Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The walk from the police station to the Highschool wasn’t one Shouta liked taking, but it was one that he had taken too many times in his fairly short career as a teacher. He had made the trek more when he’d been a Private Investigator but between Hizashi and Nemuri's insisting and Nezu’s gentle but very pointed nudging he’d switched careers. 

The cold of the winter night was enough to have him tucking his scarf a little more securely around his neck and face but not enough for him to really regret grabbing his lighter coat when he'd last left his apartment. 

He’s not exactly upset about the career change.  The steady pay and more or less steady hours had helped him settle into a routine. The routine, while not close to perfect was better than nothing, and made the bad days a hair easier to see to the end. Or at least, gave him something he had to do so he couldn't just sleep the days away. 

A glance at his phone reveals it's a little after six. He'll need coffee if he's going to get through the coming day, and it's early enough that Hizashi and Nemuri won't be up to their usual mischief at the school yet. So he doesn't have to feel guilty about only getting enough coffee for himself. There's a coffee shop on his route that's always open, maybe a facet of being in the city or they just have enough late night and very early morning clientele to be open at this ungodly hour. Well, not ungodly unless you consider he's been up for almost 24 hours at this point.

A slightly longer track would take him past a bakery that caters to night owls, but the thought of stopping there turns his stomach just enough that he decides to skip the detour this time. Shouta knows he's being more than a little stupid right now. The nausea he's feeling is probably due to the fact he hasn't put anything other than coffee in his stomach in almost two days, but the will to eat has left him. 

The barista isn't much older than his current students and is probably about the same age as the kid he just left in the police station. She eyes the bags under his eyes but has the tact not to say anything about them. She gapes a little when the rest of the twenty for his coffee goes into the tip jar but doesn't say anything before he wanders back out into the cold of the streets.  

The coffee burns his cold hand. Too hot to drink and the small sleeve nowhere near enough to keep him from burning the palms of his broad hands as passes it back and forth. He cusses to himself as the coffee continues burning him mercilessly, eventually unwinding part of his scarf to act as an insulator. 

Ignoring the part of his brain that sounds suspiciously like Nemuri telling him he should have remembered to grab his gloves on the way out of his apartment he carefully tucks the scarf more securely so he can hold the coffee with both hands. 

Too warm to drink by far his coffee is almost the perfect temperature through multiple layers to keep his hands warm. 

He walks past the closed shops and still dark alleys. Occasionally stopping at each when something within catches his eyes. He's been in most of these shops before, usually while being dragged behind Hizashi or Nemuri. They both are prone to spending long (extraordinarily long) days flattering in and out of shops while dragging him behind them. 

A black cat plushie eyes him from one of the windows and he eyes it back. The only thing stopping him from going in and buying it is that the store isn't open and there's a very good chance he spent all the money he had on him on coffee. 

He spots a little canary plushie sitting among the other offerings in the window and makes a note of the name of the store for later. He'll do his best to casually mention the canary plushie to Nemuri later. She'll probably pick up the cat for herself but Hizashi would love the little canary toy. Hizashi liked joking that they both had the personalities of cats: Aizawa prone to sleeping anywhere and glaring at you from across the room, and Nemuri who would happily stare a person in the eyes while knocking over all their hard work and immediately taking people's seats when they stood up. (Aizawa privately thought of her as more of a raven personality, quick and clever but still willing to steal your shit while you're looking as long as she thinks she won't be caught. [He does agree with their assessment of him being a house cat though, that would be the life.]) Nemuri and Shouta agreed that if Hizashi were an animal he'd be some kind of bird, though they disagreed on what kind. Aizawa said Cockatiel due to his loud screaming and strange-at-times hairstyle, Nemuri called Canary due to his coloring and the fact that anytime he wasn't teaching he was singing the latest pop songs. 

The coffee burns his tongue when he tries it only minutes later, but he doesn't let something like that stop him from imbibing the caffeine-filled liquid. Despite his years of research on the subject proving otherwise, he still hisses a little at the coffeecup like it'll cool it down enough to be comfortable to drink. It doesn't help this time either, but it does make him feel a little better. 

The massive highschool rises in the distance, not quite tall enough to block out skyscrapers, but still larger than life and excessively ornate (at least in Shouta's eyes). A few more blocks and he's passing the gate to the school. No guards are at the booth, which would normally be a problem but at this point, Aizawa is just glad that he doesn't have to deal with anyone this early (late?) in his day.

He lets himself into the building, stopping briefly by the front office to pick up any mail that came to him at the school before heading up to the teacher's lounge in his wing of the school. 

Dropping onto the couch Aizawa takes a moment to just sit in the silence with his eyes closed. The school's heater isn't on very high at the moment, probably trying to save money. Unfortunately, the slightly too chilled air is enough to keep him from taking a short nap before the other teachers start arriving. He huffs before standing again. The small amount of heat he had been producing from his walk and absorbing from his still too warm coffee was enough at the moment, but he wouldn't be taking his coat off at least until he heard the heaters kick into a higher gear. 

He goes through the motions of starting the coffee maker before leaving the lounge to grab his paperwork from his usual classroom. Quickly regretting leaving the cool teacher's lounge for his colder classroom Shouta all but runs to grab the students' essays and return to the slightly less chilly room. It's not much, but at least the other room is slowly warming with the coffeemaker and it now smells like coffee which is really just icing on this very cold cake. 

He shuffles through the papers, half are already graded, but he doesn't really remember what his criteria were, or what subject he assigned the test on. 

Sighing Shouta pulls out one of the already finished essays to see what he had been looking for the last time he opened up this particular mess: grammar, spelling, whether they actually looked like they studied up on... What safe web sources look like? God what a boring subject. 

He drops the stack onto the table by the couch (Probably placed there for this exact purpose.) and rubs his face wincing slightly at the heavy stubble gracing his features. He scratches at the stubble and tries to remember if the shaving kit Hizashi had given him as a gag gift was still at the school or if he had taken it home. 

Standing again he groans, the exhaustion weighing at his limbs like those stupid wrist and ankle weights he occasionally caught Hizashi wearing. He grabs his coffeecup from the table as well. It's finally at a semi-drinkable temperature, so Shouta does his best to down the rest of it in one go. 

The shaving kit is still at the bottom of Nemuri's desk, he'd figured it would be, for someone who looked so put together she really was a mess behind closed doors, or at least in closed desks. 

The teacher's bathroom is really too well lit. Shouta had grumbled that to at least half the staff at the school, but there was nothing to be done about it. 

He glanced in the mirror and really felt his almost 30 years. The man slowly blinking back at him from the mirror had black hair that looked like it had several restraining orders from hairbrushes, his skin looked almost dead pale (Though the lack of visible veins meant he wasn't doing as badly as he could have been), the bags looked almost big enough to actually tote around his emotional baggage. The stubble really was just the exhaustion piece de resistance, at least his dark clothes didn't show the many wrinkles they could have. 

Shouta shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves despite the nip in the bathroom. A wet shirt and coat would be worse than streaking at the moment. 

He opens the kit and sets it to the side, the water he turns up as hot as it'll go. He stares into the tired depths of his own eyes for a moment, but the dark depths don't tell him anything he doesn't already know. He still looks more the PI than the amateur forensics teacher he currently is. 

He's getting towards the end of his rope. Getting burned out. He needs a change, and soon. 

The last time he changed he swapped from a private detective to a teacher. Such different careers, and he thought that would be that. That the late nights and the more or less hunting, the stalking, of other people would end, and that he'd be better able to establish a routine that would help, and that the medications would work.

It didn't work. The routine worked some, but when he pulled all-nighters to finish grading the homework it messed with him. He could focus on the students, making sure they could get the most out of his class, and be graded fairly for it. But when he focused like that he made himself suffer. 

He could pull back some, and give his students less homework, but then come the end of the term they wouldn't be able to do half the things he was trying to teach them. 

As the glass fogs over Shouta wets his face and lathers up.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s going to do regarding his students or himself. 

He’ll last out the school year at least. That’s the least he can do for this year, for these students. 

He might not come out of it in the best shape possible, but he could probably find a new, fairly interesting career path.

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

Shouta glances up to confirm who’s entering the room when he hears the door open. The principal, Nezu, is the only one who’s usually in this early other than Shouta, is exactly who he’s expecting. The man hasn’t changed terribly much since Shouta was a fifteen year old in his class. His then greying blond hair is more white now, the smile lines have only gotten deeper since then. The man is on the larger side, but the weight with the sweater vests makes him easily comparable to a teddy bear. 

“Good morning Aizawa! I hope you haven’t been here too long this morning?” Nezu asks. 

The older man makes his way to the coffee machine, carefully giving the other man a once over.

“Only a couple hours, got caught up on the homework I’ve assigned,” Aizawa responds without looking up. He doesn’t have to, to know the portly and pale man is quietly inspecting him for anything Nezu might feel worth commenting on.

“But have you been keeping up on your sleep? You look tired my friend.” Nezu stirs a frankly ungodly amount of sugar into his poor, unsuspecting coffee. There it is. 

“I’ll admit that I probably haven’t been getting as much as I should…” Shouta pauses, yeah, less than twelve hours in the last, oh week or so? Definitely not as much as Nezu would want him to get. “But there’s a drug den on 12th that I need to see taken down.” He finishes a hard edge to his words.

“Is it worth your students not getting the most out of their time at our school for your revenge project?” There’s no blame in Nezu’s words, no anger or judgment. It’s just a question asked in a way the man had been carefully cultivating over his decades of work as a teacher and then principal. 

“Since when is it bad to want to take down drug dealers?” Shouta knew the trap Nezu was setting, one he and his friends had fallen into many, many times before. 

“Since you are missing out on the necessary self-care required to keep functioning.” He simply raises his hand to cut off Aizawa when he tries to interject, “No, you aren’t even forgoing the self-care, you’re forgoing the basic necessities for your health. You are only hurting yourself when you keep going like this.” Nezu’s irritation and worry seep into his voice. Aizawa’s been a part of his life for almost fifteen years, first as a student, then a colleague. 

“Nezu-” Aizawa started, but Nezu cut him off again. 

“I beg of you, not as your superior, but as your friend and former teacher. Please, cease your self-destructive ways?” Nezu asks, worry widening and wizening his face.

Nezu doesn’t usually launch sudden desperate requests on people, he always has a plan and then three back up plans in case that one fails. Shouta isn’t sure whether this is a ploy or an honest impromptu request, but he can’t just limit himself like this. 

“Nezu,” He scrabbles for a minute to gather his thoughts, “There are so many terrible things going on here, I’m doing more good for the students this way than if I was just teaching them. This way they’ll be safe too. I know you want the best for me, I just want the best for these kids. I-” Aizawa isn’t sure where he’s going with this, but helping his students, or just kids in general are something he needs to do. 

“GOOOOD MORNING! ISN’T IT A BEAUTIFUL DAY TODAY?” Shouta’s admittedly scattered train of thought is completely blown off the rails by Hizashi, entering the room in the worst way possible. Or really just by his yelling.

“Hizashi! Literally, no one else in the room is deaf! Why are you trying to make the rest of us that way?” Aizawa claps his hands over his ears, but Nezu, either due to time or force of will manages to keep his hands on his coffee and that below waist level.

“Sorry! Lost one of my hearing aids last night and I think the remaining one’s battery is dying!” Hizashi yells, he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s yelling at this point. 

“Let’s see if there’s a spare battery here. Nezu, please understand where I’m coming from. But, thank you.” Aizawa actively turns the tall, skinny, blond man towards the door, while trying to soothe any ruffled feathers that the conversation may have caused Nezu.

“WHAT WERE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?” Hizashi yells, again, more? Forever? 

“Sh! Hizashi just Sign, you’re going to blow out somebody’s eardrums!” Aizawa is quick to shush him, the small headache he has brewing is getting stronger with every one of Hizashi’s hollered words.

Nezu, the clever man that he is, thinks about the situation that Aizawa currently finds himself in and thinks about some other problems he himself is having. As the echoes of Hizashi disappear down the hall, Nezu thinks that a solution or two to some of his own problems could be solved by getting Aizawa to help.

That is, if he could get the man to agree to something that would completely change his life.

Though it wouldn’t be the first time.

Chapter Text

Somehow, despite his best efforts over the years Shouta keeps having to return mail that isn’t his to the office. This time he ended up with Nishya’s farming magazines (why was he getting farming magazines sent to the school? That just felt odd to Shouta) so he was taking them to the main office so they could hopefully be put in the right mailslot this time. 

He felt the vibration in his pocket from the text, he only opened it long enough to see who it was from before sighing and actually reading it. 

The message from Nezu read: Would you please come to my office? I would like to discuss something with you.

Shouta mulls it over, he could conceivably put this off till the end of the day, possibly the end of the week if he was determined enough. Sighing he responds: I’ll be there shortly, is this a continuation of our conversation this morning?

He stays where he is in the hall waiting for the answer. It comes quickly enough: "In a manner. This isn’t about punishment if that’s what you are worried about." 

Shouta hadn’t been worried about that, if the man was going to punish someone he tended to do it quickly and decisively, he rarely waited. 

The walk to Nezu’s office isn’t that long from where he was, only a couple of minutes. Those minutes Shouta spent wondering how the next conversation would somehow mix with the one they had had previously. 

He knocks on the door, cracking it open just enough to be more easily heard. “May I come in?” he calls softly.

“Of course, when you said shortly it seems you really meant it,” Nezu responds jovially.

“I happened to be on this side of the school. May I ask what you need me for?” Aizawa asks cautiously. 

"An answer to a conundrum of mine has quite suddenly occurred to me," Nezu responds, he gestures for Aizawa to take a seat, and after only a moment’s hesitation he does. 

"And?” Aizawa waits a moment before prompting the other man, it seems that Nezu desperately wants him to be a part of this conversation.

"And, well, I suppose I should give you a little background. Recently the school was given a grant for an agriculture program. Unfortunately, the teacher who was supposed to lead the program had to take a sudden, extended leave of absence. I don't know when exactly he'll return and I don't currently have anyone to replace him." Nezu watches the near-instantaneous turn of gears in Aizawa's head quickly followed by a low, displeased groan.

"Please don't tell me you want ME to run the agriculture program! Nezu, I'm good at what I do in a classroom, I wouldn't know the first thing about agriculture or teaching it to kids!" Aizawa only just avoids throwing his arms about like he had when he was a teenager. He glares at Nezu like that will stop the man's plans that are likely already in action.

"I can think of no one else who learns and adapts as quickly as you do Aizawa," Nezu says honestly, "After Nishya, I can think of no one better to run this project. This doesn't have to be forever, just run the program till Nishya gets back, or the year is out. Whichever comes first. And if when the year is out, and Nishya still hasn't returned, and you still don't want to be in charge, we'll find someone else to run it."

Aizawa groans quietly, rubbing his aching eyes. “A year? I have students!”

“And when you take over the program you’ll have different students, ones who actually want to be where they are. As it is many of your current students are going to change with the changing of the quarter. The only difference is that we’ll take your current classes off the scheduling options for the Winter Quarter.” Nezu is quick to respond, he had spent the morning planning this after all.

Aizawa drops the glare so he’s just looking at Nezu with displeasure, before dropping his head into his hands to rub his eyes. 

“Teach your students for the last weeks of the Autumn Quarter. I'll send you everything Nishya had for the grant proposal and the plans he had sent to me. Come Winter Quarter you can focus on setting up the agriculture program. Then in the Spring students can sign up. You'll only get the students who have an actual desire to learn about the subject.” Nezu coaxes, he can see the smidgen of interest that Shouta has and he needs to get that smidgen to drag the rest of him on board.

Aizawa holds his hand over his eyes, but he's listening, Nezu counts that as a win. "Of course, this is all theoretical. You are currently the best teacher at this school to take over for Nishya. But if you truly don't want to, I can check with the other teachers. But I doubt any of them will be able to do as much as I believe you will in the same amount of time. And of course, if no one else is willing we'll have to return the funding that Nishya worked so hard to obtain. Take your time, think about it. It might do you some good to get some fresh air though."

“Why am I the best option for this? I think Thirteen was actually raised on a farm.” Aizawa tries to deflect this mess onto someone, anyone else.

“Thirteen is not an option because they are an extreme germaphobe and it’s quite possible they would tender their resignation if I even ask.” Nezu retorts. Shouta had known that, the fact that Thirteen pretty much never took off their protective bubble around other people was a pretty good indicator of that.

"When do you need my firm answer?" Aizawa hasn't moved. He can’t believe that he’s actually thinking about it. 

"Before the end of next week. That gives me time to gather all the materials I'll need and find others who may be able to do the job should you choose not to." Nezu answers. 

“I want to say no. That’s my immediate reaction. Well, it’s actually, ‘Hell no, I've got a life here, why the hell would I leave it just to go start a farm somewhere?’” Aizawa isn’t going to spare Nezu his current thoughts on the subject, even though he knows that Nezu will have some kind of answer to the rhetorical question.

“Because you’re very, very tired, Aizawa. You’ve been tired for almost as long as I’ve known you. The times when you’re least tired, are, quite ironically, when you’re in the early research and development phase of something big. As a student that was working towards getting your Private investigator license. When you sunk too deep into that. When Luna all but dragged you to me asking for my help. I saw you study hard to get the waiver to teach. Then I saw you work hard to get the degree so you weren’t at the whim of a waiver. Now you’re sinking again. You’re spirling again. So I’m offering you something else to turn your focus towards. At worst you have two students who drop out after a Quarter and we drop the program. At best the program is filled and you can focus on that for the next couple of years.” Nezu’s answer is one he’s been thinking about for a while. Shouta has been thinking it was time for a career change, and now one’s being dropped in his lap. 

“Boil it down for me. Why should I say yes?” Aizawa asks, hoping that the answer is something that he’ll be able to argue.

Nezu pauses for a moment before speaking. “You’ll have a chance to focus on something that isn’t life or death, that still helps students and will leave you with a feeling of fulfillment. If you accept that is.” 

“If I accept,” Aizawa repeats, unfortunately, Nezu made several good points.  

“Of course. You said it very well yourself. You’ve got a life here, why would you leave it just to start a farm? You can say no. It won’t affect how I think of you, or how anyone else here thinks of you. This is a very important decision for you to make, not just for the school, but also for yourself. Take all the time you need to make this choice. Ah, but if you come back tomorrow I’ll have a copy of the proposal ready for you to go over if you want to know what you’re getting into.” 

“Then I’m probably just going to sleep tonight and I’ll start seriously thinking it over when I read the proposal. But- thank you. For, well, everything you’ve said today. I will sincerely think about whether or not I’ll lead the program.” Aizawa stands. He nods to himself and then leaves, the offer swirls around his head like water around a drain.

Chapter Text

That night he does go home and sleep. 

In the morning he wakes before sunrise. He hasn’t moved at all in his sleep, so every part of him is stiff, and all his joints crack as he drags himself out of bed.

 It’s still early, there’s still a pack next to the window to the fire escape. So he smokes a cigarette before work, thinking about life, watching the sunrise. It’s been a while since he’s actually watched the sunrise. Everything is bloody red from the light and the smog in the air. 

“You smell like cigarettes, please tell me you haven’t started smoking again.” Nemuri greets him as he walks into the teacher’s lounge a couple of hours later. 

She’s one of his oldest friends, they met in their first year of high school and she hasn’t left him alone since. Though long gone is the slightly shy, too skinny for her long frame teenage girl. With her frame filling out so had her confidence grown, by the time they graduated she was turning heads and was eager to take advantage of it. Her dark hair and dark eyes made her seem more mysterious, the slight tint of her skin made her seem just exotic enough to draw interest. She was beautiful, Shouta had to admit it, and if he weren’t so gay he’d probably have tried to date her before. Fortunately, he was, because Nemuri picked up and dropped men and the occasional woman like they were hot rocks and never went back to people she had dropped. He was glad she was his friend, she didn’t judge him as much as other people did.

“It’s been a rough week, I’m entitled to a vice and it’s the only one that doesn’t actually affect my work.” Aizawa goes straight to the coffeepot, Nemuri is two steps behind him.

“No, it just makes you unpleasant to be around.” She retorts, pouring herself a new cup of coffee as well.

“Ow. Did you just come over here to insult me or did you actually have a good reason?” Shouta turns to his friend, leaning his hip against the counter. 

“Good reason, Hizashi and I are going out tonight, and you’re either coming along willingly or I’m going to drag you with me.” Nemuri mirrors him, ending her, well threat really, with a pointed drink. 

“So I get no choice to join you tonight?” Aizawa asks rhetorically, he knows once she’s got an idea in her head she won’t drop it.

“Nope! You’ve been too busy to hang out with your only friends , so you are being friend napped and are going to at very least have drinks with us and maybe a drunk midnight snack.” Nemuri says grinning up at him. 

“What if I was planning to spend the night with my Latino lover . Could I get out of drinks and drunk midnight snack then?” Aizawa tries, the Latino lover joke was long-standing, usually used by their friend group to signal they did want to go out but were just putting up a token protest at this point.

“No, because there’s literally no way you’ve been busy with any kind of lover, let alone a Latin one. And if you did have one, you’d be expected to bring him with you to drinks and drunk midnight snack because you know Hizashi and I would want to vet him.” Nemuri knows the game, but she didn’t have to drag him like that.

“Is there any way I’m going to get out of drinks and drunk midnight snack?” Aizawa is just curious about what she’ll come up with at this point.

“Only if you get hit by a car or something and then Hizashi and I would just crash your hospital room.” Nemuri grins at him.

“You really are terrible friends.” Aizawa grins back.

“Your best ones!” Nemuri crows.

“Where and what time?”

“That one clubby place on 5th and 8? That gives me and Hizashi time to properly dress up. And you too, I guess. Though I doubt you’ll actually dress up.” Nemuri rolls her eyes at her friend.

“Not only will I not be dressing up, but I will actually be dressing down. Expect to see me in sweatpants.” Shouta grins at Nemuri’s huff.

“As long as it’s the pink ones I think I can live with that.” Nemuri sighs at him.

“Nope, it’s gonna be the black ones,” Shouta says, grinning at the groan that rouses from Nemuri.

“You can’t live your life wearing entirely black.” Nemuri protests.

“Watch me.”

“Watch you what?” Hizashi barges into the room, making a beeline for his two friends (Well, the coffeemaker).

“Wear black for the rest of his life. Specifically, he’s going to be wearing his black sweatpants when he joins us for drinks tonight.” Nemuri informs Hizashi, stepping away from the coffee machine. 

“YEAH!” Hizashi yells at a volume that would make a foghorn proud.

“No!” Nemuri and Aizawa shout together, not even close to reaching Hizashi’s level.

“Sorry!” Hizashi yells, a little quieter.

“Anyway it might be a good choice, I’ve got a few things I’d like your input on anyway,” Shouta says, only to be cut off by the bell. 

-----------

A few hours later find Aizawa at a nearby bar waiting for Hizashi and Nemuri. He wasn’t really surprised to be the first to arrive. The others had to go home to change into their “bar clothes” after the school day. 

Shouta was again going over the points in his head. They’re pretty much the same points he thought up during and after his conversation with Nezu, but with a few more negative ones as well. A lot more. Actually. Now, now his mind flooded with what could go wrong. What if he had a black thumb and couldn’t make anything grow? Would he have to have big animals on the farm? What if one of his students got hurt? Where was he supposed to do this? 

He’s so deep in his circular spiraling thoughts that he doesn’t notice his two oldest friends enter the bar. He also doesn’t notice them get their drinks or even when they sit down with him. In fact, it takes Hizashi actually knocking his shoulder into the tired man for him to even lookup.

“There you are, I was beginning to wonder if you two had gone to the wrong bar or something.” Shouta hadn’t actually been thinking that, but it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. 

“Sorry man, the trains were surprisingly busy for a Thursday.” Hizashi is quick to explain. 

“Now darling, what was it you needed advice on, you never come to us for advice!” Nemuri flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and leans in conspiratorially. 

“I know, it’s more your thing.” Shouta flashes her a tired grin, taking a drink out of his glass. He rolls his thoughts around his head some more. There’s so much that needs saying but he isn’t sure where to start. 

“Okay, now I’m officially worried,” Hizashi says when he believes Aizawa’s silence has gone on too long but had actually only been a few seconds. Still too long for the blond. 

Shouta just folds, putting his face in his hands and groaning. 

“Oh Shouta, darling, don’t tell me you’re burned out again? You’ve been doing so well recently!”

“I’m not burned out yet.” Aizawa’s words are muffled by his hands, and he makes no move to remove them. The other two don’t say anything about it, both too used to him. “Actually that’s part of why I needed to talk tonight.”

“Anything dude! We’ll help however we can, you just say the word!” Hizashi’s volume control had always been a little out of wack. It probably came from growing up in a deaf household while being only partially deaf. 

“First, quiet.”

“Oops, sorry.”

“Second, you remember how Nishya had to take a leave of absence?”

The other two nod, now really unsure of where this is going.

“I guess he applied for and got a huge grant for the school for an agriculture program. Since he can’t run it Nezu wants me to.”

“Wait really?” Nemuri and Hizashi shout together. 

“Yes really, now shut up!” Shouta hisses at the two. 

“Sorry!” They yell again together, but quickly shut up when Shouta levels a glare at them. Both are secretly pleased that managed to get his face out of his hands even if it came at the price of him being slightly pissed off at them. 

“I’m not sure if I should.” He sighs, “On one hand, I wouldn’t be so burned out. It might even be the fresh start I need. On the other hand, I literally know nothing about any of this. I can teach students about laws, forensics, history, even geology if I have to. But farming? Animals? It might as well be another language!"

"Well yeah, but this is one of those things that people need to learn for the betterment of our society!" Hizashi finger guns badly, "How long would you have to learn and start all this?"

"If I accept my remaining students will be moved at the beginning of Winter Quarter. Then I'd have until Spring Quarter to get everything ready."

"Three months without students, along with almost a month before that?" Nemuri reaches across the table to grab one of Shouta's hands with both of her own. "You can do this! Shouta, I've seen you do so many amazing things while just improvising. With so much time to prepare and basically free reign of the project…" She shakes her head, "You'll be ready and have more than enough to teach your students. I know it."

"OhmyGod you'll be able to raise goats! And have as many cats as you want!" Hizashi shouts joyously. 

“I didn’t even think of that! I could have a bunch of farm cats!” Shouta is suddenly way more excited, it doesn’t erase his worry, but it’s a sudden spark of good that could come out of it.

“Wait, you lost me.” Nemuri looks between the two men, she’s still holding Shouta’s hand but he’ll likely pull away.

“All the places in town that I’ve lived haven’t let me keep pets. If I were to lead the program, I could actually have cats.” Shouta is more than a little excited at the prospect, “And goats, but I think those would be more for Hizashi than me really.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t focus too much on the animals. I mean, farms aren’t all about animals. Right? I think that’s right.” She taps her chin. “There's also the growing plants and stuff."

"You really know nothing about farming," Aizawa states plainly with a bland grin on his face. 

"I was born and raised in the city and I feel no shame at that." Nemuri ends up pulling both hands away to cross them in front of her chest, "Nor any desire to change that fact."

"Not that we would ask that of you anyway. I'm, honestly, fairly certain you wouldn't survive." Shouta snarks taking a long pull of his drink. 

"Not like you'd do any better," Hizashi points out, "you're just as much from the city as she is." 

"Yeah, but at least he's not afraid of bugs." Nemuri takes the chance to poke fun at Hizashi, "But surely someone else at UA has more experience in farming than you do?"

"Well, I think the only person who does, who's not on extended leave is Jū-san. You may recall that they have said many times before that they will never go back to a farm-" Hizashi cuts into Shouta's last word. 

"Wait, how the hell does someone who grew up on a farm end up a germaphobe?" His shouting brings a sizable chunk of the bar’s attention to their little group again. 

“Hush, Hizashi!” Nemuri hisses at him, “Sorry!” She calls to everyone who is looking at them. They mostly turn their attention back to their own devices, but a few keep an eye on the group in case of drama.

“The same way I have depression and you’ve got ADHD and Anxiety, it’s a fluke of genetics.” The three of them think for a bit.

“Anyway who else would do it if you couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Hizashi asks

“Nezu did say he would ask other teachers if I don’t want to do it. But I don’t know who, there don’t seem to be a lot of good options.” Shouta returns to the drink in hand, gazing into the depths like they have the answer he’s searching for. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. He’ll find someone else to con into doing the job.” Nemuri says finally. 

“Actually, despite how much I think everything is going to go wrong, I’m going to accept. I need to distance myself from normal school work for a while, or I’m going to drive myself into hating it. I’m at a good lull from my night job, so it’s a good time to shift to something else for a while. And this way, even if it tanks, or doesn’t, I get a year away from this,” Shouta gestures around, “To… recalibrate myself. I’ll come back with the same interest and zeal I had when I first started here, but with all the skills of someone who’s been doing this for a while already. Or, maybe I’ll love farming. Maybe I’m destined to be a farmer and I never got the chance to find out, so this is how I find out, and I spend the rest of my life in a barn.”

“OKAY! This I know. Farmers sleep in the FARMHOUSE, not the BARN.” Hizashi’s vocal controls have short-circuited under the flood of high proof fruity drinks. Shouta hadn’t been keeping the best count but he thinks he’s seen at least three disappear down Hizashi’s gullet and who knows if he had grabbed anything before coming to the bar. 

This time it takes both Nemuri and Shouta hushing him this time. 

“Fine! Farmhouse, whatever. Just all the proof a person needs that I really need to research what I’m about to throw myself into.” Shouta finishes his drink and pushes the glass between his hands. “I’ll tell Nezu tomorrow, and figure out what I need to research then.”

“We’re behind you one hundred percent.” Nemuri smiles. “And we’re visiting the farm when you’ve got it all set up.”

“Even if you completely ruin this,” Hizashi adds. “I expect you to at least adopt one cat and name it after me.”

“Won’t that get confusing?” Shouta questions. 

“Only when we’re both there, man. The rest of the time we’ll know exactly who you’re talking about.” 

Stands to get another drink from the bar when Hizashi grabs his arm. 

“Oh my god, you have to get animals and name them after all the teachers at UA!” Hizashi holds the table as though he’s having a moment of sheer brilliance. “Like, like name the cat after me, but get a herding dog and name it after Inui! And, AND a sheep and name it after Jū-san. And, um, a HORSE! And name it after Maijima! AND-” 

“I’m not naming any animals except maybe cats after any of our coworkers to avoid hurt feelings. We should leave,” He says aside to Nemuri, “Before he gets us kicked out of here.”

“Agreed.” She says. 

They quickly get out of the booth and drop more than enough to cover their tabs. Together they slip an arm under one of Hizashi’s and frogmarch him out of the bar. 

Nemuri hails a cab for herself and Hizashi, she always had better luck at it than Shouta for some reason, and they shove the loud man in. 

“I won’t be able to help when you actually set up the farm, but if there’s anything I can do before then, don't hesitate to ask.” She pulls her longtime friend into a quick hug, which he briefly returns. Then she drops into the cab next to Yamada, who is complaining loudly and getting louder. 

“Of course, good night Nemuri.” He waits for her to pull her foot in then closes the door behind her. 

As the cab drives off Aizawa is left with his thoughts. A few hours previously they had been swirling with what-ifs, now they swirled with how-tos and Maybe-I-Cans. As he walked back to his apartment, the to-do list for this project got longer, but his excitement also grew.

Chapter Text

Early the next morning Shouta made his way back to the school. He accepted the proposal packet from Nezu when the man joins him in the teacher’s lounge. Though in front of Nezu he worked on homework until classes started, then taught as best he could while distracted as he was. 

He had a free period after lunch, he decided to use that time to talk to Nezu, it was better than the end of the day, or worse, being summoned like a naughty student. 

During lunch, he scanned the proposal, as far as he could tell it was a solid, well-written proposal than almost had a checklist of things to do to get the farm up and off the ground, along with almost a dozen lesson plans that could be easily modified based on the number of students. 

The hard part would be for Shouta. When he accepted it would be his job to buy everything, set everything up, make sure everything was reasonably safe, make sure there was enough, well, everything for the kids and himself and any animals. 

The “How-To” was written down and ready for him, but would he be able to get it all done?

By the time lunch was over Shouta felt that he knew the material as well as could for having only read it over an hour. 

Shouta knocks tentatively on Nezu’s door. “May I come in?” He calls.

“Of course, have you had a chance to peruse the proposal?” Nezu asks as Aizawa enters the room.

“I have. I have some concerns though.” Aizawa says, sitting in one of the chairs in front of Nezu’s desk. 

“Such as? I’ve had time to go over it with Nishya before and I feel like I’m quite knowledgeable about the proposal.” Nezu leans forward.

“The proposal mentions the keeping of several different kinds of animals, from chickens and ducks to cows and horses. And many, many more. I’m- I’m not sure I’m willing to try to keep so many animals.” Aizawa says as plainly as he’s able, there’s no point in sugarcoating his concerns.

“You won’t be expected to keep any of these animals that you don’t feel comfortable with. I know chickens and ducks are supposed to be fairly low maintenance, which is why they’re suggested as the early animals to start with.” Nezu offers.

“Ah, the phrasing around the sections with animals made it sound like I was expected to have at least a couple of each by the time students were there,” Aizawa explains.

“Oh my, no. That would be completely unreasonable for anyone, especially someone who hadn’t even been on a farm.” Nezu chuckles a little at the misunderstanding.

“So in theory, maybe an animal or two could be introduced once a quarter, but not more often. Like if I was having trouble with the last introduction or with the students?” Aizawa checks.

“That’s entirely correct. Now, it sounds to me like you may be interested in running the program?” Nezu asks hopefully.

“Well, I actually had one more question. From what I’m reading and the way the proposal is worded. If I accept… Would the grant and all associated with it be in my name?” This part he hadn’t been too sure about, and he wasn’t too sure about how he was supposed to spend the money or work on the program if it was all in Nishya’s name.

“Well, yes. The grant Nishya applied for wasn’t intended for any kind of established schools such as ours. The grant was still intended for a person or small group to set up a school that still covered the basic classes all students have to take, while also giving them the options to spend time on a farm and figure out if it’s a career path they want to follow.” Nezu replies.

“So we’re committing fraud.” 

“While I wish you wouldn’t phrase it like that, yes, I suppose it would count as fraud. But, the only persons who may be profiting from it are you and the students. Of course the grant money, as well as whatever properties you buy, land, animals, the like. Would be transferred to Nishya or whoever took the program over should you find it no longer to your tastes. You would of course be properly recompensed for all your time and effort.” Nezu explains like this should all be obvious.

“This sounds like while I’m doing this I won’t be a school employee.” This is starting to sound less and less like something Shouta wants to be a part of.

“You will be considered a district employee, but no, you won’t be officially paid. Considering the grant should more than cover any expenses you’ll have I hope you can understand why you wouldn’t be paid.” Nezu grins a little as he says this, like it’s a bit of a joke.

“The more you talk about this the more illegal it's sounding,” Aizawa responds.

“Perhaps so, but I hope you’ll accept it anyway. This isn’t just for notoriety for the school, this is for the children. Giving them a chance to learn more about the world, and maybe change the world for the better.” 

“You know, that’s really not all that convincing,” Aizawa says, he flips the proposal closed. 

“I understand. The actions we’re taking are not necessarily all that encouraging, and really are probably setting a bad example. Were anyone to find out, it would probably end badly. Your reluctance is perfectly reasonable.” Nezu shakes his head, a defeated look about him, “I’ll see if any of the other staff would be interested.”

“Hold on. I didn’t say I wouldn't be willing to run the program, but now that you’re confirming some less than legal things?” Aizawa pauses, waiting for the older man to look at him, “I’m going to say that I’d like some legalize that will keep me out of trouble if this does come to light.” 

“Such as?” Nezu asks genuinely curious. 

“Such as something signed by Nishya that’s forfeiting the grant money to me so that I can continue the program that he currently can’t. With something like if Nishya returns and wants to take the program back over I’ll immediately sign everything back over to him.” Aizawa suggests.

“I think that is perfectly reasonable. I will see if I can contact Nishya to get paperwork signed, but, this is you agreeing?” Nezu asks tentatively.

“Yes. I will run the program for the time being. But don’t expect me to like it.” Aizawa says, still putting up some protest.

“The only thing that I will expect from you is your hard work and that you’ll do your best to make this program work.” Nezu bolsters.

“You have entirely too much faith in me,” Aizawa says, with a sense that he’s getting in way over his head.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith,” Nezu replies, a winsome grin on his face.

Chapter Text

The weekend gave him time to research a few different places, including the farms that were part of the proposal. Unfortunately, most of the places that were in Nishya’s proposal had either already been sold or the price had been upped.

As he looked through the options for places to set up he was once again feeling the stress. Every place he looked up was wrong somehow. Sometimes the house looked like it was falling apart. Sometimes the property was too small. Sometimes it just wasn’t in the budget outlined by the proposal.

The disheartening feeling came back. But, even so, he called to set up walkthroughs for a handful of properties. As he reached the end of the list of places he grudgingly had added to his list, he saw one property that he couldn’t remember looking at before.

