Archive of Our Own ^beta

Aizawa said he'd been hit by a quirk on patrol. He hadn't explained how or what kind, but the rest of the staff figured it out quickly.

How's it goin'? Come on down~

The Marukane Department Store jingle had been playing on and off all morning, drifting in and out of the room as Aizawa came and went, occasionally interrupted by an authoritative, feminine voice that wasn't too unlike Aizawa's own, ordering out:

"Full Stop."

Hope you're doin' well! Come on down~

"Full Stop."

Hope all y'all can make it~!

"Full! Stop!" she just about shrieked, making All Might flinch and tense from the other side of the table like he'd just heard a villain.

Yamada leaned over, a casual smile on his face, "When I have a song stuck in my head, I just give in and play it. That usually puts me back on track!"

Aizawa gave a suffering sigh, but didn't respond further.

At least, not verbally.

"I could try that... Auntie would've been able to fix this..." Aizawa's voice lamented, not coming from his mouth but simply permeating the air between them, focused somewhere under the scarf around the back of the hero's neck.

Yamada raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Aizawa startled, just barely, before seeming to remember that Yamada wasn't reading his mind—it was being broadcast.

He hummed, "Quirk."

"Oh? Was her Quirk like yours? Like... could she erase thoughts?" Yamada poised his hands above his forehead, pointed all of his fingers inward, and then pulled them back suddenly; ripping away thoughts. He hoped Aizawa got it. "A TRUE Eraser Head?!"

"Something like that," Aizawa mumbled as he hid his smile behind his scarf. "Pulling thoughts out of his head..."

He did get it!

"What's my Quirk called? 'Full Stop'!" the woman from his thoughts—seemingly Auntie—said proudly. "But I like to call it my 'Pause Button'. When you pause the television, the characters can't move, talk, or think until you press the button again. That's why I'm always careful to make sure they're sitting down when I pause." Her voice suddenly sounded closer and her tone turned teasing, "You're lucky we can only use quirks in the house, Shō."

Aizawa's voice came floatily after the... memory?, soaked in fondness, "Most terrifying babysitter I ever had."

Yamada could feel his brows furrow and his smile widen into something fake. He kept his tone casual and chose his words carefully, "That seems a bit mean to do to a little kid."

Aizawa looked away from his computer screen to stare blankly at Yamada, a vague feeling of confusion entering the air, before he huffed out a laugh.

"She used it to keep me from eating sweets before dinner," he mused, ducking back down into his scarf. Yamada could see the corner of Aizawa's smile peeking out; its sentiment reflected in his eyes. Reminiscent, fond, longing.

"Full Stop!" There was a pause before the woman heaved in a breath. She composed herself quickly and continued, "Thinking you'll grab a little licorice before dinner, aren't you? My homemade food isn't good enough?"—the memory of Aizawa's aunt sounded almost exactly like he did when scolding his students—"A growing man should know better than to spoil his dinner. I expect a written apology by the end of the night!"

"The terrifying thing was that she always seemed to know what I was up to." Aizawa's thoughts paused for a moment and Yamada could see the gears turning in his head. "I never wrote that apology. She only made me write... five? Five of them over the years. She just said she would the other times, and I believed her. How irrational."

"From what I'm hearin', it seems like you two are a lot alike," Yamada hummed breezily. He'd never learned much about Aizawa's family, and he regretted it pretty bad. Would they still have fallen apart if Yamada was more of a fixture in his life?

"You've never met her, and I haven't told you anything." Aizawa pushed his keyboard to the side, put his crossed arms in its place, and laid his head down on his desk. He gave Yamada a look from beneath his hair and mumbled out, seemingly impassive as ever, "Hm. Don't respond to my thoughts."

"Oh, uh, sorry," Yamada rubbed the back of his neck and returned to his own space.

There wasn't a chance for silence as Aizawa's thoughts mumbled in a quiet buzz that Yamada couldn't make out. It was kind of irritating, but Yamada forgave it immediately, because it wasn't like Aizawa was doing it on purpose. He was sure he could forgive his friend for almost anything.

"Shōta... People like you and me, with Quirks like ours... Just, tell me you'll learn how to defend yourself. If I'm not around, then... I don't know if anyone else will be willing to do it for you."

