Aizawa's Birthday Crack-Fic
Dec. 6th, 2018 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkeyesprimeAizawa’s Birthday Crack-fic
[Written on NOVEMBER 8, 2018]
Originally posted at TLDWC
Happy Birthday Aizawa Shouta
---
Aizawa Shouta is not a man prone to looking back at his mistakes. He acknowledges his mistakes, sears it into his memory, plans how not to make the same mistakes, and moves on. That is the truth of it. If he were the morose sort, the sort of man to brood over his mistakes constantly, he’d be either dead, or he’d stop functioning altogether. He has too much to do, too many children relying on him to spend his time brooding.
He is thirteen when he comes home from school to find the cheap apartment they’d moved into once she turned sixteen empty. There is food in the fridge, meals pre-packaged and frozen. The bills and rent have been paid. There is an envelope of cash on his pillow. But she is not there-she is gonegonegone like mother and father before her-but then she comes home, there are bags under her eyes and new bruises on her body, and she says, “Let’s go have hot pot for dinner, Shouta!” and where did she find the money for this ridiculous luxury?
There is a chip on his shoulder, the hint of a female voice, young and scared and trying not to show it; the faint memory of a body budding into womanhood draped over his back and quick, shallow breaths tinged with pain as she takes the beating meant for him. He can almost hear her when he dozes, wrapped up warm in his sleeping bag surrounded by his students, he thinks he can feel her arms around him, she laughs, her voice vanishing into the sound of his students as they chatter. The memory of another time spreads over his tongue, the chemical tang of preservatives and sugary, pre-packaged jelly snacks and fruit boxes snuck into his backpack. Portions of their meager meals that made their way into his school bag in the mornings so he could eat while she went without… Of money they could ill afford to spend recklessly, carefully hoarded and hidden from their parents, appearing in his pocket, wrapped around his student ID on days when his class went out on school trips. He tries not to think about it, of coming back from the week long summer trip to Kyoto with his class, his belly full of good food to see her, gaunt faced with new scars on her back, smiling like nothing was wrong.
He has students to teach and protect. He has good friends, too loud, too vibrant, who can see right through him-Not really because they have no inkling of the shadow that watches him over his shoulder from the dark parts of his mind from back in the time when he was always hungry and afraid and resentful too(ungrateful-tooquicktojudge-alwayshungryafraidcoldweakweakweak) You can be strong too, Shouta…. Don’t take their words to heart… And they don’t know…
Tenth Flame pulling him aside, Nedzu-sensei offering him tea, Orchid Mantis watching him silently, the representative from the Union of Underground Heroes handing him ten sturdy grey leather pouches stitched onto a black belt…
“She interned with us starting around age thirteen,” Orchid Mantis said, “and we let her take the exam for her Hero License at sixteen.”
Sixteen. The year they moved out of their father’s house with funds he had not known they’d had. Funds he hadn’t questioned but had been suspicious of.
“Her pension will be paid out to you, Your schooling will be covered by the union… it’s the least we can do in her memory…”
The Burning Hero: Mana. It’s the only secret he’s ever kept from the people who were his closest friends, the one person he couldn’t protect, whom he’d failed from day one. His hero, his protector, his only true family his sis-
There was no funeral. There had been no body recovered. Her name erased from all records, existing only in his memory, the memory of a voice, of a young woman grown up too young who went without and shielded him with her own body…
“Aizawa-sensei?”
Shouta opens his eyes to see Midoriya standing in front of him. The boy fidgets and said quietly, “Um… Did you used to have a sister, sensei?”
“What makes you ask?”
“Oh… Um…” Midoriya rummages in his bag, and pulls out a few photos. “My mom got an invitation to a party, and it turned out to be a reunion. Um… Turns out mom used to be a hero, and she had these…”
Shouta unzips his bag just enough to be able to reach out and take the photos. They’re old, the colors slightly yellowed and less crisp than the modern high definition pictures. But he recognizes the smile. The fall of that hair, the slope of that nose and the curve of those cheeks. If he strains, he can just barely remember her voice calling him.
“Shiori…” the name slips out without his permission. The boy shifts nervously. He sits up. “Your mother was the Orchid Mantis?”
Midoriya nods. Shouta glanced at the clock. The school day was over, and the majority of students had left for the dorms already. He sighs.