The house was older but in reasonably good shape from what he could tell from the pictures. There were a bunkhouse and barn already as part of the property. The bunkhouse was a little on the small side, but putting at least two students to a room would solve that. The property itself was huge, over 250 acres. Along with some spaces already set up for animals and farming. And the property was less than half of what some of the other, smaller, worse properties cost.

From what he could tell the place was perfect and would require some upkeep, but not enough to actually be daunting. The property was huge beyond realization but was already partially set up, which would save some hassle later. The only real downside he could see was it was almost half an hour from the closest town, and nearly three from Musutafu. Making it by far the most remote of the options.

Appointments were easy enough to make, though he had to call four different agencies to look at all of them. Each of the realtors he spoke to over the phone had an overly polished spiel about the properties. Except for the last, who seemed surprised he wanted anything to do with what he had already begun mentally dubbing 'his farm.' Though he knew that was far out of line and he had to at least have Nezu's go-ahead to buy any properties.

The showings wouldn't start until Tuesday, and from then till Saturday he had two showings each day he would be attending. On Sunday he would be driving the six hours there and back to see the remote property.

With plans, or at least the first steps of plans already in place as far as a farm itself, Aizawa throws himself back into the proposal. A lot of it seems fairly straight forward, but some parts, like crop health, animal health, etc, all seem to be more than a little out of his league. He has a lot of time to plan, but without knowing where he’s setting up. Without knowing what’ll need to be done so that everything can go smoothly. He’s a little stuck with just reading up on things.

Come Monday he prints off all the information he has about the properties he’s going to look at and takes them to Nezu. The two of them spend some time before school -and then a few hours after- going over the pros and cons of each property. Nezu helps him come up with a list of questions to ask at each property. Though he apparently doesn’t know much about farming. He’s also taken some time over the weekend to research what is considered desirable for farm property. When Aizawa finally heads home that evening it’s with Nezu’s blessing to choose whichever property he thought would best suit the program.

He orders in and spends a couple of hours familiarizing himself with the list of questions he needs to ask. He creates his own questions as well, some more specific to each listing than to all of them, and those he thinks would be “absolute no” questions.

Nemuri again rolls around by the time he’s, well, not happy, but the list of questions is acceptable. He puts the list and papers away in his bag, noticing the student’s homework he really should have graded at some point in the last week. He pulls out the stacks and groans quietly to himself. This particular stack he really should have handed back today. But now he’s going to have to go all night to hand them back tomorrow.

With that, he flips on the radio to Hizashi’s radio show. He didn’t listen often, but he needed the background noise. And. At least this way if Hizashi asked, he could say he had listened. Settling in again -and reminding himself to turn off the heater in the kotatsu- he sets the homework into piles on the table. As the opening notes of the show play, Shouta’s already deeply focused on the disappointing paper in front of him (that he had known was going to be disappointing, hence its place as the first to be graded).

Losing himself to methodically turning a sea of black and white to red, his thoughts drift some to what his life will be like over the next year. Once he gets the farm set up, he’ll likely have to grade more on actions and how they improve over the year rather than on an exam. Maybe have some sort of cumulative exam where they have to showcase some of the skills he wants them to learn over the year? He’s still got time to figure what he wants to do.

He quietly wishes that he didn’t have to do this alone, but steels himself before the thought can get too far. He probably won’t have that many students anyway, and the actual teaching portion shouldn’t be too bad. Well, it won’t be too bad once he knows what he wants to do.

The rest of the early morning hours are spent in a silent war with himself as he tries to grade. He in part feels like maybe he’s not getting the full support he wants to do this. Someone else to check he’s properly teaching the students. What else can he do to make sure that the students are getting the best possible education? What can he do to make sure the program doesn’t fail so badly it’s completely abandoned?

He’ll check with Nezu sometime tomorrow -or today, as it were- to see if any other teachers could come to assist him with all of this.

As he finishes with the final paper he looks at the time, only to find it’s about 4 in the morning. He didn’t think it would take the time it did to grade the papers, but he wouldn’t dream of trying to sleep in the time he has left. At least, not at his apartment.

He gathers the papers into his bag, turning off the heat to the kotatsu. A quick shower and a change of clothes later he’s out the door.

His apartment isn’t far from the school, and he’s had a spare set of keys almost from the beginning. So it’s nothing to let himself in. He sets up his desk, then, pulls his sleeping bag out from under it. The bag was terribly yellow, an absolute eyesore, but also completely ignorable he’d found, once the students and staff got used to it.

Once he curls up under his desk he falls asleep quickly enough.

He wakes when someone gently taps a coffee mug on the desk above him.

“Up and at em’ Shouta, you’ve got 20 minutes to wake up before your homeroom class,” Nemuri warns before walking away.

Thanking Nemuri in the form of a quiet groan Aizawa puts his bag away. Then he attempts to drown himself in his coffee. It doesn’t work, but the familiar burn and burnt taste revive him some.

With a promise to himself to sleep a little more at lunch, he leaves the safety and relative quiet of the Teacher’s Lounge to teach his classes for the day.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of subtly lifted spirits and more intent focus on the coursework than this class had shown in most of the previous weeks. With homework passed out and collected Aizawa leaves them at his desk with the vague plan of coming in early the next day to mark them.

The e-bike he finds isn’t the most comfortable thing in existence, but he doesn’t have the time today to figure out the trains to everywhere he wants to go tonight.

Part of him is excited to visit the farms he’s going to tonight. One’s only about 15 minutes away from the edge of town, and one of his favorite udon places. He’ll be stopping there before heading home. The other is about 30 minutes from the school, which would make it great for school. The other teachers could drop-in whenever they needed to teach classes. That would certainly take a couple of loads off of his shoulders as far as making sure that all his students got a proper education.

The ride to the first place passes in a blur, Shouta only stops to check that he’s going the right way. He spends most of the drive to the first farm going over the questions he wants to ask about the farm, the whats, whys, whens, and hows of the older farm.

When he arrives the first thing he notices is a short fence circling the parameter. And a large gate that looked heavy, but seemed to be unlocked. A small shove and he’s able to pilot the bike through the crack in the now proven heavy fence.

From the gate to the house it’s a short drive, and Aizawa takes a moment to stretch his legs before looking for the listing agent.

He looks around, briefly disappointed when he realizes he can trace the path of the fence all the way around the farm with ease.

Strike one.

He can also tell from here that the ‘Bunkhouse’ that had been a good part of the reason this place was on his list was in much worse repair than the pictures showed. It looked like it would need to be torn down.

Strike two.

He walks up to the door of the house, only to nearly run into the Realtor as he comes rushing out with a sea of platitudes and apologies.

Aizawa barely shrugs at the apologies and requests that they move on quickly. The short, stocky man is quick to turn back to the house to lead Aizawa on a tour. He doesn’t have all the answers that Shouta is looking for, but he knows a fair amount about the farm’s history and about the local territory. Shouta is less than impressed with most of the property, the actual acreage actually being less than what was on the sites Aizawa had checked. When he comes around to inquiring what the current owners may accept for the building. He’s shocked to find that they want close to double the price that had been quoted on the site. To make matters worse, apparently, they wouldn’t accept a penny less, despite multiple people trying to argue for it in the past.

Strike three.

With that Aizawa quickly wraps up the meeting, claiming that he has another meeting he has to be ready for. The man doesn’t argue, Aizawa wouldn’t be the first to back away from the property at the mention of the cost, and likely wouldn’t be the last.

With that, he draws a big X through the listing he printed off and drives away.

He drives around the city, backtracking a little to stop by the udon place and grab a quick bowl while waiting for his next listing to actually start. While waiting and eating he writes a brief summary of why the first property wouldn’t work and stashes it back in his bag.

The next place he shows up a little too early for. He does a quick walk around the property to find it much better maintained than the last farm. This place would be good, he certainly wouldn’t have to do any maintenance to get it into living conditions. But no bunkhouse, so he’d have to either add to the house or have one built from the ground up.

The young woman who drives up is surprisingly punk for a realtor, and Aizawa finds himself relaxing a little at her attire. She greets him warmly and immediately asks if he has any questions about what he had seen so far. He asks his questions and she gives a fair few good answers. Together they walk around the property, examining the property lines and the general state of the farm and the barn. It’s only when they reach the house that Aizawa finally gets around to asking why the farm is for sale.

He’s less pleased when he finds out that the farm is being used as collateral. Only being put for sale to encourage the couple who lived there to get the money to buy it back or else.

He can’t find it in himself to firmly check the place off his list. But he would only choose it if all the other places didn’t pan out. He walks the young realtor back to her car, thanking her for her time and for answering all of his questions.

He hops back onto the e-bike, making a quick note on the listing paper before leaving. He then drives straight back to his apartment.

His bed is too far from the front door, but the couch is the perfect place to collapse into a deep slumber until the next day.

The next morning he gets to school fairly early. First thing, he sends an email to Nezu about why the first place would definitely not be any choice after getting a chance to look at it. After that, he dives into the piles of paperwork. It had piled up both because of his general dislike of paperwork and due to the expulsion of the sexual harasser the week before.

The early morning, especially with the fresh coffee, is enough for him to power through most of his ‘IN’ pile before the day starts. He stops before fully finishing. He instead discusses the properties from the day before with Nemuri and Hizashi, who both agree with him about the choices he’s made so far.

“I can’t believe that they haven’t updated the pictures or anything at all! How far out of date would you say the pictures were?” Nemuri asks holding her nearly depleted coffee to her chest.

“At least five years, probably more though. I think they sold off portions of the land and haven’t kept track of anything properly in years. And they think the property is worth more than it is.” Aizawa shakes his head, filling up his coffee.

“How many more places do you have to look at?” Maijima asks from his desk.

Aizawa looks over at the engineering teacher, “This week seven more. If none of these are suitable though I’m going to have to widen the parameters.”

“This week?” Hizashi bursts, “Aizawa buddy, you don’t have to get this all done this week. You’ll have the whole of Winter Break to get this done!”

“I’m aware of the time limitations I have. I also know that just about any property I buy on behalf of the school will take some time to process the sale. It will likely also take time to set the farm up so students can live there. Not only that but I will have to research, source, buy, and settle animals and ensure care for the farm. I’m certain all of that will take longer than the three and a half months I have before the start of the Spring Quarter.” Aizawa shakes his head. “The sooner I can start on this the better.”

“It will do you more harm than good to push yourself. You can ask for help. We’re all more than willing to help!” Nemuri adds cheerfully, before pausing. “Well, to the best of our abilities considering most of us have never even been on a farm, let alone tried to run one.”

“Thank you for the offer, I may take you up on it later.” Aizawa nods to her. Looking at the time he swallows the dregs of his coffee. “We’ve only got a few minutes before the first bell, I suggest you prepare.”

As the other teachers gather their supplies and leave, Shouta takes a last look at the papers he has to hand out and his lecture. Fortunately, neither should take long, he might catch up on his paperwork today!

The school day ends up going exactly as he thought it would. The students are focused and absorb what he teaches quickly. They work through the worksheets he gave them and he finishes the rest of the grading in record time.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t eagerly await the end of the school day.

He’s seen two properties so far that were wildly different from the listings. At this point, he’s morbidly curious how the other properties will be different from the listings.

He cleans up quickly enough, come the end of the day. His papers sorted and set aside. The listings for the day printed and any notes, thoughts, and questions are written on them. By the time he’s done with that, the halls have cleared, and he’s able to head out with minimal interruptions.

Another e-bike borrowed and a couple more short-ish drives tonight.

The next place is only fifteen minutes from town, which is fortunate. The drive there is almost entirely on unpaved roads, which is very unfortunate.

Shouta has more than a couple of bumps from the ride when he gets to the farm, and he really, really isn’t excited for the ride back. The same stout man from the day before is there to greet him this time.

Together they walk the property, it’s not large, but it would suit the needs of the school. The farmhouse is in decent shape, and even already partially converted into a bunkhouse. Unless they squeezed three or four kids into a room there would only be enough space for 5-10 though. There aren’t any signs that animals were kept on the property.

The barn is in much worse repair than the house, but still in the “repair not tear down and start over” zone. The property looks like it overall hasn’t been well maintained in a while, but it could work as a teaching aid.

The realtor tells him that the family selling the farm wants to get out of the business. That they’d probably take way less than they’re asking just to get rid of the property.

They further walk the property, and Shouta finds that while there’s nothing outright wrong with the place. He doesn’t feel any real draw. The place would work. But he doesn’t feel like this is the place.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Aizawa asks a few more half-hearted questions. He pays attention to the answers, but that doesn’t make the property any more appealing to him.

He thanks the stoat man again taking a moment while the realtor drives off to write his notes about the place. Even the notes he writes seem to come off as lackluster when trying to say the good and bad things about the property.

Shaking his head he stows the papers and tries to figure out how to get to the next property.

An unpleasantly bumpy ride back into the city leaves him in dire need of coffee to remain civil for his next meeting. The bouncy barista chatters the whole time she serves him but doesn’t seem to need or expect any response. He thanks her and sits for a moment to acquaint himself with the listing for his next property. Which, on paper at least, is in obviously better repair than any of the other properties he’s seen.

As soon as he finishes his coffee he tosses the cup and leaves, waving as the barista yells a goodbye after him.

The ride to the next place, though nearly 45 minutes away, is significantly smoother, and seems to fly by.

He has high hopes for the next farm. The place had looked a little run down in the pictures, but he knew the listing was recent. The realtor had even said she was surprised that someone had called so soon after the listing had been posted.

The sun sets during his ride to the farm.

But the glow in the distance continues growing despite the sun's descent.

When he gets to the farm’s address it’s to find the local fire brigade watching the place burn. Who he assumes to be the realtor is standing near a fairly nice car and simply blinking at the fire from the road.

He walks over to the tall and stern-looking woman inquiring if she was the realtor he was supposed to meet.

In a voice that’s surprisingly soft and kind, she replies that she is. She apologies for the fire. Saying that she was about to call and tell him not to come and waves in the fire in explanation. He agrees that a warning would have been nice. Together they watch the house crumble from the damage of the flames.

When the house starts to burn out Aizawa turns to the woman and asks if she was who he was supposed to meet with the following day.

She asks which property he had been planned to see, and when he answers she replies in the affirmative. They would be meeting around the same time the next day.

With a nod towards the house, he asks if she’d be willing to show him the other house now since this one likely wouldn’t pan out.

He hadn’t expected the hard laugh that came from her at that point but was glad to help with the levity of the evening. She offers to drive both of them there if he could manage to fit his bike into her car. He hadn’t expected her to agree. When he asks if she should stick around she explains that she won’t be able to do much about it until the next day. It wasn’t like he didn’t already have an appointment with her, might as well get it over with now instead of later.

He manages to shove the bike into the back seat of the suburban car, and they’re off. She’s already spouting the positive features of the place they’re going to see, and he finds himself relaxed by her straight to the point attitude.

The place bigger than the properties he’s gone to see so far, but it’s also fairly run down. The major benefit he can see to the place is that it’s relatively close to the school. The major downside is that a dairy farm flanks one side of the farm and a pig farm flanks another.

He and the Realtor spend nearly an hour going over the downsides and benefits of the property. They agree to disagree about whether the price makes the property worth the investment and talk back to the car. He shows her the other properties he’s going to see, and she points out that the one he’s supposed to see Friday is one of her properties too.

Together they get back in the car and talk to the next farm without pause.

Aizawa tells her about why he’s getting a farm and isn’t surprised when she laughs. She hadn’t pegged him as a farmer and had been curious, but wasn’t sure it was appropriate to ask.

At the last farm of the now very late evening, she uses the new information to tell point out how the place would make a decent teaching farm with a little TLC. She then has to explain the acronym when he can’t immediately place it.

This place isn’t the smallest he’s seen, but he can’t imagine the place would have enough room to teach the subjects he wants to.

The Realtor doesn’t fight him on this, she hadn’t expected him to be that interested in the place anyway.

They get back in her car when he feels he's sufficiently explored the property.

She offers drinks, and his day has been odd enough he accepts. He points her to a place he doesn't exactly frequent, and they spend the next few hours trading stories. Her's are odd and his are weird and they get on like, well, a house on fire.

Just before the bar closes she gets a call about the fire, and they trade goodbyes.

He heads to school instead of home. The showers there have endless hot water and someone will wake him up before the classes later on in the morning.

Shouta wakes up to Hizashi yelling at seemingly inhuman volumes. He groans to alert anyone else in the room of his existence.

Nemuri laughs at him, "What happened to just going to look at farms?"

Groaning more Aizawa debates ignoring her. Unfortunately, he knows from previous experience that she won't leave.

In a surprisingly good imitation of the mummy rising from the grave to curse the living, Shouta Aizawa rises to take the coffee that Nemuri offers much like a disciple at the awakening of an ancient evil.

“So?” She asks again, and he knows he’s not getting out of explaining.

“One of the farms caught fire.”

Hizashi immediately takes this to 11, “OHMYGOD SHOUTA ARE YOU OKAY?!”

The Shouta in question groans and clutches his head, wishing not for the first time that his friend had some sort of mute button.

“Shut up!” He hisses. “I wasn’t in it or even near it when it happened.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re hungover though.” Nemuri taps her blood-red lips with her blood-red nail. “Something else must have happened.”

“Wow, Nemuri you could be a detective,” Aizawa says as flat as he can.

“Ass. Just tell us what happened and we’ll leave you alone.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“The property I went to first was fine. But when I got to the second one it was on fire. The realtor was already there, but she hadn’t had time to call me and tell me not to come. It turned out I was meeting her to look at three properties total. So we went to the other two we were supposed to look at, and then went out to the bar. She was a fairly interesting woman, but I don’t think I’ll buy any of the properties she showed me. That being said I have her number and may invite her out the next time we go drinking.”

“Let me get this straight,” he leans down so he’s almost at Aizawa’s level, “This random woman made enough of a good impression on you that you want to invite her out to drinks with us?”

“Yes. But only because you two will need someone to put up with you when I’m off being a cowboy.”

“HEY!”

“Shut uuuuuuup.” Aizawa groans, attempting to burrow back into his sleeping bag.

“Oh, no you don’t. So how many more places do you have to look at now?” Nemuri, in a surprising display of strength, pulls the sleeping bag and Shouta apart.

He glares at her from the floor, “One today and one tomorrow. Saturday I need to borrow your car Hizashi so I can go see the place that’s way out of town.”

“Any of them seem like they’re the place?” Yamada says in lieu of offering his car or acknowledging that Aizawa wants to borrow it.

“Not really. Almost all of them seem to have something with them that just makes them-” He pauses, looking for the right words, “Just not it. I’m hoping one of these last places works because if they don’t I’m going to basically be living and working in a whole different country.” He finally pulls himself off the floor. “These two places are probably going to be the best options. This one cause it’s close to the school and doesn’t need a lot of repairs.” He holds up the one that’s basically a debt farm. “Or this one because it’s literally cheaper than all the other places and is on a huge property.” He holds up the one he’s going to see Saturday.

Nemuri takes the one for the distant farm while Hizashi takes the one for the family farm.

“Are these really the best options?” Hizashi asks.

“As far as I’m concerned they are. Every other place is either falling apart or is too small to really do anything on.”

The bell for class rings as though solely to interrupt the conversation.

“You’re telling us more after class.”

“I’m going to look at more farms after class.”

Kayama sighs at him, “Fine. Sunday then, you’re telling us everything!”

“Now that I can agree to.”

The teachers separate to grab their supplies and head to their classes. Aizawa gives most of his classes a study hall and sleeps beneath his desk.

Come to the end of the day he’s feeling human enough to go to the next property. Not that a hangover would have stopped him anyway.

He grabs an e-bike and is suddenly glad he went to visit the other farm the day before. The place he’s going to see today is almost an hour out of town and he would have definitely been late.

The farm de jour is bigger than the last couple he’s visited. Unfortunately, the barn and the house look like they could barely fit one person. Hardly the 20 he’s supposed to be prepared for. The punk Realtor isn’t surprised this place doesn’t suit his needs either. She then offers to go through her listings in other provinces to see if one of those would better suit his needs.

He thinks about it while she locks up the farm again. He tells her that he has a couple more properties nearby that he’s checking out, but if none of them work out he’d like to take her up on that.

She agrees, telling him to call if he needs to.

They go their separate ways. Aizawa goes home to recuperate further. Not bothering to tell anyone he hasn’t been killed by an ax-murderer.

The next day he drags his much better but still sorry corpse to the school. His notes on the property from the previous day include the realtor's offer. But he doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep up the way he’s going.

At school, he gets his coffee and glares at anyone who gets too close to his desk. Neither ready nor willing to deal with anyone today. He gathers the notes for the lectures he’s supposed to give, irritated for using up the study days he had for this week. He heads to his class before the wonder duo can show up and ask him about the farm from the night before.

He sleeps under his desk until class, and then between classes for the rest of the day.

He buys a bento before heading out to the second to last property. Planning on eating when there.

He does manage to arrive early. He eats half the bento while going over his notes for the property before the Stocky Realtor arrives again. The man is as perfectly pleasant as he’d been the last few times Aizawa had looked at properties with him.

They walk around the property. But Aizawa doesn’t ask as many questions this time. This property is the most expensive of the list, and he can already tell that it’s not even close to worth it to buy. The place is in need of repair, he would need to build a bunkhouse for students. There’s nothing nearby that could constitute making this place worth it as a property.

He asks the Realtor how much he thinks the owners would be willing to accept as an offer, just to be sure. When the number for the property doesn’t magically drop by half he can’t say he’s surprised.

He thanks the Realtor, who also doesn’t seem surprised, and returns to the e-bike and the bento. He writes his notes about the property, then finishes his bento.

He takes the bike back to his apartment then goes and sits on his small balcony.

Hizashi had never said that Shouta could take his car. That meant he would have to break into his friend’s apartment to get the keys. He hoped that Yamada hadn’t left the volume on 10 again.

He briefly goes inside to grab a jelly pouch then drops back onto his balcony, watching the sunset until he gets too cold.

With some vague plans to be up at roughly the usual time he takes a shower then drops into his bed. Sleeping like a rock for a good few hours.

When he actually wakes up it’s still predawn, but that works for him. He still has to go steal Hizashi’s car before driving to the property.

He takes a shower before tossing on his clothes. He debates making breakfast before examining his fridge. The lack of anything but leftovers and jelly packs tells him he's in fact, not going to be making about any kind of breakfast. He pulls out some of the leftovers, with a quick sniff test to check he determines they’re probably safe and chows down.

He grabs a couple of the jelly packs and tosses them into his bag. So he has something to eat later when he’s about a billion miles from any food source he recognizes.

He walks to Hizashi’s apartment, the trek isn’t long and gives him time to think about the different properties and what he expects out of this one. This one is by far the best on paper; the acreage is huge, the farm only slightly run down, there’s already so much work done that now he doesn’t have to do because he knows someone else (probably with more knowledge in the subject than he had already set it up.

A small traffic incident distracts him from his thoughts, but a quick check reveals that no one is hurt, so he carries on his way.

The property was also by far the cheapest of the properties. The current owners asking for half of what he guessed had been the standard.

He worries a little, what that might mean, but figures now isn’t really the time to worry about that.

Yamada, for all that he liked living in luxury, didn’t live in one of the fancy apartment blocks in the nicer parts of town. He lived in a large, older building that had big climbable ledges. Tucking away his thoughts for now. Shouta started the very dangerous climb up to his friend's apartment. He was pretty surprised no one had called the cops on him this time or any of the times in the past he had done this.

The window isn’t locked, despite the number of times Aizawa had broken into Hizashi’s apartment over the years he never remembered to lock the window. As he closes the window behind him he listens for any sign of movement, but can only hear Yamada’s snores. He walks to the front door and, yep, there are the keys. He’s still careful not to jingle them too much but unlocks everything to let himself out, and them locks most things back up behind him.

Enough of the neighbors have seen him going to or leaving Hizashi’s apartment before, so he acknowledges them and concedes to discuss the weather. He helps Mrs. Fuminko with her groceries before getting all the way down to the garage. Thanking her in turn for the small plate of cookies she presses on him in return.

The Lexus Hizashi has is a fairly nice car. Maybe a little plain for people who knew him, but the canary yellow really stood out in the building’s garage.

He tosses the cookies onto the passenger seat, inputting the address to the last farm into the car’s GPS.

He flips on the radio to find it is not in fact at 10 but at 9. For anyone else would be indistinguishable when getting blasted at six in the morning. It was was fairly common for him.

He drops the music down to more reasonable volumes and switches the channel to a local rock station. The car is significantly more comfortable to get to his destination than a bike would have been.

He drives and contemplates the scenery. The land as he gets closer to the farm being mostly farmland, but an awful lot of it is chunks of forest.

He had spent nearly his entire life in the city where U.A. was located. The only time he had left that city was to go to college in Tokyo, which wouldn’t help him with a farm. He wonders at all the brilliant greens he sees outside his windows, but he doesn’t have time to get lost in a forest now.

He can tell, as soon as he reaches the property where the property lines start. Not because of any signs or fences, but because the land goes from fresh and bright and growing to abandoned.

There’s a dirt path leading right to the door of the house. Also to the Bunkhouse that's a dozen or so meters away from the house and to the barn, which he would guess is about a half a kilometer away. The path gets sparser the farther from each of these places it gets, but it seems to be in good order.

Aizawa assumes the realtor meets him when he pulls up. The man is taller than Shouta and thin like he had lost a lot of weight recently. The man has nervous shifting brown eyes and a short brown haircut that still manages to look frazzled.

Almost immediately he greets Shouta by name, not even bothering to confirm whether he is who he thinks he is. He all but drags Aizawa around the property. Pointing out how well kept the house and property are for being, “abandoned so long.” Shouta finds himself surprised as well. The place is actually in better shape than the pictures had shown. Maybe they had been taking by whoever owned the property before the last person?

A walkthrough of the two-story house shows that it has a lot of furniture already there, and three bedrooms, two full bathrooms. The furniture seems to be a wide array, some from what he would guess as being the turn of the century. All the way up to some fairly modern pieces that still look like they belong in a farmhouse. A peak in some of the closets shows they’re empty, but he had half expected them not to be.

The realtor tells him there’s an attic, but he decides that he doesn’t feel like climbing up there today. More intrigued by the furniture and such left behind.

The realtor has basically nothing but good things to say about the property, and Aizawa kinda feels the same. The whole house screams home in a way that most of his apartments, even with all his belongings, never had.

They go to the bunkhouse next, it’s also two stories and it’s in a similar situation to the house. All the rooms have furniture, and he’s pleased to find that the “bedrooms” are already set up to house two people each. Each having two thin beds, and two desks with chairs. There’s a table in a dining room area that’s a table big enough for two dozen people. The kitchen has a lot of dishes surprisingly, all stacked away as neat as can be but for a layer of thick dust. There are a couple of sitting areas that have decent amounts of lay about furniture. Each of them has a foosball table surprisingly, but Shouta figures that is better left for another time. There’s apparently an attic in this building too, but he still doesn’t want to root through it right now.

They wander the barn, and to Aizawa, it seems to be well made. There are some sections for horses, or maybe cows? Sheep? That are set aside and have troughs built into the walls. A small office sits near the front door, big enough to move around a little, but the room is mostly a desk, with a swivel chair at the center. He, in a moment of weakness, tests the power of the swivel chair and is only mildly disappointed when it does not swivel smoothly. The loft part of the barn has a lot of old dusty and slightly mildewy hay. But he finds signs that something or someone may sleep up there. A slight worry, but something he’ll deal with later. That is. If he decides to buy the farm. (He probably is, but at least needs to remain ‘impartial’ until he delivers his findings to Nezu (he already loves this place)).

The walk around the farm is pretty nice, they don’t go to all the edges, but the realtor shows him the pasture that is definitely overgrown. He shows him some of the fields that appear to have been planted and then abandoned. He seems bound and determined to ignore any questions about the gangly scarecrow in one of the abandoned fields. Even going so far as to pretend it doesn’t exist for a long moment.

Aizawa decides to ignore the odd behavior of the odd man. He seems like he’s going through a lot of stress, and Aizawa doesn't want to be the one to push him too far.

He doesn’t have too many questions when the showing is over, and most of them are quickly answered. He thinks about taking the house at the asking price but decides to ask about lowering the price anyway. Even though the property is beautiful and he would honestly pay triple the amount to get it. He surprised when the realtor almost literally jumps on the question. Jumping down from number to number until he’s offering a little under half of what the listing was when Aizawa stops him. He’s surprised but pleased. He says he’ll take the property, only for the man to jump on that statement too.

He starts blabbering, saying how he felt terrible, how he hates himself for this but he can’t let Aizawa buy the property in good faith. When Shouta’s about ready to straight-up leave the man continues. The property’s haunted he says, cursed. No one could ever survive to make a living, and that gives Aizawa pause. He’s never been one to believe in the supernatural. He’s a man of reason, of cold logic and firmly only believes in what’s in front of him.

So the idea that this property could be cursed or haunted or both seems laughable.

He doesn't laugh though.

He asks if the realtor really thinks he could sell the property after a spiel like that. The man seems too scared, too agitated to actually be anything but trying to help. The man says that he just wants to no longer be in charge of this property. Four different people have bought and sold it in the last five years he’s been working for his company. At this point, he thinks it might just be better to burn it down, burn it all to the ground and take the hit.

Shouta can see the crazed look in his eyes and wonders if the man is already gone off the edge.

“I’ll take it.” He says, hoping to at least help the man out a little.

The man is shocked, confused.

Aizawa just pulls out the papers with the other farms and hands him the one with this farm. Nezu did say the choices were all his. So he’s going through with it. He tears the other papers in half and shrugs. He asks the man to guide him to the office so he can fill out the paperwork to buy the place.

The man is confused but gives him the address to go to. Before getting in his (well, Yamada’s) car he calls Nezu’s work number, pleasantly surprised when the man does actually pick up.

He tells the hyper-intellectual man that he’s going to buy the farm that’s so far from town. He doesn’t tell him anything about the supposed haunting. Nezu tells him that he’ll send the information for the bank and the official information for the school to his work email. The man doesn’t question Aizawa’s choice, he trusts the man in this endeavor, but Shouta finds himself suddenly feeling unsure.

He shakes the feeling off. Getting in the car he finds he has next to no wifi, so he ignores his phone until he gets to the realtors' office. He turns off his car and checks his phone, one missed phone call from Hizashi that he’s not going to listen to. And the email, that has, as far as he can tell, a bunch of legal jargon for ‘Yes this man has the power to buy a farm in our name.’ He grabs his bag out of the car, locking it on his way out. The office is in a town a little under 45 minutes away from the farm, but it’s by no means the closest town.

A few people sit at desks in a large central room. The jittery realtor he’s supposed to be meeting with is standing next to a printer with an unfortunately large stack of papers already next to him.

Shouta can feel a few gazes burn into him as he waits near the door. He can’t find the source as every time he looks around the room, no one’s even pointed his direction.

When the realtor he’s here to make a deal with notices he’s in the room he jumps and immediately guides Aizawa to what must be his desk. He drops a stack of papers onto the table next to him and then returns to the printer. Shouta eyes the stack like it’s a dangerous criminal and briefly wonders why buying a property would need so many papers. He keeps from groaning when the man comes back with a stack almost the same size as the first, but it’s a near thing.

The two of them sit down, and the realtor informs Aizawa that he’s not actually buying the one property. He’s actually buying fifteen properties, that all fall under the same header.

He’s surprised when the cost for all the properties is the lowest number the Realtor said. Shouta hadn’t expected him to keep his word about that.

They sit down to start the paperwork a little after noon, and they don't finish until after six. They had only taken a short break early on in the process. The Realtor getting the original owner’s permission to sell the property for the price the realtor offered. Whoever was on the other end had made the phone call as short as possible. They agreed to everything the realtor had said to get the properties out of their hair as soon as possible. Aizawa groans a little when he’s done with all the paperwork. He wonders why they couldn’t have had him sign one and then consider that across the board for all of them. He stands up and stretches, noticing the former growl that was his stomach now roaring at him, he realizes the late hour. He and the realtor gather up his copies of the papers and he watches as the man shuffles away with the other stuff. He stashes the papers into his bag, thanking the other man for his time. He notes a change in the other man. He’s calmer now than he’s been all day. In fact, he seems damn near relaxed now that the properties have been sold. Maybe there was something to the curse.

Shouta shakes off the thought.  There was no curse. The man was just very eager to get rid of a property that was making no money.

Snagging a jelly pouch out of his bag, Shouta wonders if it’s worth it to sleep in Hizashi’s car tonight and drive back tomorrow. He humors the thought, then decides that that would be too cruel to the other man but still hilarious.

He gets back in the car again, this time putting in the coordinates for Hizashi’s place with a side trip to a great noodle shop he frequents.

On the drive back he realizes that he’s going to have to get a car of his own to be able to get anywhere. The closest town to the farm is about a 15-minute drive, which would take too long to walk, and he needs something to carry the feed for him.

Maybe a horse could, he laughs to himself before tossing the thought.

He stops at the noodle place only long enough to pick up his order. He hadn’t actually intended to steal the car for so long, but it was too late to go back on this now. He grabs an order for Hizashi, and just to be safe, Nemuri too. The loud man would want to complain to someone, and without his radio show for the night that was going to be Nemuri.

He's tired and his back is sore when he parks the police bait in the garage of Hizashi’s building.

The long drive both ways plus the hours spent in the crappy chair at the realtor’s office had done nothing good for him. He wishes that his ability to sleep anywhere for any length of time also worked on sitting places.

He trudges to the apartment, unlocking the door in lieu of knocking, expecting the shouting that follows.

He doesn’t drop the plastic bowls holding his and his friends' dinner. But it’s a near thing at the sheer waves of sound that escape the apartment when he opens the door.

As expected Nemuri and Hizashi are sitting on the couch, both surrounded by small cities of empty bottles and cans. Shouta shakes his head, holding up the bowls as a peace offering. He drops the keys into their rightful home and goes to the kitchen to find the fancy metal chopsticks Hizashi prefers.

He hands off the soups, ignoring all the questions and accusations both fling at him. He eats his soup as quickly as he can manage, ignoring the heat in favor of the flavor. Hunting down any unopened drinks he can he waits until the other two have finished eating and have set aside their drinks. Then he passes them the packet of papers that pronounce him a landowner.

The screeching that his two oldest friends achieve is near supersonic, and he’s certain he can hear the neighborhood dogs going crazy.

As the two slur their words and yell about how exciting this all is Shouta just lines up the unopened drinks and starts through on them. He on the third drink by the time he tunes back in to hear Nemuri worrying about whether Nezu would approve of the property. He assures her he does and finished the half-full drink in his hand. He pulls the paperwork from Hizashi’s hand puts it in his bag which he then sets by the door. Hopefully out of reach of his dearly drunken friends.

They talk back and forth in circles about how exciting the buying of a farm is and how it was probably the best choice. Especially considering the other options.

At some point between the farm on fire and the wonderings of the drunk of the likelihood of fate, Aizawa falls asleep.

Chapter Text

He wakes up to find he’s curled up on Hizashi’s criminally small couch, and the man himself is conked out on the floor. Nemuri isn’t in the room, but he can hear the shower running so he assumes that’s where she is. The largest mountain is laying beside Hizashi, so he doesn't worry too much about waking his friend while he gets up.

The regret of waking up is quickly followed by the headache of standing up. Then the irritation at overindulgence. Then the shock at his own hastiness the day before.

How the hell did he buy a farm less than a day, no, within hours of looking at it?

He moves to the kitchen. Taking a container of Pedialyte from the unofficial 'hangover cupboard' and downing it with a couple of aspirin that were left up there as well.

He drops down at the table to mourn the loss of his sanity and city life. He's also waiting for the headache to disperse enough for him to make breakfast or take a shower. He has a terrible feeling he reeks of the anxiety the realtor the day before was putting off in waves.

With some thought to the rest of the semester. To how little time it took to get everything done with buying the farm, Shouta lets his mind drift to what else will need doing.

A very least he'll need to buy a truck. Possibly he'll need to buy a commercial amount of lamps. And probably bed covers for all of the beds at the bunkhouse. He'll need to pack up his own home, well, the apartment he currently called home that he spent little to no time in. He needed to start researching lesson plans for farms. He also needed to decide what he would grow and what animals he would rear.

He's sure there are other things that his still slightly drunken mind couldn't think of. Sure to be equally important but unfortunately outside of his groggy mind.

It was just as he was getting deep in his thoughts that he realized the shower had gone off. Signaling that Nemuri would show up soon.

He drags himself upright as the seemingly fresh as a daisy Nemuri makes an appearance.

"Shouta, I hadn't expected you up so early. How's your head? " she sits down at the kitchen table next to him snagging the Pedialyte from in front of him.

“Well, I would be feeling better if I hadn't, bought an entire farm, yesterday. " He drops his head to the table once more, carefully so he doesn't injure it further.

His friend only laughs at his pain. Somehow despite her smaller frame she always managed to hold her liquor better than him. "Well darling, maybe if you hadn't drunk enough liquor to kill a cow in 10 minutes your head wouldn't be hurting quite so bad. " Shouta steals the Pedialyte back, drinking the rest.

"Well, maybe if I wasn't pressured into making choices that literally affected not only me but the entire school along with dozens of children now and in the future. Maybe I wouldn't feel driven to drink."

