Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He should have been at Ground Beta by now. Unlike other days, he actually had something to do, so he should have prioritized the more important appointment.

But when some of the 1-A students asked him for a favor, he couldn’t resist his old instincts to lend a hand. Sure, it wasn’t anything strenuous, but these days the opportunities to help had waned to such a considerable amount that he jumped like a devoted dog to any request.

Besides, as a hero course teacher, it seemed right to nurture the students’ initiative. In fact, as he fiddled with the keys, he wore a proud smile while the seven ducklings behind him exchanged stories about recent rescues and accomplishments. His heart swelled to hear such passion in those youthful voices, reassured that this new generation wouldn’t be another bunch of glory hounds, but actual public servants. Real heroes.

“All right!” he said as he finally unlocked and swung open the double doors of Gym Gamma. “The place is yours, young pros! Go wild–er, but not too wild! I don’t want Cementoss coming after me for his prized facility getting destroyed!”

“Thanks, All Might!” Kirishima shouted, barreling inside and dropping to the concrete floor for some rapid crunches. “C’mon, guys, let’s get our blood pumping with some warm-ups!”

“Dude, chill out, we just got in! We should get the equipment first, get everything set up–”

“Uh, yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” Jiro said, poking Kaminari with her earlobes. “You just want to raid the drink machine.”

“Hey, ow, stop that! Okay, fine, but you know I need the electrolytes! They help my juices flow!”

Yaoyorozu, meanwhile, bowed deeply. “Thank you so much, sir! I know we took up some of your time, but we really do appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t much effort on my part! Now, here,” he said, holding out the heavy keyring for her to take. “I don’t think anyone else signed up to use it today, so you’ll be responsible for locking up, and returning this to the teacher’s dorms when you’re finished.”

“Huh? You’re not staying?” Sero asked.

“I wish I could, but I promised your teacher that I’d lend him a hand today for a special project. As a matter of fact, I should be heading there now–”

“Is that where Ochako and the others are, ribbit ? I was wondering what they were up to.”

He smiled, wishing he could explain–but he understood why Aizawa wanted to keep it on the downlow. Some of them might insist on attending future exercises, which could cause too much distraction.

“You’ll find out soon enough, if you haven’t figured it out already,” he said, winking at Asui. Already he could see the gears turning in her head, piecing together what - and who - the mysterious project could entail. “But I trust you kids will still push yourself hard, even without supervision?”

“Hell yeah we will!” Kirishima shouted, jumping from the push-up position onto his feet, and beginning to shadow-box. “We’ll try not to bust this place up too much with our manly skills!”

“That’s what I like to hear! Oh, but I hope to get a chance to talk to some of you sometime soon. Ha, don’t look so worried!” he quickly added, as some faces fell with concern. “It’s just some tips I’ve been thinking up in regards to your quirks. Like you, Young Kaminari, I’ve been thinking about the possibility of channeling electricity--”

“Like a power rod? Yeah, that’s what I’m testing out today!” the blond boy said, grinning broadly. “Edgeshot came up with the idea last week! You know, I never would’ve thought of it myself--”

“Not with that fizzled circuit of a brain,” Ashido snickered to Jiro.

“--but he’s like ten times smarter than me, so he figured out that I could do something besides discharge! Right now I can only absorb and store electricity, but maybe I’ll be able to redirect the charge so I don’t have to keep frying myself! How awesome would that be?!”

It took a great deal of effort to keep his smile plastered on his face as Kaminari spoke, his hands mimicking a gun that he aimed at various places to play-shoot. By all accounts, he should be happy to hear the kid get so passionate about new usages for his quirk. 

So why did his heart sting?

“That’s...great! I’m glad that your new mentors are staying so involved in your growth--”

“He’s super awesome! Him and Kamui, and even Mt. Lady!” Sero said, flexing his special elbows. “Kamui pushed me super hard in the beginning, but thanks to him, I can restrain anybody in seconds!”

“Yeah, Gang Orca totally scared me at first, but he’s actually a big softie who really knows his stuff. I’m so glad I didn’t go back to Deatharms, I wouldn’t have come up with all the killer moves I got now if I got stuck with him again.”

“I know what you mean!” Yaoyorozu said, eyes sparkling. “The match-ups this time were much more advantageous to us! I was speaking with Majestic last week, and he theorized that the chemical make-up of the food I consume could affect the durability of the items I produce, so I’ve been including more iron in my diet to test it out--”

“And Yoroi Musha has me making acid bullets for precision moves! WOO, work studies are so awesome! All these old guys really know their stuff!”

The smile on his face had diminished quite significantly--but not enough to garner the students’ attention. “Well, it sounds like you kids have everything figured out, so I won’t keep you much longer. Good luck with your training!”

“Thanks, All Might!” came the collective response, along with friendly waves. But when he tried to wave back, they all turned their backs to focus on their practice, fervently discussing potential new combos or power outputs.

He stepped out of the gym, barely repressing a small sigh, and trekked towards Ground Beta.  

It was two-forty when he arrived at the villain lair, a full twenty minutes past the agreed arrival time. He might have felt guilty if his mood wasn’t already rock bottom, and figured that five more minutes wouldn’t make much of a difference. 

It was his first time visiting this spot, but it was standard enough to feel familiar: Two floors, a main lobby and underground bunker, armed with various traps both visible and out-of-sight. If they were online, he couldn’t tell, but he passed unaccosted. 

Personally, he preferred using other sites for training exercises. Underground hideouts were luxuries that few villains could afford, especially for the standard mugger or run-of-the-mill gang, so shopping centers, banks, and regular streets provided more immersive experiences. 

But the lair offered up interesting challenges: Most of today’s group relied on powerful attacks, useful for dealing with traps and robot guards, but posed a major risk to key structural points that would require them to reign in their more destructive abilities, lest they want to get buried. This would be good training for all of them, not just the main focus of today’s exercise.

He ambled through the maze-like bunker without trouble, only encountering two patrolling robots; although he suspected more would pop out when their real targets arrived. When he reached the final hallway - devoid of enemies and trickery - he began to prickle with apprehension as he took another look at his phone, and realized the severity of his tardiness. 

Aizawa was going to be mad.

Yet he still mustered up the courage to keep walking to the double-doors at the end of the hallway. Forcing on a smile, he turned the knobs and entered. “Good aftern–”

“You’re late.”

The sole occupant of the room stood at the back of the room, which was constructed as the stereotypical boss room. Monitors of varying sizes covered the wall, while an expensive wooden desk and chair set added to the pretense of glamor and civility that most villainous leaders liked to evoke.

Except for this one, who couldn’t care less about image or prestige. Not only because this was a fake villain, but also because it was the pragmatically apathetic Eraserhead. He might have concocted the exercise, but he didn’t put any special effort into his role, not even adding any flair to his costume.

Then again, Aizawa didn’t really need to worry about presentation at the moment, given that there were no heroes in sight.

Besides, his presence was downright intimidating without forcing it. Instead of his usual passive stance, he stood with his arms crossed, back stiffer and straighter than usual, while radiating a more negative than usual aura. A lot of criminals could learn from Aizawa on how to terrify without trying too hard.

“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked–”

“What if they showed up without a hostage to save?” Aizawa snapped coldly, still not taking his eyes off the wall of monitors. “We make these as accurate as possible for their sake, you know. It’s the only way they learn.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Toshinori murmured, “Yeah, I hear you,” as he approached the younger man with caution used for a grumpy cat, his footsteps muffled by the carpet. “And how’s everything going? Where’s Young Shinsou and the others?”

The beat hung long in the air. 

“That bad--?”

“They just finished taking down Midnight. Without Shinsou.”

Another step, and Toshinori now stood at Aizawa’s side, giving him a full view of the younger man’s expression, and to say it was worse than usual would be an understatement: Endeavor would be jealous of that scowl. Despite his natural inclination, Toshinori smartly chose to offer a sympathetic nod in lieu of verbal support before taking a peek at the monitors. 

The large central screen showed Bakugo, Todoroki, Iida, and Uraraka surrounding a cuffed Midnight. She didn’t seem particularly miffed about her situation, wearing a teasing smile while apparently chatting with her would-be captors. It was a bit hard to tell without audio.

Meanwhile, the Gen Studies transfer lay on the grass close by, snoozing. 

“He had a hard time against Snipe and Mic because, for some reason, he refused to use his quirk, and opted for combat. His eardrum must be affected, since he didn’t hear Midnight sneak up on him.”

“Poor kid.”

“It was irrational,” Aizawa said flatly. “This entire exercise was constructed around his quirk, and how he’ll be expected to use it. He’s wasting time.”

Against better judgment, Toshinori said in a soft voice, “I think he’s trying to impress you. Show you how much he’s learned from you.” He let out a short chuckle, reminiscing on his own successor’s feral attempts to exceed expectations. “You know, what boys do to show their gratitude to mentors.”

“Sheer idiocy,” Aizawa muttered, pinching his brow. “I’ll never understand it.”

No surprise that the cold master of logic couldn’t empathize with the desperation for approval. Confident people were lucky like that. “He did okay with the interrogations, though, right?”

“Not really. Thirteen and Cementoss deliberately let him brainwash them, even though I told them to make this a challenge. At least the other three took things seriously. By now he should realize that if this was all real, he would have been eliminated.”

Toshinori shivered. He thought he experienced the worst of Aizawa’s chill at the beginning of the year, but evidently that wasn’t the case. 

However, as he had come to learn over time, the harsher that Aizawa sounded, the more that he cared for others’ well-being. 

“It is his first exercise since the joint training, and it’s a whole new kind of challenge. He just needs some time to adjust. I’m sure he’ll get the hang of it soon.”

Aizawa scoffed, “Tch, not like he has a choice. But this wasn’t a complete waste of time. His teammates all needed to practice their interrogation skills anyway, particularly Bakugo and Todoroki. Threats can only carry you so far.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Toshinori said as he checked the monitors again. Based on mouth movements, Uraraka and Iida seemed to be doing all the talking while Bakugo and Todoroki hung around like thuggish bodyguards. But it was hard to tell because everything was silent. “How come we haven’t heard anything this whole time? Is there a problem with the camera drones?”

