The court case is proceeding well, and, for that, Aizawa is overwhelmingly grateful. He has been more exhausted than ever throughout the proceedings, spending sleepless nights going over evidence and the day's conversations in his head. Everything inside the court room should be done soon, and the judge is currently set on announcing the verdict on Saturday, which means that Aizawa needs to prepare Bakugou to come in. Today, he will let him know.

Everything that has gone on in the courtroom has found its way to Bakugou's ears, whether it has been through Aizawa, Nezu, or one of the other teachers, but he has, as of yet, not entered the room himself. Aizawa feels like he should put off that day for as long as possible—avoid it, even—but that would help nobody. If anything, the sooner it comes, the better. What Bakugou needs is to finally see those bastards thrown in a cell; Aizawa can see the weariness in the kid's eyes growing deeper and murkier each day they are not officially imprisoned.

Knocking on the kid's dorm-room's door, Aizawa stands in wait, hearing the scuffing of bare feet against the floor inside. The door snaps open quickly, but only until it is wide enough for Aizawa to see Bakugou's head between the ajar door and doorway. He raises an eyebrow at his student but lets the less-than-hospitable welcome go, given the circumstances and the eye-bags Bakugou sports that contrast dramatically with his hair and skin. "I would ask how you are holding up, but I think that would feel a bit redundant for both of us," Aizawa informs the boy, earning back a breathy huff of tired agreement. It is nearing Bakugou's eight-thirty bedtime, Aizawa recalls.

"Well," Aizawa continues in his drawled baritone, "I wanted to make sure you are aware that the convicts for your case are likely going to be sentenced this Saturday."

Bakugou sucks in a breath, holding it for a moment before carefully releasing it. He quietly gasps, "Four days...?" Aizawa nods. "And the bitches're going away for sure, right?"

"As far as I can see, there is no way they are going to be announced innocent. Everything now is just about how harsh their punishments are," Aizawa explains, pacing his words slowly so that Bakugou can adjust to the information.

Thank goodness for that, because Bakugou's mind is going a mile a minute and probably would have skidded over the words and missed them if they were going any faster. To think that just a couple months ago he had thought something like this would be impossible. Now look at him, finally getting his revenge. He knows nothing less than beating up those bastards himself would really satiate him, but this is more than he could have asked for while being realistic (and lawful).

Bakugou nods, letting Aizawa know he understands. "I guess I am coming in, huh?" Aizawa offers a nod back. "Whatever," Bakugou says, averting his eyes towards the inside of his doorway as his nerves accumulate.

Aizawa's eyebrows scrunch slightly in concern, but he does not shift from his sturdy stance, arms at his sides and hands tucked slightly into his pockets. "You do not need to come if you do not want to, Bakugou."

Snapping his head back toward his teacher, Bakugou spats vehemently, "I'm fucking going no matter what any of you asshats say! Never said I wasn't." He huffs, out a breath, familiar scowl back on his face as he tilts his chin downward defiantly.

The corner of Aizawa's lips twitches upward in a small smile hidden behind his capture weapon. There's the Bakugou they have been missing, though he is not often so rude to his teachers. "I was only checking," Aizawa says. "Keep in mind that you always have the option to opt out, kid, even if it's in the middle of the court."

Bakugou rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, and Aizawa nods his farewell. "I will be at court the rest of this week, so you will still have substitute teachers, but I'll come by to explain each day to you myself these coming days."

Bakugou offers a jerky nod, turning away and closing the door in an objectively rude motion, but he cannot seem to care about that at the moment. Either way, he knows Aizawa does not mind it right now, even if the teacher would normally ring him out for it any other time.

Sitting down on his bed, Bakugou stares grimly at his door. He slams down onto his back, the force of his fall sending a small wave through his mattress and duvet. His eyes end up gazing aimlessly at the ceiling as his arms rest spread out at his sides. It's finally happening.... "It's finally fucking happening...."

It is almost too foreign of a thought for Bakugou to really process his own words. He knows it is happening. Really. But...

It's happening?

Really?

Another knock on the door rings through Bakugou's room and chucks him out of his reverie. He rolls his eyes at the idea of Aizawa coming back to throw more details at him. Rolling off the bed, Bakugou makes his way back over to the door with a groan, yanking it open and feeling his eyes widen in surprise before he corrects the expression and scowls. "What're you doing here, Shitty Hair? It's after eight-fucking-pm."

Bakugou's redheaded neighbor abashedly shuffles his feet around and scratches at the back of his head, the tasteless headband circling his temples, as he avoids Bakugou's firm gaze. "I uh..." He flexes his other hand at his side. "I was just coming back from the restroom and heard a little bit of what Aizawa was saying.... I'm happy it's all going well." Oh no, Kirishima's mind supplies him. This is going toward Bakugou's no-no topic of compassion. "Just wanted to let you know and ask if you would help me with the English material tomorrow."

"Fucking fine, dumbass," Bakugou replies, happily avoiding the first topic. "My room tomorrow at five, and then you're helping me," Bakugou sneers at the word "helping" as he emphasizes it, "make dinner. But no touching the damn stove, considering that you were able to fuck up making Snow White's chocolate easy-bake-oven cake. You're on chopping duty."

Kirishima blushes profusely at the offer and nods enthusiastically for an uncomfortably prolonged period of time wherein neither of them speaks.

A bit of pink creeps onto Bakugou's face as his face scrunches up. "Stop fucking nodding! You're giving me a fucking headache from just watching you do that shit!" he rants before slamming the door closed and grumpily stomping over to his bed and flinging himself onto it, flustered. This leaves a dizzy-from-nodding Kirishima with a grin slowly spreading across his face until it nearly reaches his eyes and pains his cheek muscles. Giddily, Kirishima does his best not to skip to his room. He may have had a few manly skips in there somewhere, but there are no witnesses who can attest to it happening.

•••

Aizawa thought he was done for the day. As if. Is he ever done, anymore? Nonetheless, he settles down into his heavenly, comfortable, gorgeously wonderful, fantastic, lovely, precious bed. He reviews the day and his newly acquired information as he pulls his sheets to his face and bundles up. Only four more days until the bastards who attacked his student are in prison, he counts down in his head, and then his eyes snap back open right when they finally close.

A feeling of dread has been creeping up on him all day. Perhaps it is just that he is worried about the case. That would make sense. It is perfectly reasonable for people to worry about things that are going well. It is natural to seek out any potential errors in an equation. Only, Aizawa hopes there are none in this one.

When Aizawa hears a ridiculously loud alarm blaring from his phone and startling him upright in his bed, he curses at whoever developed alarms in the first place. Then the information showing on the front of his phone gives him pause. After all, very few things are given such priority that someone can send him an audible alert—something which, as an undercover hero who often works stealthily, can spell death. Nezu's profile picture appears with the loud sounds and flashing colors his phone booms.

Picking it up swiftly but gingerly, adrenaline building in his body even as his initial panic subsides into a frightening stillness and cold, Aizawa clicks to answer the call.

"Aizawa?" comes Nezu's voice, and Aizawa clenches his jaw with dread at the sound of it. He has heard the principle take on many different tones. This one is the worst he has ever heard the genius utter.... This one is quiet, angry, worried, and terrified all at once.

Aizawa swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yes?" he responds dutifully, if gruffly.

"Their leader, Anzhong, escaped."

————————————————————

😘

Heh

I'm evil, huh?

Sorry it took so long to update! I rly don't have an excuse for taking so long lol I just haven't been feeling like pulling up this fic and writing lately but then I did today and here we r :3

-Angry
Word count: 1515