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circledotdestroy · 22 days

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Retrospective - Chapter 4: Professional Conversations

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (the slowest burn) Main summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First Chapter Last Chapter Word Count: 5,708

A/N: So Aizawa decided to comeback finally the other day... How are we feeling? Anyway, I hope this helps the manga readers. (I'm so sorry it's been over a month, life decided to throw me at the wall a few times. Because I've been struggling with posting chapters as often as I want to, I've decided after this one I will be cutting down the size. I hope it works out for the best, but that means there will be a larger number of chapters. I hope those of you that read my story don't care too much) (Also where the hell is Mic???)

For the rest of the meeting you stood breathless. Heart gushing blood through your ears. The words of your proposal dissolved as everything after cemented arrangements flowed into nothingness. You smiled, nodded, and told your new boss you understood his terms as his words reached your ears. Yet you grasped at nothing.

Nezu left the room satisfied. Said something about signing and a new ID. On his way out he wished you the best working for Eraser’s class. You did well, you think.

When Nezu was gone, heavy thunking and a giant shadow from the corner of your eye irritated you out of your trance. It was Mic, jiggling the briefcase by the handle. Your laptop was still in there! Slightly annoyed, you swiped at the handle to snatch it back. Mic pulled it away before you could, saying something about how he knows you can grab it, and to “try harder”.

You rolled your eyes in a huff, though now wasn’t a good time to break character. Right? You looked around the bright room and almost everyone was gone. The clock on the wall ticked away as you tried to place when everyone left on a timeline. Nemuri waved on her way out, All Might gave you a thumbs up. This was maybe five to seven minutes after you volunteered your time thoughtlessly. When the vote was over, the only people who needed to be in the room was you, Nezu, and—

You turned to the right of Mic’s chair. Eraser finished gathering his folders from his table. Nezu left the details of your position to him. There were many questions you had about being an advisor, but the main one was ‘what does Eraser have in mind?’ Eraser went around the table. Before you finished thinking you’d need to stop him to clarify your new temp job, he joined you and Mic in the center of the room.

In typical fashion, Mic caught on and spoke up before you thought of how to open. “You’re working with Strife then, Eraser? You excited?”

Eraser huffed, ignoring his question. Whether he regretted agreeing to the arrangement already, or he was annoyed Mic brought it up, you weren’t sure. So much for fostering a good professional relationship. You understood though. Just because something is objectively better, like having someone help you prepare twenty kids for a grueling exam, doesn’t mean it’s what you wanted. “I need to talk to Strife. Alone.”

Mic’s grin left his face as he looked at you then back at Eraser then back at you. “Alright,” his smile came back as he shrugged. Mic flipped your briefcase over his shoulder and walked toward the door, leaving you with the friend-of-a-friend. “Try not to keep her too long!” Eraser watched Mic leave the room. In the silence, the conversation you had earlier came to your mind again. Now that you owe him, thinking of how you stormed off earlier made you want to ask Mic to stay. Not out of fear, but because he’d make this interaction less uncomfortable.

But it was too late when the door shut.

You and Eraser. Alone. In a bright, empty room. There’s no need for played up charisma—not when he was past it all and knew you were full of it. Eraser, unexpectedly, held out the folders to you. Grabbing the small stack cautiously with both hands, you thought back to your earlier theory about the folders holding information meant to cast you out. If that was the case then he wouldn’t give you these now. Not when he can hold the folders as leverage for later. Eraser didn’t say a word until you flipped open the first folder, on the top there was a school photo of a boy with red hair. “My class starts training today in Gamma at 9:30.” Toward the middle there was another picture of him in the UA gym uniform. One of his arms was rigid like the side of a cliff, while the other looked normal. “Those contain the information of a few students in my class, I’ll give you more later. I want them to work on creating Ultimate Moves for the exams.”

That’s it?

Eraser could’ve done that without you. Why would he agree to the deal, if the training was independent work?

Your finger traced the paper up to the lines next to the headshot of the boy. The first line should be his name. Squinting at the page, your eyes bounced across the paper. The page was incomprehensible, a salad of lines and squares. You closed the folder and looked at the gray capture weapon again, it was easier to see what actions he’d take if you looked around his shoulders. “It’d be best if I observe the students before I read the files.”

Eraser shifted his weight to one leg, causing a shift where his weapon overlapped. “Any reason why?” His weapon was too clean for it to be used frequently. Maybe he got it replaced recently? Yet again, with everything you heard about the school, his students fighting off villains without licenses… it’d make sense if he was sidelined from doing hero work if his teaching his class was a handful.

“I want to judge them myself,” you answered, mirroring his stance. You lowered the folders in front of your body. Eraser made no moves to take them from you. “Judges don’t read about people taking the test before the exam. It’s like how students don’t meet judges grading the exam. It plays into…” you tried to find the right word. An equivalent to “impressions”, but drawn blank. You raised a gloved hand to pick the word out of the air. Eraser just leaned back with a vacant stare making it harder to concentrate. You closed your eyes and sighed as you settled on “-first sight, if you understand.”

When you opened your eyes, Eraser gave no input of his own. He stared blankly, with nothing to suggest he knew what you meant.

Language switching wouldn’t be acceptable with him like it would be with Hizashi. If you were supposed to give advice to students, then you’d need to communicate clearly. How often would you have to play Word Find in front of teenagers? If you wanted to stay here long enough to locate Akari—hell, if you wanted to investigate in Japan, you needed to get your act together. And quick. “It would also help if they are focused on their training, not a stranger in the room.” While you figure out the mechanics of their quirks, you can have some time to think about and practice what you’ll say. It’ll be just like the first year.

“My students won’t get distracted,” Eraser crossed his arms, with an edge in his voice. Defensive? “But fine. It’s logical enough. We’ll still meet at Gamma and set something up for you to get the information needed, but the class still has to meet you today. There’s only 10 days of training, no time should be wasted.”

Fair enough. If they’re training ultimate moves, you only need a little time to get the gist of their quirks for day one. Details can come later. It should give you enough time for a language refresher. “Anything else?”

Glancing at the ground, his boots pointed toward the door. Unlike his weapon, those were scuffed and broken in. The man is as ready to leave as you are. “We have everything covered. For now. We can talk more after you observe the class. We’ll discuss more when the time comes. For now, we’re building their strengths and hammering out weak points.”

The conversation ended and he finished, about to walk out the door. Footsteps thudded against the hard floor as he made his exit. You thought you were ready to see him leave, but “Wait—!”

Eraser paused.

The hand raised toward him recoiled into a loose fist. You put it away before he turned back. When he did, your eyes trailed to his boots again. “The way I walked out…” They were pointed toward you, and not the door. Good to know you had his full attention this time around. He hummed, that type of thing would be hard to forget in less than a few hours. You tried to find the rest of your sentence and got stuck at a fork in the road.

Were you supposed to say an apology you didn’t mean?

You weren’t sorry about why you left. In fact, business and gratitude aside, you were still mad at him. Not that it matters. “I didn’t act my best,” you said, looking up from the ground. What you feel now— it means nothing.

The man blinked slowly then glanced off to the side closest to the door. Bored already… Him listening to what you had to say was only professional courtesy.

“I didn’t act my best. You’re giving me this opportunity to let me complete my mission faster, and you don’t have to.” You were going to work with him. You’ll help his class. All of them will get their license. In return, you’ll get the answers you need. When all is said and done, Eraser won’t ever see the Pro-Hero Strife again. “Thank you, Eraser.” Words fell out smooth as sand on your tongue, but you can look at his face again.

Eraser rubbed the back of his neck, dodging your gaze by glancing at the ceiling. “If you judged licensing exams before then you’re an asset. Letting you investigate here is a rational trade, I’d be an idiot to vote against it,” he explained listlessly, meeting your eyes toward the end.

You nodded. “Of course…” After a hectic few hours, this was how your conflict ended. All personal grudges all under the bridge… Just like that.

Because you two are adults. Two adults with jobs to do– professionals.

You walked past the other hero, your short-term coworker, explained how you didn’t want to keep Mic waiting. He understood, told you he’d have more information ready later. Both of you went into the hallway. Mic was trying really hard to make it look like he wasn’t listening in. Mic tried dodging the suspicion by bringing up food. Fortunately for him, with the way you’ve been using your power– on top of the healing quirk, you needed calories. Enough to fill a black hole with the way your stomach squeezed. Eraser didn’t have the same worries as you. In seconds, he was long in the opposite direction and you were fine.

Mic led you around campus talking about Lunchrush, another member of UA’s immortality club. With your past experience in the kitchen, a new respect toward the man has grown. He was in charge of preparing enough food for hundreds of people. Showing up unannounced for food felt like an invasion. Lunchrush would have little use for American currency. You really should stop at the bank to make an exchange soon. When you arrived at the cafeteria Mic gave your briefcase back, told you to wait while he worked his “magic”. He strolled backward into the kitchen door, finger guns blazing, to the orchestra of scraping metal. Not long after he came out of the kitchen holding two trays. One with a giant bowl and another with four smaller ones on them. You went to help him but he pointed his chin to a nearby table for you to sit. You hurried to the table, pulling one chair out for Mic then going around to the chair closest to the wall for you to sit.

“Lunchrush thought the request was weird for this time of day, but I figured it’d be closer to dinner for you.” Mic put the tray with smaller dishes on his side of the table. Savory steam floated from his food. His tray had savory broth and spring onion with either soft tofu or an onsen egg (it was hard to tell from your angle), plain rice, the fluffiest rolled omelet, and a strip of tender salmon. It was a feast for the eyes and you can almost taste it on your tongue.

You looked at Hizashi before you drooled over the table like a rabid animal. From your angle, it seemed as if there were no side dishes on the tray he was still carrying. His buckling elbow told you the bowl was heavy. “I tried to get your favorite, but you usually brought your own thing when you finally learned to cook for yourself.” He went to place your food on the table. When you reached to grab the tray, Mic pulled it away. You raised your eyebrow at him. The joke would’ve been more funny if your stomach wasn’t clawing inward to digest itself. Hizashi held the tray closer to you, but pulled it away when you tried grabbing it again.

“Excuse me?”

You expected him to laugh in your face then give you your meal, but his expression hadn’t changed from the slightly amused smile from earlier. The tray floated further from your reach as the man before you held the tray high like he was the cover model posing for Waiter’s Weekly. Hizashi looked down, his pose statue-esque. “You never said anything about Kaneko visiting you.”

You put your hands under the table. Once shielded under the table, your fingers interlaced firmly. “I didn’t mean to make you look bad, I’m sorry.” You really were, you’d apologize even if the beloved sustenance was in your grasp. Peering up again, the statue pose relaxed, but Hizashi made no moves to hand you the tray. “The case has been a lot, I guess,” you couldn’t truthfully tell him you forgot to say anything.

“Right—it just slipped your mind.” Mic teased with lasers scanning across your body. You stopped leaning over the table and forced yourself to sit straight. The wound became slightly itchy– a small price to pay. Was he going to ask about you calling him? “I’m gonna keep it real, you’ve been forgetting about a lot of things.”

“I’m not the only one,” you thought, focus gliding to empty tables toward your right until you heard a sigh.

“You’re talking about Aizawa?” The plastic tray thudded on the table. A treacherous scrap made you wince when Hizashi pulled his chair further out to join you at the table. “I wasn’t trying to blindside you either.”

Steam curled into the air from the large bowl creating a veil between the two of you. Your fingers laced tighter, expecting Hizashi to say something else. Unless it was your turn to speak. You acknowledge his statement with a small nod. You moved your tray closer to your end of the table, hot vapor hit your face. You looked into the bowl. Hizashi got you a bowl of udon. The noodles were abundant with just enough rich broth, and it was topped with a crazy amount of vegetables and protein—the perfect thing for your current situation. In spite of your hunger, a lump formed in your throat. Most udon wasn’t supposed to include all these toppings, there was only one restaurant you remember including this much food without having to add on. Hizashi wasn’t playing around with what he said earlier.

“What are we waiting for,” Hizashi asked, breaking the tension. “Let’s eat!”

The two of you dug into your meals. As experience taught you, eating good food really does help move pain along. When you get the opportunity to combine the nutrients with sleep, you should feel a whole lot better the next time you wake up.

“How do you feel,” asked Hizashi.

You hummed with a slight jerk, worried he remembered your end of the call from days ago. When you processed the teasing edge to his voice, you relaxed.

“Mentor Strife coming out of retirement, didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Mic had a cocky smile. “And after you told me you couldn’t multitask—”

“Not multitasking.” While you didn’t plan for this to be the mission, the mission is what the mission becomes. In this case the mission is finding Akari and helping Eraser’s students pass their test. The latter is secondary, but you know better than to walk around owing people. “I’m not mentoring students.” The students don’t need one–they already have teachers. “I’m helping them pass a test. That’s it.”

Mic pouted mockingly toward you and you mirrored him briefly before drinking some broth. “Not gonna stay to celebrate after? That’s cold,” Mic shook his head, pointing his chopsticks at you lightheartedly.

“By the time of the exam, there shouldn’t be a reason why I’m still at school. I need to finish work here before the hotel bill gets expensive. I want to go back to work soon.”

“Stay at the dorms then! We have all the room in the world. Unless…” Mic trails off, and you already know where this is going. “Personal feelings getting in the way of your job?”

You drop your spoon into the bowl tight-lipped. “I like my space,” you smiled.

