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Chapter 17: CLASSROOM RUMBLE

He woke up to the sound of his most hated nemesis: the alarm clock. Not that he hated Mondays, but waking up with a headache from a hangover from two days ago was one of the worst things from being 30. He was supposed to wake up in 30 min. ago to shave, but seeing the situation, if it wasn't illegal to look this disheveled, this was the look he was sporting for the day. After getting ready, he dragged his feet down and headed to the main building of UA.

"Morning hobo," Kayama greeted him when Shota entered the teachers' lounge. "Still trashed from Friday?"

"Leave him alone, Mid," Yamada answered, sitting with his feet on the table. "He was born trashed. It's his quirk" they both burst into laughter.

"Coffee." was all Shota murmured, walking towards the small coffee station. Both of his highschool friends stared in silence as he got his first sip of coffee. What was up with these two today? He made sure to flip a finger at them.

"Sssssso?" Yamada inquired. "What's her name?"

Shota raised an eyebrow, unbothered. The fact that he was taking his time drinking his coffee was almost enraging for the other two.

"Spill it already you sly dog," Kayama ordered licking her lips with anticipation.

"What am I being framed for this time?" Shota asked, pouring more coffee on his cup.

"My boy Max at the club told me you ended hooking up with the cutest broad of the night." Present Mic autotuned his voice to make it sound way more annoying than usual.

"I thought Kayama had claimed that title and beheaded any contenders years ago." Shota carelessly answered, arranging some papers inside a file, while the light heat behind his ears hurried him to end the conversation.

"SO IT IS TRUE!" Yamada's voice started raising, Kayama gave little hops and giggled in excitement.

"Bullshit," Aizawa answered as he rearranged his scarf. "Don't you have a class to teach?" He grabbed his files and walked towards the door.

"Oh c'mon Eraser, please!" Kayama exclaimed. "I saw you two dancing all snuggly together!"

He sighed under his scarf as he walked upstairs to the 6th floor, remembering even the most subtle thing of his encounter that night. How heavy she had felt once she had fallen over him, her thick legs surrounded by fishnets. The pleasing memory vanished with a head nod once he remembered how disappointed the blonde looked right before abandoning him in the middle of the dancefloor.

"It was nothing," Shota answered, more to himself than the other two.

"Who is she? Are you seeing her again?" Yamada inquired, trying to keep the pace up.

"I don't even know her name." the scarfed man replied, his hands in his pockets as he carelessly walked upstairs. "Not that it matters much."

"Why? Don't you want to see her again?" Kayama asked intrigued.

Shota remained quiet. Not sure if that was the true reason. It was not that he hadn't thought about that mysterious encounter, he had. He was only a man after all, and that is not how the night would've ended if she hadn't run away. Truth is, once she was out of the picture, the thoughts troubling his mind before he met her had come back to haunt him the rest of the night.

Thankfully, Yamada and Kayama realized he wasn't going to share anything else about the subject, which made them lose interest in him. The three of them walked through the hall together, each heading to their respective classrooms.

[Successful transaction to your account: ¥10,000.00]

Momo grinned at her phone when she received the bank notification. The payment from this weekend had finally been done. She had texted Beverly first thing on Saturday, accepting to model for some pictures whenever it was possible, to which she had answered almost immediately, booking Momo that very same afternoon for a photo shoot. They met at a set downtown, where they had taken pictures of Momo working out on designer's sportswear attire. Apparently, they wanted to use the photographs for the issue they had done with the rest of her classmates back at UA.

No, modeling wasn't exactly a career Momo wanted to pursue, but the incident with Eraserhead a night before had sparked a wildfire inside her powered by rage that had made her realize things needed to change. And she had a plan, and for that plan, she needed money.

The young woman lightly squished her phone, everything was going according to the plan.

"Hey, blondie." Jiro greeted her, winking and grinning. Momo offered her one confident smile. "I didn't see you after the show! Where were you?"

"I got a little dizzy and had to get back to the dorms, sorry!" she apologized. Jiro shrugged her shoulders, dismissing her friend's apology. The purple-haired rockstar sat on Momo's desk.

