Hey yall, sorry it's been so long since I've updated. To be perfectly honest, I'm kinda sorta not really on ffn as much anymore. I just find archive of our own a lot more user friendly? If you guys want more of this story, my user name is Wawa_Boonliang there. I'm up to chapter 31 on this story...yeah... I really am sorry...

Aizawa had a weak spot.

No one knew about this weakness of his, except that rat at UA and Hizashi, and Aizawa intended to keep it that way. It's probably the whole reason that rat thinks he'd be such a great candidate for a hero-teacher.

Aizawa can't stand kids with potential. They're worse than those idiots who have no idea what they're getting into. Worse than the kids who think it's a game. Worse than the wannabe's who don't stand a chance. There's nothing worse than kids with genuine potential for greatness.

Because he literally can't stop himself from bending over backwards for them. It's like he looks at them and sees a stray cat. He knows he should walk away. He knows that he can't personally take care of every single one, and why bother with this one in particular. And yet he always ends up doing the same thing, be it stray cat or cute little kid with astonishing determination and way too much naivety.

Kacchan McSplodey is the human embodiment of a stray cat.

Aizawa tried hard to think of all the women he'd saved recently, which one Kacchan might have seen him save that would inspire so much trust, hero worship, in this adorably violent tiny human. There had been so many, not to toot his own horn, but young woman and old women were some of the prime targets for scum looking for trouble.

In the end, though, he knew it didn't matter. The damage had been done, and he'd managed to secure the Number One hero spot in the heart of this spikey-haired middle schooler.

He wasn't at all pleased.

His fate had been sealed, however, when he stupidly stupidly decided to walk up to them and introduce himself. Kacchan had the balls to not only curse but curse while insulting his hero name. And do it with that look of obvious respect in his little face, that pleased smile.

Aizawa couldn't stand kids like that.

"What kind of martial arts do you know?" Kacchan had asked him, all but skipping as Aizawa led them back towards their homes. "Where did you learn? You went to UA, right? I wanna go there when I'm older! School is stupid right now, but I'll bet it'll be fun there! I'm gonna be the number one hero! Just watch me! I'll even beat All Might and Deku!"

Deku. Useless. It's what he called his little green friend, who hadn't really said much of anything. He was, understandably, wary of Aizawa and protective of Kacchan. He was so unphased by the insult his supposed friend kept using so casually, Aizawa couldn't help but wonder if it was actually his name. Kacchan didn't seem to be using it maliciously, either.

"All of them. Lots of places. Yes, and good luck. I'm sure you'll do great.," Aizawa snorted in response to Kacchan. The little explosion looked up at him with surprise and shock. Then, a tiny little smile, that seemed a bit sadder than his other grins, quirked onto his face. Then it was gone and replaced with that blindly bright grin, and a dozen other questions.

Normally, Aizawa didn't like being grilled like this. Normally, he'd send the kids on their way with a grunt and a reprimand to be more careful. But something about Kacchan made him answer back, be a bit more considering with his actions. Something about this child seemed…horrifically delicate, and it irritated (worried) Aizawa that he couldn't pin just what it was.

Not soon enough (too soon), they reached the boy's apartment complex. Kacchan stopped, midsentence, and looked up at Aizawa with his shocking red eyes. "You gonna fucking avoid us now?" the boy asked. His stomach turned cold. Deku was looking at his feet.

This damn kid. "Why would I?" Aizawa asked carefully, his voice gone flat and softer than it usually was, and he wasn't a loud person to begin with. The little boy only shrugged, looking away with a stiff bottom lip. Aizawa slowly kneeled, hand on his knees, and the boy's face whipped back to stare at him. They were level, eye to eye, Aizawa saw the naked hope in his face.

He was done for.

This damn kid. "I'll be in the park at five, tomorrow," Aizawa said, barely managing to swallow the sigh. "I might be in the mood to show you two how to properly throw a punch. Right now, you're more likely to break your thumbs than someone's nose."

Kacchan reared back and scowled ferociously. "I FUCKING KNOW HOW TO PUNCH! I BREAK BITCHES NOSES FOR FUN!" Then he whirled around on his heels and ran to his apartment door, before he stopped and looked back over his scrawny little shoulders at Aizawa. For a moment, it looked like he was confused why Aizawa was still there (that didn't break his heart, it didn't), then he slowly looked ashamed. Then confused again. It was such an honest look, such a pure, innocent look. Aizawa hated that look.