“I muted them when they were dealing with Mic. Then I decided to leave the sound off so I wouldn’t have to listen to their petty bickering.”

Toshinori chuckled. “So Bakugo was giving Shinsou a hard time?”

Aizawa grunted in affirmation. Endeavor might have mellowed out in the past months, but he still wasn’t the ideal role model for professional behavior. Shame that they couldn’t get a hold of Jeanist, Bakugo could have benefitted from some more time under his guidance.

“So, they’ll get the last clue from Midnight, which they’ll have to piece together with the others to find out about this location. They get here…and then what?”

“Since someone blabbed to his favorite student about today’s exercise–” 

Toshinori coughed into his fist.

“--the problem child kept bothering me about letting him help, so I put him on trap duty,” he said, gesturing to the one monitor that wasn’t focusing on the heroes. There was Midoriya in a room nearby, muttering to himself (also muted) as he studied the many buttons on a large control panel.

“Really? I thought he’d be perfect as another combat henchman.”

“Your belief in him is touching,” Aizawa said dryly, “but Midoriya’s not skilled enough to handle five opponents at once. With traps and robots, he has a better chance at slowing them down.”

“You’re sure putting Shinsou through the ringer today!”

“It’s necessary. And Midoriya won’t be too hard on them. They’ll be here sooner than you think. So, we should get you ready,” he said, and pulled out a pair of fuzzy pink cuffs.

Toshinori’s cheeks turned hot at the sight. “You brought that pair?!”

Aizawa smirked. “Something wrong?”

“T-That’s a bit risque–!”

“I’m a villain on a budget.” Dropping the teasing act, Aizawa jerked his chin at Toshinori’s torso. “You should take off the jacket. We’ll be here for a while, so you don’t want to overheat.”

“Like that’s a big issue right now,” he muttered--but also complied, shaking off the extra layer, folding it over twice, and tossing it to the side. Then, with a sigh, he offered up his hands, trying to repress the memories caused with this pair of restraints.

Of course his will had to be tested by Aizawa stroking his wrists as he cuffed Toshinori’s arms behind him, slowly, savoring the process of rendering him helpless. Making him fully cognizant of the transition from fellow coworker, to captured prey.

“You’re shameless.”

Aizawa hummed in response before easing him down into the executive office chair. Normally a hostage shouldn’t enjoy the honor of taking the boss throne, so he should feel blessed.

Except, it was uncomfortable. It might be expensive, but it was also too short for his height, causing his poor knees to creak and bend. The plush leather cushions were probably nice, but his bound arms got in the way when he tried to lean back against him. He looked up at Aizawa, intending to appear stern, but knowing his expression came across as a childish pout. “Couldn’t you have cuffed me in the front?”

“This is more realistic. Or should I leave you hogtied on the floor?”

Toshinori grimaced, yet kept his lips sealed. He knew better than to tempt with any display of defiance.

Aizawa turned back to the monitors, the playful atmosphere immediately switching off. He crossed his arms again, fingers drumming on his own biceps, while his shoulders sat straight and stiff. Strands of hair began to stand, the end tips wiggling a little, and he exhaled long and hard through his nostrils. 

It was so odd, surreal even, to see Aizawa get so wound up. This was worse than his usual annoyance or disappointment, or even impatience, because this situation meant so much. It must be so frustrating to see Shinsou still dozing–

No, wait, he finally started to rouse. Shinsou sat up, expression dull like most people’s when waking from a pleasant nap, and ruffled his wild purple hair lazily while he looked down. 

Then he looked over to his teammates, and his face sunk. That had to be the third most heartbroken look that Toshinori ever saw on a teenager, right behind Midoriya and Bakugo’s moments of despair.

Shinsou shot up to his feet and stumbled over to the group, but it was too late, judging by how the other four continued conversing without notice. It likely wasn’t intentional by the others - except for Bakugo - to shut him out. He hadn’t provided any insight to the mission before, and he wasn’t about to now, so of course he got let out of the circle. 

Only when they took off running did one of them, Uraraka, address him. Bakugo and Todoroki had left them in the dust, but she and Iida held back for his sake. She floated herself and Shinsou, and wrapped her grappling hook around Iida’s waist, who then activated his engines and took off, dragging his teammates along like oddly-shaped kites. It wouldn’t take them too long to arrive. 

Toshinori glanced to the bottom right, where Midoriya continued fiddling away at the vast control panel. It wasn’t so long ago that he had been in Aizawa’s place, watching his successor stagger behind his classmates, wondering if he really could catch up. 

But not only did the formerly quirkless wimp catch up, he bounded past half of his class. That wasn’t mere favoritism speaking either: Midoriya was one of the top five students in class, he was interning at the new Number One Agency, and he had defeated over a handful of enemies that would have given All Might some trouble in his prime. He had done more than enough to earn Toshinori’s approval.

So there was hope for Shinsou. Maybe he wouldn’t be in the frontlines facing villains by the likes of Stain or Overhaul any time soon, but he could get there. With such a useful quirk, Shinsou had the makings of a great hero. Not a charismatic commander of sidekicks, but the cunning shadow that could turn the tide of battle.

Just like his mentor.

Which was probably why seeing Shinsou fumble badly affected Aizawa so much. Every so often he rubbed at his face, fingers dragging down his cheeks, clearly pained by the entire exercise.

Toshinori’s heart ached for him. He wanted to assure the younger man to not lose hope; let him know that he and everyone at UA wanted this experiment to succeed, and knew that it could. It would just take some more time, so long as he kept on believing in Shinsou. 

But the second that Aizawa’s faith in the boy wavered, everything would crumble.

Yet he knew that such sentiment would only worsen things. Aizawa wasn’t immune to delivering rousing speeches - albeit in less than appealing tones - but he didn’t want that reflected back at him. Those were best used on kids who needed their self-esteem uplifted, not an adult who fully understood the harsh realities of the world. No matter Toshinori’s best efforts to empathize, Aizawa would just find them condescending and annoying.

Still, he couldn’t bear to ignore his fellow man’s turmoil, so he figured out a different way to cheer him up: “So, what kind of villain are you?”

The pause was long and silent, disrupted only by the chair creaking under Toshinori’s weight.

“...What?”

“You know, your villain persona? What’s it like?”

It took a while for the younger man to glance back at Toshinori, his eyebrows knitting into a confused line. Then, when he realized that Toshinori was actually waiting on an answer, he scoffed, “I’m a teacher overseeing a training,” before turning back to the screen.

“I guess that’s a bit terrifying. But I was thinking more creatively. Like, what’s your tragic backstory? Your grand motivation? What caused you to kidnap a hostage, and risk your potential for a life of crime?”

Now Aizawa spun around fully to face him, not even attempting to suppress his groan. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

“Sure I am! I always thought about my villain character every time we did an exercise. It was a good way to psyche myself up!”

“Doing your job wasn’t a good enough reason?”

“Eh, you know how it is: You’re getting prepared for the exercise, your mind wanders a bit, and you start to think: ‘Huh, I wonder what I’d be like as a real villain?’ And then it snowballs from there.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, that’s what I did. And I think it helped. I never thought I could ever truly understand the criminal mind, but all those times I played the villain really got me thinking about what would lead people into that lifestyle.”

Aizawa stayed silent.

Sighing, Toshinori sank back into his seat - or as best as he could with his arms in the way - and mumbled, “But I guess it was pointless. Not like I ever got a chance to monologue. You know,” he added suddenly, as memories flooded, “I wish I did! I had a pretty decent villain cooked up. I could have come up with some damn good speeches!”

“Mm. Well, you don’t need to worry about that anymore–”

“So, he started off as a goon–”

“Good grief,” Aizawa mumbled.

“He started off as a goon,” Toshinori continued, “because he never really had a chance to succeed at life, so he got mixed up with the wrong crowd, probably as early as middle school. But he was always a dreamer. Someone who wanted to do good, even when he joined a gang. Beating up other criminals over territory disputes wasn’t so bad, but when his bosses would send him after innocents, that wouldn’t sit right with him. Eventually he couldn’t stand to follow orders any longer and left. Not without a beating, mind you,” he added with a chuckle.

Aizawa showed no signs of reacting.

“But he left, and was free to pursue his dream as a lovable rogue to the community. He’d rob banks and threaten rich folk, and keep a bit of the treasure, because, you know, he had to eat. But he’d also distribute as much as he could to neighborhoods. A sort of modern day Robin Hood.”

“What, no lackeys?” 

Aizawa’s question caught Toshinori off-guard. Was he actually paying attention? “Oh, I wouldn’t have patience to handle other people. Never did, honestly!”

“Except for Torino, the scientist, Nighteye–”

“Er, well, those were all special cases!” he said, laughing nervously. “But I hardly compare to Endeavor or the Pussycats! No, I don’t think I would have partnered with anyone. I think I’d see most other criminals as too selfish or unhinged for my goals.

“And,” he added with a long sigh, “I really don’t think anybody would have wanted to work with me. In fact, I think my schtick would have gotten old even to civilians. Sure, they’d appreciate the support at first; but then police and pros would probably arrest the recipients as unwitting accomplices, once they found the stolen money and goods in their possessions. That would ruin my popularity pretty quickly, and people would start rejecting my generous offers.

“And that’s not taking into account all the times I’d get arrested! I wouldn’t try to hurt anybody too badly, so I don’t think I’d get any long sentences. But I’d be a repeat offender. Wouldn’t take long for the jail cells to become revolving doors.

“And I’d just keep getting older and weaker. But I got stuck on a single path in life, so I wouldn’t have much choice but to keep on stealing. Maybe I’d try robbing other criminals, as a way to stay honorable, but they’d probably beat me without much effort. Eventually, I’d just resort to robbing convenience stores just to survive, or to get thrown back in jail so I wouldn’t have to worry about my next meal. But I wonder if I would have even lasted long enough to reach fifty.”

