#v; Those without potential will be deemed unfit. [Main verse]

[erasureeyes-blog]

“Sensei — " Izuku just stares up at Aizawa with tears in his eyes. "What did I do wrong? Why — why wasn't I able to save him too? I said no one was going to die today! I meant it — I — " He chokes on his words, then swallowing back a hiccup. "I can't — I d-don't —"

   He’d gone to get Midoriya because he’d known that, while most everyone else was doing varying levels of alright and would recover,                                                                         Nighteye would not.   And Deku was an intern at Nighteye’s office - undoubtedly had a stronger bond with the rather surly hero than he himself did ( he'd only truly known him for but so short a time ).            Midoriya wouldn’t want to see this. But he’d hate it all the more if he missed it.                  Aizawa knew that.   The tears that followed were by no means a surprise - Midoriya was always crying at the drop of a hat, how could he not? - and neither was Midoriya’s initial flat-out denial that Nighteye would die. All Might, even, had a similar ( though muted ) reaction… like mentor, like trainee.    His own head lowered because, well, he knew that there wasn’t really any arguing. There had been some hope, perhaps, with Recovery Girl being present, but as soon as Recovery Girl stated that even her quirk wouldn’t truly help at this point, he knew.             Recovery Girl’s word was often final. In the school and in the hospital.                  Aizawa knew that.   There was no rational way to assume that Nighteye could live after being impaled all the way through like that - not right through the torso. Too many organs. Their intestines would likely be all but gone. It’s a wound that likely hit the colon or lungs or however many other organs as well. It just. There’s no reasoning with that.            The only real variable here was exactly how long Nighteye had left.   He might’ve lasted a little longer than he did had he not used what was likely the last of his strength to raise his arm and use his quirk on Mirio - but he couldn’t be faulted for that.         It’s possible they might’ve only lasted long enough to do that. It’s hard to tell.   Midoriya turning to him for some kind of guidance… well… considering that Yagi is in the room, he’s a little bit surprised that they chose him to come to first. Perhaps it was simply because he had been involved in this whole mess with them and Yagi had not been. Perhaps it was… he’s not actually sure what else it would be, really.                             It doesn’t matter anyway.   The death of a hero, in any instance, is hardly an easy thing to handle. Everyone around them felt it in some form - and often, particularly those well-known by people who are not heroes themselves, it was felt by more than just co-workers. He wasn’t sure how many people would feel it in this case. Nighteye is-was not the most approachable of heroes.         Midoriya felt the loss enough for ten, and Mirio even more, and the sheer magnitude of grief was writ across both their faces as plain as day.    Mirio was a bit older, a bit more used to the hero world and how it worked and how it went while Midoriya was merely a first year, and this is his first real brush with actual, literal, permanent death.             The death of a hero is never an easy thing to handle.                  Aizawa knows that.   It’s not uncommon to feel as though such a thing happening was one’s own fault when it comes to those that wish to save people. Midoriya is… no exception, by the sound of it.   Aizawa’s own feelings brushed off to the side, one hand comes to clasp the young teen’s shoulder, steering him further away, out of the room. A few nurses hovered nearby outside, but it didn’t take much more than a particularly steely gaze to have them going off finding sudden other more productive things to do for the time being.    Lowering himself to crouch down in front of Midoriya move levelly, his suppressed the wince that wanted to surface but didn’t.            This wouldn’t be an easy conversation                  Aizawa knows that.

   “Look–” What does one really say in times like these? He doesn’t consider himself the best when it comes to emotions, much less comforting others. But he can try. Midoriya deserves that much after all this mess he’s been through. “It’s not your fault.” He starts, as blunt as ever and keeping his voice steady. Midoriya needs to hear it. And he knows that. “The only ones to blame for any of this are those yakuza villains. You and I both know that.” It’s quite easy to forget, actually, so he needs the reminder.       “No matter how many times you try to change the future, you can’t change the past.”   He pauses briefly, lips meeting in a thin line, though his gaze never wavers from Midoriya’s. He continues before the boy might get the urge to speak again. “You are just one teenager, not even quite a hero yet. You did well. A little reckless, as usual, but you did well. You saved that girl, you saved others in the area by keeping the last portion of the fight in one area, and you saved even more people than that in the long run by stopping Overhaul.”          These are the irrefutable facts.   Finally, one knee descends to settle on the hospital floor, leaning forward despite his own body’s misgivings to take Midoriya and pull him closer into an embrace. “Sometimes these things happen. And even those of us in this line of work might feel a little powerless when they do. But you have to know that it’s not your fault. It’s a hazard we all face as heroes. I’m only sorry you have to encounter it so early on.”

