Shouta Aizawa

It was the day that U.A.'s Hero course was making a temporary transition to living in and receiving instruction from different apartment complexes. All students and staff involved with the project had packed their necessities and were transported to their respective buildings—they were arranged by class like the dormitories. The staff from U.A. had their own apartments within the complex, and if they so desired, they had the option to share an apartment.

Aizawa found himself tentatively moving into an apartment with Yamada, or most commonly known as Present Mic, for the next three months. While Aizawa considered Yamada to be a good friend, he wasn't certain if Yamada still had a romantic interest in him. That question gnawed at the back of Aizawa's head from time to time, but he never allowed that to negatively impact his friendship with Yamada.

Once Aizawa had finished unpacking the few things he'd tossed into a suitcase, he sat atop his bed and sipped from his juice pouch until a knock arrived at his door. "Hm?" He glanced up at Yamada.

"Is that all you packed?!" queried Yamada, who flailed his hands back in astonishment.

Aizawa shook his head while Yamada scanned the minimalistic room. "No. My teaching supplies are still in my suitcase." The stark contrast between his soft, monotonous voice and Yamada's explosive, ebullient voice only seemed to unify the two further by dividing them first. "I'm assuming you still have most of your unpacking to do?"

Yamada offered a dejected nod. "Sure do. Say, who were your students again? The ones you're looking after? I've got Kaminari, Jirou, and Kirishima." He leaned against the doorframe.

"Bakugou and Todoroki." Aizawa paused for a moment. "Speaking of them, I'm going to make sure they haven't gotten themselves into too much trouble." With a sigh, he stood up and tossed his empty juice pouch into the bin in his room.

"You've got a big heart for your students," Yamada chuckled with a smile.

"They're troublesome."

"That's what you tell yourself."

"I won't argue with that."

When Aizawa arrived at Todoroki and Bakugou's apartment and knocked on the door, a part of him anticipated that he would stand outside the door for at least thirty seconds before the door opened. Fortunately for Aizawa, however, the door was opened by Bakugou in roughly eighteen seconds.

"That eager to start the lecture?" Bakugou murmured with an expression and tone that seemed somewhat vexed.

"I'm here to check in with you and Todoroki," Aizawa replied. "Have you two been respectful?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes and allowed Aizawa to enter the apartment. "Oi! Icyhot, get your ass out here." The vestiges of a smirk materialized on his lips, but they promptly faded away by the time he turned to face Aizawa. "You tell me."

Troublesome as ever, Aizawa thought while Todoroki soon joined the two. Bakugou looks exhausted. The eye bags don't lie. He nodded at Todoroki, acknowledging his presence.

"How are you two?" asked Aizawa, and for a few seconds, the apartment was eerily quiet.

"Fine," Bakugou muttered.

"Good," Todoroki sighed.

Aizawa nodded. "How do you two suppose you'll go about your assignment?"

A tsunami of silence swallowed up the three once again.

"I don't know, but I ain't forgiving this asshole anytime soon," Bakugou snarled with venom dripping from his words like the fangs of a serpent. "Unless you wanna tell me what the fuck you've kept silent about this whole damn time." He glared at Todoroki with eyes that boiled with seething conviction.

Todoroki lightly grasped his left wrist, but whether or not he was aware of that was unknown. "I'm sorry," he whispered with a crestfallen expression. "I…can tell you a little about it later." The light in his eyes was cut by his eyelids.

Something tells me that I'll have new suspicions about these two more than I'd like. They're both hiding behind lies. But their problems matter, and they deserve to be heard. I don't think that either of them is happy. I can't say how they're feeling, but I don't think 'happy' is on the table.

"Tch." Bakugou scowled. "For the sake of my grade, I'll let you take up my time."

Aizawa cleared his throat. "Keep in mind that you two will need to cooperate, and the essay questions revolve around that." His eyes met Bakugou's vermillion eyes and Todoroki's heterochromatic eyes. "Honesty and understanding are key. Now, are either of you busy?"

"I don't think so," Todoroki replied.

"Why?" Bakugou sibilated.

"We're going out for dinner. Decide on a place."

"I'm not really hungry, and you don't have to spend money on me," Todoroki sighed with equivocal earnestness.

Bakugou's glare became a whetted blade that transfixed Todoroki's posture. "What a fucking lie, you goddamn suck-up. All I've been able to hear over your silence is your fucking stomach." Disgust and rancor were smeared over his visage.

"Bakugou," asseverated Aizawa in a glacial growl.

"What? He just wants to be on your good side by being a humble bastard. Then, he'll stab you in the back when it'll hurt the most. Ain't that right? I'm not falling for your shit again."

It sounds like there are a lot of deep-rooted issues tangling together here. I have more and more questions, but very few answers. Everything about this is troublesome.

Todoroki continued to stare at the floor for a moment before meeting Bakugou's gaze. "I didn't have a choice." Unvarnished and abject was his utterance. "But I don't half-ass my attempts to achieve my goals." Despite the connotations of his statement, there were no fragments of malice scattered within his words.

"Says the fucker that wouldn't use half of his own goddamn Quirk in a fucking tournament!" vituperated the ash-blonde.

At times, I wonder if I'm teaching high schoolers or elementary students, Aizawa internally sighed. Elementary advice it is.

"I came to terms with my worst enemies and grew stronger," Todoroki countered in an unenthused sigh. "You chose—"

As Bakugou released a disgruntled snarl, Aizawa shook his head and gestured for the two to halt their argument with his aloft hands. "Enough," Aizawa asserted. "You're only making yourselves miserable. Have you heard each other's side of the story? I want you both to hear each other out and talk about this tonight. Don't brush it off—I'll be asking you both about this tomorrow. Understood?"