Era

11

It was not an uncommon occurrence to see Aizawa Shouta slinking off towards the staffroom, obnoxious yellow sleeping bag thrown over one shoulder. It was a little unusual, however, for him to start up the practice so early in the semester.

These kids were going to be the death of him. Already he could see the trouble spots arising, petty rivalries and mishandled quirks and personalities in serious need of adjustment. Not to mention all the standard emotional minefields that came part and parcel with a class of incoming high school first years.

He'd already had to expel one student, so that meant money would be changing hands somewhere among the other staff members. They never seemed to understand, treating it like a mean-spirited game of "who will Shouta mercilessly crush next"; it wasn't as if he wanted to grind the dreams of starry-eyed fourteen-year-olds into dust, but if not him, then who? All Might? That man couldn't say no to an autograph, nonetheless a child's aspirations.

Besides, that kid wasn't cut out to be a hero. Luckily enough there was someone in 1-C that seemed more deserving of the role, who scored reasonably high on the entrance exams even with a quirk that left him at such a severe disadvantage. Those fucking tests...

He'd have to prove himself, but Shinsou Hitoshi seemed like a capable kid. Shouta was reasonably sure that he could pull some strings, get the kid provisional placement in 1-A heroics lessons so he'd be able to keep up with the rest of the class until the Sports Festival. It'd be rough; Shinsou would still need to attend 1-C academic classes and make up any missed work while he attended Foundational Heroics and other track-specific courses, but even when Shouta had laid out the difficulties the kid hadn't seem phased.

Still, a five minute conversation didn't reveal everything about a person. Which was why Shouta was a little less annoyed than usual when Hizashi screeched his name the moment he entered the teacher's lounge.

"Shouta!!! I heard you're planning to poach my kids!"

"What have I told you about quirks in the teacher's lounge," Shouta muttered, eyes flashing red and wrestling Hizashi's voice to a more appropriate volume.

"Sorry," said Hizashi breezily, and for some reason that Shouta couldn't quite put his finger on, he strongly suspected that Hizashi was not actually sorry. "But the point still stands!"

Shouta sighed and shuffled over to the corner of the room, propping his sleeping bag against the wall. "What can you tell me about Shinsou Hitoshi?"

"Uh, he's a smart kid, I guess. Why, that the one you're planning to steal?"

Shouta just hummed noncommittally, and Hizashi shook a threatening finger.

"Should've known you'd go for that one. He's runner-up on the charts for this year's most sleep-deprived looking listener."

Shouta snorted. "Runner-up? That kid's eyebags had eyebags. Who's first place?"

"Like I'd tell you!" Hizashi crossed his arms and looked askance. "What, and give you another student to steal?"

"Shinsou isn't moving up to 1-A yet. Not officially anyway." Shouta suppressed a yawn and walked over to his desk to sift through a stack of paper that was already becoming unwieldy. God, sometimes he really did hate this job. "I'm just thinking of pulling him out of 1-C for Foundational Heroics, and maybe homeroom."

"So you would specifically rob me?" Hizashi placed a hand to his chest.

"Stop with the dramatics already. He's too good for you anyway."

"Burn." Nemuri didn't look up from where she was lounging at her desk, reading a tattered paperback. Shouta hadn't even noticed her sitting there.

"Who's side are you on? I have been attacked, I have been insulted, all by my favorite listeners—"