She gasps, "Oh my God once you leave we won't be able to go drinking anymore! "

“Really? that's what you're worried about right now? "

"No of course not. It just occurs to me that once you're out on that farm you're probably not going to be able to drink at all. I mean you'll probably be the only adult that those between two and twenty kids will have for miles. "

"That's a good point if I were even inclined to drink anywhere near as much as you and the loud one. But I don't drink as much as you two. Haven't you ever noticed I'm usually the designated driver?"

“Well I suppose that's true but, otherwise you're probably going to go stir crazy even faster. I mean, Hizashi and I are usually the ones taking you out to the bars even if you don't always come with us. We're still the only reason that you go out and have fun some days."

“You know I really don’t need to go out as often as you drag me out. Even then I don’t need to go out that often. And if I really need companionship I’m sure you or someone else could come spend a weekend with the kids.” Aizawa pauses, “Maybe I’ll ask Nezu about setting up a weekend shift or an emergency contact if I need to leave the farm for extended periods.”

“That’s not a bad idea. A rotating roster so people can plan around the weeks or weekends they may need to drive over would be a good idea too.” Nemuri adds, she starts filling up the coffee machine. “If you want to shower you should probably do so before ‘Hizashi gets in there.”

Shouta nods, heading to the shower just as Hizashi knocks over a mountain of empties in the other room. He shakes his head at the other’s over loud, exaggerated groan of pain. He snags a change of clothes from the bedroom before ensconcing himself in the bathroom.

After a shower and fresh clothes, he returns to the kitchen. He arrives in time to watch Hizashi flop about like a fish at the table while drinking the coffee Nemuri has given him as soon as he had reentered the room.

He ignores Hizashi and the loud complaints he has, instead focusing on his phone. He types out an email with a few questions for Nezu; whether it would be possible to set up rotating emergency contacts, and if he would need to stay within a certain limit for buying a work truck. He also noted the amount spent on the frankly huge farm and the state he had found the farm.

Tuning back into the conversation Shouta finds his friends discussing where to go for hungover lunch.

He tosses in his two cents about a greasy Americana diner he’s been meaning to visit and then tunes back out to enjoy his coffee while they argue. He’s going to have to go back out to the farm next weekend to do inventory on the house and the bunkhouse. There were desks and tables and beds but he can't remember if any of the rooms had lamps. There were likely going to be a lot of broken dishes over time. So he should figure out how much replacement dishes would be. That could be thought about later. He needs to get the power and water turned on and get internet out there if it wasn't already. He'd need to get estimates on animals and maintenance of the animals.

He tunes out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes with a response from Nezu.

It sums up to permission to buy any truck he deemed necessary, they have more than enough for it. Nezu will oversee setting up a rotating contact, and congratulations on the farm and a request to visit the farm in the near future.

Noting his battery percentage and the time he thanks Nezu for responding so quickly to his email and quickly details his plans for the week. Sending plans to get a truck and to start pricing animals.

He pours himself another cup as Hizashi drags himself moaning all the way to the shower.

He simply raises an eyebrow to Nemuri, who informs him they will be going to the diner. He nods and grabs a mobile charger from Hizashi's bedroom, plugging his phone in the wall while waiting for the loud blond to get out of the bathroom.

He starts looking up the kinds of enclosures that would work, before deciding that he would rather not do that right now. He finishes the coffee in his glass before going back for another. He’s starting to feel halfway human at this point, he could probably actually get some grading done today if he felt like it.

He wasn’t going to, though, he really should. He would have to make sure his remaining students would be well taken care of. Maybe repeating some of the previous year’s lessons would work. That would leave him time for focusing on getting the farm set up. He’d still have to adjust the plans to the current students but that would take less time.

He’s debating what lessons can be handed off to other teachers when Hizashi makes his loud appearance once again, “OHMYGOD WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?”

“Yelling in an apartment full of people with hangovers the first of many things. Now take some aspirin and let’s go. I need to look at trucks later.”

“Trucks? You just bought an ENTIRE farm!” Nemuri exclaims.

“I was just thinking one, though having multiple vehicles might be a better idea.” Shouta mock thinks aloud, not really intending to get two vehicles.

The three friends leave the apartment yelling about what a bad idea that would be, but Aizawa just laughs to himself about the reactions. Together they head to the little diner, whose food would hopefully be greasy and filling.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days find Shouta researching trucks. By the next Friday, he has a new truck that technically is part of the farm, but is -for all intents and purposes- his. 

By Saturday he’s heading to the farm in a truck all his own with a sleeping bag and a plan to be back at the school before class. He’s already made the calls for power and water. Though he plans to wait on the heating, he’s already made a call for getting internet connections put into the house. But that won’t happen for a couple of weeks yet.

The drive back to the farm is peaceful. Shouta doesn’t turn on the radio this time, he just drives with the windows cracked and tries to memorize as much of the drive as he can.

He’s pulled up a list of places in a nearby town to investigate while he’s out there. Better to figure out what places are worth eating in sooner rather than later. 

He stops in the small town before going to the farm. There are literally only two grocery stores in the town. As well as one small clothing shop, a small gym, and last but not least, a post office. A few other buildings seem to be small businesses. But what they do isn’t immediately obvious, so he ignores them in favor of pulling into the grocery store.

The store is small and he obviously draws attention from the other people in the store as a stranger. Every time he turns a corner there are people glancing at him. Most seem smart enough to not talk about him until he’s at least on the next aisle, but not all of them.

He listens as people talk, learning that most don’t think he’s anything more than a drifter. He doesn’t bother correcting them. Though he does acknowledge that he's going to have to learn to deal with them one day. Today simply isn't going to be that day.

The oven was electric, but he can’t remember if there was a microwave in the farmhouse. Adding it to his mental list of things he’ll need to buy for the farm he grabs a few simple dinners (no juice pouches, weirdly enough) and a case of water. In case the water at the farm takes some getting used to.

He pays quickly, the woman at the checkout looks like she could care less who he is and he’s grateful for her not attempting to make conversation.

Once at the farm he notices that the scarecrow wasn’t where he thought it was. He had it pegged for one of the fields closer to the barn but apparently, he was wrong. The scarecrow seems to watch him as he drives to the house.

He shakes off the outlandish thought. He's probably imagining that, as the shadows from the setting sun and the wind were moving everything a little.

The lights take a few seconds to come on when he flips the switch, he hadn’t noticed how dusty the whole place was the last time he was here.

He drops the groceries in the kitchen, he’ll put them away after grabbing everything else from his truck. The fridge doesn't sound like it’s running, and he’s glad he had the foresight to only grab shelf-stable foods.

The next trip to the truck is for the changes of clothes and the sleeping bag.

He adds changing the locks to his to-do list, he shuts the door behind him and locks the deadbolt. He heads upstairs this time. There are a couple of bedrooms up here, though, he can probably convert one into an office. He drops the bags onto the bed, and with a faint sense of horror watches a plume of dust rise from it. He’ll need to buy a new bed, he had been planning on it anyway. His old one was shit too.

Shrugging he goes back downstairs. He’ll have to actually write this list down at some point. Probably in the morning when he’s actually taking stock of everything.

He heads back to the kitchen to put away the groceries. If he leaves them lying out he’s just going to trip over them later. He has to look through most of the cupboards to find what areas aren’t already filled with something or other to put his food. The fridge, while seemingly the obvious option, is not an option as it seems to be from the ’80s and smells like something had died in there.

Replacement fridge, now on the list.

The cupboards are filled with dust, but at least he won’t need to buy any new dishes for a while. Or pots. Or pans. Or even spatulas and the like.

He’d have to do a lot of dishes at some point, but that could probably wait until he actually moved in. He’d most likely be able to avoid doing the dishes entirely on this trip. But he’d need to remember to take out the trash with him.

The stove turns on when he tries it, but it turns out that there’s no microwave. So he is going to have to try to cook properly. Which meant he'll have to dirty at least a few dishes, which means cleaning them first.

He checks the time on his phone and decides that he has enough time (today, at least) to start his investigation of the house before dinner.

He pulls a notebook out of his pocket and notes the few things in the kitchen he already notices he'll have to do. Replacing the lights and the fridge at the top of his list. He jots down replacing the locks, and the bed and clearing out the hayloft now that he thinks about it. In a slow left-hand pattern, he checks the dining room (which will probably need new lights as well). A living room (that looks like it hadn't changed much, but would probably also need new lights and possibly an entirely new lamp). A smaller room that looks like it may have been a child's room at some point but was empty now. He skips over the back door, for now, absentely noting that it also needs a new lock. Another room that could be a bedroom, another small sitting area, and what looks like an empty office. There's a door to the space under the stairs, which has the water heater and a few boxes that look to have been left behind accidentally. He resolves to go through them later but he really has no desire to. The last door opens to a smaller bathroom with a large tub, along with the washer and dryer.

He rechecks the back door to find it opens to a walled-in porch. More like a sunroom really, large panels of glass make up most of the ceiling and the walls. There's a door leading outside but it's all mostly made of glass, it would probably break under a hard wind. A couple of rocking chairs are out on the porch both points are towards where the sun sets. A few dead plants sit around the porch,  possibly ivy? And he's struck by a vision of how beautiful a room could be if it were given a chance to grow again.

He shakes off the strange thoughts, but he thinks he will spend the time to try to get new plants to grow here.

Going back inside, he wonders how many people had lived in this house at any given time. And how strange it was to be alone here. Here alone like he was, he was further away from any living person then he had been pretty much his entire life. Strangely though he doesn't hate the feeling, but then again he didn't really feel like he was alone. He felt that as much as he was studying the house, it was studying him back.

He goes back upstairs to investigate a couple of bedrooms, a bath, another sitting room, another bath attached to the master bedroom which he would be claiming shortly. The house mostly just needed new lights and a little bit of new furniture, maybe a paint job. But as far as he could tell, it didn't need any walls to be brought down or anything. No signs of water damage, and no obvious signs of electrical or plumbing needed. This meant that he could probably fix anything that broke, but it didn't look like much was broken right now. Of course, he'd still have to check the barn, and the bunkhouse, but he was starting to feel reasonably well about his choice.

His stomach rumbles and he's reminded of the late hour checking his phone he realizes that it's actually much later than he'd realized.

A look around the kitchen reveals that there are no sponges, or scrubby things, or really anything that could be used to clean a pot. Another thing added to the list.

Looks like he's eating dinner cold tonight.

The pre-made meal goes down fairly fast and when he's done he realizes he's honestly pretty tired. More so than he is most nights, and puts it up to the productive day he's had.

So he returns upstairs, not even bothering to change, and crawls into a sleeping bag but still laying on the floor. It's cold but he's not willing to risk it. He's reasonably certain there's probably critters living in the beds, and he really just doesn't want to deal with that right now. He falls asleep with his mind spinning with thoughts for the next day.

Come the morning, he groans to wakefulness at the sound of a rooster crowing. He didn't know why he was hearing a rooster crowing, he didn't know who had a rooster. But he was going to kill the rooster. 

He goes down to the kitchen, and pulls out a container of instant coffee, thanking the version of him from yesterday to think to bring it. He snags a bottle of water in his half-conscious state, he doesn’t trust that the water is safe to drink right now. He dumps the water in the coffee pot that had been left behind by a previous owner. Then barely waits for the water to heat up before pouring in the coffee and chugging it like a shot. 

He blinks out the kitchen and window surprised that he can actually see the scarecrow from where he's standing. Looking at it he remembers his strange dreams from the night before, either the new environment had affected his subconscious and had weird dreams about being abducted by aliens. Or he had actually been abducted by aliens. But he remembers blue lights from his dreams, once does seem to shine on the ceiling, this despite the fact that there was no feasible light source that could have cast them.

Shaking it off, it was probably just a bad dream anyway (though it didn't really felt like a dream (or even a bad one at that)) He set about tearing open one of his juice pouches and chugging the contents. He had a lot to do today, a bare minimum of checking out the bunkhouse, and the barn and possibly making a trip into town to see what needed to be arranged. He also needed to make a call to somebody, anybody, to connect the internet to the house, considering he was definitely going to need it for the classes.

With his plan for the day fleshed out for the most part he grabs his notebook once more, this time with the plan of checking the pipes. 

Though the water was supposed to be turned on at some point throughout the last week, he isn’t surprised when it takes a couple of minutes for the kitchen faucet to actually start spitting something out. Though it looks more like really liquid clay than water. The amount of… whatever it is is slowly filling the sink. Ir’s reaching about a third of the way up and filling him with dread before the pipe sputter and suddenly run with brown water, rust-colored, brown again, yellow, then clear water. He lets it run for a while longer to rinse out the rest of the gunk formerly filling the pipes before moving to the next faucet and repeating. 

This one also has gunk and dirty water, but it clears faster than the first. As do the next and the one after that. Spending a few minutes to work up the nerve to actually try it, when he does he's pleasantly surprised by the lack of strong flavor. There's a slight hint of dirt but that's probably just his imagination after watching all the dirt and such come out of the pipes. 

When it comes to checking the water to the washer he finds the knuts holding it in place are pretty old looking, and just rusted enough that he can’t loosen them without tools. 

He adds finding tools to his To Do\To Buy list, then moves to test the pipe upstairs, which also have a worrying amount of settlement but nowhere near the levels of the ground floor. 

He considers checking if the attic has any kinds of water pipes, but decides that can be checked later. It seems unlikely to him that anyone would put bathing or washing facilities in the attic. 

He adds going through the attic to his list a couple of pages in, he knows he really needs to do it if only to clear up the space for storage for his class and whoever follows. But he reasons with himself that it’s a good project for later in the year when he’s run through all his ideas for preparing the farm for students and needs something else to do. 

The next step, of course, is to check the bunkhouse’s water supply. He’ll probably just have to run the water like in the main house, but it’s something that will have to be done sooner or later anyway. 

The day is warmer than he had expected, both for the season and the hour. The sun is well over the horizon by the time he leaves his (his, what an odd way to think of a house) house. Pausing just off the front porch, he closes his eyes and drops his head back to face the sun. Breathing the fresh air he wonders at the clean, clear smell of it. For a moment he misses the smell of the city, but he shakes the thought away, the air is easier to breathe here. He’ll enjoy it as it’s own unique trait of the area he finds himself in before wishing for the familiar. 

The bunkhouse steps are solid, some kind of heavy wood that would need sanding and repainting, well built and strong. He adds sanding and painting to the closer to the end sections of the To Do list. Then adds lawn chairs to the shopping side of the list. The front deck is huge, big enough for a dozen people to lay across it and still not touch each other. For the most part at least. 

The houses and barn will need fresh paint as well, but that could probably wait till spring, or maybe even summer. 

When he gets to the kitchen he flushes the pipes not surprised by the amount of gunk filling the pipes. When he gets to the bathroom he's pleasantly surprised by the fact that it's larger than the one at the house It's still obviously intended for multiple people to share.

The multiple bathrooms ensure that he'll definitely have to spend a lot on water and electricity, but it also means that he can probably assign bathroom duty as one job rather than multiple jobs. Or rather making sure everyone individually cleans their own bathroom. With the kitchen and most of the bathrooms taking the rest of the morning he's surprised to find that it's almost noon by the time he finally takes a break. The warm morning had given way to an unprecedentedly warm day and as he treads back through to the house he thinks about what kind of animals he'll be able to get sooner or later, and when what plants will be able to plant.

 Lunch is a premade bento, the rice is a little stiff and the meat has a slight smell to it, so maybe these weren't as shelf-stable as he thought they were. He turns to use his phone as something to waste time while he eats but just once again reminded that there's no internet and he didn't think to download anything to his phone beforehand. More than slightly irritated at his lack of forethought and at the fact that there's still no internet here despite the fact that he didn't really think there would be He instead calls his loud friends.

To his surprise, the phone is picked up almost immediately less than two rings, "SHOUTAAAAAAA!" Is screeched through the phone, fortunately, he's had enough practice over his life to know to hold the phone away from his head when first calling people.

 "Hizashi!"  He admonishes.

 "Sorry man, I honestly just wasn't expecting to hear from you at all for this weekend!"

 "Well, I finished with part one of step one. So I figured I'd take the chance and call you and Nemuri to see how you're doing this weekend without me. "

 "To be honest man, we're mostly just waiting to hear how the house is," Hizashi says. Shouta can hear Nemuri saying something in the background. There's the sound of general ruckus from the other end of the phone and then Nemuri's voice.

"Darling, is it worse than you thought, are you going to give up on it?" Aizawa shakes his head. Then realize that she can't see him.

 "No, it's not that bad. In fact, as far as I can tell, it only needs some scrubbing and a few coats of paint and I'll be good as new! Maybe even better."

This obviously isn't what she wants to hear, "But Sho-!"

“I’ve still got the barn to check, so who knows if I’ll have to pull that down. But on the upside, it would be really easy to replace. After all, what is a barn but four wooden walls and some, what, columns or something? It'd be easy, I'd just need a little bit of help for that, mostly strong-arm labor." Shouta barely avoided grinning at the horrified silence coming from the other end of the phone and he could hear on the other end of the film. He knew that his friends would probably be making terrible terrible faces.

"You guys would be totally willing to help with it right? I mean, after all, that's what friends are for, right? That's the whole point of a barn reason, getting your friends and community together to show your support. It will be fun! " He could have heard a coin drop from the other end of the call. He's honestly surprised but neither of them had hung up on him yet.

“Shouta, you don't actually mean that right?" Hizashi said nervously, his voice the only thing really audible over the phone at this point.

"Of course I do! That's what friends are for. You scratch my back I scratch yours. I'm sure I've done more than enough for you over the years for you to help me with this one little thing.” Shouta grins at the barren fields around the house, he can’t see the looks on his friends’  faces, but he can imagine it more than well enough.

“Shouta, you know that Hizashi and I would have no idea what we were doing.” Nemuri’s voice comes across and Shouta grins at that too.

“Well neither do I but I’m learning how to do everything out here myself. Come on! You said you’d support me on this!” 

“Of course we support you, we just probably aren’t able to help you that way. I’m sure there are other ways we could help though!” Nemuri offers.

“Ah, so willing to help with everything but heavy labor, huh?” Shouta softens his voice, his words are a little mean but he wants to make sure by the tone they know he’s playing.

“Well, yes man! Have you looked at me recently? I’m skin and bones! I don’t know how I’d be able to help build a barn.” Hizashi pipes in.

“I think the point is that it's teamwork. I mean, there were supposed to be barn raisings all the time way back when, so it’s probably not that hard. Whatever, anyway. What have you two been doing without me to act as the voice of reason?” Shouta leans against one of the supports, listening to the immediate babble that comes across the phone. 

The gist of it is that they haven’t gotten into any trouble without him there, and how could you assume that we immediately would?

Shouta could name a dozen times over the kinds of trouble they get into when he’s not around. But he’s not going to start that fight yet. 

“You guys should help me pick out a couple of cats next weekend. If I’m going to have barn cats I should probably at least try to socialize them before the students get here.” It’s getting on towards mid-afternoon, he’ll need to check the barn before he can call it a day. From the look around with the realtor, it had been in fairly decent shape. 

“YES OF COURSE WE’LL BE THERE!” Hizashi shouts and, oof, Shouta hadn’t been able to get his phone away from his ear in time. 

“But you have to be QUIET Hizashi. Or you’ll just scare all the cats.” He admonishes.

“YEAH, yeah! Of course man! I’ll be quiet, I’ll be so quiet you won’t even know I’m there. The cats definitely won’t know I’m there. Until SNEAK ATTACK PETTING! But super quiet!” Shouta laughs at his friend’s enthusiasm and dammit, Nezu was right. This, this was exactly what he needed. To get excited about new things. 

He also needed to get someone to get internet set up at his house because he needed to look up how to make sure barn cats didn’t get worms or anything.

Letting his mind wander while his friends argue over cat names, Shouta reworks his list for the next time he’s in town. There’s not a lot he need-needs, but he’s starting to figure out the things that would at least make his life easier over the next little bit.

Chapter Text

The hardware store was on the smaller side from the ones Shouta had seen in the city. Granted, this one was in the middle of a farming town and had the interior to match. So it probably didn’t need all the extra bits and bobs that the hardware stores back home had. The screw, nail, and bolt section seemed more than full though, with a million different sizes of each as though there only to mock him. 

"Let's see, what size was I supposed to get? An inch or inch and a half..." Aizawa muttered as he perused the shelves with their little drawers. Each so very carefully labeled, but that didn't help him when he couldn't remember the actual size that he was looking for.

"Do you think that's him?" The words, as quietly spoken as they are, tickle the edge of Shouta's thoughts, he had already registered the two men who had entered the aisle after him, but he hadn't paid them any real mind. He's not sure which man spoke them until the other responds slightly louder than the first, likely bolstered by his lack of reaction. 

"Yeah, I've seen him around but he never talks with anyone." The second is blatantly staring at him but doesn't seem to notice the quick look Shouta gives him. 

"But he's definitely the guy living at the haunted farm?" The first asks again, still as quiet as he was before. Shouta has to stifle a snort of laughter before it gives the two the impression he wants to talk to them.

"It's cursed not haunted stupid!" The second says, at this point not even bothering with whispering.

Aizawa sighs trying to ignore them, why didn't he write down the size he needed when he was making the list? It would have saved him the unnecessary human contact.

"Hey! Hey, Mister!" The first guy says, now blatantly trying to get Shouta's attention.

Looks like he can't just ignore them today.

"You talking to me?" Aizawa says, hoping it's not him. He spares the rest of the aisle a quick look on the off chance someone else was there and he didn't notice.

"Yeah, you! You live at the haunted farm right!" The question comes out as more of a statement than anything else, and Shouta doesn't get the chance to respond before the other blurts out.

"I just told you it's cursed not haunted stupid!" The second boy, because that's really what the two of them are, probably in their early twenties at the latest. Shouta thinks it might be worth it to try to just leave while the two are distracted with each other.

Aizawa starts to turn away, he'll come back to this aisle later when there aren't locals trying to confirm if his farm is haunted or cursed.

"Wait, mister wait, you live on the farm right?" The first guy shouts, quickly getting close to him in an attempt to keep him from getting away before answering their questions. 

"I'm fixing up a farm outside of town, yes. I've yet to see any signs that it's haunted." Aizawa blatantly lies, he's not about to discuss what he's been seeing with some random hicks in the middle of the hardware store. If he had wanted to do that he would have gotten roaring drunk first or just gone to the little bar in town instead.

"But what about the blue demon? Have you see it?" The second guy presses, not willing to let Shouta just leave a conversation he really wants absolutely no part in. 

"The- What? No, I haven't seen any 'blue demons.' There's no such thing. And you're as much of a fool as your friend if you really think that they exist." Shouta answers in his best 'I'm the teacher and I'm disappointed in you' voice. The two men completely ignore his tone though and keep pressing.

"Wait, wait, wait, you've really been there for like a month and you still haven't seen it?" The second man says as he moves so he's physically blocking Shouta's path. The only reason Shouta doesn't physically remove the other man from his path is that he has no desire to get arrested this week, especially not due to these two dunderheads.  

"Whoa, are you like, a witch or something?" The first asks, he's shorter than the second, thinner too. Shouta could probably move him easier than moving the other one. 

The words take a moment to register. "A witch?" Aizawa asks, exasperated and completely done with this conversation, but curious what they mean in the manner of a person looking at a car crash as they pass.

"Shut up stupid! Witches are girls!" The second says. Aizawa decides to now completely ignore the two boys, who look younger and younger to him the longer they bicker.

"I'm leaving now. I'm not answering any more of your questions. I suggest you get back to school before you're arrested for truancy." Aizawa says finally, taking a parting stab at their ages before leaving the isle. Sadly sans the screws that were the entire reason he had come to this part of the store. He'd round back later, he still needed to pick up some hinges and a couple of doorknobs anyway.

He could hear the boys continue bickering behind him as he leaves the section of the store, now apparently arguing with each other about which one of them scared him off. 

What the hell is up with people in this town? He thinks to himself as he continues working his way down his small shopping list.

This kind of thing would never happen back home. His thoughts carry on. 

In the city, they just mind their own damn business unless they need something from you. The only time he had been cornered like that in the past was when a couple of little, old ladies had begged him to grab things off of high shelves for them, and even then they were completely polite about it and didn't take a second more of his time than they absolutely needed to get what they wanted and thank him. 

There’s no way that damn house is haunted or cursed. I’ve just spent too long alone there. I’m sure everything will be fine once there are some other people there.

The two boys' name for the, well, whatever the hell it was, was better than any of the things that had come to Shouta's mind when thinking about the thing also occupying the farm. But it never felt hostile the way that all the stories that Shouta had unwillingly picked up about Demons said they were.

For one thing, he was fairly certain that they didn't help around the farm.

Chapter Text

For all the man boasted of generally disliking people and the noise that came from them, it didn't even take a month for Shouta to start talking to himself for any kind of human interaction. 

He had thought about calling Nemuri and Hizashi more often, but that felt like admitting defeat. Instead Shouta took to often murmuring his chores to himself in the morning, if asked he would say that it was a memorization tactic so that he didn't forget what he needed to do. But in reality, it was to hear a voice, any voice. The farm was large and there was a lot to be done all day every day. The only times he got to hear from other people were when he went into town to pick up tools, supplies, or sometimes just food. Or when he called Nezu to keep the older man informed about how the farm was going. Then, last but not least, and usually not planned by him, the calls from Hizashi and Nemuri, who called at all hours of the day but at least had grown some respect for his newly born sleep schedule and didn't call at night. 

Admittedly Shouta missed his friends, they had kept him from becoming a complete hermit for most of his teenage years along with all of his twenties. They may have been hours and miles away, but they were still there in some ways. Their calls weren't quite like having them bust into his classroom or apartment every day, but it was almost good enough.

As it was, if they ever learned that Shouta had taken up talking to himself to chase away the loneliness they'd never let him live it down. 

As he was walking from the house towards the barn he went over his to-do list for that day, “Let’s see, first feeding and releasing the chickens, then goats and sheep. Maybe I should invest in a cow or two?” 

Shouta wasn't actually a big fan of cows. He liked milk well enough but beef could be substituted with something else and most people probably wouldn't notice. Maybe. He'd never actually tried substituting it when cooking for anyone but himself and wasn't about to do it just to test a theory he was fairly certain he was right about. And either way, Shouta had the goats for milk, so he probably didn't actually need cows. They were big and took up a lot of space anyway.

The list he had for fixing up the farm was fairly long, but many of the things he had done in the last few months, some he was planning on being 'teaching moments' for the students. Some he was fully planning of foisting off onto the students because they weren't prudent or important to the structure of the house.

“I wonder what on my list I can skip today. I need to go grocery shopping but I might be able to just go once before the students get here if I plan accordingly.” He releases the chickens and the goats, then moves on the sheep. Most of the sheep are looking extremely fluffy, not terribly huggable though. The urine yellow and dirt brown spoke of them rolling in terrible things, and he wasn't eager to have to sheer them later in the year, though that would wait until closer to the end of spring.

That could be a real learning opportunity.

Shouta then returns to the-frankly-too-massive-for-one-man farmhouse. Even with his touches, well, Nemuri's touches, the place didn't feel much like his. The only places on the farm that really felt like his were the small bedroom turned office on the second floor and the former lounge and bedroom that had a wall removed to make them a decent-sized classroom. 

Neither of the places was perfect, but they were better than what he had started with. 

The kitchen didn't really feel like it was his, but the mementos and decorations gave it a lived-in feel. Like there was someone who lived here, someone who knew how to decorate even. It didn't feel quite right, but it was good enough. The pictures of a couple of staff parties and a few nights out that Hizashi had 'Donated,' really did help most days.

Though there were the bad days. The days where the memories of everything Shouta had given up for a dream that wasn’t even his own that would and could possibly fail at any moment. 

That’s not true though. Shouta had seen the essays sent in by over a dozen potential students who were asking to be a part of the program this coming quarter. He still needed to read over the essays to see if he needed to change the essay parameters or perhaps not accept some of the people signing up. But that would have to wait till after breakfast. At least.

Morning chores done, breakfast weighed on his mind. At least when the students got here Shouta wouldn't have to make himself food as often. Which was something he was grateful for and very, very worried about. He had learned to cook because otherwise, he would have spent the rest of his life eating prepackaged bentos and other forms of take out. Not that he really had a problem with that, but Nemuri was sure he was going to die of scurvy or something if he didn’t learn to make at least a few healthy meals. 

He starts digging through the fridge. Breakfast was usually a simple affair, he’d have oatmeal most mornings with fruit and usually some form of protein. The fridge was looking a little bare, and apparently, he’d used the last of the eggs and forgotten to put it on the shopping list. 

Going in town hadn’t really been in his plans, but, “At very least I need to get eggs.” 

He thinks about the chickens that weren’t too far away from the house, when did they start laying? Was it twenty-something weeks? How old were they now? This might be why so many of those homesteading and stay-at-home-mom-farmers suggested keeping such intent notes on all their animals. It probably wasn’t worth it for the chickens individually, but it might be worth it for the whole flock. Definitely for the goats and sheep though. And maybe for the cats if only to keep an eye on when he had medicated them and when it would need to happen again.

“Note… to… self… When… do… Rhode Island chickens… lay… eggs.” He pauses in his digging of the fridge to add the notes about the chickens and keeping slightly more data on them to his notebook. It was getting fuller every day but he was also crossing up to a dozen things from it each day as. 

“I can keep with the breakfasts I have been, that’s probably the best bang for my nutrients anyway. I’ll figure out a list when I’m done with the animals.” Shouta looked out the kitchen window as he ate, from here he couldn't see the scarecrow. 

It was probably moved by some of the local kids again. Were they trying to scare him off the farm? The property was huge, surely before now people had tried to buy it and parson it out. If Shouta was looking to make money, that's what he'd do. As it was, just moving the creepy scarecrow around wasn't doing more than making him want to buy security cameras. 

The scarecrow was admittedly a fairly creepy, descicated thing. It was all weather-worn and too thin, too long too. Too long for any human, but maybe that was just how they signaled that it wasn't a real person in there. 

Now that was a creepy thought. 

The scarecrow needed replacing, but Shouta wasn't going to do it tonight, or this week, or, really, probably not any time in the near future. Sure it was creepy, and that didn't make him want to do it sooner, but it seemed to be doing its job well enough. 

The weirdest thing about the scarecrow, to Shouta at least, was how much the cats seemed to love it. Every day, all day the cats sat around the base of the scarecrow's post. Didn't matter where the scarecrow was, didn't matter the weather -well, within reason- the cats were always there. 

Breakfast done and plan for the day more or less complete, Shouta made his way to the barn, he had set up the food in there after debating putting it near the coop. Better to not have additional things that might cause predators to focus on the chickens.

From there he set off for the chicken coop, only to be startled by the scarecrow having been set up behind the chicken coop and facing towards the woods to the north of the property. 

“The scarecrow moved again," Shouta murmurs to himself, "at least this time it’s not faced towards the house.” He eyes the scarecrow wearily, he might move getting rid of it further up his to-do list. This was getting a little ridiculous. 

The chickens and ducks were louder than usual this morning, he couldn't hear himself open and close the gate to their enclosure over their kerfuffle. 

“Good morning chick chick chick-" Shouta called out to them only to see the blood all over the floor. There are two dead and partially torn apart chickens that he can see, along with the body of a coyote, it's body sprawled in the middle of the floor. That was probably what all the noise was about. 

“Ah shit, is it dead or asleep?” He left the door to the coop open, and the chickens and ducks ran out behind him, he grabbed the shovel that sits outside the cage and prodded the creature a couple of times. Only sparing a short thought for his own foolishness. The predator didn't move, and after Shouta watched it for a moment he noted that it wasn't breathing.  

“Dead then. How did it-?” He pushed it over, looking for any sign of what killed it. Most of it's body is stiff and hard, but it's head still lulled around. He knew what that meant. 

“And a broken neck!" There's nothing obvious on the outside that would explain away how the creature had a broken neck. It was far from all the walls and the hole that Shouta could now see was the coyote's entrance. There's no blood on its neck but plenty on the muzzle. 

"That’s, who, how?” Shouta can only sputter to himself. There is no good explanation that Shouta can think of that would explain what killed the creature, and why.

“Shit, do I have to report this somewhere?" The thought suddenly occurs to him, "How the hell am I going to explain this?” He can't, not really. 

“There’s no blood leading away, what the hell could have killed this coyote?” He circled the coyote, as though looking at it from different angles might tell him what or who killed the coyote.

There, boot tracks. Shouta double checks that the tracks aren't his own, but he knows these aren't. The tread from whoever's boots left these tracks is almost gone, and worn nearly all the way down. The outline is massive, whoever left the tracks would have to wear massive boots, maybe a size 15 or larger. It's impossible to take a guess at how tall the person was, they were definitely too tall to take normal steps in the short coop. The prints disappear on the hard ground next to the coop, leading towards the scarecrow but there's no telling where they went from there. 

He looked at the scarecrow again, like maybe there'll be some sign of what happened on it. 

He noted that the head of it has lolled so it's looking more at the house now than it was when he first went into the coop.

A little strange, Shouta hadn't heard or felt any wind today.

The scarecrow's boots have muck on them, which is already pretty odd, but the boots match what he had been expecting to look for when trying to figure out who had been wandering around the chicken coop. 

Did someone steal the scarecrow's boots and then put them back? That would be really weird.

What would be the point? Stealing the shoes of a scarecrow just long enough to kill a coyote and then putting them back? 

Maybe the scarecrow was alive. Sure yeah, that would be the easiest answer. The scarecrow is alive and it’s been doing stuff around the farm and it killed a coyote that was killing his chickens. 

For some reason.

Fuck. 

Was this place actually haunted by some kind of demon scarecrow?

Chapter Text

Shouta left the scarecrow and the chicken coop. He dragged the coyote out of the coop and out of the chicken yard.

He'd take it somewhere in his truck later. 

The dead chickens he took out of the coop and tossed in the trash. There was no question about how they died, and considering he didn't know how long they had been dead he probably shouldn't eat them.

A quick count revealed those two were the only ones that were even harmed other than a few ruffled feathers. 

He went through the rest of his chores and his list, the thought, horrifying as it was, still circled his head. 

Was the scarecrow alive? 

The thought went around and around Shouta's head. Around and around, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from the thought it came back. Was the scarecrow alive? It couldn't be. There was no way that it could be. But the other alternatives were that people in the nearby town were trying to help in the middle of the night, which was weird and pretty unlikely. Or maybe he was doing more at night while sleepwalking. Which was unlikely. Everything was unlikely. But some things were more possible than others but still impossible.

“Shit. Shit! Shit shit shit. Shitshitshit!” Shouta paced around the living room. The sun was down, there was nothing else for him to do tonight but think. Here and now there was nothing to stop him from apocryphysing. 

Was it alive? Why was it alive? And it was killing the coyotes. It wasn't alive, it couldn't be. It was a scarecrow. 

“It is alive. It’s not just alive. It’s out here killing GOD DAMN COYOTES!” Shouta yelled in the shaking silence of the house. The silence rang with the nonexistent echoes of his yelling.

He hated this.

If it was alive how was he going to let the students, anyone actually, come here?

“How the hell am I going to let kids come here in good conscience?” He turned to pace the living room again. And again. And again. 

“I can’t.” He stopped. If the scarecrow was alive. If it could kill a coyote just like that. He couldn't put the students in danger like that. There was no telling if the creature, the scarecrow, the thing, would kill him, or the students if given half a chance. 

“Shit. I’m going to have to call Nezu and tell him to cancel everything. Tell him everything, he won't believe me otherwise. Hell, he might not believe me at all." How could Nezu believe him though? IT was strange. It wasn't just strange, it was impossible! Nezu wouldn't believe him. It was impossible. Nezu wouldn't believe him.

“I can’t do that. So much money has already been sunk into this to give up now.” He returns to pacing. Around and around and around. He's long since sunk money onto the farm and the truck and repairing in all. If he failed to teach the students. There was no way he could pay back the money. At least not really. Not this far into the enterprise that it all was.  

“But if any of the kids get hurt? Killed?” He stopped. He couldn't let any kids get hurt. Not here. Not in a way that was preventable. He couldn't do it. 

“Then again the scarecrow seems to only be able to move at night. And it’s almost spring. The days are only going to get longer." He returned to pacing. He was going to burn a hole in the rug if he kept up like that, but he couldn't stop. "Maybe if I make the curfew dusk? Then the students have a more or less concrete time to be inside and I don’t have to worry about the scarecrow getting them.” They might not listen. They can't always, they are teenagers. They ignore authority figures, that's what they do. But it was something.

“But then again, I snuck out past my curfew all the time when I was a teen.” There was nothing that Shouta’s parents could have threatened him with that would have stopped him. In fact, nothing did. The desire was too strong. If there was nothing that would have stopped him there probably wouldn't be anything to stop them.

Shouta took a moment to think. 

What could work?

What could work?

What could work?

“Mandatory expulsion for being out after dark!" 

Surely Shouta sounded insane to any outsider, but he knew it had to be done. 

It was a hefty punishment but if it was enough to slow them down, then it was worth it. More than worth it. "That should be severe enough to keep them in line. I’ll bring it up to Nezu next time I talk to him.” Nezu would probably think he was insane. He sunk down onto the ancient sofa in the middle of the living room. He needed a smoke. Or something. Not a smoke. He had been good about smoking for over a month at this point. This wouldn't be enough to make him start again.

