This Aizawa imagine captures tension, unspoken history, and the strain of working together while trying to stay professional.
Battle training puts more than skills on display when Jessa and Aizawa are forced to work side by side in front of an observant class. Their clashing philosophies, sharp banter, and undeniable chemistry don’t go unnoticed by the students. As professionalism strains under unspoken history, it becomes clear that some connections linger far longer than they should. And once teenagers start paying attention, secrets never stay quiet for long.
Chapter 3: A Class That Sees More Than They Should
The gym echoes with the sounds of students shuffling nervously into formation. The All Might posters on the wall seem to vibrate with anticipation. Today is battle training day. Costumes. Paired matches. High stakes.
Jessa stands beside Shota near the center of the room, arms crossed, chin lifted. Her teal streaks shimmer under the fluorescent lights. She looks calm.
She is not calm.
Standing this close to him is a test she did not prepare for.
Shota adjusts his capture weapon around his shoulders, barely glancing her way. “Stay close. Some of these kids have quirks that could cause unexpected chaos.”
“Please,” she says lightly. “Chaos is my specialty. I trained with Hizashi for years.”
A small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Unfortunate.”
She nudges him gently with her elbow. “Admit it. You missed me.”
He does not look at her. “I do not think that word applies.”
Ouch.
She hides it with a grin. “One day I will make you say it.”
“Unlikely.”
“Never say never, Shota.”
He stiffens slightly. He hates when she says his name like that.
Or he used to love it.
She cannot tell anymore.
Battle Training Begins
All Might launches into his explanation of the villain-hero scenario. The students buzz with excitement. Bakugo scowls. Midoriya looks like he might faint from trying too hard.
Jessa leans toward Shota as teams are announced. “You know, you could try smiling once. Just to reassure them you are not a cryptid.”
Shota stares ahead. “Smiling is unnecessary.”
“It is also human.”
“I prefer efficiency to humanity.”
“Knew that already.”
He ignores her.
She watches the first match unfold with focused eyes. Uraraka and Iida versus Bakugo and Midoriya.
The tension is high. Bakugo is explosive. Literally. Midoriya is overanalyzing every angle. Uraraka is creative. Iida is crisp and dutiful.
Jessa murmurs, “They are scared. But they are trying.”
Shota does not blink. “Trying is irrelevant if the outcome is death.”
She turns her head. “That is not all that matters.”
“It is what matters most.”
“No. Growth matters. Courage matters. Creativity matters.”
He finally faces her. His voice is quiet. “You get one chance in a real fight. One misstep. One moment of doubt. And you die.”
She does not flinch from the intensity in his eyes.
“Shota,” she says softly, “they are fourteen.”
He breaks eye contact first.
The Demonstration Fight
“Before we wrap up, I thought it would benefit you all to see two experienced pros demonstrate an encounter.”
Jessa stiffens. Shota sighs, long and pained. “This is unnecessary.”
Jessa’s grin widens. “Terrified I will embarrass you in front of your students”
He is already walking to the center of the gym. “Hardly.”
A thrill runs through her.
They have not fought each other since they were students. Back when she was still clumsy with her quirk and he relied too much on instinct rather than precision.
Now he is world renowned for precision.
And she is in the top tier of American heroes.
This will not be simple.
The students gather around the perimeter. Phones stay in pockets only because All Might’s presence forbids otherwise.
Jessa steps onto the mat opposite Shota. They circle each other slowly, a mirrored calm masking a lifetime of history.
He speaks first. “Do not hold back.”
“Oh good,” she says. “I was worried you would ask me to go easy on you.”
A ripple of amusement sweeps through the students.
The moment All Might calls, “Begin,” Jessa moves.
A burst of water spirals out from her fingertips in a swift arc aimed toward Shota’s center mass. He dodges with a clean step, scarf snapping outward to catch her knee.
She spins, avoiding it, sending a mist barrier directly between their sightlines.
His eyes glow faintly. She feels her quirk falter, but not fully. The mist hides too much.
He clicks his tongue quietly.
“You always did adapt quickly,” he mutters.
“You always were predictable,” she fires back.
That earns her a quick flicker of irritation.