Yamada heard that loud and clear. The words set an angry, self-eating kind of shame to boil in his gut. He'd fucked this, hadn't he? Judged his friend's family off of memories he wasn't supposed to be privy to, had run his mouth and dredged up something ugly that he could barely understand. Assuming based on a description of a Quirk wasn't very heroic of him, was it? He kept a smile on his face even as his heel started bouncing.

The buzzing murmurs continued for only a moment before stopping abruptly.

"Something's wrong."

Aizawa shifted so that he could look out from his arms at Yamada. Yamada pretended to ignore him.

"Don't ignore me. That's rude. What have I ever done to deserve such cruel treatment from you, Yamada? This is just like the Sports Festival..."

Yamada blinked at the uncharacteristic statement and stopped pretending to ignore him. Aizawa gave a wide grin.

"Testing, testing. One, two, three. Mic check. Hm... What's the line... Ground control t- Right, right." The thought-voice turned sing-song, "Ground Control to Major Mic!"

Yamada's anger broke cleanly over the image of his best friend having fun again. His smile softened into something real. Maybe he could be forgiven too.

"This is a bad idea." Aizawa's thoughts hummed thoughtfully. "I shouldn't get comfortable with this."

"Sounds like a great idea to me," Yamada leaned against his desk and put his jaw in his hand, curled fingers against his cheek.

Aizawa blinked at Yamada talking, only the littlest bit startled because he was as used to Yamada's voice as he was to his own.

"It's quiet for me," is what he chose to say.

Yamada nodded, thoughtful. "It is an internal monologue, yo."

"'Yo'," Aizawa's mind echoed. "Does he say that when he's home alone? On that note, does he rhyme at home? City kitty..."

Yamada snorted. "Not as intentionally."

Aizawa looked confused for only a moment before he caught up. How odd it must be, to try and connect a silent thought train to a spoken word... Yamada tilted his head further into his palm and let his grin grow crooked and casual and old. For just this moment, it was like nothing had ever changed.

"When did I say 'City Kitty'?" he laughed, "What does that go with?"

"During the First Term Finals," Aizawa hummed.

Yamada's own voice chimed from somewhere that was not himself, "Some people have arbor ardor but I’m much more of a city kitty, ya dig?"

Yamada laughed again; longer, louder. He was used to hearing his own voice played back to him—as a recording or as echoes off of walls—but through someone else's memory was new!

"Weren't you giving a test at the same time? How do you know what I said?"

"I could hear you from the city," Aizawa smirked.

"Sure you could."

"Heard you lose it over a couple bugs."

"That was more than a couple bugs," Yamada huffed.

"You're right. It was more like a few."

Aizawa was eating lunch on the roof.

This was surprisingly not because of today's unsurprisingly colorful Hero Lessons class—that Yamada had begged All Might to take at least one video of—which had included such gems as "Midoriya just completely ate shit, but he'll come back from that", "Bakugo continues to not know the meaning of 'Team Exercise'", "Tokoyami is hard carrying, sad to see", "Shoji remains the best support I've ever seen", and "Minus points from Mineta on the next assignment for upsetting me". The class had apparently been in outrage until Aizawa silenced them, and then quietly discontent until he helped All Might give a fair assessment of each team.

All Might had thought it best to get a follow-up video (from the angle of inside his pocket) for Tokoyami's team, to "show how hard the students had actually worked". The weird old man was a little cute in how passionate he was about the kids. Still a bad teacher, though.

"Uhm, Sensei?" came Hagakure from the video, "You said that Tokoyami carried our team... How can I contribute more in the future?"

After a moment, a confused Aizawa replied, "I didn't say that. You worked hard, Hagakure. Everyone on your team earned your score together."

(Yamada could imagine his hand in her hair—or rather, the space where her hair would be.)

Midoriya cleared his throat, "You, uhm, thought it, Sensei."

(Yamada could just about hear Aizawa staring at him in bewilderment.)

"Seriously?" Aizawa's mind uttered, dumbfounded. A chorus of giggles erupted from a few familiar sources (Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, a few other students, mostly Mina).

"I don't think we can judge Sensei's thoughts," Tsuyu croaked, voice of reason as always. "Thought crimes aren't real, kero."

No, the reason Aizawa was on the roof was because of the other thing involving All Might today.

