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“...and that’s fifty pushups. You’re done for the day.”
Shinsou wipes the sweat from his forehead before he slowly and carefully attempts to stand up, letting out an exhausted wheeze as he pauses at a crouch.
His mentor sits beside him, setting a paper plate between the two of them with one hand as he tries and fails to undo his ponytail with the other, and Shinsou raises an eyebrow.
“Orange slices? What are you, my mom?”
Aizawa rolls his eyes, “I bought ‘em in bulk for some reason yesterday. The discount tempted me. I thought I could share them since it’s not really like I eat much.”
“Oh, thanks then, I guess?”
Hitoshi picks up a slice before tossing himself back into the soft grass behind him, watching his teacher scowl as he mercilessly squeezes the essence of the orange out onto his forehead.
“Have you never eaten an orange in your life, child?!”
Shinsou snorts as Shouta throws his arms up in exasperation, “I forgot to bring water, okay?”
“We could’ve picked up a pack of bottles on the way here if you had just told me!”
The dark-haired man smacks his student ever so gently upside the head and it makes the boy laugh harder.
“I don’t wanna waste your damn money!” He chuckles, his lavender hair being relentlessly ruffled.
“I just used my money on some oranges for you, doofus! Like, it wasn’t that much but they were still for you!”
“You’re not gonna eat them? You just said you were only sharing them!”
Aizawa shakes his head with a grin, “No, I don’t like fruit. It’s all for you.”
Shinsou dramatically gasps, pretending to be appalled.
“You? Lying!” The purple-haired apprentice declares with a ridiculous accent, “Preposterous!”
“I’m about to whoop your ass,” Aizawa mutters, leaning close with a furrow in his brow, though there’s a clearly playful smile on his face.
“Let’s do it baby, I know the law!”
“Only because of me, now gimme a sec to let my hair down already.”
“Because you’re gonna fight me?!”
“No, because my ponytail’s too tight!”
The sun rolls down the sky quicker than the two expect, soon painting their background with rich, fruity colors. This, unfortunately, means that Shinsou must head back to the dorms according to his mentor’s strict schedule. He grabs his UA-print drawstring bag and whips it over his shoulder as he stands up, brushing grass and pollen off of his exercise clothes.
“Wanna take any oranges back with you?”
Hitoshi shakes his head, holding a hand up in deniance.
“You could put ‘em in a jungle juice.”
“Are you really encouraging me to break the law?”
Aizawa raises an eyebrow with an exaggerated shrug and his student bursts out cackling.
“I don’t know if we have enough room anyway, Kaminari and Kirishima filled the damn communal fridge with cheap knock-off energy drinks and I don’t have enough money to buy one for my room.”
“I can buy you one!” Shouta insists, and though the purple-haired boy is endeared by the gesture he shakes his head again.
“Like I said, I don’t want you wasting money on me. A fridge is way way more expensive than some oranges anyway.”
Aizawa boos him as he starts back on the cement pathway through the park, making Hitoshi snicker gently to himself.
He turns around to wave at Aizawa a last time before leaving him behind for the night and shouts thoughtlessly, “Bye Dad!” But as he gets on the subway and sits down he realizes just what he said and wheezes, clutching his chest as if he’s having a heart attack.
He didn’t mean to do that! Like sure, he sees Mr. Aizawa as a father figure, but he didn’t have to know that! No, he can’t know that! But what excuse does he have for that stupid blunder? Whatever he says, Mr. Aizawa will see right through! That man has eyes and intellect of pure steel!
His wheeze dwindles into a soft hiss as he slowly leans back in his seat, behaving almost as if he’d just been killed.
Well, there’s no use ignoring what happened, he might as well fess up about his... feelings ...now.
Ugh, gross. Feelings.
The next day was Saturday though, so it wasn’t like he really had any chance of encountering his teacher like...anywhere.
Unless? Unless...Unless.
