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Aizawa's 20 something kids

Chapter Text

Aizawa rolls his shoulders, eyes focusing on the lump of blue and white at his feet. After a moment of watching said lump wriggle around like an angry worm, he finally stoops down and prods at it with one hand to grab its attention. A pair of agitated purple eyes meet his gaze with a soft growl. He just offers a raised eyebrow, amused and only slightly mocking.

“Fuck off,” Shinsou grumbles. Aizawa snorts, leans forward to help free Shinsou from his own weapon.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. Your eyes say everything for you.”

Although Shinsou sounds annoyed, Aizawa knows he’s just upset over another failure with the capture weapon. No matter how many times he’s told the kid it’s going to be hard to learn, he insists on getting upset every time he messes up. They’ll work on that, eventually, but for now Aizawa wants to help him nail down the basic technique. That, honestly, is the hardest part. Once you understand that, you can start to add your own dramatic flair to it with minimal struggle.
“Tell me what you did wrong this time.”
“I uh- my legs. I messed up my footing when I landed, so when I tried to move again I just got snagged.”

Aizawa nods his head approvingly, keeping his eyes on his student as the kid gingerly wraps the weapon around his shoulders once more. He’s come a long way from the boy who handled it so delicately and awkwardly on their first trial run with it, and Aizawa is proud even if he’ll never properly say it. He’s proud of Shinsou for being determined to improve, proud of him for wanting to be a hero despite everyone who said he couldn’t.
God, how did he end up getting so soft?

“What’s on your mind, old man?”
“Careful, I might make you run extra laps if you call me old again.” Aizawa gives the warning as seriously as he can, but Shinsou can read him too well these days. Kid definitely knows the threat is an empty one. “And nothing’s on my mind. Why don’t we try that whole number again? Try not to be an idiot about the footing this time.”
“Like it’s easy to make sure your feet land properly in the heat of battle,” Shinsou mutters, and Aizawa pointedly decides to ignore that statement for the time being.

Shinou steadies himself, hands on his weapon and eyes set determinedly. Aizawa is reminded violently of himself at this age, out in this very field with Hizashi and Oboro. They had laughed every time he got wrapped up in his weapon, but both were always quick to give him encouragement. Now it was his job to encourage, and he was shit at it. If only he still had those two to drag along. Now it was a miracle if he saw Hizashi for more than a few hours with how busy the other pro was.
“Ready?” Shinsou calls, and Aizawa gives an affirmative nod. Take ten.

Shinsou moves fluidly, confidently, and Aizawa feels like maybe this time will be the one. The kid pulls the weapon away from himself and then throws one end out, letting it wrap around the practice dummy they have set up. He jumps up, pulls, and lands. Aizawa holds his breath. The kid doesn’t find himself wrapped up this time, this time the dummy flies towards him, getting wrapped in the weapon as it does.
Shinsou lets out a victorious shout as he yanks the dummy towards himself to finish the whole thing off, placing a knee down to pin the thing before two wide eyes fall on Aizawa, paired with the brightest smile the kid has ever given him.

“Dad! I did it!”

Aizawa feels like he’s been punched several times, right in his chest. He can’t breathe, and then he realizes he needs to react before Shinsou has time to process what he said and feel like he’s ruined something by making things awkward.
“About damn time, kid. I’m starting to feel my age over here.” Shinsou spends a moment staring before bursting out into laughter. Aizawa just smiles, heart swelling in a way he’s gotten all too used to with this recent bunch of brats.

Fuck, he’s so soft for these kids.

“Good job, Shinsou.” He says as his smile finally falls away. “Now, do it again.”
He tries not to laugh at the agonized groan that follows.

