Chapter Text
Class had only just started, and Uraraka tensed as the numb feeling of dread washed over her.
The man standing before them, their teacher, had this look of utter apathy on his face as he stood behind his desk, slipping off his garish yellow monstrosity of a sleeping bag. No one dared to make a sound as he spoke, his voice as bland as the expression on his face.
“My name is Shouta Aizawa, and I will be your homeroom teacher for the year.” The dread rocketed up her tension, and she knew others in the room were feeling the same. At least, the ones who recognized the name from the whispers traveling around the school as they arrived this morning.
Their homeroom teacher had a reputation.
And judging by the knowing glint in his eyes as he recognized the clear tension in the room, he was very well aware of it.
“Good to see that some of you already know what to expect from me. That means I don’t have to sugarcoat this,” he drawled, looking more amused the more people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “To confirm some of rumors you undoubtedly heard, yes, I do have a reputation for expelling students, and I do have the highest expulsion rate of any other teacher at UA. No, I do not have the patience to deal with any students I determine to have zero potential. And yes…”
An eerie smirk crossed his face, and Uraraka could barely stop herself from leaning back away from the man. “I did, in fact, expel a majority of my homeroom class last year. And no, I will not hesitate to do it again if I see fit.”
The silence finally broke, with gasps of shock and mutters of disbelief scattering around the room as everyone worked themselves up into a panicked frenzy. One boy, one that Uraraka had noticed eyeing the girls a little too closely and had overheard from taller girl with a ponytail had made inappropriate grabs at her before class, suddenly shot up from his seat, standing on his chair as he cried out, “You can’t do that! It's not fair-”
“ Sit. Down . ” Silence reigned once again, and she swore their teacher’s red eyes were glowing as he spoke. “Here at UA, you will find that we do not conform to typical school teaching practices and policies. In my class, I have the leeway to teach as I see fit, and anyone I deem to have zero potential is immediately recommended for expulsion.”
“Why?” The question slips out before she can stop it, and she jolts when the teacher’s gaze snaps to her. She does not cower though, taking a deep breath as she elaborates. “Why would you decide someone has zero potential?...”
He stares at her, seeming to assess her, as if he were deciding whether or not to give her an answer. Then, he bluntly states, “Because you are training to be heroes. This isn’t a career to be taken lightly. Your potential could be the difference between life or death .” A pause, letting the words, the meaning sink in. “I am here to teach you, not send you to an early grave. I will not accept anything less.”
And despite the harshness behind his words, Uraraka found the tension in her shoulders finally easing. This was not an act of cruelty on his part: his words, his coldness, his harsh reality were all coming from a place of genuine care . Because they were in heroics. They were all signing on for a dangerous career, a career where one wrong move, the wrong decision, even just being slightly underprepared could lead to their or a citizen’s demise.
And while she couldn’t quite smile, she found herself slowly nodding, a small bit of warmth settling in her heart knowing that no matter what their teacher threw at them, some part of him did truly care for them.
Seeming satisfied with her reaction, he turned his attention back to the class as a whole. “Now, due to my expulsion rate and the fact that UA curriculum is so flexible, we do have a bit of a...conundrum this year.”
A hand shot up, and after Aizawa nodded his head, Uraraka turned to watch as a familiar classmate shot up from his seat. Stiff as a board and arm chopping through the air in a way that made Uraraka have to hold back giggles, Tenya Iida loudly queried, “Sir, does this have anything to do with the empty desk in the back corner of the room?And why only 19 students are present?”
Sighing heavily, Aizawa dropped into his chair at his own desk. “Yes, yes it does have something to do with the desk, though you all only have nineteen because a student was expelled this morning due to improper conduct off school grounds.” He said the last bit so casually, not noticing how everyone paled at the fact that the first day had only just begun and someone was already expelled. “I know I said that I expelled most of my class last year. Which is true. However, what I neglected to elaborate on was that I expelled all but one student last year.”
The low murmurs began to rise in the room, and she could have sworn that she saw the loud and explosive blond kid, the one that had been telling off and even coming close to threatening Iida before class, stiffen in his seat.
“Due to having only one student in my class last year, I was able to streamline my teaching style and have more focused, intensive training sessions with him,” Aizawa elaborated. “That paired with the student’s above average learning capabilities, and well…” He shrugged as he casually stated, “I kind of ran out of things to teach him.”
Silence. Then, a confused, “You mean you finished the first year curriculum with him?...”
Aizawa blinked. “No. I mean he finished all of the UA heroics curriculum.” A pause. “Oh and the optional supplementary courses.” Then, he added, “I got bored and made up some stuff towards the end of the semester too.”
Okay, Uraraka’s tension was back with a vengeance.
The pink haired girl off to her right, audibly gulped. “Our senpai sounds terrifying .”
Aizawa shrugged. “Sometimes.”
A voice behind her whispered, “He didn’t even try to deny it.”
“But yes, it has become an issue for the school,” their teacher continued, seeming to either not notice or not care about the rising panic in the class. “While he was able to gain his provisional license over the summer, the Hero Commission will not budge on allowing him to get his hero license until he reaches 18 years of age. Which is even worse considering the problem child had already skipped a grade before coming to UA-”
“He’s our age?!” the invisible girl shrieked as the explosive blond loudly swore, his hands gripping the edge of his desk tightly as he seemed to realize something.
The glowing red eyed glare was back. “Yes. He is.” Groaning in exasperation, he rose from his desk. “Thankfully, Nedzu had a solution on how to occupy his next few years at UA.” Striding towards the door, he yanked it open and ordered out into the hall, “Problem Child, get in here.”
He was decidedly not what she was expecting.
Carrying a well worn, bright yellow backpack over his shoulder, a hastily and poorly done tie around his neck, and just the slightest bit of a nervous hunch, the boy in question was nothing short of cute . Like, not the overtly attractive sort of cute, but the ‘I want to put you in my pocket and take you home with me’ sort of way. She had the overwhelming urge to both protect him and pat the fluffy, dark green curls on his head.
And maybe pinch his freckled cheeks while she was at it.
The boy did his best to stand tall in front of them, nervously smiling, and she became acutely aware of the scar over his left brow, followed shortly by the more prominent scars along the hands gripping tightly to his bag. “Meet Izuku Midoriya,” Aizawa introduced as said boy waved nervously at the class. “Class 1-A’s first ever teaching assistant and your senpai.”