An Aizawa Shota–focused chapter centered on the USJ fight, where training collapses into chaos and instincts take over.
What begins as a routine training exercise quickly spirals into something far more dangerous. In the chaos, instincts take over, old bonds resurface, and the line between professional duty and personal fear blurs. Jessa and Aizawa are forced to confront how deeply their past still shapes their reactions in the present. When training turns into terror, survival isn’t the only thing at stake.
Chapter 4: When Training Turns Into Terror
The bus ride to USJ is filled with energetic chatter. Jessa walks beside the students as they line up, listening to Kaminari and Sero argue about which disaster zone will be the coolest.
Uraraka notices her smile and asks, “Sensei, did you train in places like this when you were a student”
Jessa laughs. “Not exactly. But Aizawa liked to drag us into dangerous places and call it educational, so it was similar.”
Midoriya lights up. “You knew Aizawa sensei back then”
“Yes,” she answers simply.
Bakugo snorts. “Figures. He is weird. You look weird too.”
“Thank you,” Jessa replies cheerfully. “That is a compliment to me.”
Shota, walking ahead, pretends he did not hear the exchange. The subtle twitch in his shoulders betrays it.
Thirteen welcomes them with an excited wave, and they begin filing inside.
Jessa catches up to Shota at the back of the line.
“Are you ready for this training session” she asks in a quiet, teasing tone.
“I am always ready.”
“You could try sounding enthusiastic. Just once.”
He shoots her a sideways look. “My enthusiasm is none of your concern.”
“Oh, it absolutely is.”
For a moment, something flickers in his eyes. Something frustrated and warm and lost.
But he turns his head away.
They walk in silence the rest of the way.
The Warp
It happens too fast.
One moment Thirteen is explaining rescue protocols. The next, a black mist spirals across the center platform. Malevolent energy pulses through the dome.
Mineta screams. Kaminari panics. Midoriya’s breath shortens.
Jessa’s eyes widen. “That is not part of the exercise. Students, get back.”
Shota steps forward, scarf already uncoiling. “Villains. Thirteen, evacuate immediately.”
Kurogiri’s voice wafts through the black fog. “Welcome, students of UA.”
Jessa reacts instantly.
A deep hum vibrates around her as she summons water from the air. A massive semi-circular barrier forms in front of a cluster of students, shimmering and thick like liquid crystal.
The warp expands, sending students scattering.
“Sensei, we are being separated!” Kaminari yells.
“Stay together!” Jessa commands.
A wave of black mist engulfs half the class. They vanish, screaming.
Shota curses under his breath and leaps forward. “Shimizu. Hold the center.”
“Yes,” she snaps, because this is war and she knows exactly what her role is.
Battle Ignites
Shota dives straight into the crowd of villains with reckless precision. Erasure crackles in his eyes. One quirk after another shuts down as he lashes enemies with his binding cloth.
“Idiot,” Jessa mutters with affection and fury all at once. “Going alone.”
She launches forward, water spiraling around her like a comet tail. A villain with razor-sharp claws charges her. She flexes one hand, sending a condensed water blade toward his feet. He slips, crashing into another villain.
She does not stop.
A resonance burst ripples from her chest, throwing three attackers backward.
“Nice work, Shimizu sensei!” Uraraka shouts from behind cover.
“Stay down and stay safe,” Jessa answers.
She leaps over rubble and lands beside Shota without thinking. Her hip bumps his. A small shock runs through them both.
He glances at her, surprised. “You followed.”
“You are welcome.”
“This was unnecessary.”
“You are welcome.”
He almost sighs. “Watch your left.”
She pivots, water lashing outward, knocking a villain unconscious. Their movements sync like old choreography. They fall into rhythm, each anticipating the other’s actions before they happen.
Fifteen years disappear in an instant.
Jessa’s heart aches.
He moves with her as if no time passed at all.
Shota’s chest tightens.
She is stronger than he remembers. Beautiful in her control. Terrifying in her precision.
And yet she still takes risks.
“Stay behind cover,” he snaps.
“Not a chance.”
“You are reckless.”
“You love that about me.”