Kacchan slowly walked back to where Aizawa was still kneeling. There was a fragile wetness to his eyes. "…'kay" and Kacchan laid his forehead on Aizawa's shoulder. Aizawa froze. The next moment, the boy had dashed back to his home and closed the door behind him.

What?

"Thank you, Mr. Eraserhead."

Aizawa looked at the green boy, who had stayed, as he rose to his feet. "For what?"

Deku shuffled his feet. "Most grown ups don't like Kacchan." What? "They always just say he'll probably grow up to be a villain."

Anger.

He kept his voice level, though. Uninterested. "Even though he says he wants to be a hero?"

Deku just did that helpless foot shuffle, again. "He does things that people don't like," the boy met his gaze, and there was a fierceness in him that took Aizawa by surprise. "But it's not his fault. Kacchan doesn't understand things. A lot of things. He acts angry when he isn't angry, because he doesn't know what else to do! And he gets frustrated easy, so he isn't a good student but he really is smart, Mr. Eraserhead!"

"What doesn't he understand?" Eraserhead asked, leaning against the wall. The sun was starting to come up.

"People," Deku said quietly. "Mom says he's probably autistic, but don't tell him I told you. I don't want him to think he's broken. Kacchan likes being the best." Deku met his gaze again. Determination. "Kacchan is the best."

"What are your names?" Aizawa asked.

Deku looked thrown, then suspicious. "Why?"

Aizawa weighed his options. He may as well go with honesty. "I plan on doing a background check on the both of you, then I will approach your mothers. I'm a hero. I'm not going to be caught stealing children on a regular basis just because some snot-nosed brat wants to be a hero."

Deku's eyes brightened. "Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya! Y-you're gonna train us?"

Aizawa didn't answer, he just started to walk away. "Get inside, kid. Your mom's going to worry."

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There was no hope of getting any sleep, never mind that he was so exhausted he was practically staggering in zigzags by the time he reached his home. So, Aizawa looked up the two little imbecilic tots.

Midoriya had impressive grades, was consistently at the top of his class and a perfect record to boot.

Kacchan—Katsuki (no damn it Bakugo) had absolutely terrible grades, was either dead last or near to it in every subject, was labeled as a problem child with violent tendencies and had been in detention more in the past year than Aizawa had his entire life.

There was nothing about him being tested for autism, or even a learning disability. Usually, a kid this troubled would have had a lazy ADD or ADHD label tacked on him. But, there was nothing. No trips to councilors, no history of therapy sessions. Nothing. No extra curricular activities, no history of nannies or babysitters despite both of his parents working full time.

Aizawa was pissed.

He knew Kacchan—Kats—no Bakugo for all of an hour, but he could already tell that this kid was bright. His questions hadn't been the questions of an unobservant kid, they had been questions of someone who had spent a lot of time taking in information, processing it until they had a good understanding, then trying to fill in the gaps of that understanding.

Not to mention the training regiment he'd seen the boy employing. That had obviously been carefully thought out. No way this kid was too lazy or stupid for school, there had to be something else.

Which left teacher bias and parental neglect.

Grown ups don't like Kacchan.

Aizawa wanted to personally beat the crap out of any teacher who had looked down at little Kacchan—Bakugo for being different. It was their job to help kids like him, not push him to the back of the pack. That kid who wanted to get into UA, who was working so hard to be good enough for UA, but with those grades, it just wasn't possible. Not unless someone from the inside vouched for him.

Fuck.

Actual Fuck.

Aizawa hates kids like Kacchan.

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Inko Midoriya worked from home, she had since her husband had left her and her child alone. Her work could all be done from her computer, taking care of taxes and finances for people who were either too lazy to do it on their own, or who simply didn't know how to. It wasn't the most exciting work, but it put food on her table and kept her available for Izuku and Katsuki.

She loved Mitsuki, she was one of her closest friends, but somehow she had this image of Katsuki in her head that left her feeling like the little boy was fine being on his own, all the time. She saw Katsuki as a capable, strong young man and he was…but…he was also a very fragile, precious little boy. A little boy who was always looking up at her with that question in his eyes Was that good? Are you proud of me?

Mitsuki's husband was so used to just letting her do her own thing, too, that he mostly left little Katsuki to his own devices. After all, she'd heard him say once, he's basically his mother in a cuter package.

But Katsuki needed adults to take an interest in him. He craved it. There were times when Katsuki would just quietly sit next to her, and they'd talk. Those talks never failed to surprise her. They'd talk about current events, or why things are the way things are. Katsuki has such a mature understanding of everything. Inko agrees with her son, Katsuki should be doing better in school.

