Chapter Text
Shouta wasn't particularly fond of mornings. They usually went the same way: he woke, groggy and reluctant, sucked down some jelly drinks, and thought about students and villains and duties. Sometimes, he rolled over in his sleeping bag and groaned, allowing himself the luxury of wishing for more sleep.
Mornings were filled with sore eyes and itchy stubble, the quiet only broken by the sound of his own footsteps padding through his empty apartment.
This particular morning, walking across campus with his hands in his pockets, Shouta breathed in the fresh air, tasting it damp and muggy. It was still early, so the temperature was comfortable despite the humidity. Grey clouds blanketed the sky from horizon to horizon, dull and void of life, but perfectly serviceable as far as weather went. Shouta generally didn't worry about the weather, anyway; he couldn't change it, so it wasn't worth fussing over.
His eyes were stinging terribly, and he clenched his fists in his pockets to resist the urge to rub his knuckles into them. Normally he’d go to the staff room to catch up on any news, but he'd spilled his last bottle of eye drops earlier, and so was heading straight for his classroom, where he kept an emergency spare in the desk. There hadn't been time to go shopping in the last few days, between teaching and hero duty, but Shouta made a mental note to carve out some time for it later. If his eyes were suffering, he couldn't do either of his jobs properly, so the loss of time was necessary.
By the time he made it into his quiet, empty classroom, his eyes were outright burning. It was a familiar sensation, but Shouta still sighed with relief as he droppered moisture back into them, blinking rapidly. He made a mental note to ask Recovery Girl about the new brand she'd recommended recently — he had no hopes that it would solve his eye problems, but if the formula was as good as she said, it might still be an improvement.
Eyes more or less soothed, Shouta settled back into the comfortable rhythm of his morning. He sloped back to the staff room, which was warm with the familiar smell of slightly stale coffee and marker pens. Most of his colleagues were there, murmuring good mornings or nodding silently as he dropped into his chair.
Even Yagi, sitting at his desk on the opposite row, had finally learned that a brash, loud greeting wouldn't get him far in the mornings, and simply smiled at Shouta when their eyes met over the wall of monitors. Of course, Yagi himself seemed much less brash, and thus much more palatable, in general these days, now that he no longer paraded around in the showy character of All Might. Shouta wondered if it was uncharitable of him to no longer mentally refer to him as All Might, but thinking of him as Yagi, the person, didn't detract from his respect for what All Might had sacrificed for them all, so he tucked the thought away again.
The desk next to his was empty, which was unusual for this time of day, and Shouta frowned.
"Is Mic not here today?" He'd need to make arrangements for his class's morning lesson, if so.
Given his height, Yagi's head and shoulders were always visible over the monitors, so Shouta could clearly see the small, fleeting expression of concern on his face before it settled into calm again.
"Yamada is certainly here," Yagi said quietly. "He looked in briefly to check his pigeon hole, but said he was busy elsewhere this morning and left again."
Shouta gave a small grunt of acknowledgement, then eyed Yagi more carefully. "What aren't you telling me?"
Yagi's smile was small and gently sheepish. "Ah, I should know better than to try and get anything past you, Aizawa." He sighed quietly. "I'm sure it's nothing, but I couldn't help thinking Yamada looked a little… hm, I don't know, exactly. Withdrawn, perhaps? Suffice it to say that he was not singing, nor did he discuss the latest episode of last night's drama with Ectoplasm."
Shouta's eyebrow twitched. "That so?"
Yagi gestured helplessly with a large hand. "Like I say, it's probably nothing. I only noticed because it is unusual for him."
Shouta nodded, and turned back to his computer. It was unusual for Yamada, who was reliably as energetic in the mornings as any other time of day. Shouta wasn't too worried yet, though - there could be any number of reasons for the change, none of which would be helped by fretting.
Putting the thought on hold for now, he set to his normal morning work, catching up on marking, tweaking some lesson plans, and responding to concerned emails from parents, some of whom were having more trouble adjusting to their children living on campus than others.
It was oddly quiet without Yamada's humming and foot-tapping to disturb the silence, though Shouta had to admit it was easier to concentrate. He made some good progress before eventually slipping away to greet his class for the morning.
Class A were boisterous as ever, their fresh-faced energy filling the classroom as they debated over the small ethical problem Shouta had set them before retiring behind his desk. He left them to it for the most part, only interceding when he felt they'd stepped over a line — he had to haul Bakugou back from exploding Kaminari after a particularly cheeky comment, and gave a stern word to Hagakure about shrieking in the classroom. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Hagakure — she was frequently excitable, but wasn't normally quite so noisy about it.