He freezes for half a second, opening him to a strike. Jessa deflects it before it can land.
“Focus,” she warns softly.
He grits his teeth. “Do not say things like that.”
Shigaraki’s Arrival
A suffocating stillness settles over USJ. Villains surround them. Water drips from shattered pipes, echoing like a countdown.
Then he appears.
Shigaraki steps forward with a childlike tilt of his head, fingers twitching beside the severed hand mask on his face. His presence feels wrong, unstable, hungry.
“So many pieces on the board,” he murmurs. “But I only need one teacher. Maybe two.”
Shota shifts forward instantly, blocking Jessa with his arm. “Stay back. Your quirk is too much of a variable here.”
“No.” Jessa plants her feet. “You are already injured. I am not letting you fight him alone.”
Shota grabs her wrist, grip tight and desperate. “Jessa. Get away from him.”
She recognizes it.
Fear.
Not for himself.
But for her.
Before she can answer, Shigaraki lunges. Shota pushes her aside and takes the brunt of the attack. His binding cloth wraps around Shigaraki’s wrist, halting his decay from reaching Shota’s skin, but the villain wrenches violently, tearing the scarf.
Jessa reacts with a feral sound she does not recognize as her own.
A blast of water surges from behind her, spiraling into a resonant strike that slams into Shigaraki’s side and sends him skidding across the tiles.
Kirishima, watching from behind rubble, gasps. “Whoa. Who knew Shimizu sensei had that kind of fire.”
Shigaraki rises slowly. Blood trickles from where Jessa struck him. He touches it, curious.
“You hit me,” he says. “Interesting.”
Jessa’s body vibrates with adrenaline and fury. “Stay away from him.”
Shota forces himself to stand beside her, swaying slightly. “You should not have followed me in.”
“You should not be dying today,” she fires back. “I am not losing you too.”
For a moment, something raw and startled flickers in his eyes.
Shigaraki interrupts with a playful sigh. “Sentiment is boring. Let us break something.”
He moves.
Shota counterattacks, erasing Shigaraki’s quirk the instant their eyes meet. Jessa takes the opening, releasing a condensed spear of water that whistles through the air. Shigaraki dodges, but not completely. It pierces his shoulder.
He laughs. “You two are fun.”
More villains swarm them. Shota’s breathing grows ragged. Jessa’s energy falters. Her vision blurs from overuse. Still, she fights toward him.
Shigaraki slips past them both and claws Shota across the face. The sound is wet and sickening. Shota drops to one knee, blood pouring down his cheek.
“Shota.” Jessa’s scream tears from her chest. “Get up. Please get up.”
He tries. Fails. His eyes flicker.
“No,” she whispers shakily. “Not again. I cannot watch this again.”
She steps in front of him as Shigaraki approaches. She spreads her arms wide, water spiraling upward like a shield.
“Come through me first,” she says.
He reaches for her.
Jessa draws every drop of moisture from the air she can reach. The resonance builds. Her ribs ache. Her head spins.
Shigaraki smiles. “You will break first.”
Then the air trembles.
The doors explode open.
All Might arrives like a force of nature. “I AM HERE.”
The battlefield shatters around them.
Jessa collapses to her knees, arms shaking, water dissolving into a fine mist. She crawls to Shota, turning him gently onto his back.
His good eye blinks open. “You are reckless,” he whispers.
“So are you,” she answers through sobs. “Why do you always jump in alone”
His fingers twitch as if he means to reach for her but cannot. “You did well.”
That is all he manages before unconsciousness drags him under.
Jessa does not let go of his hand until paramedics force her to.
Hospital
Shota looks impossibly small in the hospital bed. Pale. Still. Wrapped in bandages that wind around his face and ribs. Machines beep in a slow, steady rhythm beside him.
Jessa stands in the doorway for several breaths before she forces herself to step inside.
Recovery Girl nods once, allowing her a few minutes.
When she moves closer, Shota’s remaining eye opens faintly.
“You again,” he murmurs.
“Me,” she replies softly. “Always me.”
He tries to straighten, winces instead. “Are the students safe.”
“Yes,” she says. “Because of you. Because of what you did.”