The elderly hero had decided to take a page out of Yamada's poorly written, poorly thought-out book, and attempted to learn more about Aizawa using cues from his thoughts. He'd sat directly across from Aizawa during their shared lunch and didn't say a word beyond a cheerful hello, despite looking for all the world like he wanted to have a conversation.

"All Might," Aizawa's mind pinged. "Why's All Might here? Does he want to talk to me? I hope he doesn't want to talk to me. Don't talk to me."

All Might's smile flinched and his shoulders slumped.

"I shouldn't be so harsh on him, he's not a bad guy," Aizawa chided himself lightly. All Might perked up, a smile coming across his thin lips. "...he's just awkward, reckless, a bad teacher, and plays favorites."

All Might's face fell as soon as it rose. Aizawa seemed to be lost in thought, not really paying attention to the man sitting across from him. It was funny, confirming once and for all that his intense stare didn't actually mean he was paying any attention.

"I mean... I have my favorites too," Aizawa mused, "It's natural. It's just that he's so obvious about it. ...Didn't stop him from damn near killing those kids though. That's an image I want out of my head..."

All Might visibly deflated as he opened his very adorable bento. Aizawa took an unbothered bite of his rice.

"Still. Good test. Those two learned how to work together, Bakugo especially... I'm glad he didn't go too easy on them just because he likes them."

Yamada stifled a laugh as the old pro looked back up at Aizawa with big, hopeful eyes. Like a sad old dog begging for scraps.

"...Why the hell is he staring at me? I thought he wanted to talk but he just sat down to eat-"

Aizawa's face soured.

"Don't probe my thoughts for compliments. It's weird."

"Ah! Uhm- My apologies, Aizawa! I, uhm... had a question, but you seemed to need time to think first."

Aizawa glared. All Might cleared his throat. Yamada coughed into his fist so nobody could hear his chuckle.

"I wanted to know... What made you want to become a hero in the first place?"

Aizawa had blinked. And then the air in the break room broke into chaos.

The voice of a little boy rang out, clipped and foggy as if Aizawa's memory was fading, "Who's that, Auntie?"

"That's a Hero, sweetheart. They keep people like us safe from big, bad villains!"

Shirakumo laughed and Yamada heard his own voice join.

"Trying to be a hero with a quirk like yours?" a man whose voice was like Aizawa's but harsher and deeper spoke. "You're going to die out there, Shōta."

A teenaged Aizawa responded, but his words got lost as the argument began to derail, coherency and chronologicity lost to the throes of memory. Yamada couldn't catch a word as Aizawa and the man's voices overlapped and crescendoed until they were yelling at each other.

Finally, teen Aizawa broke through, "I'm going to go live with Auntie! And I will become a hero, despite my quirk!"

"Don't come crawling back here when you embarrass yourself," the man sneered. "Worthless boy."

"He's going to get himself killed," a woman whimpered. "He's going to die out there. He's powerless."

Shirakumo laughed again. He laughed and laughed and there was the sound of rubble crashing down.

"The three of us should start our own agency," Shirakumo had said, as concrete slammed into concrete. "You could do just about anything if you put your mind to it."

Then the break room went silent.

Yamada had held his breath. He knew when a storm was only halfway over.

All Might had stared at Aizawa in a daze, shock gagging him. His chopsticks slid from his hand and clattered onto the table. The sound seemingly broke Aizawa's own silent shock as he stood up from the table and leveled All Might with a nasty glare. An almost electric buzz began to brew in the room, unlike any thought they'd heard from Aizawa that day but undeniably coming from him.

"Aizawa, I truly didn't mean-" the elderly hero tried.

The electricity burst into words.

Nosy little- Mind your own business- Invasive- Stupid old man- Of all the- No manners-

Aizawa stormed out of the room and the hissing words followed him. The break room went silent again.

When the door closed, Yamada had whipped his head around to look at All Might.

"Yo?"

"I was trying to do what you did," All Might said miserably. "I wanted to get to know him..."

Yamada had understood that brain-buzzing after that; a simmering rage and confusion that sat right at the front of his mind. He'd given All Might an easygoing smile, grabbed his lunch and re-wrapped Aizawa's, and headed on his way to follow Aizawa.

"I'll handle everything, Mighty Man! Don't sweat it!"

"Thank you, Yamada," All Might said so guiltily that Yamada had hated himself for being angry.