“But what could be dangerous enough to have expulsion as a good punishment? Other than super creepy, potentially cursed or possessed scarecrow?”

He stood to pace around the living room again.

What was dangerous but common? What could be here, and life-threatening enough that he could, no, had to threaten immediate expulsion?

“Coyotes! Of course!" They were there, he already had one break into the chicken coop, (He still needed to set up a better patch on the coop than he had put up today).

"They already killed some of the chickens, it’s reasonable enough to think they might attack a student!”

Perfect! That was a perfect reason why the kids couldn't be out after dark! And was perfectly reasonable, and understandable. Parents might not be happy if their kids were expelled for being out after dark, but once he explained the 'reasoning' behind it they would probably understand. Hopefully. Definitely. Possibly.

“Dammit.” He stopped again. There would always be a threat while that thing was around. Was alive. Was, here. On the farm. On his farm. He needed to get rid of it. Or destroy it somehow. 

“I can’t just destroy the thing, it’s alive." Was it though? Maybe. But there were other factors to consider. "The coyote was killed so neatly, if I fail it won’t just be me at risk.” He could be at risk. They would be at risk. But there wasn't any way for him to make sure it would leave the kids alone. He could try, something. He could, what? What could he do? What could be done? 

“I can threaten it!" The thought felt hysterical. It might even sound hysterical, the way it claws out of his throat. "Scare it into staying away from the kids. At least for this semester." At least for now. If it worked it would give him more time to start things. It would give him time. 

He needed time. More time. He hadn't seen the creature move. He didn't know if it was alive, or anything like that. But, it needed to be gotten rid of. He needed to deal with it, and he needed to deal with it before the students got hurt. He needed to deal with it before anyone got hurt. 

But how?

Chapter Text

Shouta returned to pacing.

How, exactly, would one threaten a scarecrow of indeterminant state of being? What would work? 

Everything? Nothing?

“I have to keep the kids safe." He told himself. "I have to keep the scarecrow away from the kids."

He walked to the window. Shouta couldn't see the scarecrow from here, but he knew where the scarecrow was this morning, he knew where through the wall he'd have to look. "Away from the house, and the bunkhouse. But how?”

How-how-how?

“I’m going out there.” Scaring or threatening the scarecrow from inside his house wouldn't work. That would do nothing and at worse just make him look less intimidating. He had to go out there, now, and do something -anything- that might, well, scare the scarecrow. Anything to make it think he's crazy enough to go through with, whatever threats he's going to make up on the spot.

It was dark outside. The scarecrow could be anywhere. Could be doing anything. Could be waiting just outside his door to snap his neck like it snapped the coyote's. 

He grabbed the shotgun that he had bought mostly just for show and loaded it. Shouta needed to get this done. He only has a couple of days till the kids get here and he couldn't just exist with the threat of this monster looming over him. Looming over the students.

Stopping at the door, Shouta paused to gather himself.

This was crazy. He might be crazy. Who knows. But he had to do this.

(Does he though? He could just go back into the house and pack it all upandjustnevercomeback-)

He had to do this and do it right then, before he talked himself out of it.

Throwing open the door, Shouta runs out onto the porch, looking, looking, there! There it was. The cross was still sitting near the chicken coop but then, right then he could see the creature moving. He watched the glow from its eyes move around in the dark, the most visible part of it. He's seen that glow before.

That thing was looking in his room before!

“Hey! Hey!” Shouta shouted trying to get the creature's attention. It worked. Unfortunetly. Those glowing blue eyes locked onto Shouta and he couldn't see anything but them.  

“Yeah, you!” He shouted at the creature, trying now to actually draw its attention (Why oh why is he doing this? For the kids, for the kids, for the kids.)

Shouta's limbs were frozen, shaking with adrenaline but outside of Shouta's control as the creature got closer and closer. It moved slowly, but the movements were made like the creature is trying to move towards him very slowly. A noise somewhere between a cat growling and a rasp of metal against metal comes from the creature, low and heartstopping. 

It was enough to give Shouta the kick in the pants he needed.

“HEY! There- There are going to be kids out here tomorrow! And- And you’re going to stay away from them!” He held the gun up and pointed it at the scarecrow. The creature stopped where it stood, its head twisted down almost all the way to its shoulder.

“You’re going to stay away from them or else!” Shouta's heart was pounding, thudding in his chest like it had a hammer and was going to run from the creature without him. He could hear the low hellish noises coming from the creature over the blood rushing through his head. He could feel his knees trying to give out, so he locked them. It was not a good idea, but anything to keep him from falling over. The tip of the gun was waving back and forth from the strength of the tremors running through him and Shouta prayed the scarecrow couldn't see it.

“You are going to stay away from them, this house, and the bunkhouse!" He casted around for a good threat, a better threat, "I will learn how to destroy you if I have to! Don’t make me do it!” 

Why would Shouta just admit he didn't actually know how to kill it! Shit!

The scarecrow started the rasping growling noise again, raising its arms like a black and white horror movie zombie. 

Shouta couldn't make himself be out there any longer. He stumbled and nearly dropped the gun in his haste to get back inside. 

Slamming the door shut, Shouta exhaled, then leaned against it.

“Holy shit.” He murmured as he sunk to the ground, hopefully out of sight of any of the windows. "Holy shit." 

He saw the scarecrow move. Heard its noises. This wasn't just something the locals were spreading rumors about, this was something real and he had just threatened it. Not only had he threatened it, but he had also acknowledged that it actually existed in the first place! Weren't there so many rules with magic things about not acknowledging them and not giving them power?

“I just acknowledged it!" He whisper yelled to himself, "Does that mean it has more power now? Can it do more? Was my not admitting it was real the only thing keeping it out of the house?"

He stood, holding the gun to his chest like a teddy bear, "What the Hell is it anyway?”

He'd only watched one movie with Nemuri and Hizashi that had a scarecrow as the antagonist, but they never really went in-depth on what they were or why they were.

“I shouldn’t have said anything."

What was Shouta going to do now? What could he do now?

"Shit, shit, shit, shit.” 

He moved as slowly and silently as he could manage and peaked out a window in the living room. 

The scarecrow is pointed at the house. Its eyes are still glowing, but it doesn't appear to be moving. Just standing there. Not doing anything but watching the house. 

“Shit shit shit shit.” Had it seen him? Was it waiting to kill him? Was it able to get into the house now?

The surge of life the adrenaline had given him was quickly leaving him now, and his limbs were like leaden weights. Shouta could, probably should, stay up the whole night. Make sure the thing didn't get into the house, or the bunkhouse. He could watch it the way it was watching the house, just waiting for some kind of movement. Anything that could be malicious, or intent to try to get in to kill him. Or he could just go to bed, it was already late. 

“If it’s going to break into the house to kill me, it will." He kept the gun in his hands but headed to the stairs. "Staying up all night won’t help.” 

He skipped his usual shower but still changed clothes. Shouta still peeked out his bedroom window, but couldn't see the scarecrow from there. 

Was the scarecrow going to try to break in through the front door? 

It hadn't moved at all from when he closed the door. Maybe it only moved when someone was looking at it? No, it had been moving when there was no one else around. Maybe he had scared it. 

He had probably only confused the thing. Maybe it was trying to figure out what just happened. After all, Shouta would probably be pretty confused if some guy came out of nowhere and threatened him for no good reason. 

"No!" He told himself sternly, throwing himself into the bed. Shouta will not sympathize, or empathize with something that sounds like it came from the bowels of hell. Something that looked like it might have escaped from hell.

But that would explain why so many people had referred to it as a demon. 

A glance at his phone told Shouta it was already almost ten, which would explain why he was so tired. How many hours had he spent in the living room just pacing? 

Too many.

Had he eaten dinner? He couldn't remember now, his head had been stuck wondering if the scarecrow was alive. But it was! The scarecrow was alive and Shouta had to deal with it more than he already had.

There would be students here soon.

People he'd have to make sure were safe somehow. 

Shouta didn't usually dream, but that night he did.

He dreamt of bright blue lights and bright red blood and tossed and turned the whole night through.

Chapter Text

The morning the students are set to show up, Shouta treats as any other morning. He gets up and feeds the animals. Checks for eggs in the chicken coops. Checks the goats for sores and the like. Shouta really needed to research this more.

When that's done he makes a note of the time, almost seven. That gives him plenty of time to make himself breakfast and go over his lists. 

He'd been a little surprised at that number of people who had signed up, he hadn't even been expecting two, but here he had eight students who, as far as he could tell, were more or less all good students with good records. There had been other people who signed up, but based on the essays they had written, Shouta was fairly certain they wouldn’t be good fits. 

None of them seemed to have any background in agriculture or farming. Though the short essays that he had gotten from each seemed to tell that they were excited to try. 

Really that's all he could ask of any of them right now. 

He got a summarized medical file for each, what medications they were currently on and why, allergies, and anything that could limit what they could do on the farm. The only ones he had any concern about were Katsuki Bakugou, who seemed to have some anger issues, Momo Yaoyoroza, who was on some antidepressants, and Izuku Midoriya, who was on some mood stabilizers. It looked like Mina Ashido didn't eat meat, and Denki Kaminari was allergic to a lot of things and had an inhaler he was supposed to carry around.

He'd gotten the supplies for plenty of sandwiches yesterday, he briefly spares a thought to be glad that he'd had the foresight to get a variety of options. At least this way he could make some that were allergen-free and meat-free so the kids who didn't or couldn't eat them would be able to. 

He doesn't remember a lot about his own eating habits when he was a teen. But in his time as a teacher, he'd come to see that most students ate anything and everything they could fit in their mouth and then some. They were like toddlers, only less drooly and with more sass overall. 

He liked most of the kids he had taught over the years. Usually, he had no problems with them as long as they honestly tried, and asked for help when they needed it.

The sandwiches, despite his best efforts to reduce time by making an assembly line of the food, had not actually decreased the time all that much in his favor. It was almost 11 by the time all was said and done, but at least there was likely more than enough food for all the kids. 

The bus would be showing up soon, so he rechecked where he was planning on putting all the kids and made sure that everything was in place. 

Just as he's heading back to the main house does the short bus carrying his new students show up. 

Shouta takes a moment to watch as they come off the bus, a couple of them stumble off, one boy actually tries to hug the ground, most of them just get off a tad jelly legged and stretch some to get blood back into their limbs. 

He waits until they seem to be done with their stretches before telling them to grab their bags and such so the bus driver can leave. He takes the moment that they need to grab their things to check how the ride was with the bus driver, and other than multiple restroom stops the students were well behaved, excited even for their new school.

"Alright, let's see then," Shouta checks the clipboard even though he knows how many students there, and all their names. "Ashido, Mina?" 

"Here!" The girl practically bounces with glee, she pumps her hand into the air like she won something when her name is called. Mina's on the shorter side, her short, slightly overgrow and wildly curly has been dyed cotton candy pink. At first glance her eyes look a little odd, then Shouta realizes she's wearing contacts of some sort that make the sclera of her eyes look black. Not a single article of her clothing makes her look like she's going anywhere in particular, a loose band t-shirt over a bikini top and jean shorts, and rain boots to complete the odd look. Shouta is surprised the girl doesn't seem colder in the early spring weather.  

"Alright, Bakugou, Katsuki?" He calls.

"Here." A blond boy grumbles. The boy is glaring at everything around him like it insulted his mother, but there's nothing really going on that can draw his irritation. Katsuki's clothes are all black and at least a size too big, his Papa Skulls shirt looks almost new, but the scuffs on his shoes make them look a lot older.

"Iida, Tenya?" Shouta almost doesn't get to complete the name when the tallest of the students, raises his hand sharply.

"Present, sir!" The boy shouts. His eyes are partially hidden by the thick rectangular glasses he's wearing. Shouta half wonders if this kid's mother dressed him as he takes in the neatly pressed button up along with the dress pants. His shoes at least seem more reasonable, a pair of hiking boots that still appear freshly scrubbed and probably brand new.

"Kaminari, Denki?:" It's only through sheer professionalism that Shouta doesn't huff a laugh at the boy's given name.

The boy grins and raises his hand, "Yo!" This boy has jaw-length, gold-blond hair, and a collar? His leather jacket reminds Shouta of a crop top jacket that Nemuri had a couple of years ago. He also has a band shirt on, though Shouta doesn't recognize it. The boy seems to still be stuck on the trend of having the heaviest chain possible holding your wallet to your pants, to the point it looks like the belt is barely holding the pants up. He had been the one kissing the ground earlier.

Shouta doesn't sigh at this and moves on to the next person, "Kirishima, Eijiro?" 

The boy just shouts, "Here," and grins. His firetruck red hair is all spiked up, making him look a bit like he has horns. His smile looks nice but sharp in an odd way like maybe he filed his canines or something. He's got a hoodie over a black shirt and shorts, his bright blue sneakers seem at the other end of the spectrum from his hair.

"Midoriya, Izuku?" 

The last boy raises his hand nervously, "Here, sir." His voice is shaking some, and when Shouta looks at his face, Izuku looks like someone is holding a knife on him. The boy has dark hair that's been tinted green, or more likely just wasn't bleached first. The kid is wearing a graphic T with something written on it, and cargo jeans that appear to be full of small notebooks. The boy's red sneakers almost match Eijiro's hair. 

"Relax kid," He says for lack of anything else to say. The boy still looks intensely nervous but he hadn't really expected that to help. "Uraraka, Ochako?"

"Here! Uh, please just call me Uraraka." She answers. The girl is a little plain-faced compared to the group around her. She looks a bit like the girl-next-door type but the sheer determination on her face makes her stand out. Her shoulder-length, brown hair rounds her face a hair, and the slightly too tight t-shirt shows the width of her body a hint more than most would prefer, but the shorts and shoes seem to fit well. 

He nods to her before moving on to the last name, "Yaoyoroza, Momo?" 

"Present!" The girl is the tallest of the girls and the second tallest of the group. She's pretty, like a model, but doesn't seem to have the confidence of one. Her white and blue, flowery, and loose blouse and short skirt look fitted. The boots she's wearing go past her knees, but look like they've never so much has seen a speck of dirt, let alone been on a farm. He adds Momo to his list of people that will need an extra eye on them over the term.

He glances over the motley crew, most of them look like they've never done a day of physical labor in their life. The odds of them sticking around for more than the spring quarter is looking highly unlikely. 

“All right then. Hello students! Welcome to the U. A. Agricultural Program, aka, the farm. That is the first, last, and only time that I will be referring to it by the full name.” He gives a small grin at his own not quite joke before carrying on. 

“My name is Shouta Aizawa, you may refer to me as Mr. Aizawa or just Aizawa. Now. It is Saturday, so I’ll be giving all of you the weekend to get comfortable. Monday morning you’ll be expected to be up at dawn to do your chores, and then you’ll have classes for most of the morning. I’ll explain more about your classes then, but one important thing I want to ask now: do any of you know sign language?”

Bakugou is quick to respond in sign, "Yeah, what about it old man?" 

Izuku only takes a little longer to respond, but spoken, unlike fisty blond beside him, "I'm fairly fluent." 

Kirishima and Denki both make little so-so motions while the rest of the group shake their heads.

“Since most of you will require at least a year or two of world languages, I’m going to be teaching Sign as an optional class for a couple of hours most afternoons. It won’t be mandatory, but if you can hold a decent conversation with me in Sign for at least five minutes, I’ll sign off on a quarter of Sign.” 

“What if you already know Sign?” Katsuki asks, seemingly part genuinely curious and part to be a little shit.

“Then you are welcome to come to lessons if you want to help your peers learn. Or to tutor your peers after classes. Or to not help at all and just test out of it at the end of the year. I really don’t care about trying to force any of you to be more helpful than you’ll be required to be. But part of farming is that you’re part of a community of people. Your peers are going to be better and worse than you at some things, and the sooner that you learn to work as a team for the betterment of the individual projects I’ll be assigning you the better.” Shouta answers, he really doesn't care too much what exactly the students do as long as they get all the chores and coursework complete. 

He tells them all to grab their bags and then leads them to the bunkhouse.

“Now, over there is the farmhouse. That’s where I’ll be living, and where the classes will be taking place. If someone is staying on the farm for whatever reason and they aren’t a student they will be staying there. Most often this will be teachers.” Shouta informs them as he walks.

“Does this mean we could invite our parents for a weekend?” Kirishima asks hope and excitement vividly coloring his words.

“They’ll need to contact the school, but I don’t see any immediate reason why not.” Shouta says, shrugging, “Now, there are a few steadfast rules with very harsh consequences.” 

The students all immediately groan, Shouta blatantly ignores them and carries on.

"First. Under no circumstances are you to mess with the scarecrow." Stopping at the bottom of the stairs to the bunkhouse he turns to look at all of them, making sure to make eye contact with all of them. 

"Sir? Why is that rule one?" Izuku asks, hesitantly curious. 

"If you follow rule one you'll never have to find out the answer to that question." Shouta looks intently at Izuku, who appears to be trying to turtle into his shirt at the attention. “Two. Your curfew is dusk. This is for your own safety, there are a lot of dangerous wild animals around here, a coyote attacked and killed two of the chickens the other day. If I find you out of the bunkhouse at any time during the night you will be expelled effective immediately.”

“Uh, Mr. Aizawa sir, doesn’t that seem a little extreme of a reaction?” Mina asks, her confusion written across her face.

“Under any other circumstances, I might be inclined to agree with you." Shouta sighs, "As it is, we’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere. If you get hurt, it’s 30 minutes to the closest emergency room. The shortest amount of time for someone to bleed out is five, very, very short minutes." At this, he does his best to put on a firm mask of indifference but can feel the worry trying to etch itself into the flesh of his face, "If you go out at night, and slice open a bigger vein or artery, there’s a very good chance that you could be dead before I even find you. If you get attacked by something. You could be terribly and permanently damaged. Because at the minimum it’ll be 30 minutes to get you to a hospital, and that's if I step on the gas and a couple of your classmates sit on either side of you in the truck, holding you together. It’s an hour for an ambulance to get here and to a hospital.” Shouta has thought too long and hard about the reasons behind this rule, the scarecrow wasn't the only hazard to children on a farm, and that's exactly what they are, they're all still children.

“Oh, I didn’t-” Mina says, trying to take back her words, but Shouta won't let her.

He raises his hand to cut her off, “It’s possible something like that could happen, and it could happen to any of you, or even to me." He lowers his hand and takes in the rest of the students who now look terribly shocked. "This rule is deliberately harsh because the alternative could very easily be death. People who have worked on farms their whole lives can get killed by something they’ve spent their whole lives around because they forget to be cautious once.” 

“But Aizawa, sir, do you really think there’s a chance we could be killed here?” Kirishima asks after a moment of silence, his face is pale beneath his tanned skin, and Shouta thinks about telling the kid that he should sit down for a couple of minutes.

“Yes. But since I would rather you all survive to adulthood intact and healthy, I need all of you to follow the rules. They exist for a reason, and that reason is to keep all of you safe while you’re here. More rules may come up over time as the need arises.” He finishes.

“Is it just those two rules?” Izuku asks, Shouta looks at him to find that he has a notebook out. He didn't even see the kid move to grab one, and where did the pen come from?

He pushes away his own confusion to answer Izuku's question. “No. Rule three, you can only bow out of your assigned chores if you are too ill to leave your room or a bathroom. Your chores will relate specifically to the health and care of the animals on the farm, and to yourselves and others. The punishment for breaking this one will be modified to fit the crime." One more look around the students and they seem to be recovering well enough.

“Four, you’ve got to be up by dawn. If not an ice-water shower to the bed will be used to get any later sleepers out of bed.” At this the group snickers and Shouta lets himself grin at the quickly lightening atmosphere. 

“Five, if you start to lag in any of your classes I’m going to sit down with you to help you work through whatever problems you’re having. I know I’m coming across as a hardass, but you’re all supposed to be here because you want to be here, and I’m hoping that you won’t get too bogged down with regular schoolwork to enjoy the farm life." Shouta gets a few nods at this, the kids seem to be understanding where he's coming from, which is all he really wanted. "Any questions?”

“Is there food and which rooms are who’s?” Kirishima asks, grabbing at his stomach like he's starving.

“I’ll show you your rooms, then there’s sandwiches and chips in the kitchen." Shouta says, he turns to go back up the stairs, "After that, you’re welcome to explore the house and bunkhouse, but please wait until I show you around the barn so you don’t get hurt.” Shouta explains leading them inside.

He shows them the large kitchen and the different lounges before showing them to their individual rooms. He leaves them to get settled, snagging one of the bags of chips and a couple of sandwiches for himself as he heads back to the farmhouse. He has a couple of hours before he needs to start making dinner for everyone. 

He can probably spend that time going over the chores lists to see what he'll need to explain and when to make sure that everyone can do their jobs come Monday.

Chapter Text

Shouta managed to keep it off his mind for most of the afternoon. He worked inside the lounge room -turned office- in the farmhouse, keeping an ear out for when one of the students would come upstairs. 

They all ended up stopping by at one point or another, and Shouta was briefly thankful each time that he didn't have much so he didn't have to clean up his own room before the students got there. 

Each one of them popped open the doors to his bedroom and his office and he did his best to greet each as they wandered around the house. A few of them asked questions about the farm and about the bunkhouse and the farmhouse that Shouta did his best to answer. Some of the questions he just didn't have answers for and he told them such. 

They all asked for the wifi password, which he had been expecting. He was more surprised that none of them had asked as a group, but Shouta did feel a bit of glee at telling them not to tell each other. 

Only one of the students, Tenya, got a little huffy about not telling his fellow students, and Shouta had told him in turn that he was welcome to tell the others if he really wanted. Tenya doesn't seem to know what to do with the blatantly contradictory instructions from his teacher. 

After a few minutes of what appeared to be the boy's best impression of a malfunctioning robot, he changed the topic to the chores that will be expected of the students, and Shouta felt some fondness for the young man.

Uraraka entered his office closer to when Shouta was planning to leave to start dinner. The girl requested to just be called by her last name. Shouta made a note on the file he has for her in front of Uraraka and told her to consider it done. 

The hug from Uraraka is unexpected but pleasant, and he returned it, to the pleasure of the young woman, who basked in the hug. 

When Uraraka left to keep exploring the house, Shouta headed over to the bunkhouse kitchen, he thought it better to make the mess over there.

Dinner was supposed to be simple, a big pot of stew, with a couple of smaller portions made separately that would be sans meat and allergens. Shouta made a note to himself to check in at least once every meal prep to make sure that either there's no meat or allergens in the food at all, or that there are portions set to the side that don't have those added to it. 

The longest part would be cooking the meat, he could probably wait to start Mina's portions until he added the vegetables to the main pot. Denki wasn't allergic to beef, flour, vinegar, or salt, so he could probably just pull out Denki's portion before adding the vegetables.  

He knew that Denki would likely be at least partially laid out if he ate something with one of his allergens. Thank God the kid didn't have any allergies that were bad enough to need an epi-pen, but it would still be bad if any of the kids were basically poisoned because Shouta didn't check. 

He didn't know how long Mina had been a vegetarian, pescatarian? The file just said she didn't eat meat but she might eat fish, he'd have to ask her the next time he saw her. But If she ate anything with meat in it, there was a very good chance she could get really sick, and he'd rather avoid that if he could. 

Having allowed himself to worry about the kids' diets was enough to open the floodgates on his other worries. They were all kids still. And kids live to test the rules. The punishments he set probably wouldn't be enough to stop all of them. There was likely going to be at least one kid who tested the rules to see if they would get away with it. Shouta wasn't sure who it would be this year. As much as he hated to admit it, all the kids seemed like good kids, and he really didn't want to have to expel any of them. 

The biggest problem was the scarecrow. There were downsides to the thing moving around at night. If he needed to smoke he'd have to do it during the day, which then risked one of the kids seeing it. Which was something that he really didn't want to deal with. God forbid if one of the kids was a smoker. 

Shouta paused and took a deep breath. Dinner first, then he could worry.

He checked the recipe to see what needed to be done, before removing all the meat and adding the broth.

Where was he going with this? 

Right, he needed to get rid of the scarecrow. It was too dangerous to allow it to keep existing on the farm while the kids were here. At some point, one of the kids would go outside, and then they would be killed by the scarecrow. He had seen what it had done to the coyote, he couldn't let it do that to one of these kids. 

The rule to keep the kids inside was for their own safety. Hopefully, they would follow it.

“As long as the kids stay inside they should be safe.” He said to himself. Trying to assure himself. He just wanted the kids to be safe. And here? They weren't safe here. As long as they followed the rules they'd be more or less safe. 

“But then again they are all teenagers, and rebellion is basically all they live for.” Shouta didn't put his head down on the counter with a defeated sigh, but it was a very near thing. 

He added the meat and some herbs to the pot and watched it for a while. 

The watched the pot bubbled and more thoughts swirl around his head. What if they? What could he? How would they? What would the scarecrow do? The small bubbles got bigger and Shouta turned away, not willing to sympathize with a cooking pot of stew.

“I mean, expulsion should be enough, plus where the hell are they going to go? The barn?” He leaned against the counter and then a little farther so he could rest his head and shoulders against the cupboards above them. His tired eyes drifted close but he didn't let them stay that way for long. Not with the speed round ready shock of images of his new students all terribly maimed. Instead, Shouta focused on the fridge across from him as he tried to shake the terrible images from his head. 

“The Scarecrow’s never come in the house, but has it been into the bunkhouse? Are the kids safe in here?” He questioned himself, not knowing the answer and wishing for any kind of concrete answer. He would just have to wait and see. That was the only thing to do then, other than sending them all home, which would be a major hassle on many people's parts. 

“They’ll be safe here, I’ve never seen the scarecrow get close to the house before. Or the bunkhouse as far as I’ve seen.” Shouta ignored the niggling little voice at the back of his head, the one that was quietly reminding him that he slept through the night these days. That just cause he hadn't seen the scarecrow move right around dusk and right around dawn doesn't mean that it wasn't doing so many things more things that he didn't notice while he was asleep. 

“They can lock the front door, that can be one of the things that are expected of them.” Shouta noded to himself, that would help with at least some of Shouta's borderline paranoia. Maybe they could lock the windows too? Yeah, both of those would be part of the 'Nightly shut-down' that he'd tell the students about at dinner.

“God I hope none of these kids die.” Shouta sighed to himself, flipping the stove to low so the stew could simmer for a while. 

“Are you talking to yourself?” Izuku asked from the doorway. He didn't seem to have heard what Shouta was talking about, which was a small miracle. 

“Just sorting out my thoughts. Did you need something?” Shouta answered, trying not to look like he felt the weight of eight young lives on his shoulders. 

“I was wondering if you needed any help with dinner. I cook a lot at home and figured feeding like nine people is a more than one-man job.” Izuku offered Shouta a shaky but very genuine smile.

“Thank you, I would like some help. Will you start on the vegetables?” Shouta gestured to the sizable pile of vegetables that was sitting on one of the counters. 

“Of course!” Izuku said, moving to grab one of the cutting boards and getting straight to work. 

Shouta grabbed another cutting board and the pile of vegetables that Denki couldn't eat, there was less chance of cross-contamination that way. 

As he chopped the worries continued to circle his head, leaving him feeling drawn and looking pale.

Izuku was very helpful, he didn't ask what it was that Shouta was thinking about, he didn't ask anything at all, just hummed quietly as he chopped the vegetables in front of him. 

Shouta didn't notice the small, slightly worried glances that Izuku sent his way. Just listened to the boy's soft humming and worked on the task at hand.

Chapter Text

Shouta sends Izuku to set the table for the group, then finishes spicing the stews and making sure they're all edible. 

They taste good enough to Shouta, who hasn't really tried to go vegetarian in his life. And even without the vegetables he'd tossed into the common stew, the allergen-free stew was pretty good. 

Izuku pops his head in to tell Shouta the table was set, he takes the allergen-free stew with him to the table, and Shouta brings out the main pot. 

The triangle was a joke gift from Hizashi, but it's pretty useful when ringing it causes every teenager to pop up out of nowhere and come to dinner. 

The teens come in by ones and twos, already making friends, which is good. They sit down at the table, Izuku is quick to point out why the two smaller stews are different from the others. He waits until everyone's getting ready to dig into their dishes before trying to get their attention. 

“Alright! Can everyone hear me?” Shouta asks a lifetime of not-quite yelling over Hizashi had granted him great skill in being heard over almost any volume. 

He gets a few scattered yeses from the teens along with the rest nodding their heads. 

“I hope you all enjoy this meal, it’s going to be the only one I’ll make for you while you’re here.” Shouta grins at the immediate negative reactions from the teens. “Part of your education, while you’re here, will be learning to cook not just for yourself but for groups. So starting Monday you’ll all be put on a rotating roster of chores that will include things like making breakfast or dinner. There will also be things like feeding the chickens or goats, getting the eggs, doing structure maintenance, as well as tending to crops and animals in other ways.” Shouta finishes, getting some more grumbles from the rest.

“What do you mean structure maintenance? Did we sign slips to do that?” Mina asks slurping some at her stew. 

“You did sign slips to do it, and structural maintenance will be anything from fixing the fences to replacing siding on the buildings. These are all things that need to be done to maintain a farm so that major repairs aren't needed later." Shouta answers.

"But, how much are we going to have to do?" Kirishima asks, still looking a little confused at the premise.

"Nothing too big, there won't be any single-handed barn-raising going on. But things like replacing parts of the fence shouldn't be too hard once I show you want you're doing, and replacing panels and tiles won't be very hard either as long as you're smart about it. Overall, they're very small and easy, but time-consuming things that need to be done for the sake of the farm." Shouta takes a moment to eat some of his stew before carrying on about what he expects from the students. 

"Now then, on top of your chores will be your general education. Since you've chosen to come out to the middle of nowhere to learn how to be farmers, you, unfortunately, won't get to choose any other classes that you may want to, but you won't be in classes for nearly as much time per day. You'll still have to take the basics, math, English, and science. But nearly all of those will be online. Essentially, you'll sit in the same classrooms when I teach you, but instead, I will project one of the teachers from the other school who will teach you one of the other subjects." Shouta pauses before asking once again, "Any questions?" 

"Are there side projects that we could do for like extra credit? Like you said there are animals on the farm, but like if we presented an awesome enough paper could we get new animals?" Mina asks, figuring a paper will be needed. 

"Well, I don't know about new animals. But part of being here will be doing things outside of what I ask you to do, so you'll learn that initiative is a good thing on a farm and so you'll see how much-" here he pauses, and puts a little more emphasis on the next word"-work, a farm requires. That's not to say you'll have to do it all once, or even that I'm expecting you to have a billion projects all at once. Just know that if you can show me, that you have a well thought out idea that could be done on the farm, or in the town nearby to help the farm I will fully support you in doing it." Shouta finishes.

“What if the idea is alpacas?” Mina asks, all but bouncing in her chair in excitement.

“Then write me a paper explaining the cost of getting, feeding, and caring for an alpaca, how it’ll bring money into the farm, and at very least a summary of the food, space, and care an alpaca will need.” Shouta answers. 

“Oh, that’s a lot of work.” Mina's bouncing has stopped and now she looks at her stew thoughtfully.

“So is taking care of any living creature. I bet writing that paper will be less work than actually spending the time to take care of the animal over time.” 

Shouta sighs, feeling like the downer his friends always accuse him of being. 

“I’m not saying no to any ideas right now. The papers are so we can sit down together and go over the facts to see if it’s a good idea. I don’t know anything about caring for an alpaca, or about caring for cows, or horses, or rabbits. And when you google what animals are usually found on farms, those are some of the top responses. I didn’t know anything about chickens or goats before I started either, or rotating crops or anything else you really need to know to have a farm. I’ve spent the last few months doing nothing but fixing this place up to be habitable and learning everything I could about farming. All of the animals that are here I spent at least a month researching and then carefully introducing to the farm. I didn’t just look up animals and crops and throw everything around, I carefully planned and made sure the animals would be comfortable and healthy, and the crops that we’ll be planting will work in the ground here and be capable of producing." Shouta stops and shakes his head. 

The small group eats in silence, all seemingly buried deep in their thoughts.

"How many of you plan to be here for the year?” Shouta asks after a moment. 

Half the kids make noises or nod their heads to indicate that they want to stay.

“Are the rest of you planning to be here even that long?” Shouta asks, pointedly looking at the four that hadn't said anything before.

There's nothing but quiet mumbles of no from those kids. 

“That right there is why I’m being careful and thinking through everything that is going to be on this farm. In five years, hell, less than a year, six months maybe, almost all of you will have moved on. Gone back to regular school, left the farm, any animals or plants or structures that you want or wanted to be put up will be left here. But that won’t really matter to you in more than an ‘I wonder if that’s still around’ way. Meanwhile, I’ll still be here, looking after the animals 365 days a year. Right now I’ve got 20 chickens and 10 ducks that aren’t producing eggs. Four goats that won’t be able to be bred for almost three years and two older ones that may be able to be bred sometime next month. The only animals that are currently working off their costs are the cats I got for 50 dollars each and they still leave the dead mice and rats and other things all over the place.

“I don’t want to say no. I want to hear all your ideas for animals and plants and structures. But I can’t agree to every single thing, because some ideas simply won’t work with this farm, or might be dangerous in the long run, or might never make up for their costs. These aren’t things that you would normally have to think about, but when you work on, run, and own a farm, you can’t just think in the right now, you have to think of what the five, ten, even twenty-year future might look like.” 

“Do we have to include that in the paper too?” Mina asks, face a little pale, evidently, this was going to be harder than she had thought.

“Yes and no, give me a life estimate and how long they can produce whatever for and I’ll call it good on that part at least.” Shouta answers. 

“You mentioned making meals, how often do we have to do that?” Kirishima asks.

“You’ll make one meal for the group every four or so days. You can ask anyone for help, but not groups. This is where you’ll be learning to cook, you can make as much or as little food as you’re willing, just remember to have a shopping list ready on Monday.” Shouta answers.

“Wait, every four days? Shouldn’t it be less often?” Denki asks, having definitely not just done the math on his fingers. 

“No, you’ll be alternating breakfast and dinner. Are there any other questions with obvious answers?” Shouta asks a bit sardonically but knowing that the kids also have no reference on him or any of the answers that they want from him.

“When’s curfew?” Mina asks. 

“You have to be in your bunkhouse by sundown. Lights out is whenever you want as long as you’re up and ready to work by dawn the next morning.” Shouta answers her. 

“Wait sunset? But that’s so early!” Denki complains.

“It’s early, yes, but summer is coming and the sun is setting later and later each day. But also consider this. There are a lot of things that live in the woods and a lot of things that hunt at night. There are a lot of ways you can get hurt on a farm even during the day. The sundown curfew is specifically to keep you safe, and it doesn’t mean you have to be in your rooms by then, it just means that you have to be indoors. And even then your bedtime is when you want! I don’t care if you stay up till sunrise, as long as you get your chores and your schoolwork is done you can sleep whenever you want. I’ll do nightly checks at sundown to make sure everyone is in the bunkhouse, but other than that you pretty much have free reign. And as long as you don’t make me regret it I won’t change the rules.”

Chapter Text

Dinner went well enough Aizawa thought to himself later. After all the discussion pertaining to what was expected of them, they had moved on to other topics. Playing small word games with each other and even a modified version of 'Never Have I Ever' that Shouta had joined in on. 

He did a slightly summarized sundown check when the kids were done with their games. Just checking that each of the teens was inside and that they all knew to lock their windows. They wouldn't be expected to be up by dawn the next day, but they should still plan for it.

Shouta ass already feeling tired from the day when he settled onto the porch of the farmhouse. He couldn't see all the kids' windows from here, but he could see a fair few of them. At this distance, all he could tell from the windows was whether the lights were on or not. 

He couldn't see the scarecrow's stand from here, and he was half grateful, half worried about that. 

The kids better stay in bed tonight. Shouta thought to himself as he settled more comfortably into his chair. The chair itself wasn't terribly comfortable, but at least for that night he needed to make a point of showing that he was keeping an eye on the kids and on the bunkhouse in case they tried to wander around the farm just to see if they could. 

The scarecrow seemed to at least be staying away. The thought isn't a calming one, he's seen it move and knows that it's more than capable of wandering around. But maybe it really has all been in his head. He's spent most of his life surrounded by people even if he never saw or spoke to most of them. 

Here he was utterly alone until the teens came along. 

Aizawa does his best to shake the thought from his head. He has to stand up and move around to the side of the porch to see it. He has to at least show himself that it really is there, or moving? 

It's moved its post recently so it's not as easy to see from the farmhouse. When did it do that? Last night? he had shot at it in an attempt to intimidate it, but he really hadn't expected that to work, like, at all. 

I don’t think it’s even moved so far. He thinks as he lays eyes on the scarecrow. Its head is almost laying on its shoulder, head twisted so the hat that seems to come and go is mostly covering its head. 

There's no sign of the blue glow yet. 

Then again it’s still early, maybe it needs time to start getting up and around. Aizawa watches the scarecrow for a moment. It seems like every other scarecrow right now. Nothing off about it other than the brief trip into the uncanny valley. 

God, that’s a freaky thought. Though is it better or worse that it might be a figment of my imagination and sleepwalking? He shakes his head again, he feels exhausted already. And that is obviously what's at fault for the strange thoughts making their way across his mind now. 