And he immediately cringed. He had worked so hard to conceal his true age, but now a hint of it slipped out, and he felt so embarrassed. Worst, it had to be around Aizawa, as if he needed another reminder of the significant age gap between them. Aizawa acted more of a cantankerous elder than Toshinori did, but he was still just a man in his thirties. He would have been born when Toshinori was starting his career! 

…But to his relief, when Aizawa spoke, he didn’t acknowledge the possible age at all. “You’re more of a realist that I give you credit for.” 

Toshinori, laughing harder than natural, said, “That’s quite the compliment, coming from you!”

Aizawa shrugged. “It’s surprising. It’d be logical that the Number One Hero would have been the Number One Villain in another life.”

Here, Toshinori knew to keep his mouth shut. He had spent even longer hiding his quirkless past that it was much easier to keep it close to his chest. Hell, he had used One for All for so long, longer than he had been quirkless, that he might as well have been a regular superhuman all along.

But he wasn’t. The harsh reality was that he had been one person away from living that dour life he had envisioned. If he hadn’t run into Master, he’d be rotting in a jail cell now as some worthless, quirkless, insignificant criminal, even more pathetic than he currently was.

Oh, there was a possibility that he could have lived a peaceful life. Maybe put his brain to good use like Dave, and studied all the way to doctorate programs, likely devoted to heroics and society, with some dabbling in biology. Or, if he wanted to indulge his adventurous side, he could have made for a decent firefighter, or cop that played by his own rules.

But, let’s face it, he would have heeded that itch to do something more meaningful. Every time he trundled along his boring, ordinary life, he’d watch everyone soar above his head, rescuing him from runaway buses or greedy thieves, and long to join in those adventures. And if he couldn’t be a pro, then he would try as a noble outlaw.

And he’d fail. 

So though he lost some vital organs; though he could count the number of loved ones on a single hand; though he had fallen quickly from the glory of All Might, quickly forgotten by society that moved on to the next shiny symbols–

He was still so grateful to have lived this life, and not the others.

“We all have a bit of a weak side to us,” Toshinori finally offered to Aizawa, smiling softly. 

“Even the Symbol of Peace?”

“Former,” he corrected. “And it doesn’t mean I lived a peaceful life. Just that I tried to make it possible for others.”

“...Yeah.”

Toshinori lifted his head back up, and inhaled deeply. As he breathed out, he let go of dark thoughts, and felt lighter for it. “That was fun! Thanks for letting me ramble a bit.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

Toshinori grinned. Of course there had been a choice–Aizawa could have just told him to shut up, and he would have complied. But he didn’t, and kindly chose to listen.

It was sweet.

“So. What about you?”

Aizawa sighed. “You really are persistent.”

“Hey, it’s only fair! I shared my villain side, now it’s your turn!”

“Why?”

“Come on, it’s just a harmless thought experiment!”

“We’re not here for fun, remember?” Aizawa asked, scowling back at him. “We’re supposed to be observing the students’ progress through this exercise.”

Pouting, Toshinori mumbled, “I know that.”

“Tch…” Aizawa muttered, glancing back at the monitors. The kids had finally made it to the entrance, Uraraka deactivating the float on her and Shinsou. They didn’t barge in just yet, however, making the correct assumption that traps waited inside based on their animated (but still muted) discussion.

Except for Shinsou, who hung around like an unwanted friend. He put his mask back on, but it did little to conceal his morose expression.

Toshinori could relate.

“It’s just...it’s all a bit hard for me to swallow, you know? That this is what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life: Being a victim, not doing anything fun.” 

Aizawa stayed quiet, still studying the monitors as the kids finally went inside, ever closer to rescuing their hostage.

“But I have to move on, don’t I? And get used to doing…well, this,” he said, rattling his cuffs.

It was odd to think that he’d be so fond of those roles, but, oh, how he missed them! He’d give anything to wear those bulky shoulder pads and tight mask again, over sitting here like some ugly damsel. Just because he was getting used to it in the setting of a bedroom didn’t mean he appreciated the constant reminder of his now worthless–

“Fine.”

“Eh?”

Turning back to face him, Aizawa intoned, duller than usual, “I’m the villainous Eraserhead who captured All Might. I demanded one million yen for your safe return, but my true goal is to test new heroes through a series of trials.”

Toshinori stared, disbelieving that Shouta actually indulged his request.

Then, he beamed. “See! Was that so hard?”

“No, just unnecessary.”

“Sure, but it’s about flexing those creative muscles! Which could use a bit of work. I mean, just one million? Surely I’m worth ten―you know what, that’s besides the point!” Toshinori quickly stammered out as the younger man raised an eyebrow. “But I thought I was supposed to be a CEO?”

Aizawa shrugged. “Having All Might as my hostage makes more symbolic sense.”

“Oh! I suppose that works, although I’m not sure that matters much these days--”

“Stop putting yourself down. You were the Number One for decades, you’re not going to be forgotten in a few months. Your merchandise still outsells Endeavor’s and Hawks’ combined.”

“I didn’t know you cared that much about sales!”

Aizawa sighed.

“But I have to say, your villain motivation reminds me of Stain: Testing heroes, seeing if they’re worthy of the job, and punishing them if they aren’t.”

“I wouldn’t have killed anyone. Depending on the pro, I would either put them through trials to judge their skills, or just skip to public humiliation. But no, I wouldn’t have gone as far as he did.”

“Because you’re a good man―”

“Because it’s more cruel,” Aizawa said, emotionless. “Most pros thrive on popularity and adulation, so losing to some nameless criminal would be a fate worse than death. I wouldn’t have to do much beyond tying them up, and leave them somewhere for civilians to find. And laugh. And spread their shame online. Even if their agency shut down, they’d never be forgotten. They’d get laughed out of the store for being such a disgrace.”

Toshinori gulped. For someone who hadn’t cared about a silly thought experiment, he sure painted a strong picture. “That’s…interesting…But I don’t think a lot of heroes would take those insults so lightly. Wouldn’t most of them come after you for revenge?”

“Then I’d repeat the process until the lesson sunk in.”

“Ever the teacher, eh?”

Aizawa’s lips twitched, a brief flash of a smirk, before settling back to the collected exterior. “So, you satisfied? Or do I need to come up with a tragic backstory?”

Forcing out a huff of laughter, Toshinori said, “No, no, you indulged me enough! I wouldn’t want to strain you too hard!” He then smiled, his tone becoming more sincere now. “Thank you. That was kind of you…and enlightening. I have no doubt that you would have made for a terrifying threat!”

Aizawa grunted back, more distracted by putting his eyedrops back in their correct pouch.

“To other heroes, that is. I mean, there’s no way you would have stood a chance against me!”

He meant it as light-hearted teasing, but he could hear the bitter bit to his words, an inevitable result of his simmering resentment. It wasn’t fair to take it out on the one other person who respected, not pitied this regressed form. But people supposedly lashed out at safe targets–hell, he did so with Nighteye five years ago. 

Who left him. 

So he should know better than to test boundaries, especially with someone so out of his league that had every right to break off their arrangement. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

In his defense, sitting handcuffed in a chair was really uncomfortable. It’d turn anyone prickly.

Aizawa tensed up once again–but instead of being lost, it felt controlled. “...Is that so?”

“Not to disparage your talents, but, let’s be real!” Toshinori said, feeling validated enough to chuckle. “You would have had a hell of a time facing me. I certainly can’t imagine this scenario ever happening.”

Hands digging into his pockets, Aizawa studied him, head tilted slightly while his expression stayed deliberately blank. Just like a cat observing a koi pond.

Usually such intense observation from those golden eyes unnerved Toshinori, but he met them with ease, and even smugness, because for the first time, Aizawa had no argument. Even if erasure took away One for All, he had experience to compensate; and as agile and youthful as his lover was, Toshinori had studied under someone quicker. All Might would’ve had Eraserhead in a chokehold in seconds. So perhaps he puffed out his chest a bit and smiled a bit too brightly as a dare.

After a few quiet seconds, Aizawa stepped away from the wall of monitors. There was hardly a change to his posture - hands still hidden, shoulders slacker than ever - or cool-tempered mood as he stalked towards his prey, uncaring of the defiance. “I admit that taking you down would require a lot of strategy. But the effort would have been worth it.”

“Quite the ambitious project for a solo villain,” Toshinori said, smirking. “And you really think you’d have a chance?”

“Maybe not ten years ago, or even eight. But when your quirk weakened? I would have been your worst match-up, right?” 

That wiped away Toshinori’s smile. It was almost funny how quickly his pride could rise and fall in such a short amount of time. “Er. I suppose…”

Aizawa stepped up to him, so sudden and quick that Toshinori jumped. “That’s why you were afraid of me when you joined UA.”

“I-I wasn’t–!” 

“Yeah?” Aizawa asked, leaning down to meet his eyes. “You weren’t worried about me using erasure on you? Not in front of everyone?”

Toshinori gulped, shrinking further into the chair. That had in fact been his biggest fear when he first heard about Aizawa’s quirk, which had been exacerbated by their rocky relationship in the beginning. It would have been so easy for Aizawa to expose Toshinori’s true form to the shocked (and disgusted) students at any time before Kamino. 

“You wouldn’t have dared...right?”

To his surprise, Aizawa straightened up. “Of course not, because I’m a hero.”

Toshinori exhaled, relieved.

“But as a villain?”

All of a sudden, Aizawa was behind him, completely out of sight unless Toshinori wanted to turn his head to a painful degree. 

Not that he had the chance to, when one rough hand snaked along his neck to cup his jaw, and forced him to look upwards, while the other lay flat on his chest, gently yet firmly pinning him against the back.

Toshinori was a bit ashamed to admit that he squeaked. But it also added to the new tension in the air.

“I’d have fun playing with you,” Aizawa said, before leaning down for a kiss.

Just as the double-doors opened.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi was acutely aware of the experience gap between him and everyone else. How could he not be?

But it didn’t mean he appreciated getting constant reminders about it. It was like every time he began to feel somewhat confident, reality had to knock him down a few pegs.

“USELESS FUCKING NOOB!”