Alright, so maybe banging on Aizawa’s door at 10 PM on a Friday Night wasn’t as much of a cerebral epiphany as he had thought on the terribly mentally overwhelming subway, but maybe it was something. I mean, he at least answered the door, though incredibly disgruntled and...sweaty?
“Uhh...Did I interrupt something?”
“No, but you forced me to crawl out of my 9-Blanket Movie Cocoon so you might as well have.”
Shinsou snorts, “Oh, I’m so sorry, yeah, I’ll just let you suffer heat stroke in the middle of Mamma Mia and die.”
Shouta rolls his eyes and ruffles Hitoshi’s hair before letting him in, pulling a sweater he finds on the couch over his raggedy t-shirt, which had been elegantly decorated with cat hair by his millions of felines, before sitting at the kitchen counter and patting the seat beside him.
“So what’s up? You safe and everything?”
“Yeah, I’m all good, I just…”
“Are you here to talk to me about calling me Dad?”
The boy shudders as he’s forced to remember, “Yeah, I, uh...Yeah.”
Aizawa is silent for a minute, giving him a serious look, but soon gets caught up in a bout of quiet, amused chuckles.
“It’s really not that big of a deal, I promise.” The teacher reassures, resting a hand on his apprentice’s shoulder.
“It is, Mr. Aizawa!” Shinsou whines, “It’s weird and embarrassing!”
He covers his face with the palms of his hands and folds over in his seat, trying almost too hard to hide the ashamed flush on his face.
“Everybody’s done it, young child, I can assure you this from experience.”
“I don’t want to encourage it, though!”
Shouta rolls his eyes, amused, but a tender smile crosses his face, “I think it’s endearing, really. That’s why I don’t care much if you do it, y’know.”
Shinsou wiped his abashed tears away with a sniff, swinging his legs gently.
“Really?” he inquired with a soft tone.
“For sure, Besides….nah, nevermind.”
The purple-haired kid raises a puzzled brow, “What?”
“No, it’s nothing, I’ve already gotten pretty personal with you.”
“Nah, tell me!”
Shouta shakes his head as he stands up from his seat, pulling the sweat and t-shirt underneath it back to their original position.
“Nope,” he detests, “Go back to bed, It’s almost curfew.”
“But-”
“Shoo!”
Shinsou lets out one last long, drawn out whine as he gets up and begins trudging towards the dorms. What was he going to say? He’ll never find out now, that man’s as open as a locked door.
Unless? Unless...damnit. He needed to stop listening to Kaminari’s weird American podcasts.
Well, sure, maybe knocking on his mentor’s door the next night at 2 AM wasn’t any better the second time around, but hey, as long as Mr. Aizawa doesn’t get fired for fraternizing with a student it’s not that big of a deal. It will at least suffice until he can think of a better plan for next time.
“What do you want, Problem Child?” The teacher finally answers, leaning in the door with a brush in one hand and an electric razor in the other.
“I thought Midoriya was Problem Child?”
“All of you are problem children. Now if you could speak quickly, I’m kinda busy having a midlife crisis and copying my Mid-20’s side-shave from memory.”
Shinsou shrugs, “Whether this goes quickly or not is kinda...up to what you have to say to me and what it takes to get it out of you.”
Shouta’s casual composure drops, and he furrows his brows in confusion and concern.
“Is this about what I didn’t tell you the other night?”
Hitoshi nods, resulting in a sigh from the older man, whose shoulders slump forward.
“Look,” he huffs, gesturing with the free fingers on the hand holding the brush, “it wasn’t anything big, I just wanted to say I’m fine with being a father figure to you but I didn’t want to get personal with a student because that’s weird. Now shoo.”
Shinsou scowls as he’s waved away, but then a thoughtful expression washed across his face, “Do you...see me as a son?”
He relaxes as he says this, expecting it to be seen as a stupid question (though Mr. Aizawa always says there’s no dumb questions, even if he treats most like they are) and to be met with a casual eye-roll and a bout of sarcasm, but was surprised when Aizawa’s expression and posture became stiff and a discomfited flush blossomed across the bridge of his nose and through his cheeks.