Looks like they’re at least trying to get some sleep, that’s good. I should get some sleep myself. He returns to the chair on the front porch. From there he can see that most of the lights in the bunkhouse have already gone out. It looks like the main living room still has an occupant, the kid moving back and forth around. 

I wonder why that kid isn’t sleeping? Ah well, I’m sure I can check later. He thinks to himself, watching the kid pace a while longer. He did say that he didn't care when the kids actually went to bed, but it seemed like the rest of them took the threat of a cold-water wake-up seriously. 

Thinking of his threat makes him more aware of the cold of the air around him. The day may have warmed up to bearable temperatures during the day, but at night all the heat was leached from the air by the emptiness of the cosmos. 

He stands up again, to do a little pacing of his own when he decides to check on the scarecrow again. It still hasn't moved since that time that he checked on it. I don’t think the scarecrow has moved at all, maybe it's taking my threat seriously. Ha. even the laugh inside his head sounds sarcastic when he thinks about the scarecrow even possibly being afraid of him. 

Exhaustion tugs at him, the cold air sapping his remaining energy, a small voice tells him to get back in the chair and just take a good long nap. Which does sound nice, but he'd probably get hypothermia and die on a night like this.

He paces a little longer looking at the bunkhouse where one of the kids is doing the same. 

I think this is the latest I've stayed up since I started actually living on the farm. I used to go way later than this. He muffles a yawn with his hand, he used to be way more hardcore than this. Shouta does some stretches in an attempt to get the blood moving again. 

He wasn't hardcore, he had depression. The regular routine was really helping.

But maybe that’s for the better, I’m sleeping more regularly, I’m eating more regularly, I have more energy. I can never let Nezu know, he’ll never let me live it done. He knows Luna would be shaking her head at him given the chance, though she would probably agree that all this had been good for him, he really was doing better than he had in years. 

He checks the bunkhouse again, now the kid seems to be passing in his own room, a small improvement. 

That one kid’s light is still on, either they’re afraid of the dark or they’re taking my, ‘sleep whenever’ speech to heart. Hopefully, it’s the former, they won’t last if they always sleep the day away. He thinks, he watches the shadow move in the light before going to check on the scarecrow again.

Is the scarecrow looking this way now? No, I’m probably just imagining that. He shakes his head before looking back at the scarecrow for a moment, it looks the same as every other time that he's looked at it tonight. He looks at the scarecrow. No signs of movement. No signs of life at all, really. 

I need to go to bed, I’m probably seeing things. I really am too used to going to bed early. Shouta thinks. He moves back to the porch, sparing one more look at the scarecrow. It hasn't moved.

He takes the steps up onto the porch, one more look at the bunkhouse shows every light but one has been turned off. It's good enough for now. It has to be. 

The quiet stillness of the house seems worse than it has almost since he moved in. The halls ring in the quiet that he hadn't realized he had gotten used to. The creaks of the stairs seem so very loud in comparison, he doesn't try to move more quietly, but it still feels like he's moving softer. 

The light of the moon is enough for him to change by, a rarity, but still more convenient than being temporarily blinded a couple of times while trying to sleep.

He crawls into bed, immediately sinking into to cush of the blankets and the pillow. 

He blinks a few times. Slow, heavy blinks that take more and more effort to open his eyes after. 

With each blink, the light in the room seems to get brighter, nearly enough to see the wood grain of the floor when his eyes close for the last time. 

The thought that last crosses his mind is that he was fairly certain it looked like it was going to rain when he went inside.

Chapter Text

Agriculture wasn’t really something that Izuku could see himself doing when he grew up. It was a worthwhile career path for those who were really interested in it, and there would always be a need for farmers in the world. But it was really not something that he thought of himself doing. He thought maybe a cop, or FBI, or Secret Service even! 

But a farmer? Not really. Never, probably. 

Which was part of why he was confused when his mom suggested it for him. Well, not suggested being a farmer, but doing the agriculture program the school was offering for a few months. She knew he wanted to save people, and you didn’t do that by being a farmer. He wanted to be a doctor, or a cop, or someone who was out and among the people. 

She thought it might help his insomnia. That the hard work all day would help physically exhaust him to where he just had to sleep. It would probably be another failed attempt. Nothing else had worked. He had tried everything. Every folk cure and remedy under the sun. Even exercising every day hadn’t actually helped. 

He had always had a hard time sleeping through the night. It wasn’t the nightmares, those were bearable, it was just that sleep didn’t always come for him. He spent too many nights simply laying in bed, not sleeping, not resting. Just laying there with his eyes closed and hoping for sleep that seemed to never come. 

That hadn’t let up since he got here, even with the hard work and the long days. It had been another failed attempt, but this place was still better than a normal school would be.  

Mr. Aizawa was pretty cool, he didn’t make any fuss over Izuku napping in the afternoons, he also didn’t care if Izuku stayed up all night. He had to see it when he stayed up for a couple of hours on the front porch of the farmhouse, but he said nothing when he saw Izuku was up. 

Izuku had carefully stayed inside the house, stayed in the living room, the lounge, his room. He’d stayed in the areas given, just pacing and pacing. He didn’t mean to; it was just easier to think when he was moving. And, well, his mom might have had a point in suggesting he spend some time on a farm. 

So he paced most nights. He wasn’t doing enough hard work to physically exhaust him. So he did his homework and then watched TV in the common room until all the others went to bed. Then he paced. 

Tonight he was still tired, but he was just feeling suffocated in the living room. One well-meaning askance from Ultima was enough to stop him from pacing in there for the time being. 

He was exhausted and his limbs felt heavy, but there was no sleep waiting for him in his bed. His usual living room circuit felt like it wasn’t enough, he did a few laps, just enough to feel warmed up but not enough to do anything for him. 

Fresh air, that’s what he needed, really. Despite the amount he had gotten during the day and doing his chores, he just needed a breather.  

The promise of expulsion was hanging over his head, but just standing on the front porch shouldn’t be too bad. He wouldn’t leave the porch, maybe just breath there for a while. Do a couple of laps, then head to bed again. Maybe then he could settle down enough to sleep. 

That would probably be enough. Hopefully.

He checks the lock, even though he had been the one locking it only a couple of hours earlier. The front door was locked, like the back door, all the windows, everything is locked. 

He still wanted to check. It was still locked, and the sound of the lock disengaging felt like it echoed through the house. 

Freezing Izuku looked back towards the stairs like someone might come storming down them. He listened, his heart stuttering in his chest and his breaths uneven. Minutes or moments later when no one had come down to bust him for trying to leave the bunkhouse, he pulled the door open. 

Another few moments or minutes later and he leaves the house, pulling the door closed behind him. 

He can’t hear anything out in the fields right now, it’s probably safe.

He stretches then pulling the length of his body up as tall as he can, the brief reprieve from the ache of his muscles is almost worth it. Who knew replacing fencing would be so tiring?

Tiring, but not exhausting. I still can’t sleep . He thinks to himself. The ache in his body screams of a day of hard work, but it’s not enough to give him a reprieve from the night. 

The cool air is just enough to draw goosebumps to his skin, the fresh air is just crisp enough to tingle his nostrils a little. He grins softly into the night. He’d always liked the chill of spring air. Soon it would be summer and there’s be almost no reprieve from the heat of it, but for now, the dark of the night was pleasant enough. 

Maybe a walk will help? Izuku thinks after a few minutes, just enjoying the night. Just down the stairs. He tells himself like he’s not already breaking one of the most major rules. No, the most major rule. 

Creeping down the steps, Izuku freezes when he steps on one that goes off like a gunshot. Holy cow, that’s a creaky step. Did anyone hear that? He thinks it was only his sheer force of will that had kept him on the step. 

I’ve got to avoid that in the future. He tells himself absentmindedly as he goes back down the steps. 

What future ? Izuku doesn’t freeze as he thinks this, but it’s a near thing. I’m definitely not going to be sneaking around here after tonight. I’m just can’t sleep cause it’s so new still. This time next week I’ll be sleeping like a baby. I wonder who came up with that phrase. Had they ever actually met a baby ? Izuku had only babysat like twice, but he knew that babies really did not sleep well, and so many of them seemed to wake up at the littlest noise. 

He shakes his head. 

He does a lap of the building, then another, then another after that. He stops facing some trees that are way to the North of the farm.

I wonder what’s out there ? He asks himself. Mr. Aizawa seemed so sure that there was something out there just waiting to get us. There’s no movement that Izuku can see, just the outlines of the trees in the darkness. He can’t see the scarecrow from here, but he’s pretty sure it’s on the other side of the Farmhouse from where he is now. 

It looks so peaceful out there. He thinks, admiring the darkness, it’s probably too cold for anything to actually be looking for food out here. Nothing’s been planted here yet. The only things here that are living are the animals and the people, and he’s fairly certain that most of the animals around here wouldn’t blatantly attack a human so close to a human dwelling. 

He finishes the lap to return inside when he sees a light from near the farm. 

What is that? He thinks to himself. Izuku sees the light flash out in the dark again. He knows on some level that he shouldn’t try to confront whoever’s out there. In theory, he knows he should go try to wake up Aizawa. But the audacity of whoever this is rummaging around in the barn is enough to get his blood up and to make him angry, if not at the person than for Mr. Aizawa, who’s just trying to get this project of his off the ground. 

Izuku runs over to the barn, stopping before he gets too close, and creeping the rest of the way. Carefully, he looks around for a hint of the blue light that he had seen earlier. He keeps close to the barn and looks within. 

There’s a hint of movement, then the light move back towards the entrance, towards him! Izuku presses himself against the side of the barn and stops breathing, straining for any sign of how close they were. 

Just as he’s about to tilt himself around the corner to see where the person went, the person -no, the being, too tall to be a human- strides through with no noise, without a hint of the sound that would practically be required for someone passing through. They don’t turn, but Izuku knows this person -this not person- even if he’s never actually met them.

The scarecrow is moving, it’s alive! He has time to think as the creature, so tall and silent and fast, moves past him moving towards the houses.  

It turns suddenly before it gets too close to the houses, though. What is it doing? He asks himself as he moves to follow the thing he could have sworn was nothing more than a puppet or a sack of clothing an hour previous. He’s nowhere near as silent, but he does his best and is pretty stealthy while following the giant scarecrow.

It’s going for the chickens! Izuku realizes as he follows it. Then he tells himself: I have to stop it! He follows the scarecrow, determined to stop it somehow. 

He sneaks up behind it, wondering how he’s going to stop it when it carefully opens the door to the coop, closing the door behind it. Izuku is preparing to raise hell to keep the scarecrow from harming the chickens when he notices what it’s actually doing.

It’s, petting them? What kind of scarecrow is this? He watches the scarecrow as it slowly and carefully pets each chicken individually. Sometimes picking one up the better pet it.

Honestly, that’s a pretty terrible noise. Is it humming at the chickens? The chickens are remarkably calm for the small bloodthirsty descendants of dinosaurs that they were. Why are the chickens so okay with this? I thought they hated everyone. Izuku watches the scarecrow not get attacked by the birds that seemed to desire the blood and flesh of all living creatures. Except Dean, for some reason.  

The scarecrow is petting the chickens, and they’re surprisingly cool with it. Izuku moves around the coop to better see inside. 

What if it sees me? He thinks as he leans around the side of the coop. Will it try to kill me? How is it even moving, anyway?

The scarecrow continues making its grating, scratching, growling hum and each time the noise grew louder or stuttered Izuku’s heart stopped. 

It’s impossible to track except by that terrible humming screeching noise and incidental noise it’s not making any noise when it moves. The scarecrow exits the coop, it’s long looping strides taking it out and away from Izuku. He freezes again, watching it. Where’s it going now?

The goats? It’s petting them too? The scarecrow seems perfectly at ease with the animals, and the animals barely twitch at the scarecrow’s passing. It’s checking on the goats, and the cats all like it? What’s going on here?

Izuku does his best to follow the scarecrow silently. The noise coming from the creature seems more than loud enough to Izuku’s ears to cover any happenstance noises that Izuku may make. He follows the scarecrow into the shelter for the goats and sheep; they don’t seem to notice his presence when it’s masked by the scarecrow.

He dares to get closer, to watch the scarecrow as it slowly and carefully checks over the goats, checks the sheep hooves. He hadn’t noticed it doing that earlier. 

He steps closer, kicking the feed bucket, and freezing. 

Oh no, please don’t look over here, pleasepleaseplease! Izuku watched with bated breath as the scarecrow jolted and looked around, its gaze passing over him twice before life returns to Izuku’s limbs and he could run for it.

Oh, no! oh no oh no oh no- Izuku’s mind screamed as he ran. Okay, time to go back to the bunks!

Did it see me? He couldn’t turn around to check, he had to run, and he had to get somewhere he knew, or at least was fairly certain, was safe. 

I think it’s still in the farm. He chanced a glance behind him. There wasn’t anything following him. He still wasn’t safe, he had to get inside.

He darts up the front stairs to the door, a screeched howl like metal scraping through metal follows him. 

Locking the door! Locking the door! Locking the door! Is the only clear thought in Izuku’s head and he locks the knob, deadbolt, and chain. He checked the locks again after throwing them. Then ran to each of the windows and the back door to check they were locked as well. The curtains that were usually left open in the living room were thrown shut along with the ones in the kitchen.  

Did it see me? Having collapsed on the stairs, Izuku glanced around the first floor of the bunkhouse.

Izuku stands again, slowly, and silently walking to one of the living room windows. A few deep breaths gave him a moment to settle his heart and racing thoughts. He carefully pulls back one curtain, slowly, minutely, and HOLY SHIT THE SCARECROW IS RIGHT OUT THERE!

Oh shit, I think it saw me! Izuku slammed the curtain back in place and made a run for the stairs. Nope, nope nope nope!

Going to bed, this never happened! Izuku thinks to himself as he tears off his shoes and coat and hopes into the bed. Never happened, never happened, never happened, never happened, never happened-

Izuku couldn’t stop himself from looking out the window, he could see the blue glow from the creatures passing back and forth over the curtains. It was looking for him; it had to be. He dragged the blankets over his head and burrowed as deeply under them as he could.

There was no monster, it was only a dream; he was safe. 

There was no monster, it was only a dream; he was safe. 

There was no monster, it was only a dream; he was safe. 

There was no monster, it was only a dream; he was safe.

Chapter Text

Tossing and turning in his bed was something that was fairly normal for Izuku. If he made the choice to go to bed, he would end up laying there, awake, for hours. Sleep was not his friend, nor was he its friend. 

I can’t sleep. A terrible summation of his current state that fit too well. 

I’ve had nothing but terrible sleep for the last two weeks. Well, worse than usual at least. And then that dream. Or was it a dream? Izuku sat up and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. He couldn’t sleep and the dreams of the blue glow kept coming back. Although not all of them had happened at night, so he at least knew that if the dream, or what could have been a dream, was actually just a terrifying, terrifying dream, then they were all dreams. 

But. If it wasn’t a dream?

Maybe I should check again, to see if it was only a nightmare or a daydream… He pushes himself from the bed, moving to pace around the room before remembering Donovan’s request to not pace in the bedroom in the middle of the night. 

He creeps down the stairs, stopping about halfway down to peer around the living room for any hint of a blue glow. Izuku then paused at each of the windows on the bottom floor. He searched the night for any hint of the glow in the distance, but there was none that he could see.

I can’t see the scarecrow now, but I suppose it might just be too far away to see right now. It had been with the chickens and ducks, sheep and goats, both in contained areas away from the house and farmhouse. It could easily hide in either of those places.

Or more likely it was just going to be on its cross in one field and it was never alive in the first place. 

When I get out of the house, I’ll walk to the scarecrow and it’s going to be there. Still just hanging around. He steps to the door, resting his head against it while working up the will to go outside. It’ll all have been a dream and I’ll be able to sleep peacefully. 

Just unlock the door.

Just avoid the creaky step.

He turns the lock, listening for anyone moving upstairs. 

Slipping outside, Izuku takes a breath of the nippy air, it wakes him up a little. It feels real; he feels like he’s awake now. But he’d felt awake then too, he could have been awake then too.

Izuku spared a look for the farmhouse, Aizawa should have already gone to bed, but there was no telling some nights. He slipped down the steps, avoiding the creaky stair. 

The post was past the farmhouse, he’d have to skirt it to get there. Hopefully, Aizawa was in bed and wasn’t looking out his windows at this time of night.

The post is just past the house, I’m almost there. Swallowing, Izuku pauses at the corner. He just has to look around to confirm that the scarecrow is where it should be. He just has to look around the corner.

Wait, where’s the scarecrow?

Izuku’s breath hitched, then started coming faster. It wasn’t just a dream; it was real. The other night it was near the chickens, I can probably start there. Or maybe it was just somewhere else? Maybe Aizawa took the scarecrow down before he went to bed and it was just in the barn or the trash or something. 

The barn, coop, and little shelter were all a ways from the farmhouse, but he could get there fast enough if he jogged. He scanned the coop as he passed it, freezing when he saw the glow again.

Oh, my, God. The scarecrow is alive!

What’s it doing? Izuku watched the scarecrow move around among the sleeping birds, creeping closer. It didn’t hurt the chickens before, but maybe I just didn’t see it. This has to be what Aizawa was scared of.

The poultry are all calm and content when lifted by the scarecrow, maybe it doesn’t want to hurt the animals or people. Maybe it just happens to be on the farm. Like they just happen to be on the farm. He thinks as he moves closer to the coop. 

The creature exits the coop and this time when Izuku freezes it’s not right up against the side of something large, it’s right out in the open and easy to see. 

The scarecrow’s glowing gaze moves across the horizon, skipping over Izuku entirely before the creature stops, and slowly turns its gaze back to him. 

Izuku’s heart skips, and so do his legs, and he’s on his back before he’s made the choice to run. 

“Oh no!” Izuku screams. He’s too young to die. He should have just stayed in the bunkhouse, in his room, in his bed. “Please don’t hurt me I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m sorry!”

The scarecrow makes the grating noise again, though the underlying hum like massive machinery in the distance is gone. It approaches, its steps too much for the short distance that it travels and its movements wrong for anything of its similarity to human shape. 

“Please, I’m sorry!” Izuku cries, scrambling through the dirt, keeping his eyes on the monster in front of him while scrambling back to the houses as fast as he can. He’s stuck on his back, he’s too far away from the houses, no one’s going to hear him. If this is how he dies, man, what a shitty way to go.

The scarecrow follows him a little slower, and it gets lower, a lot lower until it’s moving along the ground in a crouch. The echoing hum accompanied by the grating of metal and rending of cats makes a return.

“I’m going! Please, I swear I’m going!” Izuku can’t tear his eyes off of it anymore, he can’t look back at the houses, he just moves back as fast as he can but it’s still not fast enough. The scarecrow was catching up to him. No, it was on him.

Izuku drops to the ground in a ball, he covers his head with his arms and shakes on the ground. “Don’t hurt me, I won’t come out after dark again, I promise!” Izuku begs the scarecrow he can’t look, he can’t. 

The noises from the creature are lower now, simultaneously louder and quieter than they were before, and Izuku can’t look. He can’t look. 

The noises hum over him, the heavy grating rumble of the scarecrow makes Izuku’s heart stutter, and he can’t move. And then he’s being moved and lifted until his feet can rest on the ground. 

“You, what?” Izuku asks, stumbling under his own weight. He looks at the scarecrow that’s still trying to make itself seem smaller than it is.

The scarecrow lifts its hands and begins backing away. Izuku watches it, confused, still terrified, still shaking with adrenaline. 

“You didn’t hurt me,” Izuku says, begging for some kind of explanation while also still debating if he should run.

The scarecrow continues its movements backward, rising slowly once it gets closer to the coop again. Izuku stands where he was placed, unable (unwilling?) to move. He watches the scarecrow that’s watching him so intently. It glances away a few times, as though to confirm where it is, and then it returns to watching Izuku in turn. 

It reenters the coop, and Izuku surges forward before freezing again. The scarecrow picks up one chicken and pets it, slowly exiting the coop so Izuku can see that the chicken has no problems with being held.

“You weren’t planning on hurting me, were you?” Izuku can feel the fight go out of him as he realizes this. The scarecrow never wanted to hurt him. It had probably never hurt anyone and here he was, running like it was actually planning on it. 

The scarecrow steps over the fence and, oh, Izuku had really underestimated how tall it was. The top of the fence went to the bottom of his ribs. The scarecrow stands a few feet away from him and once finishes examining his face it carefully, and purposefully slowly shakes its head no.

“Can’t you talk?” Izuku asked, though based on the sounds that he’d heard from the creature, he doubted it even as he asked. 

The scarecrow makes garbled hellish noises that are almost understandable, but ultimately Izuku can’t parcel out what it’s trying to say.

“I’ll take that as a no, as all I’m hearing are absolutely terrifying demon sounds.” He tells the massive monster, although it was strangely kind for a monster.

It makes more of the hellish noises that could be the rending of metal or the killing of cats.

“Are you a demon?” Izuku asks, just to be safe. 

No. The scarecrow shakes its head furiously. 

“Do you have a name?” He asks, it feels kinda rude to keep calling the scarecrow an it or just ‘the scarecrow’ in his head.

The scarecrow simply shrugs, which jostles the chicken, which clucks angrily in response.

“That’s not very helpful. Do you know sign?” Izuku asks while doing the sign for ‘Sign.’

The scarecrow cocks its head to the side, then returns the chicken to the coop. It returns to its place a few feet from Izuku and crouches to be closer to his level, though still nowhere near his smaller stature.

“It’s like, well, talking with your hands, I guess. Like, this means ‘nice to meet you?'” Izuku does his best to sign the words slowly and smoothly.

The scarecrow leans forward, intrigued. Its hands flutter as though it were going to try to mimic the signs.

“Well, if you’re willing-” Izuku starts, getting the feeling that he’s about to get way deeper into this than he ever planned to. “I can teach you sign, and maybe you can tell me more about yourself?” 

The scarecrow straightens suddenly, a noise not dissimilar to a whoop coming from it, if whoops sounded like the screams of the damned. It then bounces, spinning once, twice, thrice, and then closes those last few feet to Izuku and lefts him, spinning him around in its arms.

“OHMYGOD!” Izuku screeches, clinging to the scarecrow for dear life as he’s suddenly and unexpectedly spun about.

The scarecrow dropped him as fast as it had picked him up; it slumps into itself and starts to slink away when Izuku gets his bearings.

“Wait, don’t go, you just,” Izuku scrambles for words when his head is still spinning. “You really startled me. A little warning next time, okay?” He does his best to smile at the tall creature. Even though looking at it and hearing the noises still scares the crap out of him.

The scarecrow nods quickly, agreeing possibly, and makes noises like massive machines tearing up concrete. 

“If you’re trying to apologize, this is ‘I’m sorry.’” Izuku offers, moving his hand across his chest in the sign for ‘Sorry.’

The scarecrow’s jerky movements more or less mimic, Izuku’s though the sign isn’t quite right.

“I accept your apology. But you need to make your hand into a fist for the word ‘sorry.’”

Again the scarecrow makes the sign, this time it’s perfect as far as Izuku is concerned.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” He bounces happily, and the scarecrow bounces happily too. “Okay, this is chicken.” Izuku does his best with the sign that’s fairly new to him as well.

The scarecrow overdoes the movement, making it a lot bigger than it needs to be.

“Almost, like this. It’s a fairly small sign.” Izuku does the sign again, emphasizing the slight movements of it.

This time the Scarecrow gets the slight movements of the sign. 

“Nice! You’re picking this up pretty fast.” Izuku praises the scarecrow. They carry on late into the night as Izuku teaches and corrects the scarecrows signs, teaching it as many as he can.

The sun is cresting the horizon when Izuku realizes how late it is.

“Wow, you’re a fast learner!” He praises the scarecrow. He feels the weight of his exhausted limbs trying to drag him down, but he feels accomplished for teaching the scarecrow as much as he had. The night had somehow been a thousand times better than he had expected, and he’d made a new friend, though his new friend apparently didn’t actually want to talk about himself.

“I don’t know if you’re limited by the sun or whatever, but it’s almost dawn and I know Aizawa and the others are going to be up soon-” Izuku had been planning to say more, but when he pointed out the time the scarecrow became panicked, and ran towards where the pole was on the other side of the farmhouse. 

Izuku had no chance of keeping up with the inhuman creature, and when he skidded around the corner as well, he saw that it looked as though it had always been there. In fact, if he hadn’t seen it shoot a look at the house would have said he probably dreamed the night before. 

The scarecrow sends him a small wave before going limp in its bonds, and Izuku waves back before heading back to the bunkhouse. 

Momo is already up and making breakfast. She calls out a greeting as he passes, and he mumbles one back as he heads to his room to get ready for the day.

Chapter Text

Izuku hadn’t originally intended to stay up all the previous night, he ended up crashing almost as soon as class was over, barely dragging his aching and tired body to the couch in the farmhouse’s living room before succumbing to sleep. He didn’t dream, but he would have probably slept through the night if Tenya hadn’t woken him up to at least eat dinner. 

The others had been worried and asked him if he was alright, he did his best to brush aside their concerns and tell them he was fine, he just hadn’t slept well the night before. 

Aizawa had pulled him aside after dinner to check in with him, and didn’t seem to quite believe his excuse of a bad night of sleep but accepted it nonetheless. 

He’d joined the others for a short marathon of some anime that Mina was obsessed with, then switched the TV to the news when the others went to bed. 

His mom was certain that his obsession with the news was probably what started his insomnia, he always had to know what was going on in the world and when he saw the state of everything he’d desperately wanted to fix everything. While his desire to fix all that was wrong with the world did keep him up some nights, and nightmares about the terrible state of the world did ruin the sleep he did get, it probably wasn’t the thing causing his insomnia.

He’d had insomnia for as long as he could remember, and it had never been too much of a problem. Don’t think it wasn’t a problem, it was, but he could deal with it most days. 

Tonight though it wasn’t his insomnia that kept him up, but excitement. He was going to try to talk to the scarecrow again tonight. 

He’s been more or less ignoring the news, he’s trying to focus but every time he looks at the screen his gaze inevitably slips back to the window, where he’s waiting for the lights on the farmhouse to go out. So he can sneak out. And break the only rule that had the punishment of expulsion. 

It could be minutes or hours later that his gaze once more slips from the TV to the window to find the lights out. No sign of the teacher on the porch, no sign that he’s moving around the living room of the farmhouse or the kitchen. Izuku can’t see the bedroom window from here but he can bet that that might be out too.

He switches the TV off and looks out the window for any signs of movement. 

Nothing. 

*Okay, I don’t think Aizawa is awake, it should be safe to go out.* He switches the lights off in the living room, then, in about the time it would take him to go up the stairs he switches the light at the top of the stairs off too. No one complains, no one comes to check, so Izuku moves to the door.

He clicks the lock open, freezing, waiting for any sign of someone upstairs coming to check. No one comes down, so Izuku slips out of the house. 

He creeps down the steps, missing all the loud ones, then moves as stealthily as he can towards the farmhouse.

Keeping close to the farmhouse when he gets there he peers carefully around the side to see if the scarecrow is still on his post, but to Izuku’s less than surprise, he’s not.

*Where is he?* He’s not sure when he began to think of the scarecrow as male, but it seemed to fit better than just calling him on it. He’d found the scarecrow in and around the chicken coop before, maybe that’s where it was again today. 

Izuku walks to the coops, he wasn’t trying to hurry. There was a good chance the scarecrow would be there all night anyway. He doesn’t see the scarecrow in the coop either. 

The goats would be his next stop. He does walk slightly faster at missing the scarecrow twice, if he wasn’t in with the goats, then Izuku wouldn’t know where to check next. 

From behind him comes the faint sounds of movement, maybe the chickens resettling? There’s no one back there though. His heart rate picks up a little as he walks, more noises coming from behind him. There’s nothing there when he checks. There’s no sign of the blue glow of the Scarecrow’s eyes either, it’s just darkness all around. 

He jumps as something seems to clatter right behind him. He turns and is suddenly face to chest with the scarecrow that definitely hadn’t been there earlier. 

Izuku screams as loud as he can before cutting himself off. 

If he were Katsuki he’d probably punch the scarecrow, as it is, he skitters off a few feet cussing like he never had in his life.

The rending of cat and metal makes a reappearance, and when Izuku’s got his frantically beating heart somewhat under control to see what it wants prepared to make the choice to punch him if he’s laughing. Instead, the scarecrow is signing ‘sorry’ with increasing franticness and must be verbally apologizing as well.

“You scared me!” Izuku tells the scarecrow, pointlessly.

The scarecrow continues making the screeching noise of cat and metal, and Izuku doesn't feel quite as angry as he did a minute ago. 

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have yelled, but you really startled me. Next time could you try to make some noise before you suddenly appear next to me? I’ll even accept your Hell noises from a distance if you’ll just give me a little warning.” Izuku says, still clutching at his chest, he winces when he thinks about what his mother would say if she had heard him just then.

Izuku looks up at what he could have sworn was a chainsaw revving, but in reality, appears to be the noise the scarecrow makes when he laughs.

“I forgot to ask something last night!” Izuku blurts after a minute of staring. “Can you write at all?”

Nodding its head the scarecrow signs ‘why.’

“I can only teach you words that I think are relevant, but if you write down the words, or even something similar to the words. I could teach you the signs, and that  could make it easier for you to communicate!” Izuku is practically vibrating with excitement, this would help the scarecrow communicate so much faster!

*How* The scarecrow asks.

“Well we could use a stick, and you could write what you want to say on the ground, or I could get one of my notebooks, and you could write in that?” Izuku offers, admittedly he hadn’t given this much thought but he could figure it out!

*Work* The scarecrow nods along with Izuku.

“Wait! Finger Signing!” Izuku screeches, that would work so much better than having to get something to write with!

*What* The scarecrow was really getting to use the five W questions tonight. He’d probably get to use them less with time and as he learned more.

“That’s where you just spell out what you want to say, it’d be somewhat faster, well, not in the long run, but it wouldn’t require any outside materials! Here, I’ll reteach you the alphabet, and then you can tell me what you want to learn!” Izuku bounces excitedly.

A double thumbs up from the scarecrow and they sit down to start the lessons again. When they get through all the letters again, and Izuku is happy with his signing Izuku decides to start the questions again.

“Do you wanna try telling me your name now?” Izuku asks shyly. 

*I-d-o-n-t-r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r* the scarecrow painstakingly spells out, and Izuku’s heart breaks.

“But it’s your name! Surely you have to remember something that someone called you?” Izuku pleads.

*S-c-a-r-e-c-r-o-w* He spells out.

“But that’s not your name.” Izuku says, worried about his new friend.

*T-h-e-y-c-a-l-l-e-d-m-e-t-h-a-t* Scarecrow spells out again. 

“Who?” Izuku asks, he hadn’t seen anyone else sneaking out of the bunkhouse, and he would have noticed.

*T-h-e-m* Scarecrow gestures at the farmhouse.

Izuku sits, looking at the large farmhouse in the distance. “How long do you think it’s been? Since someone called you by your name?” 

*Y-e-a-r-s* Scarecrow answers, also looking at the farmhouse.

“What do you want me to call you?” Izuku asks, looking up up up at his tall friend.

There’s a long pause as the scarecrow thinks. He eventually looks back at Izuku and signs,  *C-a-l-l-m-e-s-c-a-r-e-c-r-o-w*

“Are you sure? We could probably look up names so you don’t have to call yourself that.” Izuku is already flipping through sites and books that might have some good ones.

*I like S-c-a-r-e-c-r-o-w* Scarecrow signs.

“I think that could be signed ‘scare’ and ‘bird,’ cause you’re a scare, crow.”Izuku says, demonstrating. “And it’s kinda what scarecrows do, scare birds.” Izuku offers, at least so his friend can introduce himself quicker.

Scarecrow signs his name then gives Izuku a thumbs up, he likes it.

“Yeah! Perfect! Although hopefully, you won’t have to use it as often as the rest of us.” Izuku bounces where he’s sitting. He can’t wait to bring some of the others out later.

*U-s* Scarecrow signs, cocking his head.

“Well, you’re obviously not trying to hurt me, and you definitely haven’t tried to hurt any of the animals. So I could guess, I mean, once it’s easier for you to communicate without being completely terrifying I bet the others will all wanna talk to you.” Izuku answers the unspoken question.

*R-e-a-l-y* Scarecrow signs.

"Well yeah, I mean, you're a walking, talking -well, sort of- scarecrow! At the very least people are going to want to talk to you about what you are. Who you are, how you came to be here,” Izuku paused, ”Maybe even why you’re here…” Izuku sends Scarecrow a hopeful look, but the other won’t look at him now.

*I-D-o-n-t-w-a-n-t-t-o-t-a-l-k-a-b-o-t-t-h-a-t* Scarecrow slowly signs out.

“What? Why not?” Izuku tries to look the other in the eye, or as close to eyes as something that seems to just be glowing burlap can have.

*B-a-d* Scarecrow signs. The blue glow of his eyes disappears, and suddenly Scarecrow seems completely lifeless, just a mimicry of a man sitting next to Izuku.

“Bad? Bad how? What do you mean?” Izuku turns to see Scarecrow just sitting there, nearly lifeless. 

*H-e-r-e-b-a-d* Scarecrow signs, the glow is still gone, his hands seem more like they’re being puppeteered than actually moved by Scarecrow.

“Scarecrow? What do you mean by that?” Izuku tries to meet Scarecrow’s eyes, but there is no way to tell where the eyes are, there’s only the canvas. 

*D-o-n-t* Scarecrow turns his head so even if Izuku were looking in the right direction there’s no way to look at his face.

“Scarecrow?” Izuku tries to get Scarecrow’s attention, but the other seems scared, and it scares Izuku in turn.

*D-i-e-d-h-e-r-e* Scarecrow signs, holding his hands out in front of him so Izuku can see them but he still won't turn his head to look at Izuku. *c-a-n-t* His hands shake, *d-o-n-t*

Izuku swallows, he hadn’t realized that. That Scarecrow was a real person. “You died here?”

Scarecrow only nods.

“Can- Will you tell me what happened?” Izuku asks, 

Scarecrow pauses, then nods. He slowly lifts his hands to start finger signing when Izuku interrupts him, grabbing Scarecrow's arm to stop him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- you don’t have to tell me.” Izuku drops his hand from the other's arm. He looked to the ground and rubbed at his own arm, feeling terrible for pushing when his friend had already said he didn’t want to talk about it.

Scarecrow taps his arm before signing, *Y-o-u-w-a-n-t-k-n-o-w* his head is cocked so Izuku knows it’s a question.

“Yeah. But it shouldn’t matter that I want to know, what matters is if you want to tell me.” Izuku tells the scarecrow, whose glow has come back. 

Scarecrow looks away and nods. 

There are no words between them, and when Izuku is about to call it a night Scarecrow points at the farmhouse and signs, *T-h-a-t-m-a-n-i-n-h-o-u-s-e*

“Aizawa?” Izuku asks, just to make sure they’re talking about the same person.

*H-i-s-n-a-m-e* The head cock to indicate a question is back.

“Yeah, though you can probably call him Teacher, like this.” Izuku chooses the two taps on the head method of ‘teacher.’

*Teacher-h-a-t-e-m-e* Scarecrow uses the shortened version of teacher, and to Izuku it seems strange.

“He hates you?” He questions, the older man was kind, with seemingly unending patience. He was tired, and sometimes he didn’t have the will to deal with the students asking stupid questions. But he didn’t seem capable of hating anything. 

*Y-e-l-e-d-s-h-o-t-g-u-n* Scarecrow adds.

“He shot a gun at you?” Izuku cries, incredulous. 

*S-a-i-d-s-t-a-y-a-w-a-y-h-i-m-k-i-d-s* Scarecrow adds. 

Izuku thinks for a moment, “I don’t think he hates you. I think he’s scared of you.” Izuku pauses again. “I think, maybe we should tell him.” 

*H-e-s-a-i-d-s-t-a-y-a-w-a-y-k-i-d-s* Scarecrow signs again more emphatically. Before making a movement like someone shooting.

“Okay, and?” Izuku asks, he presses. Aizawa wouldn’t hurt the scarecrow, not if Izuku could explain.

*Y-o-u-k-i-d* Scarecrow pokes Izuku in the chest when he’s done.

“And I’m sure once he realizes that you haven’t hurt me he’ll be more okay with you.” Izuku insists.

*Teacher-s-h-o-o-t-m-e-a-g-a-i-n* Scarecrow insists, his movements frantic.

“Two things, first: he probably won’t shoot you if I’m there. Second: This is shoot, and you can really just point at yourself for ‘me.’” Izuku shows the gestures as he says them. 

*Teacher-w-i-l-shoot-me* The scarecrow insists when he’s done, with a head movement that Izuku was fairly certain would be an eye roll on anyone else.

“Well, I’ll be there. And I’ll make sure he can’t shoot you okay?” Izuku stands and gestures to the house. He’s ready to go now. 

The scarecrow is quiet, he doesn’t look up to Izuku or to the farmhouse. 

“Were you shot? Was that how you died?” Izuku asks quietly. He shouldn’t ask, he shouldn’t, but he needed to know, well, wanted, but the want was almost strong enough to be a need.