“Bakugo, don’t call him that!”

“I wouldn’t if he wasn’t such a load! That’s twice in a row I had to save his ass! Why are you even here, huh?!”

He had a few good inches on Bakugo, not counting hair, yet Hitoshi never felt smaller in his life. Not even Sensei’s brutal training stung as much as listening to this angry chihuahua berate him–and be completely in the right. “...Sorry.”

The anger in Bakugo’s eyes faded into disappointment, as though he had anticipated a fight. The second that the elevators dinged open, he stormed away, mumbling about greenhorns getting in his way.

“Hey, it’s okay!” a soft voice said by his shoulder. “You’re still starting out! And lots of the guys in our class still have trouble facing Midnight. She’s tougher than she looks!”

Uraraka’s words made him flush with shame, as her comfort came off more condescending than kind, given how he had been the only guy in their group to fall victim to their previous foe.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hitoshi snapped, shrugging her off and stepping into the final hallway of the underground labyrinth. The other boys walked ahead of him, but he concentrated specifically on the backside of the spiky-haired douche while he seethed to himself.

He missed the days when he could just be annoyed at Bakugo. It was almost fun to hate him for making it into the Hero Course thanks to his flashy quirk, yet not appearing grateful for it. If only they faced each other at the Sports Festival: it would have been so easy to brainwash that loudmouth, and publicly humiliate him with all sorts of ridiculous commands. 

But now Hitoshi had to acknowledge that the jerk had earned his place. The Joint Exercise had proven that when he and his team concluded their round in mere minutes without a single loss; but today’s exercise cemented Bakugo’s status as a prodigy, a hero in everything but name.

Him, and everyone else. Hitoshi wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or mortified that he had been grouped up with some of 1-A’s top students, all of whom had had their names in the news at some point, and trained under top agencies. They certainly proved their experience with nimble maneuvers and improvised strategies countless times today.

Meanwhile, he was having a hard time with an “easy” rescue operation explicitly tailored to him. 

If you asked him, facing down adult opponents was pretty fucking hard; yet his teammates had taken everything in stride. If they struggled, it was only because they slowed down for his sake.

Hell, he couldn’t even say he did great against the first two teachers. Sure, he used his quirk to extract clues, just like he was supposed to, but he knew that they took it easy on them. Granted, they probably didn’t want to face Bakugo and Todoroki in combat; but it didn’t make him feel confident about his abilities when they made themselves into such easy targets for his brainwashing. 

So on the third “henchman” onward, he decided against using his quirk. Who cared about negotiation? All that mattered was getting the clues, one way or another, and he had other tricks up his sleeve, something that Sensei imposed on him since the start of his training. He could prove that he wasn’t a one-trick pony.

…Except that failed miserably, earning him a torn sleeve, a busted left eardrum, an unwelcome nap, and soul-rendering embarrassment. 

He clutched at the front of his uniform. He had been so happy when he got it last night, he posed in front of the mirror like a major tool. But he couldn’t help it: It looked so cool and ninja-like, just like he pictured, but way better.

But now? He felt like a little kid playing dress-up--which was saying a lot when he worked alongside a guy wearing two giant grenades, and another in knightly armor. But they moved with such natural grace that Hitoshi couldn’t hope to achieve, like their costumes were second skins. 

Whatever excitement he had at the start of the exercise had completely withered. Now Hitoshi only thought about putting this crappy day behind him, and crawling into his bed to nurse his wounds.

Once they finished the Boss. He began to feel queasy as they approached the room at the end of the hallway, his footsteps dragging behind his teammates.

Not that they seemed to care. Even Uraraka stepped in line with the guys without looking back at Hitoshi, engaged in an intense discussion about strategy. Their voices echoed against the wide walls of the hallway, but they talked so fast that it was hard to keep up, or try to get a word in. Whatever insight that popped into his head got spoken by somebody else.

“--not just erasure. The location will also prove difficult for most of us, given the nature of our quirks. Even if we have the opportunity to use them, we need to avoid using major attacks,” Iida said, rubbing his chin. Must be hard to do with a helmet.

“And it’s likely that he’ll have minor traps scattered to restrict our movements, like the caltrops at mine and Yayorozu’s exam. Seems like the key is distraction, but I’m not sure how we can do that.”

“And there’s the hostage to account for! A smart villain would use him as a human shield to prevent us from landing a direct hit.”

“Right,” Todoroki said, nodding. “Obviously Aizawa’s not going to hurt the hostage, but he’s not going to make it easy for us to rescue them.”

“And he’s not going to be happy if we run out the clock without finishing the objective. But what’s the answer?” Uraraka asked, rubbing her head. “Oh, I wish I could come up with something quick…I bet Deku would’ve come up with a plan before we even got here.” 

“Knowing him, he’d probably try to reason with the villain, and ensure the safety of the hostage first. As all good heroes would do!”

A very small smile spread across Todoroki’s lips. “Even if he couldn’t, I’m sure he’d be willing to fight Aizawa quirkless.”

“Yeah, he would,” Bakugo mumbled, eyes almost looking soft under his mask. Then, he shook his head, and regained the typical caustic expression. “But he ain’t here, so one of us has to play decoy.”

Iida and Uraraka seemed taken aback, but Todoroki narrowed his eyes intently. “What are you thinking?”

“We go in, and chat him up to drop his guard. Not that he will, but it’ll give us time to check the room for traps. Then, one of us rushes him. He’ll be so focused on whoever has the balls to fight him hand-to-hand that the rest of us can spread out with some leeway. Maybe he’ll probably nab some of us with that stupid scarf, but somebody should be able to evade him long enough to use their quirk, and nail his ass.”

It was so hard to reach Iida’s expression under that helmet, but his surprise emanated from within. “That’s a decent strategy, Bakugo! How’d you come up with it so quickly?”

“The hell you sounding so shocked about, Four Eyes?!”

“That’s the best chance we got. But then who’ll be the decoy?”

“I’ll do it!” Uraraka said, holding up her fists with a determined (but nervous) smile. “Your quirks are better from far away, so I’ll do my best to distract him as long as I can!”

“And I have a feeling that, after Uraraka, he’ll focus his attention on Todoroki and Bakugo, so you’ll both need to go opposite directions!”

“Yeah. Either we get him right away, or we’ll distract him long enough for you to save the hostage.”

“Then why are we still standing here?” Bakugo asked, shoving through and heading for the door. “Let’s get this shit over with already!”

“Wait, what about Shinsou?” Uraraka said. She turned on Hitoshi, eyes wide with apology. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! We didn’t mean to leave you out!”

Somehow he mustered up a smile, even though they couldn’t see it behind his mask. “No, it’s fine. You guys have a pretty good plan. We should just go with that. I’d probably mess things up–”

“Yeah, you would,” Bakugo snorted, causing Hitoshi to cringe.

“Why don’t you chat with Mr. Aizawa–er, I mean the villain!” Iida said, chopping at the air. “That should lull him into a false sense of security, and give us time to survey the room before we make our move!”

What else could he do but nod along? This was supposed to be his future career, and today had already proven that he was nowhere near ready to combat actual threats. At least it’d give him something to do.

“All right, we figured things out, now can we finish this?”

Without further delay, they gathered around the double-doors, like hungry kittens around an empty bowl. Hitoshi might have laughed at the image, if his heart didn’t pound so furiously, deafening his already impaired ears. 

“Open the damn door already, noob.”

“You got this!”

Gulping, Hitoshi grasped hold of both round knobs with quivering hands. He squeezed his eyes tight and inhaled deeply, counting to four internally, before letting out a long, shaky breath. It was easier to breathe with his mask off, but he felt so exposed without it. The others could probably see his raw fear and insecurities.

He twisted the knobs, pushed the doors open--

And walked in on Sensei kissing All Might.

It happened so quickly. Only a few seconds passed before the teachers noticed their presence, looking just as stunned as Hitoshi felt.

At the same time, time stretched, and the moment lasted to a long, uncomfortable degree to burn into Hitoshi’s brain: All Might sitting in a chair while Sensei, behind him, wrapped his arms everywhere like an octopus while kissing him. It wasn’t a simple peck either, but a tender, hungry kind that you’d see in romance films, typically between two partners who did this thing before. It might have taken only seconds, yet an eternity also seemed to pass before Sensei looked their way.

Without letting go of All Might.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

The room turned shockingly cold in seconds as a spiky icicle path shot towards the teachers. They reached halfway across the room before Sensei’s hair flew up and eyes flashed bright red, just in time before he became a human popsicle.

“Todoroki, stop!”

Neither the erasure, nor Uraraka’s shout, deterred Todoroki, mismatched eyes blazing furiously as he stormed towards his teachers with frost-covered fists. 

Hitoshi also walked forward, as though he had a chance to hold back the angry boy. He probably could, since he never saw Todoroki ever use CQC.

But he found himself freezing in place, unable to chase him further. He wasn’t sure if it was the fierce aura that kept him at bay–

Or sheer awkwardness that made him want to escape this embarrassing nightmare.

Sensei finally peeled away from All Might, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “Todoroki–”

“What were you doing to him!? Huh?! Were you hurting him !?”

“No, it’s not what you think!” All Might said, immediately hopping up to his feet and rushing to become a human barrier between teacher and student, though his cuffed hands hampered him a bit. “Young Todoroki, please, calm down! He wasn’t doing anything to me, we were just…um…that is, it was just–”

“Kissing.”

Bakugo’s voice sent a chill up Hitoshi’s spine. He didn’t think Bakugo could get that cold or flat. A glance back saw him and other two approaching, but while Uraraka and Iida were tentative and shocked, Bakugo seemed unnaturally calm. Serene. 

Although, he couldn’t say that was a good thing. Even All Might paled as Bakugo came closer. Seeing the ex-Number One getting intimidated by a teenager would be funny, if Hitoshi got to spectate the scene from a safe, far-off distance.

But Todoroki had settled down. A bit. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to cover for him–”

“No, I swear, i-it’s nothing like that! I know what it must have looked like, but it wasn’t anything bad. Really!”