Still, they were clearly meshing well as a class, and Shouta felt the familiar warmth of satisfaction as they worked together, falling into team roles without needing to be pushed.
Iida just managed to get them all quiet and back in their seats by the time the bell rang, and they all watched the door expectantly, Shouta included. This was Yamada's favourite time to shine — he loved to play his Present Mic part and make an entrance with loud enthusiasm and a pun or two about the day's lesson.
When his slender form appeared in the doorway, though, there was no dramatic pose, no jokes, and only a plain smile as he slunk in. His yellow glasses were pushed right up, hiding his eyes.
"Morning, kiddos," he said, nodding to the class. Shouta watched the fingers of one hand tap a staccato beat against his leather-clad thigh. "Thanks, Eraser. I'll take it from here."
Shouta paused for a split second, but it wasn't like he could ask Yamada if he was okay in front of twenty nosey students — some of them were already eyeing him curiously, and he could hear Midoriya beginning to mumble to himself with concern — so he simply nodded, slipped his hands into his pockets, and left the room.
Still, Shouta wasn't one to let go of a potential problem once he'd decided it was worthy of worry, and nor would he ever pass up the opportunity for a lesson. So he pulled his phone from his pocket as he walked and quickly tapped out a message.
Aizawa [9:05am] New task, fact finding/espionage type. Investigate why Present Mic is acting different today. Report back with findings and methods later. Don't break any rules, and don't raise suspicions.
The reply was instantaneous, as it always was.
Shinsou [9:05am] Got it. I assume brainwashing Mic-sensei to question him would be breaking the rules?
Shouta snorted.
Aizawa [9:06am] Yes. And don't text in class.
Shinsou [9:06am] Pot, kettle, black?
Aizawa [9:06am] I'm not in class, unlike you. Focus.
Shinsou [9:07am] Sorry sensei
Shouta's mouth lifted in a tiny smirk. Shinsou could be cheeky, but he was a good kid at heart, determined and hard-working. Satisfied that he was killing two birds with one stone, Shouta stowed his phone away and went about the rest of his morning.
He could always ask Yamada if he was okay later, after all.
~
The rest of the day continued on in its muggy way, warming up until Shouta was shrugging uncomfortably as his jumpsuit stuck to him.
Shinsou messaged him towards the end of lunchtime, and they met in one of the small staff lounges. Yagi liked to offer students tea when he met with them, but Shouta wasn't here to be soft with Shinsou, who walked in casually, pushing violet hair back off his sweaty forehead in a habitual movement. Shouta made a mental note to quiz Nedzu on why the school didn't have better air conditioning, given its funds.
"So, findings?" Shouta asked immediately, as Shinsou folded himself onto a stool.
"Yeah," Shinsou started, raising one eyebrow. "I was curious about why I was looking into Mic-sensei, of all people, but then we had English and I could see it for myself. Pretty much everyone commented on it, said he was obviously having a bad day and stuff, but nobody really knew why." He shifted under Shouta's steady gaze, scratching his neck. "Uh, I kind of asked around, but the most I found out was from Midoriya."
Shouta restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his problem child had gotten involved somehow. "Go on."
"So Midoriya was in the cafeteria, muttering up a storm about Present Mic facts and possible reasons for his different behaviour, and I managed to gather that it's, uh, Mic's birthday today?"
"Hm." Shouta hid his pang of guilt by narrowing his eyes and settling his chin into his capture scarf. He'd forgotten Yamada's birthday was this week.
"So my conclusion is that maybe he's one of those people who gets depressed about birthdays?"
Shouta knew this to be untrue, given the amount of crazy birthday celebrations he'd had to avoid over the years, but there was no way for Shinsou to have known that.
"Sorry it's not much information," Shinsou continued, looking sheepish. "I didn't really know how else to figure it out without spying on Mic-sensei directly, and he vanished straight after class finished."
Watching the boy shift uncomfortably on his stool, Shouta realised his narrow-eyed expression was making him nervous and quickly shook his head.
"No, that's fine. You did well, considering the vague task I gave you."
Shinsou looked like he was trying to hide his pleasure at this praise under a lazy smile. His gaze was still sharp on Shouta, though - tired though he may look, Shinsou was a bright and observational kid.
"So, was there something else I should've figured out?" Shinsou's eyes glinted, betraying his curiosity, and then widened with a sudden thought. "Or did you genuinely need the information?"
Shouta raised an eyebrow. "Does that affect how you would have approached the task?"
"No?"
"Good. It shouldn't." Shouta paused briefly, considering. "But well done for asking - keeping an enquiring mind will help you see what's under the surface in all sorts of scenarios." He levelled Shinsou with a flat, ironic look. "Just don't turn it back on me."