*S-t-a-b-e-d* Scarecrow signs slowly. 

“You were stabbed?” Izuku feels like he’s been poleaxed. He’s completely shocked.

The scarecrow only nods.

“I’m sorry that happened. Does it- Is it-” Izuku stutters over a couple more meaningless things that could be said, but none of them feel right. He shouldn’t ask if it hurts, that’s another step further than he should go.

*H-u-r-t-s-s-o-m-e-t-i-m-e-s* Scarecrow answers the questions that Izuku wants to ask.

“It does? I’m really sorry. I mean, I wasn’t asking that- But, what I mean is- Did- Was getting stabbed also what caused this? For you to stick around like, this?” Izuku has been lifted by this creature, person? He’s been swung around. Whoever, whatever Scarecrow is, isn’t any kind of spirit as Izuku knows about.

*D-o-n-t-k-n-o-w* Scarecrow replies, he shrugs.

“You’re sure?” Izuku asks, the scarecrow has been truthful so far or has he? He’s answered all of Izuku’s questions, but to what ends? What was there to gain from telling some random teen everything?

*M-i-g-h-t-b-e-s-t-a-b-e-d-m-i-g-h-t-b-e-e-v-i-l-w-i-t-c-h-m-a-d-e-me-scarecrow* Answers the scarecrow, he stands and moves to pick up one of the chickens again.

“Evil witch?” Izuku stumbles over the words but carries on strong, “You’re saying there was an actual witch?

*O-l-d-w-o-m-a-n-h-i-r-e-d-me-t-h-e-n-k-i-l-e-d-me-b-u-t-d-i-d-n-t-d-i-e* The scarecrow signs, then returns to petting the chicken. 

“How? Wait,” Izuku feels like a detective, but the only witness and victim doesn’t even really remember the crime, “you already said you didn’t know.” 

*S-o-r-r-y* 

“What? Why are you sorry? You were murdered!” Izuku freezes along with the scarecrow, but he pushes on, “You were murdered, you shouldn’t apologize for that.”

*You-s-a-d-d-i-d-n-t-m-e-a-n-t-o-m-a-k-e-you-s-a-d* Scarecrow painstakingly signs, holding the chicken carefully to his chest.

“It’s sad, you seem really nice, and you got killed. It’s sad.” Izuku does the sign for the words sad, “I may be sad but the only thing making me sad is that this happened to you. You don’t have to be sorry for that.” Izuku avoids stomping around, he doesn’t want Scarecrow to think he’s angry at him.

*Sad* Scarecrow signs. 

“Yeah, you’re really picking this up fast you know.” Izuku praises, trying to distract from the depressing nature of, well, Scarecrow’s death.

*L-o-n-e-l-y-n-i-c-e-t-o-t-a-l-k* Scarecrow pats Izuku on the should when he finishes, the glow from his face is softer but brighter. Not the near searchlights it seemed to be before.

“I bet, how long has it been since you talked to someone?” Izuku asks, looking up, up, up to the scarecrow's face.

*B-e-f-o-r-e-i-d-i-e-d* The scarecrow answers.

“How long ago was that?” Izuku asks, the scarecrow didn’t have any signs of how old he was, or when he lived, or anything.

*D-o-n-t-k-n-o-w-l-o-n-g-t-i-m-e* The scarecrow pets the chicken, seemingly completely content with his lack of knowledge.

“Do you… You know? You say ‘don’t know' a lot. It’s like this.” Izuku makes the gesture of ‘I don’t know’ and then sits back down, eyeing the chicken warily. 

*Dont-know-w-h-y-you-t-e-a-c-h-me* Scarecrow signs, then focuses on the chicken.

“Because no one should have to be lonely when they don’t have to be. I’ve been lonely before, too.” Izuku says, “But everyone here is really nice, and- I mean, if the weirdness that is me can make friends here, then I bet the weirdness that is you can probably make friends with them too.” Izuku smiles at the scarecrow, and the scarecrow only shakes his head.

*Teacher-s-a-i-d-s-t-a-y-a-w-a-y-k-i-d-s*

“And I’m positive that as soon as you meet with him and he gets to know you a little that he’ll be more okay with you being around us kids. Also kids” Izuku pats the air, “stay” he gestures down at one spot “Away” Izuku uses the shoo gesture for away.

*Kids-stay-away* Scarecrow’s shoulders droop.

“Yeah,” Izuku’s cut off by a yawn cracking yawn, “let's talk to Aizawa, and then we can introduce you to the others.”

*You-s-h-o-u-l-d-s-l-e-e-p-kid* the scarecrow pokes him in the chest.

“But I want to talk with you, and we need to talk with Aizawa.” Izuku can hear the petulant tone in his voice but he can’t stop it.

*T-o-m-o-r-o-w-you-s-l-e-e-p-n-o-w* Scarecrow stands and gestures to the bunk house.

“But I’m not even that tired.” Izuku protests as he stands too.

*You-d-o-n-t-s-l-e-e-p-you-s-t-a-y-a-w-a-k-e-m-a-n-y-n-i-g-h-t-s* Scarecrow signs out slowly, not on purpose but based on the fact that he only has one had to use to sign.

“How do you know that?” Izuku asks/

*L-i-g-h-t-s-i-n-h-o-u-s-e* Scarecrow signs, beginning to make his way to the bunkhouse slowly, still silently.

“What do you mean?” Izuku asks, no one was awake at night and no one was talking to the scarecrow.

*You-w-a-l-k-i-n-f-r-o-n-t-o-f-l-i-g-h-t-s-a-t-n-i-g-h-t-o-n-l-y-p-e-r-s-o-n-m-o-v-i-n-g* Scarecrow explains, watching the younger boy.

“You noticed that?” Izuku asks, standing in the same spot that he’d been.

*I-s-e-e-l-o-t-s-s-t-o-p-s-t-a-l-i-n-g* 

Izuku ducks his head at being called out. “You noticed that too?” 

*A-n-s-w-e-r-you-m-a-n-y-q-u-e-s-t-i-o-n-s-t-o-m-o-r-o-w* the scarecrow gives him a gentle push to the bunkhouse.

“Fine. But you’re answering all my questions tomorrow!” Izuku says, pointing at the scarecrow.

*B-e-e-n-d-o-i-n-g-n-o-t-h-i-n-g-b-u-t* 

“You’re hilarious. Fine, I’m going to bed. Goodnight Scarecrow!” Izuku jogs back to the bunkhouse.

*G-o-o-d-n-i-g-h-t-Kid* 

Chapter Text

The chair on the front porch isn’t the most comfortable thing in the universe, but it does the job of giving Shouta a place to sit and keep an eye on the kids and the coops. That kid’s still awake. I wonder what’s keeping him up.  Izuku passes back in front of the windows three times in as many minutes, either he forgot multiple things upstairs or he’s trying not to pace as much as he usually does.

Most of the kids are so exhausted they aren’t even making it through dinner. Watching Denki nearly faceplant into his potatoes had been the highlight of the evening. Though the light scolding that Tenya had given him had been interesting to watch as well. 

Shouta watches the lights flicking off one by one. His sitting out here was purely precautionary at this point. He’s gotten to know the kids in the last few weeks, they’re not stupid kids. Sure, lacking in the wisdom department, but time would (hopefully) fix that. They took him seriously overall. That was a good thing about being an honest man, when he could back up the little promises it made them believe the big ones. 

The moon was already getting higher, he could see it over the bunkhouse already. I have to go to bed soon, or I won’t be able to herd the kids tomorrow. It wasn’t that late, but he’d have to be up sooner than he wanted to. He’d still be drowning himself with coffee in the morning either way, but at least he’d be up and about earlier. 

But still, I miss the stars. 

It was later than he’d been up in a while, months, actually. In the city, he’d spent more than his fair share of time awake, under the filtered stars of the city. Out in the cold of the unfeeling city. But here he was, standing guard under the stars like he never had before. But he’d have to go inside soon, he couldn’t spend all his time in the dark of the night, with only the light of the moon and stars to see by. 

Just a couple of months ago I had never seen stars like this, and here I am thinking about how I miss them just from watching them for a couple weeks. Shouta laughs at himself. He gets used to things a little too quickly for his own good. 

Out in the darkness, he can see the soft blue from the scarecrow moving around. It passes the coop and goes into the barn, only to quickly leave and head towards the fields. Shouta knew it was late, but for the scarecrow to already be moving around in areas where he could see it it must be later than he thought. 

The scarecrow’s moving around a lot tonight. I wonder what it’s doing? Groaning, Shouta gets off the chair and wanders closer to the railing. He couldn’t see the scarecrow any better with his new vantage point, but it got the blood moving again and reminded him of the general aches and pains he had at the end of a long day. 

Helping or harming, though it’s been doing an awful lot of chores to be harming. If possible the scarecrow had actually been fixing more things now that there were students on the farm.  

Maybe it just wants help with fixing up the farm before killing us all. Shouta snorts as the thought passes his head. That's kinda messed up, I should probably go to sleep now before my brain comes up with any other terrible, strange ideas. 

The glow from the scarecrow is just barely visible through the brush and fields, though if you didn’t know to look for it, it would probably be indistinguishable from the light of the moon. 

------

Looks like the scarecrow's moved his post again, I wonder why he moves it so often? Shouta notes as he looks out his bedroom window to find the scarecrow no longer out there.

The only thing that got regular use anymore in the kitchen of the farmhouse was the coffeemaker. And that was in near-constant use. The nice thing about having hordes of teenagers passing through his house nearly all day every day meant that the coffee was usually fresh and there was always at least half a pot left behind. The coffee was burnt, but it was still warm, and it was enough to last until the first pot he brewed this morning was done. 

Maybe he just likes the change in scenery during the day.  

Looks like those two are awake already, I thought it was supposed to be impossible to wake teenagers up early. He watches the early morning activities of the early-riser teens, Tenya and Katsuki. Both appear to already be perky and ready to pick fights based on Tenya’s handwaving. 

Shouta almost, almost, wonders what the two early risers talk about while they both do their stretches, but really it’s probably just the two of them showboating and complaining about lack of gym equipment. 

There goes Iida on his morning run. The kid always ran like he was being chased, high speeds and no breaks at all during his run. Shouta had overheard him mention once that he liked to do at least one lap around the farm, which was probably impossible to do every morning. Then again with the way the kid ran, it might be possible. No idea where he gets the energy for that. 

And there's Bakugou doing some kind of strength training out front. Katsuki was a weird kid, always somewhere between completely calm and completely furious. He acted like nothing affected him, but if it didn’t enrage him then it hurt his feeling, and that enraged him. It was a terrible cycle really. 

Maybe the rage came from all the hot food he made, you could probably only eat so much spicy food before it started affecting your attitude. He was a pretty good cook when you could convince him to cut back on the spice level. He seemed to want to burn peoples’ tongues off when left to his own devices. 

That kid was the only one that had a pretty decent relationship with the chickens too, and he was the only one. The chickens hated everyone but that kid. Shouta was fairly certain it’s because when Katsuki threatened to eat them he was actually serious.  

Shouta notes some movement through the windows at this point, Mina is dancing in the kitchen while she cooks. Mina’s making breakfast, it’s either going to be delicious or a disaster.

Aizawa definitely didn’t just see Mina fall or the massive splash of whatever she had been mixing going up and probably all over. A disaster then. He drinks his coffee and tries to modify his mental timetable of when breakfast will be ready. 

Katsuki is doing something that looks like the demented cousin of pushups. Is he just going to move that inside when winter comes or is he going to keep going that in the snow? Cause he'll probably die if he tried to do pushups in the snow. 

There goes Izuku, how the hell is that kid up so early when I know for a fact he went to sleep later than I did. 

Izuku pauses in the door on his way out of the bunkhouse, apparently talking to someone who’s still inside. When he gets all the way out he apparently says something to Katsuki, but based on the way he shrinks back the other boy probably cussed him out again. Bakugou being a prick again, Jesus I hope I don't have to talk to him about anger management. 

It was something that he would need to talk about with the kid sooner or later, but he was hoping to push it as far into the ‘later’ category as he could. That's just a whole thing waiting to happen. 

--------

Shouta enjoyed talking with his friends, oftentimes they could just skip the pleasantries and get right down to what was going on and what was interesting to them at the time.

"It's a little strange to not crave cigarettes as much as I usually do." He was telling them, his addiction was something he’d been fighting on and off for right around a decade. When smoking stopped being cool and started feeling like a chore.

"Not even a little?" Nemuri asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, I mean, a little. But not enough to actually bother going into town and getting some for myself." Shouta answered instead. He’d gone through the two half packs he’d found when packing right after the living scarecrow discovery. But it had been different to smoke on the farm. There wasn’t an ever-present smell of it in the air. There weren’t people across the street also on their smoke break. There was nothing here that encouraged smoking, nothing that said, ‘It’s okay, you’re not alone, you’re not the only one doing this.’

"That's new, but smoking is a nasty habit anyway, it's probably better to rid yourself of it," Nemuri said over Shouta’s introspection, but he couldn’t find it much in him to be upset.

"No shit, Nem.” He laughs, “Anyway, how's Hizashi dealing?"

"There are good days and bad days, I think he misses being your foil. He definitely isn't going out and partying as much." Nemuri says, she must have put him on speakerphone because he can hear the rasp as she files her nails over the phone.

"Considering he's almost thirty-one. I'd hope he's not partying as much, you can only keep that lifestyle up for so long and he has to be near the end of his rope." Shouta says back, leaning in his chair, thinking about going inside.

"Yeah well don't tell him that, he'll have an aneurysm or something." Nemuri laughs.

"He would too." Shouta sighs. 

Shouta and Nemuri sit in companionable silence for a little while. This is what Shouta had always liked about her, she didn’t mind the silence and he didn’t mind her presence in the silence.

"Hey, what are you doing up so late for anyway?” She asks suddenly, “I thought you rose and set with the sun these days?"

"I'm just keeping an eye on the kids for a bit.” He answers, “I told you one of my major rules is 'no leaving the house after dark or else' so at very least I'm trying to act as a deterrent for long enough for them to realize I'm serious." 

"How's that been going?" Nemuri asks after giving him a couple of breaths to expand on that if he wants. 

"Not well.” Shouta answers then pauses, finally elaborating, “Well, most of the kids aren't going to sleep around dusk but at least they're finally starting to figure out their limits."

"Their limits huh?" Nemuri purrs, aiming for way over sexual to get a laugh out of him.

"Not that way you perv.” She succeeded and he does laugh, “Like the kids are figuring out what time they should be in bed if they have to be up at dawn, or figuring out that they need to nap in the afternoon if they're going to be up most of the night." He kinda wishes he had a smoke if only for something to do with his hands.

"Well, I suppose that is a good thing.” She hums, politely interested. Shouta knows it’s an act. “And how about the rotating meal schedule?"

"That's going less well, some of these kids are pretty good in a kitchen. Remember the quote 'Explosive blond' I was telling you about?"

"He's got a nasty temper right?" Nemuri says after a moment of thought.

"It's pretty bad. But I think the regular schedule and the hard work are helping him calm down. Maybe. He’s still a dick but he hasn’t punched any holes in anything so I’m counting that as a win. But anyway, so this kid is like, a master level chef, he had one of the girls helping him. Basically made a feast, enough for dinner and lunch the next day. Other than the fact that it was all spicier than hell I would have gladly paid to have more of it." 

"How good/spicy are we talking?" Nemuri asks, she wasn’t a huge fan of spicy food but if it was good enough she’d eat it.

"Literally chugging milk with every other mouthful, but still ate two full plates that night." 

"And you're not a wimp when it comes to spice either! How'd the other kids do?" Nemuri is now actually interested.

"Izuku and Bakugou ate it without any problems. At least three of the kids were all but sobbing as they were eating it." Shouta laughs. 

"That's terrible, why did the kid make it so spicy?" Nemuri laughs with him.

"Here's the funny part, I asked him the same thing: He said it was 'mild.'" Shouta says. 

"No! Seriously?" Nemuri gasps, laughing harder.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. We had a 'short' discussion afterward about taking other people's palets into consideration when cooking, but I really don't think he was listening." Shouta shakes his head, “He’s a good kid at heart, listens to most directions, he just wants to do things ‘his way.’”

"These kids can't be doing too bad if he's the first example you had in mind." Nemuri isn’t pleading but she’s hoping for better at this point.

"He was the 'best' example. Most of these kids aren't used to cooking for a crowd, a few of them I don't think have ever even stepped foot into a kitchen before." Sighing Shouta gets up for a lap of the deck.

"That can't be good." 

"Nope! Have I told you about the disaster breakfast?" He looks at the bunkhouse kitchen from his place on the deck. There might still be specs on the ceiling from that debacle. Though it might be from whatever went flying from Mina’s mess this morning.

"This sounds like I'm going to need a beer to even hear it." Nemuri groans. 

"You're not wrong, let me tell you that." Shouta pauses, then when he hears Nemuri’s little, ‘go on’ noise he continues. "So this kid, Kamanari, he can be really clever every now and then, but at the same time, it's like his brain just goes on short vacations sometimes and leaves him there looking like a complete idiot. So the other day was his turn to make breakfast, I know for a fact he was up more than early enough to make it, for some reason though when I went over to see how close to done he was it looked like the kitchen had exploded." He tacks on an explosion noise just to make sure she gets the point.

"Exploded?" Nemuri sounds aghast. 

"That's right, this kid somehow got pancake batter all over the counters, floor, walls, cabinets, as well as the oven." 

"HOW?" Nemuri yells.

"Kid didn't have an answer, just looked at me like a deer in the headlights." Shouta laughs.

"So what'd you do?" Nemuri asks.

"Helped him clean up and then finish making breakfast." 

"You're too nice sometimes." Nemuri sighs at him.

"Yelling at him wouldn't have helped. He already knew he'd messed up, if I had yelled he probably would have cried and run off or something and I would have been left to make breakfast alone. As it was we had a halfway cooked meal by the time the rest of the kids finished their chores so it wasn't as bad as it could have been." Shouta says. 

Another long pause and then Nemuri asks, "Well. I suppose. It's getting kinda late Shouta, shouldn't you be getting to bed soon?" 

"Probably, that one kid's light is still on and I'm a little worried." 

"The kid will be fine, they're probably taking the chance to play video games or something while it's nice and quiet there." Nemuri soothes. 

"You're probably right, I just want them all doing their best, you know?" Shouta says.

"Yes, you're an incurable mother hen. Now go to bed so you can properly mother hen all your students in the morning." Nemuri lightly scolds.

"Fine, fine. Goodnight Nemuri, talk to you same time next week?" Shouta play sighs.

"Sounds good to me, Shouta. Sleep well." Nemuri sighs and the phone clicks to indicate the call is over. 

Shouta sighs into the night, before dragging himself back inside. Izuku was still up and moving, but that kid would probably never go to sleep at this rate. 

He can’t see the scarecrow or its post. Maybe it's going to set up far, far away from the house and the bunkhouse and he can rest easy for a little while.

Chapter Text

Izuku found that his stress from sneaking out nearly every night was lessening every time he did it. Which was probably a bad sign. But if he didn’t nearly jump out of his skin at every small noise that the house made after dark, well, then maybe it was almost okay. 

Well, it wasn’t actually okay, but he could pretend.

As it was, after nearly a week of sneaking out at night to see the scarecrow Izuku had grown, not bold with his sneaking around. But he was less cautious with it. Which was probably also not good, but he was also not going to think too hard about that.

Tonight he crept out of the bunkhouse, still watching the farmhouse to make sure that Aizawa wasn’t out on the porch or waiting in the living room. 

With no sign of the older man, h e crept out into the night. Focusing more on getting to where he didn’t have to worry about being quiet than actually being quiet. 

"Scarecrow? Scarecrow? Where are you?" Izuku called into the night, still trying to be quiet but also rapidly moving towards the barn where he knew that Scarecrow was most likely to be.

Izuku could hear the quiet but still quite hellish noises that the scarecrow made, honoring his request to alert the boy of his presence. 

"There you are!" Izuku found him on the other side of the barn calmly petting one of the goats. "How are you doing today?" Izuku asked. 

Scarecrow's signing ability had increased in leaps and bounds since Izuku had started teaching him, but still, Scarecrow signed back carefully, Well-surprised-you-out-here-close-to-sunset.

"Aizawa went to bed early today so I felt pretty safe sneaking out earlier than usual," Izuku explained, leaning down to pet the now neglected acting little goat. 

Bad-idea-what-if-teacher-faking, Scarecrow signs at him, sparing a worried look at the house as though to check for himself that all the lights were off.  

"Then I'll probably be expelled from the class sooner rather than later and there won't be much I can do about it," Izuku answered, then he shook his head to refocus. "But never mind all that, I actually think we should go to Aizawa."

The scarecrow freezes, the burlap sack that covered his features somehow conveying the sheer terror that he had to be experiencing for it to come across that well. Bad-idea-teacher-shoot-me

"He won't shoot at you if I'm there." Izuku sighs, he can feel that this is going to be a long, long, long conversation in the making and he's already a little exasperated. Or still just eternally exhausted. "And either way, you're a good guy! You help around the farm, you take care of the animals. It's not like you're going away any time soon either." He wasn't pleading with Scarecrow, really, probably. Maybe just a little. 

Bad-idea, Scarecrow signs, he's not looking at Izuku again, focused on the goat as though it will keep Izuku's terrible plans at bay.

"Come on, Scarecrow!" Now Izuku was definitely whining. "Trust me on this! Aizawa isn't a bad guy, he's just worried about the kids living here. Right now he considers you a big threat to them, but maybe if he realizes that you want to protect them just as much as he does he'll calm down some." Izuku picks up the goat so that he can make sure Scarecrow is at least kind of looking at him. If the way the blue light darts between his face and the goat is any indication, it's working at least a little.

What-would-calm-down-look-like, Scarecrow asks, his hands moving slowly, and shaking in a way that Izuku hadn't seen from the giant-of-a-man before.

"I'm not sure." Izuku answered, then, speaking more to himself than the scarecrow he continues, "Letting us out after dark and maybe being a little laxer about chores?"

Chore-need-doing-animals-need-you-to-watch-over-them, Scarecrow is quicker to sign. When he was confident with his words he got faster, same for if he felt the need to correct Izuku on something, rare as it was. 

"Well, yeah of course. But maybe he wouldn't feel the need to go around behind us to check that we did every single job he gave us correctly?" Izuku hated when Aizawa did that, it was like he did trust the kids even after months of seeing that they all did good jobs.

Old-man-farmer-did-same-when-I-was-here, Scarecrow signs carefully then continues before Izuku can get a word in, not-insult-to-you-care-for-animals.

After a moment of pondering Izuku asks, more rhetorically than anything, "You really think so?" 

All-still-kids-all-still-learn-animals-can-be-hurt-or-sick-if-you-do-wrong-while-learn. Scarecrow explains to him. 

"That's a good point, although it's not like he's been doing it much longer than we have." Izuku feels the need to point out around the goat who's starting to get annoyed being in his arms.

Teacher-studied-more-than-you-all-alone-for-1-month. Scarecrow is quick to retort.

"Yeah, and he also spent who knows how much time beforehand studying up on all this too." Izuku concedes.

Still-kid-you-learn. Scarecrow pats Izuku's shoulder then takes the goat from him, putting it back in the pin with the others.

"I will." Izuku agrees, not really sure what he's agreeing to learn but still willing.

The two of them watch the small goat go back to its little herd before Izuku turns to Scarecrow, ready with his next question that Scarecrow may or may not remember the answer to.

"Hey, Scarecrow? How long did you work here?" He adds a moment later, "Before, I mean."

Under-year, Scarecrow signs, hired-fall-killed-spring.

"Oh." What a short time to work somewhere. Then something occurs to Izuku, "How long did you work on farms before that?" 

Most-summers-and-falls-for-I-think-10-years, Scarecrow answered which shortens and lengthens the mental timetable Izuku had been building in the back of his head.

"But not at this farm?" He checks anyway.

All-over, This Scarecrow signs happily, walked-town-to-town-did-small-jobs-where-I-could.

"Why did you stay on this farm?" Izuku asks, "I mean, I assume you didn't stay most winters."

Farmer-and-wife-seemed-nice, Scarecrow answers, offered-lots-money-to-stay.

"Ah, the age-old reason for anyone to work anywhere." He grins at the Scarecrow, and he thinks the other is smiling back. "But you seem really good at all of this, more so than just working on and off at various farms over the years would get you."

Here-long-time, Scarecrow signs, people-come-and-go. He pauses,  they-leave-books-and-tools-I-read-and-use-and-keep-together.

"So you've been doing your best to keep this place up single-handedly?" Izuku asks shocked, he didn't think one person would be able to keep everything going.

Yes-hard-two-things-break-for-one-thing-fixed. Scarecrow shrugs to end his statement, a very ‘what can ya do about it?’ vibe about him. 

"Yeah this place is huge, and even with all we've been doing we can barely keep up." Izuku shakes his head,  "You're practically superhuman! Uh, bad choice of words." 

Why? Scarecrow cocks his head.

"Because you were human but, you're not anymore," Izuku explains, each word feeling (and likely coming out) more awkward than the last. 

Did-you-mean-that-in-bad-way, Scarecrow cocks his head the other way while checking.

"No!" Izuku blurts, shocked. Then quieter he repeats, "No, I swear."

How-did-you-mean, Scarecrow asks.

"Like that, you went above and beyond what a- a normal person would be capable of! You're not human, you're superhuman, more than human." Izuku tries to explain.

Call-me-s-u-p-e-r-h-u-m-a-n-good-thing-call-person, Scarecrow doesn't seem offended. 

"Do you-" Izuku stops, shaking his head, "You're too nice. Most people would just get offended and leave but you don't. You bothered to ask to make sure I wasn't insulting you."

Better-to-think-a-c-c-i-d-e-n-t-not-mean, Scarecrow slowly signs, making sure Izuku can understand him.

"It's better to assume it was an accident, not done out of malice?" The boy questions just to be sure.

Scarecrow nods then looks out into the night, and up at the moon.

"I suppose it's better than saying I'm stupid," Izuku mutters more to himself than the tall, not-man.

What-do-you-mean? Scarecrow asks, refocusing on him.

"There's a fairly famous quote, 'Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by ignorance.' Basically don't assume someone is being mean on purpose when it might be out of ignorance or stupidity. So I was thanking you for not using the direct quote which uses 'stupidity' as the reason." Izuku explains. 

You-are-welcome, Scarecrow signs. 

"Oh, very funny." Izuku laughs at the Scarecrow and the Scarecrow laughs back. 

There's a moment of quiet from both for a while before Izuku once more breaks it. 

"Were you like this before? So..." Izuku pauses, "Forgiving?"

Yes-should-not-forgive. Scarecrow signs before shaking his head and stargazing once more.

"You shouldn't forgive? What shouldn't you forgive?" Izuku asks, surprised the other is so willing to agree with him. 

Others-killed-me-were-mean-in-many-very-bad-ways-should-not-forgive-them, Scarecrow pauses then shakes his head. He signs less agitatedly, should-not-speak-to-you-about-them.

"You should speak to me about them, I'm listening and I want to know.” Izuku presses.

Scarecrow watches him for a moment, his hands still resting at his side. 

“Please, Scarecrow, I do want to know.” The boy tries, doing the best pleading eyes that he can manage. 

What-do-you-want-to-know, Scarecrow finally signs.

“What do you mean by ‘they were mean in many bad ways?’" Izuku asks.

They-treated-me-worse-than-dirt. Scarecrow pauses, they-treated-me-like-cow-dirt.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Izuku asks him haltingly.

Dirt-from-cows-yes. Scarecrow sighs, though it sounds like the wind whistling through trees.

"Ew and how could they! You're so nice!" Izuku protests.

Wife-did-not-like-me-made-others-not-like-me. 

"Wait the farmer's wife didn't like you? I thought you said she was nice?" Izuku taps his chin like he can discover the answer if he thinks about it hard enough.

Early-yes-later-no, The scarecrow hesitates with his hands in the air before continuing. She-is-the-one-who-killed-me.

"She killed you?” Izuku gapes at the scarecrow in shock, “What made her hate you enough to kill you?" 

Don't-know-would-stop-when-I-know. The scarecrow shrugs.

"So she hated you enough to kill you, and turned everyone against you too?" Izuku muses out loud.

He offhandedly notes that the scarecrow nods at his assessment. 

"That's, why would she do that?" He says, muttering to himself instead of to the scarecrow. 

Scarecrow taps his shoulder and signs, Speak-to-you, with his head cocked in question.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” Izuku tries to better gather his thoughts, but they’re still spread all over, trying to figure everything out from the info he’d been given. “I just want to know the hows and whys and everything else there is to know about all of this, but-" Izuku pauses, a thousand words for the problem running through his head but none of them seem right.

Don't-know, The scarecrow answers for him.

"Yeah. That's the biggest problem right there.” Izuku shakes his head and throws his hands out in an exasperated gesture that encompasses everything and doesn’t mean anything, “And I know that you just plain don't know a lot of the whys, and the hows are probably way out there too. I'm, I'm sure the fact I keep asking probably isn't terribly nice either. I mean if I were in your shoes I'd probably want to forget it all too."

The Scarecrow taps Izuku’s shoulder again to get his attention. When Izuku stops he signs, you-done?

"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry.” Izuku flushes with embarrassment, “What did you want to say?"

Don't-be-sorry.

"Sorry- erm, uh." Izuku stutters over something to say but only ends up blushing worse than he already was.

Scarecrow laughs, his laugh sounded like a revving chainsaw or a choking beast, and pats him on the shoulder, his hand weightier than it had felt in the past.

Izuku waits for the scarecrow to sign something else, and when he doesn’t Izuku asks, "Is, was that all?" 

Scarecrow sighs, a gusty noise like wind through rafters, and signs, I-will-talk-to-teacher.

"You'll talk to him?" Izuku asks him, vibrating with excitement.

Scarecrow nods, about-past-yes.

"That's fantastic! Let's go now!" Izuku snags the scarecrow’s arm and starts trying to pull him towards the farmhouse, he only barely catches the waving of Scarecrow’s other arm in his peripheral. 

What-no-stop, are the few words that Izuku catches before the scarecrow plants his feet, physically stopping Izuku from dragging him any further.

"But you said you would talk to him? There's no time like the present!" Izuku protests, trying and failing to drag the very tall manlike creature with him. 

Midnight, Scarecrow signs, then points at the where the moon is creeping across the sky.  Teacher-sleep-let-sleep.

"But-" Izuku protests. 

Let-teacher-sleep. Scarecrow signs, teacher-does-no-sleep-enough-since-kids-here.

"He doesn't?" Izuku pauses. No-sleep-late-awake-early, the scarecrow signs, obviously trying to get his point across. 

"Oh, but he seems fine?" The man didn’t show most of the signs of sleep deprivation that Izuku kept an eye out for.

He-need-sleep-dark-circles. The scarecrow points towards his own glowing eyes for detail that he didn’t know the words for.

"You mean under his eyes?" The bags under the teacher’s eye had been noticed by every one of his classmates at some point or another. He himself had noticed that the man went to bed later than everyone except Izuku himself. The man didn’t even seem to catch up on sleep like Izuku did with naps in the afternoon, he just powered on and on. 

Yes. 

"Yeah, I mean. I understand where you're coming from, I just-" Izuku let the different hopes and ideas rush across the front of his mind, but none of them are concrete enough for him to argue before Scarecrow starts signing again.

You-e-x-c-i-t-e-easy. He tells the boy. 

Izuku laughs a little, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been told that. "Yeah, I guess I do. But, if not now, then when?" 

Scarecrow pauses for a moment, then another, and another after that. Just as Izuku is about to call him out on stalling he signs: Tomorrow.

"Are you sure?" Izuku had expected him to try to put it off as far as he possibly could.

Yes.

"Okay, we should probably do it sometime after dark. When does he usually go to sleep?" Izuku wants to plan some for the next evening.

2-or-3-hour-before-you-visit. 

"So like 10ish?" Izuku asks, trying to figure out the best time to head over.

Don't-know. Scarecrow signs while managing to give Izuku a disappointed look. 

"Yeah, yeah, that's on me. So we'll go see him before he goes to sleep around ten. So I should be out here before then so we can go over what we should say and do." 

Good-idea. Scarecrow tells him. 

"Thank you!" 

Izuku shuffles his feet, he was suddenly worried, scared, even. The burst of adrenaline that had come from getting Scarecrow to agree was wearing off and it left only the cold chill of reality in its place. If it went really badly there was a chance he’d never see Scarecrow again. 

Scarecrow taps his shoulder once more, It-will-be-ok. He signs to the suddenly nervous teen.

"Yeah, it's all going to be okay, I promise." Izuku tries to put on a brave face for Scarecrow. 

You-l-i-a-r.

Okay, he hadn’t put on as good of a brave face as was needed apparently. "Hey! It's going to be okay. We're going to go see Aizawa, and he's probably going to freak out a little. But I'm sure once we explain he'll be more understanding and everything will be fine." 

Convince-me-or-you? Scarecrow asks. 

"Maybe a little of both," Izuku admits to the nearly parental monster in front of him.

Will-be-A-ok. The scarecrow signs to him, no face to fake reassurance with nonetheless showing it with his body language.

"Yeah, yeah it will be." Izuku agreed, even if he didn’t feel it. 

Go-sleep-kid. Scarecrow signs, with a little shooing motion. When that isn’t enough to get Izuku gone he adds, will-not-sleep-tomorrow.

"Why do you say that?" Izuku asks, not really wanting to go to bed.

Going-to-talk. Scarecrow tells him, long-story-night. 

"That makes sense,” Izuku mutters, mostly to himself. If everything went well there’d be so much explaining to do. “Goodnight Scarecrow, see ya tomorrow night." 

Izuku risks a hug to the scarecrow before running back to the bunkhouse, only turning back in time to see Scarecrow sign, Goodnight-Izuku. 

Trying not to catastrophize as he went back towards his room, Izuku tried to think of all the good things that could happen once Aizawa found out that Scarecrow was a good guy. 

Chapter Text

Shouta had briefly stopped off in the bunkhouse’s kitchen to grab the shopping list the students had made. When he heard someone knock something over, there wasn’t any shattering, so he at least knew whatever it was hadn’t been broken. But he did hear the perpetrator immediately apologizing.

“I’m so sorry!” Izuku was saying to whoever his victim was. The boy rushed into the kitchen, grabbing some dish towels and running back out, seemingly without noticing Aizawa’s presence. 

“It’s alright man, you alright?” Izuku’s victim, AKA Kirishima responded. 

“Here, I’m so sorry.” Aizawa peaked through the doorway to the dining room, Izuku was shoving dish towels into Kirishima’s arms and trying to clean up the floor. “I’m okay, are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t warm anymore, anyway.” Kirishima was trying to soothe the apologetic and anxious boy while wiping his homework and himself off.

“I feel so bad. Is anything ruined?” Izuku asked, looking over the homework that had, from Aizawa’s point of view, only been lightly splashed from whatever Izuku had knocked over. 

“Nothing’s ruined.” Kirishima soothes. Aizawa peeks around the corner to see the redhead patting the seat next to him. “Come on and just sit down man, it’s not like there was a lot left, anyway.”

“I really didn’t mean to,” Izuku says in an almost protest as he sits.

“I know, man.” 

Aizawa smiled to himself at the way the red-haired boy tried to soothe the other teen. He listened to the two boys, deciding that he could postpone his grocery trip, instead looking for the coffee. Now that the situation wouldn’t need any kind of adult input. But he would be remiss if he didn’t know what was going on in his students’ lives to at least some extent. 

Kirishima could be so very loud, especially when he was around Katsuki. But he was ever the mother hen, too. Though he didn’t show it too often. Aizawa thought the boy was actually an excellent fit for the farm life, equal parts caring and dedicated. 

Aizawa can hear the way the boy paused before asking his question, that pause of unsureness, questioning before asking if it was his place to ask, “Are you sure you’re doing okay? Have you been getting enough sleep?” 

“Kinda.” Izuku answers him after a moment of mulling, “I’m usually pretty good about catching up on sleep in the afternoons, but I was up a lot later than usual last night, and I didn’t really sleep much.” 

“You should probably catch up on your sleep now. You’re not doing yourself or anyone else any good by staying up more.” The genuine concern in Kirishima’s voice has Aizawa smiling. He’s glad the kids are looking out for each other.

“I think I’m too wired to sleep right now.” Izuku chuckles, and Aizawa can hear the slight strain to it, but he’s already decided not to say anything this time around.

“Maybe catch up on your homework, then?” Kirishima offers, “Or help me with mine cause I’m having some problems with the,” Kirishima pauses, then continues bashfully, “Well, most of it.” 

“Really? But you seem to get so much of it in class...” Izuku trails off, like he’s going to logic his way through Kirishima’s problems.

“I don’t know, Bro! It’s like when Aizawa’s asking questions, it makes sense, but as soon as I try to put it to paper, my brain turns to mush and I can’t get any of it out.” Kirishima groans.

“How weird.” Izuku sounds immediately distracted by Kirishima’s problem. “Okay, what are you working on now?”