“My older sister died when I was your age,” Shouta said, finally giving voice to a secret he’d kept even from his own friends. “There was no body recovered, and the case she was working on was delicate enough that almost everyone involved were either erased from existence or given new identities. You won’t find her in any records.”
“Oh.” Midoriya shuffled. “Sorry to bring up bad memories, sensei.”
“It was a long time ago, kid. Don’t worry about it.” Shouta hesitated, “Would your mother mind if I kept these?”
Midoriya nodded. “Mom said you might want them.”
“Thanks.” Shouta tucked them carefully into a pocket. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with All Might today?”
Midoriya yelped in shock, “I’m late! Bye, sensei!”
The door slammed behind him and Shouta shook his head as he snuggled back into his sleeping bag. Kids.
—
Shouta isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but the summons from the Hero Agency that picked up Midoriya’s internship after Nighteye’s death was not it. Wondering what the hell the Problem Child’s done now, he travels down to the northern end of the city where one of the bigger Hero Agencies in the world was situated.
Yuuei’s care carried him up the drive to the door, and Shouta sighed at the ridiculous size of the place. Technically not Villains was a large building with five stories and a sprawling rooftop garden. Shouta would bet a years salary that there was more building underground. TNV never did anything by halves, and the entire office itself was a sprawling estate. Shouta dreaded to consider why they needed all that space, but considering the nature of some of their quirks, he imagined the extra space was meant to be a safety buffer. He left the car and entered the lobby and walked toward the small office situated right in front of the doors. Well, he said it was right in front of the doors, but the lobby from front door to rear wall was the rough length of an american football field. Yeah, they were that ridiculous. He strode past a few chairs that were occupied by people, visitors and employees alike, ignoring the flash of eye searing yellow and green that wiggled by him, inchworming across the floor instead of walking like a sane person.
“Welcome to Technically not Villains Hero Agency,” said the blonde haired, green eyed woman sitting behind protective bulletproof glass. Her blue rain poncho shifted as she lifted a cup of tea to her lips, revealing a mint green mini-dress underneath. “How may I help you today?”
“I’m here regarding Midoriya Izuku,” Shouta said dryly, slapping his hero license onto the glass, “I have an appointment.”
The woman squinted at the license, tapped a few keys and squinted at the computer screen. “Yep. Phoenix’s Office. Fourth floor, take a left straight out of the stairs, left, right, first door on your left.”
Shouta slid his license back into his pocket and strode toward one of the inner doors. He had just reached the second floor when a short girl burst dressed in black burst into the stairwell, following a man? Woman? With light brown eyes and hair and tan skin.
“I’m telling you, Willow!” the girl was shouting, “Grimm really did braid my hair before she moonwalked out of the room!”
Will o’Wisp raised an eyebrow, “Right. You really should get some rest, kid. Seriously.”
“I’m not lying and I’m not overworked!!!”
Shouta shook his head as he climbed up another flight of stairs. He encountered a woman with scaled earfins coming down the stairs, and she nodded genially at him before continuing down, her black, orange and blue hair gleaming in the pale light of the stairwell. She paused as if realizing who she had walked past.
“Hey, Eraserhead!”
Shouta turned and looked at the woman, placing her face after a few seconds.
“Your kids are a mess. The hell has Yuuei been teaching them?”
“Not enough apparently,” Shouta grumbled as he turned and continued up the stairs.
Distantly, he heard the black clad girl’s voice drifting up, “Grimm did it!”
“Honestly, Swallowtail,” he heard Aenon say, “Grimm can barely take care of herself. I do her hair most days.”
The vent rattled and Shouta nearly punched the green clad child that tumbled out in his surprise. “Midoriya, what?”
“Sorry, sensei!” Midoriya laughed, “It’s a thing to take the vents when you want to get around. Elevators are dangerous outside of an emergency and the vents are faster than taking the stairs.” Something beeped from his belt. “Gah! I’m so late! See you later, sensei!” He lunged to another vent across the stairs and scrambled inside.
Shouta blinked at the empty vent from which he did not hear any frantic scrambling or banging. Huh. Kid learned stealth. Go figure. He continued to climb the stairs.
Finally, he reached the fourth floor, and there he encountered a… mirror? The other him laughed and a tentacle slithered out from under his shirt to scratch his cheek. Shouta blinked, feeling a headache coming on. What. The. Hell?