Chapter Text

Aizawa feels like death warmed over. It’s a bad day for him pain wise, the ache in his arms and his head and his, well, everything, is more pronounced than it usually is. It’s not that he isn’t used to days like this (he’s too used to them, really), but being used to something doesn’t mean it’s not still a pain in the ass.
Needless to say, he knows he probably looks a little rougher than usual when he shuffles into homeroom that day. The kids, bless them, are used to his oddities by now and don’t mention the fact his hair is still pulled back from when he’d washed his face this morning, nor do they bring up the fact he can’t seem to keep his eyes open.

He gets through the first half of the day with as much ease as he can manage on a day like this, and as the lunch period begins he finds himself lifelessly sprawled on the floor with his sleeping bag just sort of draped over him. It’s not practical or logical but he’s tired and the floor is a somewhat soothing cool against the pounding of his head.
Aizawa blames the fact he can barely think past his aching bones for the fact he doesn’t notice someone entering the classroom until she says his name.

“Mr. Aizawa?” He definitely doesn’t jump at the sound of his name, though he does turn his head to look at the source of the noise. There stands Asui, her hands drawn close to her chest and her eyes flicking from him to the floor nervously. He’s not awake enough to deal with teen drama right now, but he’s their only source of comfort right now, so he sits up.
“What is it?”

She blinks at him before shuffling forward, and then she sits down next to him. “You’re having a bad day.” It’s not a question, so he doesn’t answer. Just watches her in a way he hopes conveys his need for a nap. “My mom has bad days, too. She’s got chronic pain in her legs.” Asui says it in her usual matter-of-fact way, and he’s grateful for that. He’s not sure he can handle a touchy feely moment right now.
“I’m sorry to hear that she does, but what does that have to do with me?” He tries to be gentle, for her sake, but judging from the anxious side glance she gives him he’s not doing a very good job.
“She says, sometimes, that having someone there helps, ribbit.”

Aizawa blinks.
Then blinks again.

“She says it’s nice not to be alone and in pain. Being in pain is bad enough without feeling isolated,” Asui shrugs, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “So I’m going to keep you company, ribbit.”
Aizawa isn’t sure he knows how to respond to that. Does he thank her? Does he tell her to leave?
“I know Mr. Mic sits with you, sometimes, but he was with the other teachers when I passed by the lounge.” She’s standing up now and heading back outside, only to return with her lunch. Apparently she thinks he’s agreed to this, then. “So I wanted to be sure you would be alright, ribbit.”

Aizawa is touched, which he hates. He wants to tell her to leave, but she’s settling down at his side again and dammit he can’t just tell her to buzz off when she’s in the middle of eating, can he?
Since when did he care about things like that?
“Don’t expect me to say much,” is all he mutters as he works to settle back down onto the floor. Asui nods her head, reaches out after a moment to help adjust his sleeping bag. Once he’s comfortable, they lapse into silence.

He’s drifting off when she finally says something. It’s soft, hesitant, and he honestly thinks she thinks he’s already asleep.
“Sleep well, dad.”

Aizawa finds that it is a little easier to sleep with someone there to keep him company while he does. It’s definitely not because she called him dad and that makes him disgustingly happy. That has nothing to do with it.

Chapter Text

The end of the day usually means Aizawa takes a short nap, grades a few papers, checks on the brats in the dorms, and then goes out for patrol after dinner. The end of the day also means training sessions with Shinsou every other day, now, and sometimes it means Hizashi and Nemuri dragging him out for drinks.
Aizawa isn’t used to the end of the day meaning Uraraka asking rather awkwardly if he could stay behind and speak with her for a few moments.

He doesn’t say no because apparently he forgot how somewhere along the way with this class, and that’s how he finds himself sitting at his desk watching Uraraka nervously fidget in front of him. She’s started to flush a bright red and she’s been stuttering out nonsense for at least two minutes now, and really, he just wants his nap.
“Uraraka,” he says as gently as he can because she’s fragile when she’s nervous like this, “what did you want to speak with me about?”