It took a while of intense staring before Todoroki relented. “All right…but if he actually hurt you…” he said, voice trailing to a growl while glaring daggers back at Sensei. 

All Might plastered on a smile. “I appreciate the concern, but believe me, your teacher would never hurt me. Well, not for good reason, and I can see why you’d think that, given last year–”

“That’s not helping,” Sensei said, sighing as Todoroki once again threw him a smoldering glare. Of course, he wasn’t the least bit intimidated, but he kept erasure activated as he addressed the angry boy. “Are you going to remain calm?”

Jaw tightening, Todoroki glanced back and forth at both teachers before he returned a curt nod.

His hair tumbled down, and his eyes flashed off. “Good. And the ice?”

A spurt of flame flashed from the blue eye as, without taking his eyes off Sensei, Todoroki slapped his palm on the icicle path and began melting it down.

“Now, I understand why you all were confused by what you saw–”

“Um, yeah just what the heck was that?!” Uraraka squeaked, her round face pinker than usual. “I-I mean, that wasn’t some sort of joke, right, sir?”

“Didn’t look like a joke to me,” Todoroki nearly growled.

“Hold on, everyone!” Iida boomed, chopping away any attempts to speak. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for what we just witnessed! P-Perhaps they were afflicted by a quirk before the mission, or they were trying out a new technique–”

“It’s not any of that. It’s an…um…”

“Arrangement,” Sensei mumbled.

“Y-Yeah, that’s it! It’s a private arrangement of, um, intimacy that we have–”

“So you’re boning each other,” Bakugo snapped.

All Might, turning tomato red, said nothing. 

Neither did Sensei, who just shut his eyes.

Yup, this was officially the worst day of his life, because now he was thinking about Sensei having sex. If the building could collapse right now, that would have been great.

“Boning? What does that mean?” Todoroki asked, his anger diminishing slightly into confusion. “You’re fighting with bones?”

“T-That’s not exactly it,” Uraraka mumbled, blushing almost as brightly as All Might. “Bakugo’s just being rude–”

“I’m saying they’re fucking each other, moron.”

Boy, a memory-wiping quirk would be so useful right now.

“Young Bakugo!” All Might gasped, those eerie blue eyes wide with hurt.

Interestingly, Bakugo didn’t meet them at all. In fact, he seemed to be looking at everyone and everything besides the former champion of the world.

“Fuc– You mean sex?! ” Iida sputtered, “B-B-But isn’t it inappropriate?! Aren’t you both, um…what I mean to say is…that is, the legality of this–”

“C-Come on, kids, you’re turning this into a big deal!” All Might said quickly. His arms jerked all of a sudden, as though he meant to move them, but they remained locked behind his back, causing him to sigh in frustration before continuing, “Look, it’s nothing too serious! It’s just two adults consenting to an…arrangement, and nothing more–”

“And what about the other teachers?! The principle? Are they aware–”

“ No ,” Sensei snapped, eyes narrowed. 

Nodding along, All Might added, in a kinder tone, “No, this doesn’t have anything to do with them, so they don’t need to know about this.”

“Why? If there’s nothing bad about what you’re doing, then shouldn’t you tell everyone?” Todoroki asked, like a child trying to understand adult secrets.

“I-It’s complicated…These sort of things are, um, harder to deal with than youngsters think. You’ll understand when you’re older–”

“Is it because of us?” Uraraka asked, worried. “Oh no! You don’t have to hide anything from us! We’re not going to judge!”

Jeez, they really couldn’t take the hint. “Just drop it already.”

“Thank you, Young Shinsou,” All Might said, almost breathlessly as he addressed Hitoshi for the first time in his life. It should have been a big deal, getting gratitude from the Symbol of Peace, but it actually was an underwhelming experience. 

But it was easier looking at him instead of Sensei.

Turning to everyone else, All Might continued, “I know it’s a lot to deal with. And I’m truly sorry you all had to see that. We should have known better–”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Bakugo muttered, crossing his arms.

“Ah, yes, this has been a valuable lesson in discretion!” All Might said, bowing his head, but not low enough to hide his pink face. “You all must have a lot of questions, but you really shouldn’t concern yourselves. This was an accident, nothing more, and you should just forget about this, and move on–”

“Are you,” Uraraka asked, “in love?”

All Might let out a small whimper, face flushing even deeper. “L-Love? T-That’s not–I mean, it’s just–it’s hard to explain…!”

But what captured Hitoshi’s attention was Sensei’s face, because this had to be the first time he looked shocked. Widened eyes and a stiff posture shocked, like a normal person caught off-guard.

And that was weird. Even weirder than what they interrupted, although that was still pretty bad by itself, and for being the cause of this whole debacle. Because Sensei was supposed to be…

Cool.

Which was odd to say about a man who napped in a sleeping bag, and sustained himself solely on nutrient packets. But he was so controlled. Nothing phased him, or elicited a strong reaction. Whenever Hitoshi successfully completed a maneuver, Sensei just offered a nod before they proceeded to the next lesson. Whenever 1-A did something outrageous, or Present Mic or Midnight bothered him, he just rolled his eyes or disciplined with a stern voice. Even when he babysat that girl with the horn, he didn’t exactly emanate with typical parental excitement, although he was warmer than usual with her. But he seemed so above normal human frailties like fear and embarrassment.

And lust.

But apparently he had needs like everyone else, enough to want to make out with All Might during a training exercise.

And now, he looked like a deer in the headlights, because one of his students asked if he was in love. Hitoshi averted his gaze, wishing for the ground to swallow him up, or a real villain to suddenly attack, or even Nezu to barge in telling him that the exercise was over, and he had to remain in General Studies. 

Anything to stop this extremely awkward moment.

“Who cares about this crap?” Bakugo said, exhaling loudly and rolling his eyes. “We get it, you’re both horny morons that’re doing each other. Can we move on?”

The irreverent comment helped break the tension, as Iida sprung to action. “That’s enough, Bakugo! You can’t disrespect our teachers in such a vulgar fashion!”

“Hey, they’re the ones dumb enough to get nasty on school grounds.”

“T-That’s no excuse! Now, apologize to them!”

“The hell I will!”

“We weren’t exactly getting nasty,” All Might muttered to the side. “We were only kissing–”

“ Enough .”

They straightened to attention, including Bakugo, although he still looked bored and surly. Uraraka did her best to keep a disciplined expression, but kept breaking out into sappy, girly smiles, while Iida, returning to his stiff and upright state, seemed to vibrate with tension. Todoroki just glared hotly.

And HItoshi? Since sinking into the floor wasn’t an option, he relented to staring at his shoes, keeping his expression as neutral as possible, but unable to stop the occasional grimace.

“Obviously we can’t do much to reverse our situation, so we have to accept that this unfortunate incident occurred. However, that doesn’t change the fact that what happened was a private moment between two consenting adults. That is all. I understand that you all have questions, but frankly, it’s none of your business, and you’re better off forgetting what you saw.”

< Yeah, like that’ll happen > Hitoshi thought, and shuddered once again at the vivid memory.  

“And, of course, we expect you all to stay quiet about this. That shouldn’t be too difficult on any of you…unless I’m wrong, and I need to reevaluate my trust in your integrity.”

While Hitoshi kept staring at the ground, he could tell that Sensei stared right at Iida when he spoke. Only one person cared about that stuff, who was the same person that would willingly blab. 

The brief hesitation confirmed this, as well as the follow-up answer: “N-No, sir. We all swear to remain discreet about this…matter. You can trust us.” 

“Yeah, your secret’s safe with us!” Uraraka giggled. Not the most assuring promise.

“Whatever,” Bakugo muttered, while Hitoshi nodded along mutely.

Todoroki didn’t answer at first. But after a glance at a pleading All Might, he murmured, “Yeah, I’ll stay quiet. But not for you, ” he added, before throwing a final glare at Sensei.

“Fine,” Sensei said, before heaving out a long, heavy sigh, and began digging through his belt. “I think this day has gone on long enough. We’ll call this match a draw, since you didn’t technically face me–”

“That’s bullshit! I’ll fight you right now, and earn that victory!”

“I’m not in the mood,” Sensei said as he aimed the vial, and squeezed some drops into his right eye. “You all completed the rest of the mission sufficiently. The other teachers and I will review the footage tonight, and give you feedback tomorrow morning. Now, dismissed.”

“Oh, er–yes, thank you, sir! We’ll, um, leave you alone, then…”

“Can you two wait until we leave before you start sucking face again?” 

“Bakugo!”

…That was it? 

That’s how this ended?

No, the exercise couldn’t end like this, could it? They didn’t even save the hostage properly. How was he supposed to be a decent pro if he couldn’t follow a mission to the very end, no matter the circumstances?

He looked at Sensei, now squeezing drops into his other eye. His heart began racing, as an insane idea struck him. It probably wouldn’t work…

…But it couldn’t hurt to try. “Hey, Sensei?”

Sensei glanced over, still blinking the saline into his eyes. “What?”

And then, stiffening, his eyes glazed over, caught under command. 

The eye drop vial fell to the floor. The carpet muffled most of the impact, yet it remained the loudest sound in the room, as everyone stared at either Eraserhead or Hitoshi in disbelief.

He had done it.

It had to be a dream. No way was this real.

Except, the edges of his mask imprinted lines on his cheeks, his stomach flipped around like a drunk frog, his eardrum still rang dully from the previous fights, and sweat - of exhaustion, or fear? - dribbled down his forehead along his jaw. All vivid sensations that he couldn’t ignore, meaning that he was awake.

Meaning that he had actually, for the first time since they met, successfully brainwashed Sensei.

Just like he was any other person. No one special.

He almost didn’t look at Sensei, yet the same audacity that coaxed him to use his quirk helped him peer back into that blank expression. He wondered if Sensei cursed him from within his mental prison. “We still need to save the hostage. So, can you unlock All Might’s handcuffs?”

Not his smoothest command ever, but Sensei obeyed without the slightest hesitation. 

