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As a group of kids ran down the hallway, Shōta stepped to the side, watching them with narrowed eyes. He didn’t have the heart to say anything about running in the hall. Anyway, he was pretty sure one of them recognised him if the sudden jaw drop was anything to go by and hoped they’d get to their destination without a lecture. Shōta was feeling lenient.
Some might call it festive.
To celebrate the Lunar New Year, U.A. had opened its gates to student families and friends. There was to be a festival tomorrow, ending with fireworks, and the students were busy setting up stalls and making sure the event would be a hit. It brought a smile to Shōta’s face, thinking of their excitement, and he’d let running in the halls slide. For today.
He headed for the staff room, ready to chug a coffee and stare blankly at his computer screen for twenty minutes or so. He entered, and Nemuri’s welcome caught him off guard.
“I thought you had class,” he said, nodding to Thirteen and Recovery Girl, the former hunched over their desk and the latter setting chocolates down on each desk. Chiyo was wonderful like that.
“I did, then one of the boys decided to punch a hole in the wall and that was that.” Nemuri shrugged, sipping the straw of her water bottle and shrugging. “It was enough damage we had to cancel the class. Clean up is dealing with it now, and I get to run through security plans for tomorrow’s event.”
Shōta turned to boil the kettle, shifting out of Chiyo’s way as she walked past, small smile on her face. Her chocolates were given out, and she was off, at least until the door opened, and, judging by Chiyo’s greeting, Yagi stepped into the office.
“Your class are running a café in the daytime, aren’t they?” Nemuri said. “I’m going to be on security,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m sure they’ll save some cake for you,” Shōta said, pouring coffee into his mug and adding milk. He turned, glancing over at Yagi’s hunched figure, enduring a lecture from Chiyo, and he smiled into his mug as he took a sip. Some things never changed.
“What will you be doing? You’re not down as supervision,” Nemuri said, and Shōta sighed.
“Nosy,” he commented, though it was a fair observation. “Clearly I’ll be busy. At the festival,” he amended, and Nemuri narrowed her eyes.
“You’re always busy. Always taken.” She hummed to herself, and Shōta fought the urge to shrug. So what if he was always busy? “The only time you’ve been busy at a big celebration like this is when you’ve had someone to distract you, like that time at the summer festival when you ditched us for your boyfriend?”
Shōta did shrug then. He remembered that festival, remembered that particular boyfriend, and he hated how close to the mark Nemuri was.
“But we both know you don’t have a boyfriend. So who are you going to be busy with, Shōta,” Nemuri practically demanded, her shrill use of Shōta’s name catching Thirteen and Yagi’s attention. Chiyo had vanished, and Yagi was making his way slowly to the kitchen, patting the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief he’d clearly been given by Chiyo.
“Maybe I’m already taken with someone,” Shōta said, and his body tilted back ever so slightly as Yagi passed behind him.
Nemuri seemed to lose interest in the matter as Thirteen engaged her in a conversation about a suit designer they’d both been following on social media. Shōta tuned the conversation out, standing in the middle of the small kitchen area and sipping his coffee as Yagi fumbled around behind him.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Shōta offered quietly, and Yagi dropped a teaspoon, the metal clanging against the side of his mug of coffee.
“Is that so?” he replied, and Shōta glanced at him, nodding.
“The students seem very excited too,” Yagi said, finally finishing up his drink. He wiped the kitchen counter, nodding when he was done. “It’ll be nice to see their hard work paying off.”
Shōta hummed to himself, waiting for Yagi to ask about where they would meet, what their plans were, what he was interested in seeing first. He didn’t, however, and Shōta frowned as he excused himself, heading to his desk and opening a book from one of his many towers.
Interesting, Shōta thought, and he downed the rest of his coffee, tongue numbing as it was way too hot for him to be able to do so. Time to go. Class wasn’t ready for him yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t nap the spare time away. Napping was always better than thinking.
He didn’t see Yagi until their shared heroics class later that day. Somehow, they managed to avoid talking until the sun was setting, the class dripping sweat and bounding off for the changing rooms. Yagi stepped up beside him, shadow looming, and he congratulated Shōta on a successful training class.
