~Trade Mistakes~ (EraserMic)

Nephew

"Uncle Shota!"

Aizawa jumped slightly, looking up from the file he was reading and whirling around in surprise as a tall, purple haired boy dressed in a grey and green U.A. uniform jogged over with a large black backpack and a duffle bag slung over his shoulders, a rarely seen smile stretched across his pale and tired looking features, one hand raised in a wave. The exhausted hero turned, grunting in surprise as the boy crashed into his black fabric encased chest with a grin, pulling the man into a tight hug with a smile that Aizawa was happy to return with one of his own, chuckling quietly in amusement as he ruffled the fluffy mop of light purple hair affectionately, a small, content grin growing slow across his worn features.

"Eheh. Why can't you be this enthusiastic in my class?" He asked quietly with a hint of amusement in his usually smooth and monotone voice, watching as the boy straightened with a roll his bright indigo-blue eyes, pulling away from the exhausted hero with a small smile still on his face.

"Cause your class is boring, Old Man." Hitoshi Shinso stated blandly, his hands in his pockets and a bored look on his face as Aizawa glared angrily, smacking his fluffy haired nephew on the head with a growl.

"I'm not old, you little brat."

"Hey, you'll mess up my hair!" Hitoshi retorted, swatting the hand away with a cross look as he stuck his tongue out at his aggravated uncle, socking Aizawa playfully in the arm with a smirk, it shrinking a little as Aizawa narrowed his eyes dangerously, their bloodshot black pupils flaring up to a bright, glowing red, his long black hair floating up off his shoulders. The fluffy haired boy gulped, chuckling weakly under the intimidating red gaze, fidgeting a little.

The sudden and slightly surprising shift in his usually scruffy looking uncle's appearance was an intimidating side effect of the exhausted teacher's powerful quirk, an ability known simply as Erasure. Aizawa had built his entire career on his startling ability to erase the powers of anyone he chose, leaving his usually criminal victims quirkless until he closed his eyes again. This, along with his skilled knowledge of hand to hand combat and the sleek, grey-white fabric wound tightly around his shoulders, made Aizawa one of Japan's most notorious heroes in the villainous underworld of Tokyo, the midnight hero's escapades and watchful eye causing many a criminal more than a few problems.

Despite this, to the upper class world, Aizawa didn't exist. Most people didn't know who he was or what he did for them, and if they did recognize him they were all to scared to go anywhere near him, instead choosing to whisper criticism behind their hands about his scruffy appearance and antisocial personality, not even caring to keep their voices low as he passed by with his shoulders hunched and his eyes focused on the ground, pretending not to hear them.

This was why Aizawa preferred to be alone.

The now intimidating hero glared down at his fluffy haired nephew with grit teeth, his long black hair swirling around his head as he lunged, trapping the thin teenager in a headlock before grinding his rough knuckles into the kid's scalp, hard enough to ensure the administration was a bit uncomfortable, but keeping his strength reeled in so he didn't actually hurt Hitoshi, who yowled, kicking his feet against the tile and clawing at his  uncle's arms in an attempt to get away.

"Let me go, you old bat!"

"Who you calling old bat, punk?!" Aizawa growled in response, tightening the grip as Hitoshi struggled in vain against his grip, his face turning red.

"A-alright! I give up uncle Shota! Let me go!!" The boy yowled, kicking his feet against the ground with a cross look as Aizawa released him with a laugh, closing his eyes and letting his hair fall as he clapped a hand on Hitoshi's shoulder, chuckling as he scooped up the purple haired boy's duffle bag.