[erasureeyes-blog]

         starter for @jealousyridden

   It’s been... interesting circumstances having someone quite like Yukako around the school. An odd decision, maybe, and he’s been keeping an eye on her as she’s settled into this life rather than her last. She doesn’t strike him as having the same kind of fire that some of the others do about becoming a hero, but there is definitely fire there. 

   There is much to be gleaned from observation, but there is also something to be said about simply asking someone something - which is how he finds himself stopping in the hallway to speak with her. Not hard to manage, she’s on her own here more often than most. “How has adjusting been going?” 

[erasureeyes-blog]

      starter for @14hnds

   Oddly enough, despite the fact that it’s around two in the morning, he isn’t quite as tired as he normally is. Generally, he chalks that up to essentially functioning semi-nocturnally and also maybe the nap he had earlier today. Now, he finds himself perched up on the corner of a decently tall building’s roof, overseeing the street corner below. 

   There isn’t too much activity at this time, but every populated area has some kind of nightlife, and cities most of all. There isn’t much to see in terms of what he’s looking for ( namely, trouble ), but it’s about time for him to go take his patrol route, so he stands.

   Half-turning, he puts one foot up on the raised edge of the roof, only to stop upon noticing something else on a different building further down the street ( something he might’ve missed just based on angle alone if he’d not been up here ). A person. Dark clothes, blue hair. Is that? No Kurogiri or Noumu with them. Strange, but Tomura has been known to go off on his own before. 

[erasureeyes-blog]

@presentcockatoomic moved from here

   Aizawa probably should have guessed that something like this would happen after a few drinks with Hizashi, considering he knows that the blonde can’t hold their liquor all that well. All told, he probably should have gotten the bartender to cut him off a drink or so ago. 

   Even so, he hadn’t expected the other to be so suddenly affectionate while drunk, and he certainly wouldn’t have expected them to just plop into his lap like so. The combination of Hizashi’s incapacity to keep himself to a normal volume combined with the undoubtedly interesting sight they made would be enough to turn one or two heads ( though, somehow, he came to the conclusion that Hizashi either didn’t notice or care very much right then ). Add that on top of the position he now found himself in with his friend’s words, and it was enough to make his cheeks start to burn under Mic’s semi-gloved touch.     “--Zashi.” At that point, Aizawa’s hand left his glass on the table and came up to take the other’s hands to pull them away. His voice, in stark contrast to the other’s, was lowered and somewhat urgent. “Stop it, you’re going to cause a scene.” 

[erasureeyes-blog]

