Work Text:
Aizawa Shouta is known for his handling of “problem students.”
His job starts at the beginning of every new student cycle. Nedzu, Shouta, and the 1-B teacher– in this case, Vlad King– examine the new batch. Vlad gets the kids that are relatively well adjusted, the ones that primarily need to work on strength and technique.
Shouta gets the more interesting cases.
If he were forced to give an example, he’d take the four recommendation students. Tokage and Honenuki are average teenagers with good quirks and connections. Todoroki and Yaoyorozu…
Todoroki, at the beginning of the year, could be described as aloof, bordering on hostile to his peers. He also actively refused to use half of his quirk.Then Midoriya did whatever he did to shatter those walls.
Yaoyorozu had– and still has, to some degree– severe, nearly incapacitating confidence issues. She is a brilliant young woman with an absolute mastery of her quirk, but she would second guess herself under pressure.
They both needed help, and Shouta’s class would give it to them.
That wasn’t to say that all his students’ cases are so extreme. Some mostly needed to learn how to use their quirks properly in a controlled environment.
Aoyama Yuuga is supposed to be that kind of student. His quirk hurts him if he uses it for too long. Simple enough, lots of people have a problem like that. Shouta’s own quirk gives him serious dry eye. What sets Aoyama apart is the severity of his situation. He requires a support belt in order to control his Navel Laser at all, and has used it since he was seven. Shouta also distinctly recalls Aoyama saying at the Quirk Apprehension Test that his stomach would be seriously harmed if he used his quirk for more than a second. It was Shouta’s job to make sure he didn’t irreparably injure himself while trying to expand his limits and grow towards becoming a hero.
That doesn’t mean that’s his only issue that needs addressing.
That brings them to right now.
Aoyama sits at his desk in an empty classroom. It happens to be the one closest to the door, the easiest escape route if he decides to bolt. Shouta could easily stand in front of him and be a big, imposing obstacle. He could intimidate the kid into staying put. Instead, he sits at Ojiro’s desk one seat over. The conversation wouldn’t go well if Aoyama kept getting reminded of Shouta as an authority figure and not someone who wants to help.
Shouta pulls out two jelly packets. He keeps the mango one for himself and gently tosses the strawberry one onto his student’s desk. Aoyama doesn’t touch it. He looks Aizawa dead in the eye, with the same little smile on his face as always. Someone else, like Midoriya, might avoid his gaze. Not Aoyama.
“So, Aizawa-sensei,” he starts. Isn’t it interesting that he goes first when most students let Shouta take the lead? “Might I ask what this is about? It’s after school, after all, and I do have homework to get to.” He positions his elbow on his desk and cups his chin, like this is the least important thing in the world. His eyes are still locked onto Shouta’s.
It’s Friday, and the homework isn’t due until Monday. It’s not pressing. But two can play at nonchalance.
Shouta leans to the side, against the back of the seat, and sighs. “Kid,” he says, “I’m going to be direct. I hope you’ll give me the same courtesy. Your grades are shit, and I want to know why.”
Someone like Yaoyorozu would be shocked by his language. Someone like Kaminari might think it was funny to hear a teacher curse.
Aoyama tilts his head, completely unaffected. His eyebrows furrow. “Surely they’re not that bad, Sensei?”
He knows exactly how bad his grades are. But Shouta will say it anyway.
Shouta drops copies of Aoyama’s report cards on his desk. He lets the kid read through, noting the decline. “At the end of the first semester, you had the third lowest grades in the class. You have now dropped to the lowest. I want to understand what’s happening with you. If you don’t help me help you, you may get put on academic probation. You could lose your internship with Yoroi Musha.”
Shouta isn’t trying to scare Aoyama, but he wants to see the kid’s reaction. Someone like Ashido might panic. Someone like Mineta might beg forgiveness.
Aoyama does neither. He either doesn’t care or does a hell of a good job hiding it.
He brushes his hair behind his ear. “ Je suis désolé , Sensei. I’ll do better. Is that all?”
Is that all?