After a bit of fiddling, the handcuffs fell to the floor, and All Might shook out his freed hands, rolling his shoulders and sighing with audible relief. Then, he beamed brightly at Hitoshi. “Excellent work, Young Shinsou! I think that means your team beat the boss, and completed the mission!”

Hitoshi strongly considered leaving on the brainwashing to give himself a running start. But he didn’t want to look lame in front of the others, especially not Bakugo, so he dropped his hold on Sensei, and tensed up in anticipation of the fallout.

Life quickly flooded through Sensei’s face, which said a lot. Sensei had such controlled expressions, so in theory, the change should be subtle–but no, there was too much intelligence and domineering presence to ignore the switch from obedient drone to cognizant, frightening teacher.

Yet, Sensei didn’t rush him, arms or scarf swinging. Nor did he start with the angry threats. Instead, after assessing Hitoshi - quivering in his boots - for some time, he finally broke out with…

A smile. A very small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Not bad.”

Hitoshi grinned back, even though his mask concealed it. Sensei probably knew. 

He continued grinning as he followed the others out the door, and through the bunker. The return trip to the elevator was much shorter and simpler than when they arrived, thanks to the lack of traps or robots redirecting them into other hallways. 

Or maybe he was too caught up in his own pride to notice anything. It was just like the end of the Joint Exercise, when Sensei and Vlad King announced that he would join the hero course–but even more exhilarating.

“Shinsou, that was amazing! I can’t believe you did that!”

“Yes,” Iida said, finally removing his helmet and offering up a big, almost paternal smile. “That was quite the improvisation! And daring!”

“Good job on not choking.”

He just performed the single riskiest move in his life, and not only succeeded, but survived. Bakugo’s jabs could no longer compare, and Hitoshi found himself accepting all low blows with monkish tranquility. 

Plus, it almost sounded genuine? It didn’t carry the same fire or antagonism, just uttered in a grumpy mumble. But Hitoshi would take what he could get.

“And I can’t believe what we saw today! Eee, that was the cutest thing ever! I bet they really are dating, even if they don’t want to admit it!”

…Well, there went his victory high. It was nice while it lasted.

“Uraraka!” Iida snapped, blushing bright pink. “We promised them we wouldn’t say anything! It’s highly inappropriate to disclose about our teacher’s privacy like that!”

“Just to other people! Don’t worry, my lips are totally sealed on this! But I’m sure that one day, they’ll profess their love to everyone!”

“...Do you really think it’s love?” Todoroki asked, sounding like a kid again, but more confused. Talk about a complete 180 from his previous behavior. 

“Todoroki! Are you becoming a gossip now!?”

“It totally is! Remember how they used to be at the start of the year? Before, Mr. Aizawa couldn’t stand being near All Might, but lately they’ve become a lot nicer to each other! And they kissed each other because they couldn’t wait to be alone together! Aw, that’s so romantic!”

“Get over it already,” Bakugo muttered. And for once, Hitoshi agreed with him, even if he’d never admit it in a million years.

But seriously… All Might ? 

There were rumors about Sensei being an item with Present Mic, or Midnight…or both, which seemed way more credible given their close bond. They were the only people to tease or poke Sensei without severe punishments, or hang around him in their spare time. And it helped that both were fairly attractive, once you got past the weird hairdos and overwhelming amount of leather.

But All Might? With that skeletal body and gaunt face? And wasn’t he super old?

Then again, Hitoshi had never really cared about All Might in the first place. He had been too much of a godly figure to humanize, tailored to behave as a safe and admirable public figure. It’d be like lusting after a statue--and some people did, but he wouldn’t. That wasn’t his thing.

Besides, Hitoshi had never cared for big muscles. He liked his interests...smaller. But not too skinny. No, a bit of softness was nice. Definitely not so frail as to break under a touch, like present-day All Might, but much more tempting to hold. 

Kind of like--

“Hey everyone! You guys finally finished!”

They had all just stepped out of the elevator when the green-haired boy called out to them, running and waving, freckled face beaming. It was like nothing made him happier than seeing them all.

“You guys were amazing! You finished a lot faster than I thought, so you kind of caught me off-guard with the traps! And I wasn’t trying to hurt you guys badly or anything, but Mr. Aizawa told me to give you a challenge, so I did, but, boy, you guys did great! I was so impressed--”

As Midoriya rambled, the team of five studied him. They were all so different from one another, coming from separate walks of life that, in a different reality, would never have crossed. Their thoughts and interests were different, their styles and behaviors; and even their brand of heroics differed in philosophy and motivation.

But for a few seconds, they shared the same thought. For a few seconds, they thought back to their teachers’ private kiss--but imagined themselves doing that with Midoriya. 

And for a few seconds, they liked that thought a lot.

Then, Bakugo broke their collective trance by shoving down Midoriya’s head. “You shitty nerd! You were responsible for all those stupid traps?!”

“Ahh, I’m sorry! It’s just that I was asked--”

“Bakugo, stop hurting him!” Uraraka said, puffing out her cheeks.

“SHUT UP! Stupid Deku betrayed us, he deserves to be punished!”

“No punishing each other on school grounds! At least wait until we’re back in the dorms!”

“You could have used stronger traps next time, Midoriya. And put them in places where we can’t disable them easily--”

“STOP GIVING HIM ADVICE ON HOW TO FIGHT US!”

As he watched the bickering with a smirk, Hitoshi’s heart grew...warm. 

This class had changed so much from the Sports Festival. Back then, they were all so determined to trip and fight each other for a shot of attention; but now they worked together without a thought of personal glory. Such different, strong personalities shouldn’t get along, but at some point in the past few months, the competitive spirit had gone away.

Except for one of them.

“Hey, Bakugo.”

“What?!”

And, just like with Sensei, the ferocious glare fell immediately to a blank gaze, and his body went limp.

Midoriya dipped out of the headlock, gasping for air. But as he recovered, he beamed at Hitoshi, bright as the sun. “T-Thanks! That’s twice now you’ve saved me! You’re already turning out to be a great hero, Shinsou-kun!”

He should have shot back some cool response, but his heart fluttered so much, it made him dizzy. He could only offer back another dumb grin to the odd boy so passionately invested in his dream. Sensei had given him the skills and teachings for him to get this far, but Midoriya made him want to keep pursuing his dream.

One day, he’d like to properly thank him for that. 

Then Bakugo socked him in the face.

Chapter Text

“That could have been worse.”

“It could have gone better, too,” Shouta said, glaring at the door, waiting for one of them to burst back in again. “That shouldn’t have happened at all. It was completely reckless on our part.”

And by that, he meant his. The incident was completely his fault, there was no question about it. He knew the kids were in the building, and wouldn’t take long to get through the traps. He should have known better.

But his pride won out. Against better judgment, he couldn’t wait until the end of the exercise to pounce on that cocky mouth.

“It’s hard to say who I feel more sorry for, us or them,” Yagi said, attempting to smile. “They sure won’t forget about this anytime soon. But are you okay?”

Shouta blinked, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you almost got turned into a human popsicle. That had to be a little frightening!”

He’d be insulted, if Yagi didn’t sound so sincere to an almost comical extent. “It’s not the first time he tried that on me, and I suspect that it won’t be the last. But it’ll be a while before a student gets the drop on me.”

“Except for Yaoyorozu.”

Without hesitating, he reached up and flicked the big forehead. There was no anger toward that taunt; her success still ranked among his proudest moments of teaching that it had been worth the humiliation. He just needed to keep Yagi humble.

“Ow!”

“We’re done for the day,” he said, jerking his head at the door. “You can go, I’ll deal with everything–”

“No, I’ll stay! I don’t really have any other plans today. If I went now, I’d just be sitting in my room, bored out of my mind.”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be bored here, too.”

“But I can keep you company! Er, not that I plan on bothering you, I just mean, you know…!” 

He really was like a pet sometimes: Eager, compliant, reliant on praise…

< Cute >

“Do what you want,” Shouta grumbled while taking a seat behind the desk. Arguing would just waste time and energy, so he let the stubborn old fool twiddle his thumbs in silence.

But he did feel a little guilty about the lack of chairs in the room. A decent man would offer up his seat to his older, sickly companion, but he could picture Yagi fervently declining, mostly in an effort to affirm his strength (or what remained of it). 

The best solution was to finish everything quickly, and so he did. 

Soon, the office fell into relative silence. The walls thrummed from machinery and air conditioning, and his fingers pecked at the keyboard, but otherwise Shouta worked in a blissful peace so rare for his recent life. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed such quiet during waking hours.

He didn’t even mind sharing it with another person, because Yagi’s presence quickly faded into the background. Talk about a difference from the staff room, where the other teachers filled up dead air with their bad jokes, or played games with loud, repetitive, annoying sound effects. Meanwhile with Eri, you weren’t supposed to tune out a child, even if she was playing or drawing by herself; he might pass the time by grading papers, but he’d always stay alert to her every moment to heed any warning sign, or attend to a request.

But Yagi let Shouta work uninterrupted, even disappearing from peripheral sight. It was nice.

Nice enough to take advantage of. He had only meant to finish a few tasks, such as emailing himself camera footage, and shutting down the lair. However, as he surveyed the uploading footage, his fingers itched, until he started typing up a summary of the exercise—

Which turned into paragraphs for each student participant—

Which turned into a multi-page evaluation of Shinsou that notated every single mistake committed that should have been this or that way, constructed a new training regimen…

And commended him for his successful maneuver that completed the exercise.

As much as he hated to admit it, the brainwashing had disturbed Shouta. The hairs on his arms prickled from a chill as he recalled his mind blanking to fixate on a single voice. It was even worse to have a small preservation of his consciousness remain fully aware of his predicament:

Trapped. Helpless. Like that time he lay crumbled beneath the Nomu, or watched the populated Sky Egg crack and tumble from the sky–

< Or bowed before his friend’s school photo, surrounded by flowers, while a cloudy-haired woman wailed loudly behind him >

But this had been almost worse, because it robbed his agency. 

…Was this how others felt against his Erasure? 

“Quirk” was adopted as the popular vernacular for a reason. “Meta-ability” detached a person from their innate powers, which applied in the old days when they manifested in only handfuls of people, and behaved as a reflection of pre-existing traits. 

