A SpookyQuirkF!Reader X Aizawa story!
You can ffnd the other parts of this series only my page’s directory here: LINK (all of my stuff is on there, this one should be towards the bottom!)
Summery: You receive a call from Japan’s Former #1 Hero, requesting your help with one of his students.
Yes, your help. And he’s convinced you’re the only person for the task.
Upon taking up the favor, you wind up with the title of ‘Guest Teacher’ at U.A. High. And while trying to help a young Midoriya cope with his ghostly visions of the former holders of One for All you learn what it’s like to live again as you become integrated into the lives of U.A.’s renowned Faculty.
Aizawa’s never looked into the possibility of a domestic life. He’s a creature of habit after all, and things had been going steady for years.
But, as Villains begin attacking the school and targeting his students, things have started to become complicated. His quirk wanes with every use, and since All Might’s retirement was in the rear-view, consistency was no longer reliable.
Stubborn as he may be, he begins to wonder about the propositions his friends often make to him. To relax, take some, live a little.
WARNINGS: BIG SPOILERS!! SFW, possible future adult themes, injury, gore, descriptive gore, spooky/ghostly themes, platonic and romantic relationships. (Also, as a reminder, I am not a scientist and this story does not always follow canon events.) <3
Hizashi's laugh was contagious. His sharp smile and sharper features made any attempt at exempting yourself from this infamous 'Karaoke Night' impossible. Though, you'd put up quite the fight.
Thanks, but I have a lot of lesson planning I need to finish – Hizashi: I can help!
Karaoke isn't really my thing – Hizashi: That's okay, you don't have to sing. Trust me, I'll do enough for ya!
I don't handle alcohol well – Hizashi: Neither does Shouta, but he still comes out with us. C'mon it'll be--
No matter how forgetful one might be during their middle-aged years, you in particular had a penchant for names. The fact that Present Mic had used Aizawa's first name in such a friendly way meant they were close--closer than coworkers, for certain. Especially when remarking on activities that were--unfortunately for you--outside of school grounds.
Yet, knowing the ever-dark-and-gloomy Aizawa was going to be there had piqued your interest. Karaoke was one of Japan's happiest past-times, and imagining his blood-shot, shadowy gaze amidst a crowd of bouncing, singing, loudness... It was laughable.
"…Alright, fine, you win." Your acceptance to his invitation wins a fist thrust into the air, and a loud 'whoop'.
He bid you call him by his first name, and despite the strange introduction from outside the cafeteria that felt like it was so long ago--he'd charmed you instantly. Effortlessly as well. Minutes after though, you two departed and were left to ruminate on the exchange.
Narrowly escaping your extra responsibilities thus far, you did actually have to work on some form of lesson planning. You'd already poured some time into the plans and papers offered by the Principle, but it'd remained in the background while you focused on helping Midoriya.
It'd been almost a week since the incident with Detective Masuda and the battery.
The device remained a mystery. Investigations were being done, you were told. Despite being so involved, you weren't getting answers from anyone. Though, a proper report on how the device worked was promised--by Toshinori, at least--since it interfered so heavily with your quirk.
So, that slipped into the background too.
Maybe next week.. You think tiredly, saddling up at your coffee table with Midoriya's case file. It was certainly much thicker now, laden with notes from the past few evenings.
Upon waiting for Toshinori’s mysterious associates to gather possible names from the past holders of One For All via quirk description, you’d decided to sit in on Midoriya’s physical training under the former Number One’s tutelage. While there weren’t any ghostly results, you learned more about the student. And, by proxy, his friends.
Especially the young and hot headed Bakugou. There was a note added next to his name in your notebook—rival, conflict. Midoriya had few negative details to share, but his expressions and off-put comments were telling. You mentioned this to Toshinori as well, insisting that any further intense interactions should be closely monitored in case one of the past users were to reveal themselves by feeding off of Midoriya’s emotions.
Turning the pages, and despite the nagging of responsibility, your subconscious mind reminds you: karaoke night.
In Downtown Musutafu, no less. The oldest and most populated area, likely fraught with ghosts–and you had accepted an invitation to go there. Willingly.
As though summoned by your thoughts of the deceased, Detective Masuda’s voice echoes in the space around you. After locating his floating visage near the door, you turn to him smiling.
“No, no. I was just thinking. How are you doing?”
“Much better now,” He replies, drifting further into the room and lingering over the coffee table. “I talked to the others. Everyone’s been warned. Ever learn what that thing is?”