“Space from who exactly?”

“Children,” you showed your teeth, hoping he’d get the hint.

Mic put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You don’t know who’s working at a hotel. Plus there’s more guests day in and day out than a rock festival. If someone knows what they’re doing, they can find what room you’re in. Swipe a keycard and mess with your stuff.”

“You think Akari would do that,” you asked.

“Were we looking at the right scene earlier?” You leaned back and clutched your nonexistent pearls at his sudden outburst. Mic shook his head, “what i’m trying to say is: If Kaneko finds out where you are, it’d be a huge blow to your plan. If you don’t want to stay at the dorms because of your gross personal feelings–” Mic gagged, rolling his eyes back dramatically. Which, admittedly, got a smile out of you. “Then you could stay at my place– it’s not like I’m using it.”

“No way.” You shook your head. “I don’t know what you have there!”

“My apartment’s clean! Cleaner than yours ever was– I remember your–” Mic said a term you didn’t know the meaning of followed by “Disgusting!”

“I wasn’t talking about those.”

“Because you can’t,” Mic interrupted.

You put a finger in the air, “I’m staying at the hotel. The hotel is close to the train station and I’ll have to travel around for the case anyway. If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave my research here.”

“And if Kaneko finds you?”

You leaned back from Hizashi, you grabbed your chopsticks and chose a random topping floating in the broth. Tilting your head, you pondered his question and thought about what the right answer should be. If Akari were standing in front of you, in your hotel room, after everything she did. Looking back up at Mic, you shrugged. “Let her.”

When the meal was done, you and Mic had to go your separate ways for the morning. He had no problem giving you a refresher on gamma’s location, despite your constant reassurances for him not to. As predicted, the directions confused you into taking longer to leave the building. A good general idea based on your memory, turned into a jumble of lefts and rights. Spotting for “this” symbol over “that” one. Somehow to the gym before Eraser and his class. No one was heading out of the school from where you can, either. Trying your luck you pushed the door open, leading to a hallway that seemed to be in an ‘L’ shape. Exploring further, you spotted the double doors leading inside the gym. These doors were locked, however.

You leaned on the door, not understanding why the class wouldn’t arrive earlier. Didn’t the staff want the first years to get their license as soon as possible? When the time came around for you, you’d rush to one of the training areas whenever you could. The ticking clock on the wall counted the seconds of your growing impatience. It made it hard to focus on your own thoughts. The off white tiles on the floor stretched out into a blurred vision of mind numbing boredom, then there was an aggressive prodding.

You slid to the floor– no one was near the building. The small hide away surrounding the entrance would be fantastic for cover if villains ever got into the school. The hall was nice and flat too. You could throw a baseball at a good angle, have it bounce off the wall and knock someone out like that one ti— you needed something productive. Taking your phone out of your case, you checked the notifications. Nothing. Then you looked at your laptop. No one was coming yet, you had another twenty minutes, why not check that too?

Pulling out the laptop, muscle memory took over. It came to a halt when the page wouldn’t load, no connection to the wifi it said. Checking the schools network, you were surprised to know Nezu never changed the password. Refreshing the page, you finally got into your account. The usual night crew should start their shift now. You moved the cursor to your workload and smiled seeing a red circle on your inbox link. When you clicked it you were happy to see you got a message from Gold Rush, the coworker who volunteered to work on the home-side of the case while you were away. Clicking on the message icon, you hoped he could tell you about what he found while you were in the infirmary.

Unfortunately, he just messaged you to say he just clocked in and wanted to see if you landed ok. It wasn’t what you wanted to read, you sighed, but replied about your progress. He put a thumbs up on the message. From there you had to strain your eyes to read the next block of text. Gold planned to take another look around your neighborhood, ask around to see if anyone saw Akari going into the building before your apartment was demolished— check out the damage again, if you were “okay” with it. When it’s over, he’ll send his notes on the last few days before his shift ends.

Pressing your lips together, you typed “thank you” then stuffed the laptop in your briefcase. Everything should be fine. Gold was the one who found the postcard Akari left when you were out. You worked with him at the agency for years at this point. He pulled his weight and kept up with you fine. He can hold down what little fort is left, while you’re here. Helping hero trainees.

You closed your eyes, already exhausted at the prospect of standing up again, but you pushed against the floor. Hold onto the wall. Seethe at some sharp pain in your side for a half-second.

See. Everything will be fine.

How could it not be?

You stretched your arms out and then walked in circles. After a minute or two, the pain didn’t hurt as bad. Maybe calories were all you needed.

Then there was a faint buzzing down your spine. No echoes in the halls. Just a ticking clock and your beating heart.

A jolt.

It must be a group outside. Eraserhead and his class finally showed– no doubt about it. You went for your briefcase, not taking your eyes off the hallway. When muffled voices reached your ears, you were perfectly in the center holding the case at your side. There was another jolt, then a surge hit you full swing. The pain was gone and you felt alive.

What a lively—and/or terrified— group! You forgot how strong teenagers felt about things. Yet again, the last you were around this many of them was when you were a teenager who felt just as strong. If they were told about the exam prior, they’re either rushing to get the ball rolling or having their heart explode over the deadline.

Turning the corner, the sea of students was technicolor. And louder than you prepped for. You took it all in. First impressions are integral to how citizens, and therefore judges, view a hero. What were you working with?

The boy with glasses looked like a knight with tubes coming out of his legs– a speed quirk probably? You could see civilians going to him to get them somewhere safe. If he was as strong as he looked, he could pack a punch on larger villains on the way out.

Two students reminded you of Present Mic when he was a teenager. Both of them, a boy and a girl wearing jackets that made them look like little rockstars! The boy had an electricity motif going on, so anybody can roughly guess what his power is—and the girl was wearing boots! And they had speakers? She must have a sound quirk like Mic, fantastic! If they play their cards right, they’ll never go broke.

While you can guess the quirk of those three, many students’ quirks were up in the air. One boy, with a nasty scar over his eye, wore a plain, navy blue jumpsuit. Another boy wore one with black, white, and a bit of yellow–who also had a mutation affecting his elbows, but you couldn’t guess what his quirk would be. At least he was stylish.

When it came to the girls' uniforms you were disappointed. The designers were STILL giving trainees heels! How are they supposed to run top speed in busted terrain? Unbelievable!

Noticing the girls’ inadequate footwear opened the floodgates on the design flaws on the others. Lack of armor and padding on the boy with a giant tail and the girl with pink skin. Lack of support for the tallest girl wearing a unitard exposing her vital organs. She could be like Midnight and need skin exposure, but you doubt the support company has never seen a sports bra before. The worst sin you bore witness to is a short, purple kid wearing a diaper—a self-respecting hero wouldn’t design that!

The students in front of the line stopped chatting among themselves. Some jumped at the sight of you. The rest of the class went quiet as they assessed you, this stranger, standing in the middle of their hallway where you don’t belong.

“I’m not a villain.”

No one laughed. The students’ expressions were vacant, they probably thought you were a dork. Your finger twitched as you thought of throwing your hand up and peacing out of there. Why did you volunteer for this position? You stood your ground and stared ahead. Judgemental teenagers won’t be the end of your resolve.

Eraser turned the corner, walking ahead of the silent crowd. “You showed up early.”

“I don’t show up late.”

Toward the end of the line of students Midnight waved at you as she stood with two other men. One looked like a cinder block-snowman, the other had a swanky trenchcoat and bared his teeth. You waved back at your friend, and a few students turned toward the back of the line. Eraser gestured to everyone, Midnight and the other two teachers included, to go inside the Gym. There’s something he had to take care of and he’ll be back in a minute, he said before giving the key to the boy with the knight outfit. The boy took the key with extreme duty, saying he was honored for the responsibility. Nice to know who the energetic one is.

Eraser handed you blue file folders, similar to the ones you put in your briefcase earlier then started walking ahead of you. He explained the folders had the quirks of the students you’re working with. He took you to another door he had to unlock. It was a sharp contrast to the bright hallways from before. Some cobwebs hung from the dim ceiling and the stair railing. This was the type of place a killer would drag a victim to hold them for a few days. When he turned the light switch on, it was still darker than the outside, but not the worst place you’ve been too.

Eraser approached the table against the wall holding a couple of computer monitors. He set up the tablet he tucked under his arm to the primary computer, explaining how to flip through the cameras. He said you can take notes on the tablet or in folders, but no matter what he’d need the tablet back. If you wanted anything to think over then you’d need to take notes manually, or bust out your own laptop.

“I know for the best results, you need time to study the students, but try to wrap it up in around the twenty minute mark,” he explained as he finished setting up. He rolled a chair from the right of the table for you to sit. After everything from earlier, it was hard to believe you both were being professional about this. He must really want his class to pass. “Time is short, and there’s a lot to see in-person too.”

You sat, swiveling the chair. “Got it. No loitering,” you tapped the screen experimentally and the camera shifted. Eraser didn’t react to the statement, but you knew better than to expect him too. You were just here for the job.

Eraser asked if you had anything you needed to know anything else. Scanning the room again, you settled on asking where the stairs led. Apparently, it was an observation room. He said you could watch the class up there with you and leave the equipment alone; but he knew for a fact why you wouldn’t.

You minded your manners and thanked him for setting up for you before he left for his class. You shook your head as the door shut, his class. Just as you said before, he may have been good with children, but Eraser being a teacher voluntarily was weird. Weirder being alone in a secret backroom.

The air brushed against your neck giving you chills. Where you sit, anyone can come behind you from either the stairs or the door if you weren’t mindful. You shifted the position of the chair’s seat toward the blank wall. With the stairwell’s rotation starting on your right and the table being under the “left” portion of the room, you should have better access to see everything that way.

Soon, Eraser entered Gamma. He talked to his class for a while. Safe to say, it was about the exam. Midnight stepped beside him, her finger pointing in the air, then Cinderblock did the same thing. It was a cult practice. After he spoke, he turned around and walked away from the group. The boy in the knight outfit was giving a reaction to the Smile Man. The man wasn’t opening his mouth though— were they having a psychic conversation? The knight was pleased by what the Smile Man told him. Other students were giving him weird looks, further proving the psychic theory.

Eraser spoke again and then the towers of rocks grew to the ceiling. Wait… You switch the camera view on one of the monitors and the structures reached 90% of the way to the ceiling. Back on the ground Smile Man threw up and more of himself formed, gross, but whatever gets the job done? The students were used to it at this point, because they were obviously hyped.

Starting now, you have twenty minutes to gather as much intel as possible. You clicked the screen to change the camera as fast as possible. The pink, moth girl worked with a substance oozing from her skin. A shorter boy, with a mutant quirk and a cloak, walked with Smile Man toward a farther corner of the gym to a cave structure. The boy with the tail started battling with a Smile Man and he was doing rather well. His combat skills were up-to-par, something undervalued considering not ALL villains are interested in leveling a city.

You switched the camera and nausea hit the back of your throat. The students were walking up the structures and there were no railings. OSHA would have a field day over these violations. Nausea hit you again when you remembered you’d have to join on said OSHA violations. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Eraser agreed to let you tutor his class to torment you. Like in the second you brought up the quid pro quo, he thought of the best way to make you quit and violate the agreement. Pushing the dread aside, you wrote as many notes on the students as you could before twenty minutes were over.

Fun fact: systems change all the time during American Licensing Exams. It’s part of the reason why first impressions matter so much. A good impression can add points, or prevent you from losing points in deduction-based systems. A bad impression will have the reverse effect, and frame everything someone does negatively. It’s easy to say only technical skills should matter, but you need to expect the people to have poor judgment if you want the students to succeed.

You looked at the time and saw you had four minutes before close. You rushed to finish your last thoughts on the student– the boy from the file earlier, so you can join everyone at the gym. You thought about what advice you should give to him. It was clear from how he hit he put a lot of thought into strength, but if he could work on his speed— You wrote it all down, but then you heard the most GRATING ring you can imagine coming from your side. You recoiled at the sound and saw the monitors were frozen. The tablet on your side blinded you with harsh, white light.

You squinted at the tablet, your head starting to hurt from the obnoxious, high pitch. You wanted it to stop. You shot from the chair, yanking the cords out of the device as it beeped at you for a password. On the screen, there was a crude image of two stick figures– an adult and a child.

Eraser put a parental lock on the tablet.

Taglist:

@lonelyghosts-stuff

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x you #retrospective by dot #aizawa x y/n #bnha aizawa

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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Midnight's birthday!!

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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I haven’t written in days :(

#a lot of changes have been happening so I’ve been busier #I’m moving forward with my new job but I’m nervous about continuing my training #I know I need this because I NEED to move out #I’m not making enough to afford that for the state I live in tho #I don’t want to risk becoming burned out again either #I’m already having trouble being independent when it comes to other adult things like driving #I’m trying to be positive but it’s like I’m stuck either way #it’s either toughing it out until I work long enough to get a raise or get overtime or risk becoming homeless #this is not even touching the undiagnosed mental health problems I have #I think I’m done playing my tiny violin #sorry if this ended up on your feed

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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While reading, I was reminded of this quote for the Reader

“When I was a child I loved summer. Then I realized if you have money, summer can be anytime you want! So now, as an adult, I like money”

(I love how mc is trying to keep her eyes on the prize despite the temptation of the Beautiful Sleepy Man)

I’m wondering if the Doctor thing ever comes up again (I have to get to my original place and then I have to read further to find out). My prediction so far is the mc was burned out. Studying to be a doctor is serious business, LOTS of studying required and very stressful. Mc either downsized her goals altogether as a result, or just downsized her plan

I’m not sure if you meant for MC to be neurodivergent-coded, but typical advice for nds needing a job that won’t burn them out, is to get into custodial work because it’s repetitive with minimal interaction with others.