A discord-inspired starter for @watashi-ga-kita

         Four hours.    Surprisingly enough, there isn’t much to do--- aside from checking on some of those dastardly children at this point. They’re all fine, or will be soon enough.     He finds himself left with his thoughts... and there are many pieces of information to sift through in his mind, little pieces of a puzzle that had been missing for some time now, fitting perfectly in the gaps and better revealing a bigger picture. Secrets are prevalent in his thoughts, festering there as he turned facts over in his mind, this way and that, deciphering precisely what they mean or lead to. The facts are simple, the implications are not.    Eventually, he finds his way home, where the activity buzzing in his head doesn’t stop still, but he finds solace in two smaller presences. Their quiet, rumbling purrs do well to serve as a white noise background.          Three hours.       The shift in his thoughts is triggered by a nearly quiet thrum and an address.     Glancing at it, he sets his phone off to the side to remain mostly unacknowledged for the time being, abandoned and to be mostly ignored. He doesn’t really need to look at it again to remember, though he does spare a moment to think out a potential route. Hm.    Beyond that, his thoughts become preoccupied with a little, siren-like voice. Dinner date. Repeated, over and over, like a serpent’s whisper in his ear - only worse, because sound could be blocked out whereas the mind itself cannot. Was it ambiguous wording? Technically, yes, but- well. Hm. He’d been a little bit distracted at the time of the call, but the second one worked in tandem as a reference with his memory, the latter of which is generally pretty reliable about... most things.              The voice on the other end of the line has been pretty nervous.                   Or ‘bashful,’ as the black-haired woman ( ‘Nana,’ he reminds himself ) had put it.                          He can be rather blind on this subject, but suddenly it seems painfully obvious.          What, then, did he make of it?    Truthfully, he wasn’t very sure. He would probably be one of the first to say that he doesn’t exactly go looking for that kind of thing. He might also admit that he wouldn’t know romantic intent or what it felt like if it literally bit him. Right now he kind of just feels like he has a stomachache, just the kind that’s settled more in the gut, like an annoying lump.    What the hell does that mean?                   Idly, he reminds himself of the other intent behind the... date.    Thinking about it makes him wince a little, and hindsight tells him that he’d acted exceptionally rashly on numerous counts - and it also tells him now that perhaps the snapshots had happened because of... well.       He doesn’t know how he feels about that either--.                       Enough.          He starts grading papers - to stop sitting here wasting time and to give himself something else to think about and do.          Two hours.    Grading papers proves to be more challenging than it has any right to be. Part of that is because the little black kitten he’s currently taking care of keeps trying to bite the papers and every time he scoots them gently away, they think it’s a game. At some point, he simply picks up the kitten and tucks them into his scarf to sit there because that usually calms them down, oddly enough. It works.    Getting rid of the feline distraction speeds up the process, but not entirely. His mind won’t fucking shut up. He’s starting to think he has a problem. He can’t go on with this kind of hindrance to his work for very long, he’ll have to confront the issue at some point.    Eventually, he asks Skimble for their point of view, as they are a wise and impartial judge. He receives a meow in answer and what he’s pretty sure passes for what would be a shrewd look from a feline. He nods and accepts this, even though it really doesn’t help. Petting the cat is at least calming, though, so he settles for that for a while.          One hour.    All at once, his sensibility is confronted by what he might be doing in preparation. What... should he be doing, anyway?     Setting the little kitten down somewhere on the floor to let it waddle off, Shouta leaves it in the care of the older feline and sets himself to figuring out this conundrum, whilst also being aware that he needs to allot time towards actually getting to his destination when he doesn’t have anything but his own feet to get him where he needs to go. He’s sure this is fine, however, because getting ready for anything never takes him long.     He deliberates his choices for only but so long before settling on wearing something simple. And comfortable. And warm. Simple dark pants and a grey loose-fitting sweater that he’s pretty sure will be fine. In addition, he trades out his typical capture weapon scarf for a more proper scarf, which just happens to harbor a galaxy resemblance and is perhaps the only source of actual color on him.    Leaving his apartment behind, he makes sure that the cats within will be fine on their own and that they have ample food of their own before heading out. He’s pretty sure he has plenty of time left after finally scooping his phone off it’s abandoned corner of a table.    He finally gets around to checking but not replying to any messages as he walks.          Three minutes.    Well. He made it with a little bit of time to spare, which is mostly a testament to his knowledge of the layout of the city and thus knowing better routes to take.     Thus, he is confronted with a door.       Should he wait? He is early.          ...that seems a little stupid.             He only waits as long as it takes for his breathing to steady, which is perhaps a minute, before simply knocking and then promptly shoving his hands in his pockets.

[erasureeyes-blog]

@mou-daijobu moved from here

* ｡･ﾟﾟ “ ✩★ ★✩ ’‘゜ﾟﾟ･｡ *

    THE CITY LIGHTS BEFORE HER SPARKLED, traffic barely audible down below since it was so late at night. It looked more akin to a light show, what with the varying colors and how they all seemed to ebb and flow through the darkness of everywhere else. It left Nana wordless as she watched on.

                                      The sound of footwork behind her made her tense but, as the moment went on and she went unattacked, the presence behind her was FRIENDLY. It took her another moment to recognize just who it was.

                                   “Aizawa-san,” Shimura said quietly, leaning backwards and onto her back to look up at the underground Hero from her spot on the floor. Her eyes shifted from his face to the sky, the stars twinkling almost as like the streetlights from prior. Funny how different things could hold similarities like that.

                                   “What’s brought you to my HUMBLE ROOFTOP this fine 3 A.M.?” She lazily reached up, palms open as she wiggled her fingers at him. “Don’t you have patrols to do, or are you off the clock now? Did you have more questions? I’m sure that… Everything that was explained to you left you more CURIOUS than anything.”