With his prompting, she seems to steel herself. Her blush slowly fades, although her cheeks are definitely still more pink than they usually are. She meets his gaze, though, and that’s impressive enough.
“I wanted to ask if you’d give me extra training. After school. Like you do with- um- Shinsou?” Uraraka’s confidence slips a bit as he continues to stare blankly at her, and he almost feels guilty. Almost.
“You want me to give you extra training? Why?”
“Well, after my internship with Gunhead, I realized I still needed to learn a lot more when it comes to physical combat. I feel like I’m behind everyone when it comes to that.” Aizawa makes a noise between a hum and a grunt in response to that, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

“Tell me, Uraraka. Why should I give you extra lessons? Why should I give you that edge that the rest of the class won’t have?”
She blinks owlishly at him, looking genuinely caught off guard, before her expressions steels once more. That a girl. Don’t lose steam just because it sounds like I’m saying no.
“Because you want us to succeed, and I’m not going to succeed as a hero unless I can fight.”
“Why ask me, though?”
“Because I think your style of fighting would suit me? I mean I don’t have a capture weapon, obviously, but-”

The girl begins to ramble, so Aizawa settles back in his seat to think while she does. Her nervous babbling is too hard for him to try and follow at this point in the day, brain sluggish from exhaustion. If he gave her the extra lessons she was asking for, she’d definitely benefit at least a little. And if he was really that worried about her having an unfair advantage over anyone, he could just offer it anyone who really wanted the extra lessons. It was going to be a pain in the ass because he’d be down a nap every day of the week now, but he could probably manage it just fine. Plus, there were a few students that would benefit from some extra work.

“And I mean you’re pretty small compared to some of the villains you fight-”
“Alright, Uraraka. I’ll give you the extra lessons. We start Thursday.” Uraraka stares at him, mouth hanging open from being cut off mid-sentence. Aizawa doesn’t say anything more, just quirks a brow until she’s breaking out into a delighted grin.
“Thank you, Mr. Aizawa! Thank you so much!”
“Whatever, kid. Just be in your gym clothes out in the field I use with Shinsou on Thursday afternoon after school. Got it?”
“Yep! I’ll be there! Love you, dad!”

Uraraka freezes up the instant the words leave her mouth, her eyes meeting his for a moment as they both try to comprehend what’s just happened. Aizawa can’t find any words while Uraraka stutters out a high-pitched, “see you tomorrow, Mr. Aizawa!”

The girl rushes out of the room in an embarrassed flurry after that, leaving Aizawa sitting in mute shock at his desk. Seriously, when did he end up as these kids’ dad? When did he agree to that? And why the hell did the idea of being their father make him so damned happy?

Chapter Text

He’s not sure why he expects things to go the way he wants them to anymore. This class has brought more unexpected chaos with it than he’s used to facing in his life as an underground hero, and really that should say something.

They’re practicing big finisher moves when it happens. There’s the sound of an explosion, which is familiar, but what isn’t familiar is the shouting that follows. Panicked shouting. From multiple students.
They’re shouting for him.

He moves as quickly as he can, scaling over the obstacles until he lands at Iida’s side. The boy’s eyes are wide and he look at Aizawa with such a helpless glint in his eyes that it makes the teacher’s heart ache.
“What happened?”
“Bakugo’s explosion set off a chain reaction of collapses and Kirishima took a bad hit.” Now, this wasn’t too big of a problem. The kid had a hardening quirk. He was probably just a little bruised, or- “Mr. Aizawa it- his quirk. He couldn’t-”
Damn it.

Bakugo is cradling Kirishima in his lap when Aizawa finally makes it over to them. Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari are all huddled around the two like nervous hens, and Midoriya seems to be taking in the extent of the redhead’s injuries. Aizawa shoos away everyone but Bakugo, demanding they give him space to see what the hell happened.
Kirishima’s head is bleeding, and if Aizawa’s eye aren’t deceiving him, it looks like his right side took a nasty hit as well. With that in mind, Aizawa takes in the fact the kid is conscious, barely, and trying his best not to drift off if the constant squinting and blinking is anything to go off of.