"It's fine, did you at least have a good time?" Jiro asked in excitement. "Anything interesting?"

Momo was about to answer something vague but polite as always until a tall, dark, and manly figure appeared on the window. Walking as carelessly as ever with his pitch-black mane in a low bun, Mr. Aizawa was heading to the classroom door. Beside him, leaving almost every student breathless with every step she gave, was Midnight. She seemed to find something very funny about the man walking beside her. For some reason, a light blush crossed the man's face.

Without noticing, Momo's well-practiced 'noh face' that her mother had taught her years ago had melted.

"You okay?"

Momo looked back at Jiro, rearranging her polite smile.

"Sure!" and with that, she went to her own desk.

"Silence." Momo heard him say as a greeting to the class. She didn't even lift her face towards him. What a douche. She could only imagine him saying that first thing when waking up. Not that she was picturing waking up next to him. No. He was probably waking up next to Midnight. How awful for her to wake up next to someone so stoic. So unimpressed with life. Midnight was probably constantly bored to death next to someone that showed so little emotion.

"Yaoyorozu, Momo?" his voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"What?" she answered in concern. "Sorry I wasn't paying attention. Can you repeat the question?" Momo hurried to apologize.

The light laughter from everyone surrounded her like ants surrounding a lollipop.

He raised an eyebrow, letting a subtle smile curve his lips.

"What happened to the Hero Council in 1984?" Mr. Aizawa asked.

"I...uhm…" Momo started, information rushing through her head faster than Iida and his whole family. Everyone looked at her with conspirative smiles. Bakugo rolled his eyes, even Midoriya was holding his giggling back. "I think-"

"Relax," Mr. Aizawa interrupted her. The whole classroom finally cracked-up. "It was just roll-call." and with that, he winked at her with a smug smile, clearly satisfied with his little ruse.

God how she envied Midnight.

Momo looked down at her notes, trying to hide the raging blush on her face. What the heck? Why was she so nervous and jumpy all of a sudden?

"Anyone know anything about Mineta?" Mr. Aizawa asked, going through his roaster one last time.

Before anyone could explain their classmate's absence, the roar coming from the hall made everyone face the window. There it was, the purple ball-headed boy, trying to escape a stampede of freshmen students, mostly male.

"GET OFF ME! IT'S MINE!" everyone inside heard Mineta cry out. They seemed to be battling over something on Mineta's little chubby hands.

Professor Aizawa crossed the classroom clearly annoyed by the amount of noise the mob was making. The sea of questions surrounding Mineta amplified when Aizawa opened the door.

"DO YOU KNOW HER?"

"ARE YOU FRIENDS WITH HER?"

"COULD YOU INTRODUCE ME TO HER?"

Right before he could speak, one of the freshmen with a flexibility quirk swung his frantic arms, giving Aizawa a clean punch in the nose with one of them.

Everyone held their breath at the scene. Mr. Aizawa's head slowly looked back at the students outside his classroom. No one moved a finger, everyone held back their laughs.

"What. the going. ON?" with every word his voice transitioned into yelling. His hair started to levitate as his eyes turned red. The scarf around his neck menacingly came to life, only to sharply grasp Mineta by the ankle.

The purple-haired man-child hung upside down like Achilles before being baptized on the Estigia river.

"Sorry, Mr. Aizawa. I didn't mean to be late." Mineta lisped frantically.

"There she is." a skinny boy whispered in excitement as he spied through the door. Others tried to take a peek too.

"What's the meaning of this?" Aizawa asked, visibly trying to control his rage.

The dry sound of paper hitting the floor broke the silence. Everyone gazed at what seemed to be a magazine.

"UA'S issue, it came out today." As soon as the purple minion spoke, every student from class A stood up and tried to get a hold of the magazine.

Aizawa, realizing this, quickly stomped over it and slid it to his reach. He held it with one hand in the air.

"EVERYONE. SEATS. NOW." he ordered, his nose fuming from indignation. Everyone froze where they were. The ones who could take a seat did as told. No one took their eyes from his raised hand.

