We all know that certain person who just annoys the shit out of us for no good reason.
Aizawa might have found that person. :-)


The air was tense; first with wariness, then confusion.

Two students were wide-eyed and nervous, one panting but determined, the last smirking.

What benefit did being on the hiring council hold if I am still forced to see my students.

"Am I...Too late?" Her voice was soft, calm, much like her unalarmed face. Surprising, considering the situation. By the arrangement of students and quirks, it didn't take a rocket scientist to imagine how she got here and at what pace. Aizawa's stance relaxed. This was no threat; just an unforeseen team effort to transport a woman with poor time management skills to an appointment. A terrible quality in a teacher.

"This doesn't count as heroism or community service," He informed dryly. The other pro heroes unfroze, broken from their trance-like state by Aizawa's sarcastic call, some following his lead and quickly settling back into their seats. Before any of them could speak the students erupted all at once, as sudden and brazen as a chain of volcanoes.

"Please excuse Miss Tsutomi, it wasn't her fault-"
"She would've been on time, only-"
"That piece of shit Mineta ran off after some of his perv bullshit antics-"
"Bakugo, we are in the presence of professionals-"
"Miss Tsutomi stopped him and Bakugo with one hand!"

The woman was clearly overwhelmed by the protection of her new fan group, unable to produce a response or silence their excuses as she raised her hands in a feeble attempt of pacification. Pain stitched across Aizawa's temple at the noise. If she couldn't handle barely a quarter of the class, the racket would surely reach even his room with the full class present. He sighed. Why can I never find a moment's peace and quiet in my life?

All Might stood and Aizawa noted he had utilized a lightening-quick transformation back into the great, girthy symbol of peace upon the supposed "threat"'s entrance. The students fell silent upon his sudden, more-obvious presence.

"Did you say she stopped Bakugo single-handedly?"

All attention turned to the woman in question. Her features reddened.

"I see," Principal Nezu murmured. The file before him contained a picture of the same slender woman, the only difference being the hair style. Upon closer examination Aizawa noticed she was even wearing the same outfit. Is this her only professional attire?

"Students, thank you for escorting Miss Tsutomi to this interview. You are free to go now."
"But-"

This time the woman did silence the disruptive teenagers, turning in their direction with a small smile. Like her other expression it was placid, radiating a calm that proved infectious.
It was highly irritating.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me. I can take it from here."

The mitigation of energy was impressive, Aizawa thought grudgingly. The most animated of Class 1-A gave no quarrel with their dismissal and slightly bowed, both to the woman as well as the room. Uraraka was the last to trail out of the room with one final glance and a small wave. The woman's lips rose just a fraction more, fingers wiggling by her side in a minimal -though apparent- response. With a fluid pivot her attention returned to the hiring board, head bowed low.

"Please excuse my tardiness; I am, again, Chiyo Tsutomi, and am honored to be here."

"So honored you had to stop and chat up some students before deciding to show up?" Aizawa muttered, mostly to himself. Interviewee number nine caught him in her sight and the professional suddenly felt exposed. She looked like some sort of wise fawn, watching him with curiosity and mild disdain.

"Excuse him, he's just a cranky bitch when it gets around his naptime," Leave it to Present Mic to throw him under the bus...and reveal one of his secrets. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you,"

"Miss Tsutomi, what did the students mean when they said you stopped young Bakugo with one hand?" All Might asked. Tsutomi shifted in her seat, ramrod straight, head held in a manner that seemed practiced. She cleared her throat before speaking.

"He had lunged for a student- Mineta?- so I reached out and stopped him. It seemed like he was going to use some sort of explosive. I imagine this is against school policy, of course."

"Is that why you stopped him?" Aizawa interrupted. Again she turned to him. He had the distinct urge to pull up his "scarf" higher as protection. What's with this woman?

"I stopped him because I had never encountered someone producing a liquid out of the palm of their hand, and I was curious," She paused, staggered just enough for someone as acute as Aizawa to notice. "And he was using an uncanny amount of force against a peer with no apparent justification."

"Ah, your quirk! It's written down as submersion. Would you care to elaborate?" Principal Nezu asked kindly. Again Tsutomi shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"I can...manage water. With Bakugo, I focused on the water in his blood, as its 92% aqueous, and regulated the flow in order to calm him down."