“Kirishima? Kid, are you with us?”
“Dad?” The kid sounds like he’s got a wad of cotton in his mouth that he’s trying to talk around, and when his eyes finally trail towards Aizawa they’re not even close to focusing on him properly. He’ll blame the definite concussion for the use of dad.
“Do you know who you are?”
“Ye-ahh. Yeah. Kirishima Eijirou. Sixteen. Never learned how to f’kin’ read.” Bakugo hisses something at him for that while the surrounding kids all let out watery laughs. Aizawa isn’t in the mood for jokes.
“Do you know what happened, Kirishima?”

His student stares at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment, and Aizawa can almost see the gears turning in the kid's head as he tries to think. Blood drips down his face, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I got. Hit? Blasty did a thing ‘n then I was. Here.” It’s vague, but Aizawa will take it for now.
“Alright. I’m getting him to Recovery Girl. Iida, Yaoyorozu, you’re in charge.” Aizawa glances at the two to make sure they understood before returning his attention to Kirishima and Bakugo.

“Let me take him.” Bakugo insists, eyes suspiciously bright as he stare Aizawa down. “This shit is my fault. Let me fucking carry the idiot.”
Aizawa doesn’t have the time to argue, so he just nods his head. “Alright. You look like you’re having trouble for even a second and I’m taking him. We aren’t risking dropping him right now.” Bakugo, it seems, is too upset about this whole thing to be offended. Instead, he gives a jerky nod before moving to rise up with Kirishima in his arms.

Everyone ignores Kirishima’s delighted, “Yeah! Field trip with Bakubro and Dad!”
Aizawa stays with Kirishima until he’s safely back at the dorm that night, and if he seems a little more protective of the red-head than usual in the next few days, no one feels the need to point it out.

Chapter Text

Aizawa lands and has a moment to consider the fact he can’t breathe before Hizashi is slammed down on top of him. The blond hero goes limp which means he’s unconscious, and Aizawa still can’t get a proper breath in.
Then the building collapses.

“Oi! What kind of teacher are you, dammit? Wake up!”
“Not so loud,” Aizawa feels like his mouth is full of dust and his head has been slammed into the concrete by a Nomu again. His chest aches with every ragged breath and he’s not sure what hurts worse, his legs or his left shoulder. After taking stock of his injuries he lets his attention turn to the sight of Bakugo hunched down in front of him looking incredibly cross, and in his own way, incredibly scared.
“You’re not gonna pass out again, are you?”
“Yeah. You woke up when I moved Present Mic but then fucking passed out again a minute later. Didn’t make much sense then either.”

Aizawa shakes his head a bit, though he’s not sure if he’s answering the kid’s question or just clearing his thoughts. Either way, the movement is protested by every part of his body so he’s quick to go still again.
“What’s- shit-” sitting up is definitely his worst idea, but he forces himself up anyways. His hands are shaking by the time he settles back against the rubble. It digs uncomfortably into his back, but he’s up and can face Bakugo without craning his neck to do so. The kid looks worried if Aizawa is reading him right, and that’s going to be an issue. Bakugo is the best of the students at keeping a level head in tight situations, but Aizawa knows this is a stressful one. Two useless pros that are supposed to be protecting him and a collapsed building.
What did these kids do to deserve such shit luck?

“Present Mic still hasn’t woken up,” Bakugo says once Aizawa stills. “I checked for anything really bad, didn’t find anything except a broken wrist.”
“Alright. And you?” Bakugo’s brow furrows and his mouth opens like he’s going to tell Aizawa off for thinking he’s weak enough to get hurt, but Aizawa summons up his best “don’t bullshit me right now” expression and the kid pipes down for a moment before answering.
“I got hit in the head by some fucking rocks or some shit. My right leg isn’t broken but it hurts like a bitch. Think I cracked some ribs.”

