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Technically speaking, yes: Aizawa did think the improvised physical finals were a success. Only two teams had failed their final exams, which was the first plus (even though he begrudgingly finds out later that Vlad King only had one failing student). Not to mention, the students who seemed to be having internal struggles, either with themselves or with their assigned partner (Aizawa won’t mention any names), had overcome their problems and faced their challenge with a renewed vigor and unwavering tenacity. Regardless of if they passed or failed, they each took something away from their test. A true experience; something simply fighting robots doesn’t provide.
He allows himself to be proud. Of the ones who passed, at least.
“They must be able to form other strategies than simply beating things down,” Cementoss regails Aizawa with Kirishima and Satō’s final results. He nods in agreement, though part of him can’t say he didn’t expect this to be the case. The two’s failures will be a definite wake up call for them. “They each have such great strength; it’s a shame for them to put it to waste.”
“I’ll be sure to drill that into their skulls at camp,” Aizawa replies. “They’ve got a lot of lessons to catch up on.”
Cementoss’s eyes widen minutely, and he straightens his stance in surprise. “Wait, you’re bringing them to camp? So the punishment for failing you gave was just a logical ruse?” The corners of his lips quirk upward; he’s all too familiar with Aizawa’s ways.
Aizawa hides his own grin in his scarf, bringing a finger up to his face with a quiet, “Shhh…”
The Erasure Hero moves on to chat with a few other teachers who have gathered in the viewing room. A couple are absent because of health-related issues (All Might), previous engagements (Power Loader and Midnight), and other personal troubles (Present Mic), but Aizawa makes sure to collect the thoughts of every other teacher on the progress his students have made. Like him, most seem rather pleased with the future heroes’ improvement.
Some time later, Nedzu makes his way to the front of the room, his small stature hardly blocking the replay footage playing behind him. Ignoring the screen, Nedzu steps up onto a box to gain some height and calls everyone’s attention to him. “Splendid work, everyone!” He begins. “I believe we made the right call in changing up the final for this year. Not only did it teach our students a thing or two about how a pro hero operates, but it was loads of fun bringing them down and crushing them! ”
Nedzu breaks off into a bout of maniacal laughter, obviously having a bit too much fun with his own victory against Aizawa’s students. But the teachers let him have this moment, and patiently wait for him to return to his original thought.
“Ahem… Furthermore, I would like to discuss the future endeavors of our training camp activities and experiences. As we all know, making up for the students’ lost training time at the hands of villain attacks is our utmost priority, and also…”
It’s then that Aizawa begins to zone out, as well as a few other teachers. Nedzu has rehearsed this speech to them at least five times already, and at this point Aizawa begins to hear it in his sleep. His gaze raises slowly from the odd talking animal to the screen playing above him. Present Mic’s battle—or rather, his desecration of the forest with his voice and his subsequent conquering at the hands of bugs. Aizawa can’t help but snort to himself.
Hizashi is missing this riveting lecture, Aizawa notes. What a shame the Voice Hero had to take time off because of a frightening jolt to his system. Perhaps, Aizawa thinks, he can fill Hizashi in on all he’s missing. Probably word for word.
As he watches his husband on screen, Aizawa can’t help but wish he was here. Not just to save him from this lecture hell, but to provide a shoulder to lean and sleep against, too. He hasn’t seen Hizashi since the morning, when all the teachers congregated together to inform the students of their task. Hizashi had stook close then, and had to physically hold back laughter at the sight of the fidgeting of Aizawa’s scarf as Nedzu hid within it. Aizawa can’t imagine Hizashi will be too pleased to see him after what horrendous fate befell him during the exam—the fate Aizawa planned on having Hizashi befall—but his comforting presence was still desired.
Sighing quietly, he settles for the next best thing. Without shifting his gaze an inch, Aizawa reaches a hand underneath his scarf to tug behind the collar of his tracksuit. Fidgeting with the wedding ring dangling on a chain around his neck had become a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought or bored to tears. And thankfully with the cover of his thick scarf, he only gave off the impression of idly scratching at his collarbone. No one asked about his secret necklace, and nobody knew he toyed around with it so much in public, which was comforting.