Shinsou's expression split into a smart grin as he nodded. Shouta never went easy on him — quite the opposite, actually — but he was always clear with his praise when Shinsou did something right; Shinsou didn't have the benefit of Hero classmates to reward and encourage him, after all.
As lunch ended and Shinsou disappeared into the throngs of students in the corridors, Shouta found himself sighing deeply. He'd managed to successfully avoid any excess socialising for a couple of months now, but given that Yamada was upset about something mysterious on his usually favoured birthday, Shouta felt the dread inevitability of a busy evening forming, tinged with guilt that he hadn't realised the date for himself.
~
The afternoon passed in its usual flurry of lessons and students being sent to Recovery Girl's office (seeing the tape burns up Sato's arms, Shouta made a mental note to remind Sero to try and avoid excess skin contact during training), and he even managed to catch a quick nap in his sleeping bag, so all in all, he was quite satisfied. Except, that was, for the looming problem of Yamada.
Sticky and weary of the day's heat, Shouta made quick work of searching the classrooms once the school day ended, but there was no sign of Yamada, much as he'd suspected. In the staff room he found Kayama, leaning back in her chair and kicking one heel-clad foot as she spoke soothingly to someone on the phone — a nervous parent, Shouta gathered. She caught his gaze as he lingered in the doorway, trying to assess how long she'd be tied up in the call for, and beckoned him over.
"Yes, yes of course he is," she crooned. "That's our main priority here at UA, and every single one of my sweet students is precious to me personally, you can trust in that."
She arched one fine eyebrow at Shouta as the person on the other end launched into a long, rabbiting speech.
"Yamada?" Shouta said, low and quiet so as not to be heard.
Her other eyebrow lifted to join the first, and she smoothly shifted so the phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear, freeing her hands.
“He seemed off today,” she signed, red fingernails flashing. All the teachers at UA knew some sign language as a job requirement, and in fact, many heroes knew some basics, too. Shouta had learned it back in high school when Yamada had first experienced problems with his hearing, and it came in very useful for moments like this.
“I thought so too,” Shouta signed back. “It's his birthday today.”
“I know.” Kayama gave him an appraising look and a smirk. “Clearly you didn't, though.”
"No," she said out loud, as the voice in her phone lifted in query. "Not at all, he's a very good boy, one of the best in my class, in fact."
Shouta waited until the voice had resumed its nervous jabbering.
“Do you know where he is?”
Kayama wrinkled her nose, even as she purred a non-committal but comforting answer down the phone.
“I'm not sure,” she signed. “But if he's not on campus, then you could try the izakaya down the road. You know the one.”
Shouta did know the one; it was a popular meetup spot for after-work drinks and socialising for UA staff, given its proximity to the school. The owner and other patrons were now well-accustomed to the presence of Pro Heroes, and kept a comfortably casual atmosphere. He nodded gratefully to Kayama, who simply wiggled her elegant fingers in a goodbye wave and returned her attention to her call.
After sending a request to Yagi to be on call for Class A's dorms for the evening, which he happily accepted, Shouta headed out straight away, seeing no reason to linger.
The dull cloudbank still lowered overhead, oppressive and grey, and Shouta's skin grew horribly sweat-slick under his clothes as he walked. It felt like someone had put a lid on the sky, trapping the city like insects in a jar, with no fresh air or clean sun to burn off the humidity. He sighed to himself, pacing steadily down the pavement, feeling grey inside and out.
It didn't take too long to reach his destination. The izakaya was tucked down a pedestrianised alley, haphazard with buildings and signs and people. It was a small place, squeezed in with its neighbours like a group of tightly packed mushrooms growing in the shade of the city, and was decorated by the traditional lanterns outside, their glow just barely visible now in the daylight.
Shouta ducked through the doorway without hesitation, scanning the interior quickly as he nodded in recognition of a staff member's cheerful greeting. As he'd expected, it was quiet inside at this early hour on a weekday. He ignored the small selection of tables, looking straight to the long bar, eyes immediately drawn to the figure with the ridiculously striking hair; at least Yamada was always easy to spot in his hero costume. He was sitting in the most tucked away corner, all long legs and elbows folded onto his bar stool. Nursing a nearly empty beer glass, his head was dropped forward as if contemplating the remaining inch of amber liquid, shoulders hunched. One booted foot bounced on the rung of the stool. Everything about his body language screamed ‘brooding’, but Shouta ignored the signs and approached anyway.