Maybe I’m looking into things too deeply, maybe she just always wanted a vacation then one day she saw a job opening and ran the numbers. I personally love ND reader characters (I have my own ND reader character for that reason 😆) and I read your mc that way rn, but I’ll have to read more to see really see what’s going on here

Thank you for the fic, I look forward to reading the next chapter of MC getting that bag

Not Today Mister - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

He was so fucking pretty, this man was the definition of natural beauty, you swore. That hair was so soft looking and he smelled so good, so warm. You smacked your face to stop yourself from thinking about him too much, because you needed to fix this problem.

There was no way you were letting Aizawa Shouta stop you from going on your dream vacation.

He was just a man. (And a teacher and a hero that saved multiple lives).

You can beat this down. You can avoid getting a crush as long as you can avoid him. Perfect. You could do that easily, you were stealthy as the only janitorial staff on campus (and busy).

You were done for the day, after you strolled down the campus again an hour and a half everyone had left their respective places. Some students had been allowed in only two gyms, so you knew you’d have to go and clean that up later tonight, which you were fine with. The gyms would be closing around 10:30, unless there were other staff there.

You went back to your floor to make some late lunch. You were happy that you bought some groceries right after you moved in, because you would have had to go and buy it now – which you really wouldn’t want to do.

The noise level was ranging from high to higher, but you could live with it, since you would just listen to them for entertainment.

You were sure you might have heard someone screaming about how “Charlie bit my finger”, and that same kid shouted about memes again.

Another notable thing you heard was someone screaming about the noise levels and that there were rules here and how people must be respectful and understand that they should be quiet. It was funny, and you agreed with him mostly but you were annoyed he had screamed that out loud.

Other people were too, because they all shouted back to shut up.

Once they were all in their rooms, you were happy to roam around your floor to mostly silence as you ate your late lunch.

Each bedroom/personal room was soundproof but the hallways and the lounge area/living area? The kitchen and the bathrooms? You could hear it all. It was okay… yeah, you could live with it.

You played some music on the speakers which were lowered considerably for the other floors. You knew they wouldn’t be able to hear it and it thankfully drained out the voices from the floors. There was peace, once again. You grinned, feeling successful.

The late lunch you made was barely considered a meal – just some ramen and you blended up some frozen strawberries to make a smoothie. It was delicious.

Your phone started ringing and you quickly answered, “Hello, this is Y/n speaking.”

“Sweetie, when were you going to tell me your janitor job was at UA?? The school? The best school in the world? You are insane, I swear. You knew I wanted to be a teacher there!” Your friend practically blasted into your ear, you pulled the phone away with a chuckle.

“I couldn’t tell you then, it was in the contract! NDAs and whatnots, but I could tell you now cause I live here. But you can’t teach here, you still have to retire as a hero and stuff, and I know you aren’t ready to retire. You barely just started – what was it, two years ago? You didn’t even go here for high school!” You replied, laughing a bit more.

She sighed, “I’m not even a hero, I’m a sidekick still. You’re right, ugh, I should’ve just tried being a teacher instead of a pro hero.”

You pouted, “Shut up, don’t talk low about yourself. You have the ability to be a great pro hero. And you can still be a teacher, I mean, if you really want to, you can quit and go teach or again, wait until you’re retired.”

“Oh, god, I just realized something.” She gasped into the phone, and it made you clutch the phone tighter.

“What’s wrong?” You responded, worried.

“I can’t come over anymore, can I? Oh no, we can’t have movie nights or karaoke nights or any nights anymore.” Aya groaned loudly over the phone.

You blinked and then for a moment you wondered if that was true, “I’ve gotta ask the boss about that, but I think he’d let you in. You are in the hero business and if anything happened, you’d be able to defend yourself and others.”

“You’re smart. I can’t believe you didn’t finish going to school to be a doctor.” She noted back and you snorted.

“I found a faster way to go on my dream vacation, that’s why I didn’t finish school.” You shot back and she sighed.

“Whatever, let me know when you talk to your boss, and if I can’t come over then I’ll sneak in. But I have to go now, see you later sweetie, bye.” She hung up after you said goodbye back.

You hummed to yourself, then wrote down a note for when you would next see Nezu, you’d ask him if Aya could come by.

Around 10:40, you rolled by the two gyms to start cleaning them up. You had taken a nap earlier to waste some time.

Thankfully there was no one outside of the first gym, and once you got inside, the lights were already turned off. You turned them on and paused when you heard a grunting sound.

You paused in your movement, eyes wide as you slowly turn your head to look into the gym.

There, in the corner, someone was using one of the training material, on one of the blue mats that were laying out on the floor.

You didn’t say anything, hoping to stay silent and let them do their work out. You didn’t look at them for much longer than a second before you started to do your job.

Maybe you should have come back later, after that person was done with their work out, but you felt like it was a decent time for you to finish up.

You didn’t recognize whoever it was, your vision wasn’t very well. In fact, you should have brought your glasses with you to do your job, but you didn’t tonight.

As you slowly started to get lost in your work, cleaning some equipment, the mysterious person walked over and stood behind you, not saying anything. You didn’t notice at first as you were scrubbing one of the pieces of equipment with a sanitizing wipe.

“You turned the lights on.” He spoke up, dully watching as you turned around, spooked out of your mind.

You couldn’t stop the gasp coming out of your mouth as you realized it was Aizawa, once again. You stared at him, for a few moments before forming a reply, “Excuse me!” And again, you pushed past him, and this time you shut the lights off and ran out of the gym, forgetting your cleaning equipment.

Not again.

This was the second time he’s arrived and now you have been distracted enough to not do your job. This was most definitely not good.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #aizawa shouta x reader #fic rec

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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I decided to reread this fic as a birthday treat to myself, and I’m so glad I am! I love this Reader so much— a socially awkward person whose heart’s desire is a vacation. It’s very down to earth and relatable which is funny considering everything that goes down in MHA

I can’t wait to read more! ❤️❤️❤️

Not Today Mister - Chapter 1

very short story (hopefully) with our babe Aizawa!!

Aizawa Shouta x Reader Word Count: 1k

You stared blankly at the screen as you read the email once again, informing you that you had to move into UA if you wanted to keep your job there. You needed that job – to pay for your rent here, yes, but also to save up for your dream vacation (and perhaps early retirement) to an always sunny happy beach.

“I truly regret not bringing this up as a possibility sooner as I am responsible for the safety and care of all of our students and staff. Due to recent discoveries, the school board and I have agreed that it is safer to have everyone live on campus. We will now have mandatory live ins for students and teachers in separate dorm rooms. Our extra staff will have to decide to either stay on as a worker or leave here. Rooms are available for our extra staff, free of charge, and the pay is currently the same, with no adjustments. Sorry for this inconvenience.

Best regards,

Principal Nezu”

You blinked again as you looked at the time on your laptop – he sent this out at 2AM. You hummed quietly, wondering if this was real or if this was a dream, because it was certainly making you feel very excited.

All you had to do now was move in and work your regular job as one of the janitorial staff and in half the time of working there, you’d be able to go on your dream vacation in no time!

As it turns out, you were the only one of the janitorial staff to sign on and move into the new UA dorms. You had the floor to yourself technically since no one else had moved in during that time, but your room was cute and quaint as you decorated it, beach themed. You were the only one that didn’t have anything tied to you outside of your work that required you to be at home (or outside of work). You had already taken on most of the work before you moved in, and it was no problem.

You sighed happily as you stared into your small space.

It wasn’t quite different from your apartment that you moved out of, since your bedroom looked the exact same and now the kitchen was a communal kitchen (that you had to yourself) and a large bathroom connected to your room that definitely had more settings compared to your last apartment.

“Hello, sunny weather and sandy beaches in no time!” You cheered to yourself, pouring a glass of celebratory drink.

Just as you turned to take a sip, you heard a large “THUNK”, and you flinched, causing the drink to splatter over your face and down your shirt.

…Ah, so maybe there was one slight problem. You would have to deal with the students and other staff that lived on the other floors.

Waking up in your brand new room was relaxing as ever – that’s what you thought at first but then you heard it, the slight yelling a floor under you.

“HE NEEDS SOME MILK!” “SHUT UP WITH THE DAMN MEMES!”

You giggled. Okay, you could deal with that, right? Memes and some swearing from teens in the hero program. That would be no problem whatsoever. As you got ready for the day, you started to imagine all the other things you could do to the floor you had to yourself.

It could be all beach themed! That would be incredible!

Painted waves and painted palm trees on a few walls as an accent piece, some succulents in a few corners spotted with cute flowers, some seashells and beach cones on a few tables… Everything would be perfect.

When you got dressed in your usual work attire, you had a brighter smile than usual and with that, you left the room. You managed to sneak down the stairs without running into any of the students or the other staff, thankfully. But you did notice one boy was staring at you as you walked out of the building and into the first gym on your list.

You recalled his name was Midoriya Izuku, the one you cheered for as you watched the sports event on one of the many TVs in a hallway in the school.

You cleaned the first gym easily and in record time. Next, you set off to the hallway connected to the gym, cleaning the floor.

You were the only one up on this side of the school it seemed. You always had to get up extra early to clean and you were glad that no one bugged you before – and now you were glad that it hadn’t happened either!

You were almost sure that some kids would get up and try to talk to you, but they didn’t, and you were happy.

It was about midday when you were almost done with all your general tasks. All you had to do was clean the teachers’ lounge and then you were set to practically run free. Or as Nezu put it, “you can roam the halls to pick up anything that gets left behind! If you ever want company, please drop by! Of course, your day ends when everything is clean.”

You grinned thinking about Nezu. He was a great boss, and he always looked out for the kids.

You had dropped by once, before you moved in, to say a quick hello to him and after he shook your hand, he quickly took hold of both of them and sighed deeply – making you gape at him, confused.

“Your hands smell wonderful, and they are so very warm! Please come back again!” He told you and you laughed very hard together for so long that he ended up making you a cup of tea to go.

You reached the teachers’ lounge within a few minutes.

It was still mostly spotless compared to the last time you cleaned it, but still you did your best. You refilled the coffee cups and necessities, fluffed the pillows on each of the cozy green sofas and threw out the trash.

No one had stopped by when you were cleaning, thank goodness. You were never good at small talk.

Except, when you went to leave, you opened the door to someone standing extremely still, watching you like a predator.

It was a teacher who you knew by the pro hero’s name, Eraserhead, also known as Aizawa. He looked… angered or perhaps it was embarrassment. You couldn’t name it, but you couldn’t help but stare back at him with awe.

He was gorgeous.

So very gorgeous, to the point you might have to say he’s a 12/10. Hottie. Your jaw dropped slightly, thoughts running through your mind at top speed about this man’s beauty. You felt heat rush up to your face and before he could say anything, you knew you had to leave before you could embarrass yourself.

“Excuse me!” You tumbled out, eyes blinking rapidly now, instead of that full long stare you gave him back. Without much else, you practically pushed him out of your way and ran out of the teachers’ lounge.

You have never encountered him before. This was never an issue. You didn’t encounter many people before you moved in, which was good! But this – this would be a problem.

Aizawa Shouta, the most beautiful and most handsome man on Earth, is now your biggest dilemma and blocking you from going on your dream vacation.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #fic rec

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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I turned 20 🎉

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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#bnha aizawa #shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #shota aizawa #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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I turn 20 in 2 days, and idk what I want to do. How do you plan these things?

#dot thoughts

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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I haven’t written a long fic before Retrospective (in the past I wrote oneshots), and let me tell you the hardest thing is having to keep track everything on the chapters I’ve posted

I’m not talking about major plot points, I’m talking about the small stuff, like where the injuries are and how bad they feel, who knows what information, and what one person feels toward another at a given point.

So far I posted over 14k words and it WILL increase. I need to start keeping up with my notes. Especially because things are getting more heated between the Reader and Aizawa in Chapter 4

#retrospective by dot #aizawa shouta x reader

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

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REBLOGGING BECAUSE ITS BEEN A YEAR SINCE WE’VE SEEN AIZAWA AND MIC

Retrospective - Chapter 3: Square One

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Main Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First Chapter Last Chapter Word Count: 6,133

A/N: I'm back before a whole month passed! To celebrate, here's the chapter I spent those weeks revising. If you have any notes on how I did regarding the second portion in particular, I would appreciate it because it changed about 5 times. Anyway, it's A LOT of words so get comfy! I hope you enjoy the fic, and have a wonderful day.

All conflict is announced with lightning. Half your life was lightning rattling inside a box. Spine. Skull. Ribs. Fingers. The electricity, the HEAT craved consumption. All the things you were: fire, lighting, heat, raw energy– they were the visible manifestation of reactivity.

Pointed gazes of your classmates charged you with the focus of a wall outlet. But you weren’t training right now. Homeroom finished seconds ago. You didn’t do anything–this time. No pre-battle taunts. No staring back. No staring at all, really. Akari missed out on today’s episode of “Strife’s Astute Observational Skills” because you had to pay attention to your homeroom teacher.

Today was the day. You couldn’t misunderstand or forget a single word he said.

