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Shouta spent most of the night grading papers, swearing under his breath that so many of his students could score this badly, knowing what happened last time they failed their exams.
They’re unfocused, but then again so is he.
It’s hard to blame them knowing where their thoughts are, where they need to be, but still, as the person responsible for them, Shouta can’t let them neglect their education, even if the fate of the world itself is in their hands.
He won’t send out a bunch of heroes to save it if all they get out of his classes are the best ways to punch someone. Their minds matter. Knowing the laws so they don’t lose their licenses matters. Knowing how to keep people alive matters. Knowing how to do percentages matters.
These little red marks are ominous.
Shouta yawns with a stretch and sits back in his chair.
He could use a nap, that’s for sure. Going to bed would be better, but it looks like Shouta is stuck with his sleeping bag for the night based on his much work he has to do, and even so, sleeping in is out of the question.
Fuck, Shinsou.
Shouta leans across the desk towards a stack of papers and fishes out one of the forms from the middle rack.
It’s not that he forgot to fill it out, but he didn’t expect that half of his class would burn through three of his good red pens tonight before he could.
He writes the first stroke and swears under his breath at the familiar red ink and swaps his pen out with one he hopes is just a regular black.
Shinsou Hitoshi is requested for direct supervision under Eraserhead at 7 a.m., Tuesday. Shinsou will complete his assignments during free study in his own time before 7 a.m., Wednesday.
The message itself is just a courtesy. Shouta could leave it blank, and he would, but the first time he did, Shinsou was marked absent by the pain in the ass in charge of his class with a personal grudge against the hero course. Shinsou’s grades won’t suffer because of his training, just like none of Shouta’s students’ will, and he won’t have his transfer to the right program impeded by clerical nonsense, such as misfiled forms by other instructors.
Shouta fills out the rest of the information methodically, including which training room they’ll be in, how many hours he’ll need him, and just where his teacher can shove his–.
He exhales a deep breath and signs his name at the bottom before pressing at the scent patch on his neck to make sure the seal hasn’t given out since he put it on a few hours ago.
It seems to be alright.
He’s been unreasonably irritable lately, more so than usual, as pointed out directly by both Yamada and All Might, but maybe if his students spent more time double checking their homework than they did trying to sniff out a mate, he wouldn’t have a reason to be.
And if certain instructors wouldn’t get in the way of his student’s progress…
The kids aren’t that bad. Bakugou and Midoriya came as a mated pair, which seems to be unknown to them according to All Might who’s been far too invested in Shouta’s opinion, and he caught Kaminari trying to form his own harem just to see what would happen.
Shouta can excuse their unfocus with their schoolwork because of villains, but he will not tolerate his class putting their presentations before their futures. Lives depend on their success.
Thankfully one student doesn’t seem that concerned with mating or, specifically, finding an alpha.
His interest in the subject at all was limited to one question, a reasonable question that Shouta scowled at simply because he hates answering it, but he did the way he always does.
“You’re not mated are you, Sensei?”
“Not anymore.”
Shinsou then made some little shithead quip about Shouta being a lonely old man because what kind of an alpha went for as long as he had without finding an omega willing to put up with him after the first one bailed, and Shouta only responded by whipping his capture scarf to teach Shinsou that the second he loses his focus even to barate an old man, is the second he gets tied to a tree upside down while the old man stretched his legs on the ground below.
Yes, he was mated.
The bites on his neck and wrists have long faded so much so that Shouta barely remembers they were ever there, and that’s probably for the best.
There’s not a lot of people who remember he ever had them, and he would prefer to keep it that way.
Shouta glances at the clock and sees the little hand pointing dangerously close to the nine.
It’s not late relatively, he’ll be grading papers until the wee hours, but he’s got about ten minutes left until it’s time for cerfew. Even as a teacher, he has to respect that.
God forbid a wave of nosy students leave their rooms just to see why the scary alpha instructor from the hero course has come for a visit.
Fuck, it’s almost not worth going.
Shouta grabs the form off of his desk and gets up with a huff, not willing to waste any more time than he has to keeping the kid he’s training from flunking out for attendance.
For a hero school, there are glaring gaps within the administration, and he has no problem pointing them out, starting with the exam itself that said a kid that talented can’t be a hero because his quirk doesn’t work against robots.
For fuck’s sake.
Nothing against Bakugou, he’s going to be one hell of a hero, but a part of Shouta wishes Shinsou won the sports festival instead. It would have made it easier to get him transferred, and it might have proved that the test only shows which students are the fastest or who can punch the hardest, neither of which are the only qualifications that make someone a hero.