Aizawa hums, resting his head against the rubble at his back. God, everything hurts. Is there a way out of here? How long do we have? Will the rubble fall on us before help comes?
“Oi!” Aizawa blinks, eyes focusing back onto Bakugo. When did the kid move in so close? “Fucking stay awake you shitty ass hero.”
“I’m not much help even if I am awake,” Aizawa points out wearily. “But fine. Do you see any holes?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve checked a shitton of times so don’t fucking tell me to try again. I did try.”
“Do you have any way of communicating with anyone?”
“No, my shitty ass communicator bullshit broke. Got crushed or some shit.” Aizawa sighs, then starts patting himself down.
“I should have- here. Try this.” Aizawa holds the device out with a hand that shakes like a leaf in the wind. He hates it. It reminds him of Toshinori on his worst days, when he can’t stop shaking and blood always seems to be on his lips. I need to focus.

Bakugo spends the next few minutes trying and failing to contact anyone until he finally tosses the device aside with a snarl. So much for level headed.
“Kid, calm down. I’m sure-”
“I am fucking calm!”
“No, you aren’t. I need you to take a deep breath. We’re going to be fine, alright?”
“I know that,” Bakugo says it with a sneer and Aizawa has to jostle his bad shoulder to keep from rolling his eyes.
“Kid, now really isn’t the time for your tougher than thou shit. This is a bad situation and it’s fine if you’re upset, I’m upset too. We need to work on getting out if we can, and if not we need to work on surviving until help gets here. Okay?”

The kid spends a minute glowering at him before his shoulders drop and he nods his head a bit. “Yeah, fine, sure. Whatever.”
“Good. Alright.” Aizawa pauses, grimacing at how scattered his thoughts are getting. He needs to think of a plan, needs to have something to tell the kid to do. His mind isn’t working, though, and all he can think about is the fact that everything hurts and he can barely breathe. He’s not sure how long he spends trying to catch his breath and clear his mind, but Bakugo leaves him to it this time.

“There’s no way we’re getting out of here until help shows up.” The kid says after… shit, how long has it been? “Just- should I keep you up?” Aizawa grunts, furrowing his brow. Should he be kept up?
“I’m not sure, kid.”
“What do you fucking mean-”
“I mean I can’t think straight, Bakugo.” His voice comes out harsh but in his defense he’s in pain and tired. The kid doesn’t seem to mind his snapping either, just scoffs and shuffles over with clear difficulty.
“Then you probably shouldn’t take a nap, old man.”
“Don’t call me old man.”

Bakugo, to Aizawa’s surprise, lets out a quiet laugh at that. It’s not mocking or assholish it’s just… the kid laughing at something he found funny, apparently.
“Sure. Whatever. Just don’t fuckin’ fall asleep, alright? I don’t want to have to drag two of you assholes out of here if it comes down to it.”

Aizawa huffs out a feeble might-be-a-laugh at that, turning his gaze to Mic for a moment. A pang of concern shoots through him like a bolt of electricity before he tears his eyes away from the unconscious hero to the kid that has settled down against his side. Bakugo thankfully decided to use his right arm as a head rest rather than his left.
“How’re you holding up, kid?”
“I’m fine, obviously.”
“I’m fine. Not falling asleep, the ribs and my leg fucking smart but it’s not the end of the world.”

The kid shrugs to try and show how nonchalant he feels, but Aizawa still feels the need to shield him from the world. Maybe that’s just the brain damage speaking. Bakugo doesn’t want or need him protecting him, and he can’t do much protecting right now anyway.
“Old man?”
Hell, he may end up dying here. Stuck under a pile of rubble with his best friend and his student. He doesn’t want the kid to have to see that, though. He’ll keep his heart beating and his lungs breathing as long as he can, but damn is it ever getting hard to focus on being awake.
“Oi! I said don’t fucking fall asleep! Are you listening to me?”
Aizawa hopes the other students have gotten out safely, or will get out safely. These kids have been put through so much, it wouldn’t be fair to any of them to die like this. Shit, the kids might be dying. He should do something about that, but… damn everything is so heavy. Too heavy. He can’t even move his fingers, though not for lack of trying. Or he thinks he’s trying. Trying to do what, again?
“Dad! Fucking wake up, you bastard!”