“Everyone’s improved so much,” Yagi said, and from anyone else, Shōta would return a scathing reply. But, because it was Yagi, he understood the unsaid words.
“We’re getting them there,” Shōta replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll do the best we can for them.”
“And a little more!” Yagi said, parroting words Shōta’s said to him before.
“And a little more,” Shōta agreed, smiling into his capture weapon.
They stood there in silence for a little while longer, and Shōta thought that, perhaps, now was going to be the moment. He turned as Yagi shifted, opening his mouth and glancing down.
“I have something to get on with,” he said instead, turning on his heel awkwardly. Shōta watched him go with an empty feeling in his chest, and he narrowed his eyes as Yagi’s figure vanished back into the building.
Shōta had thought he’d made it pretty clear that he wanted to go to the festival with Yagi. He thought they’d been on the same page recently too, meeting outside of work hours to do paperwork and lesson plans together, eating meals together both on and off campus and, on one notable afternoon, spent a few hours at Shōta’s favourite cat café. He thought they were doing okay, perhaps even on their way to making something official.
Then again, Shōta had been wrong about these things before. He wasn’t about to force anything if Yagi truly didn’t want it.
Still. It would have been nice to spend the festival with someone.
.
Shōta didn’t bother to change from his usual outfit into something more traditional. It was a waste of his time, he had no one to impress, and if the students send him scandalous looks then he was enriching their lives, in a way.
“Aizawa-sensei!” Iida called, balancing trays on his hands and moving between tables of their café. “Class 1-A would like to say we’re disappointed in your lack of commitment to the festival!”
Shōta raised an eyebrow.
“Sensei, please go behind the counter!” Iida said, and Shōta did as told, amused by the reaction of his class.
“Over here please, Aizawa-sensei!” Yaoyorozu said, and Shōta played along, entering one of the back rooms. A few of the other girls were there, and he heard Uraraka apologise before he felt his weight vanish, body floating upwards.
“Now!” Yaoyorozu said, and Shōta felt Asui’s tongue wrap around his middle, keeping him suspended.
“What are you doing?” he asked, fingers itching for his capture weapon. Shōta would hear them out, first, and lash out second. There was sure to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. He hoped.
“We’re so sorry sensei!” Yaoyorozu said, and Shōta could feel her measuring him up, hands flicking between holding a measuring tape up and flicking through a fashion manual.
Shōta’s blood ran cold. She couldn’t be, could she? From the angle he was at, Shōta couldn’t see what Yaoyorozu was making, but he could hear cloth hitting the floor, and she was done quickly. Weight returned, and Asui let him down gently, and Shōta stared down at the pile of clothing on the floor.
“I kept it subtle,” Yaoyorozu said triumphantly, and she really had. Shōta could just about pick out golden embroidery, but the remainder of the material was black. He sighed. There was no way he was going to leave without changing into a proper outfit.
“Get out, all of you,” he said, and didn’t move until the door to the storage cupboard was shut tight. Shōta sighed and began stripping, eyebrows rising at the red briefs tucked away between the clothing. Yaoyorozu had really thought of everything, but Shōta refused to change underwear here.
Tying half of his hair up in a bun felt natural as Shōta changed, and when he exited the storage cupboard, his class turned to him, beaming. Shōta refused to fluster, eyes narrowing as he tucked his old clothes against his chest.
“Since you’re all so invested in making sure I change clothing, your task is to look after my uniform. If even a single bit of equipment is missing, I’ll know. Keep it safe until class, and I’ll delay your next test by a few days.” Shōta wasn’t prepared to try and navigate the festival back to the dorms, and he needed a more concrete excuse to delay the test other than he felt they could use a few days’ break after the festival.
His class look at him proudly, as if they’ve managed to pull off something complex and amazing. Shōta tried not to smile. He didn’t want to encourage them, even if he was impressed by their efforts.
“Enjoy the festival, sensei!” they called as he headed out, and Shōta failed at not smiling. Bratty kids, he thought, and meandered down the hallway, nothing sparking his interest.
