Aizawa likes being a teacher.

He doesn't like the mess that kids make without even realizing it. He doesn't enjoy when Kaminari loses another pencil in class and interrupts the entire lecture. He doesn't like when Ashido and Sero try sharing exam answers. He despises when Iida and Midoriya get into debates about heroism when it's Aizawa's time to talk.

More, he likes having a responsibility to handle. That he's able to handle. He likes looking out at the cafeteria at lunch and seeing his students all okay, uninjured and eating and being kids.

He likes grading papers, even if he has to read both Midoriya's and Yaoyorozu's essays, which always go over the character limit he sets for them specifically. And even if the next day, when asked about his essay, Kaminari and Aoyama both have the same story that one of Kouda's imaginary dogs ate it.

He likes to test his students. He questions their morals and beliefs about the society they'll one day contribute to. He tests their physical prowess and their will to do things. Adaptability, intelligence, critical thinking, reaction times. He loves making sure they're gonna be okay when they one day leave him.

His caring extends beyond physicalities, though.

Aizawa made a list, just four months into the year. He typed out each of his students' names, printed the paper and taped it to the inside of his binder. After that, he announced that he would be open to talking with his students, since he could relate to what they go through. There was no shame in needing to vent.

He added a line each time a student came. Just so he could keep track. If a parent asked, or if a student wondered. If Aizawa thought that maybe, a student who visits a lot might need more help than he can give.

The sheet filled, multicolored pen marks on each name, the more talkative students in class came more often, the quieter ones had more to talk about. Even if in the meetings, it was just a few words, a cup of tea, and a nice setting in his dorm office, the students seemed to appreciate it just about as much as Aizawa did.

More shit went down, exams, a kidnapping, a retrieval, threats to the school, bullying.

The fall of the number one hero.

That one had his schedule busy with meetings for his kids.

He never minded it.

One name was never filled, as worrying as it is, it's not like he can force him to come and talk.

Aizawa doesn't need to, not with the boy standing in his open doorway after curfew, phone gripped tightly in his hand and bangs hanging to hide his face.

"Todoroki?"

Todoroki's knuckles turn white as he gives a brief squeeze to his electronic. "I... need a second opinion on something."

Aizawa had a moment of relief when he saw Todoroki. But the kid probably just needs help with homework.

"Why the middle of the night?"

Todoroki crosses his arms, looking to the side. "I can leave if you're implying you want me gone."

Aizawa sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, come in."

Todoroki steps into the office, sitting down in an offered chair. Aizawa clears his desk, moving a pile of worksheets and a cup of pens to make room for his arms.

"It's my father," Todoroki starts without any prompting. "He keeps contacting me and I need to know what he wants."

Aizawa tilts his head, "'Contacting' you? You mean texting you?"

Todoroki cringes to himself, "And calling."

He unlocks his phone and pushes it on the desk, into Aizawa's hands. "You can read all of it."

That's a lot of trust to put in a teacher, Aizawa thinks. Still, he picks the phone up -god, phones are so much bigger than when he was a kid- and scrolls through a chat between Endeavor and Todoroki.

Besides the fact that Todoroki calls his father by his hero name, Aizawa sees nothing too odd about it.

Aizawa isn't sure what Todoroki wants. To talk about how he's in a fight with his dad?

"Kid-"

Todoroki shakes his head, "Go through the ones from this past year."

Aizawa exhales fairly louder than he intends, but scrolls onward, none of the texts from Todoroki. Only Endeavor sends a message, the time stamps say they're sent every hour, almost like a schedule. Every day, consistently annoying.

It goes on like that for a while, just Endeavor begging for Todoroki to answer the phone, missed calls adding up.

Aizawa scrolls to the top, as far as he can go before his thumb grows tired. September.

October. November.

Aizawa hands the phone back to Todoroki, "You said you wanted an opinion from me?"

Todoroki tucks his phone into his pocket, crossing his arms, "You're similar to Endeavor, I want to know if you think this is okay."

Aizawa's head draws a blank when trying to think up similarities between him and the number one hero. "How are we similar?"

Todoroki, without missing a beat, says, "You're both older men, you're both UA alumni, you're both heroes. For me, that's similar enough."

With a sigh, "Go on, then."

Todoroki refuses to look Aizawa in the eye, "Do you think... it's okay to forgive someone for maltreatment?"

Aizawa shrugs, "Forgive, yea. Just don't let yourself get pulled into that kind of thing again, is my advice." But what does that have to do with Endeavor? What did he do that was so horrible, he had to apologize over the span of over three months?

"What are you trying to forgive him for?"

Todoroki scoffs, which is completely out of character for him. "I'm not trying to do anything for him. I know I won't forgive him." He takes a deep breath, tired from the topic. "I'm just wondering if it's okay that he thinks I should. I've been trying to figure out what happened and why he's suddenly changing since All Might fell. And I think that's it. But it's been eating at my brain and he won't stop texting me and I snapped and came to talk to you."

That's the most Todoroki's talked so openly.

That's the most Todoroki's talked all at once.

Aizawa scratches his neck, "I don't know the full story, kid. It's not really my place to analyze your dad like that."

Todoroki is quiet for a long few moments. It seems like hours that he sits, thinking. Aizawa isn't sure what he would say if he had the guts to speak up. Todoroki's younger out of the two, but he exerts a presence even Aizawa gets overwhelmed by. He's all cold intimidation, even if he gets heated in arguments.

"If I..." he pauses, retrying. "If I were to... tell you. Would you tell me what you think is going on inside his head? And if I should indulge it or not?" Todoroki swallows thickly, eyes searching for approval from his homeroom teacher.

And Todoroki's just a kid. He's only fifteen, even younger than most of his classmates.

"I'll try my best."

Doesn't he deserve help, too?