What was not comforting, however, was the fact that Aizawa didn’t feel the cold chain against his skin.
His eyebrows furrow and he lets his gaze drop. He paws at his neckline, fingers desperate to curl around chilled metal, but he feels nothing but skin and fabric. Frantic, he rummages through his pockets, then through his utility belt, all the while trying to appear calm and collected.
But it isn’t there. It isn’t there, and Aizawa has no clue where he could have lost it.
He checks his hair and through the many rolls of his scarf to see if the necklace somehow caught on either, but to no avail. Panic settles deep into his stomach, his shaky breath coming out in spurts. Aizawa forces himself to stay calm, forces himself to think rationally.
If he really, truly lost his wedding ring, he could just… get another one… right? That was a thing one could do? Hizashi would understand; it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his, with how much he throws his gloved hands around. He would understand…
Right?
Aizawa frowns at the thought. Sure Hizashi would understand, but that doesn’t take away the guilt that racks though Aizawa’s insides. He didn’t own many items of any sentimental value; he hardly owned anything of his own, at all. And of course the one time he loses track of something important to him, it had to be the most important item he owned.
Why hadn’t he been more careful? He knew today would be a labor-intensive day—why hadn’t he just left it at home?
It occurs to him then that the ring must have slipped from his neck during his exam with Yaoyorozu and Todoroki. He had been particularly acrobatic during their fight.
Aizawa blinks, and suddenly is aware of the world around him. Nedzu is still droning on, and most of the other teachers are in varying levels of captivated and sleeping on their feet. Cementoss shifts next to him, turning to meet his anxious eyes.
“Everything alright?” He asks under his breath.
Aizawa forces a gulp and a nod, then begins to shuffle past him. “Excuse me…” he mutters, then dismisses himself from the meeting.
The exam location he partook in isn’t too far. He makes it there in good time, shaving a couple of minutes with his determined speed walking. The entire way, he keeps repeating the same thoughts through his head: that he’ll find the ring with relative ease, that it’s not lost to the world, that he’s not completely doomed. Aizawa isn’t sure if he believes his own thoughts, but it’s all he can do to calm himself.
On his way, he passes by Midoriya’s group of friends. They stare for a moment at his approaching form before Uraraka greets him with a “Hi, Mister Aizawa!”
Aizawa passes them by, muttering a hum in response, and he isn’t surprised to feel curious eyes following his rushed state. He catches Asui muttering under her breath, “He seems to be in a hurry…”
Thankfully, the cleaning crew haven’t reached this exam site yet. The fake city scape is in the same pristine condition as he had left it in. He breathes a sigh of relief, then tries to review his previous actions in his head. The ring must be along the route he took, which lessens his search area by a considerable amount. Still, it’s a lot of distance to cover, and his ring is so small…
He sighs, before tightening his scarf and beginning his search.
Aizawa keeps his eyes peeled for any shiny glints, any odd reflections on the ground. Unfortunately, his route takes him into shadowy places and the tops of roofs, places that would conceal the ring in complete camouflage. As the realization dawns on him, Aizawa feels his heartbeat quicken with a painful skip, but he forces himself to focus at his task rather than his growing anxiety.
He doesn’t know how long he searches—it feels like hours, and he’s hardly made any progress—when another group of students pass by and notice him. Aizawa pretends he doesn’t hear the “hushed whisper” of Ashido as she asks, “Hey, isn’t that Mister Aizawa?” to her companions, and continues on in his task..
To his dismay, they decide to investigate.
“Hey!! Mister Aizawa!!” Kaminari calls as the group rushes over. Aizawa wonders if it’s too late to act as if he still didn’t hear them and just bolt away while he still has the chance. Unfortunately for him, the second he blinks, he suddenly has five students right in front of him.
Kaminari bows low, soon followed by Ashido, Kirishima, and a hesitant Sero. “We failed you, Sir!” The blonde cries out with almost an anguish to his voice. “We’re so sorry!!”
“We’ll do better next time, we swear!!” Ashido adds on, just as emotional. “Just watch! We’ll train super hard during summer! Since, you know… we won’t be going to camp…!”
