Chapter Text
“You want me to what now?” Aizawa Shouta, the underground pro-hero Eraserhead, asks his boss, Nedzu. He knew this day was going too smoothly. He even got an extra hour of sleep and Hizashi got more of his favorite jelly packs. While Shouta expelled most of his first year class, he still taught Ethics and helped out with the Hero course training. Even that wasn’t going too badly though.
He should have known that things were going far too smoothly for him. His life, especially since joining as a teacher at UA, loves to throw so many twists and turns that it can, at times, feel like a high-speed roller coaster.
The chimerical principal merely smiles and takes a sip of his tea.
“Go undercover as a student in a junior high.”
Ah.
He did hear Nedzu correctly then.
Shouta honestly thought that he ascended to another plane of existence from sheer force of exhaustion. He didn’t even feel that tired today either. Still, one could always dream, right?
It wasn’t the first time that Shouta was asked to go undercover whether through his own work in underground heroics or by the principal. But as a junior high student?
He feels like he needs to point out that he couldn’t pass as a twelve- to fifteen-year-old. He’s certain that Nedzu had something planned out for him to be able to be a junior high student. He puts nothing past the principal.
However, Shouta will make this process as difficult as possible.
Is he petty? Yes.
“I’m twenty-eight, a pro-hero, a teacher, and don’t look like a junior high student,” Shouta points out because it needs to be said. “I cannot pass as a junior high student. What the hell? This isn’t an American pre-quirk teen drama.”
Nedzu smiles at him from over his teacup.
“All easily remedied! This will count as an undercover case for you. You expelled most of your homeroom and we can arrange a long-term replacement for your Ethics class. And, thanks to a quirk from a former student, we can temporarily revert your body to the age of a thirteen-year-old for your duration undercover!”
Dammit. He knows Nedzu’s quirk allows him to literally think of everything. Sometimes, however, Shouta wishes that it didn’t allow him to literally think of everything.
“I’m not saying yes,” Shouta says slowly, carefully. He has to admit, to himself, that he’s intrigued. “But what’s the case.”
Nedzu smiles like he won.
And dammit, he probably has.
“A first-year student in our Support Department, Akatani Mikumo, came to me with concerns over his former junior high, Aldera. Akatani-kun spent two and a half years at the school but had to transfer out halfway through his third year to complete his schooling elsewhere. He says that he was essentially forced out of the place.”
It’s definitely odd for a student to transfer out so late in the final year of middle school. Though the phrase “forced out of the place” sends a shiver down Shouta’s spine. He thinks of his own elementary and middle school years, how he was harassed and bullied for his quirk. The reasons for the bullying vacillated between it being weak or it being villainous. It was all, however, fairly cruel.
Either way, he didn’t know that competent and caring teachers existed until he hit UA. And while Shouta wouldn’t call himself warm and fuzzy, when his students have potential, the drive, he definitely gives them the tools they need to succeed as heroes.
“And the reason?” he asks, already knowing some of the answer.
“Akatani-kun is quirkless,” Nedzu says, placing his teacup down. His ever-present half-smile disappears into a contemplative frown. Many see Nedzu as a sadistic human hater, which he is for the majority of adults of the generation that abused him, but he does truly care about children. He does truly want to mold the next generation into being better than the previous. Very few things get him as upset as when he has to deal with educational institutions that don’t do right by their students.
“That’s relatively rare in Japan nowadays. Well…for the younger generation anyway. Even when I was growing up,” Shouta says after a moment.
In comparison to the rest of the world, Japan has a lower-than-average quirkless population with most quirkless individuals being relegated to the older generations. The twenty percent quirkless statistic is a global average with other countries having a larger (and younger) quirkless population in comparison. Either way, quirkless kids in Japan tend to be worse off for it with those who make it to adulthood going abroad or faking an invisible quirk to get through their day-to-day lives. Of course, those are the ones who live long enough to get a happy ending.
