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It's roughly 8:46 in the morning when Aizawa trudges into his classroom.
It is also approximately only a few seconds later when the entire class realizes he's not wearing his... usual attire.
When only crickets ensue, none of their usual hollering to tone down, Aizawa fixes them all a questioning glare. "What're you all looking at?" he barks out.
"Nothing, Aizawa-sensei!" they all chime out, equally as stunned as their peers beside them, save for Shinsou, looking positively enthralled.
Nobody piping up to answer makes the succeeding silence drag on.
Then, Aizawa merely heaves a sigh, looking further and further more worse for wear as he seemingly decides not to press it.
"Alright. With that all settled," and, holding out a book, it's slammed to the podium in one vigorous motion. The resounding echo makes a few students, particularly Jirou, wince hard. "Let's move onto the news of today."
While Aizawa runs through the lessons they'll be expected to attend, with him overseeing some due to Nedzu wanting to analyse teaching styles -- a particular bit of news that makes the colour in Midoriya's face drain, for reasons unknown -- the class breaks out into poorly hidden whispering.
English is mentioned first, prompting Kaminari to cup a hand over his mouth and lean over to Jirou when Aizawa's attention is focused solely on the text. "D'you think he lost a bet?"
Shooting a glare at Kaminari, Jirou chances a look back at the front (just to make sure he isn't listening), before turning back to him.
"Does anything about Aizawa suggest he'd just do it because of some bet, Kami?" she whispers, still struggling to contain her laughter.
"Why would he do it otherwise?"" Kaminari whines. "I mean, I would."
"No offense, bro, but you're the farthest thing from being the next Aizawa-sensei."
Looking over his shoulder, the blonde boy lets his hand languidly fall over his temple. "Hanta, you wound me."
"Better question is," Kirishima adds, lower lip bitten, "Why doesn't Shinsou look surprised?"
The fours' heads turn to said teen. In the front, though his face is barely visible from where they're all sat, it's clear that the side of his eyes they do see is tinted in glee.
A light bulb flicks on in Kaminari's head. "Do you think he--"
"Oy. You four. Did you think I wouldn't notice you scheming over there? Stop talking, or it's another week of detention for you, Kaminari."
"Why am I always the one being targeted," the blonde complains, though not much protest is offered when Erasure activates and, a moment later, his head turns back to his table.
The intimidation factor would've likely worked within an instant if it wasn't held back by the fact that their sensei is wearing everything exactly the same but pink.
Jumpsuit remaining black aside, only tinted a faint magenta, his capture weapon is entirely pink.
It is roughly 4:06 in the morning when he discovers Hizashi had decided to make his life hell.
"Where's my binding cloth," he asks offhandedly, attention prioritized on wiggling back into his undershirt. It had been a shorter patrol this time, 10 to 3 instead of his usual 8 to 4 schedule, but still, sleep would have to remain on the horizon if he wanted to remain somewhat functional this coming class at 8. Beyond that, there's also his immediate problem. "My other one was taken in as evidence. Where's the spare?"
Groggily, Hizashi blinks, stretching up from the bed. Green eyes squint. Without his glasses and light, likely having gone to bed only an hour earlier, he's likely too disgruntled to answer right. With little sympathy, Shouta snaps his fingers in front of him. "Yo. Hizashi. Binding cloth. Where."
After a moment, Hizashi blinks again, less slow this time.
"Leave it to a charming fella like yourself to ask so... nicely," he drawls out, lips curving upwards. "Even a caveman could speak more eloquently than you do sometimes."
A faint laugh leaves him. "I'll talk more nicely when I have it," he says, emphasizing it with a low grit, faintly amused at Hizashi's usual brand of teeth showing itself.
"It? What're ya..."
Dim in the room as it is, all the light in Hizashi's face is extinguished as his smile falters.
Though he tries to light a match quickly, throwing it back into the bonfire as it's tugged back on, Shouta catches it within an instant.
His brow raises. "What?"
"You want your... binding cloth," Hizashi says. Sitting upright, he adjusts himself, a hand leaning over to land on his knee and knead at it.
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Uh! No! But," and it's only here that the suspicion festers into a weed, "I'm not sure you'll be very happy with what you find."
His night can't get any worse.
Shorter patrol, somewhat tolerable students the other day, whatever Hizashi has supposedly done to his capture weapon can't be that bad.
Shouta rubs at the space between his eyes. "Try me."
"You dyed my binding cloth."
"Technically--"
"You dyed my binding cloth."
"It was looking a little..."
"Pink."
"Whatever you're thinking, it's not that. Don't hang me out at the rafters before ya know the full deal!"
"Then what's the full deal? Explain it to me."
"...I thought it would be funny."
"You thought it would-- I'm telling the class about the time you hopped onto my back because you thought you saw a spider."
"Hey, c'mon, in my defence, it did really look a lot like a spider. And you know how I get with those nasty critters... ugh. Pluuus, you threatened me first!"
"With what?"
"You said you were going to leave grape-flavoured jelly for me!"
"So?"
"I HATE grape!"
"I know."
"Jeez, and ya wonder--"
"I'm still telling the class."
"...You also did it to my jumpsuit?"