But then little Katsuki would be a little too violent, not realizing how powerful his quirk is, or how strong his own body is, or he'd yell too loudly, or he'd say something a little worrying, and people just assume he's a bad egg. They don't see him quietly keen to himself when he thinks no one is looking, like he's in pain. They don't seem him hug himself and squeeze his little eyes shut. They don't see him rub his eyes and bang on his chest. They don't see his tantrums or bad grades as a cry for help.

The just see a future villain. Inko wants to smack them all. All they're doing is creating a future villain.

People have never spared a thought, that Katsuki Bakugo might have more potential than they think. Which is why she was so shocked when a strange young man with lank, long black hair and tired red eyes asked if he could help babysit her son and Katsuki.

"B-babysit?" she asked, surprised. The young man had knocked on her door, and asked to speak with her about 'something of some importance, but if you're busy right now~" and she'd ushered him in, sat him down and made him tea.

"Yes," said the young man. "I've been—I've seen them wandering around. They're such good kids. I know they want to be heroes, and while I don't have experience teaching…I do have experience in being a hero." With that, he takes out his wallet and slides out a card, which he hands her.

It's a professional hero license.

"Eraserhead?" she reads, under her breath. "You want to train my son?"

"And Kacchan," the young man Eraserhead says. Inko can't help it. She giggles. The young man makes a disgusted, shocked face, then hurries to correct himself "BAKUGO!"

When she calms herself, she regretfully informs him "Eraserhead…I'm not his mother."

"To be perfectly honest," the man says. "I don't think his mother would care either way" Inko is first offended on behalf of her friend, but then forced to agree. "Which is why I'm asking you, Mrs. Midoriya."

"Please, call me Inko."

"…call me Shouta."

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Katsuki couldn't fucking wait for school to be over.

The teacher was droning on and one about fractions and decimals and reciprocals and while Deku was dedicatedly scribbling down notes, Katsuki was trying to figure out if he could untie the teacher's shoes with his mind.

It wasn't working just yet, but he'd get it one of these days.

"Mr. Bakugo," the teacher snapped. "Is there something interesting on my feet? Or is there some other reason why you refuse to look up here with the rest of the class."

Katsuki lazily looked up at him. "You've got crap fashion sense, you know that?" He watched in bland interest as the teacher's face started to turn puce. He couldn't help but compare this guy to Aizawa-sensei. He always compared his teachers to Aizawa-sensei. None of them ever came close to being the kind of teacher and just all around great guy his sensei was.

Is.

His sensei. Katsuki couldn't help but smile. Sensei would meet them after school.

A hand slammed down on his desk. "You will pay attention, or you will visit the principal's office. Do you hear me!" The teacher's face was so close to his, he could smell his rank breath.

"Yeah, I hear ya," Katsuki leaned back. The teacher sneered at him one more time, before returning his attention to the lesson. The class was told to copy down the problem on the board, work it out, then show a partner. Katsuki copied down the numbers, then just wrote a big number five for the answer. Sure, he was supposed to write down 17/48, but he had an image to maintain.

He looked at the girl to his left, and decided to make her his partner. He vaguely recalled her transferring to the class recently, couldn't recall if she'd made any friends. He glanced at her paper. She had written down 16/48 simplified to 1/3. He whapped her desk with his notebook to get her attention, trying for a friendly smile when she flinched and looked up at him through her thick bangs. "Your fucking answer is wrong, dipshit," he said helpfully. The girl loudly burst into tears.

The actual fuck? He looked over at Deku somewhat helplessly, and Deku—the cry baby—just wobbled his lip at him, green eyes filling with tears. Damn it all.

"Bakugo!" The teacher barked. "Principal's office, now!"

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Aizawa made it to the park fifteen minutes early, and was pleased to see the familiar green hair of "Deku" Midoriya. The greenette was standing alone, watching smaller children play in the grass and on the play equipment. Aizawa frowned, looking around around.

"Where's K—Bakugo," Aizawa asked the boy.

Midoriya looked up at him, a pout on his freckled face. "He's in detention." Aizawa's brows furrowed. "It's not even his fault though!" Midoriya looked either close to tears, or like he'd just finished crying. "I swear! Kacchan didn't mean to be bad! He was trying to help her!"

Aizawa blew out a heavy breath as he firmly, but not unkindly, took Midoriya by the arm. "What happened?" Aizawa asked him, as he led the boy to a bench. They both sat to wait for Kacchan.