This moment was your career, your life. It was the CRUCIAL event of debuting your early hero career; and the whole world was going to see.

So why was everyone staring at you? They should be concerned about their own strategy. Akari turned her chair to talk to you before the next class, but stopped to look at the students around the two of you. No one dared to whisper in the intense silence. You wondered if Akari felt the heat radiating through the room like you did.

The tension got boring. When nothing happened right away, you picked up your bookbag to prepare for the next class. You flipped through the folders until you were interrupted by Akari tapping your desk rapidly for your attention. Humming in acknowledgement, you grabbed the next folder and sat up. Aizawa was by your desk. You glanced at Akari, who gave you her look that said “I don’t know what’s going on”, then back at Aizawa. He looked down on you with unrivaled intensity.

Aizawa, the boy with the rare ability to cancel other’s quirks with sight alone–what did he want from you? “I’m going to beat you in the Sports Festival,” he challenged you. It’s strange he felt the need to do that; whether coincidence or by design, he’s usually your opponent during training.

Quirk-wise, he won the lottery. He was the most annoying person you’ve trained with in class. Not just because the teachers rarely let you go against anyone else. His quirk disregarded the prepwork you did before training to improve your quirk! Maybe YOUR physical training put you ahead of the game, but being paired with Aizawa all the time– and you mean ALL. THE. TIME–does nothing for you. It stalled your progress. It wasn’t fair. Everyone else gets to practice with their quirk, they get to have teachers give them pointers to improve their technique. But guess what? Most of these idiots can't punch correctly!

It’s clear the frustration wasn’t one-sided either. Aizawa never talked about it to you, or anyone in class, but before every challenge your spine sparked, after everything was done, his restless upset lingered. His combat was unpolished. Aizawa can take your strength away, but there’s only so much he can do against someone with years of formal training.

UA doesn’t include non-quirk-based combat in the curriculum. Observing All Might’s fights told you that much. He relied on his strength and speed instead of any classic fighting style. You should’ve guessed UA didn’t cover brawling, but hey, no one’s perfect.

Despite what other students have said, Aizawa wasn’t hopeless. In fights, he made plans in a snap and constantly tried new strategies to win. Going against him could be more interesting, if it wasn’t a frequent occurrence. Growing up in the hero industry, you had an eye for finding possibilities. Aizawa was a gem. In a world where anything is possible, he could dictate a fight’s terms. An advantage any agency would, and should, invest in. They’d be idiots if they didn’t.

Now though, he was here. Standing in front of you–with his little death glare. Challenging you to the event the whole grade is competing in by default. There was something about having the quietest boy in class show this much—what was it? His words were direct. He forced everyone’s attention on him and you, so contradictory to his usual self.

“Okay,” you shrugged. It wasn’t like you two weren’t competing for the top spot anyway.

“I’m serious.”

You nodded, unsure why he was upset. You accepted his challenge, did he not hear you? You repeated yourself, “okay.”

Aizawa stayed at your desk. His bottom lip pushed out. Was he pouting? “Are you listening to me?”

You shrugged lightly once more and turned your seat his way. “I said "okay ". Did you want something else from me?” An extra surge fizzled through your nerves. Aizawa’s eye twitched. He’s never done that before, you don’t think you’ve had ANYONE do that before. The closest thing was one of your dad’s coworkers–who’d twitch her lip when someone didn’t put the gym equipment away.

“It’s unbelievable how you think you’re better than everyone. You’ve done nothing to earn it.”

‘Done nothing?’

You pushed yourself up from your chair. ‘Done NOTHING.’

The hell does he mean “done nothing”?

You’ve gone above and beyond your whole damn life, but you’ve “done nothing”. In a room full of idiots who have NO fighting technique outside their quirk, YOU’RE the one who’d done nothing?

You scoffed. “I have earned it.” The lightning bolt rattled inside the box looking for how it could run free. Closing the remaining distance, you became aware of how short Aizawa was compared to all the other boys in class. He didn’t move. You leaned closer and squinted at Aizawa’s face. Short and had a baby face to match. It’s like he came straight out of middle school.

Normally standing this close caused most people to become uncomfortable. They’d look away or step back, but Aizawa didn’t break his gaze. He hasn’t once during this whole time. Didn’t he think you were a threat? The lightning bolt knocked against the box again. Why not nudge it open for a little while? Just enough for the boy in front of you.

“Aizawa, last year I was accepted in a hero course in America. This year I was accepted into UA. Both times other students only thought about how ‘cool’ their quirk was, but people who only rely on quirks are lazy and become useless in the field. If you don’t learn other things, you’re an idiot.” After years of training, and practice, and studying. After years of fighting to improve. There was no way in hell idiots should get a gold star because of their quirk. THAT would be doing “nothing”. He of all people should know better.

Staring inky droplets, you waited for his response. In seconds, his eyes widened and started to dart around the room. His breathing became shallow, increasing in speed. This part didn’t happen this quickly, then again, targets usually aren’t face-to-face with you. There was all this room between the desks for him to move away, but he didn’t. Aizawa was petrified.

Something gnawed in your stomach. Telling you it was a mistake, to let it go. Reminding you to not get caught. You shut the lid once more. You’ve scared him enough. Standing upright, you gave him a better chance to speak up. Something to back the big talk from earlier.

Nothing.

You backed off from him, disappointment and restlessness swirled inside you. “I accepted your challenge. Practice your combat and don’t make us look bad, okay?”

Aizawa responded in silence. Whatever he had when he first walked up to you was absent. He sulked to his seat, scowling when both your eyes met. You sat in your chair first, watching as he did the same.

The audience grumbled disappointed the show was over. They broke off into their own chatter about the Sports Festival. You looked ahead, rolling your eyes flippantly at Akari. She chuckled as she dug through her book bag in front of you for one of her notebooks. Any conversation had to wait. The next teacher should show up soon.

“Good morning, everyone,” a tired voice announced at the door. You turned from the back of the room, then trailed up, and up, and up the body of a frightfully thin man, slouching with a broken arm. Despite your own physical state, if you didn’t watch where you were walking you could send him flying into a table. He was a neon sign reminding you to stand tall and keep your shoulders back. In the heavy armor you wore, it’ll make you look stronger than you feel. Just like in those old All Might specials you watched when you were younger, “stand tall, keep your chin high, and show confidence.” The man, easily over seven-foot, paused in place, acknowledging you. Your hand rose from your side to wave–but, this was supposed to be a professional meeting. Wouldn’t a head bow be the polite thing to do?

Before you could do so, he spoke. “Hello, are you here for the meeting too?”

“Yes.”

Mic stepped ahead. “All Might,” your eyes shifted back to the tall man. Crap, that’s All Might? Why is All Might here? “This is my old friend, Miss America, the Queen of Terror, and your Number 1 Fan in middle school–” your head snapped back toward your friend as he rushed that last statement and finished introducing you. “Strife, this is All Might, you know him already.”

All Might continued to smile, extending his unbroken hand for you to shake. You did, not having the heart to say Mic was exaggerating about your fan status. Yeah, you liked All Might, most people do. However, being his “number 1 fan in middle school” meant studying his fights when they came on your radar. Watching interviews to practice your Japanese. Not buying merchandise and knowing every detail about him. The only merch you’ve had for him was maybe two t-shirts gifted to you by one of your instructors growing up. In spite of still liking All Might as an adult, you’ve since come to the conclusion you’d never actually want to meet him in-person.

“What part of America are you from,” All Might asked in english.

You took your hand back, not expecting him to continue with his own conversation. “I moved around a lot, so almost everywhere?” Switching back to english-mode was easier than stumbling through casual Japanese. All Might must’ve sensed it somehow and decided to save himself the headache.

“Even in California?”

“Mostly for work, but I know Los Angeles loves you.” If you pulled up the news feed in America, there’d be several articles about LA’s celebration of All Might’s last fight. You couldn’t imagine being in his place– forced into retirement. Reminding him about the love he has back in the States would be a nice gesture, you thought.

“That’s good to know,” he responded. The man standing before you didn’t look like the hero you remembered, but his voice held sincerity. You understand why people were at ease around him.

Y’know, Strife went to school here because of you. She was in the same class as Aizawa and I,” Mic said, also in english

“Really,” All Might was taken aback. Whether it was because he forgot popular heroes tend to inspire people to go to certain schools or because of Mic’s general behavior, you weren’t too sure. Mic did say you should work here. It’s like he wanted to introduce you to as much staff as possible, including the hero who inspired you to go to a different country, so you’ll be convinced to stay here. ”How’d you like it?”

Memories snapped together in your brain. A blinding window in the principal’s office. Piles of rubble you dug through. A pro chasing you in the woods— Hizashi started to fidget and laugh beside you nervously. Not the best things to remember about your school. You gave the white walls of the room a once over. Black fabric held your attention. ‘Training was fun.’ Eating on the roof was great—when you got over how tall the school building was. Getting your hero license was still one of the best days of your life. Just when you started thinking of the good times, a man–wearing a uniform similar to your old one, came into the room. He did a double-take, his eyes hardened into a glare, his underbite became more pronounced. Eyes burned into your back. When you glanced behind you, Aizawa already looked away. “I learned a lot,” you said making eye contact with All Might.

This guy with the underbite didn’t say a word as he walked behind All Might. He watched you as he lumbered to his chair at the center table of the ‘U’ formation—between Snipe and Aizawa. Aizawa glanced up from the folders to the other man. The man with the underbite nodded to him. Were they colleagues for a long time? Were they friends?

Shaking the thought, you refreshed your smile toward All Might. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do considering who he is. “It was definitely… an experience,” you chuckled.

“I’m sure we can talk about specifics during another time,” Mic jumped in. He’d have more stories to share than you would, and he’d relish the opportunity. It was for the best. What you remembered from high school was limited. Since graduation, a lot happened. There was always something. It didn’t help that your memories were typically sinkholes. It was usually up to your conversations with Hizashi and Nemuri to fill in the blanks when it came to your teenage years and some of your early twenties.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” said All Might. He wished you luck in the meeting before he went to his seat at Midnight’s table. With the arrival of underbite guy, the entire roster showed up. The principal walked to the front of the room as Mic shook your shoulder for luck and went to his own seat by Aizawa. Aizawa stacked the folders and pushed them to the edge of his table, closer to the man with the underbite.

Underbite man continued sizing you up. Aizawa stared you down as well. You widened your stance, daring either of them to speak, but nothing came. The men shifted their attention to their boss.

Pain and hunger paused as the meeting rapidly approached.

What would Aizawa have in those folders, you wondered. He was reading those in the hallway and he went into the meeting room after the principal. Did Nezu know what was inside? Was it something Aizawa had against you? If you went over there, you could swipe one and see what he has; but it’s too late.

Nezu’s in front of the room. “I want to thank you all for taking the time, early this morning, to have this meeting—” No plan that involved getting close to Aizawa would work now. If you planned ahead, you could’ve done something in the hallway. Aizawa’s attention left Nezu and went to you. Frantically, you darted your eyes to the back corner of the other side of the room. Yes, because that doesn’t look suspicious at all. “–current events and the changes in the school’s security, I want the decision to be made by you, my most trusted staff.” Aizawa totally noticed you staring at his folder! “I know the six of you will make a fair decision.”

Like hell this was going to be fair, you thought. Aizawa has a folder with—

‘With what, exactly,’ you questioned. ‘What evidence could Aizawa physically have against you?’

Your breathing slowed and the walls of the room collapsed away into void. Hizashi and Nemuri are here. You met All Might and it was ok, in spite of any reservations you had. You were being ridiculous.

Right?

Any dirt Aizawa had on you would show dirt on his own hands. If he wanted you gone, he’d have to rely on present examples or poke through your arguments. So far he had access to neither. Apart from that, you’ve been to countless meetings.

“Strife,” Principal Nezu said.

The walls reformed around you as you acknowledged him. Heat pooled behind your neck as you looked at the people that will decide your luck on the investigation. “You have the floor.” The principal walked to his seat, by the edge of Nemuri’s table, where a notepad was set. Mic gave you a small thumbs up with the hand that rested by the edge of his table. You nodded, doing a discreet thumbs up of your own with your left hand to your thigh.

You grinned politely, making sure to thank the principal for the introduction. Showing you have good manners could sway the faculty by showing you weren’t a horrible dungeon troll. “And thank you all for your time, as well. As said before, I’m Pro-Hero Strife. I’m in Japan for a mission. I understand UA had some challenges in these past months and now is a critical time. With this in mind, I want to do my mission quietly. If you would do the favor of allowing me to do research here, I'd appreciate it greatly.” You made sure to look at everyone in the room, even at the two scowling men.

Aizawa had his arms crossed, unconvinced of the introduction you pulled out of your ass. Because, of course, he’d remember you are a horrible dungeon troll. You’re ready for him to speak out, but his partner took initiative.

“It’d be easier to make a decision if we got more details for your mission.” Underbite guy’s demanding tone almost made you break character. No objections came as to how the guy spoke to you. Of course, he couldn’t be the silent, suspicious type. Someone here had to be the ‘brash’ one, just like your ex-boss from the old agency.

You continued to smile like you were taught. “That’s fair,” the arrangement looked riskier on their end. They couldn’t accept the agreement blindly. Sharing a few details could win their trust. “I’m looking for someone. A Pro-Hero by the name “Aegis”, her legal name is Kaneko Akari.”

