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Aizawa could hear his class before he was even down the hall.
He held back a groan, debating whether it would be considered totally unprofessional to just turn around and pretend like something had come up. His ability to scare them into submission had all but disappeared by their second year; if anything, his class now made it a competition to annoy the living hell out of him. Kaminari and Ashido were easily the worst offenders, followed closely by Shinso. Kaminari and Ashido were incessant; Shinso was a less frequent offender, but delighted in using his quirk to serve his purposes. Tokoyami performing what Aizawa had later learned was called the chicken dance had nearly shattered his entire ability to function—especially when Dark Shadow had popped out to coach his host .
Given today’s noise, he could only viscerally dread what he’d find.
Aizawa slid open the door, slightly relieved in how almost normal the classroom appeared. There were various groups huddled around the room, Ashido sitting dead center with a whiteboard in hand, seeming to conduct some kind of…gambling ring?
“Back in your assigned seats,” Aizawa barked, hair and scarf suspended in the air. Ashido merely grinned wickedly at him. “Can’t, Sensei. Angst Trio just broke the system,” she chirruped. Aizawa restrained a sigh, not even bothering to attempt deciphering whatever Ashido had just said. “Seats,” he repeated firmly, eyes scanning for the one student who had disappointed him least. Aside from Kota, that was.
Aizawa seriously debated leaving yet again as he found Yaoyorozu in the midst of a discussion with Jiro and Uraraka, not even glancing at the chaos surrounding her. Instead, he dragged himself to the lectern and loudly dropped his papers on its surface. None of his students reacted. “Hey, Sensei, we’re taking bets on who’s gonna be the next couple. Or throuple or whatever. Any bets?” Ashido’s eyes glinted as she poised a marker above her whiteboard.
“I don’t get involved in my students’ personal lives more than I have to,” Aizawa deadpanned.
“Okay, what about the teachers? What’s the tea, sis?” Ashido’s bright face was still trained on him.
Aizawa sighed loudly. “Pro heroes' personal lives are protected secrets, Ashido.” He scanned the classroom again. Not even Kota was paying attention, wrapped up in a conversation with Sato and Hagakure. He really should have just left. It would be infinitely easier than this.
“Okay, but, like, just hypothetically , who do you think would wind up with who? Like, Kendo totally thinks Vlad King and Midnight are a thing.”
“Midnight’s asexual,” Aizawa said distractedly, noticing as Bakugo’s palms lit up.
“But is she, like, aromantic ? Cuz they could still be a thing,” Ashido prodded.
“Ashido,” Aizawa said sharply, just as Kirishima seemed to soothe Bakugo. “They are not together. Their personal lives aren’t fodder for gossip.”
Shinso smirked lazily, just as he seemed to say something to Midoriya. Midoriya’s body slumped slightly, and Shinso spoke again; Midoriya turned slowly, middle finger raised.
“So, what about Present Mic and Hound Dog? Gen ed’s have a lot of proof.”
“Hizashi’s married,” slipped from Aizawa’s lips just as he watched Todoroki grab Midoriya’s offending hand.
Ashido’s squeal made Aizawa realize his mistake. “Mic’s married ?” she shrieked, drawing the attention of her classmates. Aizawa pointedly shuffled his worksheets.
“Everyone, back to your seats. Class starts in two minutes. Anyone not seated will be expelled.”
“Who’s he married to?” Ashido demanded.
Aizawa merely turned around to start jotting the day’s schedule on the board. He could hear Ashido’s palms slam on her desk. “ Sensei ,” she whined. “ Aizawa ,” she tried instead. “ Eraser ,” came long, shrill, and drawn-out. Aizawa sighed loudly, completing a character with a flourish. “C’ mon . Mic’s, like, primo bachelor according to the news and he’s totally been seen holding Hound Dog’s hand,” Mina insisted.
“Tabloids aren’t news, Ashido,” Aizawa said, exhaustion in every syllable. Ashido whined wordlessly behind him. With another large sigh, he turned to face her. “If you get your classmates to sit in their seats and behave the entire class period, I will tell you.”
He had been held hostage at gunpoint, tortured, and otherwise detained by villains wanting answers, yet Mina Ashido had managed to break him in less than five minutes. Sometimes, he truly hated his class.
Mina’s hands slapped her desk again as she whooped. “Oi! Shut up and sit down! I will melt whatever you love most if you aren’t quiet—and yes, that includes Shinso and Jiro, Kaminari,” she shouted as she spun to face her classmates. With a little grumbling, the classroom fell back into order. “Mama’s got some hot goss comin’ her way, so keep those mouths shut and those butts in your seat. Love ya!” Mina twirled back around, primly taking a seat and respectfully folding her hands on her desk.
Aizawa pushed back the urge to pinch his nose, and instead decided to just capitalize on the silence to actually start the lesson. “Thank…you, Miss Ashido,” he managed out, and she just beamed at him. “Mid-term exams are coming up. As third years, the focus will be on practical applications of hero theory and strategizing for theoretical dilemmas.” Aizawa turned back to the board, jotting down the expected curriculum.
For the first time in far too long, his demon class was perfectly behaved. Even as he went over the various versions of the trolley problem they might face, Iida didn’t argue with him. Bakugo barely glowered. Even Kirishima stayed mostly calm—only uttering “that’s so not manly” under his breath for a few of the harsher scenarios.
Terrifyingly, Midoriya was utterly silent. He was scrawling notes more than ever and only paused to chew on his pencil. Aizawa found himself preemptively pausing when it came to how All Might’s legacy reshaped what defined a hero, but Midoriya said absolutely nothing.
It was the first time in three years that Aizawa had experienced this. Mina Ashido’s power was absolutely frightening.
Her ink-black eyes twinkled at him as the bell rang.
Okay, Shota. You’ve got this.
Carefully, he tugged at the chain hidden under his jumpsuit; the ring weighed it down, glimmered in the fluorescent light. “Ashido, I believe I promised you something.”
Later, he would deny taking pleasure in the way she shrieked. In the moment, though, he reveled in it.