Ashido dissolves into sobs, and pulls Kaminari into a tight hug. Kirishima lets out a wallowing cry, and joins in, while Sero unsurely chuckles and adds on to the group hug. Bakugō, apparently the only sensible one of the group, huffs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.
“You fuckers are so annoying…” he grumbles, mostly to himself.
Aizawa rolls his eyes and forces himself to look upon the group. He almost wants to reveal his surprise, just so they’ll stop all of… this. But with the last of his patience, he refrains. “Can this wait? I’m busy.”
The group collect themselves and disperse. Ashido fans her face and sniffles, as Kirishima pats a hand to her shoulder. The redhead nods toward Aizawa, working through his own waterworks. “Sure thing, Sir. We’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing.”
“Yeah,” Sero adds on. “...What’re you doing, anyways?”
Aizawa stiffens. “Nothing that concerns you. Now go home.”
“Okay, sure thing!”
But just as they begin to leave, Midoriya’s group arrives, with the added Yaoyorozu, Jirō, and Aoyama. The teacher groans in dismay, knowing his meeting has just extended by another half an hour.
“Mister Aizawa!” Midoriya calls. “We had some questions about the camping trip!”
The boy visibly jumps as he makes eye contact with Bakugō, who only grunts and rolls his eyes with a indignant, but notably less aggressive, “Fuck off, Deku…”
Yaoyorozu steps in when Midoriya backs out, standing confidently between the two groups as she focuses on their teacher. “Mister Aizawa, we were wondering what kind of supplies we will need to pack to prepare for the terrain.”
“I’ll send an email with the details. Now go home. I’m busy.”
“What about sleeping arrangements, Monsieur?” Aoyama continues as if Aizawa wasn’t impatiently staring his students down and willing them to leave with his mind. “Will we be lodged, or will we slumber in the dirt like ruffians?”
Despite his word choice, Aoyama flaunces and smiles as usual, that ever-constant twinkle in his eye. It makes Aizawa’s own eyes burn.
Thankfully, Iida, the intense but saintly class president that he is, saves him from more questions. “If Mister Aizawa says he’s busy, then we should leave him be! I’m sure all of our questions will be answered once we’re at camp!”
Uraraka giggles. “But Tenya, you were the one who said we should check up on Mister Aizawa in the first place!”
Iida opens his mouth and raises his index finger to retort, but then realizes his error and slumps in defeat.
“‘Check up’?” Kirishima questions. “What for?”
“Well, when he passed by us, he looked like he was in a real hurry,” Uraraka answers. She turns her gaze to Aizawa, who cannot feel more ready to burst at the seams from how restless he feels. But her eyes soften to a disgustingly sympathetic, almost worried lilt; she purses her lips into a small pout. “We just thought that…”
“Thought what?” Aizawa growls out.
“..That maybe something was wrong?”
Perceptive. Of course he’ll die before admitting his own personal problems to his students, much less problems of this… triviality.
“Why would you think that?” He counters instead.
“No offense, Teach, but you always slump around like a sloth whenever you’re not doing hero stuff!” Ashido, ever the subtle one, answers for Uraraka. The brunette nods vigorously, their trains of thought apparently having run on the same track. “So seeing you running around all frantic-like is kinda… alarming.”
It’s a fair assessment. Aizawa is well aware of his usual lethargic movements, his constant trudging through life. He’d be worrying, too, if he saw someone like Nedzu or Midnight hurrying around.
But again, this is his problem, no one else’s. His mistake. Nobody needs to know that he’s only out here because he lost something. Something as precious and as minuscule as a wedding ring.
“I just lost something during the final exam, and I came here to find it,” Aizawa says. Then, when two thirds— two thirds? When did they get here? Why were they here?— of his class stare blankly at him, expecting him to elaborate more, he sighs. “It’s no big emergency; nothing to be alarmed about.”
“Wait, lost something?”
“What’d you lose?
“It’s not something small, is it? Losing something in this big of an area would be a nightmare…”
His class erupts in questions and comments, all ranging from concern to borderline intrusion. Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache that’s already sprouted in his head grow into a full-sized migraine. He’s about to activate his quirk just to get the students to shut up, but then one question stands out from the crowd.