Nedzu nods, expression still stormy, “He came to me not for himself, but for another quirkless student at his middle school, Midoriya Izuku. While Akatani-kun was able to move in with his aunt and change schools, Midoriya-kun does not have that option. In fact, from what he said, things are worse for the boy.”
Okay, it still doesn’t explain why Nedzu wants Aizawa to take a dip in the Fountain of Youth.
“And the reason you need me under an age regression quirk versus your normal avenue of investigation?”
“Several of the teachers at Aldera have suspiciously clean records. Some digging into them reveals that, frankly, none of them existed until they appeared at the school. It’s decent work in creating their identities and certifications, but they are forgeries. Their quirks on record are close enough to some recent villain disappearances.”
Fuck. That’s a good reason.
“So what? The Aldera schools are fronts for villain operations?”
“Well, the junior high anyway,” Nedzu says, taking a sip of his tea. “At the very least, it bears looking into things more. A new student is easier to slip in at this point in the year over a new teacher.”
He turns those black beady eyes on Shouta, who knows when he’s beat.
“I want to talk to the kid first.”
The principal’s tail swishes in pleased victory.
“That can most certainly be arranged!”
Akatani Mikumo recently had a growth spurt: all gangly limbs and hollow cheeks from shooting up faster than you can put on weight. He has long messy black curls that fall into his face. There’s a brace around his leg and a forearm crutch that he uses to stabilize himself. He’s in the jumpsuit that Support students spend most of their time in. The top tied with leanly muscled arms showcases scars (burn, electrical, acid, in the shape of handprints and fingertips).
“Nedzu-san said that you wanted to speak with me, Aizawa-sensei?” He doesn’t directly look at Shouta. The one eye visible from his hair flits around the room, noting exits. It hurts Shouta to see a kid feel the need to do such things.
“I do, Akatani,” Shouta gestures at the couch where there are good sightlines. “Take a seat.”
The boy easily makes his way over and settles on the couch.
“Nedzu has told me about the concerns that you brought to him regarding Aldera. We take such things very seriously here as teachers and as pro-heroes. But I’m hoping to hear more from you.”
Akatani blinks at him, an owlish dark eye peering up from behind a curtain of dark hair, like some kind of horror movie character.
“Sure.”
Shouta nods and takes a seat, waiting for the Support Course student to start.
“Kids…were never nice to me, especially when they found out that I was quirkless. Some of the adults would be nice but in the way that, uh, means that they just pity you. Others, though, they’d ignore me or actively encourage the other kids.”
Akatani sighs quietly, face disappearing underneath his hair.
“It got worse at Aldera Junior High though. It’s not…a good school. Frankly, the whole place is kind of a dump. But, I mean, in elementary school teachers were a bit stricter with quirks because that’s the way you learn. And they all thought I was a poor quirkless glass child or something. The junior high teachers? It was like they didn’t care. The quirks that they thought had the best use of getting a kid into a good hero course? They were treated like royalty. Not that anyone made it into one of the really good ones like here, Shiketsu, or Ketsubutsu, you know?”
“And for the quirkless?”
Akatani waves his hands at the crutch, “Why do you think my dad and mom pulled me out in the middle of my last year there? It was bad. The teachers accused me of cheating when I aced a test or beat a quirked kid in sprints or something. Death threats were written on my desk. Spider lilies appeared whenever news came about a suicide, especially when it concerned a quirkless kid.”
Shouta breathes in through his nose sharply at that. Fuck. This is bad.
“And this Midoriya Izuku?”
“Has it worse,” the student says quietly, eye appearing through his hair. “He’s…kind and gentle. The kid with the most powerful quirk in school hates him and people think he’ll get into a hero school like UA. Midoriya loves heroes and quirks. He wants to be one. So did I and then…”
Shouta waits the kid out, letting the silence stretch between them while Akatani gathers his thoughts.
“I was pushed down the stairs,” he says, commenting on it like the weather. “I don’t remember much of those days surrounding it. The doctors think that I’ll never get those memories back. Either way, it was enough to have me move in with my aunt and finish junior high elsewhere. I still have physical therapy. The doctors think that I’ll be able to walk unaided one day, but my hero dreams are pretty much over.”
