ShinZawa Teasers~✨ From The Drafts
**Warnings and Tags: Omegaverse AU, No Quirks AU, Smoking, Underage, High School, Forbidden Relationship, Alpha Aizawa, Omega Shinsou, bits and pieces of partially understood Japanese culture, Dystopian Elements, mentions of Teen Pregnancy, and mature language
Summary: Hitoshi is an undergraduate keisei--essentially a highly trained homemaker from birth--fixated on one specific alphan teacher from the regular classes next door. Shouta is just trying to get through this school year without getting fired.
Word Count: 2,485
Additionally: partial drafts may not be representative of a final product, may not ever become a final product, and may not be used as templates for other content without permission, including uses in AI training or replication
“You know I could never afford you,” Shouta had mentioned that once before in a different but equally rare moment of vulnerability—of honesty.
It didn’t take a genius to guess a Shinsou keisei was so far out of a teacher’s salary that even the daydream of it was comedic.
Hitoshi leaned in, pushing more of his weight onto Shouta to be supported without complaint. Deft fingers dug in and massaged the muscle they’d been resting on. The simmering whisper warmed the very air around them. “There are ways to lower a keisei’s value.”
Shouta stopped his eyes at the slender hand on his arm, not ready to see the omega’s expression or pretty lips. Reality was, Hitoshi had broken Shouta down over the last year and some.
All the talk of children… had Hitoshi always planned it to be this way?
He knew. They both knew.
Shouta was losing.
The droning dismissal bell bleated through the halls, and Shouta was happy to abide by it with a careless hand-wave and an ambivalent “alright, get out” at his congregation of students. Iida was right at the door, then, pushing it open and policing his classmates as they filed out. Shouta continued to gather his things at his own pace, fishing his cigarettes out of his sleeping bag, kept in there to prevent any potential crushing that could occur throughout the day, and stuffing them into his pocket. From the hallway, he heard Kaminari’s voice and immediately recognized the start of a ruckus. He sighed.
“Well, hello there! What’s a beauty like you doing all the way over here?”
“Move it, shit-for-brains!” Bakugou shoved the other blond out of the way and kept going.
“Bakugou-kun, no pushing!” Iida scolded loudly.
A distant “shut it!” was shouted back.
There was a soft reply in the middle of all that somewhere that had Shouta’s ears perking despite not being able to hear what was said.
He could hear Kaminari just fine, though.
“I’m sure your alpha won’t mind if you and I spend some time together, right? Maybe I could be your alpha instead? What do you say?”
Shit.
Shouta took a stabilizing breath before dutifully marching out there to handle it.
Sero and Kirishima were loitering off to the side, sharing the space but not together with Asui and Uraraka, who seemed curious by what should’ve been a trainwreck rejection. On the other side was Kaminari, leaning boldly on the wall beside a taller yet fairer figure.
Drowsy almond eyes blinked in bewilderment at the young alpha, the violet pools of them alight and pretty like jewels under the bright, unforgiving lights, and purple hair bound neatly into a high bun. A large clip further contained what Shouta knew was a wild mane, holding the shorter pieces at the front down towards the bun, its cute ronghua flowers like white and purple petunias complimenting the glossy bed of hair. The omega wasn’t part of their class, wasn’t even in the same building as them, instead wearing the proper green and white dual-colored kimono and large, padded happi of the keisei course a short walk across campus—padded to embolden their silhouette and conceal any remaining curvature as keiseis were not sex objects to be ogled. UA hosted runover keiseis from a few different academies, but mostly from Tokyo’s Mizuage Academy. UA was considered the only other institution that could uphold their standards and values for their precious trainees.
Some schools sent UA their worst-performers, but not Mizuage. Mizuage viewed the lower-ranking students as desperately needing their firmer hand for guidance, so when the new trainees came in and their dorms overflowed, they sent their highest achievers to UA with full faith they would continue to be the shining pearls of the country everyone expected them to be. As such, the happis represented each school differently, always green for UA but split-dyed with the colors for the keiseis’ parent school. Each happi was also hand-embroidered with the correct school emblems and mandated designs correlating with each institution, done by the keiseis themselves as a means of further showing off their talents and diligence. Mizuage’s took the green and added their indigo blue as an ombre at the bottom, the perfect gold embroidery being simple but elegant as it crept up from the hem and spread out over the puffy shoulders like war honors. The haori himo was also blue with a silver buckle, tied into a carnation and pushed into position at the small of the back.
Hitoshi had already freed his arms from the fabric, leaving it lay like an open flower around his waist. He lit up when he saw Shouta.
As if Kaminari were suddenly invisible, the omega swerved around him and stood happily before the disgruntled teacher. He held up his mismatched sleeves, and within them the vibrant UA red lining of the kimono could be clearly seen, and presented a plastic bag with four thick slices of what looked to be sourdough bread.
