All I see is an unqualified person being handed a job they have no training for and insisting they know better,” Shota points out, arms resting on the table as he leans forward slightly. “If you had an iota of training in quirk counseling you may have realized that the only similarity between his quirk and your own is that it can make him punch hard. There’s hardly a transformative aspect, and his strength manifests more as a form of accumulated energy than a simple strength enhancement.”
“That’s not- I know how his quirk works.” Yagi seems completely baffled at his observation, and it makes Shota wonder what makes him so sure.
“How could you possibly know better than him? It’s his quirk, All Might.” He can’t help but emphasize, “you supposedly wanting him to be your successor doesn’t mean anything.”
If Shota thought the man looked surprised before, it had nothing on the perfect imitation of a goldfish he was doing now.
“How- who said anything about a successor?” Yagi asks after coughing into his hand. Shota wordlessly grabs a tissue from a desk drawer and hands it to him.
“Nezu told me about your interest in Midoriya,” He said simply, and was glad to have provided a tissue when more blood exited the man’s mouth at his declaration.
“He had no right!” The blond stands, chair clattering to the ground. How dramatic.
“I have every right to know anything that may interfere with teaching my student to the best of my ability,” he climbs to his feet as well, leaning casually on the desk, “what you have no right to do is ask a child to repeatedly break his own bones and expect any sane person not to take action. I may not be fond of you, as you put it, but I at least respected you as a hero and as a person,” he gives the hero an assessing look, hoping to gauge whether his words had any effect or were merely being reflected back by ridiculous blond bangs. Besides his hands tightening into fists, he had no outward reaction. “I suppose you’re still a somewhat decent hero, for all that’s worth with the time you have left.”
“I did not come here to be insulted, Aizawa-kun,” the disappointed tone had no effect on the underground hero.
“Then what did you come here for?” Shota asked in exasperation, “unlike you, I have teacher duties to fulfill and I take them seriously.”
“I take my duties seriously! I came to request that you cease this behavior and rescind that ridiculous rule!” The blond’s temper flared as well as his quirk, buffing him up as he glared at Aizawa. He barely lasted a millisecond before deflating, coughing into his hand.
“You don’t act like it. You ignore and outright refuse advice from those with more experience in the teaching field, but take no steps to obtain a teaching license of your own. You continuously put my class at risk not only with your position but the inability to show up on time or deigning to read your emails. Your repeated carelessness for Midoriya’s well-being during training was the last straw, All Might. ” Shota blinks, letting his quirk recede now that the blond is back to his skinny form and doesn’t look about to change it. “Your continued employment is due to the Commission only. The only thing worse than your blatant neglect would be them sending the number three hero to poke his feathers where they don't belong. But keep pushing your luck, and Nezu may just decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Is that a threat, Aizawa-kun?” He can’t read the hero’s tone at all but doesn’t let it faze him. Physically, All Might is as much of a threat to him as a particularly determined duck.
“No, only facts.” Shota shrugs, “if I was threatening you, you would know.” He gives that a moment to sink in - Yagi is not the only one allowed to be dramatic - before continuing. “I won’t budge on your contact with students being supervised, and Nezu already signed off on it. I am also going to personally supervise your teaching of Heroics classes, and take over teaching the theory you decided to neglect, as he will surely be informing you soon. You will not approach Midoriya alone or send others to do so for you, and you will wait for when he is ready to talk to you again, understood?”
The stare-off lasted longer than he would have liked, but the blond broke it with a world-wary sigh and resigned tone.
“As you wish, Aizawa-kun,” Yagi shakes his head, “I only hope we don’t all come to regret this.”
He refused to entertain any more of the subject, and sat back down on his chair in clear dismissal, moving the papers from the laptop and opening it. It didn’t take long for the hero to take the hint and Shota heard his door click closed a moment later.
How absolutely tiring.
Instead of returning to work immediately, he decides to check his email. Nezu did finally send him access to Midoriya’s quirk registry history and he wastes no time in accessing the government website to verify just how late of a bloomer his student is, sparing a quirk of his lips at the picture on the profile, all bright eyes, and shining smile. It didn’t prepare him enough for the numbers he read as soon as the page loaded completely: the exact date of the day after the entrance exam.
Midoriya Izuku manifested his quirk at the entrance exam.
Shota did not want to believe it, but it was irrefutable, and staring at him mockingly from the screen, along with the quirk name - who names their quirk superpower? It sounds like All Might named it instead of his quirk-obsessed student - and description. Strength enhancement. That was pretty much what the two lines of description said in a nutshell, entirely unhelpful and so very telling. Calling Midoriya in for a quirk counseling session immediately went from high priority to urgent, though he had no choice but to wait until the kid’s arm was healed and in condition to be used.
An apology is also necessary, he decides after recalling his words at the quirk assessment test. He meant to either push a lazy or scared child to do better or give up, use him as an example that one can’t just coast by on their quirks, but Midoriya himself was probably the one student in his classroom most aware of that, having been quirkless until fourteen.
Fourteen years, he can’t help but repeat to himself with wonder and sadness in equal measure.
As an underground hero, he was no stranger to the darker aspects of the job, and it came with the grim knowledge that statistically speaking, Midoriya was lucky to have lasted this long. Admittedly, it has been a while since he’s brushed up on minority statistics, but not long enough since finding a suicide letter on top of a building during his patrol, stuck under a pair of shoes, the author long gone. Thank kami, it was not a familiar enough sight for him to become used to it, but one or two of those letters mentioned quirklessness and how society punished them for it until they couldn’t take it anymore. He needed no statistics to know he was so incredibly grateful that Midoriya held on until now. Not that he would call now any better, with his self-destructive quirk and torture training, but Shota now had the knowledge to act on these things instead of watching from the sidelines, and nothing would stop him from helping this child become the best hero he could be.
You’ll make it, kid. I’ll make sure of it.