Shouta Aizawa

It was a matter of minutes before the end of homeroom, and while the rest of Aizawa's students carried their belongings to their next class, Todoroki and Bakugou lingered in the classroom. Both students were silent, and the folds of silence emanating from each of the three in the room seemed to perniciously collapse like dominoes into a layered, mushy spiral of cold, thick discomfort.

Bakugou hasn't been acting like his usual self, Aizawa thought to himself. Some days, it seems like there's something eating away at him to the point where he can hardly think or move his pencil. Other days, his fuse is nonexistent, and he snaps at most things. He glanced from Bakugou to Todoroki. Todoroki has lost a concerning amount of weight, and he frequently shows up to class with new bruises and injuries. I want to help them, but more than that, I want them to build each other up again. These kids… They expect me to initiate the conversation, don't they?

Finally, Aizawa punctured the leaden marsh of silence with his voice. "Is there a reason why you two don't seem to want to work together?" He oscillated between looking at Bakugou and looking at Todoroki.

Bakugou's visage crinkled like a piece of paper being wadded up. "Are you shitting me? As if you haven't seen us avoiding each other. There is no way in hell I'm being paired with him."

Todoroki lifted his head a bit as though to speak, but he glanced away, remaining silent.

"Your groups won't be changing," asserted Aizawa in an austere murmur. "You two will need to work things out without getting violent. Violence will result in an immediate expulsion, and failing to either complete your assignment or fulfill your objectives will earn you a failing grade." He locked eyes with Todoroki. "Do you have anything you want to say, Todoroki?" He waited for a response from his phlegmatic student, but he received a simple shake of the head. "Bakugou?"

The ash-blonde furrowed his brows with a lour burning through his expression. "So, lemme get this straight… He and I are gonna be holed up in an apartment together for three months, and you're gonna be coming to our apartment every day to give us our lectures and watch over us like we're children?" His head tilted ever so slightly.

Aizawa nodded. "Good. You read the form. Now, I'd like to speak to each of you individually. Todoroki, can you wait outside the classroom?"

"Sure."

Once Todoroki exited the room, Bakugou drummed his fingers across his arm. "What?" His eyes seemed to stare at the floor.

I have a lot of concerns regarding both of you. Out of all my students, you two are the most likely to have written the poem I found. Although it's not in their favor to be paired together in this project, I have every confidence that they can work with each other again.

"Are you all right, Bakugou?" queried Aizawa.

Bakugou arched his brows at his teacher's point-blank question. "Fine. Why the hell do you care?" He shifted his weight onto his left leg and rolled his shoulders back.

"It seems like something's going on. You're far less attentive, and overall—"

"Nobody asked you to pry into my life," Bakugou snarled, peeling his lips back a bit. "And it sounds to me like you've assumed a shit ton of things that aren't true."

"Your grades have been slipping. That's unusual for you, Bakugou. They're still some of the highest grades, but they've dropped. Is there a reason for this?"

"Tch. Just…" His eyes averted from Aizawa. "I've been busy with school shit and other shit, dammit. What, are you looking down on me as well? Is that all I… Tch. I don't have time for this." With that, Bakugou turned on his heel and left Aizawa with the tramp of his footsteps against the floor.

The pile of concerns I have only grows, Aizawa internally maundered while the classroom door slid open again. What was he going to say? Odd. Todoroki seems…tense. I can tell he doesn't want to be here. Understandable, but I'm certain there's more to it than meets the eye. He sieved Todoroki's pale countenance.

"Todoroki, is everything all right?" Aizawa asked while tilting his head and observing how much further Todoroki stood from him compared to Bakugou.

Todoroki nodded slowly, but his body trembled lightly. He seemed calm, and yet, his sangfroid trembled with him.

A sigh escaped Aizawa's lips. "You're shaking."

"Can I open the door?" Soft and bereft of conviction, Todoroki's voice was like a feather brushing across Aizawa's ears.

"Go ahead."

"Thanks."

I've never seen him like this before. He wasn't like this when Bakugou was in the room. Is he afraid of me, or is it something else?

Once Todoroki returned from sliding open the door, Aizawa remarked, "I've noticed that you've lost weight. Is something going on?"

Todoroki shook his head. "It happened around when…Bakugou and I broke up. I haven't completely fixed my routines yet." His lackadaisical words inclined Aizawa to believe him.

Opposites do attract. It must have been a painful break-up. They never show it, but I truly believe that they're hurting and struggling severely. Beyond the students I see walking into my classroom, who are they really? Beyond the walls and closed doors, what are they really thinking and feeling? Beyond the lies, excuses, and facades, how much pain are they hiding every day?

"I see. All right. If ever there's something troubling you, you can talk to me, Todoroki. You're free to head to your next class."

Todoroki quietly thanked Aizawa and briskly departed from the classroom. As the echo of the door hitting the frame melted from reality, Aizawa found himself expelling a drawn-out sigh. He unlocked his phone and began typing out notes for Bakugou and Todoroki.

They're both enigmas, Aizawa thought to himself while recording his observations. But I do have my own concerns about them. Bakugou explicitly rejected my help, but he seemed to come undone more as the subject lingered. Todoroki evaded my question while still answering it, and he seemed to be very uncomfortable when he was with me. It might not be my place to solve their problems, but something is going on that's affecting them daily. As their teacher, I can be someone that they trust enough to confide in if there's something eating away at them. I'd like to be that person for all of my students, despite how time-consuming it sounds, but I'm most concerned about them. Students' mental health is invaluable, but it's overlooked more often than not. I remember my teenage years…

Aizawa briefly looked at his hands, then his arms, and down to his feet. He closed his eyes and shook his head as his repressed memories seeped through the thin slits strewn across his psyche.

I'm no longer chained by my past, but the memories continue to rattle in my ears. Aizawa exhaled slowly. But, that aside, I won't allow another incident like the one that transpired three years ago to happen again.