“Can we help find it?!”
For a moment, the students quiet down at the question as well. Everyone turns to look at the culprit—Kirishima, of course—and once they take a minute to mull the prompt over in their heads, fifteen pairs of eyes swivel to bore into Aizawa.
Aizawa, himself, is at a loss. On one hand, additional eyes searching for the lost trinket would make the treasure hunt considerably easier. He’d cover more ground that way, explore the nooks and crannies he may miss on his own. On the other… it meant revealing an aspect of his life to his class he wasn’t, and will never, feel comfortable revealing.
His stubbornness takes over rational thought for once, convinced he can do this on his own, convinced the students are better off spending their time recuperating from the final exams. He stares them all down, before huffing a sigh and an indignant, “No.”
It’s impossible to miss the wave of disappointment that washes over his class. “But why not?!” Someone cries.
“As I’ve said before, it’s none of your concern. Now go home.”
“But Mister Aizawa, we could help—”
A flash of crimson eyes and a rising tangle of hair cut his class off before they can finish their protests. The small gasps some of his more jumpy students make almost cause Aizawa’s lips to quirk upwards. His trick still has its touch. Regardless, he steels his resolve and bores into all of his kids with an unblinking gaze.
“I won’t ask again. Home. Now. ”
The dispiritedness still lingers in the forms of his students’ slumped shoulders and saddened eyes, but one by one they nod and begin to shuffle away, each of them uttering a “Yes, Mister Aizawa…” as they depart.
The Erasure Hero breathes a sigh, of both relief and of… he supposes ‘fondness’ is the best word to describe it. Though infuriating, it was just the least bit touching that his class cared enough about his problems to want to sacrifice their own time to help him out. Almost made him feel warm inside.
But that warmth is quickly washed away with the pang of anxiety reminding him of his ever present task. The day keeps on going, and he is still no closer to recovering his lost ring. He begins his search again, forcing the unpleasant thoughts of permanently losing it from his mind.
Hizashi wouldn’t be angry if he did. Worried, saddened, but not angry.
Somehow, that thought makes him feel worse.
A vibration against his leg breaks him out of his thoughts. Aizawa digs his phone out, worry already enveloping him. Nobody except Hizashi, Nemuri, and once in a blue moon, All Might (to this day, he wonders why he willingly gave him his number) ever text him. And after such a taxing, frantic day, he can’t help but be overcome with nerves.
His screen lights up once again with a succession of messages, all tagged with his husband’s name. At first glance, Aizawa can spot the capslock and the innumerable amounts of exclamation points, but that’s just how Hizashi types. He opens the chat.
From Hizashi (4:45): GUESS WHO’S GOT SOME FREE TIME CUZ SOMEONE OFFERED TO PATROL MY AREA TODAY!!!!
From Hizashi (4:45): THAT’S RIGHT!!!!!
From Hizashi (4:45): THIS KOOL KAT!!!!
From Hizashi (4:46): SEE YOU AT HOME MR. GRUMPY MITTS!!!!!! ✨💓✨💓✨💓
At this point, he can feel the jagged crack in his heart splitting the organ in two.
With their hectic work schedules, it’s rare for them to find time for each other. The most they can manage is the time they have in their breaks at UA, and even that’s asking for a little much. Such news should make Aizawa’s entire week. But instead, all he can think of is how he’ll break the news to him. Greeting Hizashi with, “Hey Honey, good job on the final exams, glad you could make it home in time. By the way, you know that ring you put on my finger on our wedding day that’s absolutely priceless? Yeah, I lost it, ” doesn’t sound the least bit appealing.
His hand clenches around his phone, squeezing it until he is almost to the point of putting another fracture in the glass protection. Though he tries, he can’t bring himself to type out a reply. All he can do is leave the messages on read (which he knows Hizashi hates, but what can he do?) and turn back to the retreating mass that is his class. He swallows his pride, knowing this will help him in the long run but still pain him to bits, and opens his mouth.
“Wait.”
