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When Aizawa had started teaching at UA he’d had the option to turn down pro hero work. Most Pro’s never stopped working completely, even after retirement they still were there to lend a hand in emergencies, and in UA this had proved to be more helpful than Principle Nezu had hoped for. Regardless, it still was uncommon for the teachers to hold up two jobs full time. 


But hell, Mic had three. 


Aizawa had opted to do as much pro work as possible when he signed his teaching contract. With the popularity of Pro’s on the rise thanks to merchandising and increased media reports, underground work was becoming less and less prominent so teaching had seemed like the most stable route for a steady income for someone like Aizawa. Like hell was he letting the underground career die out with him though. The thought of fame and popularity that came with most hero work nowadays made him shudder. 


But because of that, Aizawa often found himself out on patrol on a weekday. 


Perfect for an insomniac like him. 


It was about half an hour before he was due out this current Wednesday and the pro decided that coffee was what was needed. 


It was approaching 9pm so most of the students had already eaten dinner and were either milling about the common room or doing work in their rooms but as Aizawa turned the corner into the kitchen he came face to face with Ashido, Yaoyoruzu, Jiro and Hagakure. 


“Sensei!” Ashido cried with so much excitement Aizawa could have probably rethought the coffee. “Are you going on patrol tonight?”


“Yes,” Aizawa replied wearily, searching the back of the cupboards for the coffee filters. There was a buzz between the four girls as they moved, as one, round the kitchen counters to the sofa’s just outside. Aizawa caught glimpses of conversation as he made a drink.


“This would be perfect,”


“Do you have everything you need?”


“He won’t be angry will he?”


Aizawa turned on his heel and faced the group but Ashido beat him to it.


“Sensei, can we do your hair?”


“No,” he replied turning back. 


“Awh but please! You won’t regret it I promise!” Ashido pleaded, Aziawa scowling from his turned position.


“It’s a good idea! And you’ll look cool,” Hagakure added doing some sort of pose with her arms. Aizawa envisioned finger guns. Jiro shrugged in confirmation, a grin on her face and even Yaoyoruzu was curling her own hair round her fingers looking up at her teacher. 


“It won’t take a moment,” she said. 


Aizawa stared down at his students, their hopeful faces beaming up at him. He looked at his watch, twenty five minuets before he was due out. He eyed up his coffee, still brewing. 


“Will it be less than five minutes?” he asked.


There were gasps.


“Definitely!” Ashido confirmed. 


“Only if I can drink coffee at the same time,” he replied, picking up his cup. There was a commotion between the girls as they ran round to the sofas, moving their work so Aizawa could sit down. Hagakura was even jumping in the air. 


Aziawa sat and placed his coffee down on the table in front of him, not sure of what to do with all this attention from his students. Luckily Ashido, Hagakura and Yaoyoruzu were stood behind him, only Jiro sat next to him, using her fingertips to scrap loose bits of hair, carefully out of his eyes and away from his scar. 


Ashido was much firmer with her actions, as she started combing her teachers hair through her fingers, pulling it up to the top of his head. Hagakura would interject with ‘missed a bit’ and ‘oh over there’ and Yaoyoruzu was handing the pink skinned girl hair bands and hair clips as she pleased. 


All the girls seemed comfortable and happy with their work, pleased to be working on their teachers hair. It was a nice feeling for Aizawa… not that he’d admit that. 


A couple of minuets after they’d started Jiro pulled away from her teacher with a grin plastered on her face, looking at him front on and then up to the girls.


“It looks sick,” she smiled. 


“Oh let me get a mirror!” Ashido cried, coming round to look at her handiwork as she did. “Actually Hagakura can you grab yours?”


“Sure!” came the reply and Aizawa heard footsteps pad off in one direction. 


“Can I move yet?” Aizawa asked.


“Two seconds, you have to see what we’ve done first!” Ashido pleaded and Aizawa resigned, grabbing his coffee once more. Hagakura returned once more, a mirror floating in the air towards Aizawa’s face.


“Here you go!” she smiled as the mirror came to a stop. 


Aizawa looked. And stared. 


His hair had been dragged up in what seemed to be a tight top knot, tied by a few hairbands and decorated with an assortment of clips, it billowed out of one side almost fashionably but stayed in place as he turned from side to side.


“Now when you use your quirk your hair won’t give it away!” Ashido beamed, gauging her teachers reaction. 


Aizawa stared at her dumbfounded. 


“It was Ashido’s idea,” Yaoyoruzu smiled.


“Try it,” Jiro prompted.


And so, Aizawa who wasn’t used to such an audience, did. His capture weapon rose to fit into his hands and his eyes glowed their usual red but his hair, although lifting slightly, stayed exactly where it was. 


“It worked!” Ashido beamed.


“Awh neat!” Jiro commented as well. 


“Do you like it?” Yaoyoruzu asked, Aizawa staring back at his four smiling students.


“Yes,” he finally managed still startled at the simplicity of it. “Thank you,”


Aizawa didn’t think four girls could smile any wider. 


“Right let me hairspray it in place and then we’ll leave you in peace,” Ashido said, standing back round her teacher, Jiro lifted her hand to shield her teachers eyes and Aizawa let her, closing them regardless. After a hiss of a hairspray can, the girls got up and padded back round to the kitchen.


“Good luck tonight Sensei!” they all cheered before walking back to the main corridor of dorms chatting and giggling amongst themselves.


Aizawa was left in the kitchen, raising his hand to feel his new hairstyle.


On patrol, nobody commented on the new look or the pink butterfly clips and by the next day Aizawa had called  Ashido, Yaoyoruzu, Jiro and Hagakure to his room. 


Once they’d knocked he opened the door clutching at a pack of bobby pins.


“Teach me,” he growled.


The smiles on their damn faces.