But as powers ingrained further into the human population, they molded people from birth. You now had talents, identity, and even destiny placed upon you thanks to your special ability.

Your quirk. 

And getting locked out from your quirk would probably feel like brainwashing: Having your own body betray you without being able to do anything.

No wonder he could easily train Shinsou, and it wasn’t just because of their similar dispositions (or appreciation for cats). Their quirks, while completely different in function and activation, carried the same undesired burden of impeding others. 

Which supposedly made him a good teacher, like a certain someone used to say. Nezu certainly seemed happy to hire him, saying his quirk perfectly countered rowdy students gifted with the coveted permission of using their quirks. 

And he couldn’t argue against the logic, which was why he stuck around for so long. No matter how aggravating things became, he accepted the fact that his quirk led him here, just like it led him to the path of a hero as a teenager. Some people might find the notion of locked destinies discouraging, of having purpose assigned rather than discovered, but Shouta found comfort in simplicity.

So what did it feel like to lose your quirk, even for a brief moment? To be left without purpose? 

And what about those that lost it permanently?

Shaking himself out of the trance, he checked the time. Damn, he took longer than expected. He sent himself the notes, and then initiated shutdown. They had only fifteen minutes to get out before the power switched off, which seemed like a small amount of time, but Shouta almost wished it was shorter. The machinery might be rudimentary by UA standards, nothing in comparison to the USJ or even Sports Festival, but it was still full of dangerous traps. 

And with students living on campus 24/7 these days, they had to take extra precaution against adolescent stupidity. Just last week, some second years from Gen Studies snuck out to Ground Gamma, and severely injured themselves after blowing out some pipes. Imagine those same students stumbling across an active villain lair without supervision? Or even his own knuckleheads that never failed to wind up in trouble. That was a liability nightmare waiting to happen, so the sooner he locked this place down, the better.

And the sooner they left, the better. Shouta didn’t relish the thought of wandering the locked halls blind, searching for a signal to phone for help.

He found the older man sitting on the floor, leaning against the desk. The angle made it hard to study his expression, but he seemed lost in thought, staring at nothing while his phone rested in his lap.

“Oi.”

Yagi shook out of his trance, and glanced back at Shouta. “Ah, ready to get out of here?”

Nodding, Shouta stood up and stretched, rolling his head along his shoulders. “Did you sit there the whole time?”

“Actually, I tried passing the time with sudoku at first,” Yagi said, waving his phone to show off a screen with half of the spaces filled with numbers. “But then my mind started wandering a bit.”

“You seem to have a habit of doing that.”

“Ha, what can I say, I’ve got a loud brain!”

Shouta could relate. There were many nights he’d spent with his eyes shut, but his head too busy to drift off, no matter how much his body ached from hard patrols and classwork. “So, what were you thinking about?”

“Oh, the usual: The weather, dinner plans, and the current mess of society,” Yagi said, trying to keep his voice light and airy as he rose to his feet, wincing at the audible creaks. “But honestly, I was thinking about the kids.”

Of course. “You’re worried about what happened.”

“Aren’t you?”

Shouta shrugged. “There’d be inconvenient consequences if any of them gossiped. I doubt that the principal would fire us, seeing as he doesn’t care about these things. But even if he did, he doesn’t have the legal grounds to do anything. We would just have to deal with unwarranted attention.”

Yamada and Kayama were already insufferable enough, but they’d be downright unbearable once Shouta had to confirm their nosy suspicions. They might actually push him to treat this as an official relationship, like using annoying romantic labels, and completing inane milestones.

And that was the surface level trouble. Once more students caught wind of the truth, It wouldn’t be hard for the secret to leak out to the public, and draw in outdated opinions from paparazzi, politicians, and parents. 

“Actually, I was thinking about the kids’ reactions,” Yagi said softly. “They must be so confused by everything. Don’t you think we should have explained ourselves a bit better?”

“We told them that our business doesn’t affect them, because it doesn’t. That’s all they need to understand.”

“I don’t agree.”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“They’re under our care, which makes us their surrogate parents, right? And any kid, no matter how old, gets uncomfortable when discovering their parents’ secret lives. So that makes it our responsibility to make sure they’re handling this all right.”

Shouta walked to the double doors, and held one open until Yagi caught up. “I’ve always held the opinion that we’re responsible for our own feelings, and no one else’s.”

“You’re probably right. But everybody can also use a little guidance now and then, especially when you’re a hormonal teenager! That’s what teachers do, isn’t it?”

“...Fair point.”

Once they shut and locked the room, they walked side-by-side through the hallway, footsteps echoing. Yagi’s only, of course, thanks to those boat-sized loafers. Shouta rarely went anywhere these days without his stealthy combat boots, because you never knew what sort of trouble you could run into out on the streets.

“Uraraka, we probably don’t need to worry about, besides her possibly telling the other girls. But I don’t think it’d be awful if they found out. Heh, they’d probably insist on planning our wedding!” Yagi said, chuckling while his cheeks turned pink. 

Shouta, on the other hand, scowled as he pictured the girls and Kayama recreating a sappy ceremony right out of a terrible movie. They would probably force him to dance, too, in front of hundreds of guests. Talk about a nightmare.

On the other hand, Eri would make a cute flower girl. 

…And he didn’t completely hate the image of Yagi in bridal wear, traditional or Western.

“But the boys are a different story, which doesn’t surprise me,” Yagi said, sighing. 

Shouta nodded. “It’s always been harder for men to process same-sex relationships, especially when its our own gender.”

“I know what you mean,” Yagi said glumly. Then, he frowned. “But does that still apply to boys today? Kids these days seem to embrace all sorts of identities and lifestyles. If the rest found out, they’d be shocked…but then they’d probably get over it.”

Shouta considered his words, and found himself agreeing. It was hard imagining any of the other kids reacting too strongly, or hatefully. At worst, Mineta would act disgusted, but Shouji would gag him with a spare hand while giving them five thumbs up. He could already hear Kirishima cheering them for being so “manly” about finding love, Kaminari and Sero cracking jokes about having new parents, and Sato insisting on baking a cake for the wedding–

And why did he keep returning to that idea?

Steering his mind away from visions of white lace, Shouta cleared his throat and said, “Then how do you explain today’s intruders? I’d say they had some strong reactions.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m worried about them. Iida’s especially going to take a while to warm up to the idea of us. I guess that’s to be expected from someone so traditional.”

Which had always baffled Shouta, considering how modern his older brother behaved. When Tensei found out about Shouta’s preferences - by accident, thanks to a collaborative stake-out that had Shouta bored enough to let his eye wander - he just joked about feeling offended that he wasn’t Shouta’s type.

In fact, the reputation of previous Ingeniums always painted them as forward-thinkers, so the latest model seemed to have self-imposed his Confucian approach to life. 

But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since it meant that they could trust Iida to keep his mouth shut. If Shouta had required a blood oath of silence, Iida might ask how much would suffice. 

Still, it made one think if the moralistic boy was truly outraged…or repressing his own curiosity.

“He says that he’s working on loosening up, so this will be one more thing he’ll need to adapt to. We’ll just have to give him some space to deal with this. But,” Shouta said, staring hard at Yagi, “be honest: You’re more worried about Bakugo and Todoroki.”

Yagi looked away.

“Hmph, figures. You dote on them almost as much as Midoriya. But I suppose their reactions were interesting. You don’t often see Todoroki explode with rage, or Bakugo stay so calm. Looks like they’re rubbing off on each other, thanks to all the time they spend together.” 

“Much to Bakugo’s annoyance,” Yagi said, chuckling slightly. “But you’re right, they acted so differently than usual, and all over a simple kiss.”

< And a bit of groping s >

Shouta ruffled his hair as he said, “It’s probably because of who they walked in on. If I was with anyone else, I doubt that they would have cared as much. Or if things were reversed, with me tied up in the chair, they’d be fine. As long as their favorite teacher wasn’t in trouble.”

“T-That’s not true!”

“It is,” Shouta said simply without resentment, because he felt none. He always valued respect over popularity, especially in regards to the students, ensuring that they wouldn’t dream of stepping out of line under his watch. “You know Todoroki wouldn’t dare use his quirk on you.”

“...Okay, you’re right about that,” Yagi said, trying not to pout. “But didn’t his behavior seem a bit extreme to you? Like he was incredibly upset or something.” 

“The ice was kind of a big hint.”

“You know what I mean. He was angry, but not in a disgusted way. Not with me.” He exhaled, his bangs fluttering slightly from the huff. “This will sound crazy, but I almost felt like the owner of a possessive guard dog, or, hell, the single parent of a kid. Like he saw you as a real threat, and he wanted—no, needed to save me.”

“Maybe you are.”

“I’m being serious here–”

“So am I. The situation triggered something within him to act in that particular way. Probably has to do with his past. Which you’d know about more than me.”

Yagi shook his head. “Can’t say I do. It wasn’t like I was close to Endeavor or anything. I didn’t even know he had a kid, let alone four, until his youngest showed up. So I hardly know much about his upbringing.”

“But Midoriya knows.”

After hesitating for a bit, rubbing the back of his neck, Yagi nodded and answered shamefully, “And he told me. It wasn’t much, and I don’t think we’ll ever get the full story…but evidently Endeavor wasn’t the best father. Or husband. In fact, he’s the reason that the mother is in the hospital.”

No surprise there. Shouta normally didn’t care about rumors–but he’d also be lying if he said he completely ignored the ones surrounding Endeavor, and his mysterious wife. It wasn’t like any of those were completely out of left field either, given his natural ferocity. Nobody could mistake that for an act, not like Gang Orca who knew when to switch things off. Endeavor simply wasn’t that charismatic, or emotionally adept. 

It was just interesting how those rumors seemed to disappear once Endeavor got promoted. 

But even without rumors, Shouta suspected that something was amiss with that family, ever since the start of the school year when he had to correspond with the older sister instead of the usual parental figure. And when he took Todoroki to his home after Endeavor’s big show at Kyuushu, he acted more like a bitter soldier sent on his second deployment, rather than a son concerned for his father. 