   Finding a spot on a roof somewhere to perch for a while, either to look out over the city below while doing his work or to simply sit and think while his eyes wandered the lights of either the city or the stars, was no strange occurrence to him. The only think strange about this particular time that he did manage to find his way to a good place to sit for a while was that someone was already there.     What’s more was that, upon closer inspection as he neared where they sat, he realized this person was at least vaguely recognizable. He still... hardly knew her, really, despite knowing more about her than what most people would - which is a very odd sort of knowledge to harbor. He knew who she loved. He knew a few secrets she kept. But he didn’t know her favorite color or any other things, really. The thought reminded him of something that Toshinori had once told him, which at the time he’d replied with a mostly sardonic joke. Hm.    The moment that the woman before him spoke, he came to a stop, regarding her with more than a little curiosity. She was a million puzzle pieces that better informed many others he’d already had but hadn’t known what to do with, but she was also a mystery still in many ways.            .....now if only he could get her to stop trying to suplex or mock him for long enough to carry on a serious conversation....

   “Your rooftop?” Somehow, he doubted she called it that because of any real claim to the building, but probably more that she was simply claiming it as where she currently sat. “I’m not sure either of us would have enough time for the amount of questions I could probably ask you.” Which is true - particularly when one considers that he is, in fact, working at this hour.     As he speaks, he paces slowly past where she sits at one end of the roof in order to get to the corner of the building, a which point he lowers himself to squat at its edge, gazing out below. “I’m working anyway. What are you doing up here in the middle of the night?”

[erasureeyes-blog]

 @presentcockatoomic​ moved from here

   Shouta knew Hizashi more than well enough to know that they were given to random fanciful and harmless whims, such as blasting some music and dancing around the room to their heart’s content. Previously leaning back against the other’s couch he was lounging on, his head lifted to follow their movements with mild, languid amusement. Only, the other did not proceed quite as expected, but approached him instead to take a knee lifting his hand to their lips.    The unexpected gesture and subsequent request was met with a couple quick blinks before his gaze slid sideways, just bashful enough to look away. Whether it was because of the kiss or the question and the response he had before it was even given, one couldn’t be sure.     “I don’t know how to dance.” It could pass for an easy excuse for most people, or simply an insecure statement about one’s own abilities, but it was the blatant truth in this case. Why would Shouta have ever wanted or needed to learn? When would he have ever learned, for that matter? A school dance? No. He’d never had the inclination, much less the time, for such frivolities, not even when he was younger.

[erasureeyes-blog]

SQUISH! [Maybe like a hug of life thank gdo you're not dead sensei squish sometime after the Overhaul saga.]

Hug your local grumpy sensei. | Not accepting. | @heromight

   It is a good sign that Midoriya possesses the leftover energy to embrace him at all - and another that they aren’t too broken from their mysterious self-harming power. Granted, the teen had been gaining more and more control over it as of late, but even still, they would sometimes invoke too much with reckless abandon and throw caution to the wind.    It is... less a good sign but a good one nonetheless that Eraserhead himself can feel the twinges of pain that shoot through him at odd places when embraced. He isn’t too hurt that he’s numb or anything considerably worse. 

   Were he not conscious of the way that the student hugging onto him looked on the verge of tears and was clearly concerned for his safety, he might have gently nudged them away due to the pain it caused him. As it stood, he simply accepted the hearty embrace, but didn’t truly move much himself just yet.   “What’s the matter, problem child?” Aizawa’s gruff voice was lowered somewhat, one arm coming to simply rest across the back of the student’s shoulders in a far more lethargic version of an embrace, his other hand coming simply to rest atop the wild mane of green where their head pressed against his chest as if searching for a heartbeat to make absolutely sure he’s actually there. “That worried about me?”    He was remiss with himself, but attentive to Midoriya’s own condition. Having been separated from him and all the rest, the educator couldn’t have been sure that his students, all of them, were fine without him. He has become fiercely protective of each and every once of them after USJ and everything that’s happened this year, after all.    Almost idly and without thinking, he ruffles the hair of the boy before him, still not making any move to sunder the embrace. “As if a few bird-masked yakuza could stop me from getting back to the lot of you.” It was at once grim, yet amusing, the sentiment he put forth in jest but forcefully truthful all the same.

