One private teacher group chat. One painfully obvious crush. One unfortunate discovery. And suddenly, Aizawa’s secret is no longer a secret.
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@eatininumakioutMonday. 7:42 AM. U.A. High School faculty room.
The coffee maker was already making that sound. You know the one. The dying-walrus sound. The sound of a machine that has seen too much and decided to give up.
Aizawa Shouta was already at his desk, slouched in his chair like a man who had long since made peace with the fact that sleep was a myth invented by people who didn't have to deal with twenty teenagers and a principal who was, legally speaking, a small mammal with too much power.
Across the room, Yamada Hizashi was doing something with his phone that required far too much enthusiasm for this hour of the morning. His leg was bouncing. His grin was spreading. This was never a good sign.
Yamada Hizashi
Shota. Shota. Shota. Sho—
Aizawa Shouta
If you finish that sentence, I'm erasing your vocal cords.
Yamada Hizashi
grinning You can't erase what's already a gift to humanity, my man!
Aizawa did not dignify that with a response. He simply stared at his coffee like it owed him money.
The door opened again. Kayama Nemuri strolled in, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, radiating the specific energy of someone who had already been awake for three hours and was disgustingly smug about it.
Kayama Nemuri
Good morning, boys. sets her bag down with a little too much flourish Are we ready for another week of shaping young minds?
Aizawa Shouta
I'm ready for a nap.
Kayama Nemuri
When are you ever not?
Aizawa Shouta
Fair.
His phone buzzed.
Aizawa glanced at it. Group chat: U.A. Faculty (Definitely Professional).
The group chat had been created two years ago by Present Mic under the noble intention of "streamlining staff communication." It was now a graveyard of bad memes, passive-aggressive scheduling debates, and Nemuri posting thirst traps of fictional characters at 2 AM.
Aizawa had muted it six times. Somehow, it kept coming back.
<Narrator>: The current message was from Yagi Toshinori. It read:
Yagi Toshinori: Good morning, everyone! I hope you all had a restful weekend. I was thinking perhaps we could discuss the upcoming joint training exercise during lunch?
Aizawa stared at the message.
Internal monologue: (It's 7:43 in the morning.)
Internal monologue: (Why is he like this.)
He did not respond. He simply locked his phone and took a long, slow sip of coffee.
Yamada Hizashi
Oh! Speaking of the group chat—
Aizawa Shouta
We weren't.
Yamada Hizashi
We should do something tonight. Staff bonding. Like old times. Just a few of us, some drinks, maybe—
Kayama Nemuri
You just want an excuse to gossip.
Yamada Hizashi
Nemuri. Sweet Nemuri. Beloved Nemuri. I have never gossiped a day in my life.
Kayama Nemuri
raising an eyebrow You once told me Vlad King cried during a rom-com.
Yamada Hizashi
THAT WAS PRIVATE INFORMATION.
Aizawa considered, for the third time that morning, whether it was possible to erase himself from existence.
The answer was still no.
The door opened once more. More staff trickled in. Cementoss, already grading something. A few teachers from the general studies department. All of them moving in that slow, resigned way of people who had accepted their fate.
And somewhere in the building, the students of Class 3-A were beginning their day, blissfully unaware that, among the faculty, a slow-motion disaster was already brewing.
But you? You were just trying to survive your final year.
Which, honestly? Valid.
It was almost time for homeroom.