He says it with a bitter smile on his face. Something harsh and angry flares in Shouta on Akatani’s behalf. He fully believes that every kid who puts in the work should be given the chance to try to get into a hero course, regardless of their quirk status.
“And there was no police investigation?”
“There was an investigation, but I was found to be at fault,” Akatani sighs out. “Like I pushed myself down those stairs. It was amazing I didn’t break my neck. But if the police wouldn’t listen to me, then I figured Nedzu-san would. I just…Izuku deserves better, you know? And so do any other kid like us that passes through those doors. I deserved better when I was there. I know my parents tried to tell his mom to transfer him out, but, well, she can’t for whatever reason. I mean she’s a nice lady but…”
Definitely going to have to look into this Midoriya Izuku’s home life then.
Maybe Nedzu can get him an apartment in their building? This will probably be a deep-cover assignment for sure. Shouta will have to…
Wait.
Fuck.
He’s really going to do this, huh?
“Sensei?”
Shouta snaps his eyes to Akatani, who peers at him in concern.
“Be careful, okay? I mean, I don’t know how this investigation will go for you and Nedzu-san. The teachers, even the ones I got a sketchy vibe from, were just ignorant or bigoted or something. But the principal is a real piece of work.”
People tend to dismiss their instincts nowadays. They brush off that little voice in the back of their head that whispers, “Something is wrong. Be careful. Be wary.” Some of it is due to the effect of a Symbol of Peace, seeing heroes out and about larger than life, thinking that this will never happen to them.
But that instinct, that little tickle in the back of your heard, the churning in your gut, it could save your life. It’s human evolution. It’s an instinctual knowledge when seeing a predator whether animal or all too human. It’s something that should never be ignored.
“I’ll be careful, Akatani,” Shouta promises and the kid nods after a long moment. He takes out a card and presents it to him. “If you want to tell me anything else, then please get in touch. I’ll be undercover for the assignment. After it starts, then tell Nedzu and he’ll get it to me.”
Akatani takes the card and looks it over, “Alright. Thank you, Aizawa-sensei.”
“I accept,” he tells Nedzu, who beams up at him.
“Excellent! I’ll make a call while you get things in order with Yamada over the next couple of days.”
“I have a condition,” he says. Nedzu hums at that, gesturing at him. “Akatani said that his parents told Midoriya’s mother to take him out of Aldera. Since she has not, I just want to make sure his home situation is okay. I’d like an apartment near them.”
“That can be arranged easily enough,” the principal says brightly.
“So, they’re turning my husband into a fetus,” Hizashi says over dinner. Shouta snorts into his rice.
“I’ll be fourteen,” he dryly points out. Shouta was able to convince Nedzu to add a year. He’d still be a second-year middle school student. Hizashi cocks an eyebrow, and Shouta concedes the point. “But essentially, yes. Temporarily anyway.”
“Not the age I’d like to revisit,” his husband says, twirling a chopstick between his fingers. “Nedzu seriously couldn’t get a teaching job arranged?”
Shouta gives Hizashi a Look at that, which pretty much says ‘if there was a way to not get hit with a quirk to regress my age, then I would have done it’. His husband holds his hands up placatingly, a smile twitching on his lips.
“Not without raising suspicion. He’s not wrong with a new student being less suspicious over a new teacher, especially if some are villains with new identities,” he answers, rubbing his eyes. “It’s not really something I’m looking forward to. I hated being fourteen the first time around.”
“Well of course not, Detective Conan,” Hizashi teases. He then frowns, “Poor Akatani though.”
“Know him?”
Hizashi raises an eyebrow, “Support has to take English still. He’s a nice kid. His class is protective of him. I think all of them have crushes on him. It breaks my heart to see him so thrown off about it.”
Well, it’s good to hear that Akatani’s found people who care about him at UA. Not a happy ending, of course, but a better one than he would have gotten otherwise. Shouta’s outgrown the thought about happy endings, but hopefully, Akatani’s class will hold firm around him. The kid needs people in his corner.