“KANEKO?” You flinched at Mic’s outburst. Eyes bounced to him as the sunglasses hung from his face and his jaw hit the floor. You forgot about how over the top his reactions were in-person. “This meeting’s about HER?”

Question marks filled the room. Aizawa continued his cold stare. The other guy held skepticism in his features. Particularly in the way he furrowed his brow as shown by the curves on his mask. Now that you really looked at it, an orange mask was such an odd choice for his uniform! His outfit is red, black and white, making the orange way too much. Maybe if he wore a visor instead it would add more variety in the texture and have a practical use—

Poor design choices aside– not preparing Mic ahead of time deducted points from your favor— you had to focus! You didn’t know if the staff knew Mic set this meeting in motion for you. But his reaction says you told him something and didn’t bother with full details. It makes both of you look bad. There’s no spinning this observation without pinning the blame on Mic. You’ll just have to take the hit and see if you can make up for it somewhere else.

“That name sounds familiar, " Midnight commented with slightly furrowed brows. Those words made you ready to jump. If Mic’s shock wasn’t a reflection of what you didn’t tell him, you can correct this misstep. Like if there was information, the type the media hasn’t released yet. “Wasn’t she in your class?”

Disappointment washed over you. If she wasn’t told anything confidential, then there was no news. You shouldn’t be surprised Midnight didn’t know much about Aegis. In school, Nemuri met Akari once, off the top of your head. They didn’t interact after. After all, Akari was shy, Nemuri was… not.

“Yeah, she was.” Mic answered as you swallowed your disappointment. “Aegis has been ranking higher on the popularity polls for the past few years. Unexpected, considering her whole brand revolves around her fights. She doesn’t do much press events or interviews. Other than that, she’s a complete hermit!” Mic swung his arms out, nearly decking Aizawa, and leaned into his chair, making it drift backward. Aizawa scowled at him. “What do you need with that weirdo anyway,” he asked, pulling himself back to the table.

Unlike when you spoke to him in the hallway, you took a moment to think about what to say exactly. Irritation was weaved throughout his response. Whether he was upset with you, or if he was annoyed at the mention of Akari was unclear. But you knew when this was over, no matter the result, he’d tell you everything.

You staggered for words, but only found broken porcelain and glass. A sickening crack. High pitched shattering then soft thumps of the pieces hitting the ground like rain. The blood oozed from Akari’s mouth as she left you with a cryptic message. One you weren’t sure you translated right when you were actively bleeding onto the carpet. “Kaneko got into trouble while she was in the States. The current charges include: multiple counts of vandalism, aggravated assault, breaking and entering, and arson. I have to find her and bring her back.” You’d never admit this outloud, but you were surprised you remembered how to say all those crimes as well as you did. Meanwhile, the teachers picture-posed like mannequins. Principal Nezu held his pen against the paper for a moment, then scribbled ferociously.

“Those are serious accusations,” Snipe said. “Are you sure she did all this?”

“Yes.” You strolled over to your briefcase, bracing to pick it up “normally”. Your jaw clenched until your face was in the faculty’s view again. You stood with it by Mic offering a quick “excuse me”. He responded by gesturing ‘go ahead’. Setting the briefcase onto the table, you pulled one of the five disks out, along with a tiny remote, before shutting and shoving it under the table.

“There are pictures of Aegis entering and leaving the location.” Going back to the center of the room you held the button on the disk. When it blinked blue, you dropped it while pressing the remote’s top button for the hologram to appear. When you pressed the next button, four images of Akari post-fight walking away from the hotel room, labeled and dated, alongside an image of her in uniform taken from a news article. The faculty reacted accordingly. The only exasperation you processed was “it’s really Kaneko” from the table behind you. In the top right picture, Akari held her overnight bag close to her body like she would a shield. Right arm going across to help her carry the weight from the camera’s point of view.

You pressed the button again to transition to the next set of images. The hotel room. Two beds, one with a busted frame. A shattered window. Glass. Porcelain. Splinters. Splashed all over the floor like water. Then the splatters of dried blood in more places than you remembered.

“This is where the assault took place,” All Might asked in awe of the destruction.

You confirmed, glass shattering in the back of your mind.

“It’s hard to believe a hero would go to another country to swap sides,” commented Snipe.

“Aegis isn’t being charged as a villain,” you corrected. “There’s no evidence she used her quirk, these are criminal charges.”

“These claims can cost a Pro their career without proper evidence.” Underbite responded. You didn’t like the way he said it. It wasn’t an exasperated comment, made in the shock of a Pro Hero throwing their like away overseas. The way it sounds, and the way he was looking at you as he said it, it sounded like an accusation.

He didn’t believe you.

“With her rise in popularity, there’ll be an uproar regardless if the charges are made public. Especially now with the current condition of hero society,” All Might’s words drifted off. His hand met his chin. Pondering about the power vacuum his retirement is leaving behind, no doubt. If not, then he’s thinking of the scrutiny UA has been facing due to the villain attacks. Based on what Akari had brought up with that so-called “Hero Killer”, there’s been discourse on the idea of a “true hero” these past couple months. Combining all three concepts together painted an ugly picture explaining why you go to Japan’s Hero Commision. Who knows what they’d do with the current facts of this case if they find out.

“Popularity be damned! A criminal’s a criminal, a crime's a crime,” Mic bursted out. “That’s clearly Aegis, let’s just let Strife investigate here already!”

“It’s not that simple, Mic,” Midnight countered. “Even if there is evidence Aegis committed those crimes, that’s not the topic of the meeting. We need to think of the students before we let any hero investigate on school grounds. Think about it, there’s a reason why we don’t bring our investigations here as teachers.”

“Confidentiality is a big one. At least with the hero-side of our profession,” Snipe added. “On the teacher-side—even if there isn’t a rule against it, having a student see our cases runs the risk of them telling others, making them panic. Strife being here solely for an investigation does the same thing.” He had a point, you wouldn’t be confined to the school’s basement if they let you research here. The investigation required you to come in and out of the building to follow leads. With hundreds of students in the same area, they’re bound to notice you around. “Tensions are high with the students as it is.”

But you could be careful–

“They’ll know she doesn’t belong here in seconds,” the soon-to-be world's third most grating voice reached your ears.

Your eyes whipped to Midnight’s side of the room and looked at the wall behind her and Nezu. ‘Deep breaths,’ you told yourself. If you made eye contact with Underbite now, end badly. For you. ‘Deep. Breaths.’ The Principal didn’t look up from his notes, Midnight had her head cocked toward the center table with narrowed eyes.

“C’mon, Vlad, give her credit! Strife graduated here, she’s a Pro, and she can keep a mission on the DL,” Mic argued coolly.

“Of course, you would say that. You were in her corner before you knew why she was here. This is a critical time, do we really need anyone bringing more problems around this school?”

‘Breathe in. Breathe out.’

“Alright, let’s calm down,” All Might spoke up. His calm voice relaxed you enough to stop your inner commands. “Who’s to say it’ll cause problems? We don’t know what her investigation looks like yet.” All Might ended his statement looking at you.

You bowed your head ready to grab his gift, this opportunity he gave you, and run. “Outside myself, she had no contact with anyone in the States. On the first day of her disappearance, no one in the agency could find her. One of my coworkers found the postcard she left behind implied she was heading here. She doesn’t have contact with anyone in the States, but me. Japan is different. I need to learn about the people Aegis talks to regularly. Mic said she didn’t do interviews often, meaning I must look deeper. I know UA has records of Alumni, I think those records will be the most helpful.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, ‘what now,’ you thought. So far, he was a mix between your old boss, the Medic, and your blank-eyed homeroom teacher with the way he’s testing your patience. We’re just going to hand over confidential files because you say so?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Vlad,” Mic asked, getting equally annoyed as you. Even Aizawa’s side-eyeing him for being as subtle as a freight train.

“I mean ‘I don’t trust this woman’,” Vlad responded. He gestured toward your direction. “For all we know, this is an old crime scene!”

“What are you talking about,” Mic asked.

Vlad pointed at you. “This woman has no business being around our students!”

“Excuse me,” you said without thinking.

“Don’t act innocent. I know you have a history of manipulating people,” Vlad argued. He was the one starting problems! You wanted to argue back, but the principal was watching. Holding your tongue you glance around the room. You paused looking at the folders on Aizawa’s table. Aizawa watched you while Vlad accused you. Despite his insistence of knowing why you were here, he hasn’t said a thing since the meeting started. It was Vlad. They nodded to each other when they saw each other– Vlad knew what was inside those folders.

What the hell did Aizawa have on you?

An aggravated sigh left Aizawa. He rolled his chair back toward the wall as Mic and Vlad argued. It was the type of sigh you would let out when a new grad didn’t know a proper fighting stance—one that didn’t get them punched in the face. You clenched your left hand, ready to fight back against anything Aizawa had to say. He looked at the two men. “You need to calm down.” He turned to an irritated Vlad, who was as shocked as you were right now. “This is about the camp incident?”

Vlad cocked his head at Aizawa— like he was asking the same thing you were. What does the villain attack have to do with this?

“Our teachers resolved that years ago.” You took a step back. He wasn’t talking about the villain attack. But what did he mean by ‘our teachers’, Vlad wasn’t a student here. “Everyone panicked because a pro hero had unchecked anger issues and shouldn’t have been left alone with the students. The teachers at the time said everyone overreacted because of the heat,” Aizawa explained; he used the same rehearsed story. “It was fifteen years ago, we all moved on.”

But why?

Vlad squinted at him in disbelief. “And what about the fights?” Red alarm lights went off. No one outside the school was supposed to know about those. Vlad was a student here!

“Fights?” Aizawa’s brows furrowed. He turned to Midnight, who looked down tracing her nail along the table’s surface. Then at Mic, who took to inspecting your briefcase underneath the table for quality.

“We resolved those as well,” Principal Nezu declared. Tension left your shoulders thinking about the office window. How the setting sun shone through your eyelids as you stared below the desk, picking at a loose string that used to hold a gold button in place. The only memory you have of that day was when he said: ‘This is the last chance I’m giving you, you must make better decisions.’ “Vlad, if you have a relevant point, say it before we move on.”

Vlad took a deep breath of his own. “I’m sorry for getting worked up, Nezu,” he sat down. You rolled your eyes, noting how he didn’t apologize for his behavior toward you. “I wanted to point this out as a pattern of behavior. Aizawa said the Pro Hero who watched over us had no reason being around students. I’m saying the same thing about Strife.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, but Strife’s conduct during this meeting has been stellar. She had more patience than even I thought possible.” Nezu’s words made your head spin. You wanted to accept the compliment, but what did he expect you to act like? Did he think you'd punch Vlad in the neck? C’mon, you were a crappy teenager, but you wouldn’t have done that!

Vlad’s face scrunched up. He wanted to argue, but was holding back. Acting hostile toward you, whether it was his intent or not, worked in your favor. If he didn’t want you to stick around, he couldn’t rely on the past. To everyone else, anything you did prior to graduation was a long-rusted hatchet.

Nezu asked if anyone had any other concerns before getting on with the meeting. The teachers looked amongst themselves, a few shaking their heads.

“I do.” Aizawa’s eyes pierced through you expectantly as he leaned closer to the table. The last thing you said to him during your little reunion. You were supposed to tell him why you’re here, and he’s not satisfied. There’s no walking away this time.

He did you a favor, it’s your turn to pay up.

“How did you get this case?”

“Kaneko visited me at my agency out of nowhere. I was working on a mission with a team when she arrived. She saw the agency was behind, crime has been getting worse these past few months, and she offered her help. The boss approved and she was added on to the mission. When we were done, we went to a hotel and this happened,” you gestured at the holographic images of the disaster zone. “I don’t know why she did this, but I know this wasn’t planned.”

“How,” asked Aizawa, still not pleased.

“She committed her crimes before she got paid. Boss told her she’d get the check the day after the mission finished because the money needed to be decided.” She hit you in the back of your head while you were looking for the commission paper. The mission was difficult. No smart or sane person would do it for free. “I have to find her– if Kaneko committed these crimes on her own, she has to pay.”

“You have a personal stake in this,” All Might realized.

You sighed looking at your boots. You knew this would come up. “If I said I didn’t, it’d be a lie. Kaneko showed up, I invited her in, and now I have to fix the problem. Without the history, in my agency I’m the only hero qualified to come here and bring her back. The Boss said my background made me the best option.”

“In the hallway, you said that your investigation should take less than two weeks,” Midnight said, lacing her fingers together on the desk. “During that time, the only students that must be in the school are in the first year hero course.”

“We already said, she can’t go in and out of campus without suspicion. How do you think that’s going to work with the first years after a villain attack,” Vlad asked. Midnight fumed in response, making him back off.

Before you could respond, Aizawa spoke up. “What he means to say is our classes are training to get their hero licenses soon. They need to focus. If you’re around with no explanation, you’ll be a distraction.”

The cogs turned in their place as you realized who you were speaking to right now. Your smile came back. “That’s right, Mic told me about that!” If all you needed was an explanation… the deal wrote itself. If Aizawa wanted you gone before, you had to give him something to reconsider. “I could help with the exam.”

“Is that so,” asked the Principal.

“I’ve judged sixteen American licensing exams and I’ve mentored younger heroes at my agency. Mic said I was qualified to work here.” Mic agreed enthusiastically, Midnight doubled-down on the notion saying she could verify the information. Most importantly, what you said captured Aizawa’s attention.