[erasureeyes-blog]

starter for @presentcockatoomic

   Stepping out of the meeting room following its adjournment, Aizawa slipped both hands into his pockets as his pace quickened in order to catch up to one of the other retreating educators. It would certainly be hard to miss Present Mic’s retreating figure, but it was easy to catch up with him and match his pace after a few moments. “Hey.”     In contrast to Hizashi’s ( at the very least, previous ) sour mood, he himself looked more neutral, at about his usual state. Perhaps, at the moment, that may lend the other something they were used to, which may very well be what they need at the moment. That was, however, not the only reason for his approach - pragmatic as always. It was Mic who’d given voice to their thoughts on a potential traitor being among either them or the students, and he’s known the voice hero for years now. If nothing else, he trusted his own instincts and, as far as that goes, Hazashi didn’t strike him as the type. 

   He did not plan on staying here for this discussion, though. “Let’s say you and I take a walk and chat for a while, hm?”

[erasureeyes-blog]

@presentcockatoomic​ moved from here

Getting beckoned over by Aizawa can be a good thing or a bad thing. Really, the last thing Hizashi expects when he walks over is to see a small kitten’s head pop up. Squeaking in delight, Hizashi covers his mouth to avoid accidentally shouting and frightening this kitten in his surprise. Slowly uncovering his mouth, Hizashi half whispers, “OhmygodShoutathisisadorable. Where did you find him? How has no one figured this out? He’s so cute can I pet him?”

Despite having asked for permission, Hizashi goes to pet the kitten without waiting for an answer.

   All things considered, he probably should have expected some kind of loud response from Mic, but the squeaking still prompted him to blink, a little caught off guard. Well. At least they seemed to realize they might scare the small animal that way. “I’m... keeping him for Blake, actually. Until she can find a better place for them.” Which really just means he’s keeping him. Forever. “Figured what out? That I’m hiding a kitten under here? Unless he makes noise or moves around a lot, I don’t see how anyone would. Mostly he just sleeps under there.” 

   As for the question, he just glances sideways at Mic trying to pet the kitten, which seems to duck its head at first, but inevitably accepts the affection once they realize the loud man isn’t trying to do anything scary. When he speaks a moment later, it’s in a completely flat tone. “Yeah, sure, I guess you can.”

[erasureeyes-blog]

starter for @heromight

         Eraserhead was... perceptive.    This rings true in both his hero work and in his teaching, generally being very aware of others and his surroundings in one way or another.     That being said, it was almost laughable to think that Midoriya might have been trying to hide the fact that they were sick all throughout class - as well as the practical training portion of it. He might have been able to get by with some of his classmates or even explain it away to a few others, but the ebony gaze of Aizawa was by no means fooled.    All in all, he’d let it pass as far as today went, though he’d commented once earlier during the hero training that Midoriya ought not push himself, but that is easily mistaken as just general concern.

               Now, however, he speaks up. “Midoriya, stay behind for a minute.”    It earns the student a glance or two, perhaps even a jest here and there from some of the more outspoken and comedic classmates, but all it truly takes is a steely glance from the homeroom teacher to tell them that they ought to move on and keep their mouths shut.     Only once the room has mostly cleared does Eraserhead lean forward, crossing his arms on the podium at the front of the classroom as his gaze settles on the boy. Idly, he considers simply skipping right to the point, but with the school day essentially done and the students living in the dorms now, he has all the time in the world... and it can sometimes be a little bit fun to watch the students squirm when trying to answer certain questions ( and who knows what this one would glean? these kinds of questions are always a trap. ) When Aizawa speaks, his voice is lowered and perhaps his tone even a bit dangerous. “Do you have any idea why I stopped you today?”