“So Todoroki’s projecting. He sees his favorite hero tied up and helpless, and he thinks back to his mother. Me playing the villain equates to his father, so he attacks on instinct.”

“I can’t say I’d look as good in an apron,” Yagi said, smiling weakly, before turning somber again. “But I think you’re right. God, it’s hard. I want to help him so bad, but I just don’t know if I can. Or should. It feels wrong to just leave him, but it feels just as bad to go up and start talking about his past, when he never willingly shared anything with us.”

“That’s what makes teaching high schoolers so hard. It’s knowing when to take a step forward, and when to wait for them.”

“It’s not for the weak-willed, that’s for sure. Not if you want to be a good teacher.”

They finally arrived at the elevator, and Shouta pressed the button to summon it. “Even if we can’t speak about family, it’d be a good idea to talk to him about his impulses. That instinct to save others is good, but we don’t want him hurting an innocent man for the crime of holding hands with his girlfriend.” 

“Good idea–although, maybe I should take care of that. Otherwise, you might need to keep erasure on the whole time!”

Shouta snorted, “SInce you insist on playing therapist, you can handle Bakugo as well.”

The chuckling stopped immediately. “Er, on second thought, why don’t we switch? Or, better yet, I’ll talk to Shinsou for you–”

“Why? Are you implying I have some reason to avoid him?”

“Come on, I know you’re just as embarrassed as I am.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, he definitely was. But not too embarrassed to brainwash you!”

The uncomfortable reminder returned, numbness sweeping through his limbs as though locked under command by another. So fleeting, yet terrifying all the same.

Scowling, fist clenching at his side, he snapped, “At least I didn’t lose his admiration by being helpless.”

The words sounded so childish. Whiny, even, fit for a tantruming middle schooler that had to resort to cheap blows instead of more clever insults.

Which was why he kept his head down as he stepped into the elevator, unable to look up and see the obvious hurt on Yagi’s face. He almost expected the older man to hang back, and catch the next ride up.

But no, those loafers also stepped inside, hesitantly, and the doors closed on them. Shouta reached for the buttons, but Yagi, exuding a sad aura, got to it first.

The elevator was a large, old model meant to carry a decent amount of people, equipment, and robots. It only had two floors to attend, but it traveled through one hundred meters of solid underground. It carried them slowly to the lobby, the machinery whirring and creaking loudly around them.

But not enough to drown out the thick tension.

“Sorry,” Shouta muttered. “That was wrong to say.”

“No, I started it, so I should apologize. Besides, you’re absolutely right,” Yagi said, his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. “Bakugo’s grown up so much, yet he still values power. That’s why he admired me so much–or, I should say, why he admired All Might. But I keep breaking that illusion.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Yagi heaved another sigh. “Maybe I should have been more honest with everyone from the beginning. I thought I had to keep the lie going so everything could stay the same. But if I just told everyone the truth, then people could have adjusted, and prepared better.”

“You did what you thought was right.”

Yagi scoffed, “Now you’re just lying to be nice. I thought you didn’t do that?”

“I said you thought it was right. I didn’t say you were.” Trying to soften his voice, he added, “You were trying to be strong for us.”

“Fat load of good that did.”

“It did, ” Shouta said, firmly, turning fully to face Yagi. “That fight with All for One, that was five years ago?”

“Six–”

“So the students were young enough to start dreaming about becoming pros. You staying as All Might, idiotic as it was, inspired them all through middle school. They’re here because of All Might.”

“And now that he’s gone?” he asked softly.

Shouta shrugged. “They’ll have to make their path, like everyone does. They’re learning from other pros, and realizing what kind of heroes they want to be. They don’t need us anymore.” 

Yagi’s expression fell.

“Then, they’ll retire, and learn how to live a new life after heroics, just like their teacher did. Because this can’t be the only thing we’re made for.”

Sometimes, it was amazing how much this man made him so irrational. He would try to speak simple comfort, yet his heart swelled from honest emotions, full of ridiculous desire for his hopes to come true. He never pinned his hopes on All Might, yet he started doing so with Yagi, needing him to survive and prove that good could triumph, even if it meant something as simple as living another peaceful day. 

And smiling. Just like that small, yet radiant smile that broke out on Yagi’s face. “You really are a sweet guy, Aizawa-kun.”

“I’ll kill you if you tell anyone,” he said, glad as the dark timbre returned to his voice. 

The elevator finally arrived at the lobby, bouncing as it settled before opening its doors. A modern elevator would have shot up forty floors within the same time span, so it was a good thing they had no other obligation for the day.

As they stepped out, Yagi grasped his shoulder, until Shouta looked up at him. “I am sorry for the comment about Shinsou. I haven’t been brainwashed, so I don’t know how bad it feels.”

Shouta nodded in acceptance. “It was upsetting. But,” he soon added, “I am proud of him. It’s the first time he ever tried that on me. Even if he didn’t succeed, it still would have been a good sign of his progress. Now, he doesn’t have to hold himself back for anyone’s sake.”

“That’s just how I felt last summer. As much as I hated you for doing that to us, I realized you did us a huge favor.” Yagi’s grin widened. “We raised some good kids!”

“Yeah,” Shouta said, barely able to hold back his own smile.

“And you know, we’re not half bad as psychoanalysts. If we ever get some free time, maybe we should write a book together. Maybe discuss the mind of a teenage hero.”

“I’d rather just use that time to sleep.”

As though some deity heard him, the lights in the corridor blinked out completely, leaving them in total darkness.

“Guess we took longer than expected.”

“Shit, that was quick! Erm, can we get out? Or will the doors be stuck? Do we need to call anyone?”

“Stop panicking,” he demanded as he opened his phone. Lucky for him a signal persisted, but barely. He selected the most recent number on his list - Midoriya - and typed out a quick message to come back and open the doors. Though some time had passed, he suspected that kids hadn’t strayed too far from the lair; not like the teachers, who were probably already cracking open beers at the dorm. 

He then led Yagi down the long corridor, his vision already adjusting to the dark thanks to his night patrols. Even if the path to the entrance wasn’t as straightforward, he would have navigated without much issue. 

Right behind him clomped Yagi–based on the faint wispy sound, he had a palm pressed against the wall for assistance. Normally having someone hover behind him in close proximity unnerved Shouta, being such an obvious opening for an attack. The presence being so tall didn’t help matters, since it caused Yagi to breathe right on his neck–not even his scarf could stop all the puffs of air.

But if anyone had to cover his back, he’d accept the former Symbol of Peace. 

“You aren’t weak.”

There was a pause, likely out of surprise that Shouta spoke unprompted. Then, Yagi chuckled, “Yeah? Then I guess I’ll just go put on my suit again once we get out of here.”

“You know what I mean. You’re not lesser for the way you are now…or what we do in privacy.”

Yagi fell quiet again for a bit, before he spoke, “I should say ‘I know’, but the truth is that I really don’t. It’s been so long since I couldn’t defend myself and others, that it’s hard being a civilian. I’m not even a regular one, not with all the things wrong with me.” 

Shouta thought about protesting the last remark, but knew it would be disingenuous.

“I know it’s been a few months, but it takes a while to adjust, you know? Going from being on top of the world for forty years, to everyone treating me like some delicate flower. I can’t even laugh too hard without worrying about passing out from blood loss. It’s hard to not feel a little pathetic.” 

“I’m surprised you never tried to switch things between us.”

“Not what you expected, right? Honestly, it’s just because you made the first move, and I didn’t have a damn clue on what to do. You know that.”

He did, never failing to find some amusement and accomplishment, in taking the virginity of a middle-age man.

“But I’m glad you did. I mean, I’d probably enjoy myself, too, if we ever flipped things! But it really feels good on my end. Makes me feel…well, wanted.”

Shouta glanced back at Yagi. Night vision or not, it was easy to detect the glow of those blue eyes in the dark. “And the other stuff? You never said anything about it. You realize that you can speak up if it bothers you, it’s not going to hurt my feelings–”

“Oh, I know. I guess I grew to like them. They kind of feel, um…right, actually.” Blushing, almost bright enough to see through the darkness, he added, “Because it’s with you. You let me feel safe.”

Shouta stiffened, a chill trailing up his spine.

Then, burying his hot cheeks into his scarf, he mumbled, “Sap,” and marched a little faster towards the entrance, the tall frame glowing like a thin beacon from the outside sun.

“Do you think we could have worked together? As villains, I mean? Could we have been accomplices?”

“I thought you saw yourself as a loner.”

Yagi, apparently feeling bold, left the wall and walked in pace with Shouta. “Yeah, I suppose I have that streak in me. Also because I don’t think I would have found a lot of like-minded individuals. But I think you would have been an exception. A fellow outlaw, wanting to correct corruption.” He grinned, square teeth neat and white in the darkness. “Could be the set-up for a thrilling romance.”

“There you go, dreaming again.”

“Yeah, my bad habit.”

“But probably.”

“Eh?”

Scratching his chin, Shouta said, “Assuming we ever crossed paths, then it seems likely that we would have collaborated, given our similar philosophies.”

A skinny elbow nudged his side. “We’d be quite the odd couple, wouldn’t we? The old brain and brawn. But then what would you bring to the table?”

Cheeky.

He paused, just a few meters shy of the door. Then, smirking, he walked at Yagi until the older man’s back hit the wall, and propped up an arm next to him. It hardly made for an efficient trap, as Yagi could easily escape from the left side.

But the effect clearly worked, as Yagi stayed pinned to the wall by his own violation.

“Maintaining you, of course. Somebody has to save reckless guys like you from yourselves.”

It was a good thing he had grown accustomed to the dark, so he could see Yagi’s expression turn from surprised to coy. “Then it’s good for me that you’re so great at it,” he said softly, before cupping Aizawa’s jaw, bending down, and kissing him–

Just as doors open, washing them in the golden light of late afternoon. “Hey All Might! I didn’t know you were–wait, WHAT!?”

He really needed to work on his timing.