There was a reason Shōta never came to these things alone, and he thought that he should have requested a last-minute security patrol. It was a little sad to see everyone enjoying themselves, and he wasn’t about to hover around his class demanding attention from them.
“You’ve actually dressed nicely!” Nemuri said, waving an arm as she walked towards Shōta. “Don’t tell me you’re meeting your boyfriend here? You’re that serious about him you decided to dress up nicely?”
Nemuri looking him up and down, tilting her head to the side.
“I swear I’ve seen that embroidery before,” she murmured, and Shōta sighed. Maybe he could just accompany Nemuri around. Even if he wasn’t getting overtime for it, it was better than wandering around aimlessly.
“There they are!” Hizashi shouted from behind them, and Shōta turned. It seemed as though a few of the teachers had banded together, and Shōta greeted them politely as Hizashi began to detail the awesome and amazing photo booth some of the students were running.
“We got these!” he said, shoving a reel of photos in Shōta’s face. “You should join us later!”
The photos are, for lack of a better word, cute. They’re decorated in little hearts and fireworks, and the teachers are all holding props or wearing hats. His eyes linger a little longer on Yagi’s smile before Shōta shoves the photos back.
“Hey, everyone! They’re going to draw the raffle prizes.” Hizashi shot Shōta a thumbs up, a sign he thought he was doing him a favour. It’s clear why when the teaching group, Nemuri included, wander off to the raffle draw. It left Shōta with Yagi, both of them bemused by the sudden turn of events.
Shōta wouldn’t be surprised if Hizashi had planned it.
“I didn’t even know there was a raffle,” Yagi said, and Shōta snuck a glance at him.
Heat flooded Shōta’s cheeks as he remembered Nemuri’s comment from earlier. She had seen his clothing’s pattern before, just inverted. Instead of black fabric, Yagi wore gold, embellished with black thread. He looked good, comfortable, and Shōta tried to slow his heartbeat down.
“It’s not something I would have worn normally,” Yagi said, misunderstanding Shōta’s look. “Yaoyorozu helped me with the design and production. It was the entire class’ plan though, in truth.” Yagi pressed his lips together, looking around the corridor as if searching for someone.
“You’re alone?” he asked, a frown appearing on his face, and Shōta looked up, nodding slowly.
“Of course I am,” he replied, and Yagi tilted his head. He was clearly trying to work something out, so Shōta waited, wondering where his thoughts would take him.
“Is your boyfriend somewhere else, in that case?” Yagi said, and Shōta jolted.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he replied curtly, and Yagi gave a weak laugh, waving a hand.
“Sorry, sorry, you did mention that to Kayama-san didn’t you. Um, then perhaps whoever you’re taken with? Would that be a better way of asking?” Yagi looked so meek and polite in that moment, and Shōta took a moment to really register the words. When they sunk through, his lips parted and he looked at Yagi in disbelief.
“The person I was referring to was you,” Shōta said shortly, watching in amusement as Yagi’s eyes widened and his jaw slackened. “I was waiting for you to ask me to the festival and figured I’d misread the signs when you didn’t.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Yagi laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh, not really, and he cut himself off after a moment.
“It was a hint? I thought there was someone else.” He looked down at Shōta, looking like he wanted to say something more and then flaked.
“Just you,” Shōta returned, and there was silence for a few moments as Shōta let Yagi digest his words.
“Oh,” came the reply, soft and low.
Shōta felt heat creep back into his cheeks, thinking that perhaps he was still wrong, that he’d misread everything, that Yagi had just been being nice to him, like he was to everyone. He turned, preparing to make his excuses, and froze when he felt Yagi’s warm lips against his cheek.
He pulled back in an instant, looking shocked at his own actions.
“Ah,” Yagi said, and Shōta relaxed, knowing now this wasn’t just a one-sided thing at all, that he’d been right all along.
“Would you like to spend the festival with me?” Shōta asked, and Toshinori nodded gently, a soft smile creeping onto his lips.
“Perhaps I’ll even agree to be your boyfriend by the end of it,” Toshinori retorted with a grin, bending down to kiss the top of Shōta’s head before he could reply.
And, as festivals went, this one was incredibly memorable.
.