Give up on him , says a stupid little voice at the back of Shouta’s head. He clearly doesn’t want to be here. Let him fail.
Expel him , says a different stupid voice. Make him care.
Don’t waste your time on him.
He ignores all the stupid, illogical thoughts. He’s here for the problem children. It’s why he became a teacher in the first place.
“No,” Shouta says, “don’t apologize. We both know that doesn’t make things magically better, not if you don’t mean it.” He stares at Aoyama. Aoyama stares back, still with that little smile.
It may be his imagination, but he thinks he sees the smile twitch.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what it is that you want from me, Aizawa-sensei. Some people are simply not the strongest academically, non? Someone has to be last, and my mind is not quite as brilliant as my sparkle.”
There’s a grim acceptance that doesn’t fit with what Shouta knows about the kid, but it does remind him of something.
At the Provisional Licensing Exam, Aoyama fired off a beam to act as a beacon for other students. Shouta had assumed it was for the remaining members of the class, as that’s who ended up responding. Iida, however, had confided in him Aoyama’s true intention afterwards– it was a sacrifice ploy to give the others a chance to succeed. He hadn’t intended to pass the exam himself.
At the time, Shouta had chalked it up to recent “heroic” efforts from the kid’s classmates and simple naivete.
Maybe he had been wrong.
Clearly there’s more to Aoyama than what everyone sees- what the kid wants everyone to see. Shouta has to dig deeper, peel back the shiny surface to find what he’s truly made of.
Someone has to be last. Why does Aoyama think it needs to be himself?
For a kid who projects an air of narcissism, he sure has a martyr complex.
What other instances could Shouta be missing?
Careful. If he spends too long on the past, he’ll never get to what’s bothering his student now.
Aoyama’s not being forthcoming– because nothing in life can ever be easy– so it’s time to break out the List and see if he can’t put those investigation skills to use. Kid has one hell of a poker face– which should be a red flag by itself– but Shouta has over a decade as a pro hero. There’s gotta be a crack somewhere.
Item one:
“How’s your internship going?” he asks, going for something close to conversational. “It must be tough, working with a top ten hero, especially one who’s been around as long as Yoroi Musha. How is he as a mentor?”
Aoyama blinks. He wasn’t expecting the change of subject, and that’s partially the point. “Yoroi Musha is… fine.” There’s hesitation, but it feels more like confusion and collecting his thoughts, not anything incriminating. “He’s incredibly skilled. He helps us work on finesse rather than brute force. He also keeps track of our limitations and doesn’t overwork us.”
Shouta nods. It feels like Yoroi Musha isn’t the problem, which brings them to item two: Classmates.
“You’re getting along well with Ashido and Hagakure?”
Aoyama’s smile actually seems to widen. “ Bien s û r , they’re the closest friends I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t want to work with anyone else!”
Shouta was already pretty sure they weren’t an issue, but the confirmation is nice. The pair invited Aoyama to sit with them during lunch, which is a vast improvement over him sitting alone in the classroom for much of the year. Still, that doesn’t mean everything’s alright socially.
“How about the rest of the class, is anyone giving you trouble?”
“Of course not! The class is so kind, there’s no trouble at all.”
Shouta struggles to think of a way Bakugou is kind, even if the kid has mellowed out a bit.
That brings to mind the one student Aoyama actually sought friendship with on his own…
“You’re also pretty close to Midoriya, right? How are things going there?”
Aoyama’s eyes widen. “Midoriya? He’s- I mean- we have much in common. I suppose we could be considered close, but really, who doesn’t want to be close to him- with him? Friends. Yes.”
Shouta raises an eyebrow. It seems he’s accidentally hit something, though probably not what he’s looking for. Still, he makes a mental note. Young love and heroics can get complicated at the best of times, and the year has been rocky enough already. “Complicated” can easily turn into “dangerous.”
He knows that all too well.
Still, it seems that Aoyama’s social life is approaching normalcy for someone his age. If things are interesting , it’s in a way that’s not Shouta’s problem. No bullying or isolation.