His gaze flickers, searching her expression. “And you.”
She sits in the chair beside his bed. “I am fine.”
“You should not have followed Shigaraki,” he says quietly.
“You should not have jumped into a swarm of villains alone,” she answers.
Something like a tired exhale escapes him. “You are impossible.”
“You scared me,” she whispers. “I thought I lost you.”
He looks away at the ceiling. “I am not that easy to kill.”
“Shota.”
He goes still.
Jessa draws a slow breath, her fingers curling over the blanket. “Earlier… during the fight… you called me Jessa.”
He freezes. The faintest tremor runs across his jaw.
She continues gently. “You have been calling me Shimizu since the moment I arrived. But when Shigaraki went for you, you said my name.”
A long silence settles over the room.
Shota’s voice is rough when he finally speaks. “It was an instinct.”
“An honest one,” she says quietly.
His eye shifts to her face, guarded but soft around the edges. “I was not thinking clearly.”
“No,” she agrees. “You were terrified.”
His breath catches almost imperceptibly. He looks away, but she sees the truth in the tension of his shoulders.
“Jessa,” he says again, barely audible. “Stay away from danger like that. Do not put yourself between us like that again.”
She reaches for his hand before she can stop herself. “I will not watch you die. Not again.”
Something breaks inside him. A crack. A breath. A flicker of pain that is too raw and too old.
He does not pull his hand away.
“You fought well today,” he says after a long silence.
“You scared me half to death,” she answers.
“I scare everyone.”
“Not me,” she says. “Just today.”
His lips twitch faintly, almost a smile, before his gaze shadows again.
She rises slowly. “Rest. I will be here when you wake up.”
He swallows. “Do what you want.”
But he does not release her hand until sleep drags him under.
Midnight Conversations
Jessa’s apartment is dim and quiet. The city hums outside her window. She sits curled on her couch, numb with exhaustion.
A knock at the door breaks the silence.
Nemuri slips inside without waiting. “I brought snacks and wine. You look like you need both.”
Jessa tries to smile but fails. Nemuri sits beside her and studies her face.
“Tell me,” she says softly.
Jessa exhales shakily. “He almost died. I saw him on the ground and everything inside me just stopped. It felt like I was seventeen again.”
Nemuri puts a hand on hers. “Jessa. He is alive.”
“For how long” Jessa whispers. “He keeps throwing himself into danger. He does not care if he lives or dies.”
“Not true,” Nemuri says firmly. “If anything, he cares too much.”
Jessa laughs weakly. “He hates me, Nemuri.”
“No. Not even close.”
Jessa shakes her head. “He pushed me away. Back then… when I told him I loved him.”
Nemuri’s eyes widen. “You confessed to him”
Jessa nods. “On the rooftop. After Oboro died. I told him I loved him. He shut down. Completely. Stopped talking to me. I thought he hated me. Maybe he still does.”
Nemuri grips her shoulders. “Listen to me. Shota Aizawa has never hated you. He talks about you when he thinks no one is listening. He never dated anyone. Not once. Do you really think he is indifferent”
“I thought he would be married by now,” Jessa says brokenly. “Some tall, gorgeous supermodel. Someone who is not… me.”
Nemuri snorts. “Jessa. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are everything he admires. He never moved on because he never got over you.”
Jessa covers her face. “Then why does he act like he cannot stand me”
“Because he is terrified,” Nemuri answers softly. “Of losing you. Of what happened to Oboro. Of history repeating. He cannot bear the thought of caring for someone only to watch them die.”
Jessa’s tears spill freely. “I blame myself for Oboro. I always have. And I think Shota does too.”
Nemuri takes her hands. “No. Jessa. If Shota blamed you, he would not look at you the way he did today when you were fighting. I saw it. He thought he was going to lose you. That scared him more than anything else.”
Jessa lets out a broken sound. “Nemuri. I still love him.”
“I know,” Nemuri whispers. “And I think he still loves you too. He just does not know how to let himself.”
Nemuri pulls her into a tight hug. Jessa breaks completely, crying into her friend’s shoulder while Nemuri holds ;her steady as the weight of years finally cracks open.
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