He's late.

The thought came unbidden, and Aizawa could feel that single thought turning his disinterested expression into a frowning one.

"Mic," he tried not to let his annoyance seep through, even though would probably know anyway. "Which one is the next match?"

Mic whirled on his chair, legs stretched, not heading the fact that the moderator's booth was open to almost every side and every spectator looking up could see him behave like a child.

At his friend's question, the host barked out a laugh. "You know exactly which one, Shouta. Why are you asking?"

Of course he knew, Aizawa thought only slightly bitter. He had made a mental note for all his student's matches, when they would be, against whom, and how likely it was that there was a slight possibility of losing for them.

Of course he knew, and the thought that the other was late became even more prominent.

Pushing himself to his feet, Aizawa strode towards the door. "Moderate the next few matches without me."

"Eeeeh?" Mic called after him, voice slightly rising – but not to the level it would if he really were angry. "You're leaving me? That really hurts my feelings, Shouta. You're really, really hurting me right now."

"Yes, yes."

"Hurting me, Shouta!" Mic called after him as the door fell closed behind him.

Aizawa waved through the last gap before he closed it completely.

As soon as he was outside, he reached for his phone and pushed one of the buttons that automatically would call a number he had saved there.

One ring, two, and…

"Yes?" the hoarse voice answering sounded slightly breathless, strained, and any other time, Aizawa would have instantly asked for the reason why, but not this time.

"You're…", he began, only to be interrupted.

"…late. Yes," another wheeze, and Toshinori coughed slightly. It didn't help the breathlessness. "Recovery Girl's check-up took longer than I expected. The match is about to start?"

"In a few minutes," Aizawa started walking down the hallway, with a goal set in mind. "You won't make it before it starts."

"I'm afraid not."

Damn. That was the last thing he had wanted to hear. But he couldn't blame the other, wouldn't do so, Aizawa concluded, swiftly turning the next corner.

Where would the boy be? The ranks. Probably the stands.

"I will be there as fast as I can," Toshinori promised, coughing again.

The sound pulled Aizawa from his musings, and he frowned. There was not the sound of blood in the cough, but still… "Don't bust your remaining lung while you're at it."

What once could have been taken as a dry comment or even an insult now only got a breathless laugh from the former Number One, delighted even through the slight wheeze behind it. "I will try my best."

A pause followed, only filled with forced breaths and the sound of the other running. Aizawa turned around the corner, aiming for the steps behind it – the one that lead to the stands.

"Aizawa-kun… do me a favor?"

"Probably already on it," the underground hero answered.

"Reading my mind again."

"You're too easy to read."

"Aaah," the sound was half sigh, half shuddering breath, before Toshinori continued.

"I'm a bit worried… about that boy's habit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ H ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding them wasn't difficult. Even amidst the crowd and with chattering of dozens and hundreds of people resounding around them, his students had a knack for standing out everywhere and anywhere.

He just had to follow the laughter, arguments and louds swears, accompanied with colorful splashes of banners and shirts and activated quirks (he had told them, so many times, to be careful with those), and ran right into them.

Scanning the group, Aizawa quickly assessed the situation. Bakugou was trying to get Kirishima and Kaminari off of his snacks without getting too violent or just straight up throwing them over the balustrade in front of them, Iida and Momo were trying to get the situation to calm down and sighed fondly when it didn't really work, Shouto was munching his soba contently while Uraraka and Tsuyu just smiled at their friends' antics, Jirou and Satou were holding up a self-made banner in all kinds of green and yellow, and…

There was one missing.

Aizawa frowned as he came to stand beside their seats, talking over their noise without even raising his voice. "Where is he?"

"Ah," Uraraka leaned back, almost upside down as she peered up at him, beaming. "Eraserhead! Hello!"

"Uraraka-san, may I remind you that we are still on school grounds, technically," Iida piped up, hands all but swirling about.

"Whoops! I meant, Aizawa-sensei! Sorry, sorry!"

"Sensei, if you're looking for Izuku-chan, he already went ahead to prepare himself," Tsuyu said, voice calm and soft.