“Just English. I feel like there are too many ways to punctuate a sentence and not really enough differences between the different types of punctuation. Like the comma is almost the perfect bit of punctuation, but sometimes you can swap out a comma for a colon or a period or a semicolon, but you can swap a colon for a period or you can? What does it all mean-” 

Aizawa can’t help his own slight laugh at the boy’s obvious confusion, but he can hear Izuku’s full belly laugh at his friend’s confusion, and that’s almost enough to make him laugh harder.

“Izuku, I’m begging you to help me!” Kirishima not quite yells over Izuku’s laughs, and Aizawa has to make a hasty escape from the house to prevent the boys from hearing him laughing. 

As he makes his way from the bunkhouse, he lets the laugh burble out of him, and allows himself to be happy that the kids feel like they can ask each other about something as big as what’s going on in their lives and about something as small their homework.

---------

Aizawa checked in with the girls at ten till dinner time, Mina and Momo had worked on dinner together. The two girls made a tasty, allergen, and meat-free meal that was more than just filling. Aizawa had tasted it while they were working and had to stop himself from eating it all at once. Mina had shooed him from the kitchen while still laughing with Momo about some events earlier that day. Aizawa didn’t need to hear the conversation. The two were happy and having fun making a tasty dinner that could be enjoyed by everyone, and that was all he needed to know. 

The rest of the teens gathered and were ready by the time someone had set the table and the food was being dished out. Sparing a disappointed thought to the little-used dinner bell, Aizawa passed his own bowl to be filled. Momo was telling Tenya something, but Aizawa had tuned her out again, more focused on eating and then sleeping. 

Aizawa watched as someone filled the bowl, surrounded by the warm nonsense chatter of the teens.

Then he watched as it was passed off to the next person, Izuku, who was definitely looking about as rough as Aizawa was feeling. 

And then it was passed from Izuku’s hands to the table. And Mina’s lap. And splattered on Denki and Kirishima.  

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! Here, let me get the paper towels!” Izuku was already yelling as Aizawa tuned back in to realize the chaos that was unfolding. 

The two boys flanking Mina had both jumped up with her, more to escape the continuing torrent of soup than to help, but they both jumped to grab anything absorbent to help. 

“Ow, owowow! Hurry please!” Mina was also standing and trying to get the soup off her and her clothes as quickly as possible. 

“I’m so sorry, Mina!” Izuku had moved like a ricochet and was already back with the paper towels and kitchen towels he had grabbed. He threw some of each at everyone in the splatter zone and started working on wiping up the mess that was Mina’s spot. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima asks when Mina slows her wiping off her clothes. 

“Ow, yeah, I think so.” She prods at her stomach and thighs, wincing a little but not a lot, “I’m gonna go change.” 

“I’m really sorry, Mina!” Izuku says to her back as she leaves, the kid looking absolutely heartbroken as she leaves. 

“It’s okay!” Mina assures him, then turning back to the stairs she calls, “Just make sure to save me a bowl so I can still eat when I get back downstairs.” 

“Of course!” Izuku says, moving like he’s going to fill her a bowl himself. 

Kirishima stops him, “Bro, are you doing alright? Have you slept at all recently?” 

“No,” Izuku answers, ducking his head. 

Aizawa sighs. He’s sure he should say something, but the rest of the teens seem to have it covered. 

“Bro, you really should go to bed. You’re obviously not doing well.” Denki protests. 

“Wait, when’s the last time you slept, stupid?” Bakugou asks with his token caring but still insulting manner.

“Uh, yesterday afternoon?” Izuku answers quietly after a pause, as if to calculate. 

“Goddammit, Izuku! You always do this! Why the hell are you still awake this time?” Bakugou shouts, slamming a hand onto the table.

“Well, I-“ Izuku sputtered, only to be cut off by Katsuki once more.  

“Stop! I don’t want to hear your excuses, just go the fuck to bed you goddamn idiot!” Bakugou shouts at him, ignoring the shellshocked look of the rest of the students. 

“Bakugou, that’s enough.” Aizawa cuts in, leaving no room for argument.

“He’s gonna do something stupid cause he won’t sleep! He’s already dumped soup in Mina’s lap and probably dumped something else on Kirishima.” The angry teen literally snarls at Izuku, “He’s a goddamn menace when he doesn’t sleep. And unless we make him get his goddamn ass in bed, he’s going to continue not sleeping until tomorrow at least!”

“One, language. We already talked about this Bakugou. But I see we need to again. You’ll be with me after dinner.” Aizawa tries to soften the glare he’d had on Katsuki but he’s not sure how good of a job he does. “Two, Izuku, have you really not slept since yesterday afternoon?” 

“He just doesn’t sleep at night, he mostly just naps like a fuckin’ cat.” Bakugou huffs from behind Aizawa. 

“Bakugou. I didn’t ask you.” Aizawa barely avoids snapping at the boy. “Izuku?” 

“I have a hard time sleeping usually. I just haven’t been able to sleep today...” Izuku mutters. 

“Why don’t you finish up and head to bed then. It’s better to try to sleep than just sit around thinking about how you’re not sleeping.” Aizawa tells him, having spent enough nights doing both to know which one might help.

“Yeah, um. I’ll try that.” Izuku says, not looking at Aizawa, but he knows the boy will follow his advice. 

“Now, do you have any chores you need to do before bed tonight?” Aizawa asks again, grabbing himself a fresh bowl and filling it.

“Not today.” Izuku mutters. 

“Good, then there’s nothing stopping you from going to bed early tonight,” Aizawa tells him with an air of finality as he sits with his soup and finally digs into his dinner. 

It’s, unfortunately, delicious.

--------

Shouta knew that if the boy was anything like him, then Izuku wouldn’t go to bed that night just because he was told to. Izuku was a good kid. He just didn’t have the best sleep schedule. Not that Shouta himself had any room to talk.

Izuku may be a smart kid, but Shouta knew he was probably going to be up after all the other kids went to bed. 

So, even though he could have pretended that the kid was going to listen to him and taken the night off, Aizawa watched the house that night, anyway. 

There was one light on in one room at the bunkhouse. The one room was one that Shouta had previously dubbed as Izuku’s. Which meant that the kid wasn’t sleeping.

Even though he sent the boy to bed hours ago. As the hour got later, Aizawa wasn’t surprised to see that Izuku was moving around. The kid didn’t seem to sleep much at night. From what Shouta could tell, he preferred to sleep the day away and do things at night instead. 

There was no way that the kid was going to sleep right now unless Shouta personally went over and marched him to bed.

Shouta didn’t bother throwing on a coat. The weather was warming up as the days crept closer to summer. 

“Still awake I see?”

The boy’s floppy green hair nearly stands on end when the boy turns around and focuses on Aizawa. Nervously chuckling, Izuku runs a hand over the back of his head while answering, “Oh, yeah. I just wanted to toss some laundry in the wash, since no one else is right now.”

Shouta, being the kind person he was, decided not to comment on how hard Izuku jolted in surprise. “Do you want to talk about why you’re actually up right now?”

“Huh? W-what do you mean?” Izuku was panicking, that was pretty plain to see, but Shouta couldn’t be sure what was causing the panic. 

“Is it stress that’s keeping you up? Are you worried about the test on Monday?” Aizawa asks, probing for any little thing that might give way to an answer. 

“What? No- I just, um.” Izuku still looks a little panicked, his eyes wide above dark half circles.

He’s not meeting Shouta’s gaze now. Shouta waits. Time is one of the most powerful tools he has, but as the seconds creep by, he can feel his worries getting worse. Was someone hurting Izuku? Who?

Before Shouta can follow that thought pattern too far, Izuku speaks up again. “I have some things on my mind, that I’m- well. I- I mean- it’s not my secret, so I shouldn’t be talking to you about it without the person in question. But I’m positive they’re going to approach you soon.”

“Is the person in question in danger?” Shouta asks. He knows his voice sounds cold, he can see it in Izuku’s slight flinch, but he needs to know, and now. 

“No,” Izuku pauses, “at least not right now.”

Shouta’s blood threatens to turn to ice at that, if any of his students were in danger, he needed to know, but before he could say anything of that sort Izuku started to demure.

“It’s really not something I should talk about with you without them. But I’m positive that they’re going to talk to you tonight, so you don’t have to worry about it too much.” Izuku said with a bit of false cheer, Shouta could see right through it.

“Have you spoken to them about seeing me?” Aizawa pressed instead of allowing himself to be distracted.

“Yeah.” Izuku answered ruefully, “It took a lot of convincing but they’re gonna come and talk to you tonight and I’m going to be back up so they don’t feel too worried.” Izuku looks at Shouta with determination in his eyes, even though he looks so exhausted. 

As much as Shouta worries for whichever of his students may be in trouble, if they’re here on the farm, they’ll be safe for another day. “You should probably get some sleep then. You’re hardly in the best shape to be back up right now.”

“I know, but at this point, just staying up a couple more hours is going to be easier than trying to wake up in a couple of hours.” Izuku sighs, and honestly? Shouta’s been there before.

“Does it have to be tonight? Maybe you both should come to talk to me tomorrow night.” Shouta asked instead. A different night would give the kid a better chance of getting some rest before then. And maybe to calm his nerves a little. 

“It took forever to get him to agree to tonight. If I try for tomorrow, he’s just going to make it impossible.” Izuku throws his hands up in a fairly average teen display of irritation, before seeming to remember who he was talking to and acting in a more respectful way, “But, thank you for your concern, Aizawa.” 

“Of course I’m concerned, Izuku.” Shouta pauses, unsure if he should share his own problems with the teen, “You look like something I’ve seen in the mirror too many times and I want to make sure you’re okay.” he finished softer. Looking at the smaller teen, he could see the kid recognized where he was coming from, but for whatever reason, Izuku kept his secret. And while that was admirable, Shouta was slightly irritated nonetheless.

“I’m just fine, Aizawa. Goodnight.” Izuku said with a small dip of his head that served to hide his eyes. The boy turned and walked toward the stairs without another look at Shouta.

“Goodnight, Izuku,” Aizawa told the boy’s back, still unsure if he was going to see Izuku and one of his friends that night. 

He waited until Izuku was all the way up the stairs before he left the bunkhouse, locking the door behind him.

He couldn’t see the scarecrow on his walk back to the house. Which meant that it had moved from its post again and was wandering the farm once more. Which was something Shouta was entirely unwilling to deal with tonight, on top of his concerns for his students. 

He high kneed it back to the house, locking that door behind him as well before looking out the kitchen window to see if there were any lights still on. 

Only the living room light, which Shouta hadn’t turned off behind him. 

He hadn’t glanced at a clock before looking at the bunkhouse, so he wasn’t sure how long he spent looking. 

Eventually though, he got tired of watching nothing moving and went to bed.

Chapter Text

Izuku and whoever he was going to bring with him evidentially weren’t coming that night, as they didn’t show up at any point during the night that Shouta was aware of. 

The next day, Shouta watched all of Izuku’s interactions to see if there was anyone who could have possibly been who Izuku had planned to bring to see him, but no one seemed immediately happy or sad or anything out of the normal. 

That night Aizawa waited up a few hours after he would have normally gone to bed. Izuku and whoever he had been talking about were obviously once again no-shows. For a moment, Shouta felt a little bad. Izuku had said the night before that it had taken him a long time to get the other boy to agree to come to talk to him. Evidently, he had been right that pushing it off even one night might give the other kid what he needed to push it off forever. 

Shouta sits on the porch while waiting for Izuku, and whichever of the boys was coming with him. 

I guess Izuku and whoever needed to talk to me aren’t coming tonight. Shouta thought to himself, while stifling a yawn. He rubbed it after it cracked, wondering how late exactly he had to stay up waiting. 

Maybe Izuku had fallen asleep before the other teen had worked up the courage to come over to talk to him. It’s probably for the best. Izuku looked exhausted earlier today, too.

Shouta went through his mental checklist of the kids. There were only the eight of them. Seven really, considering that Izuku was trying to get the other one to come with him. Izuku had told him the other person was a guy, so that took Mina, Uraraka, and Momo off the list of suspects. And anyway, they seemed to be more or less adjusting well to everything.

Of the boys, Izuku seemed closest to Tenya, but from their interactions and emergency contacts, Shouta knew that Izuku and Katsuki probably grew up together. From what Shouta had seen though, while Tenya seemed to have some initial problems with the farm life, he was actually adjusting to everything and seemed more eager than before. Katsuki wasn’t in the same boat, but he also seemed to do well. He’d almost mellowed out, he sure still barked, but there was no bite behind it. Usually. Mostly.

But then there was Denki to consider. Denki and Izuku might not seem to be close, but there was always the fact that Denki’s first choice of cooking partner was almost always Izuku. Though outside of cooking and chore-ing, the two didn’t seem to spend a lot of time together from what Shouta saw. But Shouta wasn’t omniscient, and it was always possible the two boys were spending time together when he wasn’t paying attention.

Eijiro was the last suspect. 

Shouta knew that the two boys spent time together, and that they seemed somewhat close. But Eijiro was probably the most stable of the boys. No mood swings or diagnosable mental problems. The boy wasn’t allergic to half the things on the farm. He was always positive and helpful and when Eijiro wasn’t feeling positive or helpful, he either looked for support or told Aizawa what was wrong. He was so emotionally competent that Shouta knew Eijiro couldn’t be the person who Izuku was bringing with him.

Even though the list of suspects was already so narrow, there wasn’t any one person who stood out from the rest. In fact, if it weren’t Izuku acting as support, then Aizawa would have thought that it was Izuku himself coming to see him. 

Shouta spared a look around for the scarecrow. If it had been anywhere nearby he’d just go to the kids instead of letting them come to him. But the scarecrow was nowhere to be seen.

I don’t see the scarecrow, maybe it’s taking the night off. Shouta thought to himself as he looked around. He’d deny the burble of half-hysterical laughter the thought gave him, but now really wasn’t the time to dwell. 

It was almost midnight when he decided it was time to go to bed. The kids wouldn’t come, and if he stayed up too much later, he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight either. 

Shouta locked his door, but as he showered and changed for bed, he still kept an ear open on the off chance that someone was actually going to come to talk to him. He wasn’t really expecting anyone at this point. All the kids were usually long since asleep by this time of night. Well, except for Izuku, who seemed to run on intermittent two-hour naps. 

Shouta gave the kids a few more minutes. He sat on the edge of his bed with his bedroom door open. The clock on his phone said it was almost one, but he still wanted to give the kids just those extra couple of minutes if they needed them. 

Finally, he was done. He really couldn’t have stayed up any longer without some sort of stimulus. Which to him was really weird, because just this time last year he had stayed up for almost three days in a row without a problem. 

He crawled under the covers, leaving his bedroom door open, and let himself fall asleep. 

Only to be awoken some amount of time later.

Whozat? What?

“Who the hell could that be?” Shouta grumbled to himself, throwing the bedding off of himself and tossing his legs over the edge of the bed. A glance out the window told him it was still night. The sun didn’t even appear to be thinking about making its way across the horizon.

“You know you’re supposed to be in bed right now...” Shouta vaguely threatened, still too tired to question what was going on or connect it to the events of the last couple of days. 

He opened the lock and threw the door open only to find sweet, cheery-looking Izuku standing at the entrance, followed by the giant scarecrow. In an instant, all of Shouta’s lingering tiredness was gone. 

“Hi Mr. Aizawa, uh this is Scarecrow, and he wants to talk to you!” Izuku all but literally chirped and Shouta couldn’t handle his cheerfulness right then. 

“He-“ Shouta glances at the Scarecrow before doing the only thing he can think of. “What the fuck!” Shouta yelled while dragging Izuku into the house. He grabbed his gun and shot at the scarecrow the second Izuku was no longer in the way. 

“Wait, don’t shoot!” Izuku was yelling behind him, but Shouta could only focus with growing horror at the way the scarecrow seemed to dodge every shot he made at it. 

Suddenly Izuku’s arms were around his shoulders and he dropped the shotgun. 

“What the hell are you doing! That’s-” Before he could call it a monster or anything else, Izuku’s words pierced through Shouta’s thoughts.

“That’s just Scarecrow! He’s nice, I swear!” Izuku was yelling into his ear, and Shouta couldn’t shake him off to grab the shotgun again.

“He’s nice!” Aizawa yelled, terrified that he hadn’t known, that he hadn’t protected Izuku. How much time has Izuku been spending with this thing? “Izuku, we don’t know what the hell it is!” 

“Please, he’s my friend! He’s harmless, I swear!” Izuku clung to his back like a spider monkey. 

“Harmless? Harmless?” Aizawa yelled again, “Tell that to the dead coyote that I found! I sure as hell didn't killed ‘em, don’t know anyone who would kill them that way except… That!” Shouta got the boy off him, but the kid jumped back to the doorway. Jumped to stand in front of the scarecrow so Shouta wouldn’t shoot it. 

“Fine, he’s harmless to people! He hasn’t even tried to hurt me once.” Izuku was still yelling and Shouta wasn’t one hundred percent sure that this wasn’t some kind of fucked up nightmare.

“And you think because he hasn’t tried yet, he won’t?” Shouta pleaded while still yelling.

“He won’t! I know he won’t!” Izuku yelled, his arms still outstretched. 

“Then why doesn’t he just leave instead of scaring everyone away?” Shouta’s eyes flicked to the shotgun, then the boy, then the scarecrow, and back again. He needed to keep the kid safe, but how was he supposed to do that if Izuku wouldn’t even get out of the way? 

“He can’t!” Izuku’s eyes follow his to the gun and for a moment Shouta’s terrified the kid’s going to make a grab for it. “He’s trapped here!”

“Trapped?” Shouta yelled before the word actually made sense in his head, but then he actually heard it, and for a brief moment, confusion overtook the fear. “What do you mean, trapped?” 

“Like, whatever made him like this,” Here Izuku all but throws his arm back to gesture at the scarecrow, “Made him not human, also made it so he can’t leave the property,” Izuku explained, still yelling but not as loudly as before.

“How do you know?” Shouta asked.

“He told me. He also showed me. He really can’t go beyond the property lines. Scarecrow’s a person, just like us,” Izuku paused and looked at the scarecrow, turning his entire head away from Shouta, “just, trapped here, like that.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Shouta, who usually tried not to cuss in front of students, didn’t even bother filtering himself. 

“He was attacked by some of the people who used to live here but for some reason, he didn’t die,” Izuku shrugged and looked back at Shouta, “We don’t know why.”

Shouta looks at the earnest green eyes of the kid. He can see the way the kid is outlined in the glow from the scarecrow’s eyes. He looks over the kid’s shoulder where all he can see of the scarecrow is a vague outline and its glowing eyes. 

Shouta sighs, and wishes for the first time that he had someone else he could elevate this to. This was something he was so not paid to deal with. 

“You know what? Let’s start over. Why are you out here?” Shouta asks the boy in front of him, and the monster behind the boy.

Chapter Text

Shouta watched as Izuku apparently tried to figure out if Shouta was serious. 

Now it’s Izuku’s that gaze flicks between Shouta and the shotgun. 

After a couple of minutes wherein Shouta hadn’t made a move for the shotgun, Izuku seemed to calm down. 

The boy took two deep breaths, evidently to center himself, before speaking. “So, uh, like I was saying. Good evening, Aizawa! I’m here as emotional support for Scarecrow because he didn’t feel safe approaching-“

“HE didn’t feel safe?” Shouta couldn’t help interrupting Izuku.

“I mean, you did just shoot at him like two separate times in the last minute and a half, so I’d say he has a pretty valid reason to feel afraid of you,” Izuku said, making a vague gesture to the gun on the floor.

“That’s-“ Shouta paused, about to defend himself when he realized that’s really not what this was about. “Why are you talking to him? Why are you out after dark at all?” Shouta knew Izuku knew the rules. He had to have known that he could -would!- get in trouble for showing up here tonight at all.

Izuku turned into a stuttering mess, none of his words connecting at all. 

“You know what? No.” Shouta held his hand up, “No. You’re going back to the bunkhouse now. We’re going to discuss your punishment, in detail, in the morning.” Shouta pointed to the Bunkhouse, with no room for argument in his tone.

Izuku turned to leave then paused, his eyes downcast and he looked like he might start crying when he asked, “Should I, um, should I, start packing?” 

Shouta looked at the kid, really looked at him. He knew that the kid had probably started this out of the goodness of his heart. Izuku was one of the kindest boys Shouta had ever met. Only he could listen to a monster and then demand that his teacher help. 

“No. While you did break my number one rule-“ Izuku’s head pops up and he looks like he might try to hug Shouta, but that was quelled with a glare. “-you did it for a good reason, and you did your best to help someone. So while you won’t be expelled, you are still going to be punished severely.”

“Thank you, sir!” Izuku chirped, looking for all the world like he might still try to dodge in for a hug.

“Go, now. And go to bed.” Shouta pointed once more towards the bunkhouse.

“Yes, sir!” Izuku called back, already running towards the building.

Shouta stood in his own doorway, uncomfortably aware of how close the scarecrow was to him as they watch Izuku run back to the Bunkhouse. 

When the Izuku’s light finally went off, Shouta leaned down and picked up the shotgun from the floor. He didn’t aim it at the scarecrow, but Shouta felt better just having it in his hand. “I thought I told you to stay away from the kids.” 

The scarecrow made some movements with its hands, eerily silent as it moved without even a rustle of clothing. 

Shouta’s brain finally caught on that the thing is signing, but only catches a little of what it had said. 

“Wait, you can sign?” He asked it, eyes now fully focused on its hands. 

Kid-taught-me.

“Izuku-“ Of course the kid would give a monster a way to talk too, “He taught you how to sign?” 

The scarecrow nodded, and Shouta shook his head. “Why didn’t you stay away from the kids?” He asked again, suddenly exhausted as the adrenalin left his system.

Tried-kid-found-me, the scarecrow signed, slow but sure in its movements.

“Why didn’t you avoid him?” Shouta asked next.

Lonely. The scarecrow signed, and Shouta hated that he could relate to the creature that was living on his farm. 

“How much of what he told me was true?” Aizawa asked instead of the other billion questions that were running around his head.

All. The scarecrow signed simply. 

“So you’re what, some kind of ghost?” Shouta was looking for answers at this point, more than just what Izuku had said. 

G-o-s-t, the scarecrow finger signed, his head once more nearly touching his shoulder. 

“So you are a ghost?” Shouta confirmed. 

No, the scarecrow paused, don’t-know-sign.

“What?” Shouta could only blurt in response. 

I-z-u-k-u, the scarecrow carefully signed, showed-signs-I-don’t-know.

“And you want me to extend you the same courtesy?” Shouta couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Makes-easy-communicate, the scarecrow signed, and Shouta realized with a jolt it had gotten closer at some point. The scarecrow was now standing only five feet away from him.

“I don’t want to communicate with you,” Shouta spat at the scarecrow, terrified still of this thing that had been around Izuku for god only knew how long, “I don’t want my students to communicate with you either. I thought I made that clear when I tried to shoot you multiple times.” He raised the gun again to prove his point, hoping that the thing didn’t know he was out of bullets.

Kid-said-I-scare-you, the scarecrow signed like that explained everything. And it was an explanation, just not the explanation that was needed or wanted.

“And?” Shouta only just avoided yelling, “You’re some kind of-… Undead monster that’s living on a farm I didn’t even really want to own in the first place!” Shouta jabbed the shotgun in the scarecrow’s direction. A cruel curl of satisfaction winded in Shouta’s stomach when the scarecrow stepped back at his action.

I-didn’t-mean-scare-you. The scarecrow signed, its eyes focused on the gun that Shouta was holding.

“That doesn’t change the fact you did, and do,” Shouta admitted, keeping the gun focused on the other.

Sorry, the scarecrow signed.

Shouta noticed the scarecrow was backing down the steps, and it wasn’t till the thing was on the ground that they were anywhere close to even footing.

“How long have you been talking to Izuku?” Shouta asked. His observation wouldn’t add anything, and he didn’t need to focus on the fact that the creature was some kind of giant. 

Few-weeks, the creature signed. After a pause, it added, less-than-month.

“Jesus Christ, that kid.” Shouta couldn’t help but mutter to himself. 

Kid-doesn’t-sleep-well-I-keep-him-safe-at-night. The creature’s eyes refocused on Shouta’s face, and that’s not something that he wanted to think too much about.

“You keep him safe?” The incredulous note to his voice wasn’t as smothered as Shouta tried to make it.

Keep-him-out-of-wood-and-away-bad-animals. The scarecrow painstakingly signed its explanation and Shouta scoffed.

“So there are dangerous animals in the woods?” Of course, there were dangerous animals in the woods. There were always dangerous animals in the woods. 

A-l-w-a-y-s, the scarecrow signed, like it was on his wavelength.

Shouta stared at the scarecrow, and after a minute when he didn’t ask it any more questions it dropped its arms. 

The two beings look at each other. Shouta ignored the glowing eyes of the thing, instead focusing on the clothes and the shape of it. This was the first time that he had really looked at it, and seeing it moving around at night made it a very different creature than the one that sat on its cross during the day. The clothes were still sun-damaged, there was still the largish dark stain on the creature’s shirt right where the end of the ribs would be if it were human. Its boots looked like it was only prayers and duct tape holding them together, and someone forgot the duct tape. The glow from what had to be the creature’s eyes completely masked what its face may have looked like.

“You never answered if you were a ghost or not,” Shouta asked it finally, unnerved by the mutual studying that had been happening.

Don’t-know. The scarecrow signed with a shrug that he had probably learned from Izuku.

“You don’t know if you’re a ghost?” Shouta was surprised the thing didn’t know what it was. 

Not-g-o-s-t. The scarecrow signed back and, alright, maybe Shouta could see why it would be easier to just teach the scarecrow the signs for what he didn’t know.

“So do you know what you are?” He asked instead of admitting defeat in any way.

“No.” was all the scarecrow signed and the two of them stood in silence for a couple of minutes.  

“How long have you been here?” Shouta wished he had his notebook so he could make his own observations about the creature and not have to worry about forgetting them, but he wasn’t about to turn his back on the creature. Yet.

Don’t-know-very-long-time. Shouta made a mental note to see when the rumors about the demon started. 

“What’s your name?” Aizawa asked. 

Don’t-know. The scarecrow signed again with a shrug.

“You really don’t know, or you’re lying to save face?” Shouta asked.

Don’t-know-long-time-since-used. Shouta decided against banging his head into the wall with the rationale that he needed all of his brain cells for dealing with this thing and the fallout that was sure to come from dealing with it. 

“So...” Shouta paused while he tried to figure out what happened. “You forgot because no one’s called you by your name in a while?” 

Yes. The scarecrow signed, and Shouta wished that it would be a little more verbose. 

“Did you used to own the farm?” If he did that would definitely help narrow now the list of people that this could be.

No-work-here, the scarecrow, well, may as well call it Scarecrow, cause that’s what it wanted to be called, apparently. 

“There was no work here?” Why would the lack of work mean anything with Scarecrow owning the place?

No. Scarecrow paused clearly, then, Did-work-here.

“You did work here, but you didn’t own the place?” 

Yes, Scarecrow perked up at the more clear communication.

“Why were you killed?” Aizawa asked the question, knowing that it was a terrible question to ask.

Don’t-know. Scarecrow signed again, and Shouta was getting irritated at the lack of information that the guy is providing.

“You seem to have forgotten an awful lot of important things.” He told the scarecrow.

In response, the scarecrow almost frantically signed: not-lying.

“Uh-huh. You really can’t leave either?” Shouta double-checked.

Tried-many-times-never-left. The scarecrow’s shoulders slumped in what looked like defeat.

Shouta sighed. It was hard to fake that kind of dejection. “That’s, pretty shitty. I’m not going to lie.”

Yes. The scarecrow signed, and Shouta only barely avoided laughing at that and the insanity of the situation.

Shouta doesn’t hide the grin that popped up though. He’s certain he probably looked insane when he asked, “Are you why everyone thinks the farm is cursed?” 

Again, the scarecrow signed, “Yes.” And Shouta again wished that he would say more. 

“What’d you do?” He asked instead.

Tried-not-being-alone. The scarecrow signed somehow, even more dejected than before.

“I’m betting they took to it as well as I did?” Shouta asked. 

You-stay, the scarecrow gestures off into the distance, they-run. 

“So, worse than me then?” Shouta couldn’t help but grin a little.

Yes.

Shouta sighed at yet another one-word answer from the scarecrow and looked off to the east, where the sky was fading to the pre-grey of dawn. He was going to be exhausted tomorrow. He just knew it. 

This time the question that Shouta used to break the silence wasn’t shouted or angry or terrified. It was soft and exhausted. “What do you want out of me and my students?” 

Not-be-alone. The scarecrow signed slowly, and Shouta was sure that was for his own benefit.  

“How do I know I can trust you?” Shouta asked the monster in front of him, he didn’t trust the creature at all. But if it was going to hurt him or the kids he had to admire it for playing the long game.

Have-to. Scarecrow signed, and Shouta was surprised at the bold answer. 

“Why do I have to?” Shouta asked, curious at what the scarecrow’s answer would be.

Not-hurt-kid-or-animals, the scarecrow signed carefully, then more emphatically, Not-hurt-you!

“So just cause you haven’t hurt us, yet, means I should just place myself and the lives of my students into the unknown?”

Don’t-want-hurt-you-or-kids. The scarecrow began slowly inching his way back towards the deck, seemingly unaware of his own movements.

“Just because you don’t want to doesn’t mean you won’t,” Shouta said, lifting the gun again.

Scarecrow froze, then continued signing when Shouta didn’t immediately shoot him. Don’t-want-hurt-anyone-keep-kids-you-animals-safe.

“But why?” Shouta asked. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t any reason at all for the scarecrow to help him or the kids.

Animals-nice-kids-young-you-stay. Scarecrow shrugs and for a moment Shouta feels pity for the creature. 

“So you want to keep me safe cause I haven’t left yet?” Shouta confirmed, and wondered just how long this thing has been alone that such a simple and sad thing is enough for him to want to protect Shouta.

Yes-others-try-stay-too-scared-you-shoot-but-want-farm. The scarecrow signed to him like it explained everything, but Shouta was feeling more confused than before.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Others-want-farm, Scarecrow paused, too-scared-leave. Here the scarecrow paused and pointed at the other, you-too-want-farm-more-than-scared.

“So you think I want the farm more than I’m scared of you and others didn’t want to farm more than they were scared of you?” Shouta pieced out from the scarecrow’s explanation.

Yes! The scarecrow nodded its head so much that for a moment Shouta was worried that the head would come flying off.

“And for some reason that makes you want to protect me?” Shouta asked, still confused.

Yes.

“Any reason in particular for that or is it just that I stayed?” Shouta asked. He’d heard that people did extreme things when they were lonely, but this might take it a bit further than anything reasonable. 

Fix-house-fix-barn-fix-b-u-n-k-h-o-u-s-e-bring-animals-bring-kids-bring-life! The scarecrow signed these sloppily and fast, like it just needed to get everything out as fast as possible. 

The last sign really caught Shouta’s eye, “Bring life?” 

Bring-life-bring-more-than-dead-plants-dead-farm. The scarecrow carefully explained. 

“So you want to protect me because I’m not just letting the fields be barren and I brought animals and kids?” Shouta clarifies for his own sake, the scarecrow’s reasoning, unfortunately, made sense.

Yes. 

Shouta watched the scarecrow. It was moving now. But it wasn’t moving in a way that could be considered walking, maybe shuffling? The scarecrow was slightly waving, as though it were being buffeted by the wind. But Shouta, standing just in his doorway, could feel that there wasn’t even the lightest of breezes. There wasn’t any kind of movement in the night at all. He couldn’t hear any insect life or anything either. It was almost as if the scarecrow carried a bubble of stillness with it. 

Finally, the slight sway that the scarecrow was doing unnerved Shouta, who broke the silence again by asking, “Who approached who?” 

The sudden question seemed to surprise the scarecrow, who responded with its own first question of the night, What?

“Izuku never said which of the two of you approached the other when you met.” Shouta explained, “Who approached who?”

Was-petting-chickens-heard-noise-thought-animal-scared-kid. Scarecrow explains slowly, next-week-he-talked-me.

“So he approached you?” Shouta sighed. If it had been the other way around, he could at least continue to blame the scarecrow for getting one of his kids in trouble, but no, this was on Izuku. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” 

Good-kid-smart-bad-i-n-s-t-i-n-c-t-s. The scarecrow signed, and for the first time that night made some noise, a grating rasp came from the creature, and left all Shouta’s hair on end.  

“No shit. Look. I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t want you around the kids. I did, do appreciate your help around the farm. I probably wouldn’t have gotten it ready in time for the students if not for your help. But I have no evidence that you’re a good person other than the word of a 16-year-old boy who I know for a fact doesn’t always make the best choices when it comes to friends.” Shouta tries not to be harsh with his words, but it’s really not in his nature. 

I-understand. The scarecrow signed, its head dropping and its shoulders going up around its ears. Already it was turning away, to go where Shouta didn’t know. 

“As much as I hate the thought, I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt.” Shouta tried to ignore how the scarecrow visibly perked up at that. “If you do the chores, I give you and continue helping around the farm in other ways, I- hm.” Shouta cut himself off. He looked down instead of at the scarecrow.

For a moment, he ignored the movement in his peripheral that he knew was the scarecrow signing him something, but he needed a moment to decide what he was going to say.

The scarecrow makes a noise like a tree limb cracking, and that’s enough to get Shouta’s attention long enough for him to ask, Question-you-let-me-around-kids? 

Shouta looked at Scarecrow’s hands long after it’s finished signing the question. He mulled it over in his head, wondering if it was worth it to put the kids in this kind of danger. He wondered if he should start making calls to tell parents to come pick up their kids.

He wondered if he was making the right choice for any of them.

It took a few times of Scarecrow repeating the sign of, “Teacher,” for Shouta to realize that he’s just been ignoring the scarecrow while he mused.

It felt like trying to talk through a wired jaw before he answered, "I’m- just, stay away from the kids, for now, at least."

Shouta backed up into his house. He didn’t want to turn away from the scarecrow to get inside. And once there, he just reached out to close the door. 

The exhausted teacher rested his head against the door. Just closed his eyes and put his head and most of his body weight against the door. 

All the energy he had gotten from adrenaline, from curiosity, from worry was gone, and Shouta Aizawa was ready to sleep till dawn the next day. 

Before he removed his head from the door, he heard a soft thunk from the other side of the door, like someone else was resting their head or hand on the outside. 

He froze. The noise that came from the other side was obviously the groaning, cracking, breaking noises that the scarecrow made, but from here Shouta could almost swear that it sounded like someone saying goodnight.

Chapter Text

Shouta didn’t breathe as he listened for any sign that the scarecrow was still on the other side of the door. 

Eventually, several long heartbeats later, he remembered the scarecrow made no sound when it moved. It was probably already long gone. 

Not that he’d have any way to tell except for opening the door.

He went up the stairs to his room in a fugue. Life was entirely different from how he had seen it only months ago. Only weeks ago, even. Yesterday morning even. 

The sky was changing to red as he re-entered his room. This time, he firmly closed and locked the door behind him. 

He laid in his bed for but a moment as he tried to focus on anything but the conversation. The information from the sudden and -to him- astonishing conversation swirled around his head like a fat kid on a merry-go-round. There was so much information from the one conversation it nearly made his head spin. 

Every time he shook one part of the conversation from his head, another part suddenly came into focus, bright and glaring and more than he can handle at that minute. More than he could probably ever handle, to be honest. 

The monster just wanted friends. It felt like a stupid cliche. That would end with someone getting eaten.

He tried closing his eyes, but the only thing that showed him was Izuku’s worried and fearful gaze. When Shouta shook that from his head, he only the strange blue glow of the Scarecrow. 

How many times had he seen that blue glow in his time at the farm? 

He had to have seen that blue more times than he’d fully realized. It’d been there day and night too, now that he thought about it. He’d seen it nearly every night that the kids had been on the farm, always in the distance and ignorable. A few times before too, especially on the days where he stretched himself too far and tried to do too many tasks by himself.

In fact, he’s seen it since the first night he’d been there. 

The nervous energy, the leftover adrenaline, the residual fear, shivers through his veins. All of it mixed, causing him to turn and twitch and toss in the bed. Each position no more comfortable than the last, and each position incapable of relieving the words that plague his mind. No position or contortion would let him drift to sleep. Nothing he could do would let him get away from the thoughts plaguing him, even for a couple of hours.

Shouta got out of his bed and moved to the window, without checking his phone he has no way of confirming what time it was or how much time has passed since, since the potentially life-changing conversation with his student and the monster, the person, the being, the scarecrow. 

He looked out the window once more, searching for the scarecrow this time, both hoping and not that he’d see it. 

Shouta was torn. Part of him, one that was far too loud, was hoping it was out there, wanted it out there. Another part hoped that it wasn’t out there. Prayed that it wouldn’t be there. He was torn. Would it be there, wouldn’t it be there? 

Shouta wasn’t sure if he was happy or not that it wasn’t there, wasn’t where he could see it. 

He scanned the horizon again. Still no sign. Nothing moving. No glow.

He turned from the slowly diminishing darkness of the fields and focused back inside his house. Turning the lights on might alert any early risers to the problems their mentor was currently experiencing, but he couldn’t sleep, not anymore. 

Possibly never again if he couldn’t organize his thoughts. 

He wandered his own home like a wraith. Mixing with the darkness as he haunted his own halls. 