“And you have time to do this during your investigation?” Nezu asked.

“I’ll make time.” Nezu seemed pleased with the answer and he started writing something in his notepad. That’s when you remembered what he said earlier. The principal wasn’t making the final decision. You sauntered closer to the homeroom teachers. “Eraser, we were in the same class. You know I do great work. I’m sure you’re doing fine on your own, but if you let me do my research here, your students will excel in the exams. I’ll make sure of it.”

Aizawa considered your offer. Regardless of whatever you two had, you two will never be friends like you used to. Both of you destroyed that bridge and the foundation withered to dust. It didn’t matter if you two hated each other now or not. You could be professional. You could play nice. Sentiment would never work on him. Aizawa needed a logical choice.

“Fine with me,” Aizawa huffed.

The grin on your face got bigger.

Behind you the Principal asks for Vlad’s opinion. “If Aizawa wants Strife as an advisor that’s on him, but I'll stand by what I said earlier. If I’m not around, I don’t want her around my students.” You knew that was coming, but he didn’t matter. Soon after he spoke, the teachers put your investigation’s approval to a vote. When the result was clear Nezu spoke up. “Well then, it looks like Strife’s first day as Provisional License Advisor starts today.”

Taglist:

@lonelyghosts-stuff

#I didn’t do it on purpose #I miss my dudes :(#mha aizawa #mha present mic #aizawa shota x reader #present mic x reader

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

Text

Retrospective - Chapter 3: Square One

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Today was the day. You couldn’t misunderstand or forget a single word he said.

This moment was your career, your life. It was the CRUCIAL event of debuting your early hero career; and the whole world was going to see.

“Okay,” you shrugged. It wasn’t like you two weren’t competing for the top spot anyway.

“I’m serious.”

You nodded, unsure why he was upset. You accepted his challenge, did he not hear you? You repeated yourself, “okay.”

Aizawa stayed at your desk. His bottom lip pushed out. Was he pouting? “Are you listening to me?”

“It’s unbelievable how you think you’re better than everyone. You’ve done nothing to earn it.”

‘Done nothing?’

You pushed yourself up from your chair. ‘Done NOTHING.’

The hell does he mean “done nothing”?

Nothing.

You backed off from him, disappointment and restlessness swirled inside you. “I accepted your challenge. Practice your combat and don’t make us look bad, okay?”

Before you could do so, he spoke. “Hello, are you here for the meeting too?”

“Yes.”

“What part of America are you from,” All Might asked in english.

“Even in California?”

“That’s good to know,” he responded. The man standing before you didn’t look like the hero you remembered, but his voice held sincerity. You understand why people were at ease around him.

Y’know, Strife went to school here because of you. She was in the same class as Aizawa and I,” Mic said, also in english

Shaking the thought, you refreshed your smile toward All Might. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do considering who he is. “It was definitely… an experience,” you chuckled.

Underbite man continued sizing you up. Aizawa stared you down as well. You widened your stance, daring either of them to speak, but nothing came. The men shifted their attention to their boss.

Pain and hunger paused as the meeting rapidly approached.

Like hell this was going to be fair, you thought. Aizawa has a folder with—

‘With what, exactly,’ you questioned. ‘What evidence could Aizawa physically have against you?’

Right?

“Strife,” Principal Nezu said.

“Those are serious accusations,” Snipe said. “Are you sure she did all this?”

“This is where the assault took place,” All Might asked in awe of the destruction.

You confirmed, glass shattering in the back of your mind.

“It’s hard to believe a hero would go to another country to swap sides,” commented Snipe.

“Aegis isn’t being charged as a villain,” you corrected. “There’s no evidence she used her quirk, these are criminal charges.”

He didn’t believe you.

“Popularity be damned! A criminal’s a criminal, a crime's a crime,” Mic bursted out. “That’s clearly Aegis, let’s just let Strife investigate here already!”

But you could be careful–

“They’ll know she doesn’t belong here in seconds,” the soon-to-be world's third most grating voice reached your ears.

“C’mon, Vlad, give her credit! Strife graduated here, she’s a Pro, and she can keep a mission on the DL,” Mic argued coolly.

“Of course, you would say that. You were in her corner before you knew why she was here. This is a critical time, do we really need anyone bringing more problems around this school?”

‘Breathe in. Breathe out.’

“What’s that supposed to mean, Vlad,” Mic asked, getting equally annoyed as you. Even Aizawa’s side-eyeing him for being as subtle as a freight train.

“I mean ‘I don’t trust this woman’,” Vlad responded. He gestured toward your direction. “For all we know, this is an old crime scene!”

“What are you talking about,” Mic asked.

Vlad pointed at you. “This woman has no business being around our students!”

“Excuse me,” you said without thinking.

What the hell did Aizawa have on you?

Vlad cocked his head at Aizawa— like he was asking the same thing you were. What does the villain attack have to do with this?

But why?

Vlad squinted at him in disbelief. “And what about the fights?” Red alarm lights went off. No one outside the school was supposed to know about those. Vlad was a student here!

Nezu asked if anyone had any other concerns before getting on with the meeting. The teachers looked amongst themselves, a few shaking their heads.

He did you a favor, it’s your turn to pay up.

“How did you get this case?”

“How,” asked Aizawa, still not pleased.

“You have a personal stake in this,” All Might realized.

“Is that so,” asked the Principal.

“And you have time to do this during your investigation?” Nezu asked.

“Fine with me,” Eraser huffed.

The grin on your face got bigger.

Taglist:

@lonelyghosts-stuff

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #retrospective by dot #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you

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circledotdestroy · 2 months

Text

This was such a comfy read 💕💕

Trimmed

ONE-SHOT | MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!Reader • Words: 1,6 K

Summary: A haircut tale

Tags: slice-of-life, cute, fluffy, romantic stuff

CW: none worth mentioning. SFW

The apartment was cloaked in the cozy ambiance of evening, the soft glow of lamps casting warm pockets of light in the living room. As the door creaked open, announcing Aizawa's return, the air seemed to shift with expectancy.

It wasn't the kind of anticipation that made a person’s heart leap. Instead it felt more like the sort of expectation that came from people waiting for their loved ones to get home at regular basis for weeks on end, filled with both excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside.

Even after years of marriage, you still had butterflies for him whenever he entered the room you were in.

"I'm back," Aizawa's gravelly, deep voice resonated through the space, carrying the weight of a taxing day. He unburdened himself of his shoes and bag, the fatigue etched on his features. The journey down the building's hallway felt like a gradual shedding of the day's strain.

"Hey, Sho, welcome back!" You called from the kitchen, your voice a gentle melody amid the quiet that once reigned in the place. "Long day?" You asked, your eyes landing on his tense figure.

He nodded, pausing at the kitchen's doorway before offering a small smile. "Yeah, you could say that."

The smell of cooking food wafted towards him as his gaze swept over the room. The counter was covered in various ingredients, some in the middle of the cooking process and others just sitting there in piles, ready to be added to the mix when needed.

"Did everything go well today?" You asked, turning around from the stove to greet him properly with a kiss on the cheek. He returned it affectionately, leaning against your body for comfort and security, but only for the briefest moments before pulling back to take a look at you.

"Yep," he responded, the same way he always did every time. He was never one for long talks or unnecessary details about his day, preferring instead to focus his attention on how you were doing instead.

"How are you feeling today? Anything interesting happened while I was gone?" He questioned, reluctantly pulling away from your welcoming embrace to remove his binding cloth from around his neck.

"I'm feeling alright." You answered truthfully before proceeding with a small shrug. "And not really. The highest point of my day was going grocery shopping. It was a tiring work though, so I didn't do much after that."

"Ah, right," the hero nodded knowingly, his cloth now hanging around one of his arms. "Next time you go grocery shopping, remember that I have to be there too." Aizawa reached out his free arm and gently pulled you into another tight hug.

Your arms wrapped around his torso in return, your face pressed against his chest. "And put even more tasks on your overly busy day? No way." Your tone was playful, but there was an undertone of concern that Aizawa picked up on instantly.

"If anything, I should be the one getting all the chores done on this end, since you're not here as much as I am. I don't want you working yourself too hard," you protested.

His head rested on top of yours, his hair tickling your skin lightly. "Still, I'd rather it be me than you," he said firmly. "Besides, it makes me feel bad knowing I'm making it so hard on you due to my workload."

You sighed fondly. "You know I wouldn't mind helping out if I could." You stated, hoping to make it clear to him that you didn't mind. But there was nothing else you could say to change his mind, so you simply agreed with him with a small pout.

You carefully untangled yourself from his tight but gentle grip, searching for his eyes. "C'mon, sexy, go wash off the sweat and dirt that's clinging to your face. Dinner is gonna be ready soon," you told him with a soft voice.

He let out a tiny chuckle before walking towards the bathroom, a fond, small smile adorning his lips. You smiled at the warm feeling in your chest, and then went back to your cooking, the sound of running water following shortly thereafter.

As he retreated to the bathroom, a cascade of garments left in his wake, and the warmth of the shower soothed his sore muscles as he rinsed away the dust that had accumulated during his arduous workday.

Shower felt even better than normal after a tiring and long day, and his shoulders loosened as he stepped under the steaming showerhead.

He had his eyes closed and his mouth partially open as he used it to breathe while the water poured over his head, rinsing the shampoo away from his scalp. It was an intimate and vulnerable moment. It was also calming.

After cleaning himself up, he stepped out to dry his body and get dressed in his sleepwear – a pair of loose pants and a simple t-shirt.

Upon checking to make sure everything was alright with his appearance, Aizawa stared at his reflection in the slightly fogged-up mirror. His gaze lingered on the unruly curtain of long bangs that veiled his eyes, now being an unintended consequence of neglect amid the demands of his work.

The weariness etched in his features was momentarily eclipsed by a bemused frown. Aizawa ran his fingers through the disheveled and damp strands, a silent acknowledgment of the overdue task at hand.

He brushed his hair, aware of how his bangs were almost reaching his chin. Putting the hairbrush down, he tried his best to comb them again with his fingers, trying to make his hair less wild and disorderly.

After a few minutes of struggling, he sighed exasperatedly, giving up his attempts. What good would a couple of extra combing do him anyway? It was getting too long. It was bound to become an issue sooner or later.

In defeat, Aizawa emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulders, his usually unkempt hair dripping slightly. He stood in the doorway again, gazing at you with a hint of weariness.

"Is dinner almost ready?" He inquired, his eyes flicking towards the culinary ballet that persisted while he was in the shower.

You glanced over your shoulder, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Almost. Just finishing up. Why? Hungry?"

He scratched the back of his head, a familiar gesture of contemplation. "Not just that," he admitted, his gaze turning to the bathroom's door for a moment. "I think it's time I did something about this." His hand gestured towards the curtain of his disheveled bangs.

Your eyes followed the unspoken cue, understanding what he meant. Setting down the spatula, you approached him, your fingers lightly grazing the strands that shielded his eyes.

"Want me to do something about it?" You asked, your tone teasing yet sincere. Aizawa's eyes met yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you, and he muttered. "If you don't mind."

You tiptoed, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek, and smiled. "Don't be shy," you murmured. With a gentle gesture, you guided him to a chair at the kitchen table, the aroma of the cooking dinner enveloping both of you.

As he sat down, you walked over to the bathroom, searching for a comb and for the box that held secure your sharp hair scissors.

"Ready for a change?" You teased, after coming back to the kitchen and getting closer to where he sat, standing in front of him. Your fingers ran softly through his damp hair.

Aizawa huffed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Just don't cut it too short, please. I like it longer."

The corners of your mouth quirked slightly, and you nodded in response, combing his hair in a bun before tying a elastic around it, securing the bun as a temporary fix to prevent his locks from getting in the dangerous way of the scissors.

As you moved on to combing his fringe next, you noticed Aizawa closing his eyes, the tension in his frame gradually decreasing. The sight warmed your heart, and the peaceful atmosphere settled around you as you focused on combing his hair, gently moving the comb through his bangs, careful not to damage it.

You gently lifted his chin to get a better look, and after a minute or two of gentle combing, your hand finally stopped its motion to reach for the scissors you had placed on the table. "Don't move now, okay?" You whispered gently, the words accompanied by a gentle touch to his head.

"Mhm," Aizawa hummed softly in agreement. He kept his eyes closed and continued motionless, the tactile sensation of hair falling gently through your hand heightened the intimacy of the moment.

He finally allowed himself to relax under your touch. The occasional snip of the shears resonated like a quiet melody, punctuating the soothing ambiance.

"You're surprisingly good at this," Aizawa remarked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You chuckled. "I've had some practice. Plus, it's a small way to take care of you."

He hummed once again, his hands resting loosely on top of his lap, now completely relaxed.

You carefully trimmed away the last remaining locks of hair, brushing his hair until only half the mess remained.

After taking a small step back from your handy work, you admired it. "Done. I didn't cut it too much. It'll still keep its fluffy quality, don't worry."

Aizawa opened his eyes and gazed up to meet yours, and his eyes softened, his expression becoming more serene by the second.

Taking the scissors from your hand and placing them back on the table, he grabbed your other hand into his, pulling it towards his lips in a gentle hold. He placed a kiss on the back of your hand. "Thank you. That was very kind of you."