You shake your head, clicking your tongue. “Nope. Still waiting to hear something. I’m being kept in the dark for now, due to the school’s recent security overhaul.”
His head tilts, bushy brows furrow. The poor detective only knew as much as you told him.
“The school was attacked by villains. And the students were the targets.” You explain further.
There’s a look of horror that crosses his face. “The children?”
Before that moment, due to the recent investigation and your own sudden and strangely active social life, you hadn’t give much thought to the incident. Yet, as though Masuda’s horror bridged into your own emotions, it seemed more relevant. More alarming then before.
You needed to know more.
---
The next morning:
“She said YES!” Hizashi exclaims, palms pressed together at his collarbone, big toothy smile.
Aizawa barely glances at him. “Congratulations.” He says, flatly.
Outside, the morning stillness graduated to students as they rose and left their dorms. No longer in their gray uniforms, they made beelines for the exits in groups and cars awaited some of them outside the gates. A much needed reprieve from studies and hard work.
Typically, on a morning such as this, Aizawa would still be asleep. The two days a week he could enjoy getting a decent eight hours of rest.. But the Principle had other plans. A meeting was called for the faculty, and Hizashi had roused him with a phone call that promised coffee and ‘news’.
That news being, that the Guest Teacher had accepted his invitation to Karaoke Night.
Hizashi grabs his friend’s arm and pulls him in at the shoulder, the other hand thrust out towards the distance. “Isn’t this exciting? New blood, new tunes, new everything!”
Aizawa limply obeys whatever motions Hizashi sweeps him into, using the leftovers of his energy to expertly keep his coffee from spilling. “New problems..” He grumbles.
Glaring at him through his sunglasses, Hizashi pouts. “You don’t actually think that…” He pokes his shoulder for emphasis. “C’mon, you gotta admit, this is a good idea. She knows All Might, better than any of us do. She’s–” He makes another dramatic hand gesture–”Mysterious. And, most importantly, she’s–”
Aizawa elbows him hard, stopping the blonde mid-breath and causing him to crumple over. Ahead on the path, Toshinori and Vlad approached them.
Before they were in earshot, Hizashi mouths the word–the name–’Shirakumo’ to Aizawa with an arched eyebrow, hinting at the sentence he’d meant to deliver.
Ah, yes. Admittedly, he yearned to ask the questions his friend referred to–but approaching a near stranger about something so personal was… out of the question. He would need to trust you before divulging that kind of information. Friend to All Might or not, you were (as Hizashi noted) a mysterious character.
“Animated as usual,” Vlad remarks towards Hizashi–Present Mic, seeing as they were working for the time being. “Good morning.”
He salutes with a confident nod, while everyone else exchanges morning greetings.
As the four of them make their way towards the Faculty board room, Aizawa and Toshinori fall in step, a little behind the other two.
“It seems your friend is growing in popularity.” Aizawa drones, giving the older man a side-glance.
“Oh?” Toshinori smiles at that.
“Hizashi invited her to Karaoke Night.”
“Oh.” Toshinori frowns at that.
“...Is there a problem?” Aizawa asks, curious.
The retired Hero shakes his head, “It’s–no it’s not a problem. But.. that part of the city is older, isn’t it?”
It’s Aizawa’s turn to frown, thankfully hidden beneath his capture weapon. He doesn’t have to respond, it’s a well known area.
“Places like that are pretty ‘active’.”
“You mean.. Her quirk..?”
The nod Toshinori offers accompanies a grave expression.
Too soon, they gather at the door and enter the complex. When everyone reaches the board room, they go quiet. Principle Nezu sat on his elevated seat, paws neatly folded together and elbows pressed into the long table with just enough room for everyone present.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” he begins, bypassing his regular formalities and greetings. “I wish to make this quick and painless. No doubt, everyone has been informed about the police presence earlier this week, and the events leading up to it.”
A rumble of quiet recognition chases his voice, as gazes land on Toshinori and Aizawa. One gives a faint nod, the other’s chin seems to further delve into the folds of his capture weapon.
“The gadget retrieved from the retired Urban Underground Training Facility, or U.U.T.F, has been relocated to a government research facility that I cannot disclose. What I can disclose is that this item appears to have no relation to the villains currently on our radar.”
Relief floods the expressions of the faculty. Shoulders and jaws visibly relax, Snipe pushes his hat out of his view, Midnight allows her legs to cross, Vlad unclenches his fists.