“Hi,” the tentacled him said.
The nearest door slammed open and a dark haired woman poked her head out. Shouta felt lightheaded. He knew that face. He knew that voice. But it was impossible. “Yo, Quint! Where’s my owie-bone-breaky-juice-drinking intern?”
“Hmm?” the tentacled man turned and his face brightened, “Hey, Manya! Kid’s scrambling here through the vents like his life depends on it.”
The woman-Manya? What kind of name was Manya?-strode to the nearest vent and shouted into it, “BRAT! GET YOUR ASS UP HERE! YOUR TEACHER’S HERE!!!”
There was a distant clang, and a shout, “Coming! Oww!” The woman stepped back and Midoriya tumbled out of the vent. “There are snakes in the vent, Mana-san!”
A short and chubby brown haired woman with brown eyes swanned out of another door with a pudding cup and paused. “Oh hey, Quint, Mana, kid. Uh, did the two of you time travel and are now being tracked down by your kid?”
Mana twitched. “No Shidake. That’s Eraserhead.”
“Eraserhead’s you kid?!”
“NO!!!” Quint and Mana shouted.
“He’s a mirror image of you both!”
“Nope.” Quint vanished into the vent.
“Shidake.”
“Yeah?”
“Run!” Midoriya shouted.
“Ten seconds to run.”
Shidake bolted.
“Ten!” Mana yelled, flinging a fireball after her.
Shidake vanished down the hall. “YOU SAID I HAD TEN SECONDS!!!”
Mana turned to look at the giggling green bean. “Get inside kiddo,” she sighed.
“Um, nope.” Midoriya leapt to his feet, “Sensei, please meet Phoenix, the Burning Heart Heroine, formerly Pyrobody Mana, Mana-san, please meet Eraserhead, your younger brother. Happy Birthday, Aizawa-sensei!” He fled.
“Get back here and explain yourself, brat!”
“Midoriya, what the hell?”
—
And they lived chaotically ever after. Lol kidding.
Shouta reconciled with his sister but swore he would never come within twenty feet of the TNV Offices unless his life depended on it for the sake of his sanity.
–Finite–
[Written on NOVEMBER 8, 2018]
Originally posted at TLDWC
Happy Birthday Aizawa Shouta
---
Aizawa Shouta is not a man prone to looking back at his mistakes. He acknowledges his mistakes, sears it into his memory, plans how not to make the same mistakes, and moves on. That is the truth of it. If he were the morose sort, the sort of man to brood over his mistakes constantly, he’d be either dead, or he’d stop functioning altogether. He has too much to do, too many children relying on him to spend his time brooding.
He is thirteen when he comes home from school to find the cheap apartment they’d moved into once she turned sixteen empty. There is food in the fridge, meals pre-packaged and frozen. The bills and rent have been paid. There is an envelope of cash on his pillow. But she is not there-she is gonegonegone like mother and father before her-but then she comes home, there are bags under her eyes and new bruises on her body, and she says, “Let’s go have hot pot for dinner, Shouta!” and where did she find the money for this ridiculous luxury?
There is a chip on his shoulder, the hint of a female voice, young and scared and trying not to show it; the faint memory of a body budding into womanhood draped over his back and quick, shallow breaths tinged with pain as she takes the beating meant for him. He can almost hear her when he dozes, wrapped up warm in his sleeping bag surrounded by his students, he thinks he can feel her arms around him, she laughs, her voice vanishing into the sound of his students as they chatter. The memory of another time spreads over his tongue, the chemical tang of preservatives and sugary, pre-packaged jelly snacks and fruit boxes snuck into his backpack. Portions of their meager meals that made their way into his school bag in the mornings so he could eat while she went without… Of money they could ill afford to spend recklessly, carefully hoarded and hidden from their parents, appearing in his pocket, wrapped around his student ID on days when his class went out on school trips. He tries not to think about it, of coming back from the week long summer trip to Kyoto with his class, his belly full of good food to see her, gaunt faced with new scars on her back, smiling like nothing was wrong.