You shook your head, smiling in amusement. "No need to thank me, love. We both know I'd help you with whatever you needed even without you saying anything. You deserve to be taken care of every once in awhile." You squeezed his hand slightly as he leaned forward, pressing another chaste kiss onto your knuckles, his stubble tickling the soft skin of your fingers.

After pulling away from touching your hands, he stood up, a gentle smile on his face. "Let's finish up with dinner," he said, ready to assist you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

#aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x reader #fanfic rec

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circledotdestroy · 3 months

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Saw your bio pinned post that you never finished the show because you lost your subscription. You can check out aniwave.to with an ad blocker and watch pretty much any anime on there for free. That's where I watched the whole series.

Thank you so much! I actually lost my subscription as I was rewatching the series again so this was convenient timing 😆

I’m also thinking of reading the manga online, since I heard some things were changed or left out. I’ll definitely check it out!

#answering the box #thank you anon

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circledotdestroy · 3 months

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Retrospective - Chapter 2: The Insult of Injury

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. While I was gone I got my first big girl job and my beta reader has been having trouble with her computer, so I had to obsess over the prose by myself. In the end, i had to split my planned second chapter in two because it was almost 10k, so that's fun. Also, I uploaded this fic to Ao3 and I added the tag "Autistic Shouta Aizawa" and I'm the first one to tag that in an X Reader Fic??? I thought it was a popular headcanon lol Anyway, you've waited long enough. I hope you enjoy!

Head hung over porcelain, gloved hands gripped onto the sink. A giant hammer banged against your skull from the inside leaving sparks in its wake. Neurons like shooting stars lived behind your eyes. “Sparks…” You gulped back nausea.

Murky puddles of colors blurred together. Light blue stalls behind you, slightly opened, but empty. A massive void leered through the mirror with slivers of red. Hunched, panting over the counter. Burning wounds spreading out, conquering the rest of your cold skin. Not so different from the last time you needed a healing quirk. Cold, clammy, and disgustingly pitiful in one of the dark backrooms of your agency–because doing paperwork was better than being by your lonesome with nothing. The main difference this time around was the mortification that came with breaking down in a high school bathroom.

You were going to smack Akari for what she put you through.

The thought stabilized your shaky breath. You straightened your body, your hands still grasping the counter. The pressure released from the stab wound. It steadied you and you were grateful.

The last thing you needed to add on this little business trip was a reunion with Recovery Girl. She had first-hand encounters of your nonsense. Dealing with the aftermath of you being a menace to society— or “younger” if someone wanted to be polite—more times then you can count. You went to her office a lot–sometimes for yourself. Sometimes. It didn’t matter if you started more “advanced” in your class, you weren’t immune to scraps, bruises, or the occasional slip up during training. Other times, it was for other classmates. Some you sent her way after battle trials, but other times you popped in to take supplies then ran out.

One time you asked when she was going to retire, she said whatever the Japanese equivalent was for “until I croak”. That was after she threatened you with her cane, but you laughed it off like the cocky child you were. You thought even if she could land a hit, it wouldn’t hurt that bad. After all this time, it’d be disappointing to tell her you got in a fight and lost at your big age. Maybe she’ll try hitting you with her cane again, you thought. She’d have an easier time now.

But no. Dealing with the effects of one healing quirk was enough. The risks of getting her involved drowsiness at best, or possible death before the investigation gets shot down at worst. Investigation aside, it’s becoming apparent your healing process isn’t where it’s supposed to be. The itches, the burning… no one is in this bathroom with you, but you’re burning beneath cold skin. Someone who sees you on the street can say: “It’s only been two days! Walking around, catching a flight, that’s a MIRACLE for only two days!”

However, that’s the problem. It’s already been two days. With the healing quirk, you’re supposed to be at least 75%, but you’re not pushing fifty.

Removing your hands from the sink, you brought them to your sides. It was hard to know where one pain starts and where the other ends. Everything burns and your body is compelling you to turn around and throw up nothing. You flexed shaking fingers into fists. Your stomach was turning inward. It’s been a while since you ate. Perhaps you should’ve brought something on your way here. Even if it was stopping at a konbini and picking up one of those stupid-ass nutrition cookies Aizawa used to eat for lunch every day of the week. You swallowed, shaking your head. Food can wait. You can wait three hours. If you eat, you’re going to stay nauseous and dizzy anyway… unless you do something about it.

With a shaking breath, you glanced over your shoulder then at the door. There was no charge down your spine, so no people were close by either. You flexed your hands again, eyes closed, counting your fingers rhythmically. The sparks died down. The pain became more discernible. Abdomen still fresh and oven-hot. Knuckles chaffed, raw, and bruised. Your legs: thighs sore from jumping during the mission, your left knee ached, and the top side of your right foot was especially tender. Your shoulders, your back, behind your head.

You kept the rhythm until your lungs demanded release. When you exhaled, the pain dwindled. Not completely. Warmth still lied below your skin, at a near simmer. When you opened your eyes though, the blacks and reds weren’t blurred together. They were a clear, albeit crooked mess. You fixed the red arm guards first. When that was done, you had enough energy to fix the rest of your uniform.

Daring to move around, you inspected your fixed outfit further. When it passed inspection, you grabbed your briefcase below the paper towel dispenser to your right. Hitching your breath, you reached for the black handle. Your right leg carried all the weight to avoid setting off a potential mine-field of injury. At first contact, you swung the case on top of the sink then opened it. There were many compartments at the top, one housed a phone the boss gave you, since your old one was collateral damage. There were few numbers inside the cell. Only the ones you thought were most important to include. One of them was for the agency medic, which you cleverly titled as “Medic” to make sure you don’t call more than necessary.

This development with his quirk, unfortunately, was necessary. Rocks filled your stomach. Your mouth feels like you ate gravel. You can hear his reaction to telling him his ‘all powerful quirk’ wasn’t helping like a future sense. He’d make the concussion he diagnosed you with worse if you called.

Wanting to grip the phone harder, you clenched your teeth. This whole thing was stupid. You could’ve kept your guard up. You could’ve stood up, knife be damned, and run after Akari. Stopped her. Asked her what the hell she was talking about— All these choices you could’ve made–all those years of training, and you still got a concussion. Seven minutes passed when you finished typing your little update. It was better to give him a heads up now. It helps against accusations of Akari annihilating your brain cells at the fight.

The next person you contacted was Athena, your Support Expert. It hasn’t been long, but you needed an update on something. Even if it was just your uniform and equipment.

The message itself was quick. Though, you couldn’t help following up by asking if she knew anything about one of the crime scenes. You then thanked her, again. Heaven knows you keep her busy when you need new equipment. During the past two years alone, you’ve asked a lot from her. Whether you needed a new arm guard, gauntlet, or a whole new uniform, she came through every time. It’s hard to get an SE who specializes specifically in power-based quirks. From what you’ve experienced, and heard from other heroes, most SEs don’t appreciate their designs getting decimated. Their creations are children in their eyes. Athena’s creations aren’t as precious in her eyes, by comparison. She has a spreadsheet dedicated to how long until the creations get busted. Keeping up with these records is her research. It changed constantly, telling her what works and when she needs to switch things up.

You should bring her something when all this is over, you thought. She deserved something nice. Something that says “I’m sorry for wrecking all the support items you made me during my missions, you’re the best SE ever!”

The phone went back inside of its compartment, next to the pouch where five hologram disks were held. A surge of panic came through you. Thinking of the horrific scenario of traveling all this way and forgetting essential items for your visit today. You tore open the pouch. Heart in your ears and heat crawling out your back. Two disks were labeled, three were not. “CS1” and “CS2” were in the pouch. Good. You glanced at the other objects in the case, double checking everything was there before you met up with the principal. Folders, notebooks, paperwork, until relief washed over you in a cool wave. Closing the briefcase, running your hand across the leather. Slowing down to trace the broken heart emblem, similar to the one on your breastplate.

Your power won’t get rid of the hammers in your skull, or the itch around stitch wire, but the thick material will prevent you from scratching. Plus, no one else would know about the other bumps and bruises beneath.

You got this.

Leaving the bathroom, you pulled out Hizashi’s instructions one more time. They were less blurry and a bit easier to understand. You may actually have a chance to get out of the maze disguised as your alma mater. Ironically enough, before you could turn the corner, a white rat-bear-dog shorter than a yard-stick— wearing a black vest, blocky, yellow shoes, and had a gangster scar across his eye—came around. “There you are! It really has been a long time,” he greeted, like you’ve seen him before. He didn’t give you time to respond to him, he just explained how he waited at the meeting spot until it occurred to him how long it’s been since you were a student. The principal also made many changes since the time you graduated, which he insisted on showing you. This welcoming gesture forced you to tail him around the floor, instead of simply going to the meeting spot. You didn’t like the idea of walking around, not with that flare up earlier. You were still abnormally sore. But he can’t know that. You squared your shoulders, nodded your head, and quietly marched on.

There weren’t many rooms to make note of. Most of them were regular classrooms. You already saw where the current classroom for 1-A was before you ran into Aizawa. Apparently your old classroom is being used for one of the first year general education courses. The principal asked if you’d like to look inside. You declined the offer politely. At the end of the day, it was just a room. Another room with desks, windows, and a chalkboard in the front. What more did you need to see? You didn’t explain that last part, obviously, and the principal went on talking about other changes around the school.

At one point, he interrupted himself, stopping in front of one of the other doors. This time he didn’t ask you before opening it. “And here is my office.” The principal revealed a room with a giant window behind a desk. The orange light from the rising sun shone through the window casting deep shadows on the office furniture. If you stepped closer, you’d see everything outside the window. The brightness made you queasy. You opted to focus on the gray couch instead. “It looks a little different compared to the last conversation we had here,” he commented.

‘Last conversation,’ you wondered. Then it hit you.

This principal wasn’t new.

Your principal never left UA. How you forgot your principal having a gangster-scar, you weren’t sure. There was no one like him. Absolutely no one that you’ve met.

Muffled words and a shadow in front of a stark blue window came to mind. Paws holding stacks of paper, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Were you supposed to add on to what he said? Were you supposed to apologize? He didn’t look unhappy.

But you could be wrong. Would it be a surprise if this was an act? Taking you on this walk so you’d waste your time telling him everything? You looked to the right and left side of the hallway. If the resources weren’t valuable then you’d walk yourself out first.

The principal didn’t follow up his statement with anything about the past or the future. He closed the door to his voice and rambled his way to nothing. He probably wanted to get a reaction out of you, but you were too confused to give him one.

After a while, the stitches got tighter. And tighter. And your legs were becoming sore. Of course, you clenched your jaw to keep quiet. If he caught on, he’ll send you to Recovery Girl then bye-bye. She hits you with her cane and Nezu could press a button to eject you from the building.

Honestly, where was Hizashi? You knew he was supposed to be busy with work last night, but he said he’d be here for the meeting. It was supposed to start soon and you don’t want to be in a room alone with a passive-aggressive rat-bear-principal. Maybe he was telling Nemuri you were in town.

Or maybe he would try to find Shouta and they could all be talking right now! Aizawa would tell him about you leaving him in the hallway, saying you were rude, demanding to know what’s going on. Aizawa was pushy enough. Hizashi would tell him about how you called him, hurt and asking for help. Despite Hizashi’s best intentions, Aizawa could use this information to raise doubt against you in the meeting. Get rid of you before you become a problem, his problem.

You needed to find Hizashi before that could happen.

As luck would have it, the tour was coming to an end. The last stop led to a blond man leaning against a door down the hall with his arms crossed. A blond man with a punk rock style and a speaker around his neck. A blond that bounced his knee impatiently because he couldn’t bear standing still.

Hizashi!

His head snapped in your direction. He, like a ray of sunshine, grinned ear to ear. “And look here, folks!” Hizashi rushed toward you, “coming out of the cage, ready for her GRAND COMEBACK–” you gripped your briefcase tighter, your eyes wide and almost bouncing, expecting impact. Hizashi pivoted around you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s the Queen of Terror, Pro-Hero STRIFE!”

It’s been over five years since you’ve seen him in person, longer since he’s called you by your hero name. You beamed, he was here. In the same room, not across the world. You thought of hugging him, but stopped when you remembered your old principal was still here.

Hizashi moved closer, leaning into your face without such reservations. The amber reflection of your uniform was in his sunglasses. His hand dragged across your shoulder where the raised mending peaked. He looked toward the principal with his hand on the side of his mouth, like he was trying to tell you a secret. “I was waiting forever,” he fake-scolded, loud enough for the third party to hear.

Glancing at the principal, you saw he was watching the two of you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were blank. You stepped out of Hizashi’s grasp, standing properly. “I had trouble with the directions.”

“What? Getting rusty after being away for so long?” Heat rose to your ears. Of course you were going to be rusty. Did he really have to tease you about it now? “She really knows how to keep her fans at the edge of their seat,” he said to the principal casually, like he wasn’t Hizashi’s boss.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the principal responded, making you aware of the side eye you were giving to your old friend. “I was giving Strife a tour of this floor. After all, I’m proud of the changes I made to UA since your graduating class. I couldn’t resist showing off to one of my former students. Strife has certainly grown from that child I remember.”

Hizashi agreed with your old principle with a joke. “I hope that’s a good thing.” But you know there’s no good way to interpret the statement. Not with what he said when he showed you his office. Who brings up a time where they had to talk with you in a GOOD way? It’s like when your parents brought up how one of your dad’s coworkers caught you sneaking a cookie from the agency's break room when you were supposed to stick to a meal plan. Like, “oh, we sure hope you have better impulse control compared to when you were eight, even if you do, we’re going to reference this story over and over again so you never forget your moral failure!” He’s wearing yellow sneakers with formal wear, why is he passive-aggressive!