“However. The item lacks any registration with our Hero Equipment Department, and does not appear to be useful for any student or teacher that coincides with the item’s time of creation. This supports the theory that it comes from outside of school grounds, and their aim is to determine whether it was placed there during the time U.U.T.F was in operation, or after.”
Nezu typically lacked expression when it came to his facial features. Perhaps because there were muscles in the human face that didn’t exist in that of a mutated animal’s. Yet, even the farthest seat from him could discern a sense of frustration at his next few words.
“We have been vigilant and responsive in regards to this investigation, but as of this board meeting, this matter is now beyond the means of the school and its faculty. I have been assured that if further results lend to the safety of the school that we will be notified immediately, but all further involvement has been halted. The U.U.T.F. will be demolished, and the area surrounding will have new camera moderation. Other retired areas are also being searched and remodeled for surveillance…”
Nezu continued his speech, but everything had already been said as far as the Heroes were concerned.
The Japanese Government was now involved, and whatever the gadget had been, it was more important than just a discarded piece of equipment.
What exactly does one wear to ‘Karaoke Night’?
You hadn’t packed any of your ‘fun night out’ clothes. That you didn’t have.
When was the last time you had a ‘fun night out’? Seldom did you ever text or call friends from your past, similarly to how you hadn’t spoken with Toshinori in the longest time before he requested your help. Their lives were busy, but yours?
Let’s not think about that right now, you determine inwardly, still rifling through your suitcase.
In the end, the outfit of the night was irrelevant. You were going to use this event as an opportunity to pull some information out of that old grump Aizawa, and you knew that even the most flattering dress wasn’t going to impress him.
Well, you didn’t know that, but you had a hunch.
So, standard everyday wear it is. Maybe, pull the neck a bit.. There. Marginally more feminine than it was before.
You look at your reflection and practice a smile.
It was optimistic of you to pretend you were a normal person going on a normal night out. There’s nothing normal about your life. Not only because you were going to see a bunch of corpse-laden gore tonight, but because you were going to karaoke with some of Japan’s most notorious heroes. Practically celebrities.
Though, perhaps it was being All Might’s friend that was the catalyst to your unaffected disposition. Fame meant little to those who were heroes for the right reasons; more a tool than anything else. Scare wrong-doers, inspire right-doers.
You wondered; what kind of hero was Aizawa? You knew his Hero ego, some light details of his exploits, he worked mostly at night and never did anything flashy–but was he doing it for the right reasons? (So many questions tonight..)
A text comes through on your phone, and it buzzes against the veneer of the sink. As if hearing your thoughts from his side of the dorm building, it was Aizawa, mentioning a taxi would be there around six o’clock and he was slotted to be your escort because Hizashi and Midnight left early for reservations.
Toshinori’s revelation about your quirk had the dark-clad underground hero contemplating why you would agree to the outing. To blend in? To seem more appealing?
Had he told you about Hizashi already being aware of your quirk, would you have felt less pressured? Were you pressured?
…Who was he kidding. This was Hizashi Yamada. Of course you had been pressured.
It’s not my business. He thinks, pocketing his wallet and searching the counter for something else to concentrate on. She’s lived with that quirk long enough to take care of herself.
His mind wanders back to your stunt at the U.U.T.F., climbing a precarious tree, only to fall upon sight of him. It makes the corner of his lips twitch. Surely, if he weren’t waiting for you there on the roof, you wouldn’t have been startled. You might have made it up and down the tree without a scratch. Still, the look on your face was something he returned to often. Surprised. A little scared. Mischievous, even.
It reminded him of younger days.
But he puts that thought away quickly. It was unprofessional.
“Time to go,” He mutters, and surprisingly, he doesn’t drag his feet all the way to the door.
Unprofessional though it may be to think of you in any capacity, he would at the very least ensure you were comfortable tonight–it was like a mission. Somehow, it made the idea of Karaoke night… more bearable.
“I heard you do this kind of thing often.” You say, just a little smug.
Aizawa, staring out the taxi window, simply grunts as a response. Your chest tightens with disappointment.
“...Do they have a signature drink? I don’t know anything about the menu so–”
“No signature drinks. Highballs, beer, the regular karaoke bar fair.” He says, repositioning the hand that had been under his chin. He sits forward now, jaw set, brows lowered.
A tense moment of silence. As you take a breath in–
“Why did you agree to come?”
“--What?” You ask, startled by his question.