Shinsou has potential.
Not only does Shinsou have what it takes, he’s willing to put the work in to get it. The only reason Shouta isn’t training him earlier in the day and for longer is because of these stupid forms and the fact that Shinsou has to turn them in himself.
That’s going to change as soon as his transfer is approved.
They’ll start at 4 a.m. which will give him time to return to the dorms and shower before class, and then Shouta is going to have to keep an eye on him to make sure all the time he lost studying the wrong material doesn’t set him back a year.
If Shouta was a less ethical man, he would have grabbed one of the papers before he left. Yaoyorozu might have been able to teach him a thing or two, but the last thing he wants to do is lose one of the best students he’s ever had to cheating. These one on one lessons are pushing it as it is.
Thankfully he’s not the only member of the faculty doing this. It’s not favoritism, not by a long shot. It’s for the greater good, or whatever he feels like telling himself as he drags himself across campus to hand over a permission slip.
He wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. He wouldn’t waste his own time.
He hasn’t had a feeling this good about someone since– well, in a very long time.
The student dorms are warmer than the offices, and they’re surprisingly quiet considering they house a bunch of reckless teenagers. At least he won’t have to deal with enforcing the curfew of a bunch of kids he’s never met before. Nothing would irritate him more right now.
Shouta takes the elevator up with a yawn, and as annoyed as he is that he has to take this little trip, he’s not… annoyed by it, but that isn’t anything for him to think into. Maybe Shinsou’s right. He is an old man, and he’s mellowing out.
Doubtful.
The way to Shinsou’s room isn’t unfamiliar to him. He’s walked here with him before to get in more time for lectures to not interfere with the physical training that Shinsou is desperately lacking in the general course.
He doesn’t need to be able to pick up a car, but he’ll need to be able to manage a few pushups if he wants to pass his transfer physical.
God, without his quirk, Class A would eat him alive.
Maybe he can pull some strings and get him full time, unrestricted access to the gym. What’s the point of teaching here for so long if he can’t manage that?
If there’s one thing he’s not going to do is let Shinsou fall behind, not when everyone else got a three second head start. He’s not going to lose someone who could potentially be one of the greatest heroes to ever come out of this place to scrawny arms and a shit placement system.
He idly presses against the patch on his neck to make sure it’s secure and continues the rest of the way until he gets to Shinsou’s door.
He knocks and waits, the form pinched between two fingers at his side.
If he’s not in his room, I swear to–.
The door opens, and Shouta opens his mouth to say something like be late, and you’ll owe me ten laps for this, but the sound itself gets caught in his throat.
The sight of him is to be expected.
Shinsou stands in the doorway with a pair of sweatpants and an Eraserhead t-shirt, which Shouta will have to tell him to throw away immediately when his thoughts return, with his hair pushed out of his face with some kind of jagged metal band, but what jars him isn’t his appearance, but his scent.
UA has a strict policy about covering scent glands, especially since alphas and omegas aren’t separated in their classes (and now dorms), and most students are on suppressants anyway, but apparently Shinsou isn’t.
And there’s no reason for him to wear a patch in his own room. Shouta wouldn’t. No one would.
Lavender and jasmine flood out, a scent not coming from a candle or fragrance, but directly from the person standing before him.
This is Shinsou’s scent.
It’s oddly sweet considering who it belongs to, but not… incorrect. Shouta’s nose doesn’t wrinkle at it, his eyes don’t search for a source, and when he breathes it in, he swears it’s as familiar as his own hand soap.
It’s just like Shinsou’s sweat.
He remembers this.
He sometimes catches traces of it when they train together, but it’s always been outside somewhere in the forest on the outer edge of the school grounds. Until now Shouta brushed it off as one of the flowers or trees, never breaking his focus away from what mattered the most in that moment.
Shinsou’s training.
They’re not training right now.
“Sensei?” Shinsou asks, surprised to see him. More likely surprised to see him frozen in place like someone who would do that at the sight of anyone. “Am I in trouble?”
Shouta exhales and shakes his head, the scent of coffee on his own breath a quick enough deterrent that the rest of his thoughts form. Yes, he came here to do something, not to gawk.
“Take this to your teacher tomorrow,” he says, handing Shinsou the form. “Don’t make me wait this time.”
“Oh right, thanks,” he says. “Sorry… about this.”
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “You’ll make it up to me when you join the hero course.”