"You said manage; what does that mean?" Kayama, better known as Midnight, inquired. Aizawa wondered if the interviewee was put off by the only other woman in the room wearing such a ridiculous, scanty outfit. In comparison to Midnight, Tsutomi practically looked like a nun.

She was composed of quiet movements and flickers; like a flame in a lantern. Controlled. Constant. It was clear this wasn't the questioning she'd expected or prepared for, but under some sort of conditioning she maintained an air of serenity.

God, this woman was infuriating.

"Control sounds like a pretty powerful, almost villainous word, when put into the context of how I could potentially use it with my quirk. I have nor ever intend to control anyone, and prefer phrases more synonymous to 'manage' or 'direct-'"

"Isn't that what teaching is all about, though?"


What is this asshole's problem?

Of all the pro heroes, of all the people in the room to ask me questions, why did it have to be this guy, and what had I done to piss him off so badly? What kind of fucking interview was this, even? I expected questions about my teaching methods and pedagogy, not the examination of my own quirk and wry word debates. Was this part of everyone's interview? My nerves were shot and it hadn't even been ten minutes.

I knew Midnight by the scandalous outfit and could identify All Might from a mile away. My right fingers suddenly twitched; I had a dark internal desire to touch those muscles, to feel and see for myself if they were as hard and impressive as they looked.

Now is so not the time, Chiyo. Focus.

Present Mic was the MC of the Sports Festival each year, so after his earlier quip and question I pegged the blonde, shade-wearing man. The mouse...thing, had to be the man I spoke to on the phone: Principal Nezu. He also had a table to himself, the two adjacent tables seating the four pros into a U-shaped bent around my chair, marking his importance.

So who's this other guy?

Shaggy. Unkempt. Over it. His black hair hung in clumps over his shoulders and face- or what was visible, between his slumped posture and strange, tape-like scarf. He wasn't glaring, exactly; I probably wasn't worth that extent of effort.

"Teaching control, maybe. In my experience, the teachers and advisors who tried to control their students lacked the rudimentary skills of socializing and effective teaching," Bam. Suck it, Mr. Nonchalant. "I may be in control of the classroom or a situation, but I, nor does anyone else, have true control over another human being. In a reputable sense, anyway."

"I see," It was All Might who murmured the comment. I fought the urge to beam as he rubbed his chiseled chin, seemingly chewing over my answer. Impressing the main man had to be worth some sort of points, right? I should probably focus on the principal, as he's more than likely the deciding factor.

I looked pointedly at Principal Nezu and smiled, trying to ooze friendliness. Luckily, he returned the expression.

"Miss Tsutomi, could you tell me why you applied to our school?"

Money. To make mom proud. To assure her of my safety by surrounding myself around the best of the best. Because it's in close proximity to my apartment.

"I've always been interested in the development of hero and villain mentalities, as well as their differences. Empathy is a dying art which should, in my humble opinion, be passed on to the future generations of heroes in order to negate any sort of potential anarchy, overthrowal, or tyranny. At the same time, I enjoy being around children." Jesus, why did I add that last part? I fought the urge to glance at Moody Mystery. Naturally, he didn't skip a beat.

"I'd hardly consider the students of UA children, Miss Tsutomi."
I could use this to my advantage. I fought off a smug look and instead implemented a polite, minuscule smile.
"Isn't that sort of the problem?"

I had piqued Principal Nezu's attention, I could tell. You have them where you want them, Chiyo. Now bring it on home. "In a world of increasing danger, so much responsibility and weight is put on our youth that they often lose themselves to the whims and mentalities of others. I want to be there to let them know it's okay to think for themselves, and to broaden their understandings of the world, morality, and ethics past that of their predecessors." I couldn't help it; I looked at the shaggy-haired douchebag while saying that last part. A sighing scoff escaped him, much to my pleasure.

The questions following were milder in comparison. Mom and I had drilled over basic interview questions throughout my final year of schooling and the following summer to boot. Sure, I missed the first teachable semester of school due to lack of effort, but now was my chance; if I didn't land a job, I'd be out on the street or moved back in with mom by the end of the month. A sheen of sweat cooled the back of my neck.