Unfortunately, Yamada was still very angry.

Yamada had followed Aizawa out the door and tailed the glimpse of him he saw turning the corner. It hadn't been hard to follow Aizawa even if he lost sight of him—the rising shouting of the other man's mind gave away where he was. At some point, Aizawa's thoughts lost words and instead a low hum of anger followed him. The sound reminded Yamada of the old AC unit in his first apartment.

Aizawa had seemed to be walking without any direction. He'd stomped his way through a half dozen hallways before reaching the staircase and charging up the stairs. Yamada hadn't seen Aizawa this angry since... ever. He considered turning back and leaving Aizawa to stew, but then he'd heard the door to the roof open. He ran up the last flight to catch up.

When he'd opened the door, Aizawa was just standing there looking out on the roof. His thoughts had been silent.

"Hey!" Yamada called, "I finally caught up to you!"

Aizawa turned around. "Yamada."

"Mic," he'd mumbled. "Why'd you follow me?"

Why had he followed Aizawa? He'd been too pissed to stay in the break room, but he didn't need to follow Aizawa. He'd done it because...

"You left your lunch!" Yamada held up Aizawa's lunch and his own.

Aizawa's frown deepened. "I'm not hungry-"

"We can eat together up here."

So that's how they got to where they were now, sitting on the roof. Yamada was sitting cross-legged, Aizawa had his elbows on his knees, and there was a space between them that gnawed on Yamada's nerves. Yamada tried to stifle the feeling by taking a bite of his sandwich.

Aizawa's thoughts buzzed softly, too soft to hear but unignorable. Yamada decided to stop pretending to ignore it.

"Sooo..." Yamada tilted his head towards Aizawa, "What'cha thinkin' about?"

A thousand jumbled answers spat themselves out into the air between them.

Aizawa scratched his cheek. "Why are you even asking? You can just hear them."

Yamada's brow furrowed. "That doesn't mean they always make sense. Like that? That was the worst noise I've ever heard, dude."

"'Dude'," Aizawa's mind mocked. "And why's he telling me off about awful noise?"

"Hey!" Yamada lightly punched Aizawa's arm. "But, for serious, what's buggin' ya?"

"You know what's bothering me, you just want me to say it out loud. I hate when you do that. So meddlesome..."

Yamada made the expert decision of not answering. He just kept looking at Aizawa with a raised eyebrow.

"It's..." "Everyone's always in my business."

"Yeah?"

"Well..." "Why does this kind of thing always happen to me?"

Yamada set down his sandwich and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I guess..." "I haven't talked to my father in a decade... Why did that argument even come up...?"

Yamada popped his mouth and looked away from Aizawa for a moment. He looked back and asked, "May I?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Yamada laughed. "Only a little bit."

"Go ahead," Aizawa huffed. "It can't be any worse than the break room."

"I'm sorry I never asked about your family," Yamada said before taking another bite of his sandwich.

Aizawa's brow furrowed. "I wouldn't have wanted you to."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't do it! You know about my folks!"

"Because you talked my ear off about them, not because I asked."

"That's not fair."

"I didn't say anything," Aizawa said, his tone leaning towards exasperation and misery. "You responding before I can finish thinking is what isn't fair."

Yamada huffed. Aizawa sighed in response.

"I wouldn't have told you much even if you did," Aizawa said. "I was... a shy kid."

Yamada nodded. "I still should've asked."

"You might've," Aizawa hummed.

"Will you tell me now?" Yamada leaned forward again so he could get a good look at Aizawa's face. "Please?"

Aizawa looked away with a deep frown. He lifted a hand to scratch his cheek and left his finger there. "That's a bad idea..."

"I could," he said.

"You don't have to," Yamada reassured.

"I know," Aizawa huffed. "I just... could."

Yamada took a chance and asked, "Did you live with your aunt while we were in high school?"

Aizawa nodded. "She let met go to UA. If I'd stayed with my parents, I wouldn't have been allowed to attend."

"Huh." Yamada took a bite of his sandwich. "Because of your quirk?"

Aizawa nodded again, more solemn.

"He's powerless," the woman from before said again, her voice still full of terror. Suddenly, she took a turn towards exasperation, "Shōta, please! Please, just stop. You terrify me when you say things like that. You can't be a hero—you're practically quirkless. You're just an ordinary person, baby. There's nothing wrong with that. What could you do against a villain?"