“We’ll get him justice,” he promises. “Even if my voice has to crack and I have to deal with junior high again.”
Hizash laughs.
“I give you a week until you attempt to throttle someone.”
“You’re too kind. I don’t think I’ll last a day,” Shouta dryly says, which makes Hizashi crack up. “Also Nemuri? Never finds out about this.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut during your assignment, Sho,” his husband says, eyes glittering. “But I make no promises for after.”
“Unbelievable. Why did I marry you?” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips, reaching for his water.
“For my body obviously,” Hizashi responds without missing a bit. “And spousal privilege for when one of us finally cracks after a bullshit ruling from the HSPC and decides to start a mutiny.”
It’s only due to Shouta’s training and years of honing a face that doesn’t crack that stops him from spitting out his water and choking from laughter.
Once everything calms down, he does turn his tone serious before looking at Hizashi.
“Are you okay with this? I don’t know how long I’ll be undercover for.”
Undercover assignments mean zero communication with anyone outside of Nedzu and possibly the person whose quirk is going to be used on him if it needs to be reapplied. Dead drops and burner phones will be used. Shouta has done a few undercover assignments since coming to UA but those were only a week or two, at best.
But if Aldera is hosting villains, then Shouta may be dealing with this for a while.
“Kids are at stake,” Hizashi says, eyes sharp and voice quiet in a way that it rarely is. He rubs the back of his head where there’s a scar, hidden by his long hair from where a muzzle placed on him by a teacher had bitten into the skin. “You do what you need to do, Shouta. Bastard and I will be waiting for you.”
He takes Hizashi’s free hand in his and runs his thumb over the knuckles.
“Just try and make sure you come home to me,” his husband says seriously, long blonde hair dripping over his shoulder and eyes serious as the grave.
They’re both thinking of blue hair and the sunshine grin, of a boy who never grew up.
“I’ll do my best,” Shouta promises because that’s the only one he can give to his husband.
It doesn’t take long for Shouta to be ready to go into the deep cover assignment. He has Nemuri and Tensei promise to look out for Hizashi and make sure his husband doesn’t worry too much about him. He also sets reminders in his and Hizashi’s shared calendar about Bastard’s yearly physical along with other odds and ends.
He finds a replacement Ethics teacher who can also help out in the Heroics courses. Another underground hero known as Starbright, who’s been recovering from injuries from a recent raid. They are happy to be a visiting pro-hero teacher at UA for an undetermined amount of time while Shouta goes undercover.
There’s also a frankly weird video call with all three of his parents, who are spending time abroad in Africa, to tell them that he’ll be in deep cover and to ask if they remember what size he was when he was in junior high. Uncle Haruto’s scarily accurate memory turns out to be a lifesaver as he texts Nedzu the sizes he’ll need for his time undercover.
Watanabe Haruka is very bubbly and sweet with pink hair the color of cherry blossoms. She’s not annoying about her sweet personality. More like she’s just so full of good cheer that it just spills off of her and into the room as a whole. There are several ways to get licensed for quirk usage in public: heroics, the medical field, some police officers, and filling out very complex paperwork to be able to do so on the job.
Watanabe, a therapist has license for medical usage with her quirk, which she calls Benjamin Button, is sometimes called in to help heroes who need to appear younger than they are.
“I can make the effects last anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of months,” she explains in the pre-arranged meeting place to him while Nedzu watches. It’s mid-morning on a Saturday with the sun shining brightly and Shouta dressed in a robe. “For you, it’ll last for about three months so around twelve weeks. If you need to go under longer, then Nedzu will get in contact with me and arrange for me to reapply my quirk. The benefits here are you’ll retain your knowledge and your skills. The drawbacks are you’ll have to deal with, well, everything else of being a second-year student in middle school. Your emotions are going to feel a bit out of whack. Yay, puberty. And there’s a chance that if you get a huge surge of adrenaline toward the end date of my quirk, then your body will revert to its previous state. So no near-death situations!”