“We made bread today,” Hitoshi shook the bag excitedly before holding out to Shouta’s chest with both dainty hands.It was mostly a reflex that had the older alpha reaching up to catch it. Hitoshi let it go before he could think to push the gift away in front of his students—in front of the cameras.
“Sensei…!” Kaminari sounded borderline affronted. Unfortunately, not for the right reasons. “Come on! You had your chances with high school omegas when you were our age! You should be leaving them for us!”
Shouta absolutely did not have the energy to deal with him at the moment, settling a disappointed, maybe a little disgusted, glare on the second-year and stepped aside. Hitoshi followed.
“What are you doing here?” Shouta sighed at him.
“It’s Friday; the keiseis are out early,” Hitoshi merely smiled.
“And why are you here?” He’d never shown up at Shouta’s classroom before now.
He guided Hitoshi down the hall, away from the whispering of the other students, towards the stairwell.
“I told you,” Hitoshi seemed too proud of himself, like he’d successfully marked his territory. “We made bread.”
Shouta held the rooftop door open for the omega. “I doubt this is the first time you’ve ever made bread.”
The keiseis had a dedicated cooking and baking class, no blanket home economics. Each topic was its own extensive course.
“But I made it for you,” Hitoshi purred, pivoting to walk backwards towards the chainlink fence.
“It could’ve waited,” Shouta had long since given up fully discouraging Hitoshi. The omega usually showed up in the teacher’s lounge, keeping the embarrassment isolated to his colleagues. This was different. Shouta should’ve crushed it.
Hitoshi didn’t make it all the way to the fence, surprising the older alpha by rocking forward again. Those undeniably talented hands rested over his pecs as the omega’s lithe frame pressed into him. Down his nose, he watched with a forceful stoicism as the wine-dark lashes batted at him around sultry, glittering amethysts. Tantalizingly close, Hitoshi’s breath fanned across his lips. “So you can taste all the good food I can make for our children.”
Shouta only hesitated for a second when the omega’s hands started to drift towards his shoulders.
Just a second…
Maybe two.
He skirted around Hitoshi’s advance, taking what should’ve been the omega’s spot with his back against the fence as he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter. The sense of brushing off Hitoshi’s evident goals only half-formed and got lodged in his throat anyway. It was clear the omega had taken all the troubling nonsense to heart about how the best time to have kids was as soon as possible. Too many people considered the body as an indicator of not just sexual maturity, but sexual capability as well. An omega that was old enough for heat was old enough to breed. But Shouta knew better just from looking around. Those as young as eight had been known to go into heat, yet their bodies were still narrow and immature. It was not tiny bodies making tiny babies—it was tiny bodies incapable of birthing normal-sized infants. Shouta knew better.
Yet, it was increasingly difficult to deny the long, graceful shape of Hitoshi’s body beneath the stifling robes. At nearly sixteen, the omega likely wasn’t growing much more. The struggle to remember Hitoshi’s age was further compounded by the way he carried himself. Hitoshi did not act like Shouta’s students. He didn’t talk like them. He didn’t walk like them. He didn’t think like them. Everything about Hitoshi was designed to manipulate an air of adulthood. He simply didn’t act like a teenager.
He acted like a keisei.
Hitoshi was a tayuu, orphaned at birth and scooped up by the Keisei Academy Network and delegated as either part of the Shinsou or Kamuro “lineage.” He’d been brought up for one sole purpose and knew nothing about thinking any other way.
He knew well what an alpha Shouta’s age wanted.
It wasn’t a child—not like that.
Although a couple children were still thoughtful prospects, which the omega read off Shouta like a book. Perhaps these things were related. He’d listened to Hitoshi discuss his parenting and maternity classes here or there, and now wondered if the topics hadn’t been feelers sent out to gauge the alpha’s reactions. Older parents offered less optimal genes to offspring. Shouta wasn’t as old as he often acted, but he was probably pushing the “acceptable” limits.
“Wouldn’t I have to stop smoking?” The defense was weak as he knocked a cigarette loose. “Doesn’t it affect the quality or something?”
Obviously, he had been listening.
As he moved to raise the roll of tobacco to his lips, the mere act of lifting his arms created an opening Hitoshi took to slip in, snaking an arm around Shouta’s back and gently laying a soft hand on his bicep. No move was made to intercept or interrupt. “I won’t force you.”
Shouta paused like he’d been tugged on anyway, feeling the omega’s body heat against his side.
Quietly, Hitoshi added, “I’ll just be extra good.”
He refused the luxury of seeing the gentle, alluring look on Hitoshi’s pretty face, instead eyeing the spongey filter of the cigarette like it was oh-so interesting.
