Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya wasn’t the first. None of this year’s students were. He’s taught two classes before. His last class had mostly been expelled - redistributed to the other courses - but he still kept tabs on Amajiki. His first class each called or texted him once a month, for no other reason than to let him know they were still alive.
‘Alright, who’s not dead? Sound off.’ was a common meme they posted to the group chat. He knew as time went on they would forget about him; as they graduated college, got married, rose in the ranks, and even had kids of their own.
Izuku Midoryia wasn’t the first, but he was the fastest. He was a trouble magnet with a tragic backstory, and as soon as Shota learned that he wasn’t a spoiled brat with an overpowered quirk he hadn’t bothered to master over the three years of training they were obligated to give to middle school students, he felt the connection form.
It was a subtle and hidden aspect of his quirk. In the same way that his gaze could cancel the effects of someone's quirk factor, his affection could intensify it. Those wide, adoring eyes and that bright, genuine smile wormed their way into his heart like a parasite. The bond formed and Shota wished it hadn’t. More power and more energy were not what the kid needed.
Which was why he was now dragging his student back to the dorm - his hoard - with a sheepish All Might trailing behind him, an irritating litany of apologies and excuses breaking the peace and stillness of the night.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled. He needed to get his hoardling home. “They’re not allowed out at night. Especially not my Problem Child.”
“I was just trying to -”
“I don’t care.” He stopped at the edge of the front lawn of the A-1 dorm building to check his student over for injuries. His quirk told him that the boy was just short of suffering from quirk exhaustion. “He needs eight hours of sleep.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“Of course, it’s not,” he snapped. “It’s yours.” He suppresses the urge to tell him to get - and stay - away from his hoard. His own quirk factor flowed through his capture scarf, causing it to writhe and wriggle menacingly.
“Oh,” All Might said, his expression dropping to one of hurt and confusion. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“Well, it wasn’t helpful. He needs rest and a good breakfast,” Shota scoffed. “Next time, check with me first.”
“Okay.”
Shota dragged his student into the dorm. He let him loose from the capture weapon and took a deep breath. His mood improved immediately, and his expression softened. “Wash up and get to bed, Problem Child.”
“You’re not mad at me?” the child asked incredulously.
“Not if you get to sleep at a reasonable time tonight,” he reassured him.
Izuku beamed up at him.
He smiled back and ruffled his hair. “Goodnight, kiddo.”
“Goodnight, Dad - I mean Aizawa-sensei. Aizawa-sensei!” he babbled and turned beet red. Izuku scurried up the stairs.
Shota grabbed a sleeping bag from the hall closet and curled up on the couch. His hoard was safe, and in the morning, he’d make them pancakes.