"In math class, we were supposed to all partner up and compare our answers for a problem," Midoriya sniffled. "And Kacchan tried to help one of our classmates. She doesn't have any friends because she's so shy and doesn't talk to people. He told her that her answer was wrong, and he might have said it badly, but she started crying and now he's got detention but I looked at what Ichika wrote and it really was wrong!" Midoriya had started to babble, so Aizawa hushed him with a raised hand.

"Don't worry about it," Aizawa told him. "I'm already planning on discussing things with your school. Your mother and I discussed it this afternoon. We think it might be best to transfer you and Kacchan to a new school."

Midoriya looked up at Aizawa with an odd look on his face. "Kacchan?" Aizawa ignored him.

"She'll talk to Mrs. and Mr. Bakugo tonight. Failing that, there's always private tutors, but I think we should try to let him be around other children as much as possible."

There was more Aizawa could have said, but he was cut off by the pounding of little feet. He stood, turning, just in time for a small projectile to attach itself to his legs. "Hi sensei!" crimson eyes looked up at him. Fang-like teeth gleamed at him in a manic grin. "I'm late!" There was no apology. Just pure, childish joy.

Aizawa really fucking hates kids like Kacchan.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Meeting up with Aizawa-sensei was like a dream come true for Katsuki. It was weird, seeing him so young. He looked so much younger, acted so much younger. It was hard to understand how this Aizawa was only seven years younger than he had been when Katsuki met him the first time. The only big difference between now and then, as far as Katsuki knew, was that he wasn't a teacher, yet.

That day at the park ushered in a new chapter of Katsuki's new life. Aizawa was surprisingly gentle and patient as he taught him and Deku. Over the course of the first few weeks, he got a good idea of where the two of them were physically. His eyebrows had risen way up when he realized that Deku wanted to be a hero, too, despite being quirkless. But, in the end, he didn't say anything. He only brought up different non-lethal weapons and marital arts to start learning to use.

They met up every day after school, either at the park, in a private gym Aizawa had access to, the lot where they first met, a warehouse Aizawa showed them, or the Midoriya's home. Aizawa taught them how to turn their own bodies into weapons, taught them discipline, taught them laws and regulations, taught them strategy—which Izuku excelled at.

At first, Katsuki was determined to play the dumb kid he was pretending to be, like he did in school. But it was hard. So hard. Not the pretending part, no. He had that down pat.

It was the knowledge that he was wasting his sensei's time.

He couldn't. Not after everything Aizawa had done for him.

Katsuki worked his ass off.

Izuku seemed shocked at how fervent and focused and determined Katsuki was in training. But Inko seemed to just accept the change and Aizawa….Aizawa expected it.

Plus, there was this proud grin Aizawa would throw his way whenever Katsuki did something amazing. It made him want to try even harder. To give 110%.

His quirk was already as powerful as it had been the beginning of his second year of UA, and he was only fourteen.

The final year of middle school.

Aizawa had become a firm fixture in his life. Katsuki didn't know what he would do if Aizawa suddenly decided to bail on him. Probably hunt the bastard down and drag him back. He spent a lot of time with sensei, even when they weren't training. Particularly after one night when he was eleven.

Katsuki had pushed himself a little too hard, worked a little too long. By the end of his work out at the gym, his palms were aching and his lungs were heaving. He was trying to get a certain aerial maneuver down. He knew how to do it. He'd done it plenty of times in his old life, but for some reason his body didn't want to cooperate, and it left him crashing full speed into the ground.

Blood was caked on his face, and he must have hit his eyes 'cause those were fucking leaking, too.

Aizawa sensei had been in another room, teaching Deku gymnastics.

Sensei had walked in, Deku behind him, and seen Katsuki sitting on the floor wiping away blood and tears and snot. He'd flat out run to him.

The hero slid on his knees, bending low and scooping Katsuki up by his forearms. "Kacchan," Aizawa sensei had taken to calling him that stupid nickname from Deku. "Look at me." A gentle, cool hand cupped his chin and tilted his mangled face up. "Jesus, kiddo. What were you doing?"

"I can't," Katsuki clenched his fists, and clenched his eyes, and clenched the muscles in his fucking back, and his stupid arms that couldn't control his damn quirk and he tried to not cry but his lungs just keep heaving. "I can't."