He has students to teach and protect. He has good friends, too loud, too vibrant, who can see right through him-Not really because they have no inkling of the shadow that watches him over his shoulder from the dark parts of his mind from back in the time when he was always hungry and afraid and resentful too(ungrateful-tooquicktojudge-alwayshungryafraidcoldweakweakweak) You can be strong too, Shouta…. Don’t take their words to heart… And they don’t know…
Tenth Flame pulling him aside, Nedzu-sensei offering him tea, Orchid Mantis watching him silently, the representative from the Union of Underground Heroes handing him ten sturdy grey leather pouches stitched onto a black belt…
“She interned with us starting around age thirteen,” Orchid Mantis said, “and we let her take the exam for her Hero License at sixteen.”
Sixteen. The year they moved out of their father’s house with funds he had not known they’d had. Funds he hadn’t questioned but had been suspicious of.
“Her pension will be paid out to you, Your schooling will be covered by the union… it’s the least we can do in her memory…”
The Burning Hero: Mana. It’s the only secret he’s ever kept from the people who were his closest friends, the one person he couldn’t protect, whom he’d failed from day one. His hero, his protector, his only true family his sis-
There was no funeral. There had been no body recovered. Her name erased from all records, existing only in his memory, the memory of a voice, of a young woman grown up too young who went without and shielded him with her own body…
“Aizawa-sensei?”
Shouta opens his eyes to see Midoriya standing in front of him. The boy fidgets and said quietly, “Um… Did you used to have a sister, sensei?”
“What makes you ask?”
“Oh… Um…” Midoriya rummages in his bag, and pulls out a few photos. “My mom got an invitation to a party, and it turned out to be a reunion. Um… Turns out mom used to be a hero, and she had these…”
Shouta unzips his bag just enough to be able to reach out and take the photos. They’re old, the colors slightly yellowed and less crisp than the modern high definition pictures. But he recognizes the smile. The fall of that hair, the slope of that nose and the curve of those cheeks. If he strains, he can just barely remember her voice calling him.
“Shiori…” the name slips out without his permission. The boy shifts nervously. He sits up. “Your mother was the Orchid Mantis?”
Midoriya nods. Shouta glanced at the clock. The school day was over, and the majority of students had left for the dorms already. He sighs.
“My older sister died when I was your age,” Shouta said, finally giving voice to a secret he’d kept even from his own friends. “There was no body recovered, and the case she was working on was delicate enough that almost everyone involved were either erased from existence or given new identities. You won’t find her in any records.”
“Oh.” Midoriya shuffled. “Sorry to bring up bad memories, sensei.”
“It was a long time ago, kid. Don’t worry about it.” Shouta hesitated, “Would your mother mind if I kept these?”
Midoriya nodded. “Mom said you might want them.”
“Thanks.” Shouta tucked them carefully into a pocket. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with All Might today?”
Midoriya yelped in shock, “I’m late! Bye, sensei!”
The door slammed behind him and Shouta shook his head as he snuggled back into his sleeping bag. Kids.
—
Shouta isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but the summons from the Hero Agency that picked up Midoriya’s internship after Nighteye’s death was not it. Wondering what the hell the Problem Child’s done now, he travels down to the northern end of the city where one of the bigger Hero Agencies in the world was situated.
Yuuei’s care carried him up the drive to the door, and Shouta sighed at the ridiculous size of the place. Technically not Villains was a large building with five stories and a sprawling rooftop garden. Shouta would bet a years salary that there was more building underground. TNV never did anything by halves, and the entire office itself was a sprawling estate. Shouta dreaded to consider why they needed all that space, but considering the nature of some of their quirks, he imagined the extra space was meant to be a safety buffer. He left the car and entered the lobby and walked toward the small office situated right in front of the doors. Well, he said it was right in front of the doors, but the lobby from front door to rear wall was the rough length of an american football field. Yeah, they were that ridiculous. He strode past a few chairs that were occupied by people, visitors and employees alike, ignoring the flash of eye searing yellow and green that wiggled by him, inchworming across the floor instead of walking like a sane person.
“Welcome to Technically not Villains Hero Agency,” said the blonde haired, green eyed woman sitting behind protective bulletproof glass. Her blue rain poncho shifted as she lifted a cup of tea to her lips, revealing a mint green mini-dress underneath. “How may I help you today?”
“I’m here regarding Midoriya Izuku,” Shouta said dryly, slapping his hero license onto the glass, “I have an appointment.”