“It’s nice that your class is pretty close,” Shouta says. “Especially since the mess that was this summer.”
He means for that to be a closing statement, a transition to item number three, but something about what he says causes Aoyama’s shutters to come crashing down. The smile thins and the guard raises. Shouta loses any progress that he’s just made.
What the hell did he say?
“ Oui ,” Aoyama says. For the first time, he breaks eye contact. “The summer. Is that all, Aizawa-sensei? Am I free to leave?”
He phrases it like he’s being detained by the police and not talking to his teacher. He braces against his desk like he’s about to flee.
Shouta sighs. Apparently he has to be more careful if he wants to get to the bottom of this and still have his student’s trust.
“Just a little longer,” he says. “Then you can go.”
Aoyama studies him. He relaxes back into his seat. Well, for a given value of “relax.” Kid still looks way too tense.
They were doing so well, and then Shouta had to… what? Was it the summer that set him off? Is this a trauma response from that whole mess, not being able to help save Bakugou?
It has to be part of it, but he gets the feeling that there’s more. He needs to keep digging, but Aoyama’s clearly running out of patience.
Back to the list. Item three…
This topic is more difficult to broach than the other two. Some kids get offended that he even dares to ask, and Aoyama is already defensive. If he plays this wrong, he might not get another chance. But if this is where the problem lies, then he has to at least try.
Aoyama is waiting for him to continue. The smile is there, if only barely.
Shouta takes a deep breath, in and out. He looks Aoyama right in the eye.
“Kid, I need you to be honest with me– how is your relationship with your parents?”
The smile falters, just for a second. The mask cracks. He catches himself quickly, but not fast enough.
Something is going on between Aoyama Yuuga and his parents.
“We’re just fine, Sensei. There’s no need to be concerned.” His voice is strained, the words clipped.
Shouta shakes his head. “Aoyama, something is happening, and it’s bad enough to affect your school work and risk your career. If it involves your parents, there are ways that UA can help-”
“My parents would do anything for me,” Aoyama interrupts. His tone is surprisingly dark. “And I would do anything for them. I don’t want to- I can’t let them down. As for my grades- they’re my fault alone. I’m simply not smart enough for UA.”
Shouta almost laughs. “Not smart enough? Bullshit. You’re plenty smart, and I know you don’t want us to know it. Being underestimated is a great strategy, but I’m not your enemy. The school wants you to succeed. If you’re really struggling, Aoyama, we can help you.”
The mask shatters so hard Shouta’s surprised there’s not a physical noise. Aoyama leaps to his feet, his desk a barrier separating him from Shouta.
“You can’t help us,” he hisses. “No one can. Not when we’re -”
He stops, eyes widening. He slaps a hand to his mouth, trying to hold something back. Tears spill down his cheeks as he grabs his bag and runs out the door.
Shouta doesn’t stop him. This was always a possible outcome, even if it was the least desirable.
The jelly pouch sits forgotten on Aoyama’s desk, the only sign that the kid had been there at all. He sighs as he puts it back with the others. He gathers his things and heads back to his apartment in the teachers’ dorms.
Something is deeply wrong in the Aoyama family, and Shouta gets the feeling that he barely scratched the surface.
Just as Shouta expects, Aoyama doesn’t show up for Saturday training. Midoriya tells him that Aoyama is ill. He looks like he wants to say more, but he leaves it at that.
It’s not unusual for Aoyama’s quirk to make him sick. Still, he usually at least tries to make an appearance before being sent to Recovery Girl.
Hagakure and Ashido head to their internship alone, and Shouta spots concern on Ashido’s face as she looks back.
He instructs Iida to check in with the kid every so often. Shouta will give him the weekend to rest– god knows he probably needs it.
Until then, he’ll take the time to do some research.
Shouta has met Aoyama’s parents a few times. There were the dorm visits, of course, and his mother had attended the Parents’ Day exercise.