"Shhhhh" That's something else new, unique to this timeline. Aizawa sensei treated Deku more or less like he'd always had. But he was always a bit more tender with Katsuki. Katsuki wasn't stupid, he'd noticed it. He'd just never quite figured out why. He can't say he minded too much, though. Maybe he was just playing that I'm a dumb kid card a little too often. A little too well. He probably looked like a dumb stupid useless child just then, bloodied up because he couldn't fucking control his own crappy quirk.

Aizawa had pulled him against his chest, using his ever-present scarf to wipe his face and fuck if that didn't make him feel guilty. His sensei was warm and firm. "You've got time, Kacchan. You don't need to have it learned today." Katsuki tried to argue, but all that came out was a gasping wheezing cough. Aizawa rocked with him and patted his back. It made Katsuki a little angry. He wasn't a fucking child, except…he was. They all thought he was. He forced the anger down as much as he could, but his whole fucking traitorous body still tensed up even further.

"Midoriya," Aizawa looked up at Deku, who was kneeling by them, letting their sensei take care of his best friend. "Go home. Tell your mother I've got him."

"O-okay, sensei."

After Deku left, Katsuki had managed to calm himself down, to just exhale the rage into his sensei's uniform. As much as he hated being treated like a fucking baby, that's basically what he was. He knew it. He looked at Deku and saw a tiny, helpless infant. He's physically the same age, so it would make sense that that's what people see when they look at him.

Even if it was fucking annoying that his sensei obviously thought he was a puny little kid.

"Can you stand?" Sensei's voice was soft. It was never this soft before. It was familiar and strange and Katsuki fucking hated how much he didn't hate it. He isn't a little kid, but his brain hasn't gotten the fucking memo.

"Asshole, of course I can fucking stand. I'm not a damn invalid."

Sensei ran a hand through his hair with a soft laugh. "Whenever you're ready."

Katsuki pushed away from Aizawa with a pout. He refused to meet Aizawa's gaze. "I'm fine." Aizawa smiled at him, and it was such a fucking patronizing smile that Katsuki had a hard time not exploding it off of his face. Except this was sensei. His sensei got a free pass.

"Come on," Aizawa-sensei told him, heading towards the doors of the gym, scooping up Katsuki's things as he went. A warm arm slung itself around Katsuki's shoulders, and he let it be. They walked down streets that Katsuki couldn't immediately place. They weren't going in the direction of his apartment. He didn't say anything, though. He trusted his sensei.

They left the main city, made it to a suburban area. The houses were all small and quaint and kept, the kind of homes with spotless fences and flowerboxes. A cat sat vigilantly on a wooden post in front of a nondescript home. When she saw Aizawa, she merped once before leaping down and disappearing.

Aizawa undid the latch of the gate near where the cat had been sitting, and gently pushed Katsuki through. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, clanging them as he flicked through them in his palm, then inserted one into the keyhole. Kastuki looked up at his sensei.

"Inside, brat," Aizawa nudged him, again, then stepped past and dropped Kastuki's things in a pile by the door, near where slippers and shoes were haphazardly stacked.

Katsuki just stood, sort of confused, in the doorway. Thinking back, it seems silly, but he always sort of assumed Aizawa sensei just lived at UA. He had that sleeping back, so Katsuki had thought he just sort of hoboed it up in the teacher lounge, mooching off of the coffee there. Then he realized that Aizawa didn't work there yet.

Soft, damp cloth gently dabbed and wiped his face. Aizawa had reappeared with a washrag. There was no smugness, no demeaning patronizing smirk. Only sensei with a rag and his flat not-smile. Katsuki let him wipe away the blood. "You look like you were mugged."

"If anyone asks it was thirty ninjas and I murdered them all."

Aizawa sensei sighed and flicked his nose. "Don't joke about murder, Kacchan."

"Why?" Katsuki didn't wait for an answer, so he didn't see the conflicted look that crossed his teacher's face. He just slipped off his shoes and traipsed into the living room, blatantly taking in every detail. "I didn't know you lived in a house." Katsuki said in wonderment, again missing the pained expression that Aizawa was quick to suppress. "Why am I here?"

"Are you hungry?" Aizawa asked in lieu of answering. Katsuki looked at him, wary.

"Why? What do you want?"

This time, Katsuki did see a strange expression on his teacher's face, but it was gone before he could decipher it. He guessed Aizawa was just really awkward and didn't know how else to comfort Katsuki besides offering food. "I want fish bread."

"After dinner," Aizawa quickly stepped around the boy and headed into the kitchen. They had dinner, watched crap television, and Katsuki ended up passing out on Aizawa's couch beneath his cat and about ten blankets. The evening was filled with cursing (from Katsuki) awkward silence (from Aizawa) and many stiff head pats and shoulder squeezes (also Aizawa).

