Thread by @aizawasbag

what if aizawa retires from both of his jobs after the war? what if he takes up a new hobby and hides it from almost everyone?

just a fluffy little fic that was clawing at my brain since yesterday morning.

no CWs

#aizawa #aizawashouta

aizawa retired after the war.

he could’ve kept teaching but the fear of something like *that* happening again to another group of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kids was too much of a risk for him. doing it once enough, and he wasn’t so sure he’d get out as lucky the next time.

so he quit. teaching and hero work. he was done, and he found himself okay with that, despite feeling immeasurable guilt that he could be doing *more*.

but he’s done enough. at least according to his friends and his therapist he has.

he’s allowed a break. and he wanted one.

the first few months of retirement were great. he took care of himself, mind, body, and soul. took walks, got a cat, trained eri how to use her quirk, mundane shit. it was nice.

and then it wasn’t.

aizawa was restless, tossing and turning at night.

walking didn’t help anymore, beating the shit out of punching bag didn’t soothe his nerves, not even talking to shinsou *about* hero work helped.

his therapist recommended a hobby. he, in typical aizawa fashion, stuck his nose up to the idea. he didn’t need a hobby.

he’s never needed a hobby, so while would he need one now?

he contemplated going back to ua as a consultant or something for a few weeks. he’d be close to eri again, and it wouldn’t make his days so dreary and stagnant.

his therapist said no. *hizashi* said no.

and when hizashi didn’t enable the idea, he knew it was probably for the best that he stayed away. maybe one day, in a few years when the trauma wasn’t so fresh, he could go back. but it was his choice to leave. and he had a reason to a leave. a good one too.

his therapist had pointed out that his skin looked healthier, his eye bags receded a little, and he seemed, despite the restlessness, happier. there was no reason to jeopardize that now.

so a hobby.

his therapist recommended painting. aizawa didn’t want to deal with the mess.

hizashi recommended going to a studio to paint. aizawa just really didn’t want to paint.

he and hizashi shot the shit, going over several different hobbies but aizawa always shot them down. reading? he already did that. photography?

he has a phone to take pictures of whiskers with. he doesn’t need any other pictures. gardening? he doesn’t want dirt in his apartment.

it was a constant back and forth that always ended with frustration and a platonic cuddling session when aizawa got too frustrated to talk.

he found a hobby eventually. whenever he went for his walks, he’d take different routes for a change of scenery and unpredictability. some habits die hard.

on a new route, he found himself walking through a more industrial area of the city.

a couple of warehouses, an electrical plant, it was rather drab but not unwelcomed. it was midday but there was little foot traffic. a nearby warehouse had smoke coming out of it. a lot of smoke. a *concerning* amount of smoke.

so he checked it out.

the warehouse wasn’t on fire. there were people inside, shouting and sweating. it reeked of sweat and smoke, but aizawa just stood and watched as different groups of people worked around each other.

he didn’t know how long he stood there but the second someone pulled out a glowing-red vase, perfectly formed, and broke it off the long stick it was attached to, he was walking further inside.

he found someone who wasn’t busy, just sketching, and he asked what they were doing.

“blowing glass.”

aizawa went to his therapist the next session primed with a ton of information and said “i’m going to blow glass.”

his therapist gave him a short round of applause and somewhere deep inside of himself, he preened.

the very next day, he went to a shop front in the city. the person he had talked to in the warehouse said they were commercial glassblowers. they gave him a few different locations in the city’s downtown that was open to casual fans of the hobby and had introductory classes.

for as set as he was on it, aizawa was skeptical of the validity of his interest. what if he ended up hating it? at the very least, he could say to his therapist that he tried.

he didn’t hate it.

aizawa went back the next day. and the day after that. and the day after that.

aizawa found that he really enjoyed glassblowing. it was labor intensive at times and took some mental fortitude. he was dedicated to creating things he was proud of, and he was always trying to get better. it was like heroism.

and better yet, there was a near 0 chance of war.

he wasn’t the best, but he was okay with that. he didn’t need to be the best to create something he was happy with.

he hit a rut eventually once he’d learn the basic and could create semi-perfect spheres. he didn’t know what to make. he was desperate not to let this fizzle out.

so he drew inspiration from the people around him. he made a little microphone for hizashi that he hid every time the man came over. there was a little purple cat on his mantle. he did his best to mimic an explosion in glass form. there was a weird swirly red and blue figure.

a puny unicorn sat on his bedside table. a glass cairn made of red rocks was in his kitchen window. a green bunny was embarrassingly stowed in his closet. his students became his muse.

and they could NEVER know.

until shinsou crashed in his apartment without him knowing.

he gave the kid a key to his home, thinking it would give him piece of mind to know shinsou had a place to land if he couldn’t make it home. shinsou had used the key a few times too. he just hadn’t used it in a while.

when he walked into his living room one thursday morning and found shinsou holding the purple cat sculpture up to the sunlight, he about died on the spot.

“shinsou.”

“where’d you get this?”

he held out the glass cat. aizawa glared at it.

“the store.”

it wasn’t a lie.

shinsou, the little shit, gave him a knowing look. he shrugged and pocketed the cat. aizawa jolted, his hand halfway reaching out to stop him. he *made* that and shinsou wasn’t supposed to know.

“oh?” the kid asked with a smug smirk. “something wrong?”

“that’s *mine*,” aizawa emphasized through gritted teeth.

“what’s with this pink alien thing right here?” shinsou asked, pointing at said creation on the mantle. aizawa swallowed harshly.

“a lapse in judgement.”

shinsou gave him a disbelieving glare. aizawa averted his gaze.

that was rude. he knew it was rude. but he didn’t take it back.

“what is all of this aizawa? you’ve never been one for trinkets and ‘irrational sentimentalities’,” shinsou questioned, mocking aizawa’s previous claims.