Aoyama Claire, née Agreste, age 41. Quirk: Light Butterfly. Born and raised in Paris, France. Moved to Japan ten years ago with her husband and young son. A rather nervous, emotional woman, at least in Shouta’s experience with her. Very concerned whether Yuuga was “making friends” in their most recent interaction.
Aoyama Akio, age 43. Quirk: Laser Pointer Eyes. From an old-money family, but he did rather well for himself in the imports business. Studied abroad in France, met his now-wife, moved back to Japan several years later. A joyful man with too much energy.
UA did a background check on the Aoyamas at the beginning of the year, coming back clean except for Claire’s estranged brother being arrested for villainy years ago. The Aoyama parents certainly seem like nice, loving people who adore their son, but Shouta knows how looks can be deceiving.
If there was a problem in the family, why would it become more intense after Aoyama moved to the dorms?
“My parents would do anything for me,” Aoyama said.
What did that mean?
Aoyama, despite all efforts to appear otherwise, is a good kid. His whole damn class is made up of good kids who have been through so much this year. And good kids don’t always acknowledge that they need help. They take the bullet and swallow their pain so that they’re not “burdens”, even when it doesn’t have to be that way.
It’s absolutely illogical and there’s no way for Shouta to fix it. All he can do is wait and make himself someone worth trusting.
The kid’s not in class on Monday either.
The front corner desk is empty. Aoyama’s not gossiping with Ashido or tapping one of his gel pens on the table. More people are giving his absence concerned glances. Midoriya looks miserable.
It’s only Iida’s reports that Aoyama is at least reading his texts that keep Shouta from busting down the door.
There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him that he’s missing something, something big.
“You can’t help us,” Aoyama said. “Not when we’re-”
Can’t help us.
Can’t help us.
Maybe it’s not a problem between Aoyama and his parents. Maybe the whole family needs help.
“Not when we’re-”
When they’re what? What could possibly be so bad that he thinks they’re beyond saving?
He could bring this to Nedzu. The rat could probably figure it out. But if he ever wants Aoyama to trust him, he can’t break the kid’s confidence.
Shouta is on his own.
Night finds Shouta grading papers at his kitchen table. Eri is already asleep, so his only company is the lamp overhead and the sound of the rain against his window.
He should be asleep too, but he’s rarely in bed this early. Most definitely not tonight.
Tomorrow, if Aoyama’s still not in class, he’ll have to visit him. He can’t let “giving him space” become avoidance on either side.
He sets down his red pen and sighs, letting his head fall into his hands.
This wasn’t supposed to be such a mess.
A knock on the door has Shouta straightening up. It’s past curfew for students, and they shouldn’t be able to leave the dorms without the security system alerting him.
And yet, he knows who it is before he even opens the door.
Aoyama stands in the hallway, soaking wet and dripping rainwater onto the carpet. He’s shivering and he looks absolutely miserable.
Shouta could admonish him for being up so late and not bringing an umbrella.
Instead, he lets the kid in without a word, grabbing a towel from the closet and tossing it to him. He takes a seat in the living room, silently inviting Aoyama to do the same. His posture is relaxed but attentive.
Aoyama pulls the towel tight around his shoulders as he sits opposite from Shouta, sinking as far into the armchair as he possibly can.
There’s no attempt at a smile, not this time. No mask to hide behind.
“I don’t know how to start,” Aoyama says.
Shouta nods. Any topic big enough to make his usually prim student come to him in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, has to be major.
“Let me ask you a question, then,” Shouta says. “Are you in danger?”
Please, god, let the answer be no.
Aoyama bites his lip. He nods.
Fuck.
Shouta doesn’t let himself react outwardly. Some dipshit threatening one of his kids makes his blood boil. But if Aoyama saw that anger in his fragile state, he would think it was directed at him. That’s not acceptable.
“Your parents as well?”
Aoyama nods again. He has dark circles under his eyes, the kind that come from too many sleepless nights. From their depth, more than Shouta would’ve guessed. They’d only had this discussion on Friday.
Aoyama often wears makeup to class. He’s probably skilled enough to hide the evidence of anything wrong.
Why the hell had Shouta not noticed earlier? How could he let it get this far?
