This Eraserhead provisional license exam fanfiction explores student pressure, Midoriya’s burden, and unspoken faith between teachers.
The Provisional License Exam puts Class 1-A under pressure, revealing how much they’ve grown—and how much they still carry. From the observation room, Jessa and Aizawa watch their students face fear, restraint, and responsibility in equal measure. A quiet moment with Midoriya underscores the cost of heroism at such a young age. By nightfall, shared concern and unspoken pride draw two guarded teachers a little closer.
Chapter 10: The Weight They Carry
The observation room above the exam arena hums with quiet conversation. Teachers and pro heroes move between monitors, watching the students of UA prepare for the first phase of the Provisional License Exam.
Jessa stands at the glass railing, hands clasped loosely behind her back, eyes drifting toward Class 1-A clustering near the entrance. Her heart squeezes when she spots Midoriya bouncing nervously on his feet.
Aizawa walks up beside her, arms folded. His presence is calm but sharp, like a blade sheathed just enough not to cut someone who stands close.
“They have trained well,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
“They really have,” Jessa says softly. “You should be proud.”
He glances at her. A muscle in his jaw twitches.
“I am. I will never say it to their faces.”
She smiles. “Of course not. Wouldn’t want them getting overconfident.”
Before Aizawa can reply, a familiar voice rings through the room.
“Shota.”
Jessa closes her eyes for a brief second. Oh no.
Ms. Joke strides toward them with an ear-to-ear grin.
“Well hello again. Fancy seeing you two together. Should I be jealous.”
Aizawa’s shoulders stiffen visibly. “Do not start.”
Ms. Joke leans her elbow on the glass railing beside him and flutters her lashes exaggeratedly. “You are so grumpy. It is adorable.”
Jessa bites her cheek to hide a smile.
Shota shoots her a glare that says, do not encourage this.
Jessa lifts her hands innocently.
“I am not doing anything.”
“You are smiling,” he accuses.
“Maybe I am just happy to see your old school friend.”
“Very funny,” Shota replies dryly.
Ms. Joke looks between them, humming thoughtfully. “Interesting vibe you two have going on.”
Jessa nearly chokes.
Aizawa looks like someone kicked his soul.
“Absolutely not,” he mutters.
“Definitely not,” Jessa says quickly.
Ms. Joke’s grin widens in a way that is absolutely dangerous.
“Right. Sure. Absolutely nothing going on.”
Jessa turns very deliberately back to the arena.
Aizawa follows, ears faintly red.
During the Exam
As the first phase begins, the observation room grows quiet. Dozens of students sprint across the field, colors and quirks colliding in a chaotic dance.
Jessa tracks the movements automatically, analyzing patterns, strengths, weaknesses.
But her gaze keeps drifting back to Midoriya.
He is fast. Determined.
But something about him looks… strained.
“His movements are sharp,” she murmurs. “But he is still holding back.”
Aizawa nods. “He is trying not to break himself.”
She hesitates before speaking again. “I worry about the weight he carries.”
Shota’s eyes narrow a fraction. “Do you know something I do not.”
A dangerous question.
She picks her next words carefully.
“I know he looks up to All Might. Too much sometimes. He wants to protect everyone. Even at the cost of himself.”
Aizawa studies her for a moment.
“You sound like you are speaking from experience.”
She forces a small smile. “Maybe I am.”
Before the silence can grow heavy, a monitor flashes brightly.
Midoriya lands a perfect evasive maneuver, blasting forward with Shoot Style.
Jessa lifts her hands proudly. “That is my boy.”
Aizawa scoffs but she sees it: the faintest, grudging pride.
“He is competent,” he says.
“He is incredible,” she counters.
Shota does not argue.
Between Phases — Jessa and Midoriya
When the students return to the waiting area between phases, Jessa steps down to check in.
Midoriya jumps slightly when she calls his name.
“Midoriya. Walk with me.”
“Oh. Um. Yes. Teacher Shimizu. Ma’am. Sorry. Yes.”
She hides a fond smile as they step away from the crowd.
“You did well,” she says. “Very well.”
“Thank you,” he stammers. “But I still get scared. I still feel like I am not doing enough. Especially after… everything.”
She knows what he is referring to.
All Might.
The rooftop.
The burden he carries.
Quietly, she says, “You are becoming the kind of hero people can rely on. One step at a time. One breath at a time. You do not need to be perfect. You just need to keep moving forward.”
