I very quickly come to one horrifying realization.

Dabi enjoys hurting me.

Aizawa enjoys teaching me.

Those sound like two very different things.

They are not.

Not in practice.

Because Aizawa's version of "teaching" apparently involves finding every weakness I possess, exploiting it mercilessly, and then making me repeat the same drill until I physically cannot get it wrong anymore.

It's educational.

It's effective.

It's absolute hell.

"...Again."

I stare at him.

"Aren't you tired?"

"No."

"Have you considered being tired?"

"No."

"Could you?"

"No."

I sigh dramatically and push myself back onto my feet.

My shirt is sticking to my back from sweat.

My forearms are already developing bruises from where the capture weapon has repeatedly smacked into them because, according to Aizawa, "pain is memorable."

I disagree.

Strongly.

Pain is rude.

He circles around me slowly, hands shoved casually into his pockets.

It shouldn't be intimidating.

He's literally walking.

That's it.

Just walking.

Yet somehow I feel like a rabbit being observed by a very sleepy wolf.

"Your stance."

I glance down automatically.

"...What's wrong with it now?"

"You fixed your balance."

"See? Progress!"

"You compensated by locking your knees."

"...I did?"

"Yes."

"...Huh."

I honestly hadn't noticed.

Aizawa lets out the smallest sigh imaginable.

"You're too focused on the last correction."

I blink.

"What?"

"You overcorrect."

He steps closer, close enough that he can tap my right knee lightly with the toe of his shoe.

It buckles immediately.

I stumble.

Again.

"There."

"...I hate that you keep being right."

"I know."

"...Can you stop?"

"No."

Naturally.

I reset my stance again.

Feet shoulder-width apart.

Knees bent.

Weight centered.

Relax shoulders.

Hands loose.

Don't overthink.

Don't overthink.

Don't—

"You started thinking again."

"...How do you know?!"

"You stopped breathing normally."

I freeze.

"...Seriously?"

He nods once.

"Every time."

I stare at him in disbelief.

"...That's creepy."

"It's observant."

"It's creepy."

"Tch."

He suddenly moves.

No warning.

One second he's standing there.

The next he's inside my guard.

I barely manage to pivot out of the way before his elbow lightly bumps my shoulder.

Lightly.

It still throws me completely off balance.

I hit the mat with an undignified yelp.

"...Ow."

"Again."

"I was literally on the ground for half a second!"

"You had enough rest."

"...You're a monster."

"I've been called worse."

I don't doubt that for a second.

Getting back up feels like climbing a mountain.

My legs are starting to shake now.

Not from fear.

From exhaustion.

Every muscle in my body is screaming at me to stop.

Unfortunately, Aizawa appears completely immune to human concepts like mercy.

He watches me carefully as I stand.

"...Good."

I blink.

"...Good?"

"You're tired."

"...That's the compliment?"

"Yes."

I stare at him.

"I'm confused."

"You learn the wrong lessons when you're comfortable."

That...

Actually makes sense.

I hate that it makes sense.

He notices my expression immediately.

"You understood."

"...Yeah."

"So stop making that face."

"I can't help it."

Apparently.

He motions for me to attack.

"...Wait."

"What."

"You want me to attack you?"

"Yes."

"...Voluntarily?"

"Yes."

"...Have you hit your head?"

His expression remains completely flat.

"Midoriya."

"Right. Sorry."

Not sorry.

I take a slow breath.

Then move.

Dabi always emphasized commitment.

If you're going.

Go.

Half-measures get you hurt.

So I commit.

Step in.

Jab—

Aizawa slips to the side so effortlessly that I almost miss it entirely.

My punch hits nothing.

His hand catches my wrist.

A tiny twist—

My balance disappears.

Suddenly I'm airborne.

"...WAIT—"

I land on my back.

Again.

"...How?!"

"You told me your next move."

"I literally didn't say anything!"

"You did."

I stare up at the ceiling.

"...I hate martial arts."

"You telegraphed with your shoulders."

"...Seriously?"

"Yes."

I groan loudly into the mat.

"Everything gives everything away."

"Exactly."

I rub my face tiredly.

"This is impossible."

"No."

Aizawa folds his arms.

"It's difficult."

"Same thing."

"No."

His answer is immediate.

Calm.

Certain.

"Difficult can be learned."

...

I look at him for a moment.

Then slowly nod.

"...Okay."

That earns the faintest approving hum.

Which, coming from him, is practically enthusiastic applause.

The training continues.

Minutes blur together.

Or maybe hours.

I honestly can't tell anymore.

Sometimes he attacks.

Sometimes I do.

Most of the time I end up on the floor wondering how gravity keeps winning every single encounter.

Then—

Something changes.

Not in me.

In him.

I manage to avoid one sweep.

Redirect another.

Duck under the capture weapon.

I still lose the exchange.

But only barely.

When I scramble backward, breathing hard, I glance up—

And freeze.

"...No."

Aizawa's mouth twitches upward.

Just slightly.

Barely noticeable.

A smirk.

A real one.

Every instinct I possess immediately starts screaming.

"...Nope."

He blinks once.

"What."

"Don't do that."

"...Do what?"

"That."

I point accusingly.

"The face."

His eyebrow rises.

"My face."

"The smile."

"It wasn't a smile."

"It absolutely was!"

"I don't smile."

"I literally just saw it!"

He sighs.

"I was acknowledging improvement."

"...No."

"What."

"That somehow makes it worse."

His eyebrow climbs even higher.

"...Explain."

I take one involuntary step backward.

"I don't know."

"..."

"It's just..."

I gesture vaguely.

"...You smiling gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Aizawa simply looks at me.

"...The what?"

"The heebie-jeebies."

"..."

"It feels wrong."

"..."

"Like seeing a shark smile."

"...Midoriya."

"Or a cat planning tax fraud."

"..."

"Or Nezu laughing."

"...Nezu does laugh."

"Exactly! It's terrifying!"

For one long second, absolutely nothing happens.

Then—

Aizawa's shoulders shake.

Once.

Twice.

A quiet sound escapes him.

Not a sigh.

Not annoyance.

A laugh.

Tiny.

Short.

But unmistakably a laugh.

I stare at him in absolute horror.

"Oh my God."

"What."

"You laugh too?!"

"It happens."

"NO!"

"This is your fault."

"I TAKE IT BACK!"

"You can't."

"I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE ERASERHEAD HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR!"

"Tough."

He actually looks... amused now.

Not openly.

Just enough that the corners of his mouth refuse to flatten completely.

This is wrong.

Fundamentally wrong.

The universe has broken.

"...Nezu infected you, didn't he?"

"Tch."

"I'm serious!"

"Get back into position."

"I refuse."

The capture weapon immediately wraps around my ankle.

"...Never mind, I accept."

He yanks lightly.

I lose my balance for what feels like the hundredth time today.

As I hit the mat again, Aizawa looks down at me with that tiny, almost invisible smirk still threatening to return.

"...Again."

I point dramatically at him from the floor.

"...You're enjoying this."

"...A little."

I gasp.

"Betrayal."

"No."

He turns away, already resetting for the next drill.

"Education."

"...That's just villainy with extra paperwork."

For a split second—

Just a split second—

I'm almost certain I hear him chuckle again.