“I don’t have the energy to beat around the bush, so I’ll be plain.” He looks over at you, and while his expression is unreadable, there’s a disquieting amount of force being pressed between his lips.
“Your quirk. Doesn’t being in such a historical and populated area make you uncomfortable?”
“...I can handle myself.” You say, suddenly brazen. Suddenly stubborn, too.
“I’m not insinuating that you can’t. I just want to know why you agreed to come. Hizashi means well, but if he’d known more about your quirk, he wouldn’t have pressured you. Or, he would have made accommodations.”
“I’m not going to ask a pro-hero for ‘accommodations’, and I agreed to come because I wanted to.” You say, and although you sound level-headed, your arms cross protectively across your torso. The fact he said ‘more about your quirk’ doesn’t escape you either.
“...He was being nice. And I can’t–” You shrug, finding better words to describe how you’re feeling. “I can’t keep running away from things that make me uncomfortable.”
Aizawa’s eyes find you for the first time that night. While yours are trained on the passing streetlamps, his attention lingers on the form of your cheek. The angle of your nose, the fingers digging into your own arm.
“I see.” He says, “well, I’m sure he’ll do everything he can to make sure you have a good time.”
He, Aizawa says, knowing full well you were his charge tonight.
The rest of the taxi ride had gone on in relative silence. As a hero would, Aizawa did spend a few minutes explaining how to get to the location once you were dropped off. Maybe, he was doing it out of habit–no he definitely was. The idea that he might be doing it to ease your anxiety was wishful thinking. At best.
You’d done a pretty good job of ignoring everything directly outside of the vehicle. Keeping your gaze angled up, you could watch the sign displays and catch glimpses of a night sky without hindrance.
But that came to an end as the vehicle rolled to a stop.
“Here we are.” The taxi driver calls out.
Impulsively, you close your eyes as your hand reaches for the door handle. When they reopen, you study the floor as you pull the latch. Distantly, you could hear the opposite door opening and closing–footsteps fast approaching once you breach the outside.
And the sight is dazzling.
‘Downtown’ Musutafu consisted of many alley-ways jutting off from a main thoroughfare, lit like daylight by signs, lanterns, and a litany of screens for advertisements. The buildings themselves were older and run down in a chic kind of way, with theme appropriate shops and entertainment venues. It was nostalgia weaponized, and man, was it working.
It felt like the world was… oversaturated. Colorful. Wonderful.
And after a moment of awe, finally it dawns on you–you can’t see any dead people.
“What–” You begin incredulously, but the answer standing beside you gently rests a hand on your forearm. Aizawa pulls you forward, out of your stupor, and away from the taxi that needs to get back to its route.
When you look at him, finally, his irises are locked on you and glowing crimson. His hair lifts, like he’s floating in a pool of water.
“I figured you might like to see it this way first.” He says.
Despite the allure of the imagery ahead, you just stare at him. A weight you’ve never been able to name had been effortlessly lifted off of your shoulders; gravity itself felt different.
“I’m going to have to blink soon, so, let’s get going.” He says, gesturing forward.
You swallow, turn, and start walking. Strangely, while you’re busy drinking in the world like a child in a toystore, you do happen to notice that his hand hasn’t left your arm.
“Sorry–” He starts abashedly, likely having read your suspicious glance. “In order for this to work, I have to keep looking at you. My peripheral vision is practiced, but people in crowds are a bit unpredictable.”
Ah. He needs you to guide him.
That’s why he gave you instructions.
“Look!” You exclaim, pointing toward something Aizawa couldn’t see. Despite the urge, he doesn’t obey.
“That looks really good–I might have to come back and try it. And those!” You continue to point things out excitedly, naturally slowing down as you filtered into the crowd on the sidewalk.
Aizawa smiles to himself.
Every passing expression, every nuance of your excitement; he witnessed. The sting of the air barely registered. He didn’t dare to blink.
He almost wished that Toshinori had come as well, so he could see you like this. Rumor had it, though, that he’d been pulled away from school grounds that evening. Likely due to investigations. Never a break, even for a retired hero.
Now, as you both approached the entrance conveniently highlighted by a large and flickering yellow arrow, Aizawa silently steeled himself. Not only because he would have some serious dry-eye by the end of the night, but also–he’d need to contend with whatever strange plans Hizashi had in store for you both. There was little doubt that his loud and aggravatingly forward friend was bound to ask some personal, probing questions.
