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Sometimes, Aizawa wondered what it would've been like to have children.

What would they have looked like? Would they be lazy and stubborn like him? Maybe they would've looked up to him like he'd looked up to his father before. Maybe they'd hate him, or want to kill him with a burning passion. Aizawa was fine with that, he just wanted to love someone, and for someone to love him back.

He shook his head to clear the unnecessary thought from his mind. He knew he didn't deserve it, not after what he did. He deserved to rot in hell, just like all the villains. He was a villain for what he did to her.

Aizawa sighed and shakily stood up. The 6th of July was not a good day for him, in fact, it was probably the worst day of the year for him. This year was especially bad, and he felt a suffocating feeling envelop his chest, squeezing all his happiness outside the system. He felt like he was drowning. Drowning and falling to the bottom where no-one would fish him out because he was a terrible, terrible person-

"I-I'm going outside for some fresh air. Iida, you'll be in charge until I get back, understood?"

The boy saluted. "Yes, Mr Aizawa! I won't let you down!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

He turned around to look at them all, his usually apathetic/exhausted face even more sunken than usual.

                                                                  "Behave."

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"I bet you he has porn magazines in there or something, why do you think he keeps it locked all the time?!"

Momo sighed. "He's a teacher, Mineta. He probably has his desk locked because of important documents, or for insufferable people like you who can't stop being impolite for once in your life."

The purple grape-head wailed and headed towards the raven beauty, desperate arms reached out to grab her. "Yaoyorozu! I thought we were friends."

Tsu slapped him round the back of his head with her tongue. "Tough chance, kero. Stop harassing my friends, kero."

She turned her head towards the front of the room, dark green eyes trained onto the desk. "But I have to admit, I am curious, kero. I've often seen him look at something in there, but he refuses to show us, kero."

Deku hummed, "Tsu's not wrong. I've seen him look at it with such longing before. Even after being his student for three years, never have I seen him pull a face like that."

His brown-haired friend furrowed her eyebrows and began to walk towards the desk. "Well, it wouldn't hurt to look for a second, would it? If they're documents about us, we already know almost everything about each other."

She took a small glance towards Deku. "Almost everything."

"Ochaco! how could you say such a thing!" Iida gasped, "As class president, I am going to have to stop you before you get in trouble-"

"Oh, shut up, Engine-legs. It's not like you haven't broken any rules before either."

He went quiet, and Bakugo huffed.

"That's what I thought. Now anyone got any fucking hairpins?"

Aoyama rose his hand and flipped his hair before bringing out several. "Is this enough, Katsuki?"

"Yeah, and don't fucking call me that."

"Well your welcome, it was a pleasure helping you become a criminal-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU INSUFFERABLE EXTRA."

The crimson-eyed male growled and snatched the bobby pin from his classmate's hand before grumbling and shoving it into the keyhole. After a few seconds, the sound of a lock clicking open entered his ears and he smirked.

"There ya go. I'm only opening one though, cos' you fuckheads don't deserve anything else."

"Wow, Bakugo! You're so manly-"

"SHUT UP, FUCKIN EXTRA-"

                                                            "-What is this?"

Deku's startled question brought the whole classes attention towards him. He flushed a bright red and flailed his arms about in panic.

"I-I di-didn't mean i-it in t-t-that wa-way! I g-guess... I'm just confused. Why does M-Mr Aizawa have a whole drawer of p-pa-paintings?"

There was a deep silence. Momo inhaled, her eyes twinkling. "Mr Aizawa likes painting? Can I quickly take a look?"

Deku nodded and handed her the sheet of paper he was holding. It was a stunning picture of a woman around her age. She wasn't facing them so you couldn't see her face, but you could see her spiky midnight locks, and by her side was a whip that was all too familiar to them all. Momo gasped.

"It's beautiful, but why does Mr Aizawa have a painting of Midnight? Are they having a secret romantic rendezvous?"

Todoroki piped in. "Perhaps a secret love child? I wouldn't put it past him."

Deku shook his head. "No, Mr Aizawa didn't paint it. There's a whole draw of them. Look!"

He was right. The whole draw was practically overflowing with colourful watercolour and acrylic paintings of everything. From picnics in the park to dark things ( extremely dark, extremely disturbing ) like massacres and death.

"They're all signed with the same thing at the back. N.S, Perhaps the painter's initials?"

"You're right." By now, Iida had given in to his curiosity and had joined them in searching through the hoard, "They're a very talented artist. Perhaps they could be famous, maybe that's why Mr Aizawa keeps it under tabs 24/7."