Catching the eye of the man behind the bar, Shouta muttered his order, already planned out over the course of the afternoon, and slid into the stool next to Yamada. At least it was a decent spot in the bar - they had a good view of all the exits, and their backs were to a wall.
Yamada's eyes slid to regard him through the yellow shield of his glasses.
"Oh, hey, man," he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, dutifully raising his head to shoot Shouta a wan smile. He twisted his glass idly, leaving a pattern of wet rings on the glossy wooden bartop. "Didn't, uh, expect to see anyone here tonight, least of all the elusive Eraser."
Shouta snorted, leaning his forearms onto the bar. "Didn't expect to be here myself."
Yamada smiled again, crookedly showing one corner of his white teeth, but didn't attempt further conversation. It was no cooler here than outside, despite the fan whirring overhead, but Shouta ignored the discomfort and settled himself in. Clearly this was going to take a while.
After a couple of silent minutes, the bar staff returned with Shouta's order. Pulling the cool glass of beer towards himself, Shouta pushed the other glass with two fingertips until it was in front of Yamada.
"For you," he said, eyeing the drink dubiously. Knowing Yamada was fond of cocktails — the more ridiculous and inventive, the better — he'd researched this ahead of time. They didn't normally do birthday presents, but Shouta figured he owed Yamada this much, considering he'd forgotten completely. Served in a large martini glass, rim frosted with multicoloured sugar sprinkles, the drink was a swirl of creamy white and violent pink, and shimmered in the low bar lighting. Topped with cream, glitter, and various other decorations, the drink's final flourish was all drama — as Yamada's head jerked up in surprise, the bartender flicked a lighter, and a sparkler fizzed to life.
The bright, hot sparks of light reflected in Yamada's glasses, and Shouta watched in quiet satisfaction as his mouth literally fell open.
"Happy birthday," Shouta muttered. "I'm sorry I forgot to say it earlier today."
Yamada's mouth was working silently as he stared at the drink, bright and obnoxiously cheerful against the dark bar.
"It's birthday cake flavour," Shouta added, feeling the need to fill the gap until Yamada's brain rebooted. "I thought that was appropriate."
Yamada finally snapped his mouth shut, and took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Yeah, I love cake."
Shouta grunted. "Cheers, then."
Yamada finally met his eye, and they tapped glasses. Shouta wiped away a stray sprinkle before taking a long draught of his beer. It was good, cool and refreshing in a savoury kind of way. Yamada sipped at his concoction, licking away cream, and sighed appreciatively.
"Thanks, man," he said, sounding like he meant it.
Shouta waved a lazy hand. "How about you show your gratitude by telling me what's going on with you?"
"Huh?" Yamada's eyes widened. "Dunno what you mean, nothing of interest here except my kickin' style." He gave Shouta a half-hearted grin, and then buried his face back in his drink. Shouta remained unconvinced, watching him with one disbelieving eyebrow raised when he finally put the glass down.
"Mic," he said flatly. "If you're going to lie, at least make a good job of it. Kaminari lies about his homework more smoothly than what you just did. Do better."
Yamada winced. "Ahh," he sighed, fiddling with the paper umbrella in his drink. "Guess I deserved that."
"You did," Shouta said promptly, making Yamada snort with surprised laughter.
The mirth died away, though, and with it all of Yamada's weak attempts at holding up a facade. Without the pale smiles, he just looked tired, tinged with something like wistfulness around the edges. He made no move to speak, just stared back down into his drink in the same posture Shouta had found him in.
Shouta drank his beer, letting the silence draw out more of Yamada's honesty.
The izakaya was filled with quiet, punctuated only by the occasional murmur of the scant customers and staff, the fan whirring overhead, and the faint rumble of a dishwasher in the kitchen.
When one of the staff approached them, Shouta stepped in before Yamada could plaster a polite smile on his face, and ordered some dishes to share, along with more drinks.
He'd remembered the food here being quite good, and wasn't disappointed; the grilled fish was buttery-tender, the chicken crispy and juicy, and the edamame popped out of their shells cleanly, bright and fresh and salty. It had been a while since Shouta had been out, let alone eaten anything other than jelly drinks and his own functional cooking, so it was nice to remember that good food did exist.
Shouta noted that Yamada was eating well, too; whatever was bothering him clearly wasn't bad enough to ruin his appetite. They wordlessly shared plates and clinked glasses and reordered until Shouta felt the warm buzz of the alcohol loosening up his limbs, and Yamada's cheeks were beginning to flush a soft rosy pink.
Finally, Yamada lowered his chopsticks, and sighed heavily. "Hey, Aizawa?"