Shinsou nods, but his scent sours as he looks off, and Shouta frowns, first because he doesn’t appreciate any of his students showing any discontent with him, second because he doesn’t like that Shinsou is showing discontent with him, and third because he can smell it when he shouldn’t be able to.
“What.”
“Nothing,” he says, his mouth pressing into a forced smile. “See you tomorrow, Sensei.”
“Is training with me getting in the way of your social life,” he says. “Have you decided to give up on being a hero?”
“No,” he says, furrowing his brow. “It’s not that. Don’t worry about it.
“Shinsou.”
“You’re spending a lot of your own time on this,” he says.
“Only what’s necessary.”
“I mean,” he says, scratching behind his ear. “They’re not going to let me transfer, and we both know it. I just don’t want to waste your time for nothing.”
“It’ll only be for nothing if you’re not ready when they test you again,” he says.
“I’ll be ready,” he says. “I promise.”
Shouta squints.
“I’m serious,” he says. “Remember what you said about the provisional license laws? Well, I– one sec.”
Shinsou turns around to go back into his room, and Shouta is mid eye roll when he sees what he probably shouldn’t have.
What he definitely shouldn’t have.
The pile of clothes arranged in the back of the room might look like clutter of untended laundry to someone who doesn’t know better, but Shouta isn’t one of those people.
He recognizes the shape immediately, various articles of clothing, blankets, and pillows formed into a ring and just the ideal size for a person to fold themselves in without any of the shallow walls collapsing.
It’s an omega’s nest without a doubt, private to the omega and the few they trust (normally reserved for their alpha or a familiar beta), but it isn’t meant to be seen by just anyone. Definitely not an alpha who might be standing here while the door’s open…
Shinsou is an omega.
He knew that.
Of course he knew that.
Shouta has had to schedule their training around his heat breaks three times this year, and every time Shinsou comes back, it’s like starting over completely.
“You need to eat more while you’re gone.”
“Yeah, I’d like to see you try it.”
They’ve gone back and forth about it enough times that Shinsou’s presentation isn’t something that he should find surprising, and it’s not really.
Mostly.
Sure Shouta knew he was an omega, but he didn’t consider it beyond a stamp on his file.
But Shinsou is an omega, and he has a nest.
There’s something… funny about nests. Alphas and betas who wouldn’t know about them might assume that it’s something every omega has in their rooms by default, but Shouta knows better. He knows too well, actually.
No, they don’t just have them.
Omegas only make nests when they’ve found their mates as a sort of preparation for what’s to come, and it wouldn’t happen for a high school crush, no matter how dramatic teenagers can be about their own feelings.
It’s not on purpose. It’s not wishful thinking. He’s sure they could try to force it, but that would just be clutter on the floor, and this isn’t that.
This is a perfectly crafted nest, one that would take hours to disassemble if Shinsou had to, and something he wouldn’t want Shouta or anyone looking at.
Shinsou has a mate. His instincts have spelled that out plain as day.
The nest is mostly black from the clothing with little bits of purple, gray, and yellow woven throughout, and one of the blankets Shouta can see has little cats on it. The composition is entirely him, and because of that, Shouta can’t readily tell who it is responsible for this.
There aren’t any signs of an alpha or the admiration of one, because if there were, he would see pieces of them hidden throughout like clues coded in colors and stray or stolen belongings, but this is all completely Shinsou.
And it’s none of Shouta’s business who Shinsou’s alpha is because he doesn’t concern himself with his students' personal lives, and that wouldn’t be any different here unless it affected Shinsou’s training, but still. He’s curious.
It’s like stumbling upon a crossword puzzle when you don’t necessarily seek them out but decide you want to know the answer to or prove you know how to find it.
Shouta would know how to find it because nests aren’t mythical to him. They contain pieces of their owners’ and their owners’ mates, which aren’t that hard to decipher when the pairs in question are heroes with purposefully gaudy costumes.
But Shinsou is in the general studies course, so his mate wouldn’t have a costume. Not for any practical reason, at least. He’s sure there are some who make their own in the spirit of going to school here, but that certainly isn’t the case now.
No, Shinsou’s mate isn’t someone who pretends to be a hero.
But it does answer one other question.
Why Shinsou may have given up becoming a hero or why he could think training him personally would be a waste of time or something to roll his eyes at.
Shouta thought he was more focused on that, but it seems he was wrong.
That’s disappointing.
That’s–.
Shouta’s capture scarf.
He didn’t see it at first, but when he finally notices it, it practically glows with how obvious it is.
The old capture scarf he lent Shinsou when they first started his training that Shinsou swore he somehow lost is coiled around the nest, weaving in and out like it was part of its original creation and not added later as an afterthought.
