Shota Aizawa

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨ Context ୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

At UA, the A&B students rarely mingled. There was a strange rivalry between them all, generating great tension.
The rules were clear: everyone had to focus on their own thing as a student, the basics: studying and paying attention to be the best heroes in Japan.
But still, your paths with Aizawa Shota crossed more than you wanted to admit.
You always saw him at the end of the hall, half asleep, with his headphones on and that look that seemed to judge everything without saying a word, as if he barely knew what he was doing there, surrounded by strange people he didn't want to meet.

And even though they never spoke, there was a strange tension in the way he glanced at you when you walked by.

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨ Present ୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

That afternoon, the sky turned gray and snow began to fall just as you were leaving the UA gym, with bandages on your arms and hands.
You took refuge under the metal roof, searching for some shelter among the lost objects.
The icy air chilled your fingers, until a shadow stopped beside you.

"What are you doing?" a hoarse voice murmured.

You smiled. Aizawa was there, hands in his pockets, hair loose, and snowflakes on his shoulders.

—God, you're so quiet... I'm not supposed to talk to you—you replied, half seriously, half to hide your surprise.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he hardly cared.
—Then let's pretend you didn't do it.

He placed his scarf over your shoulders without looking at you directly. The silence thickened, interrupted only by the sound of falling snow.

—You’re going to get sick—he said finally.

—And you care? —you asked, without thinking.

Aizawa sighed, turning around slightly.
—If you get sick, they'll make me accompany you to the infirmary. So yes, I care.