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Shōta hasn’t really given much thought to Nedzu’s newest hire.
Although it is a surprise that Calculate actually managed to retire instead of, as most of the staff had bet, and Nedzu was more than likely attempting to facilitate, dying at his desk from a rage-induced apoplexy.
But the retirement of the angriest man Shōta has ever met aside, the replacement of the head of the Analysis Department hasn’t really garnered too much of Shōta’s attention.
It is strange that Nedzu has been playing the identity of his newest hire so close to the vest, though.
But, to be completely fair, it is Nedzu.
Shōta gave up attempting to figure out how his mind works years ago out of self-preservation.
It’s generally just safer to wait and then roll with whatever new punch Nedzu sends in his direction.
So, unlike the rest of the staff, Shōta hasn’t bothered to engage in the gossiping and speculation as to who the new department head will be.
That being said, even Shōta has to admit to being surprised when Nedzu introduces their newest colleague and Dekiru walks in.
The rising star of the pro hero circuit, the man whose rocket-boosted journey up the charts has more than once been compared to All Might himself.
The Can Do Hero himself.
Staring over the edge of his coffee cup at the shy but still beaming smile shining from Dekiru’s face, Shōta is sure that this is going to end up being far more trouble than it’s worth.
~~~
Shōta manages to make it two entire days without having to speak to his newest coworker.
It’s nothing personal really, except for the fact that Shōta personally doesn’t see the need to go out of his way to interact with people.
Dekiru, or Midoriya as he had introduced himself, seems … sweet.
All bright smiles and the type of can-do attitude that Shōta can appreciate, but preferably from a distance.
It’s only on day three of Midoriya’s time at UA that they really interact one-on-one.
Shōta makes his way into the staff room, mind working over whether or not Nedzu would give him too hard of a time for slimming his surviving nine homeroom students down to a rounder eight.
Midoriya is sitting at his new desk which, contrary to the dark corner of the staff room Calculate used to haunt, Nedzu had moved to sit directly beside Shōta’s own desk the day before Midoriya had arrived.
Which, of course, leaves Shōta trapped between Midoriya and Hizashi, two loud, bright individuals, because Nedzu is not so secretly a sadist and Shōta has long since been one of his favorite playthings.
Shōta’s settled and working through the essays for his ethics class when Midoriya lets out a sigh that, while not truly loud, carries enough audible disappointment that it catches Shōta’s attention.
When he turns to look, Shōta notices that Midoriya’s face is scrunched up in an expression of frustration so dark that even Shōta can tell it’s out of character for him.
“Something wrong?” Shōta asks, curious despite himself.
“Hm?” Midoriya hums, obviously distracted, before he drags his attention up off of his papers and onto Shōta. “O-Oh, Eraserhead! No, no everything is … fine.”
Shōta doesn’t have to be Tsukauchi to know that’s a lie.
He doesn’t call Midoriya out on it though, instead he just looks at him.
Shōta has enough experience waiting Hizashi out to know how this is going to go.
Midoriya, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a move Shōta can’t help but track, squirms in his seat.
“It’s just,” Midoriya breaks a few seconds later, “I’m going over the performance reviews for 2-B again in preparation for my sit-down sessions with the students and it’s still just … not what I was expecting.”
“Harder than you thought?” Shōta asks, well-versed in Calculate’s various rage-filled rants. The man had been one of the best analysts Shōta has ever met, but even he had waxed apocalyptically over the difficulty of analyzing so many hero students in so little time. Shōta’s not surprised that Midoriya, Nedzu’s hire or not, might be having trouble adjusting.
“Oh no,” Midoriya waves a dismissive hand. “The analysis is the easy part. Besides the sit-down sessions I have all of the analysis for the hero students complete already so Nedzu has agreed to allow me to offer analysis for the other departments as well. After that’s done I’m sure he’ll find something else for me to do.”
Shōta blinks.
Blinks again.
Well alright then.
Shōta’s suddenly much more certain as to why Nedzu hired Midoriya.
“What’s the issue then?” Shōta’s intrigued now.
“2-B is full of excellent students with fascinating quirks,” Midoriya rushes to say, something earnest in his expression as he turns to face Shōta fully. “I’m sure they’ll all go far.”
Shōta can hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere.
“And I’m sure Kan-san is an excellent teacher,” Midoriya continues.
Shōta perks up, setting his pen aside and moving his own chair so that he and Midoriya are practically knee to knee.
“But?” Shōta asks leadingly.
“These performance reviews are all so,” Midoriya seems to be debating his word choice for a moment, “basic. And I don’t mean to-to disrespect your friend…”
“Don’t insult me,” Shōta cuts in. “I have better taste than to be friends with Vlad. Keep going.”
To Shōta’s surprise, Midoriya actually grins, a surprisingly sharp expression cutting across his sweet face.
“I know his own quirk control and applications are,” Midoriya’s face twists up into a moue of distaste, “simple, but to see it influencing the students so deeply is depressing.”
“Go on,” Shōta leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his steepled fingers.
“There’s just so much the students could be doing,” Midoriya leans forward too, expression lighting up. “So many ways they could be expanding their quirk use and their physical training but they’re just not. They’re all so bland, just like Kan-san.”
“Tell me more,” Shōta commands, taken in by the way excitement makes Midoriya’s eyes even brighter.
“Did you know he doesn’t even have them working on flexibility?" Midoriya asks, tone scandalized as he scoots even closer to Shōta, their knees bumping against each other.
“No,” Shōta denies, hands dropping as he leans forward. “The absolute idiocy.”
“That’s what I said!” Midoriya agrees, hands reaching out to grab Shōta’s, shaking them just a bit in the small space between them. “He’s just so so…”
“Irritating,” Shōta offers.
“Inefficient,” Midoriya finishes at the same time.
“Yes./Yes!” They both exclaim.
For a moment they sit there, hands clasped, staring into each other’s eyes.
“You should call me Shōta,” Shōta finds himself saying. “And let me take you out for coffee.”
“O-Oh,” Midoriya goes red, a sweet flush blossoming across the biteable apples of his cheeks. “Then you should call me Izuku and I-I’d really like that.”
“This is cute and all,” Vlad cuts in from across the room, “but I’m standing right here.”
“I know,” Midoriya, Izuku, shoots a look in Vlad’s direction that Shōta can only describe as a mix of pity and light disdain. “And if you’d learn not to lock your knees like that you’d be able to do that more efficiently too.”
Vlad makes a high-pitched sort of noise but Shōta doesn’t focus on that.
“You’re perfect,” Shōta cuts in, bringing Izuku’s attention back to where it should be as he raises their clasped hands up to press a kiss against the back of Izuku’s knuckles. “Instead of coffee, let’s make that dinner.”
Izuku flushes sweetly and nods.
This, Shōta thinks, might just be the start of something wonderful.