He lunges. She counters. They move like two parts of a pattern they learned young, a rhythm imprinted in their bones.
She sends a compressed water blast toward the floor, propelling herself upward. He leaps after her without hesitation, scarf reaching for her ankle. She twists mid-air, kicking off the scarf and landing behind him.
The students gasp.
He tries to turn, but she sends a thin blade of water toward his wrist. He blocks with his forearm, redirecting the force, then snaps the scarf toward her midsection.
It wraps around her waist, pulling her forward.
Her breath catches, chest colliding with his. The impact ripples through both of them.
Their faces are inches apart.
He jerks the scarf loose immediately, stepping back faster than necessary.
The students collectively inhale at the tension.
Jessa recovers with a smirk. “Still grabbing people without asking, I see.”
Shota’s ears turn slightly red.
He counters with a quick attempt to erase her quirk the moment her eyes meet his. She drops her chin and raises her hand, forcing a spray of droplets between them. The refracted droplets scatter his sightline enough to sever the activation.
He did not expect that.
His eyes widen just slightly.
She uses the opening to rush him, sliding low and sweeping his legs. He uses the momentum to flip backward, landing in a crouch.
“Not bad,” he says quietly.
“Not finished,” she replies.
She thrusts both palms forward. A shockwave of resonant water pressure rattles the rafters. Shota braces with his scarf and forearms, skidding several feet backward until he regains his stance.
All Might raises both eyebrows. “Impressive. Very impressive.”
Finally, Shota signals a halt with one lift of his hand. His breathing is steady, but his shoulders are tense.
“You overextended,” he says.
“You blocked it,” she counters.
“There were more efficient choices.”
“Efficiency is boring.”
The students laugh.
For one heartbeat, Shota almost smiles.
Almost.
Then he catches himself. His expression shutters closed.
Jessa’s heart sinks.
Again.
Always again.
After the Fight – Student Reactions
As Shota exits, the students explode with chatter.
Mina stares, starry-eyed. “Okay, are they married or sworn enemies or something in between”
Kaminari leans back dramatically. “The chemistry. The skill. The violence. I am obsessed.”
Jiro shakes her head. “No way. That was personal.”
Iida adjusts his glasses. “Shimizu sensei demonstrated exceptional control. The exchange was… unusually coordinated.”
Midoriya has already filled half a page of notes. “Their combat synergy is extremely developed. It feels like they have known each other for years.”
Uraraka nods slowly. “But they barely spoke after. Something is wrong.”
Bakugo scoffs. “Whatever drama they have is none of our business.”
But even he looks curious.
Jessa’s Flashback – Rooftop, Age Fifteen
She sits on the rooftop after evening training, legs dangling off the ledge, fingers trembling from overuse of her quirk.
The air around her smells like wet stone and sunset.
Shota sits beside her, not touching, but close. Close enough that she feels him like a second heartbeat.
“You pushed past your limit again,” he says softly.
She shrugs. “I wanted to impress you.”
He freezes.
She laughs to cover the embarrassment. “I just mean… I want to be someone you can rely on. Someone who can keep up.”
“You already are,” he says.
The honesty in those three words nearly breaks her.
He turns his head slightly, looking at her with an expression she will never forget. Gentle. Worried. Something deeper hiding underneath.
“Jessa,” he says quietly, “you are important. You have to take care of yourself.”
She smiles, watery and small. “Then stay with me on the roof tonight. Just until the stars come out.”
He stays.
He always stayed.
Until the day everything shattered.
Present Day – After Class
Jessa finds Shota in the hallway. She tries, gently, to bridge the distance.
“We worked well together today,” she says. “Despite the insults.”
He does not pause. “If you say so.”
“We do not have to be friends,” she continues, “but we are stuck working together. Might as well be on the same side.”
“We have different priorities.”
“We have the same priority. The kids.”
He exhales slowly. “You rely on sentiment. I rely on results.”
She forces a smile. “We can rely on both.”
He falls silent.
She waits.
He says nothing.
She gives up first. “See you tomorrow, Shota.”
He keeps walking.
She stays behind, her smile slipping once she knows he cannot see her.