Aizawa's brows furrowed, and he almost snarled to himself. "Preparing"… knowing that troublesome child, he would probably just be…

"He was freaking the fuck out because All Might wasn't here yet," Bakugou's voice cut through his thoughts. The blond had surrendered his snacks for the time being, glancing over at his contemplative teacher. "Muttering something about that he wouldn't be able to show the world that he is here, or some shit."

"Bakugou, language," someone reminded him and got a growl for the effort.

This troublesome child. Just as bad as All Might himself, Aizawa thought with slight exasperation. "I will see to that."

Bakugou nodded and proceeded to get his food back with loud swearing and explosions popping off in his palms.

Aizawa turned to leave, but not without instructing, "Freeze Bakugou if he tries to explode something for real."

Shouto nodded with his mouth still full and gave him a thumps-up.

That put Aizawa's mind slightly at ease, at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ H ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turning the last corner, into the hallway that lead to the stadium, Aizawa slowed in his stride, coming to a halt as he took the scene in.

Izuku was walking up and down, from one side of the hallway to the other, pacing as he mumbled to himself and tugged at his bottom lip. Occasionally he would stop, gaze becoming distant, before he would shake himself and start his pacing again.

So easy to read… so obvious.

"I'm going to call this match off if you don't quit that worrying," Aizawa warned, not sharp or loud, but serious nonetheless as he closed the last distance.

Izuku didn't jolt or flinch, like he once would have. Perhaps some things did change, after all. Instead he stilled, shifting ever so slightly as if readying himself for an attack as he turned – and relaxed as he caught sight of his teacher. "Eraserhead."

(And wasn't it almost ironic, that this self-conscious boy was the one who had the least problem with calling him by his hero name.)

"All Might will be late," he informed Izuku, instead of contemplating that irony.

Worry flashed through green eyes, so he added, "He's alright. Just took longer than he expected."

"Aaah," Izuku smiled a tad wryly, scratching the back of his head. "I'm glad."

Aizawa arched an eyebrow at him, silently saying But still worried.

Izuku's smile faltered and fell at the sight of that look, and the boy's façade fell. Shoulders slumping slightly, head hanging, he muttered quietly, trailing of more and more, "I just hoped… he would be here before the match starts… I know it's silly and he can't be here all the time, but… I would have felt better with him here, even if he just called me prince of nonsense again…"

He fell silent, wringing his hands as he looked to the ground.

And Aizawa sighed quietly. Toshinori had nailed it with his worries.

"He still has that habit of thinking that he needs me."

Really now…

"I'm not All Might, but let me try something," huffing, Aizawa leaned down to be on eye level with the boy (once he would have kneeled, but Izuku had grown taller by far, and just when had that happened?)

Izuku looked up from his fiddling and watched him, eyes going wide as he noticed what his teacher was doing, bottom lip becoming slightly wobbly, and for a second, Aizawa felt like smiling. Something told him that his students already had a notion of what was coming.

Making sure to never lose eye contact, he lifted his hand, fingers curling into a fist as he placed it gently upon the boy's chest, right where his heart beat strongly.

Green met black and their gazes locked.

(Somehow, both of them felt as if they had already found themselves in situations very similar to this one.

"Do you want to become incapacitated again?"

"I can still move, Sensei!"

"Got it, trouble child?" )

"Go out there and win."

He didn't say it loud or demanding, but as calm as he would have said anything else.

Not a demand, a hope, but a fact.

Izuku's expression shattered for a moment, eyes glittering and glistening suspiciously as a tremor shook his chin and bottom lip, but he caught himself quickly. Reaching up to rub at his eyes vigorously, the boy answered only a bit choked, "Yes, sir!"

Humming in answer, Aizawa pulled back, giving his student the room to collect himself.

Izuku sniffled still, but stood straighter than before, smiling even, and not worrying any longer.

The hero still hadn't see the next thing coming, though.

Before Aizawa could nod to himself and conclude this as a success, he was startled out of his mind by the smaller body slamming into him frontally, colliding with him in a blurry of green and tousled hair and strong arms wrapping around him, squeezing tightly.

If not for his reflexes and him instinctively steeling himself, he would have been knocked over as Izuku hugged him –did so with enough strength that part of Aizawa wondered if the boy was using his quirk for it. But the thought was gone as fast as it had come, lost in the surprise, confusion and the warm the boy was emitting…

And then it was over, and Izuku was recoiling as fast as lightning, jumping backwards while calling "Sorry, sorry, sorry!".