"Who was that woman? Who said you were powerless?" Yamada felt his eye twitch. "Is that where you got that from? I hated when you said that in high school."

Aizawa glanced at Yamada. His mind repeated the same two words over and over again, as if he wanted to say his answer but couldn't bring himself to: "My mother, my mother, my-"

"FULL STOP!" Auntie shrieked.

Aizawa's mind quieted.

"It worked this time," Yamada said softly.

"I know."

Suddenly, the doors to the roof burst open.

"Aizawa? Yamada?" Kayama ran out onto the roof and called out for them. "You guys out here!?"

"Over here!" Yamada waved at her.

"Kayama. What's she doing out here?"

Kayama turned on her heel and sighed when she spotted them. "I heard something happened in the break room with All Might, and you both disappeared."

"Ah. She's meddling in my business, that's wh-" "Full stop."

"A tad slow on that one, Aizawa," Kayama laughed.

"I can't stop thoughts before I have them," Aizawa pouted. "How unfair... All of this is unfair."

Kayama frowned before she sauntered closer. "What's got you so down?"

"I'm not telling you, Kayama," Aizawa thought defiantly. "Stop trying to pick my brain."

She put her hands on her hips and leaned down to look him in the eye. Aizawa stared back, seemingly disinterested.

"I don't think you can win a staring contest against Eraser, Midnight," Yamada laughed.

"I can try," she huffed.

"She has food between her teeth," Aizawa's thoughts commented.

Kayama reeled back and slapped a hand over her mouth, her face turning tomato red. Yamada couldn't help the laugh that erupted from him, and Aizawa smirked.

"Where!? Do either of you have a toothpick!?"

"You don't actually," Aizawa huffed in his half-laugh sort of way, "I just wanted you out of my face."

"What the hell, Aizawa!?" Kayama stomped her foot. "Don't be awful!"

Aizawa's smirk turned into more of a smile. "It's what I'm good at."

Kayama sighed, exaggerated and put on, and then sat down in the space between them. She stretched her legs out in front of herself and crossed them, content to abandon propriety in front of old friends. Yamada found his smile refusing to die because of the familiarity.

"Okay, what's really going on?"

"We're eating lunch," Aizawa said.

"Then, why is your lunch still wrapped?"

"Because All Might can't mi-" "Full stop!" "I'm not hungry."

"So only Yamada's eating lunch?"

Aizawa nodded.

"That doesn't really make sense to me," Kayama tapped her chin, "I think you're lying."

"No one's stopping you from thinking that."

Yamada laughed, "I'm grilling him about his family."

Aizawa shot Yamada one of the nastiest looks he's ever gotten from his friend. Some mix of disgust and terror and- "Of course you would, you motherfucker."

Yamada laughed louder.

Kayama leaned over towards Aizawa. "Is that so?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"I'm curious, Aizawa," Kayama purred. "We all already learned about your 'Auntie' in the workroom!"

"Don't remind me."

"What's she like? Your aunt?"

Aizawa didn't respond, but a TV static-like sound entered the space around them. He seemed to be purposefully trying to not think, keeping his eyes trained on the concrete in front of his feet and his lips pursed.

"Yo, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm like that," Yamada warned with a loose finger pointed towards Aizawa. "That can't be good for your brain."

"I agree." Kayama shoved Aizawa's shoulder lightly.

The static stopped and Aizawa rolled his eyes. "It wasn't working anyway."

"Y'know, Eraser," Yamada mused, "you think a lot for such a quiet guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aizawa said with a frown.

"Nothing, I'm just saying."

——

Aizawa's mind was much quieter the next morning. He mostly emitted a light white noise, which was easy to ignore and almost soothing. Yagi wondered if the man had found a way to mitigate the quirk he was afflicted with or if he was making a conscious effort to think less words. Yagi himself would never be able to do something like that. Aizawa had incredible resolve, even in the little ways.

Currently, Aizawa was doing morning homeroom with 1-A. Yagi hoped it was going well.

Yamada tapped Yagi on the shoulder to get his attention. "Hey, All Might?"

Yagi looked to the man with a smile. "Yes, Yamada?"

"I'm about to take over 1-A. Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course!" Yagi turned in his chair to look at Yamada full. "What do you need?"