“Kid,” Shouta says, “I’m glad you came to me. UA has the resources to protect you and your parents-”
Aoyama shakes his head. He curls tighter into a ball, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Don’t- don’t say that. You don’t know what I’ve done, you’re not going to feel the same way when I tell you.”
He sounds so certain.
What I’ve done.
Not only is Aoyama being threatened, he’s being forced to commit villainous acts as well.
He wants to argue and reassure the kid, but he probably should let him say what he needs to say.
“Okay,” Shouta says, voice carefully measured. “Then tell me.”
Aoyama takes several deep, shuddering breaths.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” he starts. “This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I’m probably ruining my life and my parents’ by even being here right now, but… I can’t do it anymore . If something happened, if he came back somehow, I don’t think I could do it again. So everything would be ruined either way.”
If he came back.
Shouta’s mind tries desperately to piece together who “he” could be. The uncle, maybe?
He doesn’t interrupt to ask.
“My parents don’t know I’m doing this. They would never let me. Sensei- I’m so tired . I’ve been having nightmares since he was arrested, even though we’re supposed to be free. He doesn’t just come after me or Maman or Papa, he kills Mina, or Tooru, or Midoriya, or the rest of the class– even you, sometimes. If he found out I was telling a hero, he’d kill us. He even demonstrated his brutality on another who’d betrayed him, just so we knew he wasn’t making empty threats.”
Holy shit. No wonder the kid is such a mess.
“What did he want from you?” Shouta asks.
Aoyama locks eyes with him. He smiles, and it’s full of pain.
“Information. Aizawa-sensei, I’m so sorry– I’m a spy. I enrolled at UA as a spy for the League of Villains– for All for One. Everything that has happened this year is my fault.”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
Right after USJ, Nedzu proposed the traitor theory. Someone inside the school handing information to the League. Shouta had promised himself that he would keep an eye out. After All for One was arrested, though, he’d let himself relax. Nedzu cleared the teachers and Shouta had decided it couldn’t be any of his students. He’d grown attached, never noticing the traitor in the very front row.
He should arrest Aoyama. He should alert the Principal. He should do something .
All he can see is the terrified kid right in front of him. The one who nearly sacrificed his chance at a license for his classmates, the one who spun like a disco ball to make a little girl smile.
A good kid, in a shitty situation. A kid who trusts him.
Aoyama grips the edge of his towel with white knuckles, waiting for Shouta’s verdict. What he decides here will decide the rest of the kid’s life . Aoyama has put his fate in Shouta’s hands.
“Kid,” Shouta says, “I wish I could promise you that nothing will happen. I can’t guarantee that.”
Aoyama’s eyes widen, glistening with more tears.
“Sensei?”
“I’m not going to expel you. In fact, I’m going to fight like hell to keep you in UA.”
The entire year, when Shouta imagined the traitor, he pictured some conniving, gleeful villain, cackling at the heroes’ stupidity. Aoyama couldn’t be further from that. Shouta knows the grays of the world, where villains make villains of victims and the heroes don’t care to know the difference. He’s not going to let one of his kids get crushed taking the blame for that bastard .
“We’ll have to talk to Principal Nedzu. There’s no hiding this from him, and he’ll hopefully appreciate the fact that you came forward with this yourself.”
Aoyama just stares at him, taking it in. “You don’t- you don’t hate me? You almost died at USJ. Bakugou got kidnapped, and so many were injured at camp, and- and I’m a villain! ”
“You’re a kid,” Shouta says. “You were being threatened by All for One . A true villain wouldn’t feel guilt like you are. They wouldn’t have come forward. Aoyama, you’re not a villain. I don’t blame you for trying to keep your family safe.”
Shouta moves to Aoyama’s side, crouching next to the chair and putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“Like I said, I can’t guarantee this is going to be easy. But I’m not abandoning you. We’re going to fix this together.”
Aoyama sniffles and nods. He smiles, and this time it’s real.
You know what they say about a light at the end of the tunnel.
Sometimes it’s a train .