bnha oneshots!!

72 - when the stone breaks 🥂

ship: PLATONIC FOUND FAMILY 'FRIENDSHIP' - shōta aizawa + eijiro kirishima.

It started as a normal day at U.A. High, but by midday, the bustling energy of Class 1-A had been interrupted by a concerning development. Eijiro Kirishima, usually the embodiment of resilience and spirit, had been unusually quiet, his vibrant energy subdued. By lunchtime, it became clear that something was seriously wrong.

Kirishima sat slumped over his desk, his face pale and flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. When his classmates urged him to go to Recovery Girl, he waved them off with a weak smile, insisting that he was fine. But Aizawa wasn't so easily convinced. As the day wore on, Kirishima's condition worsened, and Aizawa made the decision to send him to the infirmary.

After a brief examination, Recovery Girl informed Aizawa that Kirishima had a high fever and symptoms of a severe flu. He needed rest, fluids, and most importantly, someone to care for him while he recovered. Recovery Girl had mentioned contacting Kirishima's parents to inform them of the situation, assuming they'd come to check on their son. But hours passed, and no one arrived.

Later that evening, as the dorms grew quiet and the students settled in for the night, Aizawa sat in his office, reviewing the day's events. His thoughts kept drifting back to Kirishima, the boy who was usually so strong, now reduced to a sickly shadow of himself. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that no one had come for Kirishima, especially after he had personally called Kirishima's parents.

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. Kirishima didn't have the kind of family who would come running when he needed them. It was a reality that Aizawa was all too familiar with from his own experiences growing up. But that didn't mean Kirishima had to be alone now.

Determined, Aizawa got up from his desk and headed to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients for soup—something simple but nourishing, the kind of comfort food that was needed when someone was ill. As he worked, his thoughts were focused on the task at hand, not on the unusualness of the situation. He was a teacher, and his duty went beyond just academics. His students' well-being was paramount, and if Kirishima needed someone to look after him, then Aizawa would do it without hesitation.

Once the soup was ready, Aizawa carefully poured it into a thermos to keep it warm and made his way to the dorms. The building was quiet, the other students already asleep, and Aizawa moved silently through the hallways until he reached Kirishima's room. He knocked softly, but there was no response. Frowning, Aizawa opened the door just enough to peer inside.

Kirishima was lying in bed, his breathing heavy and uneven. His face was flushed, his red hair damp with sweat. The sight tugged at something deep in Aizawa's chest—a protective instinct that he rarely acknowledged but couldn't ignore. Without a word, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Kirishima stirred at the sound, his eyes fluttering open. When he saw Aizawa standing by his bedside, holding a thermos, he blinked in confusion.

"Sensei...?" Kirishima's voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

Aizawa pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down, placing the thermos on the small table next to him. "Recovery Girl told me that you weren't feeling good and so I brought you some soup."

Kirishima stared at him for a moment, as if trying to process what was happening. "You... you made me soup?"

Aizawa nodded, his expression calm but gentle. "You need to eat something. It'll help you get your strength back."

Kirishima's eyes filled with an emotion Aizawa couldn't quite place—gratitude, maybe, or perhaps something deeper, something that came from the simple act of being cared for when you weren't expecting it. Slowly, Kirishima sat up, though it was clear the effort took a lot out of him. Aizawa handed him the thermos and a spoon, watching as Kirishima took a tentative sip.

The warmth of the soup seemed to soothe him, and Kirishima sighed softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Sensei. You didn't have to do this."

Aizawa leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "You're my student. It's my job to make sure you're okay."

Kirishima took another sip of the soup, his movements slow and deliberate. "My parents... did they say anything?"

Aizawa's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even. "They're busy. But that doesn't mean you have to go through this alone."

Kirishima looked down at the thermos in his hands, his expression unreadable. "I guess I'm just not used to... someone taking care of me like this."

Aizawa's heart clenched at the quiet admission. He could see the loneliness in Kirishima's eyes, the unspoken hurt that came from being let down by the people who were supposed to be there for you. It was a pain Aizawa understood all too well, and he knew how much it could weigh on someone, especially someone as kind-hearted and strong as Kirishima.

"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Aizawa said, his voice firm but soft. "But you should know that you're not alone here. You've got people who care about you—your friends, your teachers. We're all here for you, whether you're at your best or your worst."

Kirishima looked up at Aizawa, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You really mean that?"

Aizawa nodded, his gaze never wavering. "I do. And if you ever need anything, you come to me. Understand?"

Kirishima's smile grew, a little stronger this time, as if Aizawa's words had lifted a weight from his shoulders. "Yeah. I understand. Thanks, Sensei. It really means a lot."

Aizawa allowed a small smile of his own, a rare sight that made Kirishima's heart warm. "Get some rest, Kirishima. I'll check on you in the morning."

Kirishima nodded, lying back down as he settled under the covers, the warmth of the soup spreading through him in more ways than one. Aizawa stood, watching him for a moment longer, making sure he was comfortable before turning to leave.

But before he could reach the door, Kirishima's voice called out to him, soft but clear. "Sensei?"

Aizawa paused, glancing back. "Yes?"

Kirishima's eyes were already half-closed, sleep pulling him under, but there was a contentment in his expression that hadn't been there before. "Thanks for being here."

Aizawa felt a warmth spread through his chest, a sense of fulfilment that he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. "Anytime, Kirishima. Anytime."

As he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Aizawa couldn't help but feel a deep sense of responsibility for the young man lying in that bed. Kirishima was strong—stronger than most. But even the strongest needed someone to lean on sometimes. And Aizawa was more than willing to be that person.

Because in the end, family wasn't just about blood. It was about the people who stood by you, who cared for you when you needed it most. And whether Kirishima knew it or not, he had found a family at U.A. High — a family that Aizawa was proud to be a part of.

And no matter what, Aizawa would make sure Kirishima knew that he was never truly alone.