The students who lag behind the group hear his plea first, and their sudden stop alarms the front that something is up. One by one they all turn to their teacher, curious looks emblazoned upon their faces. Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, and that hand comes to rest upon the back of his neck. He’s not ready for this, but he supposes that doesn’t matter.
“You can help,” he finally sighs out.
All at once, the class rushes back to him, all hooting and hollering their excitement. They bombard him with a million questions, so many at once, he can’t even differentiate them. Knowing his quiet voice won’t be enough to calm the crowds, he activates his quirk. The intimidating combination of his crimson eyes and the rare reveal of himself that hides below his scarf and hair is enough to collectively shut everyone up.
“No more questions. And no one is to know about this outside of us,” he clarifies further once he pulls out his bottle of eyedrops. He places a drop in each burning eye before continuing. “Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, you lead the rest of the students through the routes you and I took through our exam. Chances are what I lost fell during one of our scuffles.”
The class begins to divide into semi-even groups, each hovering close to one of the aforementioned students.
“Sir?” Midoriya’s voice pipes up over the crowd. “I know you said no more questions, but I think it’s kind of a big one, so…” He pauses, running a hand through the back of his hair, almost nervous to meet his gaze. “What exactly are we looking for?”
Aizawa resists the urge to let out the long, frustrated groan of defeat that lingers in his lungs. But he resigns himself to his fate, reminding himself, ‘It’s for the best, it’s for the best…’ over and over again as he reveals it.
“A wedding ring.”
The calm before the storm. It takes a moment for it to really sink in. Then, chaos.
“Wait, you’re married?!”
“You’re married?!”
“No way! To like, an actual person? ” Kaminari, in particular, gasps. “But you’re like the sloppiest, most unkempt guy I’ve ever seen!”
Jirō punches him in the arm. “Shut the hell up, you idiot! God, you’re so tactless!”
Kaminari shrinks at the accusation, then smiles sheepishly in his teacher’s direction. “Sorry, Mister Aizawa! I didn’t mean that! You’re beautiful the way you are!”
Aizawa just rolls his eyes. But the comments keep rolling in.
“But how?”
“And to who?!”
“You lost the ring!? That’s awful!”
“Don’t worry, Mister Aizawa! We’ll help you find it!!”
“Let me go hooome! ”
Aizawa tunes out most of their questions, feeling his soul drain from his body with each one they throw at him. Right now feels like the perfect opportunity to just lay down on the concrete and let the earth consume him whole. But his lost ring continues to call out to him, weeping in Hizashi’s voice his name. And try as he might, he can’t just give up now.
“My personal life is none of your business,” he interrupts. “And until I find my ring again, I’m not taking anymore questions.”
“Sir!” Yaoyorozu’s hand shoots into the air. “As one of the students who battled against you in the finals, I would just like to say that I’m sorry for your loss, and I take partial responsibility for this.”
Aizawa frowns. “You make it sound like somebody died.”
“Well, yeah, Mister Aizawa!” Hagakure interjects. “If you come home, and your wife sees you without your ring, you’re as good as dead!”
A loud snort escapes him before he can stop it. His wife. What a hoot.
“I assure you, my safety over the matter is the least of my worries. All I care about is finding my ring again,” Aizawa responds. “And don’t blame yourself, Yaoyorozu. It’s my fault for not securing it better; it has nothing to do with you, nor Todoroki.”
Both students hum in response. Yaoyorozu shuffles a bit where she stands, staring at her wringing hands as she bites her lip. Todoroki, ever the eloquent one, brushes his hand against her arm and gives another small hum when he garners her attention.
So supportive.
“Regardless. You two lead the others through the routes you and I took,” Aizawa continues. “You’re looking for a black tungsten ring attached to a silver chain. It’s got an inscription on the inside that says…” He grimaces and heaves a sigh. He was not planning on revealing so much personal information today. “‘To the sunshine that pierces the night’.”
He promptly ignores Ashido’s squeal of, “That’s so romantic, Mister Aizawa!!”, Bakugō’s gripe about, “Didn’t take you for such a sap,” and the odd, under-the-breath utterance of “Revelry in the dark,” from Tokoyami. While he expected the first two, Aizawa can say with absolute honesty that he has no idea what the hell that last one means or if he should be concerned.