Before Aizawa could do more than blink, the boy had already turned – blush matching the red of his shoes– and darted down the hallway, towards the open stage beyond it.

This little…

Despite himself, Aizawa could feel a grin, wide and toothy, form on his face as he recalled the words whispered against the front of his shirt. Right when the breath had been knocked out of him. Izuku had strategically assessed the moment where he couldn't talk back, and used that to say what he wanted to say.

"Thank you."

"You brat."

The words entirely lacked bite, and he knew it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ H ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn't even get back to the stairs leading to the ranks above as he was caught again. A warm hand landed on his shoulder (strength and warmth eerily similar to the hug before) and a deep, slightly wheezing voice greeted him. "Aizawa-kun! There you are!"

Adjusting ever so slightly to accommodate the weight resting on his left side, Aizawa let a beat pass for Toshinori to catch his breath before he asked, "How was the check up?"

Taking a deep breath, Toshinori flashed him a grin and a thumps up. "I'm as fit as a fiddle!"

"Hm. You certainly don't sound like it."

"I'm an old man and ran the whole way here, you can't blame me for that."

"I can blame you for running like a madman at your age."

"Touché!"

No matter what people believed – Aizawa sometimes wondered how nobody had noticed for years just how similarly bright and contagious Toshinori's and All Might's laughs were. He waited it out, patiently, knowing that it was not their friendly bickering what interested the former hero right now.

And as if on cue, Toshinori squeezed the other's shoulder just a bit tighter before he let go, voice not as calm as he probably would have liked, "How is he?"

"Nervous," Aizawa answered as they made to climb the stair in no hurry, lingering on every step for longer than necessary. Above them, the sounds of the chanting voice and the chattering children weaved through the exit to the ranks. "No longer doubting himself, though, it seemed."

"You talked to him."

Aizawa hummed, shrugging. "Someone had to. And since you were not quite there yet…"

"Thank you, Aizawa-kun," came the warm, sincere reply.

"Hm-hm."

They shared something like a half-smile of understanding.

Just then, Mic's voice boomed above them, ringing through the hallway around them. The crowd went wild, but it wasn't enough to drown their colleague out, and they listened intently.

"And here comes our 2nd-year, dear listeners – Midoriya Izuku! He made it quite far at the festival last year, so will he reach the top this time?! Let's find out!"

And instantly, they could hear very familiar voices getting loud, cheering and yelling growing even louder than the voice hero himself.

"GO GET THEM, DEKU!"

"GO MIDORIYA! WOOOHOOOO!"

"Deku, Deku!"

"Awwww, look, he looks much better now!"

"Mido-chan! Look over here, over here!"

"YOU BETTER DON'T FUCKING LOSE TO ANYONE BUT ME, DEKU!"

"Sheesh, Bakugou is as motivating as ever."

"Oh my," the corners of Toshinori's mouth curled, then stretched into a wide smile that all but split his features. "Sounds like not only Izuku is quite excited about this."

"Seriously?" Aizawa huffed at his friend, rolling his eyes. "You're the one who's shivering with excitement. Or is that worry, All Might?"

That got a bright smile from Toshinori. "Worry? I don't have to worry. He is going to win."

"Are you playing favorites again?"

"Just knowing the strengths of our students."

"Oh, of course."

They reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the sunlight – instantly greeting with more cheering.

"Sensei!"

"You're here!"

"How did the check-up go?"

"Come sit with us!"

"Ah, Aizawa-sensei, you have to sit with us, too!"

It was loud and cheery as always, Toshinori already gone from his side as the blond was tugged forwards into excited hugs and chats ("Deku will win, right, Sensei?") and Aizawa gave himself the moment of silence before joining them, gaze straying over the balustrade and down to the stage.

There, on one side of the field, Izuku stood with his back straight and head held high, easy and confident. Gaze sharp and gleaming but smile wide and bright, the boy – no, the hero – cracked his knuckles.

Assessing the situation.

Ready to smash through every obstacle.

In order to get out of every pinch,… a hero needs to be more than a one-trick phony.

And Aizawa smiled, knowing one thing without a doubt.

He will win.