The woman squinted at the license, tapped a few keys and squinted at the computer screen. “Yep. Phoenix’s Office. Fourth floor, take a left straight out of the stairs, left, right, first door on your left.”
Shouta slid his license back into his pocket and strode toward one of the inner doors. He had just reached the second floor when a short girl burst dressed in black burst into the stairwell, following a man? Woman? With light brown eyes and hair and tan skin.
“I’m telling you, Willow!” the girl was shouting, “Grimm really did braid my hair before she moonwalked out of the room!”
Will o’Wisp raised an eyebrow, “Right. You really should get some rest, kid. Seriously.”
“I’m not lying and I’m not overworked!!!”
Shouta shook his head as he climbed up another flight of stairs. He encountered a woman with scaled earfins coming down the stairs, and she nodded genially at him before continuing down, her black, orange and blue hair gleaming in the pale light of the stairwell. She paused as if realizing who she had walked past.
“Hey, Eraserhead!”
Shouta turned and looked at the woman, placing her face after a few seconds.
“Your kids are a mess. The hell has Yuuei been teaching them?”
“Not enough apparently,” Shouta grumbled as he turned and continued up the stairs.
Distantly, he heard the black clad girl’s voice drifting up, “Grimm did it!”
“Honestly, Swallowtail,” he heard Aenon say, “Grimm can barely take care of herself. I do her hair most days.”
The vent rattled and Shouta nearly punched the green clad child that tumbled out in his surprise. “Midoriya, what?”
“Sorry, sensei!” Midoriya laughed, “It’s a thing to take the vents when you want to get around. Elevators are dangerous outside of an emergency and the vents are faster than taking the stairs.” Something beeped from his belt. “Gah! I’m so late! See you later, sensei!” He lunged to another vent across the stairs and scrambled inside.
Shouta blinked at the empty vent from which he did not hear any frantic scrambling or banging. Huh. Kid learned stealth. Go figure. He continued to climb the stairs.
Finally, he reached the fourth floor, and there he encountered a… mirror? The other him laughed and a tentacle slithered out from under his shirt to scratch his cheek. Shouta blinked, feeling a headache coming on. What. The. Hell?
“Hi,” the tentacled him said.
The nearest door slammed open and a dark haired woman poked her head out. Shouta felt lightheaded. He knew that face. He knew that voice. But it was impossible. “Yo, Quint! Where’s my owie-bone-breaky-juice-drinking intern?”
“Hmm?” the tentacled man turned and his face brightened, “Hey, Manya! Kid’s scrambling here through the vents like his life depends on it.”
The woman-Manya? What kind of name was Manya?-strode to the nearest vent and shouted into it, “BRAT! GET YOUR ASS UP HERE! YOUR TEACHER’S HERE!!!”
There was a distant clang, and a shout, “Coming! Oww!” The woman stepped back and Midoriya tumbled out of the vent. “There are snakes in the vent, Mana-san!”
A short and chubby brown haired woman with brown eyes swanned out of another door with a pudding cup and paused. “Oh hey, Quint, Mana, kid. Uh, did the two of you time travel and are now being tracked down by your kid?”
Mana twitched. “No Shidake. That’s Eraserhead.”
“Eraserhead’s you kid?!”
“NO!!!” Quint and Mana shouted.
“He’s a mirror image of you both!”
“Nope.” Quint vanished into the vent.
“Shidake.”
“Yeah?”
“Run!” Midoriya shouted.
“Ten seconds to run.”
Shidake bolted.
“Ten!” Mana yelled, flinging a fireball after her.
Shidake vanished down the hall. “YOU SAID I HAD TEN SECONDS!!!”
Mana turned to look at the giggling green bean. “Get inside kiddo,” she sighed.
“Um, nope.” Midoriya leapt to his feet, “Sensei, please meet Phoenix, the Burning Heart Heroine, formerly Pyrobody Mana, Mana-san, please meet Eraserhead, your younger brother. Happy Birthday, Aizawa-sensei!” He fled.
“Get back here and explain yourself, brat!”
“Midoriya, what the hell?”
—
And they lived chaotically ever after. Lol kidding.
Shouta reconciled with his sister but swore he would never come within twenty feet of the TNV Offices unless his life depended on it for the sake of his sanity.
–Finite–