The blush that once was on Momo's face was now rushing down her body.

"It's just a few words written about you on a piece of paper. Can't you just wait till you buy it?" Aizawa's voice made everyone jump a little.

"Mr. Aizawa-"

"How self-absorbed do you all have to be to act this way? Have you forgotten that you're training to be PRO heroes? What is professional about this behavior?" his voice was so loud now, even Kayama and Yamada came out of their classrooms to see what the fuzz was all about. There he was, nose bleeding with a clean cut in the bridge of it, a child-like student hanging from his scarf, waving a magazine in the air.

"Professor-" Midoriya started.

"I don't care!" he interrupted. "Whatever it is that you find so important to read, do it on your own-"

"Yo, Eraserhead," Bakugo had the not-so-surprising audacity to interrupt his scolding. "I don't think all these extras are going nuts about reading our issue."

His eyebrows met ways in the middle, Aizawa lowered his hand to analyze the magazine in question.

Mineta violently fell on his face when the scarf let his ankle lose.

Right on the cover of the magazine, there she was. The naiveness of her eyes contrasting with the boldness of the outfit. A vision in pale rose spandex. Her figure was framed by her hip-length raven hair.

All these young creeps were fighting to get a glance at her. Everything was making sense now.

"Looking good, Yaomomo." Denki's voice broke the silence.

Aizawa's breathing slowly turned back to normal. The students that had harassed Mineta stood there waiting for their punishment, but group A's homeroom teacher ordered them to go back to class in a severe tone, nothing more.

The class continued as normal as it could, only a tense fog remaining from the incident. Right when the class ended, the tall man dismissed them and rushed to leave the classroom.

Momo gathered her belongings, still confused about what had happened. She was already walking down the hall, heart violently pounding, when the mob from earlier reappeared and surrounded her.

"COULD YOU SIGN MY MAGAZINE?"

"ARE YOU DATING SOMEONE?"

"CAN I HUG YOU?"

"WE SHOULD GO OUT SOMETIME!"

"YOU LOOK DIFFERENT FROM THE PICTURE"

"SO ARE YOU A MODEL NOW? WHAT IS IT LIKE?"

Blurry faces and little air to breathe made everything start to spiral around her. She felt several bodies closing the circle around her.

"YOU'RE FAMOUS NOW WHAT IS IT LIKE?"

"NOW EVERYONE IN JAPAN KNOWS WHO YOU ARE!"

Everyone in Japan knows who you are…He probably knew where she was…

"Thank you all," her awkward words got stomped by the ruckus around her. "Could you please let me through?" questions still were flying in all directions. "Thank you, please, don't touch me." her polite request was once again ignored by the stampede. She felt her pulse pumping hard through her neck, it was getting hard to breathe.

An inaudible fat pill fell on the floor from her hand, someone stepped on it and a cloud of smoke rose from the ground, making everyone's vision cloudy.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"WHERE IS SHE?"

By the time these questions were asked, Momo had already crawled her way out of the commotion. She hurried to open the emergency exit and rushed upstairs to the place she knew was always deserted: the rooftop.

The harsh light from outside hit her eyes like waves to a rock. Momo filled her lungs with the stubborn breeze that greeted her. She widely opened her arms thankful for the free space she had missed during the mob. Her eyes automatically closed with pleasure.

"What the hell" Momo allowed the exclamation to slip from her often so correct and polite lips. What had she gotten herself into? How long would people be like this until they would forget? That breezy and beach-like sensation was suddenly being invaded with the death seaweed feeling of guilt.

The pillar of modesty and prudery her mother had worked so hard on building had now received a severe hit this weekend. Getting paid for her looks, well now that had to be the lowest Momo could ever get. It's not that they were distasteful pictures anyway; not that she needed to explain her actions to her mother anymore.

She pictured her mother looking at the pictures in the magazine, her pointy nose raised in indignation. The tears were held prisoners by her closed eyelids.

She does not own you. Her pride has nothing to do with you.