Please, if there's a god, do not let the grouchy cat-human be the deciding vote on my hiring.

"I think that about sums up the interview process. Thank you, Miss Tsutomi. We'll get back to you with our decision within the week."

My stomach churned like a vortex. Was that it? Did I even get on the radar, or was I so painfully obvious in my motives and inexperience that they endured the last hour talking to me through pity? Outwardly, I was sure I still looked as calm as ever. Would that be considered a positive, working at a school of such extremes? I'd thought so, but now wondered if I'd come off too passive and uninterested.

Please, please hire me. I am extremely interested in not living on the street or with my mother in my mid-twenties.

"Thank you for your time," I bowed for the millionth time, sending another prayer to the heavens. "It was an honor to meet you and the prestigious, renowned teachers of this school."

"Heavens! We never even formally introduced ourselves, did we?" Principal Nezu looked appalled at himself. "The commotion over your...unexpected entrance caused a slip of the mind, I'm afraid. Please," He continued, standing. Like trained puppies the others stood as well. I stalked forward as the teachers moved towards the principal, forming a line.

All, of course, except the reluctant, scraggly-faced man, who had to be evicted from his chair before he'd move.

Do I...Do I shake it like a normal hand? The sweat was back with a vengeance as I stared at the large, white paw of the principal. I reached out and shook the plush joints gingerly. Aren't animal paws really sensitive? Maybe it's like shaking a little kid's hand. I just won't apply any pressure.

Mission success. I moved down the row, sharing polite exchanges and little comments. I was still caught off guard by Present Mic's flirty comment about my "impressive vernacular" (I don't think he actually knew what that word meant) when a cool, slender hand slipped into mine, fingers long enough to curl around the side of my palm.

Two dark eyes, reddened around the edges, were slightly glaring down at me, the rest of his face passive. Him. I couldn't break eye contact; I couldn't afford to lose this battle. I fought off the shiver snaking up my spine and decided I could live with the twitch of my middle finger, snug inside his, as my only sign of discomfort.

"Shota Aizawa." He grunted. I smiled as politely as I could muster, given the circumstances. His hand slipped from mine as soon as it seemed socially acceptable and I let go of a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

If by some miracle I did land this job, I really hoped our rooms would be as far away as possible.

"All Might. It's an honor to meet you, sir," My voice sounded too awed and I mentally cursed my fangirling; I didn't even care about the whole "hero" thing, he was just so...manly.

So the exact opposite of Sulky Sally over there, basically.

"The pleasure is all mine, Chiyo!" Holy Shit, did the most famous man in the world just refer to me by my first name? His hand engulfed mine entirely, he was so massive. Stay cool, stay cool. "I'm still impressed you took to Class 1-A so quickly! And to handle someone like young Bakugo so calmly! Most impressive."

"Oh, no," I admonished. "I assure you, I was a bit ruffled on the inside over the whole situation." Those gleaming white teeth grinned at me and I smiled back, a little sheepish. He practically gushed confidence and geniality; it was no wonder so many people tried to imitate him. I bowed one final time, to both him and the room, before turning towards the door.

Please, please let them at least consider me.

"Chiyo?"

I turned at the sound of my voice. All Might looked on, suddenly serious.

"You stopped a quirk with your own at great risk; from you file, I see that you do not have a provisional hero license, meaning serious legal repercussions could have ensued your actions. And yet you still acted. Why?"

I froze.

I hadn't even considered that. I so rarely used my quirk the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. What had possessed me? How could I be so stupid?

"I...I don't know. I just- my body just...Moved." It was the weakest excuse in my life. The sound of my voice was small and childish like it always was when I was embarrassingly caught and humiliated. I've ruined everything.

The room went as silent as I was. I looked up, horrified.

All Might was a statue of muscle and attention, menacing and awe-inspiring all at once. The principal, Present Mic, and Midnight were keenly focused and Aizawa, for the first time, looked mildly interested.

Like the waking sun, All Might grinned.

My stomach swirled like a tornado and all my well-trained serenity abandoned ship, relinquishing itself to the flood of nerves and emotion swelling around it.

And, like the child at heart that I was, I turned and walked calmly out the door.
And proceeded to run like the devil was chasing me all the way back to my car.