Nemuri pulls her into an empty corner with all the subtlety of a bulldozer.
“What,” Jessa asks.
Nemuri crosses her arms. “You two were practically sparking in the gym. I expected you to kiss or kill each other.”
Jessa covers her face with both hands. “Please. Not now.”
“He looks like a cat that heard thunder every time you walk into a room,” Nemuri says. “What happened between you two”
Jessa shakes her head. “Nothing you want to hear.”
Nemuri softens. “Then tell someone eventually. Preferably him. Because this tension is going to light the school on fire.”
Jessa laughs weakly.
Nemuri hugs her without asking. “You are not alone, sea princess. Not this time.”
Jessa’s breath catches.
No.
She is not alone.
But the boy she once loved looks at her like she is a ghost.
Jessa and Midoriya
The next morning’s Rescue Tactics class goes smoothly, though Jessa can feel the whispers circulating through the room. The students are too polite to comment openly, but she catches Jiro and Kaminari watching her with the same thoughtful suspicion one reserves for a soap opera character with mysterious backstory.
She ignores it.
Class concludes, and she dismisses them with a warm reminder about tomorrow’s mock rescue scenarios.
“Midoriya,” she calls just as Izuku starts packing his notebook, “could you stay for a moment”
He jolts. “Yes. Yes ma’am. I mean yes, Shimizu sensei. I mean yes is fine.” He bows too many times in a row and nearly drops his backpack.
She hides a smile. “Take a breath.”
He freezes mid-bow, inhales sharply, and rights himself. “Sorry. I am sorry. I just did not expect you to want to talk to me.”
“I wanted to talk to you yesterday,” she says gently, “but the timing after battle training was not ideal.”
He nods, hugging his notebook to his chest. His eyes are wide and worried. She recognizes that look. A kid who carries too much on shoulders that are still growing.
When the last student leaves, she leans against the desk and folds her arms loosely.
“Midoriya,” she begins softly, “I know what you are carrying.”
His breath catches. “What I am… carrying”
She nods. “One For All.”
He freezes like someone hit pause on his nervous little world.
“Y… you know,” he whispers, voice cracking.
“Yes,” she says. “I have known about One For All for many years. Long before All Might found you.”
He sways slightly, overwhelmed. “Does… does Aizawa sensei know”
“No,” she says firmly. “And that is important. The fewer people aware of the truth, the safer you remain. All Might trusted me with this long ago. And he brought me back to Japan in part because of you.”
Izuku stares, stunned. “Because of me”
She smiles gently. “He knew you would need support. Not just strength training or quirk control. Emotional support. Guidance. Someone who understands the weight of a legacy even if they do not wield it themselves.”
He looks down. “Sometimes I feel like I am failing it.”
She steps closer and tilts her head, catching his gaze.
“You are not failing,” she says. “You are learning. You are trying. You are growing faster than most adults do.”
Izuku’s throat tightens. “Heroes are supposed to be able to save everyone. All Might did. I cannot. Not yet.”
Jessa crouches so they are eye-level.
“No hero saves everyone,” she says. “Not even All Might. He did his best. You will do yours. That is enough.”
His eyes fill with tears he tries to blink away. “But what if I mess up. What if I am not worthy of his power”
She touches his shoulder with steady reassurance. “You are worthy because you ask that question. Power given to someone reckless is dangerous. Power given to someone mindful is hope.”
He lets out a shaky breath.
“And I will help,” she adds. “Anytime you need guidance. Anytime you doubt yourself. You do not have to do this alone.”
His voice cracks. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Shimizu sensei.”
“You can call me Jessa outside of class,” she says warmly. “But only when All Might is not listening. He gets sentimental.”
Izuku laughs through his tears. “I did not think anyone else knew.”
“Very few do,” she says. “Now go. Eat lunch. Hydrate. Breathe.”
He bows again, this time with purpose rather than panic, and leaves the room with his heart a little steadier.
Jessa stays behind, watching the doorway long after he disappears.
She remembers being fifteen.
She remembers carrying more secrets than joy.
She remembers Shota’s eyes soft and worried as he told her she mattered.
Now she will be that voice for someone else.
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