“...Maybe I do. Now shoo, go on.”
The young boy pauses and turns around, concern laced through his expression.
“What, really? Hey, wait, c’mon, you have Eri.”
“Eri’s temporary,” Shouta mumbles, eyes focused on the floor of the porch, “I can’t keep her, I’m just fostering her until she finds a permanent home.”
“So why don’t you keep her?” Shinsou insists, gesturing almost frustratedly with his hands.
“Shinsou you don’t understand,” Aizawa massages the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to fend off the tears welling in his eyes, “I can’t keep her. I’m not...it’s not safe and I can’t be a father permanently. Too much financially, emotionally, mentally, I just...I shouldn’t be sharing this with you. Go on, get some dinner or something.”
Hitoshi watches his mentor fan his eyes and frowns.
“But you’re a good father figure to me. Why can’t you be a good, you know, actual father to some other kid my age?”
“I’m too poor and mentally screwed up to be a permanent dad. No kid’s gonna want to deal with me as a permanent dad.”
“...I’d want to deal with you as a permanent dad,” Shinsou shrugs, “but hey, I’ll talk about that later, I need to go get some dinner...or something.”
He turns back to leave, but glances over his shoulder to wave a goodbye before he returns to the dorms for the night.
He most likely wouldn’t get a chance to talk to his teacher again until Monday, which he takes as a chance to stew in his emotions and feel stupid about what he said. Gah, why did he say that? Why was he open about his emotions? You can’t be open about your emotions, Shinsou!
Kaminari noticed the boy’s anguish through the crack of his dorm room's door, and, feeling somewhat perturbed for his friend, stepped in quietly and sat on the bed beside him.
“What’s up, nerd?”
Shinsou groaned, “I’m alone, nobody care me.”
Denki lays beside his friend and runs a hand comfortingly through his dull lavender hair.
“I care you!” he reassures with a grin.
Hitoshi shakes his head in a gloomy response, running his hands down his face.
“I called Mr. Aizawa ‘Dad’ but it spiraled and now it’s an emotional situation and also my daddy issues are super heightened now.”
“Oh. I mean, yeah, I know how you don’t like being open about your emotions.”
“Yeah but Mr. Aizawa was open about his emotions too! It was weird!”
“What? The plot thickens…”
“No, it’s...I have daddy issues, he has….son issues? I dunno.”
Kaminari squints at Shinsou, confused.
“Wait, then what’s the problem here?”
Hitoshi groans again, “I can’t just like...adopt a father, Denki! That’s stupid garbage!”
The blonde shrugs, “You can choose who you trust authority-wise, and like...how you interact with them and what you call them. Parents aren’t really something you can choose but family in other forms can be, Y’know? I dunno, I’m rambling.”
Shinsou processes what Kaminari said before nodding, seeming to understand.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. He doesn’t have to be blood family for me to appreciate him like family.”
“Now you’ve got it!”
The lavender-haired boy chuckles as his friend presses their forehead to his.
“Am I part of your family, Shin?”
“I think most of everyone here is.”
“D’awww!” Kaminari coos. He bonks heads gently with Shinsou before sitting up, “I gotta go, Bakugo challenged me to a game of Smash and I need to warm up for the Smash Tournament.”
“Wait, you guys are actually doing that?”
“Yeah, you should join us!”
Hitoshi grimaces, “Nah, I suck at games. Have fun getting blown up by Landmine out there.”
“Oh I will!”
They laugh as Denki skips out of the room, leaving Shinsou with a smile on his face and a plan in his back pocket.
Monday evening Shinsou steps into Mr. Aizawa’s office, catching him in the middle of grading a few last tests, smoke spewing from between his teeth as he lifts a cigarette away from his lips.
“Pretty sure this is a no-smoking area.”
Shouta grins at his student, “The window’s open and the door should be closed,” he nods at the door left ajar, which Hitoshi kicks shut, “I light a candle when I’m done anyway, they’ll never know.”