"Please don't try to apologize for yesterday when I'm not here," Yamada said with furrowed brows and a sheepish smile. "I feel like Aizawa might need some support."

Oh. Yagi couldn't help the way his mood plummeted at the reminder of the previous day. He'd messed up terribly with how he'd treated Aizawa. It was unforgivable.

"I-"

Yamada couldn't stick around to hear what Yagi had to say. He spied the time on Yagi's computer and jumped to attention.

"Oh, I gotta go, yo!" He shot Yagi finger guns, then waved at him as he rushed out the door. "Bye, Mighty Man!"

"Goodbye, Yamada!" Yagi called to the man.

He turned back to his work and nodded to himself. Yamada had known Aizawa longer than he had, and knew when the man needed support best. He would try his best to not apologize until lunch.

...but was that really doing right by Aizawa?

As he got older, Yagi had begun to wonder if there was something wrong with him. A well of insecurity had been dug somewhere inside his being. The duty to be better and do better had left him paralyzed when he reached a point when he couldn't any longer, and it paralyzed him in unfortunately mundane ways. During small talk, he felt like inexperienced speaker shuffling through index cards. The slightest embarrassment sat on his mind for half an hour after. Regret upon regret stacked upon his now skinnier shoulders until they collected with each breath of air.

A massive blunder such as yesterday's weighed on him like an anchor. It stood as a monument to his blunt, inelegant demeanor which had begun to fail him more and more in social situations. He was no longer a young man with a bright smile, but a withered replica of such a thing; his bumbling could be charming no longer.

So, staring at the tired face of Aizawa across the table was making Yagi squirm. He felt the need to apologize for what he had done, because that was all he could do. Aizawa focused on his computer screen and emitted that white noise, unaware that Yagi was in turmoil.

"You think in speeches, don't you?" came Aizawa's drawl.

Yagi jolted at the sound of his voice. Aizawa always knew more than Yagi thought he could. Such a smart man.

"Speeches?" Yagi frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When you asked me that question." Aizawa looked up at him. "You were expecting some kind of long train of thought, weren't you?"

"...I have to admit that I was."

"It makes sense, given how you talk."

Yagi felt himself flush. "How I talk?"

Aizawa tipped his head down slightly in a nod. "He can be long-winded, for sure... Emotional too."

Yagi rubbed the back of his neck and laughed uncomfortably.

Aizawa propped his cheek on his fist and let out a hum. "My thoughts are"—"quicker"—"...shorter than that, as you've likely gathered by now."

"Yes," Yagi nodded, "I've noticed. For me, my internal monologue is separate from my fighting instinct."

"Is that why you rush in without a plan?" "I see..."

Yagi laughed so hard it hurt what was left of his guts.

"You're not the first person to think that, Aizawa! It's true, I don't have an analytical mind like yours. I prefer to think with heart and my fists!"

Aizawa shook his head and sighed heavily. "That much is obvious."

Yagi's heart was lightened by Aizawa reaching out first. Perhaps he would get through the hours until lunch after all.

"I've never given much thought to how I think before I was hit by this quirk..." There was the sound of a scuffle and then a man's hushed apologies; likely the incident in question. "Thoughts just happen... I don't even know what all everyone else is hearing..."

"Would you like to know?" Yagi asked before he could think better of it. He cringed and quickly stammered out, "M-my apologies! I didn't mean to-"

"Sure," Aizawa said with a shrug. "It might be helpful."

Yagi's flush returned. He'd dug his own grave now, so he ought to commit! He put a finger to his chin as he thought about how best to describe Aizawa's thoughts... to Aizawa. What an odd situation this was. He couldn't help but smile at it.

"It's sort of a running commentary," Yagi began slowly, "of your opinions and things you observe. Mixed in are the voices of people and sounds from your past. If I may... your thoughts are much harsher than what you choose to say out loud."

Aizawa nodded, spurring Yagi to continue, "You think a person's name when you notice them. It's quite charming!"

Aizawa ducked behind his capture scarf slightly. Yagi also found that charming.

"You have great recollection of people's voices, Aizawa. Occasionally, I forget the face or voice of someone important to me... It's a great loss."

Aizawa considered him. He lifted his head and opened his mouth to say something, but Yagi still had more to say. Aizawa seemed to realize this. He closed his mouth and ducked behind his scarf again.

