Teachers pet (COMPLETE)

Chapter 56: The School Festival

Mailin’s POV

The days leading up to the U.A. School Festival are a blur of rehearsals, planning, and late nights spent practicing for our class performance. Mina’s been putting us through dance drills, and though I’ve managed to pick up most of the moves, my mind hasn’t been fully in it. Every time I manage to nail a step, I glance over at Aizawa-Sensei. He’s been keeping a close eye on Eri throughout the preparations, and seeing him in the corner of my vision sends my heart racing.

“Mailin, focus!” Mina snaps, clapping her hands to pull me back into the moment.

I blink, shaking my head. “Sorry, Mina. I’m just… distracted.”

She gives me a knowing smile. “Aizawa-Sensei’s here, huh?”

I feel my face heat up, and I quickly turn away, trying to ignore the way her words make my chest tighten. “It’s not that…”

But it is. Ever since the raid and seeing him in that hospital bed, bruised and exhausted, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. The way he looked at me—so calm, like everything was fine—when I knew how close he’d come to serious danger. It terrifies me, but it also pulls me toward him in ways I can’t fully explain.

I shake it off and try to refocus. I’ve been avoiding those thoughts for the past few days, especially now that Eri has become a part of our lives. Aizawa-Sensei’s focus is on her, making sure she’s adjusting to her new life at U.A., and I don’t want to add more to his plate by getting too wrapped up in my own feelings.

We finish our practice for the day, and I head over to where Aizawa and Eri are sitting. Eri looks a little more at ease, though her small hands clutch onto Aizawa’s sleeve like a lifeline.

“How’s it going?” I ask as I kneel down beside them. Eri glances up at me, her big eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“It’s a lot of work,” Aizawa says, his voice low but steady. “But she’s handling it well.”

I smile softly at Eri. “You’re going to have so much fun at the festival. Everyone’s really excited to meet you.”

Eri’s gaze shifts from me to Aizawa. He gives her a slight nod, and she loosens her grip on his sleeve just a little. It’s a small step, but it makes my heart swell.

“You’ll love the music,” I add, trying to keep things light. “It’s going to be loud and fun, and we’ll even have candied apples!”

Her eyes brighten slightly at the mention of the sweet treat, and I feel a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders.

As the day winds down, Aizawa pulls me aside as the students start packing up. “You’re handling this well, Mailin.”

I look up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Eri,” he says, his gaze softening in a way that sends a jolt through my chest. “You’ve been a big help with her. She’s comfortable with you.”

I swallow, trying to ignore the warmth his words stir inside me. “I’m just trying to make things easier for her… and for you.”

For a moment, Aizawa doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, and I can feel the tension simmering between us—the unspoken words, the things neither of us has dared to address. But before I can let myself fall too far into that tension, Eri calls out for him, breaking the moment.

“We should head back,” he says quietly, nodding toward Eri.

I nod too, watching as he walks over to her. The connection between us lingers, but it fades as quickly as it came, leaving me with a swirl of emotions I’m not ready to face yet.

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Aizawa’s POV

The School Festival is bustling with life, the air filled with excitement and chatter. From where I stand in the audience, my eyes drift between the stage and Mailin. She’s with her classmates, finalizing the last details for their concert, and I can see the focus in her eyes. But I know she’s still thinking about everything that’s happened recently—the raid, Eri, even me.

I’ve been watching her more closely lately, though I’m not sure when it started. Maybe it was when I told her about the raid, knowing I couldn’t keep it a secret from her. Or maybe it was when she showed up at the hospital, her worry written all over her face despite how hard she tried to hide it. She cares—more than she lets on.

But that’s part of the problem. I see the way she looks at me when she thinks I don’t notice. There’s something between us, something neither of us has acknowledged out loud, and it’s growing. I can’t deny it any longer, but I also can’t let it consume us—not with everything that’s going on.

As the lights dim and the performance begins, I try to push those thoughts aside. The music starts, a heavy beat filling the air as Mina leads the group in their dance. The kids are good, I’ll give them that. But my attention keeps drifting back to Mailin, watching the way she moves with the rhythm, how her focus sharpens when the crowd cheers.

Beside me, Eri’s eyes are wide, taking in the lights and the music. She’s mesmerized, and for the first time since the raid, I see a small smile tug at her lips. It’s a good sight—a reminder that there’s still hope for her to find some happiness again. And Mailin… she’s helping with that.

When Mailin steps forward for her part, there’s something about her presence on stage that captures my attention. It’s not just her talent, though that’s undeniable. It’s the confidence she exudes—the way she’s grown into herself since she joined U.A. She’s different from the girl who first walked into my class, nervous and unsure. She’s stronger now, more self-assured, and that change hasn’t gone unnoticed.

The music builds to its climax, and I glance down at Eri. She’s leaning forward in her seat, completely captivated by the performance. I lean back, allowing myself a rare moment of peace. For now, everything is okay. Eri is safe, and Mailin… she’s right where she belongs.

As the performance ends and the crowd erupts into applause, I catch Mailin’s eye from the stage. There’s a moment—just a flicker of recognition—before she’s pulled back into the excitement of her classmates. But in that brief exchange, I can feel it—the same tension that’s been lingering between us for weeks now.

It’s there, waiting. But for now, I’ll let it stay unspoken.