Legends Yet Unwritten
Chapter One: Everything in it's place.

Aizawa didn't know why he woke up. Or, he did know why- the bed was cold, he was too free to roll around. He didn't even have a cat sprawled across the bed, taking up most of the room, much less other bodies. Sure, that was it. He was still unable to adapt to sleeping alone.

He stretched under the blankets, before throwing them back with a gasp at the chill. His boots sat next to the bed, his jumpsuit pooled around he ankles. That was the only, singular good thing about sleeping alone. He could put his boots there and no one would trip over them. He swung around, his bare feet finding them automatically. He pulled the black fabric up to his knees and pushed his hands down the sleeves, before he stood. Zip. He already knew his knife, ID, eyedrops and flashlight were in his pockets. The phone went into it's pocket, then the goggles were moved from their pocket and put around his neck. A length of capture weapon was already was already in the thigh pocket, a packet of caltrops and a pair of socks in the other. He leaned down, and tucked the laces into his boots.

No, it wasn't that there was a lack of warmth and safe scents that woke him. Something was out of place. "What are they doing now?"

He walked out of his suite, the soles of his boots and his deceptively easy gait made him utterly silent as he roamed the halls. Even the brushed surface of his coverall was soft enough that there wasn't even a scrape of cloth as he walked. Honestly, the loudest sound was breathing, or maybe the click of his knee. He hated that sound. He was getting old and he'd turned 30 not that long ago. Others had similar aches and scars. Heroing was a young man's game.

The kids all had their lights off. Doors showed as locked. The snorers were all in their place, as were the talkers. One or two had night lights showing from under the doors, but there wasn't anything that looked like screenlight. He had put in a rule- lights out at 10, your room light off by 11. Someone was out of place...

He slipped slowly down the steps, staying to the very center by habit. There wasn't a single creak, not even on flight two, stair seven which had it's slight creak on the inner edge. The underground had taught him to survive and he never tried to turn the instincts off. Mic found it tiring, which is why the blond was unplugged at home, behind locked doors. And why he could sleep through two cats trying to hide under him during an earthquake.

Aizawa sighed through his nose. He wanted to go home. He slept better at home. But at home, he would't sleep at all, wanting to be here.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see the problem. The living room blinds were drawn, which was weird, but he could see enough from the various clocks and indicator lights. A troublemaker. There was was a lump on one of the couches. There was a neatly stacked set of books on the table, a blanket pulled over the lump. There was a soft snore from the lump, a familiar, birded headed silhouette.

Fumikagi wasn't one of the usual troublemakers.

One of the shadows unwrapped itself from the boy and slithered over to Aizawa, pressing a finger shape to it's beak. "Please... he's been cramming for Miss Midnight's art test. He hasn't been sleeping well."

Aizawa shrugged, then yawned. Now he knew what was out of place. It wasn't like the time Mineta had started the dishwasher just before lights out- Aizawa just hadn't thought of it as a source of slight vibrations in the building, never having owned a machine to wash dishes. This was harmless.

"Eh... Get him up before anyone else wakes up, and don't make a habit of it." Aizawa started to turn to go back up the stairs. "Oh, and I-"

"-was never here." Dark Shadow threw him a thumbs up. As much as he sometimes rankled at being bound to this mortal, he did truly care for his other half. "And this never happened, right Caterpillar-sensei?"

Aizawa's eyebrow twitched. He knew that was one of the things the brats called him. He's been called worse. But... whatever. He could go back to sleep. He waved his hand lazily, dismissing the issue. He needed his sleep to.

He denied it if others called him accused him of becoming a "dad", but worrying about these kids was exhausting. Kan had the easy class. The safe class. The ones who obeyed, who were nice. The ones who weren't behind in their curriculum. The ones that didn't call him from the hospital. Who didn't have bullseyes on their backs. Who didn't sleep because nightmares were easier than memories. The ones who wouldn't be legends.

Kan could get a good nights sleep.

Aizawa wouldn't say it, but he had the better bunch of brats. He smiled as he faded into the dark going back upstairs.

Author's Notes: Corvids should stick together, so I'm kicking this off with Fumikagi.

And I'm not immune to Dadzawa. I'd be a lot like like him if I was in his place. I'd never admit it, I wouldn't even call them "my kids" where they could hear me. "Those brats" and "damn punks" and "what-did-they-do-now", they'd hear that. And what they would hopefully come to learn is that as "The Power That Be" in their world, heaven and hell alike bow to my authority, and my protection, where they are concerned.

As for that click in his knee, it's on loan from me. I've had it for 20 years, and if it wasn't there, I'd freak out.

Ashido is next!