Chapter Text
Dawn seems to haul her behind quicker and quicker each day.
Shouta Aizawa had found his way out of bed, woken up by the subtle sounds of wind against his window.
On the rare occasion of a day off, he might have appreciated that familiar rhythm. A day where his alarm should have been there to slap him awake? Not the best time.
Judging by the gaps of sunlight, he’s already about an hour late. Aizawa could only imagine the current state of his classroom.
With a groan he grabs his phone, shooting a text to Mic.
“Watch my classroom. Be there soon.”
Sent 9:04
The message is seen almost immediately, which if Mic weren’t also supposed to be working, would’ve been wonderful.
“On it! ;] You busy this weekend??? We should go get drinks or dinner or just have a night on the town. Let’s get craaaaaazy!!”
Read 9:04
“Get off of your phone at work. Be there in 10.”
Sent 9:05
“Hizashi Reacted ♡ to your message.”
Read 9:05
Truthfully, Aizawa probably could use a night out. Something he could nor would ever admit out loud. Nor would he ever do on his own. Usually Hizashi would be the one to drag him out to a farmer’s market or some late night radio mixer on an inconvenient Thursday night, but an outbreak of late night crime has made the tired civilian Shouta Aizawa shapeshift into full time Pro Hero: Eraserhead.
Aizawa was usually, rather always tired. But this? This infestation of busy work has absolutely drained him. It was one thing to be a sleepy Shouta, but when it comes to being an exhausted Eraser? Things start to get out of hand, and it was better to see it through to the end rather than take a break in the midst.. In his mind anyway.
Aizawa places his phone back on his nightstand, grabs his scarf and heads out of the door; just about three minutes into his venture, a lovely downpour begins to flow.
This would be another rare occurrence of Shouta Aizawa being unprepared. In this scenario, though, it was much more of an inconvenience than a misstep.
Rain didn’t ever seem to bother him for whatever reason… It just kind of happened. The rain was one of the few things in life that were almost always honest. You can always smell it coming, there’s usually an announcement of sorts and most often times, you can see clouds forming.
Shouta turns his last corner and gets beneath the awning, wringing his sleeves out. Before heading inside, he peeks up and watches the slowed drops of rain falling from the rim of the sheltered roof.
Clouds.
~
Aizawa takes slow yet dedicated strides to his classroom. Each sopping step reminding him of what trial might await today. He wonders how many times he’ll have to restrain Mineta today, or how many times Bakugou might just sear off his ear drums in training.
“Man, I really hope I left that spare sleeping bag…”Shouta grumbles to nobody in particular, sliding the door back. Nearly all the heads in the room turn to him, including his lightning bug friend.
“And here he comes now, the one, the only Class 1A Sensei, Pro Hero Eraserhead; also known as—“
“Enough of that.” Aizawa interrupts the impromptu introduction to his already familiar students.
“As much as I appreciate you watching my class, get back to whatever work you’ve evaded by taking this on.” Shouta scolds.
Present Mic, who had much better things to do, “Aww man! Me and the kids were just getting to know each other ya dig? Don’t be that way, Eraser! Y’know you want me to stay!” The usual teasing tone he takes when embarrassed in front of the masses.
“..Hizashi.”
Hizashi sucks in a breath. Taking in the current state of his buddy— exhausted, miserable, wet. He decides to go easy on him as he brushes past Aizawa. Not hard, but enough for both of them to feel.
Mic’s tone lowered, as if hushed to his face. “All right, All right. I’m going.” He says, only to Aizawa.
Mic reaches the door and he turns around; As if a switch flips in his brain to remind him that there’s further company. “But you do know you owe me something for this little favor, watching these rapscallions! whatever it is.. I’ll have to make sure it’s rocking!” Hizashi pokes his tongue out at the half-observant audience and takes his final step out of the classroom.
Mic strikes a pose before shutting the door behind him and driving his way down the hall. Whatever song of the day he’d remembered is suddenly a tune filling the vacant space in the school; all to be heard way down to the commons area.
With a deep breath in, Aizawa starts.
“Get into groups of three.”