“That’s all you need to know. Now go.”
With that, the two halves of his class diverge into two different directions, though a small handful of students loiter around near Aizawa, determined to help him in his specific search. One of those students is Sero, who, when Aizawa latches his capture weapon up to the closest rooftop and begins to hoist himself up, attaches his tape to a nearby ledge and asks with an unwavering grin, “So Sir: if one of us finds your ring, will you give that person extra credit for the final?”
Aizawa stops in his climbing, and turns his head so slowly to face his student, his neck audibly cracks. He stares for a long, silent moment, the daggers in his eyes sending a visible shiver down Sero’s spine and morphing that grin into a grimace. He suddenly detaches his tape.
“Y-you know what? L-let’s just forget I asked!” He laughs with a forced effort, backing away, but too fearful to break eye contact with the teacher.
Aizawa grins. “Good idea.”
As expected, searching for a inch-large metal ring inside a square-mile-wide arena where every building, tree, and sidewalk crack has been perfectly rendered to resemble a populated cityscape without the populated part proves to be just the teeniest, tiniest bit difficult.
Yaoyorozu gets the smart idea to make a couple metal detectors with her quirk, and divides them between the three groups. Together, they scour through the concrete landscape, searching every bush and every crevice for any glint of metallic substance they can find. What Aizawa didn’t account for, however, was Todoroki’s ice pillar still lingering around even hours after the test in which it was created. The ground is flooded with the melted ice; by now, the pillar is small enough to easily maneuver around it, but the melted runoffs are what concerns Aizawa. If the small streams were strong enough, the water could have carried his ring anywhere.
The sun is making its way below the horizon, and even with the added help of his class, Aizawa is no closer to wearing his ring around his neck again than he was an hour ago. The students don’t seem to ever tire out; if anything, it looks almost as though they’re enjoying this treasure hunt. But Aizawa is sure they’re all going to want to head home soon. Some are already dying to go, if Bakugō’s complaints tell him anything (“If you want to leave, then leave, ” Aizawa’s told him five times already, and he knows Bakugō hears him loud and clear. But the boy just grumbles loudly and continues to not leave). Regardless of the exception, the students keep themselves in high spirits, often times trying to bring Aizawa’s haggard and clawing spirit up with theirs by showering him with reassurances that they’ll find his ring with in the next five minutes, they just know it.
Never have the encouraging words of teenagers both eased and sickened him so. And he’s sure if he ever has to listen to the constant beeping of metal detectors ever again, he might actually break something.
He runs a scarred hand through his unkempt hair, staring for a long moment at the colorful palette of sun-stricken clouds in the sky before glancing at his phone for the time. 6:42, the device reads, along with seven new messages from Hizashi. One asks Aizawa what he wants to have for dinner tonight, another asks if he’s still at school, inputting grades. The last five are in succession, wondering why in the world Aizawa hasn’t responded yet. He sighs as he leaves those messages on read, too.
Using his capture weapon, Aizawa lowers himself down to the ground. He calls for everyone’s attention, and once most everybody is facing him, he lets his head dip in shame. “That’s enough. You can head home now.”
Disappointed murmurs fill the air as his answer. “But Sir,” Midoriya starts, “we haven’t found your ring yet—”
“I know.” Aizawa sighs. “But that’s not your problem.”
“Just give us five more minutes, Mister Aizawa! We’ll find it!” Ashido calls out.
Aizawa shakes his head firmly. “You’ve been saying ‘five more minutes’ for the past hour,” he says. “You’ve all had a long day, and I never intended for you all to be wrapped up in my personal affairs.”
He chances a glance over his class. Most are paying attention, while others further in the back who probably didn’t hear him calling earlier continue to search. Every student who meets his eyes fixates him with something of a disappointment, not with him, surprisingly, but with themselves. Aizawa allows his eyes to slip close.
“Go home to your families. I’m sure they’ll all want to hear the results of your final exams.”