It had to be wound through over and over again while tucking in different pieces of fabric, and it would have taken Shinsou hours to do.
He didn’t lose it at all.
“Look,” Shinsou says, returning with a stack of papers covered in yellow highlighter with notes scribbled all over the margins. Shouta takes them from him, still stunned slightly, but the words vaguely come into focus. “I’ve been studying these stupid provisional hero laws every night for the last two weeks so I don’t break them. Go ahead, ask me anything.”
Right, this is what’s important.
Shouta flips through the pages and frowns. “If you fail your other classes, it won’t matter what you know because you won’t be in school here anymore.”
“Which is why I’m not going to fail them,” he says. “Social life. God, Sensei, I’m glad you think I have one of those, but half my class still thinks I’m going to brainwash them.”
“You did brainwash them,” he mumbles as he flips.
Good notes.
Most of these laws are arbitrary for someone with his type of quirk, but it’ll be good that he knows them. The more he’s prepared for, the better.
“I don’t think that was technically anyone from my class,” he says. “Listen, the point is, I’m not giving up. I would just hate for you to put in all of this time and effort just for me to be stuck here because I couldn’t pass the entrance exam.”
“An exam designed for anyone but you,” he says, and Shinsou frowns. “And me.”
“You?”
“How would someone with my quirk have handled that exam.”
Shinsou thinks for a moment and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it, and tell me tomorrow,” he says. “In the meantime, you should rest while you can. I’m not going to go easy on you just because you studied on your own.”
“I wouldn’t feel good about it if you did,” he says. “You should rest too, Sensei. I mean it’s late, and you’re still working.”
“Yes, living at my job now has its privileges,” he says. “I never have to stop. Go to bed.”
“You go to bed.”
Shouta squints, and Shinsou flashes him a mischievous smirk veiled with shadowed eyes and a wave of jasmine that Shouta may always associate with pain in the ass now.
And nests.
He needs to leave.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll be there,” Shinsou says. “And thanks for this. Sorry to give you more work.”
“It’s just a form,” he says. “You’ll make it up to me.”
Shinsou nods. “I will.”
“Good.”
“Sensei,” he frowns.
“What?”
“If I transfer for my second year, you won’t be my teacher, will you,” he asks.
“Not for that year, no,” he says. “But it’s the same for the rest of the class.”
“No, yeah, I know that, it’s just– yeah, nevermind,” he laughs, a murky scent following that Shouta almost fucks up and asks him about. No, openly discerning his student’s scent would be inappropriate, and it’s not his place to counsel him anyway. “Night, I guess.”
Shouta nods, and he hands Shinsou back his papers without a word before turning to leave.
He doesn’t need to stay here. He shouldn’t stay here, and Shinsou needs to sleep if he can.
The farther he gets, the more aware he becomes, and without Shinsou’s scent pouring out, Shouta’s head clears, and it clears enough to answer his own question for him.
He knows exactly what was wrong.
Even if Shinsou doesn’t know, or hasn’t identified it yet, the answer is hidden inside his nest, coiled around the outer walls like the only thread holding it together. Shinsou is worried about being separated from his–.
No.
That’s impossible.
Shouta was already mated once. It can’t happen again. It shouldn’t happen again. It doesn’t work like that. Mates are for life, and there can only be one, regardless of the circumstances.
And besides, the more important fact here is that he’s his teacher, twice his age and someone placed to watch over him until Shinsou is ready to go out into the world on his own.
Those two meanings can’t and shouldn’t overlap, and yet.
Shouta shakes his head as he walks out of the building.
No, Shinsou is mistaken. He’s taken his admiration for a hero similar to his own ideals and has conflated it so far that it’s bled into his instincts. When Shouta stops training him, his omega will seek out a more familiar alpha, most likely someone from the hero class on the same track as him. Class A has no shortage of options, Shouta is more than aware of.
He’s just confused, and he doesn’t understand that yet, that is, if he even knows he’s fostered more than just a crush on a teacher, which in itself isn’t necessarily a problem as much as it is uncomfortable.
He’s wrong. Shouta knows it, and soon Shinsou will too, and he’ll adjust his nest to fit the alpha it really belongs to, who, if proximity is enough to trigger an omega’s instincts, it’s already here somewhere on this campus.
It’s not Shouta. It couldn’t be.
But there is one part of this he can’t shake, not the existence of a nest or the scent of the omega it belongs to, but the capture scarf woven throughout.
The last and only person to ever do that was Oboro.
How could it have happened again?