“i’m retired. nothing’s rational anymore,” he retorted.

the next look shinsou gave him is close to pity, but not quite. aizawa was thankful. he didn’t want pity.

“your mattress is bare, you still use that god awful sleeping bag. if you were as irrational as you want me to believe, why don’t you have sheets still?”

aizawa regretted telling shinsou so much about himself.

“it’s a work in progress. my therapist is very proud of me,” he countered, subtly tilting his nose in the air.

shinsou snorted, a good natured grin on his face. “i’m sure she is.”

“you finally got that hobby mic’s been moaning about.”

“stupid idiot,” aizawa mumbled under his breath with an eye roll. hizashi needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

“you’ve got a spending hobby. and you use it to buy cheap, imitation merch of your students.”

shinsou was proud of his assessment and aizawa held back a laugh at his naivety. aizawa had far too much money to spend money on cheap merch of his precious people when he could just get the real shit instead. he might’ve been retired, but he wasn’t senile yet.

(shinsou will never know about the chest under his bed that has all of his student’s limited edition merch sets.)

“i did a shitty job teaching you if that’s what you think this is,” aizawa snorted gesturing to the pink glass alien.

“what is it then?” shinsou asked, a coy smile on his face.

aizawa’s face dropped and he turned away from his protege. “i have eggs and week old milk.”

“go get us breakfast,” he demanded, pulling his wallet from the draw and tossing his card onto the kitchen counter.

“don’t be like that,” shinsou complained. aizawa didn’t look at him as he started the coffee machine.

“breakfast,” he answered blandly.

“and then you’ll tell me?” his student gasped, perking up so much aizawa could hear the hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“and then you leave,” he declared with finality. shinsou groaned and aizawa felt something hit the back of his head.

“get your own breakfast,” the kid pouted.

“i will,” aizawa remarked simply causing for another dramatic groan from his student.

“c’mon aizawa! you know i won’t tell anyone,” shinsou pleaded, following aizawa into his own kitchen.

“i don’t know that and you’ve already seen too much,” the older man shook his head.

“aizawa,” shinsou stated, serious. “it looks like you’re happier and like you’ve found something to dedicate your time too. you don’t have to tell me, clearly, but regardless, i am happy for you.”

aizawa paused, swooping down to pick up his credit card that shinsou rudely threw.

he took a breath and leaned against the counter. shinsou was never going to let this go.

“glassblowing. that’s my hobby,” he revealed, voice dry and flippant.

“glassblowing? that’s really fucking cool,” shinsou mumbled, sounding genuinely interested. aizawa turned to him.

he’s holding the little glass cat again and the older man resists the urge to lunge and snatch it from his hands.

“so you make all these things yourself?” the kid questioned, holding the cat up and shaking it a little. aizawa’s face tightens. what if he *drops* it?

“i do. i have nothing better to do. you’re always coming around and i’m always seeing shit about your old class so i just started making stuff themed off of you guys. now give. that. back,” he explains, his voice level until he watches shinsou precariously hold the cat up.

“why? you made it because of me. what if i wanted it,” the kid asked defensively.

“you don’t want that,” aizawa remarked, assured in his belief.

shinsou’s face dropped. “why wouldn’t i? you made it because of *me*. that’s…that’s pretty fucking cool. i’m honored, even.”

“don’t patronize me,” aizawa spat, his face turning red.

“no no no! i’m not, i promise. aizawa, you were our teacher. you led 1A through all of that shit during first year. you were there for us, and cared for us. this stuff? your little glassblowing hobby?”

“this is…sentimental in a way that i can’t really put into words but if midoriya knew you did this? and that you *made* one inspired by him—“

“i never said i did,” aizawa interrupted hurriedly, his face turning even redder and his jaw clenching to hide his embarrassment.

“doesn’t matter, i know you did. but if he knew? or todoroki? or fuck, even bakugou? they’d want the ones you made because of them. it’s a pride thing, you know? kind of shows that you’re proud of us,” the kid finished explaining, once again pocketing the cat.

aizawa couldn’t speak the words to stop him.

“of course i’m proud of you all. i would hope you know that too,” he whispered, looking away from his protege.

“we do. but we could all use a little reminder from time to time,” shinsou replied, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

aizawa glanced up at the kid and sighed. “…fine. just don’t tell anyone else, alright? i don’t want this to be a..a thing or whatever. it’s not that big of deal and they’re all shitty anyway,” he finically relented.

shinsou grinned at him.

“oh it’s going to be a thing. i won’t say anything but dude, you’ve handmade glass sculptures inspired by us. there are going to be tears. hell, todoroki might even give you a hug,” he laughed.

aizawa grimaced at the thought, but found himself not really minding the idea.

“whatever, go get us breakfast. now. and i want to know why you slept here last night,” aizawa ordered, sliding the card back over to his student.

shinsou saluted him and with a ballsy, “aye, aye captain,” ducked out of the room before aizawa could get to him.

and later that week, aizawa finally worked up the courage to message one of his students. he started with tokoyami and hoped that he wouldn’t have such an emotional reaction to a shitty glass raven he made for him.

tokoyami and his quirk teared up. it was deeply uncomfortable.

but it was nice too. he got to see one of his student he hasn’t seen in a minute.

still, if that’s how one of his more reserved students reacted, he was dreading giving midoriya the stupid green bunny.

at the very least, it spurred him on to get better at his craft.

so he could make his students things that are actually good, and not just passable.

aizawa’s hobby ended up giving his life a new, sweeter meaning and he was grateful for it.

he’s grateful for the near 0 chance of war breaking out in the studio too. that’s definitely a bonus.

~~end~~

i hope y’all enjoyed this little nonsense. i just love the idea of him finding peace while still being connected to the ones that he loves