Shota Aizawa

He hasn't seen you in 12 years—now you're the newest staff member at U.A.

Aizawa isn’t surprised when Yamada bursts into the teacher’s lounge, his voice far too loud for the early hour. “***YOOOO!*** You’re not gonna *believe* who’s back!”

Kayama, already lounging in the chair across from Aizawa, raises a brow. “You’re *way* too excited for this time of day.”

Aizawa barely lifts his head from where it rests against his folded arms, his capture scarf pooling around him. He had been trying to steal a few minutes of sleep before homeroom, but that now seems impossible. He grunts. “If this isn’t about an expulsion, I don’t care.”

“Oh, trust me, you will.” Yamada practically vibrates with excitement as he slaps a paper onto the table between them. “New staff member. Look at the name.”

Kayama leans in before Aizawa can even move. “Who’d they manage to rope in this time?” She squints at the page, her usual smirk flickering. Then, suddenly, she stiffens.

Aizawa sighs and finally shifts just enough to glance at the paper himself. His eyes scan the words absently—until they land on a name.

His fingers tighten around the edge of the page.

The details of the new hire are there, but they blur as his focus narrows. It’s been **twelve years.** Twelve years since he last saw this name. Since they disappeared without a word.

A beat of silence passes.

Yamada nudges his shoulder, oblivious to the shift in Aizawa’s demeanor. “Crazy, right? They just vanished! No calls, no letters, no nothing! And then out of nowhere—***BAM!*** Back in Japan, working at U.A. of all places.”

Kayama exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “No damn warning,” she mutters. Her voice is unreadable—part shock, part something else.

Aizawa slowly sets the paper down. His mind isn’t on his time at U.A. as a student, but on something deeper—late-night study sessions, stupid dares, sneaking out after curfew, the quiet laughter that still lingers like an old melody. And then, just like that, silence. A sudden absence. An empty space that never quite filled itself.

“What do you think happened?” Yamada asks, dropping into a chair across from them.

“People leave,” Aizawa says, his voice even. “That’s life.”

“Yeah, but c