Teenage moodiness, fantastic. And if this assignment is longer than three months, then he’ll need to be careful about anything that gets his heart pumping a bit too much.
“And you’ll be okay?” he asks, unsure of the drawback for her.
“I won’t be able to use my quirk for about a month since this is pushing its upper limits,” Watanabe says with a wave of her hand. “I’ll need a nice big meal and a nap, not necessarily in that order. But there are no ill effects for you or myself. I am told that it feels a bit odd, but it’s not painful. It’s probably uncomfortable if you get that adrenaline growth spurt surge though.”
Shouta rolls his shoulders and nods.
“Alright.”
Watanabe smiles at him as she stands and walks over. Her brown eyes turn bright green, the sort of green you see when grass shoots up from the snow, a sign of life renewed, with the activation of her quirk.
“It works like Recovery Girl’s,” she says. “So forehead or cheek kiss?”
“Forehead,” he says, his go-to for Recovery Girl when he can get away with it.
Watanabe nods, leaning down to where Shouta is sitting, and presses her lips to his forehead for several long seconds.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of regression.
Shouta is still Shouta, of course. He still has all his memories and feelings and the same mind as he did at twenty-eight.
But Watanabe is definitely right.
It’s…odd.
And that’s the only way he can describe being physically twenty-eight one moment and physically fourteen the next.
Either way, it feels easier to leave Aizawa Shouta behind with the slide into being physically fourteen again.
Shouta takes a moment to stare at his clean-shaven face with rounder cheeks. His eyes are dry, but less so. Her flexes his smaller hands, which are covered by his robe. He had forgotten how short he was at this age. The aches and pains from injuries acquired due to the punishing occupation of being a pro hero that not even the strongest healing quirk can entirely chase away.
He rolls his shoulders under the too-big bathrobe he’s wearing now.
He can handle this, he thinks.
“Alright Aizawa,” Nedzu says and it’s odd. Shouta’s still taller than the principal, of course, but the gap is definitely less than it usually is. On a nearby couch, Watanabe sleeps deeply. “I have your paperwork here along with the key to your new apartment. The number that you can reach me out is under the name Edogawa Conan.”
Shouta pauses and raises an eyebrow, “Is that a Detective Conan reference? Hizashi already made it.”
Of course, Nedzu would reference a two-hundred-plus-year-old long-running anime and manga series. Hizashi liked learning about pre-quirk media, but Nedzu? Well, it was a slight surprise. Reflecting on things, Shouta realizes that his situation is rather like it.
Except he’s (hopefully) going back to his correct age at the end of this.
The chimera grins wide like he does when he’s particularly amused by something showing off his sharp teeth. He only does that around people he trusts, like Shouta. “I figured the name would be appropriate given your particular situation for this case. Though I must applaud your knowledge of pre-quirk anime.”
“Oboro and Hizashi liked it,” he says, ignoring the pang of grief in his heart at that. It hurts less than it did. More of when you purposefully poke a scar that likes to act up from time to time. Nedzu’s face softens gently at that.
“Shirakumo was a young man of many varied tastes. Same with Yamada,” he agrees. “Be careful. And if you need to be extracted out the code phrase is ‘Can you send me some matcha pocky, Uncle?’ and we’ll get you out immediately.”
Shouta nods, committing the phrase to memory. He picks up the handle of his suitcase.
“The apartment has already been furnished and stocked with food. We’ll talk in three days at five after midnight. I’ll call you, let the phone ring twice, hang up, and call again,” Nedzu explains, papering over the moment of grief with a familiar tone of business. Despite all the mind games he plays, it’s one of the things that Shouta appreciates about his boss.
“Good luck, Aizawa.”
He meets the beady black eyes of the principal, “Thank you. I’ll talk to you in three days.”
With that, he rolls out his suitcase to the waiting taxi. Stepping out into the sunlight as a teenage boy for the first time in years.
“Let’s begin then,” he mutters.