[erasureeyes-blog]

!!ᵀᴴᴱ ᴬˢᴷ ᴵˢ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ!! 『❝SQUISH!!❞』 (EVEN THOUGH I OWE YOU 3409586 REPLIES AND AM LATE ON LITERALLY ALL OF THEM; HAVE ONE. MORE. ASK. 👍)

Hug your local grumpy sensei co-worker. | Accepting. | @watashi-ga-kita

   Heavy, recognizable footsteps echo behind him in the teacher’s lounge, precisely the cadence that he opted not to notice despite their very obvious presence. Instead, he ignored the sound in favor of keeping his back turned while dumping some decent amount of sugar into a mug sitting on the table before him, reaching over to pluck a stirrer from a small cup that he could use to mix said sugar into his coffee properly.    Perhaps it was his mistake not to acknowledge the encroaching presence, because the stirrer fell from his loose grip and clattered onto the table about the same moment that two large, muscular arms wrapped around him, encasing Aizawa in a rather sudden, inescapable hug. To make matters worse, the giant oaf actually lifted him off his feet a solid half a foot or so to the tune of that raucous laughter of his.

   The voice of the hoisted co-worker darkened a considerable degree when they spoke, a hint of surprise mingled in with clear annoyance. “All Might---” He couldn’t tell if they’d actually meant to catch him in such a way that his arms were stuck by his side or not, but it worked in their favor because he’d have been liable to elbow them in the gut otherwise. Perhaps more than once.   Rather than struggle in their grasp, which probably would have been a pretty pointless endeavor considering he knew Toshinori could take more of a hit than he was capable of doling out in that form of his, Aizawa went very still. In that form. “All Might, I’m giving you three seconds to put me down right now.” 

[erasureeyes-blog]

starter for @warptouch​

   Oddly enough, Eraser was released from the hospital to roam around before Thirteen had, though perhaps that was in part due to his irritable nature and his lack of wanting to lay around in a hospital bed all day when he could still at least be getting some things done.           That - and Thirteen’s injuries at USJ had been of a... different nature.                                There are quirks that can easily kill.    Thirteen themself had said as much and has always been conscious of that fact, Eraser knew that very well. They had been lucky that Thirteen hadn’t accidentally been completely taken out by their own ability. They would recover... in due time.    Aizawa himself had been worried more for the other than about himself when he’d learned of Thirteen’s injuries after USJ, but he hadn’t had much of a chance to go and visit them due to his own state and recent events and all the reactions to them  ( like the school’s upped security ) until now. He’d only had the news of their current state from other people to go off of and it was eating him up inside. If he’d only been able to stop the warp-user from being able to get to them and the kids, perhaps things would have gone very differently for all of them.    Luckily, he’d heard from one of the nurses at the hospital that Thirteen was on the mend and awake and that he’d be able to visit now while he has the time. They’d also given him a very worried look at his own bandaged state, which Eraser promptly ignored in favor of going off to find the right room in which Thirteen lies.    When he found it, he used his good hand to knock lightly on the door before opening it to step inside, closing it quietly behind himself. “Thirteen?” It wouldn’t take long for his solemn gaze to fall on the other hero. It felt so odd nowadays to see them without their costume on, or even their helmet. “I brought you something.” As they spoke, they held up a bag, probably recognizable to Thirteen as their own case for a small laptop they usually used for work. “I hope you don’t mind that I maybe broke into your apartment, but I figured you could use some entertainment while you’re stuck here, so I brought some of your DVDs with the kind of nature documentaries you like so much... and I also fed your demon cat while I was there.”

[erasureeyes-blog]

