Chapter Text
He had never liked school, not so much. Too many people, too much noise, it made his head hurt. He had never liked school, and first days even less. To the many people, to the loud noise added the amount of new information he had to process, of course it wasn’t making his head hurt any less, on the contrary. (If only he could) (erase them all) (their voices) (loud, too loud) (their eyes) (staring, always staring at him) (If only he could)
He blinked
stared at his feet
Walk fast
Walk fast
He had never liked school, and UA was not different. He had never liked first days, and his first day in the hero course was not different. First of all, because he struggled to find his way to the classroom, who was the architect who designed the ridiculous H-shaped building, he wondered, students were bound to get lost in there, he was bound to get lost in there. Second, because everyone was loud, everyone was so loud. Excited, for most, alright, he got that, he was excited too, nervous as well, it was a turning point in his life, after all, though it wasn’t showing on his face (none of his emotions) (ever was) though he wasn’t yelling it out for everyone else to hear (when he was getting loud) (it rarely was good news) though he wasn’t making weird gestures with his arms, or else (he was usually) (quiet) (some would say too quiet) (his parents, for instance)
He blinked
stared at his desk
Don’t look at them
Don’t look at them
If only he could erase them (the people) (their eyes) If only he could erase them all (staring staring staring) If only he could erase it (the noise) (the loud noise) If only he could erase it all (it hurt it hurt it hurt it-)
He blinked
unzipped his bag open
He couldn’t put his hands on his ears
not in public
It wasn’t allowed, it was weird
He knew as much
He pulled out his notebook, pulled out his pencil case
aligned them on his desk, one by one
He couldn’t take the risk of making eyecontact
not with strangers, not on the first day
He shouldn’t, socialize, make friends
He had never been very good at that
He tugged on his skirt, his ridiculously short skirt
under the desk, once, twice, thrice
He hated those outfits, he hated those uniforms
it made him feel weird, exposed
It was his fault, perhaps
He should have filled the form, perhaps
If only he could dress the way he wanted to dress, it would be so much easier. If only he could wear anything else, anything else than these ridiculously short skirts, it would be so much easier. If only he wasn’t told what to wear, how to wear it, with little to no regards to how he felt, to how he might feel, to how any person might feel, honestly who was comfortable with their legs exposed like this, who was comfortable with everyone staring at their exposed legs like this, no one he was sure, no one and definitely not him. (If only he could have) (had some courage) (told his parents) (filled the UA form regarding his gender identity) (if only)
A coward
was all he was
Talk about
a future hero
He couldn’t stand
for his own identity, for his own name
How could he defend
the others, the weaker ones?
Pathetic
Pathetic
Pathetic
He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home where he couldn’t be seen, he wanted to go home where he couldn’t be perceived. He wanted to go home, where it was safe and quiet. He didn’t belong here, in a classroom. He never had.
(He didn’t want to be a hero)
(for the social aspect)
(He didn’t want to be a hero)
(for the fame, or cameras)
(He just wanted to help people)
(He expected nothing else in return)
(He didn’t care)
(about the recognition)
(He didn’t care)
(about the rankings)
(He only wanted them) (to feel safe)
(because he never really) (felt safe)
He wasn’t feeling safe, right now. The people, the noise, the unknown environment, the uniform. None of the parameters was set to make him feel safe.
“Hello, there!” the student sitting at the desk next to his even less “How are you doing on this beautiful day?”
Blond hair, ridiculously big smile, shades. Not to mention he was the loudest of them all. None of the parameters, indeed, he couldn’t consider himself lucky.
“I’m” he mumbled, curled his fist around his skirt, slowly, before averting his eyes (don’t look at me) (don’t look at what I wear) “Fine.”
He didn’t even reciprocate the question. He didn’t even try to make an attempt at a conversation. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be needed. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to.
“I’m Yamada” and he was right, as the guy put a hand on his chest, introducing himself in a very dramatic fashion “Yamada Hizashi” and he was right, as the guy went on and on despite Aizawa barely uttering a word “And you are~?”
How should he answer this question? Honestly, telling the truth, giving him the name he had chosen for himself? Carefully, revealing only his family name, since their homeroom teacher would call him by his full name anyway, and he couldn’t trust a stranger he just met with a secret as important as this one? Strategically, uttering his full name, and saving himself the trouble of having to explain himself as to why he would give a different first name, or no name at all? (He didn’t like that last option) (This name was making his skin crawl, didn’t feel like his own) (just like this skirt, didn’t feel comfortable, at all)
He blinked
looked at the boy, just a little, to be polite
Oh, you are
You are
He looked radiant, Yamada Hizashi. Perhaps it was his shining golden hair, perhaps it was his ridiculously bright smile. He looked radiant, warm. Like the sun on a hot summer morning. He looked radiant so
“Aizawa” he did what he never did, when it came to introduce himself to people he didn’t know “Aizawa Shouta.”
