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The Heroics faculty have been receiving notes. It's not an entirely uncommon occurrence; sometimes death threats get sent to the school, sometimes students have things they want to share but cannot bring themselves to say out loud, sometimes amongst themselves they have bits of gossip or reminders that they leave for each other.
Of late, however, there have been a very specific set of notes being circulated: admiration notes. They have clearly been the product of hours of work, each one a little labour of love, full of excited, yet immaculate scrawl about each hero's successes and strengths and accomplishments, taking into account charity work, rescue missions, big fights, all of it. Things like uniform reforms that Midnight paved the way for, or the international animal charities that Snipe works with; Present Mic's less than attributable helpline that operates beneath his radio show, or the fact that Nedzu has campaigned and blackmailed and manipulated his way to new laws regarding both himself and various groups of people affected by experimentation or a status given to them by their Quirks.
Not only that, but there were things about them as people, too. As teachers. How Lunch Rush makes an effort to remember students' favourite meals and will prepare them ahead of time if someone is having a bad day, about how Cementoss is unfailingly patient, even with students who have difficulty reading aloud, or how Thirteen gives the absolute best hugs, just the right amount of soft and strong.
Aizawa was not expecting to receive one.
Perhaps he should have. He's been softer this year than any other, given his Hellspawn and their troubles, and it has made him more public too, at least within the school, because everybody knows that when 1-A has trouble, he comes running. (No, he is not soft for them, dammit. They just get into too much trouble to wait around on, it would be illogical.) But that being said, he still very much keeps to himself. And the vents. Most of the students that he has never taught barely know he exists, more a figure of rumours and horror stories and the occasional underground-hopeful who tells of whatever they can figure out of his actual heroics.
The fact that all the rest of the teachers have already received a note, All Might most recently, heavily implies to the man that he won't be getting one, as though the notion wasn't already slightly absurd. Even if the note-writer is someone who has been in one of his classes, that would only leave the hellspawn or the seven third-year students that he has taught. The handwriting doesn't quite match any of them, from what Aizawa has seen (and he has seen quite a lot, given that both Nemuri and Hizashi were shoving theirs in everyone's faces, and they weren't the only ones-) and frankly he isn't sure that many of the kids would have had enough time to even manage all of these.
Nor, frankly, the intelligence. Or, rather, the combination of curiosity, diligence, and sheer knowledge required for both the admirations, and the small packets attached to each note that feature potential improvements.
There's a disclaimer first, of course, one saying that it isn't meant as criticism or condescending or anything!!, exclamations included, but rather that it's things that the author thought of that maybe the heroes might possibly like to discuss with their support teams or Nedzu or a Quirk counsellor or someone. And then there is nothing short of brilliance. The sort of thing that Aizawa rarely finds in a student, and will always want to cultivate, because it goes beyond book smarts or battle strategy, no, it's a different thing altogether, and it's not something common, particularly in the sort of teenagers who want to become heroes. The author might not be a genius, but they are still clearly intelligent, able to make logical leaps or conclusions, with a deep knowledge of Quirks and Support gear, not to mention each hero's individual attributes, patrols, and typical specialities, be it rescue, undercover or brawl-oriented.
The notes are nothing short of remarkable, and still something that Aizawa very much was not expecting to receive himself. He's underground, he's grumpy, he's barely known.
So, of course, he nearly startles when he reaches his faculty desk in the morning, over a week after All Might got his note, to find an envelope on his desk. This one is black, although still one of the hand-folded envelopes like the rest, where the tab is tucked away rather than needing to be licked closed. Even just that level of care is admirable.
Which is ironic, considering that it's clearly one of the admiration notes. And this packet appears to be the thickest of them all.
To then dump his bag and armful of paperwork, before going to slump on his usual sofa in the corner of the office by the windows (perfect for jumping out of-), is an odd but actually rather pleasant way to spend half an hour, even if he initially intended to just spend ten minutes or so skim-reading the note packet. But then he started, and he admittedly got pulled in.
This is... beyond flattering. Aizawa, logically, knows that he does a lot, both as a hero and as a teacher, and he hopes as a person too. But this goes beyond what he was even theorising might possibly come up in the unlikely event he did get one of the admiration notes.
He finds three whole rambling paragraphs about how he has a habit of rescuing stray cats. And perhaps he should be worried about having a stalker, with this level of detail.
But also there's an earnest innocence to the way that the person describes a calico kitten that they cuddled with at the shelter that Aizawa apparently brought in. (He remembers that one quite well, actually, because he'd nearly trodden on them when he was halfway through fighting a villain, and scooping them up into his capture weapon had been a pain but well worth it.) His usual shelter had taken them in without issue. Honestly, he'd nearly gone back for that one. It's good to hear that the kitten is bringing someone else some joy too.