Shouta raised one eyebrow at the use of his name rather than the casual 'Eraser' he was accustomed to hearing.
"Mm?"
"Do you ever feel old?" Suddenly warming to his topic, Yamada didn't wait for a reply before plunging onwards. "Like, we're getting older every year, man. I'm 31 right now— that's some crazy shit."
Shouta considered this. "Everyone gets older. That's just part of living."
"Jeez, I know that. It's just..." Yamada sighed again. "I see the kids at school, all optimistic and full of life and joy, and so damn young, and I think about how long ago that was for us, and how many years have passed."
"Yamada, you're just barely into your 30's," Shouta said with a frown. "That's not even middle-aged."
Yamada gave him a wonky smile. "Yeah, that's true. I guess it's not the number bothering me, exactly. It's more about how I feel? I just, I dunno." He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Where did my fun youth go, y'know?"
Shouta was vaguely frustrated at the lack of logical arguments he had for Yamada. Normally his reason could win out against any number of presented issues, but right now, reaching for the answers was like grabbing water.
"Look, Yamada," he said uncomfortably. "You're not old."
"Maybe not," Yamada said, picking his chopsticks back up. "I definitely feel it, though."
They sank back into silence, each of them instantly buried in their own thoughts. Shouta was trying to tease the conversation open, running it over in his head like a puzzle so that he could find possible solutions. It was so unusual for Yamada to sink into a crisis like this that Shouta found himself unmoored. Shit, Yamada barely brought any problems to him at all these days - it wasn't really how their friendship worked.
It was a memory of Ashido, of all things, that eventually sparked an idea in Shouta's mind.
They'd finally settled their bill and left the izakaya, breathing in the damp evening air as they stepped outside. It was marginally cooler than it had been earlier, now that the sun had set, but only barely. They travelled through quiet streets and pools of yellow lamplight, populated by night bugs flying in dizzy loops. Shouta walked with the careful deliberation of someone over-compensating for their tipsiness, placing each foot carefully, while Yamada just wove and stumbled freely.
Shouta was still thinking back over their conversation from earlier - they'd barely spoken since, beyond necessities, so it was fresh in his mind. 'Where did my fun youth go?', Yamada had said, trying and failing to look casual. Something about that phrasing had niggled at Shouta, and as he walked through UA's gates, seeing the dorm buildings clustered in the distance, he realised what it was:
A couple of days ago, Shouta had caught Ashido trying to persuade some of her classmates to do something stupid that involved Sero's tape, loud music, and an outrageous excess of cookies.
"C'mon guys!" she'd wheedled. "You know you want to!"
Kaminari seemed half convinced, as did Hagakure, judging by the way her shoes hopped up and down with excitement, but the rest of the group were hesitating.
"Don't you feel like you're gonna miss out if you don't do something crazy sometimes? We're young, we're meant to have fun! Enjoying yourself is, like, the whole point of life!" This impassioned speech had won her friends over, and had promptly earned them all a detention when they ignored Shouta's verbal warnings.
And now it was prompting Shouta's thought process. Maybe that was what Yamada needed - some time to enjoy himself as a person, free of responsibilities and duty. They were both passionate about their careers, to the point that it was a life more than a job, but maybe Yamada just needed some fun so he could feel like himself again and leave behind this false sense of old age he'd picked up.
Shouta didn’t know whether it was the drinking, the lingering guilt, or the way Yamada’s mouth was slightly pulled down at the corners, but he suddenly felt convinced that he was going to be the one to solve this problem.
"Mic," he said abruptly. "What are you doing on Sunday?"
"Huh?" Yamada stumbled a little as he jerked in surprise at this sudden shattering of the silence. "I've got a guest appearance on an early morning radio show, but nothing after that. Why?"
Shouta sighed, already regretting his next words. "Keep the day free. I'm going to take you somewhere."
Yamada stopped dead, glasses slipping down his nose as he stared open-mouthed at Shouta. He blinked a couple of times and then raised his hands as a grin began to stretch across his face. “I think there’s something wrong with my hearing aids,” he signed, eyes growing comically wide. “Because I’m pretty sure I just heard mysterious loner Eraserhead inviting the super cool and friendly Present Mic out to socialise, completely of his own accord.”
Shouta gave him a flat glare. “I take it back.”
Yamada staggered dramatically. “What?! Noo, Eraser, c’mon man, I’m just teasing!”
“Hm.”
Shouta started walking again, letting Yamada’s wittering protests wash over him, and buried a reluctant smile in his scarf. Tomorrow he would need to actually think of a plan to follow through on this impulsive invitation, but tonight, he was content to hear the loudness come creeping back into Yamada's voice.