Her face was looking up, the tears finally broke loose. Momo walked towards the railed edge of the rooftop. Right when her eyes turned to face the railing was when she realized she hadn't been alone.

Mr. Aizawa seemed as surprised as her.

"Are you alright?" they asked each other concerned. To which they both answered "It's nothing." one trying to clear away the tears, the other trying to hide the blood dripping from his nose.

The awkward silence rested on the nervous smiles.

"Let me help you." Momo hurried to compose herself and, joining her hands, a cotton ball and what seemed to be an oversized clear gel capsule were created.

"It's ok, really, don't worry." He hurried to answer once he realized what she was doing.

"No, please. Allow me." her voice was weak from crying, but she still managed to sound more kind than usual.

Aizawa rested his back on the railing but froze when the young lady approached him. She put pressure on the capsule, making the liquid inside burst into the cotton ball.

Her cold fingers carefully touched the frame of his face, as the other hand dabbed the cotton ball on the bridge of his nose. That naïve expression on the photoshoot seemed stiff and fake compared to the attention she was giving the wound at that moment. The coffee-brown eyes giving him all the attention gave him shivers he struggled to control. Had she always smelled so nice? She smelled like clean sheets and something warm he couldn't really identify. His eyes caressed the peach fuzz of her face, which had been photoshopped on all of her shots.

"Does it hurt?"

"Huh?" he replied. "No."

A gentle smile appeared on her lips. Her two front teeth were slightly bigger than the rest.

"Alright, hold still," she ordered. Her hands slipped away from his face to meet again in front of her. With longing, he watched how a tiny gauze appeared from thin air between her palms.

A spark inside of him trembled with anticipation as her handheld his jawline. She touched him as if she was respectfully trying not to; only her fingertips made contact with his skin. It was as delightful as displeasing to think that it was the bare minimum contact.

"There. All better." she softly exclaimed. His brain got rid of the numbness the whole situation had put it through.

"Are you okay, tho?" Aizawa inquired after thanking her. The warmth of the coffee-brown eyes turned into an icy espresso.

"I am so, so very sorry for what happened. If I knew this would happen-"

"That is not what I asked." the tall thirty-something interrupted her.

"I…," She gulped, looking back up at her professor. His eyes were not the red fuming marbles she expected since the incident. Instead, concerned long eyebrows framed a pair of understanding dark eyes. The chill breeze made her realize how hot her face was. His glance felt genuinely worried about her. Were these eyes as kind to Midnight as they were to her? Probably way more. After all, he surely only saw her as a brat. "I have somewhere to be. Excuse me, professor."

Just as quickly as the playful breeze surrounding them, she turned around and started walking towards the door.

His eyes followed her until the door was closed once more.

Momo ran downstairs all the way from the rooftop to the first floor of the building. She didn't even bother to use the regular stairs. Her heart was on a rampage. Pictures in her head took turns to overpower her mind like a Fisher-Price Viewmaster toy. The mob, the lustful eyes from the freshmen surrounding her, Aizawa dancing with her disguised as Blonde, Midnight arriving at the club, Aizawa's eyes asking her if she was okay, Him walking with Midnight down the hall...

"A dark-haired fantasy"

Eraserhead's words pierced her chest. She opened the last door and was finally outside the building.

With a decided strut, she walked her way to the Support Group Workshop.

"Hey there, what can I do for you?" the ProHero with a yellow crane as a helmet greeted her.

"Hey Mr. Maijima," she replied to the Pro Hero Power Loader. "I am looking for Mei Hatsume. Is she here by any chance?"

Something in the back of the room exploded. "Someone looking for me?" the high-pitched voice of Mei came through the cloud of smoke and dust.

When the pink-haired girl finally appeared, it took one look at Momo for her expression to go from curious to unimpressed and annoyed.

"And what do you want?"

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you know anyone else who might enjoy this story, please be my guest and share it with your friends. It makes my day to know you keep reading the story. I appreciate it so much! College and work have been a bit heavy these weeks but be sure I will always come back! So stay tuned! Love-LB