He didn’t light it.
“You know I could never afford you,” Shouta had mentioned that once before in a different but equally rare moment of vulnerability—of honesty.
It didn’t take a genius to guess a Shinsou keisei was so far out of a teacher’s salary that even the daydream of it was comedic.
Hitoshi leaned in, pushing more of his weight onto Shouta to be supported without complaint. Deft fingers dug in and massaged the muscle they’d been resting on. The simmering whisper warmed the very air around them. “There are ways to lower a keisei’s value.”
Shouta stopped his eyes at the slender hand on his arm, not ready to see the omega’s expression or pretty lips. Reality was, Hitoshi had broken Shouta down over the last year and some.
All the talk of children… had Hitoshi always planned it to be this way?
He knew. They both knew.
Shouta was losing.
And a teen pregnancy would make Hitoshi worthless.
Less than the defilement of purity, it would show corruption of the mind and soul. An omega that had strayed from the path of grace and morals. Degeneracy. A pearl defaced. Low quality.
Shouta would be blamed, surely.
He nearly shook himself. Of course he would—he should be.
“I’d lose my job…” he uttered weakly.
The omega’s cheek came to rest on his shoulder and, for a moment, Hitoshi just held him. It wasn’t enough to prepare him for what those angel-sweet lips would say next. “I didn’t mean you had to be involved.”
Blood rushed through Shouta’s ears. The lighter clattered on the ground along with his cigarettes as he grabbed Hitoshi by the arm and swung the boy behind him into the fence. Hitoshi was staring up into his eyes, shocked but not afraid, not even while Shouta growled like a territorial animal. Their faces were close, Shouta towering over the younger omega like a real predator. At first, he couldn’t untangle the web of feral nonsense in his head to even apologize for being so aggressive.
Hitoshi’s face softened, gemstone eyes melting with something forlorn as he reached up to caress the alpha’s unshaven jaw. “I want you to be my alpha…!”
Shouta could hardly control himself. He had a tight grip—too tight—on Hitoshi’s, thankfully padded by the happi, hips and he shook him like the snarl tearing up his voice. “I want to be your alpha…!”
A meek little chirp whimpered through Shouta’s ears.
An answering chuff burst up from his chest without an ounce of control and he nearly lost to the urge to kiss and claim his omega, but managed to divert to merely pressing their heads together. Hitoshi was quick to dissolve in his arms, submitting like a ragdoll to whatever the alpha wished. His shortened breaths teased Shouta’s lips, making his next move all the more painful.
He ripped himself away before the omega got the bright idea to close the gap himself.
“We’ll discuss lowering your value after you graduate–” as he went to turn around, his wrist was promptly caught.
There was a tense silence where neither moved, but slowly, Shouta turned back around to face what was surely his ruin. Hitoshi, for once, looked so young and unsure, mouth opening but it took a few attempts to get anything out. He shook his head, “you know why that won’t work…”
Once adults, the keiseis had a little more freedom. While still expected of them to remain “faithful,” in some sense, to their future family, it was less embarrassing to the school if an adult became pregnant out of wedlock. Some tayuu were created that way, taken in when the keisei’s eventual match didn’t want to be responsible for some bastard child or thrown away entirely if the keisei didn’t end up getting what they wanted. The price cut for single-parents wasn’t nearly as steep, and it certainly wouldn’t make a notable difference to a Shinsou’s compared to a teacher’s salary.
He knew.
They both knew.
A Shinsou or a Kamuro were meant for the wealthy elite, to be pampered trophies of the upper class. That was Hitoshi’s fate. Stuck with a low-bred high school teacher was nowhere for him to be.
It wasn’t.
He was throwing his life away.
Shouta shouldn’t have been wondering what kind of timing and timeframe he’d have to work with to get referenced to a different school before their ruse was discovered but after Hitoshi was already farrowed. He shouldn’t have been gripping the omega’s hand back so hard. He shouldn’t have been picturing that hair unbound and splayed across his pillows every morning for the rest of his life. He shouldn’t have been wondering what kind of nest Hitoshi would build for them or what their children might look like.
Hitoshi was set up to never have to worry about anything—ever again—until the day he died.
If Shouta didn’t let go, if he kept squeezing the omega’s hand, he would be taking that—crushing it.
He couldn’t… he couldn’t–
He only realized Hitoshi had moved when he felt the omega curl an arm around his neck, still holding his hand between them. Slowly, Hitoshi nuzzled into Shouta’s neck, brushing them both with each other’s scents.
He couldn’t stop himself.
He unwound their fingers and reached up to catch the omega’s wrist, sleeve drooping down his arm, and accepted how weak and foul he was, rubbing Hitoshi’s sweet licorice and plum blossom scent through his stubble so it would linger under his nose for the rest of the day.