He gave him his full name. And not the name written on his student ID, and not the name written on his every chart, his every book. And not the name his parents granted him with, because he was born a girl, because he, still, looked like a girl. But the name he had chosen for himself. But his one true name.
“Shouta, hmm” Yamada’s smile grew wider, and Aizawa somehow expected a remark, more or less nasty, or a glare (though hard to tell) (if he was to keep his shades on) “Guess we’re about to have a very rock-n-roll year together, yeah?” that yeah was especially loud, not sure he would survive the first trimester if Yamada proved to be this loud, all the time “Can’t wait to show you my quirk, you’ll see, Shouta, it’s amazing.”
It was the first time. It was the very first time. The first time someone called him by his name, by his own true name. He had used it, before. Online, on forums. Easier this way, with just text, without his voice, without his face, he could convince everyone, and no one had to know. He had used it, before. Online, never in person. As such, it was the first time he heard someone call him that way. As such, it was the first time he was hearing out loud that name he picked, long ago.
Shouta
Shouta
Shouta
Shouta
Shouta
Too much. It was too much.
“Aizawa” a mistake, he made a mistake “Call me Aizawa.”
Weird. It was too weird. Too much, too soon and he should have thought that through. He tried to think that through. Except his mouth spurred the name before he could understand what he was doing, an autopilot of sorts, it tended to happen when he was stuck in a social situation, and now he was wondering if he made the right choice. If he voiced the right name. He would know soon enough.
He would know
when the teacher would call his name
He would see
Yamada’s face
He would see it change
when Aizawa would rise, at a girl’s name
He would brace
Yamada’s rejection
It had to happen sooner or later
He was never fitted for human interaction, after all
Better if it happened sooner than later. He hated it the most, when his classmates happened to realize he was weird, when his classmates happened to realize he was too cold, too detached, too uncaring, too rational, never showing his emotions enough, never paying attention to the others’ needs enough. He hated it the most, when he was given the illusion of normality, the illusion of understanding, just to be discarded, once more, because he was too odd to properly fit in, in the first place. He hated the most, when he was proven, once more, here as well wasn’t a place where he could belong.
Except he was different
Yamada Hizashi
Rejection never came. He waited, though rejection never came. When the teacher called his name, his full name, his official name, the name that made his skin crawl, everytime, and today was no different. No change on Yamada’s face, who kept whistling and juggling with his pens, as if completely oblivious to what just happened. No change in Yamada’s attitude, who kept calling him Shouta, who would always call him Shouta, no matter how much he asked him to use his family name instead, worse, Yamada would use male pronouns and substantives to refer to him, even if he never asked him to, even if he was wearing a skirt, an awfully short skirt, a girl’s uniform. Rejection never came. No matter what he wore, no matter what he looked like, no matter what he sounded like. He waited, though rejection never came.
Yamada was different
and his heart started to fill with a strange warmth
Can we be
Can we be friends?
(I would like that) (You’re radiant)
(I never really had) (a friend)
He never really had a friend, hence he didn’t have the codes. He never really had a friend, mostly was mocked for his attitude, his posture, his knowledge or simply his inability to properly fit in. He never really had a friend, mockeries died down when he manifested his quirk, people were weary of his quirk, it scared them, not to be able to use the powers they were all relying on on a daily basis. Mockeries died down but it didn’t make the whole fitting in any easier, on the contrary. Not only was he too cold, too detached, too uncaring, too rational, but now he had a dangerous quirk everyone should be careful of. The same would happen with Yamada, as well. When he would realize Aizawa could erase his quirk, no matter how amazing it could be, he would no longer be interested in him.
The strange warmth
wouldn’t last
The few times he experienced it
it never did
Why would this one
be any different?
Though he would enjoy the warmth, while it was still there. Though he would enjoy the sun, while it still shined.
“Shouta, Shouta, Shouta” Yamada shook him vigorously, he was loud and also not afraid of physical contact either (this would be) (troublesome, to say the least) “We must rush, or all the good seats at the cafeteria will be taken” (quite troublesome) “Quick, quick, quick!”
He never liked looking people in the eye, it made him uncomfortable for some reason. He never liked loud noises, it made his head hurt. He never liked being touched, by his close ones he could tolerate, but strangers never. And Yamada happened to be a dreadful combination of all three.
“I’m not going” Aizawa shook his head, shrugged himself free “I’ll eat on the rooftop” before he pointed out at the ceiling “It’s quieter there.”
Lunch was usually the only moment of the day he could get some rest from all the people, some rest from all the noise. An habit he picked in middle school, and didn’t intend to discard. A classroom might be difficult to endure, but nothing could compare to the hell that was the cafeteria during lunch hours.