There is silence behind him from the students closest, and that’s probably how he hears Aoyama’s voice so clearly from so far away. The kid isn’t exactly the loudest in his class, but he adopts a certain theatricality to his voice that makes it difficult to mistake it for anyone else’s. Opening his eyes again, Aizawa spots the blonde a small ways away, apart from the crowd, leaning over Tokoyami’s shoulder. The two are crowded around one of the walls casing in a building, looking specifically at a tree with branches hanging just below a telephone wire.
Other students are turning around to watch them, too, so Aizawa knows he’s not just hearing what he wants to hear when he catches Aoyama saying,
“Did you find it, mon ami?”
Curiously, yet still hesitantly, Aizawa takes a few steps closer to the two. With a quiet voice, Tokoyami calls upon Dark Shadow, and then the creature reaches up to pick something out from one of the branches. Aizawa hardly has an eye for shiny things, but he swears he sees sunlight glinting off the surface of whatever they have just found. He swallows a lump in his throat, telling himself not to get his hopes up too much, but obviously he isn’t the only anxious one here.
“Is that it, ribbit?” Asui asks the two as she hops over. Tokoyami takes the item from Dark Shadow—a chain—and once he looks it over, turns to face Aizawa and holds out his hand. Asui, as well as several others, audibly gasp.
“I believe this belongs to you,” the bird boy says as Aizawa approaches. “It matches your description perfectly.”
With a slight tremble in his hand, Aizawa takes the chain from Tokoyami. He lets the familiar metal lie limp across his fingers before dragging it across until his index and thumb come to rest on the black ring dangling on the other end. Black tungsten, his finger size. Just for further verification that this is indeed his ring —and totally not because he’s feeling the waves of relief and gooey sentimentality crashing down on him—he reads the inscription inside.
With the day’s last streams of light, he reads,
To the sunshine that pierces the night
He manages a stiff nod. Then, with a choked voice, “This is it.”
His class erupts into cheers. Some voices are proclaiming relief, others congratulating Aizawa for being able to hold his ring in his hands once more, the rest shouting praises of Tokoyami and Aoyama (“I suppose, with our eyes for dazzling things, we make quite the pair!” Aoyama announces with a flourish to his new friend. Tokoyami surprisingly nods along). The overwhelming amount of noise around him is jarring, but for once Aizawa finds that he doesn’t quite mind.
“I told you we’d find it, Sensei!” Ashido says with a smirk. “And you doubted us.”
“I never doubted you. I just said you’d all be better off spending your time resting after your finals,” Aizawa responds. “Of course, your boundless energy left over from failing your exam probably needed to be spent elsewhere.”
Ashido lets out a strangled yelp of despair, the rest of her group sans Bakugō jeering and poking fun at her. “Oh shut up! You all failed too!” She yells back at them.
The other three soon dissolve into similar wails, some going as far as to cling to Bakugō for support, who quickly shoves them off.
“Now that you found your stupid ring, can I fucking go home already?” he grumbles.
Aizawa takes the time to look him straight in the eye. “I never said you had to stay here. In fact, I’ve implored you several times now to leave if you don’t want to be here anymore,” he explains, getting a kick out of seeing Bakugō’s lip twitching in agitation. “It almost seems like you’ve been staying here just to complain.”
Some gasps. Midoriya, in particular, looks fearful of whatever Bakugō will spit out (then again… when does he not?). But Kirishima breaks into a wide grin as he snakes an arm around Bakugō’s shoulders, hardening so the hot-headed boy can’t force his way out of his grip. “Aww!! Bakugō wanted to help!” he shouts to the rest of the class. “King Explosion Murder’s got a heart, after all!!”
“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair! I’ll kill you!”
“You know, you keep saying that, and yet we’re all still here. You keep up these idle threats, and no one’s gonna believe you.”
“Fuck you!”
Bakugō wiggles out of Kirishima’s grip once Aizawa cancels the two’s quirks. Once they’ve stepped away from each other, the underground hero allows himself to blink. “Don’t encourage him,” he says, then turns to the rest of the class.
He sighs. Now comes the hard part: thanking them.
“Thank you.”
He then slips the chain securely around his neck and turns to leave.
In their daze after such a lackluster expression of gratitude, it takes a moment for his students rush to follow after him.
“Wait, that’s it?” Uraraka asks in exasperation. “Aren’t you gonna tell us who the ring is for?”