@presentcockatoomic​ moved from here 

   Perhaps, if he’d been thinking more when the words had left his mouth, the cold coiling of sudden and very immediate regret that he felt in his gut wouldn’t be there. The moment would have passed in silence and his ( intrusive ) thoughts would have remained inside his own head. God, I’m an idiot. Instinctively, he had gone to try and divert the sudden topic that he’d brought about with the wave of his hand and a few rushed words, already in the process of rapidly re-building the unexpectedly shattered wall with firm resolution. I shouldn’t have said that.    Hizashi caught his hand, though, stalling the re-building of the wall in the same instant and bringing diverted eyes back to meet unerring, ringed green ones. Conflicting thoughts come to battle in his head as he freezes completely, somewhat akin to a deer in rapidly approaching headlights.    On some level, he knows his trepidation is somewhat unfounded - this is Hizashi. They’re a loud-mouthed goof half the time, but they’re also the same Hizashi who would have physically fought someone in their younger years for trying to even so much as insult him for one reason or another. He could recall at least one instance in which he’d had to hold them back from doing just that. He knew they cared. It was silly of him to think that talking to them about pretty much anything would be out of the question at this point, after how long he’d known them. The truly sad thing is that this isn’t even the first time he’s had that same, more logical, thought - and yet here he is confronted with it again.    On that same note, however, maybe that was precisely the reason why he’d never really brought up most of this kind of thing with them. The blonde across from him now, without a doubt, knew some things about Aizawa’s previous homelife, but there were many things he kept to himself - and some that he himself didn’t even remember properly until years and years later. Memories, over time, resurfaced when he thought he’d gotten past everything, like dark stains showing up only when cast under a certain light.    Slowly, he comes to the realization that he’s been staring at Mic for far longer than necessary, mouth hinged open slightly, and he collects himself somewhat, swallowing the lump in his throat.              A wall half-built is hardly a functioning wall at all.    “I-” He starts off oddly louder than normal, though his voice trails off in an instant. A million thoughts run through his mind at once, but none of them seem sufficient enough to actually say, particularly with his uncertainly about the whole topic being broached at all. The writhing, uncomfortable feeling of doubt clenched tighter.    Eventually, his gaze falls to the link between them where Hizashi still holds his wrist, the connected hand having gone mostly limp aside from holding itself aloft. His voice lowers to a something akin to a quiet murmur. “You know... I don’t think he even watched the Sports Festival that first year.” It’s easier this way, to leave things to what his words implied rather than say it outright. It’s irrational too, but he can’t help it.    He’d thought, he’d thought, he’d thought-- that the person he’d sought acceptance and approval from would have finally been proud, finally been happy, finally been.... something after that day. He’d been exhausted, both physically and mentally, but his hopes had been raised so high. Everyone, everyone, everyone-- had been so encouraging and congratulating, his teenage mind had been unabashed for one moment, enough to initiate a brief conversation with a relative that hadn’t. even. been. watching. Hadn’t cared at all. After everything, all the hard work and the blood, sweat, and tears, his brief but potent hopes had crumbled to dust under careless words. A memory that seemed so strong to him now hadn’t even come to him - been available to him - for years, only to resurface now. Why?    Shouta knew in his more logical thoughts that this didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered. He hadn’t even seen the man in... a decade or so. He had been thoroughly detached from them, even. So why did it bug him so much, despite that? He wished he could answer that question.

[erasureeyes-blog]

[ @ Anyone from Class 1-A who’s been involved in Mineta’s Wild Adventure over the past couple hours. ]

   Since Mineta ( @pervertedmidget​ ) had been taken into his custody now - courtesy of the vine-haired girl from class 1-B ( @vinehair ) - he returned to where the bulk of the rest of his students ought to be with the faux-villain in tow and a rather annoyed look on his face. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased with any of their performances.     When he did arrive at his destination, he lowered Mineta to where he would be standing once more before closing his eyes momentarily, only to open them to look directly at the small grape gremlin boy. He wouldn’t have really bothered if not to make sure that @froppyhopper​ & @girlunseen​ get the chance to free themselves of the pop-off balls they’d been stuck with. 

   “Alright class, I have to say, this is one of the most disappointing results I’ve seen in a while. You had one job - and that was to capture Mineta without incident as a test. You know who actually managed to do what none of you could? One of the students from class 1-B, Ibara. Perhaps you should, if you see her in the future, thank and apologize to her for her trouble. I’d give her an A if she were my student.”     He swept an arm out over Mineta, as if to indicate the boy. “Instead, the only one of you who’s getting an A today is Mineta, because he’s the only one who actually succeeded in doing what he was supposed to do, much as I am loathe to admit it.”

   “Since you all failed today’s assignment, the only way for you to make up your grade will be to write a paper explaining to me why you think you did not succeed and what you can try to do better in the future. Hopefully, it will help some of you in the long run.” His arm lowered, but his gaze returned to Mineta for the time being, eyes closing only briefly - everyone in a sticky situation ought to be freed by then, as it were. “As for you, you may have gotten an A today, but there were still several things wrong with your performance, even if you were pretending to be a villain for a little while. You’ll be writing something for me too, but instead of a paper, I’m going to have you write a note for each person you vandalized to apologize and promise that it will not happen again.”

      His gaze goes back to the bulk of the class. “Am I understood?”

[erasureeyes-blog]

Bakugo ate my homework.

      “Guess you’ll just have to get a zero, then, considering the assignment is your responsibility.”