“Slick.”
“Now what do you need, Problem Child? I’m not gonna round your 78 to a 100.”
“What?” the boy lifts a puzzled brow, “Wait, I made a 78? Damnit.”
His mentor shakes his head, “Your overall grade’s fine, don’t worry. Now what do you ask of me?”
The student shoves the door completely closed, listening to the hard click of it sealing completely shut, before he stands in front of the desk, hands planted on the counter as he leans forward, “I like your side-shave.”
“I’m not buying you weed.”
“What? That’s not what I’m here to-students have asked you for that?”
“Sero.”
“Oh yeah, that makes sense.”
“Now what do you want already? Spit it out.”
Shinsou sighs, gesturing vaguely, “I wanna talk about...Y’know.”
Aizawa’s relaxed expression is pulled taut. He clears his throat, setting his pen down and crushing his cigarette in a small portable ashtray.
“Hey, sorry I was personal with you, it was weird-“
“No, I’m not here to complain.”
The teacher tilts his head, locking eyes with Hitoshi, “Kaminari told me some smart stuff about...how you can choose your family even if you can’t choose your parents so like...I don’t see you as a father as much as I see you as someone who treats me like a son and I wanna choose to allow this.”
“...So you’re inviting me to be a part of your chosen family?”
The young kid shrugs with a nervous exhale, “I guess, if that...makes sense.”
“No, no, I did the same thing at your age.”
Shouta chuckles. He holds his grading pen between two fingers, thwacking it gently against the desk in an off-kilter rhythm.
“I didn’t have the best family life at home. My dad wasn’t the...nicest or most lenient person who didn’t see a child as anything more than a moneymaker and legacy-continuer and my mother was a spacey Russian damsel who had been lost in culture shock for the last decade and didn’t know how to relate with her kid who’d already adapted and was ahead of her when it came to trends, current events, etc. when she snapped out of it,”
He explains with a soft voice, a slight chill across his tone,
"Mic, Midnight, Tensei...Shirakumo, even a few teachers, I...I chose them all as my family, so I could have somebody to give the familial love I wish I could give my parents or some hypothetical siblings.”
“...And you’re really fine with me doing the same thing?”
Aizawa smiles, a rare genuine smile that doesn’t make Shinsou shudder in fear. His pen rolls back onto the desk as he tucks a strand of light purple hair behind his student’s ear before ruffling the rest.
“If it helps you the way it helped me, then of course. You’re always welcome to come talk to me about the things you can’t talk to your own family about.”
Shinsou nods, “Thank you, Mr. Aizawa.”
Shouta’s smile stretches at the corners, a warm glow in his eyes. He stands up and reaches across the table to give Hitoshi an adoring hug, which he enthusiastically agrees to, letting a happy tear run down his cheek now that he was finally behind his mentor’s back.
“...Hey, do you want the rest of these oranges, by the way?”
The student laughs, wiping his eyes as they separate, “You trust me with them even after last time?”
“No, I’ll only give them to you if you don’t do that again, you little heathen.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises…”
“Then squeeze your own oranges.”
They chuckle, the sunset shining upon them. Shouta notices the glow of the sun as it goes down and waves Hitoshi away.
“Now go on, eat dinner and get some rest. Also, don’t tell anyone I told you your test score before we went over it in class.”
“Yeah okay, I can promise that.”
“You better!”
As the giggles between the two die down, the older man gives his apprentice a warm grin and warmer pat on the shoulder.
“Thank you for being open with me. I know it’s hard, especially at your age.”
“I just knew I couldn’t get myself out of all of this without being honest.”
“And I’m proud of that, now shoo, Citrus Beast.”
The boy rolls his eyes, mumbling something about that title being a badass nickname as he glances out the window and watches the sun roll down behind a curtain of clouds. He turns around with a subtle sigh and begins for the door, his hand on the knob when he turns back to give Aizawa a sweet, toothy grin.
“See you tomorrow, Pseudo-Dad.”
“Have a good night, Son.”