Since when was he a father?
Shit. Bakugo.
“We’re down here! Fucking hurry up, you bastards! He’s dying!” Aizawa wants to articulate that he’s not dying, but then he realizes he can’t open his eyes and alright, yeah, that wasn’t a good sign. Bakugo sounds genuinely panicked as he barks out responses to the people apparently above them.
“I didn’t fucking know it was that bad! I couldn’t see shit!”

Aizawa wants to comfort the kid, but things are starting to make less sense and he thinks he’s slipping into real unconsciousness. How inconvenient.
“You better not fucking die, you bastard. You fucking… bastard.”

Aizawa slips away to the sound of someone crying.

He wakes up to the steady hum of a hospital and the sight of two blonds at his bedside. One, he expects to see. The other is a surprise.
What the hell is Bakugo doing in his hospital room? For that matter, how did he end up in the hospital?

It comes back in pieces as he lies there in silence, listening to the breathing of his friend and student. Hizashi is fine, which is a relief. Bakugo seems to be sporting a head bandage, but otherwise he seems to be fine too, which is an even greater relief.

”Dad! Fucking wake up, you bastard!”

The memory of those desperate words hits him like a freight train, and he blinks helplessly up at the ceiling. Oh. That’s why Bakugo was here.
He was keeping an eye on his dad. Except he had a father, Aizawa had met the man when talking about dorms. Although, Aizawa wasn’t overly fond of Bakugo’s parents and how they apparently handled raising their son.

Fuck it. I might as well replace them. They don’t treat him well enough. Aizawa decides, then and there, that he’s going to be a great dad to Bakugo. Later, he’ll blame the decision on pain and pain medications.
Later, he’ll deny the fact that he gently ran his fingers through Bakugo’s hair to soothe the kid when he started to whimper and grumble in his sleep. Later, he won’t say anything when Bakugo seems to drift closer to him during training and school.

For now, he watches his son get some much needed rest.

Chapter Text

The classroom is eerily silent as he steps into the room. Every student is present and in their seat, but none of them say a word. All of their eyes are locked on him. It makes his skin crawl, so he does what he can not to look at them until he has to. Tries to pretend they aren’t all staring him down like he’s got three heads.
He’s just set his papers down onto the podium when he sees a hand raise. It’s Bakugo. Aizawa considers telling him to wait, but after taking in the look on the kid’s face he decides against it and nods his head to tell the kid to ask away.

“Why the hell did you do that interview?”

The silence that follows the question is so much more constricting than the original silence had been. This new silence sweeps in like a bad omen, sucking every ounce of warmth from the room in one fell swoop. Aizawa feels like every breath he breathes is too loud.
“I’m sorry?”
“The fucking news interview bullshit. Why did you fucking do it?” Aizawa can’t seem to find words this morning. The interview? Why was Bakugo asking about the interview? And why the hell was he so fired up about it?
“What importance does-”
“Don’t dodge the question, old man. Why did you do the interview?” Aizawa would normally punish Bakugo for the disrespect, but he’s too confused to bother.

“I’m not dodging the question. I just don’t see why it’s necessary to discuss this.” Another hand raises. Ashido this time.
“It’s just- well- we all know how much you hate the press, Mr. Aizawa. So to see you doing a big interview like that was kind of weird, y’know?” She speaks in a surprisingly hushed tone, and Aizawa is really starting to hate this situation. When even someone like Ashido is feeling the somber mood, it’s getting bad.
“Just because I don’t like the press doesn’t mean I can’t avoid them forever.” Aizawa points out, and then Midoriya is raising his hand. Aizawa doesn’t understand why they think that’s still necessary at this point in the conversation.
“Sir, it’s just, well, you didn’t have to do that interview. Anyone from UA could have done it. All Might, Present Mic, or even Principal Nedzu. But… you did it. We just want to know why.”

