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Class 1-A has never been shy about delving into their teacher's personal life, but this is kind of a new low for them.
All Izuku does is bring in a lunch that he doesn’t normally eat. The classroom is filled with easy lunchtime chatter, the kind that means he can take a break from supervising his students and enjoy his meal. It’s a bento-box, neatly wrapped in blue and yellow cloth. Sitting at his desk, he carefully unwraps and opens it, pulling out a pair of chopsticks. He lifts out a piece of hot dog, sliced into the shape of an octopus.
Eri, seated nearby, quirks her head curiously. “Midoriya-sensei, did your mom make that for you?”
Their teacher shakes his head, laughing. “No, it wasn’t my mom.”
Eri eyes the box—the mound of rice, placed in a somewhat haphazard heart-shape. She leans over to Kota, whispering, and within 5 minutes the students of class 1-A, the country’s best and most promising young minds, have begun to murmur among themselves. A theory quickly takes shape, rolls over the classroom in a hushed whisper. Obviously, it’s the most plausible conclusion.
“Midoriya-sensei has a lover!”
--
The theory becomes a rumor, and then it’s the only thing anyone in 1-A can talk about for the rest of the week. Some students are more invested in it than others, but regardless, it completely derails their weekly study session.
Kota gestures wildly at the whiteboard, long abandoned for its studying purposes, where there’s a poorly drawn bento, a series of question marks, and the word WHY!!
“DEKU IS DEFINITELY DATING SOMEONE!”
Katsuma, the group’s soft-spoken voice of reason, is the first to interject. “I’m not sure it’s really our place to speculate about Midoriya-sensei’s personal life. Besides, how do you know he’s not packing it for himself?”
Tamashiro, the group’s voice of chaos, is the first to counter. “For himself?! Do you remember stuff he used to pack for himself? It was all health-food crap…protein bars and jars of oatmeal and stuff!”
Kota slams his hands down on the table. “And no. Hot dog. Octopuses.”
“He has been different lately,” Eri says from the end of the table. “He used to spend all his time at school,” she says, thoughtful and slow, “but now, he goes home right away.”
“Eri’s right!” Kota says. Her point is met with nods from the rest of the table. “Lately he’s seemed happier, more energetic.”
Eri nods sagely. “It’s probably a side effect of the increased nutrition.”
“Yes! Increased nutrition from the bento boxes that were made by his lover!” Kota declares triumphantly.
“Right,” Katsuma says gently, shuffling his biology notes. “Now that we’ve reached that conclusion, maybe we could–”
“But who could it be?” Says Eri, her eyes wide and curious. She’s usually reserved, but Kota’s got her excited, and as they move onto the next topic Katsuma is helpless to stop them.
“What about Mei Hatsume?” Says Tamashiro. “Remember that time she came in for career day? She was all over him!”
Kota shakes his head. “Umm…remember after that, Deku-sensei had to give us a lecture on the importance of work-life balance? Somehow I don’t see her being organized enough to pack a lunch for someone else.” Everyone nods; Kota crosses her name off the whiteboard.
“Uravity?” Eri suggests.
“She’s kinda out of his league.”
At this, the table erupts into a fierce debate. Katsuma sighs quietly, shaking his head. As far as evidence goes, the bento box is not overwhelming proof of a relationship, but it’s compelling enough that they spend the next 40 minutes essentially engaged in a shipping war over their teacher. Oh, well. Speculating about Midoriya’s love life is exciting, and none of them really wanted to study biology anyways.
–-
By next week watching their teacher eat his lunch has become something of a spectator sport. Today it’s egg rolls and they—oh, god dammit, they look like ducks, with little beaks made of sliced carrot and everything.
“This is too much. I can’t do this anymore,” Tamashiro says, from where he’s eating a sandwich at his desk.
As usual, the classroom is abuzz, but today, especially. There’s a new rumor that the Pro Hero Shouto is dating someone after a paparazzi photo was taken of him and another person. The picture only shows their backs, and the person is wearing a hoodie, and it’s pretty blurry, but not that blurry—they’re definitely holding hands. It’s a devastating blow to fangirls everywhere and the best thing for internet gossip since the beef between Dynamight and Lemillion a few years back, spawning numerous headlines like Is Shouto Single? And, Who is Pro-Hero Shouto’s Mystery Girlfriend, and, Everything You Need to Know About that One Photo Of… you get the point.
“Love is in the air~” Eri murmurs, and Tamashiro grumbles something about the unfairness of it all. They continue to munch on their own lunches, watching in interest as a few girls sidle up to their teacher’s desk. As usual he’s eating his bento, while watching some kind of hero analysis commentary video.
“Midoriya-sensei, you and Shouto are friends, right? Do you know who he’s dating?” He immediately chokes on his egg roll, coughing and sputtering in response.
“No, I—!” He scrambles to pause the video, red in the face. “No! I don’t. He and I don’t really, um, talk about that stuff.”
He awkwardly chuckles, and the girls exchange disappointed glances as they walk away. “Good man,” Tamashiro says gloomily. “They probably go on double dates.”
“Oh, to have a cute girlfriend who makes me bento every day…” Kota says, stretching back in his chair, and is met with a swift chop from Eri.
–-
At last, Izuku is able to eat his lunch in peace. After a week and a half of his students acting fully unhinged, things have cooled down—a combination of ignoring their obvious curiosity, and, ironically, the recent drama with Shouto, has dulled their interest in his personal life to a somewhat normal level. They’ve gotten back into their regular flow, the classroom settling into a productive rhythm. It feels good, Izuku thinks. He’s in the middle of teaching a chemistry lesson when there’s a knock at the window.
Um.
Another sharp, deliberate knock. Izuku turns his head to look outside the window and sees a face staring at him. It’s the face of Todoroki. Todoroki Shouto. His Todoroki Shouto. He barely has time to register this before he hears the sound of his students screaming.
“MIDORIYA SENSEI, THERE’S A GUY OUT THERE!”
And then he’s screaming himself, running to the window and shoving it up and open.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“Hey,” Todoroki says, leaning against the windowsill and looking casual as hell in his street clothes. Except—
“This is the fourth floor!” Izuku screams, nearly hysterical.
Similar reactions can be heard from his students, along with exclamations like “Why is Pro Hero Shouto here” and “What the fuck.” Everyone is craning their necks to get a better look—Todoroki appears to be standing on an ice bridge, jaggedly sloping upwards from the lawn below. His expression is calm and composed, apparently unfazed by the height. And, most notably, he’s holding a package tied in familiar blue and yellow cloth.
“You forgot this,” he says, casually handing the bento box to their teacher, who is stammering and very bright red.
“You—you could have just left it at the front desk!”
Todoroki pauses, considering this. “I guess so. But I wanted to see you.”
“This is your class?” He gives them a small wave, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he scans their faces. In various states of shock, everyone waves back. He turns back to Izuku.
“I’ll see you at home, ok?”
“Okay,” Izuku says weakly. “See you.”
The class instantly clamors to the windows to watch as Todoroki slides back down the ice bridge and hops into a double-parked Honda. And then drives away. What the fuck.
The classroom is in shambles. Izuku shuts the window and walks back to his desk, setting the bento box down, taking a deep breath. “Everyone, I know that was exciting, but let’s get back to our seats please!” To his relief everyone sits back down, and he picks up a whiteboard marker to focus back on the lesson. “Okay. Did anyone have any questions about the electron configurations of—”
He turns around to face his students, and twenty hands go up all at once.
Izuku puts the marker down, and sighs. He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this.