The conversation didn’t go further, thankfully. “There is time before the meeting, I’m going to set up. Feel free to catch up here in the meantime,” said the principal. You both thanked him as he went into the room. The nausea came back at the sight of the wooden swirls closing, your heart was starting to pound. After all, maybe he was planning to air it out with an audience, you couldn’t know for sure with his emotionless eyes.

“Did you really not have nicer clothes,” Hizashi asked, breaking you out of your trance. He was loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Your nose scrunched. “The damage wasn’t THAT bad…”

Hizashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about the damage. Last time I saw you, there was more…” Hizashi held his hand out, waving it toward your body. He went through a jumble of words before he decided on one. “Color.”

The last time he saw you in person, you were twenty-four and in-between agencies again. He was celebrating the first anniversary of his show being picked up for a radio channel. After celebrating the anniversary, he took a short vacation out of the country. It was the first time he was allowed since his career started. When Hizashi finally arrived in the States, you wore a uniform. It had less hard armor and was more red. Red breast plate with your black broken-heart emblem, which resembled that old Pac-Man arcade game. Gauntlets with red finger and knuckle pieces and armguards to contrast the black base of the gloves. Some other details like the center of your knee and elbow pads, the tips of your boots, your utility belt, and other lines and trims followed,

Vibrant color bounced off the void background. In comparison, your current outfit was–

“You look like a common mall goth.” You tilt your head at him. Before you can say anything about calling you “common”, he continued. “Actually it’s worse!” Hizashi stepped closer to put his hands on your shoulders, pressing into the raised mark on the left. He leaned closer to your ear–was he always this touchy? He whispered, “you look emo.”

You punished him back, somewhat gently. “Hizashi, what the hell,” you said in English. Why was he making you worried over nothing! And calling you emo…

He laughed, wagging his finger at you like you were some brat. “Nuh uh uh. It’s Mic. We’re professionals and we’re working.”

“What do you mean ‘professionals’? What was professional about that!”

“I’m a radio host too, I have to play it to the crowd!”

You scanned the halls. “Where!” No one was here! A thud echoed across the empty hallway. In your confusion, you accidentally threw your briefcase across the hall. You stupidly remember the rule ‘no yelling in the hall!’ rule as black leather slid across the purple floor. Oops… You sigh as the briefcase spins to a stop.

Mic continued laughing. You grumbled, giving him your back as you approached the briefcase. To think, you considered hugging him earlier. The man walked behind you. “Don’t be so stiff!” You stared at the briefcase, almost rolling your eyes, he had no idea. You pondered how you were going to pick it up. If you did it the same way as you did in the bathroom, it would look suspicious. And dorky.

His eyes were on you, you could feel it. If you waited too long then Mic would volunteer to get it for you. That would make him ask questions though. “Right,” you broke the silence before he could. You squatted with bated breath to pick up the briefcase. Your knee almost popped and you wanted to tear into the wound, but you weren’t going to tell Mic that. Not now, at least.

Somewhere more private. AFTER you were sure he wouldn’t talk to Aizawa about anything. But first, you’d need to say you met him earlier and it didn’t go well. You can save Mic the drama, not going into specifics. Other than that, what’s one more thing to the pile? He’s in the dark about Akari, for now. He didn’t need to know Akari was the reason why you called him from your medic’s phone the other day, right this minute. You’ll have to go over everything in the meeting anyway, so why waste time?

“I would’ve gotten that,” said Mic.

“But you didn’t.” You shot back, harsher than you meant to. “It’s fine. I forgive you,” you stated with a pouty lip. You hoped the joke would mitigate the unintended force of your words. Mic probably didn’t notice, or he thought it was simply the set up to the punchline. “What have you been up to?”

Mic gave you an elaborate update on the past few weeks. His summer was busy since the Sports Festival. As usual, he was booked out when it came to the radio host and DJ gigs during the beginning of summer break. He told you all positive things. Dancing around All Might’s retirement as Number 1 Hero. You imagined he’d describe it as a certified downer if you asked. “...and our first years are about to go for their license!” Mic posed his hands in the rock and roll gesture.

“Wow, already? We had to wait until second year.”

“Because of all the villain attacks. It was decided it’d be better for the students to protect themselves without waiting for a hero’s permission.” There were no bells or whistles attached to the explanation. His hand gestures were minimal as well. While the idea of first years becoming skilled enough to get their license at a young age was impressive, there was no argument the circumstances weren’t ideal. First years shouldn’t have to deal with villains yet, but they have multiple times. Even in America, the youngest an applicant had to be was 17 to get their license. One of the perks of going to UA was being able to expedite the process and get your license when you were 16. You couldn’t imagine letting 15 year olds take the test in America. ”If you’ve watched the Sports Festival, then you know they’ll CRUSH it!” He punctuated the statement with his signature “YEAH!”, putting his hands in the air for extra dazzle.

A beat passed and he broke his pose, asking if you watched the Sports Festival. The question wasn’t as pumped compared to his previous statement. Guilt struck you. Another month’s gone by and you still haven’t watched your friends on International Television. “It’s okay if you didn’t!” He responded, obviously concerned.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched it by now. Work’s been crazy for months. I had to cancel TV because it was wasting money.”

Mic shrugged, with a relaxed expression on his face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I can give you the highlight reel while you're in town. But seriously, you had to cancel TV? You need to give it a rest!”

“No, you have four jobs. I have no excuse–”

“Details!” Mic brushed off your response with his hand. “Y’know…” Mic’s hand went to his face to rub his chin. “You could help out with the first years with the exam. If you have time for it, it could be another paycheck and you can hang out with me,” he finished like you were a kid motivated by cookies.

You raised your eyebrow and shifted your weight to your back leg. “First you say “give it a rest” and now you want to give me more work?” He posed glamorously then switched to another with that somewhat implied you giving him a high-five, but it didn’t look quite right. “Not everyone can multitask like you, Mic.”

“I’m just saying you have the experience. You judged the licensing exams a crazy amount of times—and you mentored young heroes before.”

“I didn’t do any judging this year, and there’s a difference between the American licensing exam and the one here. Also, those heroes already graduated from their program, and I only helped them because I had to. I’m not a good mentor, and, from what you said, I’m sure whoever’s teaching the first years are doing fine on their own.”

Mic paused with his mouth slightly open. His teeth clenched. “About that–”

A colorful blur caught the corner of your eye, but it was too late. A massive weight slammed into your body. The briefcase flew from your hand. What the hell! Your throat squeezed, choking down any sound you could’ve made. First there was shock. Then fire. Then pain. Every. Single. Type.

Everything burned and your bones rattled you from the inside. You had to get this off! You wrapped your arms around, ready to pick up and throw it down the next floor.

Your shoulder shrieked back at the embrace, your legs weren’t fairing with the shift either. In this split-second processing of your senses, it was apparent the weight was particularly squishy in certain places. It had purple hair as well, and she was absolutely thrilled to see you.

Your eyes widened. You lifted Nemuri, having stopped midway from slamming her to the ground. Her stomach was at your eye-level as she laughed with joy. That was good, you set her down., her heels clicking on the floor. You could’ve really hurt her. “--didn’t tell me you were coming to town–got you at the airport! Look at YOU!” The squishiness against your body left, replaced by an ecstatic Nemuri squeezing your face. Fingers pressed your cheeks enough to make your lips puff out. You tried to respond to Nemuri, but you might as well have your mouth full of cookies. The questions kept coming. After a bunch of non-answers, Nemuri took her hands off. Of course it was sore, but it was nothing like the rest of you. Unlike with Mic, you KNEW Nemuri was this touchy. This happened so many times a single memory became a cluster of events.

She turned out of your hold, pointing at Mic aggressively. “Did you know our friend was coming here and NOT tell ME!”

The scene was soon drowned out by your beating heart. Mic’s sunglasses slipped down his nose revealing a panicked expression toward Nemuri. He held out your briefcase to shield himself from the heat of the backlash. He was talking fast, explaining himself. You pressed your lips tightly in contrast. If they weren’t then you’d pant like you did earlier.

Nausea arrived once again like a recurring nightmare. Placing your hand over the stitches to push through the thick material did nothing. As predicted, the pain couldn’t be snuffed out. Keeping your face neutral was an uphill battle between scalding heat and pure annoyance.

Screeching thoughts scolded you to ‘stop scratching!’

Then the surge came.

Mic and Midnight were focused on each other. One was mad, one was somewhat scared. It gave you something to work with. Your breath deepened as you flexed your palm against your uniform. Once again the pain separated and simmered down. The only agony on the surface was the itchiness of your wound. It wasn’t perfect. You just had to bear with it—the healing process.

And watch out for any other attacks from your friends.

The hand on your abdomen balled into a fist. An invisible knife stabbed back inside the wound. Hopefully, the pressure could substitute the need to claw at your skin until your insides spilled into a puddle on the floor.

Before you got comfortable, something to your left burned through you. Not from a wound, or your quirk. Someone watched you down the corridor. Turning your head, you lowered the invisible knife.

“Aizawa,” Mic called out to him, but didn’t get a response. Aizawa’s attention was on you. Did he see what you did? There was no way he saw the whole situation, you thought. Just when you shanked yourself with the imaginary shiv. Even if he brought it up, so what? It was weird, not illegal. “Look who’s here, isn’t this exciting!” Mic continued. The way Aizawa kept staring you down made it clear he was expecting you to flinch. Maybe you weren’t doing something illegal just now, but he can say you stormed off from him. Which is worse in this context. A lot worse.

Aizawa tucked a blue file folder he was looking over into his arm with the others. “We saw each other earlier,” he responded coldly. He wasn’t excited to see you. Not today. Not ever. You stood your ground, waiting for him to tell them you walked out on him again, but it never came. He moved past, preferring not to be in the same room with you more than he had to.

“That’s it! C’mon don’t be like that! How often do you get to see an old buddy?”

“Just stay for a minute!”

He continued on his path, not responding to any of their pleas until he reached the door handle. “The meeting is starting soon. Don’t block the door.” He went inside, the door clicking shut behind him with an echo.

“Harsh…” Mic said.

Midnight turned to you. “I thought he’d be happier,” she said wistfully. You don’t blame her for hoping.

You shrugged, lifting your hands. ‘It is what it is,’ you thought, not quite remembering a good translation.

Midnight hummed. Mic moved on from the initial shock, opting to check out the detailing on your briefcase. No follow up questions from either of them. Throughout the years, there was never a time either of them mentioned Aizawa being their coworker. Not that you should care. They didn’t have to tell you anything about what he was up to. If he wanted you to know he could’ve told you himself. Whatever he did was none of your business, so why would they tell you?

Maybe they should’ve. It certainly would’ve avoided this mess. Although, the thought didn’t cross Mic’s mind. He probably heard the muffled yells of the medic for you to give his phone back and dived in with no questions. No hesitation.

Nonetheless, he could’ve warned you about Aizawa in the email he sent you after. Did he think you wouldn't come back if you knew ahead of time—if you knew Aizawa would be here? Probably not, but damn, dude, give a warning.

Midnight broke through your thoughts, asking how long you were planning to stay. She comments on the tension without any out of pocket comparisons to the devil’s tango. You reassured her you should be gone in two weeks. If you were going to do your research here, no doubt it would be uncomfortable for her and Mic if that’s how you’re going to interact with their friend. “I hope we can do something while you’re here. It’ll be fun,” Midnight offered half-heartedly. Even if you sucked at keeping contact for the past year, she was still nice to you. Although, it’s doubtful you two would have time for each other while you were investigating and she does her jobs.

“Count me in!” Mic puts his free arm around your shoulders, he doesn’t add any pressure, but your arms squeezed into your ribs at the unintentional threat. Like one wrong move and your skin would seer through kevlar and leather. “We have to grab a bite!”

Your ears perk up, stomach coming to the forefront of your thoughts. You were drooling at the thought of finally being able to eat some bomb-ass food.

The passage of time went faster with the distracting fantasy. Not long after agreeing to Mic’s invitation of food, and having to hear a long list of places you couldn’t go to this very moment, the meeting was close to a start–made apparent by the next pro hero arriving to the meeting room. Your friends introduced you to another one of their coworkers, Snipe, who was dressed as a cowboy and actually packed heat.

The lovely thoughts and curiosity came to a halt upon entering the room. Aizawa glared at you for disrupting him from reading what he had in those folders. Without breaking eye contact you reached toward Mic so he could give you back your briefcase, so you could put it down somewhere.

Aizawa went back to his folders, rubbing his temple like your presence alone vexes him. You chose to place it in the corner of the room by a potted plant. You were careful not to grunt as you squatted. Ignoring the pain, you swiped the pattern on the briefcase, for good luck even if you hardly believe in such a thing.

Call it habit or instinct, but you glanced over your shoulder after. Of course, there was Aizawa. He eyeballed you, waiting for you to make a mistake. You clenched your jaw as you stood up again, adjusting your uniform before walking back toward Mic toward the center of the room. If Aizawa saw an opportunity, an opening to get rid of you, he’d pounce.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #retrospective by dot #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #whump #tw pain #yamada hizashi #nemuri kayama

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