But it became something of a tradition. Soon after, when Katsuki started the next year of school, Aizawa took up a teaching position at UA. Training time with him was pushed later in the day, and Katsuki and Deku ended up doing most of their usual routine on their own. Katsuki guesses that Aizawa felt guilty about it, because almost every day after training, he'd go home with Aizawa. Sometimes Deku would tag along. Aizawa would leave for patrol after Katsuki passed out (or, at least, pretended to). Katsuki wasn't a total ingrate, though. He made sure to go home to his parents at least once a week.

They never asked him where he spent his evenings though.

A few times, he'd randomly mentioned to his mom and dad about things he and Deku had been up to, or things he'd learned in training. His dad had smiled and hummed and his mom muttered something about him finally doing something fucking constructive.

He preferred going home with sensei, though. Now, he's fourteen, and ever since he first started going home with Aizawa, the man had taken to sitting him down and walking him through his homework.

It was nice.

Because now he didn't have to fucking pretend to be a moron, of course. That's all.

Aizawa patiently explained math concepts that Katsuki already knew, and always quirked a grin at him when he did them perfectly. Aizawa walked him through the history facts Katsuki had learned by heart years ago, and gave him treats or stupid head pats when he parroted them back.

Now that Katsuki was fourteen, though, he realized he was going to have to change his behavior. He thought back to how he had been in his first life, and realized that that just wasn't going to fly. He didn't know if he'd be able to bully Deku like that, in the first place. And, besides, sensei would tan his hide if he tried. So, instead, he thought back to how Deku used to act.

Quiet and kinda mousey? Smart, but jittery? Katsuki didn't know if he'd be able to pull it off, but damn it all if he wasn't going to try his hardest. So, he avoided eye contact. He spoke only when absofuckinglutely necessary. He tried to remember to add a random stutter every now and then. He fidgeted with his palms and bounced on his toes. He wasn't a moron, though. None of the changes happened over night. He was careful to spread out the shifts over the course of two months.

It must have worked, because none of his teachers ever batted an eye. Neither did his parents. Deku and Aizawa are fucking smart, though. That's the only reason, Katsuki told himself, that they were able to tell. He wasn't even mad. He was somewhat proud that sensei and Deku knew him well enough to think it was weird when he changed like that. Except, it made him feel just the tiniest, most smallest bit guilty when they asked him what was wrong, and he'd only shrug or act confused.

Aizawa hugged him a bit more, now. Deku clung to him like the fucking leech he was. Katsuki thought he understood, though. He liked hugging Deku, and he remembers that the first time around Deku's friends were always hugging him.

"Let me see your report, Kacchan," Aizawa sensei ordered him, setting down a mug of coco for him. "The one for your literature class."

"I didn't fucking read the book," Katsuki muttered. He tried to think of a suitable excuse. "I lost it." Aizawa's lip thinned out into a white line, and Katsuki fiddled with his pencil, not looking at him. He fucking hated disappointing his teacher.

Aizawa sighed deeply, and rubbed Katsuki on the head like he was the stupid cat. "I have a copy, somewhere. Hold on." Katsuki watched him walk away, in the direction of his bedroom. He sat quietly, waiting for him to return. He thought about what he would do when UA started, maybe he'd just disappear for a little while, camp out in the library. He could use the time to try and get his memory in order, come up with a solid game plan for the next few years now that he had a good idea of what changes had come about with him mucking around in the past.

Hopefully All Might would make an appearance soon.

Aizawa trudged back, and Katsuki held out his hands for the book. Aizawa didn't hand it to him. He just sat beside Katsuki and wrapped his arms around the boy. They were both very stiff, rigid. Not used to hugging despite Aizawa attempting to at least once a day. He knew from listening to Mrs. Midoriya and Deku that sensei apparently thought he was "love-starved", which was stupid, but he wasn't sure how to go about arguing his case.

"Sensei?"

Aizawa patted his back, self-consciously. Thunk. Thunk.

"You know I'll always listen to you, right Kacchan?"

Katsuki nodded, not sure what the heck was going through his teacher's head.

"You know I'd fight for you?" Katsuki smiled and gripped the fabric of his teacher's shirt.

"'course."

Aizawa was quiet, then he pulled back. Gave him a lopsided, forced smile that somehow still seemed genuine, then cracked open the book, cleared his throat, and started to read.