"Not everything comes across clearly!" Yagi laughed. "The other day at lunch, your mind sounded like a cicada!"

Aizawa sat up and tilted his head to the side slightly. "It did?"

Yagi nodded and laughed again. "Yes! I thought something was wrong with the light bulbs until I realized it was you."

"...Hm." "Weird..."

"If I could be allowed to speculate..." Yagi waited for Aizawa to nod minutely before continuing, "I think it was the quirk you were hit by translating your anger. You weren't thinking anything directly, but"—he rubbed the back of his neck—"I did stir up quite a bit of ire."

Aizawa nodded lightly. "That makes sense. Have you heard anything else like that?"

Yagi shook his head. "No, I haven't. I think you should ask Yamada about that sort of thing."

"I will. Thanks."

Perhaps not unforgivable. Perhaps, just a mistake.

——

"Poor stance."

Shinso tried to fix his stance.

Aizawa Sensei walked over from where he was leaning against a tree. He pushed Shinso down by the shoulders and said, "You need to crouch more, so you can push off the ground and follow the momentum of the weapon."

Shinso nodded. Sensei stepped back.

"Go."

Shinso threw the weapon out and watched as it wrapped around the thickest branch of a nearby tree. Good. Apprehension filled Shinso's stomach for a moment, but he pushed past it. Pull on the fabric until it's taut, push off with your feet, hold the weapon tight as it coils in on itself-

Shinso's chin crashed into the grass below. Ow.

"Weak grip." "You need to grip the weapon tighter and maintain your hold, or it'll go slack. Try again."

Shinso pushed himself to his feet and nodded. He can do this. He just needs to get over to the tree.

He crouched down and waited a moment before he threw the weapon out. It wrapped around the branch. He pulled until the weapon was taut, pushed off, made sure his grip wasn't weak-

His chin met the grass again. Ouch.

"Loose hold." "Make sure the weapon is properly secured before you push off. Again."

Shinso found his way to his feet again. He went to throw the weapon-

"Poor stance."

He fixed his stance.

Shinso flung the weapon out. It wrapped around the tree branch and he tugged to see if it was secure. Once confirmed, he yanked until it was taut, pushed off, and white-knuckled it as it coiled in on itself.

His feet left the ground. He barked out a thoughtless laugh of triumph before remembering to focus, kept his eyes on the perch-

Shinso slammed into the trunk of the tree. Then into the ground.

Fucking OUCH.

"Didn’t pull the second time. He’s getting frustrated."

He wasn’t frustrated, he’d just forgotten. Like an idiot.

Pull on the fabric until it's taut, push off with your feet, hold the weapon tight as it coils in on itself, and, once you're close, tug the fabric again to redirect yourself towards the landing point. It's a simple set of instructions. How was he supposed to catch up if he couldn't remember how his weapon even worked?

"That's as far as we're going to get with the capture weapon today."

Wait. No. Let him try again.

"Shinso."

"Sensei?"

"Rest for a minute and then get ready to spar."

Shinso untangled himself from the weapon and got to his feet. "I'm ready now."

Aizawa Sensei raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so… but I shouldn't stunt him." "Alright."

Shinso wrapped up his weapon quickly and jogged back over to Aizawa Sensei. He traded out the weapon for the other equipment they brought with them, strapped on his shin guards and gloves, and noted bitterly that his Sensei never needed anything like this.

Sparring with Aizawa Sensei wasn't about winning; it was learning why he lost. They'd gone over strikes, kicks, and grapples a thousand times by now, so it was time to test his mettle against an opponent. One who wasn't afraid to drive him into the ground, like other students might've been.

Though... due to Sensei's current affliction, he might have a leg up in the "battle".

"Misstep. Opening. Kick. Poor defense."

Shinso did not have a leg up.

"Poor stance. Opening. Kick."

It turns out, it doesn't matter if you know what your opponent is going to do if you can't move fast enough to counter them. You just know you're going to get kicked in the side before you get kicked in the side.

"Too forceful. Opening. He’s getting sloppy."

Shinso grit his teeth. Aizawa noticed, but Shinso wasn’t sure how he knew the man did.

"Misstep. Opening."

What even was a 'misstep' in this context? How does he correct something so vague-

"Takedown."