"You may be correct," Todoroki said. "I dare say these could be worth millions if shown to the outside world. It's breathtaking in the least. I'm especially fond of this one."

He pointed towards the one he'd lain down on the table earlier on. It was a watercolour portrait of a young girl, approximately sixteen to seventeen years old. She was smiling brightly at the camera, and her warm yellow eyes stared back at them with a look of adoration and devotion. Her long light grey hair hung down her right shoulder like curtains, and frighteningly pale paper-like skin was like porcelain shone through the paper. She was an ethereal beauty, someone you'd expect to see in the movies. The only thing that broke the whole feel of it was the huge tear in the paper, the only thing holding it together was poorly stuck on sellotape. Sero scoffed, though the others ignored him.

"That is a particularly beautiful one, Todoroki. Who is she though? With looks like that, no matter the disability she would've been famous. And why is there a huge tear down it?"

"Perhaps a lo-"

                               "What're you doing?!"

The whole class froze in shock. There was Aizawa, standing at the doorway next to Present Mic, His eyes blazing in poorly disguised fury. Even Hizashi looked distressed, and his face scrunched up even more at the sight of the paintings scattered across the desk. They were utterly screwed.

                                 "Why are you looking through my desk?"

                                                                    "U-Uh-"

                                             "Didn't I tell you to behave?"

                                                                     "Mr A-"

                                 "Why are you looking at her paintings?"

His face crumpled. They weren't meant to see them, no-one was meant to see them. They were his memories, his life, his love. What right did they have to look through them?! His eyes trailed across the mess, his heart slowly falling at the sight of everyone. He remembered them all, the way her eyes twinkled when he brought her her favourite tea, the way her voice broke slightly when she laughed. It was all coming back and he didn't like it. He wanted it to all just stop. Why couldn't it all just-

                                                                       Oh.

There she was. Staring right back at him from the piece of paper he yearned to look at but refused. It looked exactly like her, everything was there. The mole under her left eye, the small sewing scar she had on her right thumb, her eyes-

But he knew it wasn't her. It was his fault she was the way she is now.

                                                           "I-I need to go."

                                                                   "Shota-"

                                                      "I need to go. Now."

He snapped up the paper and quickly raced outside the classroom, slamming the door behind him. It wasn't easy running through the school halls without screaming in frustration or pain, and it wasn't any easier when he finally reached the school boundary. He wanted to stop himself, but he wasn't strong enough. He'd held it in for years and now it was time to let it all out.

                                             And then, Shota Aizawa cried.

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"Is Mr Aizawa gonna be okay, Present Mic?" Mina asked, pouting guiltily. 

The man sighed, his usual upbeat tone was gone and replaced with one of sheer exhaustion. This wasn't the greatest day to be caught looking through Shota's desk. They could've picked any day, yet they picked this one. It's the luck of the draw he guessed.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. This happens every year, it's your final year at this school, so don't worry 'bout getting used to it."

Ochaco cocked her head in curiosity. "Is it okay if I ask why? U-Unless it's an uncomfortable topic, then we can just leave it here and go on with class."

She hit the nail on the head. This was an incredibly uncomfortable topic for almost all the teachers at UA. But Hizashi needed to vent, it wasn't fair if Shota got to but he couldn't. It'd been over 10 years and keeping it all bottled up for so long was taking a toll on his mind- on everyone's mind.

"These paintings were made by a Support Course student we were friends with at school- well, I and a couple of others were. Shota... they were closer than that. She was the most amazing person you'd ever meet. Don't get me wrong, she was the biggest idiot when it came to studying-" he chuckled at the memory. "-God knows how she passed the entrance exam, but she was the kindest person you'd ever meet. An Art Prodigy, too. Perhaps a little too sacrificial." He frowned.

The class was quiet. Iida cleared his throat, "And where is she now?"

"She... 

                                                                         ...she's not with us anymore."

The boy frowned. The whole class were shellshocked. Aizawa... what did they know about him? They'd never even bothered to ask, and this was what he'd been carrying the whole time? This time, Kirishima spoke. His voice quiet and trembling.

"What... was her name?"

Hizashi gulped down a thick glob of saliva. This was it, he dared to say her name, yet he could barely speak as it is.

"Her name was Nobara Sakura, and we first met on a cold autumn morning."

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                                    Huh, that was... interesting to write.

Please tell me what you thought, I'm not sure if I'll continue it. We'll have to see I guess.

                                                                 - Jemma

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