The notes go on to talk about how much he does at school: the little stashes of snacks and blankets that he leaves with a blanket permission note for people to use them; the extra revision packs he puts together for his students; the fact that he always listens to students' specific issues and actively tries to ensure that any learning difficulties, whether psychological or circumstantial, are dealt with or at least better managed... It's a neatly-written series of five pages about both specific examples and more general actions that he takes to try and help people. Things that he doesn't do for thanks ore recognition. In a way, that makes it feel even better to have them so enthusiastically discussed here.
Aizawa actually finds himself very flattered indeed. Normally he loathes attention, but there is such care here, not a single line of ink out of place, not a single thought only half-considered, and it only gets impossibly better to read the Quirk comments at the end.
This isn't only observant, or clever, or creative, it's... it's truly brilliant, nothing short of, and Aizawa isn't prone to giving out idle compliments. Quite the opposite.
But their theories, correct or otherwise, about the mechanics of his Quirk, about the categorisations of Quirks full-stop and how that affects the people he can or can't erase the Quirks of, about the psychology of his fighting and how he learnt his techniques, even, are all astounding, and it's all in great enough detail with a level of Quirk Theory that it pushes Aizawa's own relatively advanced understanding of the topic to its limits. It's clearly a special interest of theirs. It's kind of nice to see, honestly.
Students rarely share their special interests like this. Assuming, of course, that these notes are written by a student, but that seems pretty inevitable, unless it was a friend or family member of one of them. There's an almost childish earnestness to them that tells of someone young though, no matter the incredible depth in them.
So to be holding a total of fourteen pages about him and his heroics, when it's so clearly an absolute passion of their anonymous writer, is something of a honour. It's like holding their heart in his hands. And Aizawa, for all that he has saved a lot of people, has taught a lot of future heroes, has been rarely afforded such a blatant vulnerability, such a needless show of trust. (Something in his chest, one that is reserved for his husband and his cats and his hellspawn, throbs, warms, settles. He may not be a hero for the gratitude, but that does not mean that to have such true faith from someone, such admiration, is not very much a wonderful thing.)
He doesn't have time to read the entirety of the note packet before too many of the rest of the faculty start piling in. And Aizawa has no interest in getting teased for being distracted (nor for the slight flush beneath his stubble or the outright fascination undoubtedly in his eyes-) nor in having his packet stolen and crowed over by his idiot colleagues, so he shuffles the papers in amongst some of his own and levers back to his feet. He doesn't breathe a word of the notes all day, simply ensuring that they stay safe and with him the whole time, waiting until he gets home that night to read them over more fully. And, on top of that, to perhaps see if he can figure out who sent them. Although, given the trust that they've shown in him, and their clear preference for anonymity, maybe he shouldn't choose to actively pursue their identity...
It doesn't take much thought at all for Aizawa to make a decision. And by lunchtime the next day, every single one of his little nooks has a note pinned in it, a simple thing indeed:
'Thank you, Anonymous' To most people, it may seem like gratitude towards whoever set these up, but Aizawa is quite sure that their note-writer will know what it means. He hopes so, at least.
They deserve some appreciation in return.
(Izuku, in the vents above, smiles to himself when he watches Aizawa-sensei read the notes and soften or ponder with every page and paragraph, the teen's shoulders slumping in relief. That was the note that he put the most effort into, admittedly, because Aizawa-sensei has been something for him that nobody else has ever been. He admired Eraserhead for a long, long time, enough that there's even a scarf tucked away in some of his kid things, a long white one that he wore for over a year straight when he was eight, no matter how hot it got that summer.
Suffice to say, he adores his heroes. Every single one of them. Some of them, mostly Toshinori and Aizawa-sensei, have a very personal level of heroism for him, but all of them are brilliant either way. It's just that Izuku spends even more time admiring them than any of the others, admittedly, because they're so amazing. So for them to all seem so happy, or at least intrigued by, the packets he's been leaving them... Izuku had been so glad. So happy.
He had been really, honestly worried about it. Particularly about Aizawa-sensei. But his homeroom teacher had actually seemed interested, and maybe even a little flattered, and nothing could have delighted Izuku more.
One day, he might tell his heroes that it was him who wrote the notes. Maybe he'll even dare to sign them if he writes more. Or maybe Nedzu, who has undoubtedly figured it out because of Izuku frequenting the vents if nothing else, will decide to spill the beans in one of his many machinations. The fact that Aizawa-sensei left those notes in his little hidey-hole safe spots, the simple thank you messages, had meant ever so much, really, because Aizawa-sensei doesn't do anything that isn't necessary or logical, so if he went out of his way to leave those notes in a way that could only be understood by Izuku, then he must have been genuinely grateful.
Izuku can only hope that his earnest admiration will still bring such smiles when they know who it was that sent the letters.)