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༺𓆩✮𓆪༻
The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the nearby apartment parking lot. Shouta Aizawa sighed. The day had been gruelling to say the least, filled with intense training sessions and what seemed like the never ending paperwork that came with being a teacher at the most prestigious school in Tokyo.
He leaned his head back against his arm rest couch, the soft fabric clashing against his unshaven stubble. The more he sunk into the fabric the easier he found his eyes to draw shut. His eyes were heavy and could barely support him remaining conscious any longer however rest wasn't an option—not when there was still work to be done.
He had a duty as an underground pro hero and no matter how much he was regretting ever even considering this job path, he had to persevere. With a weary sigh aizawa straightened up, slinging his capture weapon over his shoulders, and headed out into the night.
He descended the stairs of his apartment complex and reached the connecting street a woman bumped into him accidentally, causing them both to stumble. The woman holds the top of her head as she looks up at aizawa, aizawa also meeting her gaze. The woman's eyes widen and a look of concern and guilt flashed across her face, just before he could apologise the woman reached into her bag and then held out a small wad of crumpled bills to aizawa.
"Here" she said softly, pressing the money into his hand. "It's not much, but I hope it helps."
Aizawa stared back at her in shock. His eyes flickered at the cash in her hands and then her concerned gaze clearly perplexed. "Uh, I think there's been a mistake," he said, his voice low and gruff as usual. "I'm not-"
She interrupted him before he could continue, smiling and pushing the money forcibly into his hands. "Oh don't be embarrassed sir, times are tough for everyone. You don't have to explain. Just take it."
Aizawa frowned, trying to piece together what she meant. Then it finally hit him. His gaze flickered down at his attire—baggy clothes, scruffy hair, untamed beard, and a perpetually tired expression—and so it hit him. She thought he was homeless. She really thought... he was homeless.
"Look," he said firmly, trying his hardest to hand the money back to her, "I'm not homeless, I have a job! I work at U.A and have a teaching position there, I appreciate the sentiment but I'm okay, seriously."
She crossed her arms as she looked from the bottom up of his appearance unconvinced. She coughs slightly uncomfortable and gently pushes his hand away. "Mr, there's no need to make up stories, really! Im sure you'll find a job soon. Just take the money and buy something warm for yourself to eat, please."
Aizawa frustration only grew as the woman continued to insist not allowing him to reject her 'good will'. The conversation continued back and forth until a loud but familiar voice cut through the conversation interrupting them.
