Aizawa Reset

Chapter 2: Confused Teen

A/N: I dunno how consistent my updating will be and it also depends on the audience reaction to all this and if people actually like it lol

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An alarm was going off. And it was fucking annoying.

Whoever's that is needs to turn it the fuck off. 

Oh shit, it's his.

Aizawa let out a long sigh and began hitting around on his nightstand. Where the fuck is his alarm clock? His hand grazed a small rectangular object that was vibrating. Was that the alarm? He grumbled a few curses as he raised his head and held the object up. What the fuck is this? On the screen, there was a button that said 'dismiss' so he hit it. But like, it wasn't a button, it was a screen. And yet the button got pressed. Hmm.

He squinted for a moment before noticing the time displayed. 8:05 am. 

Fuck.

Aizawa shot up, about to run to his closet to put on his uniform when he realized this room was completely unfamiliar. A fluffy white cat sat in a cat bed by the closet with a wide, confused eyes. He didn't have a cat like that.

He looked down at what he was wearing. It was his hero costume but, like, it didn't fit him. It was extra baggy. Like not to where it was falling off but it was obviously a few sizes off. Why'd he sleep in a baggy hero costume? And why was he wearing boots to bed? Boots that were also a few sizes off. 

Aizawa shook his head. Ok, whatever, he still needs to get to class. 

But dammit, he can't find his uniform anywhere. He rested his face against his closet door in frustration. That's gonna be another write up along with the tardiness today. After a quick extra head bang into the closet door, he turned his attention to the clothes in his closet. Luckily, it was familiar, with it's wide array of variations of black and other dark colors. But none of them were his size. With a grumble of curses, he grabbed the smallest size pair of black jeans and the smallest black long sleeve shirt, slipping it on and then rummaging around until he found a belt to keep his damn pants up. 

Now where the fuck is his backpack? Nowhere, that's where it fucking is. He let out another long sigh, throwing his head back and slapping his hand on his face. 

Whatever.

What the fuck ever.

He needs to get to class.

He shoved that weird rectangle thing with the screen into his pocket 'cause, I dunno, it felt important, and stormed out of his room. And into a hallway of what seemed like a dorm building. 

Excuse me?

What the fuck is going on? He was more annoyed than anything. He began making his way out of the strange building, hands shoved deep into his pocket. Seriously, what's going on? This is so confusing and frustrating and he just wants to lay down on the ground, scream, then take a quick nap and pray that things become familiar again. He found the front door of the dorm and spotted a very familiar building outside.

He was at UA? Since when did anyone live at UA? He squinted his eyes for a moment before continuing to trudge on. 

Okay.

Whatever.

Get to class.

He got to the main school building and began making his way to his classroom. Ok, at least everything in here is familiar.

People seemed to stop and stare for a moment as he walked by. He shrunk into himself some, feeling incredibly out of place and awkward. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, they need to mind their own business and leave him be. He's just trying to get to class like all of them. But as more people took notice, his desire to just slink back to that dorm building grew more. 

His face even flushed slightly from all the attention. This is so embarrassing. He should've just stayed...wherever it was. He picked up his pace until he finally reached the 1-A classroom. Finally. He slid the door open.

Those weren't his classmates. 

He closed the door, checking the little name plate thing above the entrance. It's 1-A alright. 

What kind of fuckery is this? 

He opened the door again, staring at the sea of students who were all now at attention staring at him. His heart began to race.

First he wakes up late in some unfamiliar room. 

Then, he can't find his uniform. 

And now, he's at his classroom and it's filled with strangers.

"Aizawa-sensei?" A bright-eyed, green-haired student asked.

Aizawa's heart stopped, "Wh-what?" He breathed. Fucken sensei? What kind of topsy-turvy world has he woken up in? 

Several students began heading over towards him, which just made him lean backwards awkwardly. They began shooting questions at him.

"Mr. Aizawa, is that really you?!" "What happened to you?!" "Do you recognize any of us, sensei?" "Maybe you should go visit Recovery girl, you know?" "Have you always had those bags under your eyes?" "Sensei, why--"

"Shut up!" He yelled, holding his arms out, "I don't know who the hell you guys are and stop fucking calling me sensei!" He demanded with an exacerbated sigh, "Jesus fucking Christ, what's going on?!"

A few students snickered at his rather foul language. Yeah, he'd always been pretty upfront and unfiltered but this was on another level. 

The green-haired kid thought some, "Mr-er-uh-Aizawa, how old are you?" He finally asked, struggling to call him by just his name.

Aizawa stared suspiciously at the students, shoving his hands back in his pockets before shrugging some, "15, why?"

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A/N: If you like this, feel free to give suggestions for future chapters to fluff this fic out so you can get as much teen-zawa content you desire lol!!!

And if you have specific bnha fic ideas you wanna see, feel free to send those over too!