Resurrection | Shota Aizawa

Chapter 13

Third person pov

Shoto kept an eye out for his uncle the next day, feeling happier than he had in some time now. The closer his relative's class got, the more elated he seemed to feel. It was a nice feeling to know there was someone outside of everything that cared. Fuyumi and Natsuo did. He knew they did, but they were trapped in the chaotic swarm of wrath their father had created as well. The three of them were caught in the eye of his storm. Only just now was Natsuo making it out. He was going to college and living in a dorm, only coming home every so often. Fuyumi was staying for Shoto, which he was thankful for, but he wished she'd escape while she had the chance.

But now his uncle had quite literally crawled out of a random hole in the ground and seemed determined to help. Even if Hiroki couldn't do anything, that didn't mean the thought didn't count. A lot of people claimed that actions spoke louder than words. In some cases, they did. This was just different somehow. Hiroki's care and reassurance felt like enough. Maybe Shoto was just affection-deprived or something of that sort. Such a fact being true wouldn't much surprise him.

Mr. Aizawa seemed a little happier today as well, and people noticed. It wasn't that he was smiling or anything. No one in all of Class 1-A could bring themselves to imagine what he'd look like with a genuine grin. It was more that he seemed less tense. Sure, he was still tired and reasonably gruff, but he wasn't irritated as quickly it seemed. Rather than glaring at Kaminari and snapping at him to shut up and pay attention, he simply told him to save it for the end of class. Both were relatively rude statements, but it was the tone that was different. It was obvious to everyone who'd been around the man that he was in a good mood, by Aizawa's standards.

Hiroki always stood outside his door and greeted his students when they came in. A lot of times, it wasn't students moving from room to room, but teachers instead. Hiroki had requested his to be a bit different. He didn't like the idea of kids sitting in the same room all day, not able to stretch their legs or anything of that sort. It was far too monotonous. Nezu accommodated this idea for the man, allowing him his own space. Hiroki's classroom was a burst of warm, homey color. It felt less like a classroom and more like... Shoto wasn't sure, but it wasn't as uptight and uniform as the other rooms.

"Good morning, Kaminari! Kirishima!" Hiroki chirped as the two boys stepped into class, each happily blabbering out their own greetings to him as they went. Hiroki seemed to brighten with each face he saw. Shoto had never seen someone as happy as his uncle was before. It was... admirable, in a sense. The two-toned teen realized that maybe he was looking up to his relative. It was a nice feeling to have someone worthy of putting on a pedestal for once. 

The two-toned teen felt a bit nervous as he got closer and closer, but he wasn't sure why. This was Hiroki Akisuka! His uncle! He was aware of Shoto's situation and cared. He was willing to help. Did he feel so hesitant because this was the first time someone had really shown any warmth towards him and what he was going through? He hadn't had the guts to tell Natuso and Fuyumi he was back before. He almost regretted it now, as he got closer. He just wasn't sure why. That being said, he wasn't sure of a lot of things these days.

"Shoto!" This whole time, Hiroki's face had been lighting up like a candle lit every time he spotted a student. But that was nothing compared to the expression that overtook him when he saw his nephew. Shoto felt his own lips pull into a small smile, and the pressure on his chest alleviate. There was nothing to worry about. His uncle was happy to see him. It was so clear, he wasn't sure how he could've been so reluctant just moments before. Was this what it felt like to be openly loved? It was new, but Shoto had no complaints.

"Uncle Hiroki..." Shoto trailed off, unsure if he should still be calling him sensei or not. To think he hadn't recognized his own Uncle. To be fair, it had been ten years, and the memories he had of him were distorted. He couldn't recall much. Just the warm feeling of love and the comfort of his hugs every time he'd come to visit. The vague outline of the same smile he was seeing now. It was all very fuzzy, buried beneath painful days full of too much training and hurt.