Midoriya’s eyes blur with emotion. “I… I will try.”
She places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“All Might believes in you. And so do I.”
He blinks rapidly. “Thank you, Shimizu-sensei.”
“You can call me Jessa if you want.”
He flushes. “I… I do not think I can do that without dying.”
She laughs. “Fair enough. Go on. Your friends are waiting.”
As he runs back, she hopes he does not ever carry his burden alone.
The Second Phase: Rescue Exercise
The rescue simulation begins and students scatter to save civilians. Some struggle. Some thrive. Some fail.
Jessa watches closely, heart swelling as Class 1-A pushes through adversity.
“These kids,” Hizashi whispers beside her, almost emotional, “they are something special.”
Aizawa nods slowly. “They are. They just do not know it.”
Jessa glances at him. “They will. Because of you.”
He looks at her long enough that she feels heat rise beneath her skin.
Then he turns away.
“Focus on the exam,” he mutters.
She rolls her eyes.
After the Results
When the list flashes showing who passed and failed, the room erupts with noise. Some cheers. Some groans.
Jessa claps proudly for the majority of Class 1-A who passed.
Then she sees Todoroki’s and Bakugo’s names missing.
“Oh,” she murmurs. “They will take that hard.”
“They need to,” Aizawa says gently. “Both are powerful but not complete. This is how they grow.”
The compassion in his voice surprises her.
He catches her expression.
His gaze softens, just for a breath.
Then he looks away again.
That Night: Quiet Dorm Moment
The teacher dorm kitchen is dim and quiet when Jessa wanders in that night. The only light comes from the soft glow above the stove, casting long shadows across the room.
Ripple is curled into a perfect circle on top of a folded dish towel, tail flicking in her sleep. Occasionally she lets out a tiny snore.
Jessa smiles faintly at the sight, then startles when she realizes she is not alone.
Aizawa stands at the counter near the window, one hand wrapped around a half-finished cup of tea. His hair is loose around his face, slightly messy in a way that makes him look softer than usual, almost young again.
He glances over when she steps inside.
“You are still awake,” he says quietly.
“So are you,” she answers.
He hums in agreement, gaze drifting back toward the dark window. The silence between them is not uncomfortable exactly, but it hums with something unnamed. Something warm and fragile.
Jessa steps to the sink and fills a glass with water, taking a slow sip before leaning back against the counter.
“They did well today,” she says softly.
“Most of them did,” Aizawa replies. His voice is calm, but she hears the undercurrent of pride he tries to hide. “It is a good start.”
She watches him for a moment, studying the tired set of his shoulders. “They are lucky to have you.”
He turns, a small frown tugging at his mouth. “That is debatable.”
“It really is not,” she says gently.
His gaze lingers on her, searching. For what, she cannot tell. Answers maybe. Or comfort he will not ask for.
“You did well today too,” he says finally.
The words are simple, but coming from him they feel like a rare gem pulled from the deep.
Jessa feels her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
Ripple stretches then, letting out a loud, sleepy chirp as if announcing her presence to the world. Both teachers glance over.
Aizawa huffs a quiet laugh. “She snores.”
“She has character,” Jessa says, smiling.
Ripple stands, stretches dramatically, then jumps down and pads straight toward Aizawa. She bumps her head against his shin, meowing softly.
Aizawa kneels without thinking and strokes the cat gently.
“She really likes you,” Jessa murmurs.
“She likes my warm lap,” he corrects.
“That too.”
He looks back up at her then. And for a moment, the world narrows to the two of them. The quiet. The late hour. The shared understanding that today changed their students and their lives more deeply than either of them wants to admit.
“I worry about Midoriya,” Jessa says softly. “The weight he carries. The pressure. He is still a child.”
Aizawa’s expression shifts. Not surprised. Not dismissive. More like someone who recognizes an echo of his own thoughts.
“So do I,” he says.
The honesty of it cuts right through her.
It feels like the first time in years that they have stood on the same side of something.
Like a memory of who they used to be.
Like the beginning of something fragile and real.
When Ripple headbutts his knee again, Aizawa breaks eye contact and rises slowly.
“Get some sleep, Jessa,” he says, voice softer than she expects. “Tomorrow will be another long day.”
She nods, suddenly aware of her heartbeat. “Goodnight, Shota.”
He almost flinches at the sound of his name from her mouth. Not in discomfort. In recognition.
His voice is warm when he finally replies.
“Goodnight.”
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