So this is a “we” and not just “Bakugo and his crew.”

“Listen, I don’t know why you all think this is such a big deal, but-”
“It’s about what was said, in the interview.” Jirou blurts her words out before she can seem to stop herself.
“What?” It’s not well put, it’s not eloquent, but Aizawa isn’t following this and “what” is the only thing he can think to ask.
“In the interview, they kept- they blamed you. For everything.” Jirou says it slowly, which she often does when she’s nervous and speaking to him. Which isn’t often. Kaminari picks up after her, sitting forward in his seat.
“Like for the training camp, or the fact we just keep having villain run ins. They blame you for that. Constantly.”
“They’ve always done that.”
“But you didn’t fucking deny it.” Bakugo snaps. “You let them fucking blame you, drag your name through the mud to your fucking face, and you never said a damned thing to defend yourself! You just- you fucking acted like you believed it was your fault we got into fucked up situations!”

Aizawa feels cornered.
He feels even more cornered when Midoriya lets out a soft, “oh,” and Todoroki gives him an understanding frown.
“Mr. Aizawa, you do know that it isn’t your fault, right?” Momo sounds concerned and Aizawa hates that. Why the hell are these kids so worried about him? What did he ever do to deserve them?
“It is my fault.”

The entire class explodes in protest, and Aizawa can only sit in mute shock as they all begin to recall every single point in time in which he’s helped them. From helping with insomnia, depressive episodes, anxiety, and other mental issues, to nearly giving his life in the name of keeping them safe at USJ. They leave no detail unspoken, no event left behind. Tokoyami is very adamant about Aizawa’s assistance on the nights he fears Dark Shadow will take over, Sato reminds Aizawa of every late night grocery run they’ve been on to make sure he has enough for his baking habits. Bakugo shouts over the others about the building collapse, about the aftermath of the training camp, about how hard he fought for them at USJ, about the parenting 101 pamphlets he “sure as hell” didn’t give his mother. Midoriya and Kaminari speak up about Shinsou, Uraraka mentions her extra lessons. Everyone brings up anything good he’s ever done, and Aizawa is willing to admit to tearing up.

He holds up his hand and they fall quiet. He’s surprised and proud with how quick they are about it, how fast they go from riled up shouting and hand motions to settling in or on their desks in moderate silence.
“Thank you,” his voice doesn’t quiver, at all, “for reminding me of the good I’ve done. But it still stands that I have failed you as a guardian and as a teacher on more than one occasion. I am here to protect you. Ever since you moved into the dorms, and even before that, I was handed your lives and told to defend them.”

Aizawa pauses to take in a breath, to take in the sight of teary teenagers before him. These fucking kids…
“You are my kids, and it’s my job to protect you. And-”
“You’ve done that.” Kirishima speaks calmly as he rises from his seat, eyes determined as he moves towards Aizawa. Aizawa blinks at him, trying to figure out when he lost control of his class. Probably when he decided that, yeah, these were his kids. No doubt about it.

Kirishima wraps his arms around him, and for a moment he forgets the ache in his body. He forgets the guilt. The world melts away until it’s just him and his kids.
“We forgive you, for any mistakes you’ve made, and we’re grateful to have you as our dad.”

Aizawa can’t find the words to say as the rest of the class clambers towards him. Suddenly, he finds himself trapped in a mob of sobbing teenagers. He may or may not be crying with them, just a bit.
He’s so damn proud of his kids.

Needless to say, when Mic arrives for English, what he finds waiting for him is Aizawa Shouta and his twenty something kids, all quietly snuggled into one giant group hug. If he takes a few pictures to send to the other teachers, Aizawa never finds out.