The roof
The sky
And the quiet
of the wind
A place where he wouldn’t want
to put his hands over his ears and disappear
“The roof?” Yamada arched an interrogative brow “But I didn’t bring my lunch with me, I-” how is this a problem? (he can go to the cafeteria) (on his own) “I don’t have anything to eat, Shouta!”
Aizawa. I already told you to call me Aizawa. Or classmates will start to notice and I don’t want to have to explain myself. Not on the first day, not ever if possible.
“You can” perhaps Yamada was just trying to be polite, perhaps Yamada was just trying to be kind “Eat at the cafeteria” it was common, not to let classmates you’re starting to bond with on their own, not that Aizawa really understood why, he didn’t mind being on his own “I don’t mind.”
Except now Yamada seemed… sad? Weird, they just met. It wouldn’t make any sense if his classmate were to miss him on such short notice, would it? (But people were weird, inconstant) (full of) (ugly variables)
(And Yamada Hizashi)
(was different)
“I don’t” a sadness he tried to cover with another of his bright smiles and an elbow kick to Aizawa’s waist (what an idiot) “I don’t want to leave you alone, you’d be sad.”
It would require Aizawa a lot of time, a lot of days and a lot of iterations of this exact same sentence to understand that, in fact, Yamada was the one who didn’t want to be alone, that, in fact, Yamada was as clumsy as Aizawa when it came to making friends, because, if Aizawa was too silent and detached, Yamada was too loud and getting too close too fast, if Aizawa was too rational, Yamada was too emotional, if Aizawa was uncaring, Yamada was annoying. A lot of time, a lot of days, a lot of iterations.
And today
was only their first day
“I guess” he sighed, rubbed the back of his head “We can share, my mother usually puts too much food in my bento anyway.”
Their first day
yet he made another offer
that was very unlike him
His name
Now his lunch
How far would he go, for Yamada Hizashi?
If he had be told
he would have never
believed
And his heart filled with this strange warmth, once again.
Weird
so weird
He couldn’t understand
He couldn’t understand anything at all
Yamada was loud
Yamada was annoying
Talking endlessly
Eating the food his mother made
And yet
yet
He couldn’t take his eyes off
the annoying loud boy who was eating his lunch
He, who couldn’t socialize
He, who couldn’t sustain eyecontact
He was even finding
his presence reassuring
He, who never really had a friend
He, who never belonged anywhere, truly
What is your secret
Yamada Hizashi?
You’re radiant
You’re warm
just like the sun
just like your voice
Can we be friends?
(I would like that)
“Good morning, Aizawa.”
He never liked it, when the girls were giggling. He always assumed it was directed towards him. Because he could never wear his skirt the right way (He never understood) (what the right way was) (to begin with) Because he could never do his hair in a cute fashion (He didn’t care much) (and it was untameable anyway) Because he never had a cute accessory, or jewelry (He wouldn’t) (they were too much a bother to begin with) He never liked it, hiding his identity made him paranoid that way.
“Good morning” so he simply mumbled.
The giggling didn’t stop. Not when he opened his locker, to put on his indoor shoes. On the contrary, the giggling went louder. (What) (did he) (do wrong) He hissed, raised a hand to grab the shoes. Though his eyes met with a dark package, on top of the white sneakers the students were required to wear. A dark package, crowned with a white envelope. (The reason) (for the girls’ giggling) (it was safe to assume) He sighed, shook his head, shoved the envelope in the pocket of his jacket (Yamada) (probably) (who else) (he had no friend) (and that loud boy was practically glued to him) grabbed the package, which was surprisingly a lot lighter than he expected and made a soft sound under his fingers (What is it) (clothes?) (and why didn’t he give him in person) (anyway) He sighed, shook his head, made his way to the rooftop, he still had a little time, before the first period.
What could it be?
And why his locker?
(It wasn’t the first time)
(Yamada made him gifts)
So why hide this one?
Why not give it to him directly?
(Books, food, flowers once)
(He was embarrassed) (never knew what to answer)
And why the letter?
What could it mean?
(The girls were giggling) (they saw something)
(he never liked it) (when girls giggled)
He opened the package. Slowly, carefully, his fingers were trembling, his hands were shy. (He didn’t know) (what to expect) (perhaps he should have read the letter first) no (the letter was an even more terrifying prospect) He opened the package. Slowly, carefully, taking more time than it actually required, to open a package this size, some would argue he was stalling (he wouldn’t argue) (he was stalling) He didn’t know what to expect, he never knew what to expect, Yamada was unpredictable, his ideas were weird. He didn’t know what to expect, and his eyes met with-
Oh.