“Me. It’s my ring.”
“You know what she meant, Teach,” Jirō calls. “Who’s your ‘sunshine’?”
“Yeah, Aizawa, you promised us an answer if we found it!” Kaminari adds.
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, but you implied it!” Kirishima shouts.
“I never did such thing.”
“Everyone, please! ” Iida calls out above all the rest. “If Mister Aizawa doesn’t wish to speak of his personal life, they we should respect his wishes and not intrude!”
‘Thank you, Iida,’ is what Aizawa almost gets to say aloud before he’s interrupted with a chorus of, “Oh don’t tell me you’re not even the least bit curious!” by almost half of his class.
His clear minority stance shuts Iida up shamefully quickly.
“Come on, Mister Aizawa, don’t leave us hanging,” Yaoyorozu surprisingly joins in, albeit a bit nervously. “Can you at least tell us if she’s a civilian or another pro?”
“No.”
“Ooh! Ooh! Can we guess who it is? Please, Mister Aizawa?” Hagakure asks, her bouncing uniform a clear indication of her excitement.
Aizawa sighs, but snorts. With the way their thought trains are going, they’re never going to arrive at the correct answer. May as well let them have their fun. “Knock yourselves out. Just don’t be disappointed when every single one of you is wrong.”
Undeterred, the first of the guesses ring out. “Midnight!” Sero yells out.
“Wrong.”
“Ms. Joke?!” Uraraka guesses.
He shudders. “Wrong.”
“Uhm… M-Mandalay from the Wild Wild Pussycats?” Midoriya pipes up. “I think I read somewhere that you’ve worked with them in the past, and with her personality, she seems like she might be your type….”
Aizawa has no idea where Midoriya gets his information, but he is oddly educated. Except for the ‘his type’ part. If he were interested in women, he’s sure Pixiebob is the one he would have fallen for. “A thoughtful choice. But wrong.”
“What about the other Pussycats? Ragdoll or Pixiebob?” Asui asks.
“Wrong and wrong.”
“Ryukyu?”
“Mount Lady?”
“Miruko?”
“Uwabami?”
“Recovery Girl??”
“ ....Dude. ”
“What?? It's possible!”
Aizawa wants to laugh. He really does. The suggestions just keep getting wilder and wilder, and soon, he’s fighting to keep a smile off his face.
“Keep guessing,” he taunts. “I’m sure you’ll get there, eventually. ”
“Can you at least tell us if we’re warm or cold?” Kirishima asks.
“Todoroki’s ice has never reached colder temperatures than you are now.”
They all groan in despair, but continue throw out a few more names. Some of which Aizawa loathes and some he has never even heard of before. But eventually, Bakugō finally decides to blow off some more steam.
“Oh my god, you fucking idiots, he’s GAY!”
Aizawa’s lips quirk the slightest bit upward. That shuts the class up for all of about two seconds before they’re back to yelling again.
“You can’t just assume something like that about our teacher!” Kaminari calls out. “It’s rude!”
“And you dumbasses keep assuming he’s fuckin’ straight! You tell me who’s fuckin’ rude!” Bakugō bites back.
“Still! He’s never said he is!” Hagakure argues.
“Well, it’s not like he’d have any reason to tell us directly,” Jirō reasons.
“But… is he?”
“I mean, it makes sense, but…”
They’ve all stopped in their tracks to ponder, but Todoroki has the sense to go the source for the real answer. “Mister Aizawa… are you gay?”
Aizawa continues walking until he has reached the escape gate, never turning back to face his students. “Keep those perception skills of yours about you, Bakugō. They’ll only help you become a better hero.”
He throws up a lazy hand to wave them goodbye before exiting the campus to the sounds of his students’ excited screams.
After dinner, once they’re busy washing dishes, Aizawa tells Hizashi to keep himself alert and be prepared to dodge questions the next time he comes in contact with his homeroom class. Hizashi seems uncertain, but Aizawa just leaves it at that. He then comes to rest his chest against Hizashi’s back, wrapping his still-wet arms around him even against his husband’s whines, his wedding ring set snugly around his finger.