Aizawa Sensei swept one of Shinso's feet out from under him and Shinso's chin met the grass for the fifth time this hour. His arm was extended behind him and twisted painfully, with his hand bent uncomfortably at the wrist. He tapped out.

Aizawa relaxed his grip but didn't let Shinso go just yet. It was time to learn.

"Kote mawashi. The pronating wristlock," Sensei drawled. Shinso could hear the muted note of interest in his voice that he always got when talking about martial arts. "A useful submission hold when apprehending villains, but it can tear ligaments or fracture bone if you're not careful. It's also easy to defend against unless you can secure their other arm. Never use a wristlock against an opponent with more than two arms."

Easy to defend against, Shinso's ass.

"I'd rather not get put in a wristlock today, but I did this to myself," Sensei's mind sighed. He let Shinso go and stood. "I'll show you how to perform them consistently, and then we'll get back to sparring."

Shinso pushed himself to stand and nodded curtly. Sensei frowned at him and his mind mumbled something too quiet to make out.

Shinso straightened his spine and clenched his fists. “I’m ready.”

Sensei was glowering at him with crossed arms, running through something in his mind that didn't require words. A bead of cold sweat stung its way down Shinso's neck as his teacher scrutinized him the same way he always did, but suddenly so much scarier knowing how much he'd truly messed up. He could hear his own panting and grunts of exertion replayed to him quietly.

And then, Aizawa nodded. "Good work today, Shinso."

The pit in his stomach grew spikes, sticking into his sides from the inside. Liar. Misstep, too forceful, opening, poor stance, weak grip, sloppy.

"You don't believe that," Shinso said to the ground.

The air grew confused.

"What?"

"I've been messing up this whole time." Shinso clenched his fists. "It's all you noticed. I could hear it."

Aizawa didn't respond.

"Why are you lying to me? You said you're not the type to waste time on hopeless causes, but I can't even remember how the weapon works!" Shinso felt his eyes start to burn, but he shoved the feeling down. "Why are we doing this if I'm not good enough? Is it some kind of-"

"Stop it. Stop thinking those things about yourself."

Shinso looked up at his Sensei. With his hair put up and his own capture weapon on the ground next to Shinso's, Shinso could see his face clearly. It reassured him only slightly. Aizawa Sensei hadn't meant for anything to be said, and he seemed a bit surprised when Shinso stopped talking to look up at him. The man took it in stride.

"Shinso, it's my job as your teacher to help you improve. I'm supposed to notice your mistakes, so I can show you how not to make them again." Aizawa paused, but his mind didn't. "Who said you couldn't make mistakes? You're not on the battlefield yet. Nobody is dying yet. You have to make mistakes here, so you don't make them later."

Shinso's eyes burned again. "I don't want to make mistakes at all. How am I supposed to catch up if I keep fumbling here?"

"You don't get that choice." "You don't get that choice, kid." Somewhere, in Aizawa Sensei's mind, concrete smashed against the ground. The sound was muted but still gave Shinso a start. "You just have to keep working at it."

Shinso nodded and clenched his fists tighter. He just had to keep working.

"Auntie," Aizawa Sensei's thoughts sounded younger and more distant, like a memory, "I failed the exam. I'm... I'm not in the hero course."

"Oh, Shō," came the voice of a woman from Aizawa Sensei's mind. "Honey, come here."

"It's fine, Auntie. Mom was right. I'm just an ordinary person with a powerless quirk. I got into General Studies, and that's good enough, right?"

"Shōta," Sensei's... Aunt? started, "I can't say that I understand this goal of yours, but I won't let you give up on it either."

"It's over, Auntie."

"You have to keep trying, honey. You've come too far to stop now. Don't let your dream die."

Shinso jumped as concrete crashed to the ground again.

Aizawa Sensei was looking towards the sky. Shinso followed his gaze to see dark clouds edging towards campus. Someone in Sensei's mind let out a carefree laugh.

"We ended at a good time," Sensei mused, "it's going to rain soon."

Shinso felt compelled to say something personal to even the playing field, but he couldn't find anything that mattered. He settled on mumbling, "As long as I don't get caught in it, I don't really mind the rain. It smells nice."

Sensei looked over to him and just barely smiled, though something heavy hung in his eyes. "I agree."