Sleep would not come to him again this night, though it hardly counted as night anymore. 

As the sun crept closer and closer to the horizon, Shouta gave up on organizing his thoughts about the night before. There was no actual point, anyway.

He flicked on the coffeemaker and went to his study to work on grading papers until a more decent hour. 

Chapter Text

To say it surprised Shouta to wake up again sometime after sitting down to grade papers would be like saying that it surprised a bear to be woken up in the spring. Which would be not very, but still kind of grouchy that it happened at all.

“Holy shit! What the Hell is that!” Someone was shouting outside. Shouta, who was still half asleep, wanted to say that was Denki yelling, but why would the boy be yelling this early in the morning?

“Is it gonna eat the chickens?” 

Despite the rising alarm that Shouta felt, he wasn’t too concerned with Kirishima’s statement. After all, he didn’t sound scared. Mostly confused. Shouta found his still mostly full coffee cup close to the edge of the desk, and cold. 

“Shut the fuck up! It’s not going to eat the chickens!” Katsuki yelled, as loud as if he were yelling from right next to Shouta. 

Nearly dropping his cup of nearly ice-cold coffee, Shouta looked out the window, but realized that he couldn’t see any of the teens from there, though he’d left the window open at some point allowing him to hear them.

“Aizawa! There’s a monster in the chicken coop!” Mina yelled, and while she sounded surprisingly unconcerned, that’s what kicked Shouta into action. 

He dropped the coffee cup onto his desk and darted out of the office and down the stairs.

“Guys, he’s harmless!” Izuku was yelling as Shouta skidded out the front door. The still half asleep man could see the group of teens standing around the chicken coop. 

That wasn’t quite right. As Shouta got closer, he could see that Izuku, and strangely enough, Katsuki, were standing in front of the chicken coop protectively. 

“It’s huge! How did it get in there?” Kirishima seemed to take his queue on how to react from the boys standing guard, and while he certainly didn’t appear to be scared, he was very confused. 

“The scarecrow is live!” Denki was shouting, which, alright, even from this distance Shouta had been able to tell, but the kid didn’t need to yell about it so loudly. 

“How did it get down from its post?” Tenya asked, less concerned about the what and more concerned about the how. 

“The real question is: why is it in the chicken coop?” Momo, an emerging pragmatist, had the sense to ask.

“What’s going on out here?” Shouta shouted, skidding to a stop near the coop. He took in the scene from up close. There was Bakugou, looking ready to punch someone but still in front of the chicken coop with Izuku. And Izuku standing in front of coop looking like he was going to make a run for it but was only staying where he was through sheer force of will. Shouta could just see the movement of the scarecrow in the coop, but the teens yelling from all sides preoccupied him.

“SHUT UP!” He ended up hollering just to get a bit of peace for a moment. 

The kids were all shocked into silence. While it helped Shouta’s less than caffeinated brain, it didn’t really process most of what he’s heard. A chanced glace revealed that the scarecrow is also watching him with the same shocked silence as the teens. 

“Aizawa, what’s going on?” Kirishima had worked up his nerve faster than the others, and had stepped forward to look around Shouta at the two kids standing guard and the scarecrow behind them

“I would like to learn that for myself.” Not that he’d admit to himself later, but Shouta spared a glance at the scarecrow, who shrugged in return.

“Alright!” Shouta yelled again, startling the teens who were still trying to see around him. “All of you whose chores don’t relate to the chicken coop need to go to your chores now. I’ll explain what I can over breakfast.”

“But Aizawa-“ Mina started before Shouta cut her off with a gesture.

“I said go.” He told the girl, leaving no room for arguments. “The animals don’t care if there’s something going on over here. All they know is that they don’t have food cause you’re running late.”

Discontented mutterings aside, the other teens wandered off to complete their chores, leaving Izuku and Bakugou behind.

Shouta noticed that there’s at least one teen remaining who shouldn’t be there. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else this morning, Bakugou?”

“I’m supposed to be turning over the floor of the coop.” Katsuki tells him, making zero movements, to go around the coop to get the tools for turning over the coop floor or to even leave the conversation. 

“You’re, um, you’re honestly weirdly calm about Scarecrow being in here.” Izuku said while Shouta was still trying to stare down Katsuki. 

“Usually, the chickens are only this calm when Aizawa or I are dealing with them.” Katsuki says with a slow turn of his head and refocusing of his eyes. The brat was somehow both completely calm (Weird) and utterly aggressive (normal). “If they even vaguely thought he was a threat, they’d be throwing a huge fit. He can’t be that bad if they’re just letting him pick them up.” Katsuki gestured at the totally placid hen sitting in the scarecrow’s arms as proof.

Shouta sighed and rubbed his eyes, choosing to ignore the scarecrow and hen. “Why don’t you go help whoever’s on breakfast this morning and I’ll send them out later to help you with the coop.”

“No, I’m supposed to be turning over the coop, you can talk about whatever you’re going to talk about around me.” Bakugou said, finally turning to go to where the cleaning tools were on the other side of the coop.

“Izuku?” Shouta prompted.

With a severe lack of plan caused by a lack of coffee, Shouta was distracted from trying to reassure Izuku by the scarecrow waving his hand to get Shouta’s attention, Why-you-pants-say-J-u-i-c-y?

“That’s beside the point. What the Hell are you doing up and about? I thought you were completely nocturnal?” Shouta tried not to seem too shaken by the sudden upheaval of what he thought he had known about the scarecrow.

The scarecrow looks at him with a slight tilt to its head, then, careful not to disrupt the chicken in its arms, it slowly finger spells, N-o-c-t-u-r-n-a-l?

“Nocturnal,” Shouta is trying to figure out if he’s willing to explain to the creature when Izuku makes the sign, his fist dropping on the far side of arm making an impromptu horizon. “He means he thought you could only move around at night, and honestly, I thought that too?” Izuku watches the scarecrow mimic the sign. 

When the Scarecrow receives a nod that it’s doing it right, it puts down the chicken and explains, easy-stay-away-kids-night-day-leave-me-alone.

“So that doesn’t explain why you’re moving around during the day now.” Shouta really, really didn’t want to deal with this, he thought it would be easy to keep the monster away from the kids and vice versa, and now the scarecrow was in the chicken coop.

The scarecrow signed in a slow, careful manner, like it was unsure of its own words, You-said-I-communicate-with-kids.

“I did NOT say you could be around the kids. I said if you didn’t give me a reason to be worried about you hurting the kids, I might let you be around them.” Shouta hissed at the scarecrow, only the barest hint of his rational mind reminding him that letting everyone on the farm know his exact thoughts on the subject would probably be a very bad idea. 

The scarecrow raised its arms like it’s going to defend itself when Izuku physically places himself between the scarecrow and his teacher once again. “Really sir, he hasn’t tried to hurt me or any of the others or any of the animals. He’s harmless really!” Izuku is pleading with him, but Shouta isn’t sure how to explain to the boy that it’s not his fault that he made friends with an absolute mystery that could kill dangerous predators with little effort at all. 

Once again, before he or the scarecrow can articulate their thoughts, Katsuki decides he had to play the role of defender too, “Aizawa, if he was going to hurt us, -or fuck, kill us!- Wouldn’t he have had ample time? We’ve been here for months.” 

The blonde boy is calm and collected, completely unafraid of the scarecrow he’s standing less than arms-length from. He’s right, as much as Shouta hated to admit it. And he kept talking, despite how much Shouta wanted him to find something else to do.

“Months! Months, where it would have been easy for him to pick us off one by one if he really wanted.”

“You’re not helping as much as you think you are.” Shouta groaned as he rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve the sudden tension headache that was brewing there. 

Izuku was already jumping to defend the scarecrow even more. “Please, Mr. Aizawa. He just wants to be around people again! He-“ 

Izuku paused to gather his thoughts a moment too long, and Katsuki jumps in to continue the argument, “Other than the fact that he’s fucking glowing, there doesn’t seem to be anything obviously menacing about him. Let us decide if we want to be around him or not.” Bakugou pressed.

Shouta puts on his best disappointed but concerned teacher's voice. “The point, Bakugou, is that while you’re here, I’m your legal guardian. That means that I have to make certain decisions regarding your safety, including whether or not to let you and the others be around, that.”

“But Aizawa-“ Izuku was trying to defend the scarecrow once more.

“Izuku! Stop.” Shouta snapped. He wanted to take it back, but he needed them to shut up long enough for him to gather his thoughts.

He makes the mistake of looking at the scarecrow, who signed, I-won’t-hurt-kids.

“So you say.” Shouta told the too tall creature that’s somehow got two of the most stubborn kids he’s ever met to back it. 

“How the Hell do you expect him to prove he won’t hurt anyone when you won’t let him around anyone in the first place?” Bakugou spit from the scarecrow’s side, and Shouta can’t even try to continue this conversation with the two teens there too.

“Bakugou, Izuku, go help whoever’s making breakfast now. Or I’ll expel you both.” Shouta told them, crossing his arms over his chest.

The boys trade a look, and then set off for the bunkhouse at a jog. Shouta waited till they reach the building to even turn back to look at the scarecrow, and only just avoids jumping when he finds it standing only a few feet away.

H-a-r-s-h. The scarecrow signed once he’s no longer watching the boys.

“You.” Shouta said with all the ice in his voice that he could muster. He absolutely does not feel bad at the scarecrow’s full-body flinch. “I told you not to go around the kids twice now.” 

Kid-found-me, it signed a little quicker, but more messily, trying-help!

“Why are you out during the day?” Shouta didn’t care that the scarecrow was helping. He didn’t want to know what the scarecrow was doing, he just wanted it far, far away from the teens under his protection.

You-know, the scarecrow signed, like Shouta actually did know, and when he makes no move to agree, it continues, said-I-could-help. And when Shouta still didn’t agree or make any motions of acceptance, it continues again, you-know-I-come-out-day-time-help.

“Fine. Help.” Shouta didn’t really want it helping, and he didn’t know what it said about him agreeing to let it around the farm during the day, because he hadn’t agreed to anything like that as far as he could remember, but he would not say anything about that. “There’s a list of chores by the barn. Do things off of it. If you harm even a hair on one of my students’ heads I’m going to personally rip you into the smallest pieces physically possible and then run you through a wood chipper. Do you understand?”

The scarecrow flinched again. It wasn’t looking at Shouta now, simply bowing its head, I-understand.

“Good. You are still not allowed in the house or bunkhouse. If I find you in either of those places, I will shoot you. Do you understand?” Shouta asked it again. Normally never this creative with threats but perhaps being tired had some benefits. 

I-understand. It signed again, still not looking at Shouta. 

He tried not to feel bad. It was a monster of unknown origin that could potentially kill anyone, at any time. But he had somehow cowed it with surprisingly few words. The scarecrow wasn’t actually scared of him, it couldn’t be. But as Shouta looked at it, at the way that it ducked its head like one of his students when they were scared or ashamed. He felt more than a little bad for yelling at it like he had. 

Shouta caved a little. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone. “In the afternoons we have signing practice. You’re welcome to join so you don’t have to spell out every third word.”

The scarecrow’s head jerked up, and after a moment where it seemed to simply look at him (though Shouta felt nearly laid bare at its look).

Shouta turned away from the scarecrow and the look it was giving him, but he didn’t miss the way the scarecrow carefully signed, Thank-you.

Shouta pretended that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Turning the rest of the way to face the farmhouse, he walked back without a glance behind him.

Except for the glance when he reached the door, which he would tell no one about either.

Chapter Text

Aizawa skipped classes that day. Instead he choose to talk to each of the teens, to do his best to explain and why he was concerned. Well, explain on a kid friendly level. He wasn’t talking down to them, he was concerned about the kids, and he didn’t want to scare them with his own, reality-based in fears. 

The kids all seemed to take it alright. Thought it was possible that Izuku had gotten to them before him and told them what the scarecrow said. Aizawa knew he didn’t know all of it. He worried that there was more that might be risky, or terrible, or potentially threatening to the students, but he just didn’t know.

Aizawa grudgingly allowed the scarecrow to join them that afternoon when it was time for the signing lessons. The scarecrow spent the lesson watching the kids. Aizawa encouraged the kids to talk while they signed, so he could understand what they were saying while still learning and practicing the signs. The scarecrow mimicked what the kids were doing, occasionally asking his own questions.

Some of the teens were wary of the scarecrow at first, which was better than nothing. But still the kids were warming up to him too fast for Aizawa’s peace of mind. 

Mina herself had gone from shrewdly observing the scarecrow to happily trying to help Izuku teach it. Not that she was much better than the scarecrow. 

At dinner, Aizawa ignored the kerfuffle caused by the scarecrow. Still, the kids’ excitement got through to him, while Aizawa still felt unease with the scarecrow, he wondered what else could be found around the farm.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks felt like a whirlwind of action.

The weather finally warmed up and some of the plans that Aizawa had could be enacted. 

The first of which that Aizawa wanted was getting the fields ready for crops. Letting the kids set up their own plots for vegetables and flowers.

They started with plowing the fields. 

Between the nine people currently living on the farm, only three of them could drive. Aizawa was starting to understand why most farm kids learned to drive so early. But that was still enough for Aizawa. He showed the kids the method that they would use to plow the fields then sent them off to work in groups. 

His group, which had Momo and Kirishima, finished first.

Aizawa, who didn’t expect to work so hard plowing the one field, sent the two teens off to make lunch for everyone while he didn’t (Lie.) take a nap. 

Over lunch, he listened and watched as Momo and the scarecrow discuss the plowing they had been doing that day. While Momo prefered the modern, less backbreaking method they had been doing, she listened as the scarecrow explained about different kinds of plowing and the different types of seeding and planting of the fields. Aizawa paid more attention to the seeding techniques that both mention, and he made a note to himself to praise Momo for researching this stuff.

The afternoon was spent with more same, till nine small fields are plowed to Aizawa's liking and the teens are ready to pass out. 

Aizawa didn’t have to stay out that night to check on the kids. By the time that he went out, all the kids were in bed and all the lights are off. 

The next day they seeded six of the fields by hand and manage to finish before lunch. Aizawa gives them the rest of the day off and spends the afternoon sitting on his porch enjoying the sun.

The next day was spent preparing garden patches for the teens. Then going into the smallish city an hour away so they can look at all the different seed options that the garden center there offered. The kids had fun picking out seeds while Aizawa wandered the store, deciding if he wanted to replant all the ivy that had lived in the covered porch. 

An hour later Aizawa had found something that would work, and the kids were ready to go and plant their new pet projects. 

When they got back, the kids ran to their plots, each ready to go all night, which Aizawa was not going to allow. 

The sun set and the children went to bed, all buzzing with excitement over their plots and the crops.

Aizawa hadn’t planned on staying up that night. He thought that the kids would be up for a while, but he didn’t think that any of them would do more than chatter with each other.

Of course, they had to prove Aizawa wrong. 

He woke up around to midnight, he risked a glance outside to see if any of the kids were up. Instead, he saw the scarecrow and Kirishima working on the boy’s garden patch. Kirishima had on a headlamp and was carefully measuring the distance between little holes in the ground while Scarecrow sat nearby and held the seed pouches they had gotten. 

Aizawa watched the two work under the cover of darkness. He could have punished Kirishima for being out late, with the creature of unknown origin no less. But, he could hear the boy’s laughs, and they really weren’t hurting anyone. He was still working, putting his focus and care into the project. Using time he hadn’t had during the day. 

Thought Aizawa was going to tell him he shouldn’t work out there at night. 

The students spent the next few days were spent catching up on schoolwork and working on their gardens.

Denki’s turn at the chicken coop came up, and it came out that the boy was terrified of chickens. And they hated him in turn. 

Aizawa wasn’t sure how to help the boy with his fear. The other teens weren’t really any help. Bakugou suggested just locking all of them into the coop overnight. Which was terrible in theory, and in practice might leave the other teen permanently scarred and terrified of chickens for life. 

Physically and emotionally. 

Tenya suggested exposure therapy, which was good in theory but would take more time than Denki would be at the farm. 

The kid was still on board for some of the chicken related chores. As long as he wasn’t in contact with the chickens, he was fine. 

Well, fine wasn’t quite the right word. There were some -Momo and Izuku- that argued that what they were doing now did count as a form of exposure therapy, and might help in the long term, but Aizawa wasn’t sure.

The scarecrow suggested one on one with a chicken and Denki. The teen might do better if given the chance to form a personal bond, so he could see they weren’t all bad. 

Aizawa hated to admit it, but to him that seemed like the reasonable option. Or, it seemed like the option with the least potential for long term mental scarring. 

So, Aizawa reluctantly asked the Scarecrow what he thought the best course of action would be.

The scarecrow takes Denki and the other kids out to the chicken coop. It instructs them on how to best hold the chickens without getting pecked was then one by one, handed each of the kids a chicken. The chickens, while not happy, accepted it. For the time being. 

While the Scarecrow helped Denki with his fear of the chickens, Aizawa was still concerned about the boy. But as the days went by, Denki devolved into a terrified puddle of tears less and less. 

Aizawa had to admit that it was working. Even if it seemed like a terrible plan.

The scarecrow made its way into the students’ lives. It offered its help to the students when they needed it, and when they didn’t he let them be.

Scarecrow had even taken to helping the kids who were having problems with their signs and practicing with them. Teaching them in turn while practicing himself. Most of the teens would practice with him for short periods, usually having other things they needed to do. 

More than once Aizawa found the scarecrow and Izuku having discussions about just about everything under the sun when they should have been choring. Granted, Aizawa had also found them both talking about everything under the sun while choring too. They both looked heartbroken when Aizawa joked he might have to separate them. Which hurt.

He left them alone more after that, they got the work done in a timely manner, anyway. 

But Izuku and Scarecrow’s constant signing had a benefit; Mina, who tried so hard to sign but seemed to have a hard time signing what she was thinking, could spend time with the two. They two had a lot more patience for teaching ASL then Aizawa would have guessed, and since the two of them were always conversing together, Mina was able to join them. The three of them worked on her sign together, helping her learn and reminding her that it was okay to pause to gather her thoughts and articulate them. 

Aizawa had a hard time explaining that, but was glad that the girl was learning.

Another thing Aizawa had noticed, the scarecrow wasn’t as active at night anymore. It had been a while since he’d seen the scarecrow on his perch, he knew the scarecrow was resting somewhere at night. It mostly lurked around the barn at night. Izuku had offered the explanation that the scarecrow was monitoring the animals, but that, felt off to Aizawa . 

There had to be another reason, more than just care for the animals. Though that was as good cover as any. 

Aizawa did his best to make sure Izuku and the other students knew not to go out at night, even if their friend could protect them -In theory- Aizawa didn’t want the kids to build up new bad habits.

Which meant Aizawa had to stay up after sunset to make sure that no one was sneaking out again. Irritating, but something that needed doing. They all tried to sneak out at some point.

Aizawa would have thought it was sweet but he was just trying to keep them alive! 

Why were they fighting him so hard on this?

Sometimes he wished there was another adult on the farm, someone who understood. Or at least someone to talk to about all this. 

Midnight and Hizashi couldn’t understand. 

The three of them had been friends for long enough that he knew how they’d react when he told them. 

Midnight would listen attentively, all while figuring out how to get him back to the city, as soon as possible. She’d probably figure it was brought on by stress and environmental stressors, along with having to take care of a bunch of kids and animals by himself.

Hizashi would probably just tell him that what he was seeing wasn’t real and that maybe he needed a break and, hey! Did you hear about this thing that was going to happen next week? 

Aizawa thought about telling Nezu too. The man was always a good listener when Aizawa had problems as a teen. 

But here, now? 

As an adult with some kind of a magical monster on a farm? Nezu would probably ask him a bunch of psychoanalytical questions. And then because the Scarecrow was real would assume that Aizawa was insane anyway and send him for an emergency psychiatric hold. Aizawa of course would then be trapped in the system forever with a million other people who insisted that their delusions were real, with the only difference being that his really were. 

Wasn’t it? It was, no was not the time to question his sanity.

There was no one he trusted that he could tell. They would worry too much or not enough. 

Too much bad in the world for him, but to immediately assume that his friends and mentor would turn on him like that. 

Maybe they would believe him? Maybe they’d even come out to the farm to check for themselves. Then he could show them the scarecrow and crow, “Look! It’s REAL! I’m not making it up!” 

And then they could all live happily ever after. 

Ugh. These rabbit holes in his mind were certainly something to go down. Aizawa should know better than to fall down them. 

He needed another person there in the mornings.When the sun was still breaching the horizon and he wasn’t fully caffeinated.

There were times between waking and his first cups of coffee where it felt like he wasn’t always seeing things right. So many things could be mistaken for other things. Aizawa really needed was someone there with him, telling him they saw it too. 

Like right that instant, he really needed someone to confirm what he was seeing because he could have sworn he saw what looked like Scarecrow and D’Hassle doing some form of exercising together. 

Well, exercising was a strong word for it. It was yoga.

Aizawa was fairly certain, that right now, he was watching what may have been the angriest person he had ever met and someone who was on very loose terms with death, doing yoga out in the garden. 

At least they were doing it away from the sprouts that had only just become visible the day before. 

Aizawa drained the coffee cup in his hand and went inside to retrieve more. When he came back out of the house feeling slightly more awake, he was greeted with the same sight, but it appeared that Tenya and Izuku had also joined the madness. 

Tenya, who was the least stable, took a bit of a tumble. When the laughter reached his ears, Aizawa allowed himself a grin. At least they were having fun with their early morning madness. 

The yoga started to be a regular thing. Weirdly.

And it was mostly led by Bakugou. Eventually, the rest of the kids joined in. They took turns introducing new poses, and they cheered each other on as they learned. 

Aizawa couldn’t say how proud he was of them working together to learn a new thing. And if he noticed that Bakugou was an amazing teacher, well, he’d just have to give the kid more opportunities to discover that. 

Aizawa thought about joining the students for their early morning yoga sessions, but after some debate. Including the fact that he’d have to get up even earlier to partake, he left the kids to their fun. 

As the Scarecrow got more comfortable, he became more daring. He would sit outside the windows when Aizawa was teaching. Sometimes while the weather was nice, someone would open up the windows. So the scarecrow didn’t need to push himself up against the windows like a serial killer in a horror movie. 

The scarecrow listened intently, occasionally interrupting the class to ask questions. If asked, he often had his own grain of salt to add to the subject. He had a surprising depth of knowledge. One could say that his historical knowledge was almost fitting. He knew a great deal about how people traveled at the time and what brought people the country when he was younger, along with why the various previous owners had come. The chemical knowledge was surprising, but when they discussed the health hazards of mixing things like bleach and cleaner and also the pH of soil and what things different plants needed, it made a little more sense. Scarecrow was surprisingly adept at first aid too. He helped the kids with learning what would need more help than they could provide. He also had a vast knowledge of animal health and how to correctly treat common aliments and injuries. Certainly some of the knowledge could apply either way, but the Scarecrow was knowledgeable enough to help Aizawa teach.

The scarecrow’s knowledge on the care and habits of various animals was also nearly unparalleled. At least, according to Tenya it was. The serious young man was apparently quite the horse fanatic, he just didn’t share that often. 

Tenya had been working on a paper about horses since the beginning of the quarter. From the early copy that Scarecrow had shown Aizawa, the boy was actually writing up something like a complete, doctoral thesis on why the farm needed a horse or two. Which even in the early stages was, unfortunately, very convincing. 

Scarecrow shares that he and Tenya had been discussing horse care. The troubling matter of it was really that Tenya's work on his “Please can we get one” essay paper was nearly perfect, and even in the rough drafts Aizawa was having a hard time building an argument against it. 

The scarecrow wasn’t any help; he thought that horses were a great addition to the farm.

Aizawa's currently plan was to say he was allergic or to put off sourcing one as long as he could. He wasn’t against the idea of having horses on the farm, he just wanted to wait before making that investment.

As everyone’s pet project gardens got bigger, Aizawa came up with the idea of a small farmer’s market. There was already talk of one in town, and if the students were interested, it could be fun competition that they could all engage in with no real downsides. 

Everyone had chosen a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, and flowers for their garden plots. That meant there was a lot to choose from, and even for them to make plans and theories out of the different numbers. 

Aizawa knew the students need to make a certain amount of money from their gardens, at least enough to cover the cost of the seeds and the time and energy spent while the plants were growing. It was all common sense. 

Aizawa had taken to grading outside as the weather got steadily warmer. It wasn’t quite the warm summer temperatures that he loved and loathed, but it was nice to sit outside at night and work on the paperwork. It may have limited the amount of attention he was actually paying to the students who may or may not be sneaking out of the house, but if he did it then, he would have a little more time later to enjoy the evening.

Maybe he’d even have time to call Midnight or Hizashi. He enjoyed talking with his friends but hadn’t had the time recently.

Not that they’d know anything about what was keeping him busy. 

They weren’t too worried about Aizawa not calling. They were used to his antisocial behaviors, which included not reaching out for months on end. It was also getting closer to exam time. So there was less reaching out from everyone, anyway. 

Aizawa had two piles beside him on the porch as he worked, the finished paperwork and the unfinished. He focused on the paper in his lap. It was Bakugou's and unfortunately basically A material. But Aizawa was still searching for the occasional error. 

The massive hand that snuck into his peripheral had Aizawa nearly leaping from the deck. He recognized the hand as belonging to the scarecrow who was apparently trying to kill Aizawa by scaring him to death. 

Scarecrow signs “sorry” off-handedly as he settles on the stairs near Aizawa. Aizawa's chair was, of course, nowhere near where he had been sitting, and was now halfway across the porch. 

With a grumble the man went to retrieve his chair and right it. He set it down hard in an attempt to get the scarecrow back. But the Scarecrow didn’t notice, which made him feel a little bad for trying. But he was still irritated at the sudden shock. 

He ignored the scarecrow for the time being. Better to not even acknowledge it. 

It worked for a moment until a hand was once again reaching into his line of sight. He was aware of the being next to him and barely avoided jumping again. 

The Scarecrow was sitting off to the side, still focused on the already graded papers he had scared Aizawa for earlier. 

Mina-Momo-Tenya-Uraraka-all-did-well. the scarecrow signed to Aizawa, and Aizawa smiled at the careful signs. 

His smile was gone long before the scarecrow looked, or handed back the papers. But Aizawa knew that it had been there.

It was a worrying promise.

Chapter Text

There were a few benefits to letting the kids cook all the meals. The teens were getting better at cooking as a group and they had a fairly wide variety of foods that they wanted to try. They were good about making sure that they didn’t accidentally poison their friends too. Well, mostly. Bakugou still went overboard on spices, but it was always good. 

There were, of course, downsides to the kids cooking all the meals. When they messed up, it could mean that everyone was having cereal. Sometimes food was completely undercooked or overcooked. Sometimes they really messed up. Like Denki putting cinnamon into the chili and then putting in a lot more paprika to try to cover it up. Or when Momo accidentally gave everyone food poisoning when she didn’t check if the meat was off. Or Tenya forgetting to wash the potatoes.

And sometimes when the kids felt adventurous, they wanted to make recipes with ingredients that Aizawa couldn’t always find in the small town. 

Which led to this. Aizawa being forced to pace up and down the isles looking for any sign of the next item on his list. 

“Mirin, mirin, mirin... Where the hell would that be in this store?” He didn’t worry too much about people talking. He’s ignored people talking about him before and will continue to do so. Right now his biggest problem was feeding everyone because they were all bottomless pits who greatly enjoyed making weird foods with weirder ingredients. 

After scouring the store, he’d found the section that he was looking for. He strolled past two older women who were having an in-depth conversation to look at the sauces. 

Someone had written Mirin on the list, but someone else had clarified two bottles, but there wasn’t any amount specified other than two bottles. 

“Two bottles... but which bottles? Are the big ones twice the size of the smaller ones? Should I just grab one of the bigger ones?” He mentally sighed as he thought that he didn’t use to talk to himself this much. 

He noticed the woman next to him when she cleared her throat. Focused on the bottles in his hand, he just shuffled over, thinking that the woman wanted to look at the section he was standing in front of.

He wasn’t sure he needed to grab, but he told himself anyway, “I’ll grab two of the bigger bottles and let them figure it out later. I really need to talk to them about giving more details later.” 

Aizawa makes a note on the list to make sure the kids include details when the woman clears her throat again. Aizawa huffed and started walking away to get further out of the way when the woman actually spoke to him.

“Excuse me?” She said in the snobbiest voice that Aizawa ever heard.

“I don’t work here ma’am.” He said, still moving when the woman continued.

“No, of course not. I’ve lived in this town for close to 40 years and I know just about everyone in it. But you’ve been here for how long and you never leave that cursed farm.” 

Aizawa mentally groaned, wanting to get the shopping over with so he could make sure that the kids haven’t set the farm on fire. He hadn’t left to discuss whether or not the farm was cursed with a random woman. “The farm isn’t cursed and I’m single-handedly running a farm and teaching a class without assistance. I don’t have time to come into town and gossip, I only barely have time to come into town to pick up the groceries.” 

“Well, then!” The incredibly snobby woman said with what sounded like fake affront, “Tell me this oh-so-busy man, if the farm isn’t cursed what’s been scaring off every other person who’s tried to fix it up in the last 40 years?” 

Aizawa was glad that the woman hadn’t been any closer, she probably would have poked him with a talon that she thought were nails. 

“Probably the threat of hard work and being accosted nearly every time they come into town by busybodies who don’t know when to stop. If you and the rest of this town have pulled this routine with every other person who’s bought my house.” Aizawa stopped, taking a moment to stop the anger that was creeping into his voice. “They probably got scared by harmless things in the dark and made themselves believe there was something haunting the place when there was nothing.” 

“Well, I-“ The snobby woman started, but Aizawa cut her off. 

“Look lady, unless you’re about to tell me where I can find Sesame oil and water chestnuts, I’m finished with this conversation that I think I’ve had with close to a dozen people now.” He walks away when the woman verbally pounced again.

“Well, what do you have to say about the murders that happened there?” She asked him in her incredibly snotty, tone. 

“What murders?” Aizawa snorted. There hadn’t been any murders disclosed to him.

“The murders that happened on the property?” the woman said in a faux innocent way. “Oh, did no one tell you about them? Well, I suppose that makes sense. No one talks much about it these days. But when I first came here, all anyone could talk about was the murders. The old woman who ran the house had a taste for blood. Killed a farmhand every year and no one ever stopped her.”

“And yet there were always more farmhands?” Aizawa wished he wouldn’t let himself get dragged into these kinds of discussions, but he’s done. “Look, lady, if you’re going to make up stories about my property, at least make them believable.”

“Well, the farmhands’ disappearances might be unbelievable, but the old woman’s disappearance is anything but.” She side-eyed him, and Aizawa didn’t want to admit that he was curious. “The story goes that her husband got sick of her scaring away and killing all the farmhands, so he killed her himself. Then he sold the farm to get away from where he left her body." 

“Or she got sick and died and her husband sold the farm because he was too old to keep it up himself. It happens.” Aizawa wouldn’t take the bait, he wouldn’t. He walked away from the woman, and tried not to hear as she called out behind him.

“If you find bones on your farm, don’t bother calling the police, they’ve probably been there for years. Or maybe it’s the old woman haunting your farm, bidding her time to kill one of your farmhands. After all, she was a witch.” The woman cackled, a deranged witch laugh following him. He walked to the checkout, trying to determine if the woman’s words were anything worth worrying about. 

Aizawa wondered, what was up with people in this town?

He had been assaulted by multiple people every time he came into town, and that woman was threatening his students. 

With a clearer head, Aizawa loaded his truck. He knows that woman probably wasn’t threatening his students, but it sure felt like it. 

With the scarecrow becoming more of a night watcher than Aizawa, he’d admittedly gotten lax about the kids’ curfew. He knew that the scarecrow was enough to keep other people off the farm, but how bad would it be if someone tried to break in? 

He thought about reinstating curfew with the way the crazy people were talking. Instead of turning the truck towards home, Aizawa took the road leading to a larger town. It meant that he would be gone a longer. But he could finish the shopping in peace and figure out his plan.

Chapter Text

The master list of chores and things that needed was in Aizawa’s notebook. The next best thing to the master list was the official chore list that he had hung in the barn for easy access. He knew that they took pictures on their phones and messaged each other with who had what jobs, but he liked the placement. 

Aizawa looked at the chore list and tried to figure out what didn’t need to be done soon, but would be better sooner rather than later. 

Looking over the list, he marked off jobs in his notebook as they were crossed out on the board and looked over who had what jobs currently.

“Fences are being dealt with, just need to make sure they’re doing that right later.” He muttered. Denki, Izuku, and Tenya were working on that. Not that he didn’t trust the boys to get the job done, he was just concerned about how well it would be done. 

He notes that all the morning and noontime chores regarding the animals are done, Aizawa had checked, all the animals were doing well. He should probably add giving them a more in-depth checkout to his list. Hell, he should add getting a hold of a vet to his list.

The scarecrow was currently helping the students repaint the barn. Someone needed to clean out the loft of the barn soon, but Aizawa wasn’t going to take on that task. 

He hadn’t really thought to add things that needed to be done at the farmhouse to the overall list of chores, though they still needed to be done.

He’d tackle the attic in the house. Though he’d thought it was something could avoid dealing with, but everything else on the list was being taken care of. The teens and the scarecrow were working through all the repairs and at breakneck speed. 

Aizawa was glad to have such a great and hardworking group of teens the first year, it made getting everything ready so much easier than he had planned for. 

The attic, then. It needed clearing out, and it wouldn’t take long. Then Aizawa could store his extra stuff up there. If he ever needed to. 

Mind made up, Aizawa left to check on the teens before starting his self-chosen task. 

Momo and Mina were helping the Scarecrow paint the barn. The girls were painting their own sections of the walls while the Scarecrow got as much as he could, reaching far higher than the girls. Aizawa couldn’t hear what was being said, but the girls were having fun with it.

He watched the three for a moment. The two girls were mostly talking unless asked to move. 

With a shake of his head, Aizawa started back to the house, he was surprised at how well the kids listen to the scarecrow. Maybe it’s the steady diet of horror and the absurd that’s dulled their wariness of the weird.

Aizawa probably watched more than his fair share of horror movies over the course of his life. Nemuri was a huge fan and Hizashi was hilariously not. Aizawa loved his friend dearly, but nothing was funnier as a teen than tricking Hizashi into watching horror movies. 

It made more sense now that he did a weekend podcast; he had massive lungs that were great for talking nonstop for hours or for screaming for long minutes. Aizawa enjoyed movies that were mostly jump scares for this reason. With very little effort on his or Nemuri's part they could get their friend fired up and screaming like a banshee in nothing flat.

Aizawa laughed a little to himself, remembering the last time the three had a movie night. He should invite them over for spring break or something, get them away from the city for a time and keep him from being alone with the scarecrow. 

But then he’d have to explain.

Aizawa loved his friends, he really, really did, but they wouldn’t react half as well. 

The attic door was a little wider than Aizawa's shoulders and more than big enough to move boxes though. Unfortunely, it sounded like a small animal getting caught in a door when it opened. After noting to oil the hinge later, Aizawa made his way up into the very attic. 

There was dust everywhere in the room, like a thick quilt. Aizawa thought about bringing a vacuum up there to deal with all the dust. 

The room was nearly full of neatly stacked boxes, crates, and steamer trunks. At some point someone had carefully organized everything in there, it was easy to walk around but he could tell that everything hadn’t been touched in years. 

There had to be dozens of boxes left in the attic, though the immaculate rows between the piles made it easy to get all the way around the attic. 

He thought about adding it his to the chore list, getting some of the kids help get through all the boxes. Brushing aside the dust on some boxes, he could see that a few of the cardboard boxes had names or rooms on them, but most were blank. 

But then again, he’d just get it done faster and really have nothing to do. One of the cardboard boxes was folded closed. He cracked it open, not surprisingly it was full of clothes. 

“God, am I going to have to pick up a real hobby one of these days? The horror.” Aizawa muttered. He’d gotten through thirty years of life without obtaining any real hobby, now it was just spite keeping him from getting one. 

If he moved all the boxes downstairs first, he wouldn’t have to worry about working in the cramped space that he found himself in. On the other hand, he could probably save himself a few trips up and down the stairs if he just worked on everything in the attic. 

He’d move everything downstairs first, better than having to go up and down the rickety hide-away stairs until he’d finished this project. It would be motivating to have to look at them. 

Aizawa was going to need the students help to get everything downstairs, there was no way he’d be able to safely do it. 

The next big question was, where was he going to put them? There was a house full of places, but where could he place them that wouldn’t be too weird, but was still somewhere that he would see them and actually go through them as needed?

The office upstairs, he'd go through them there. As long as they were placed carefully, he'd still be able to grade homework in there as well without a problem. He could probably get a few of the lighter ones down without issue. Then he wouldn’t even need any of the teens’ help to get started.

He started with the lightest boxes closest to the door, the ones that were probably full of clothes that had been left behind. He dropped a few of them through the ceiling door before admitting he’d need to actually place a few of them in order to escape the attic. But with some maneuvering, he could make piles for the heavier boxes that needed to come down. 

He had made many piles of boxes when he stopped to question what he was doing. And a few other things, like, how are there so many boxes in this attic?

Stopping halfway up, Aizawa paused to look at all the boxes that were still in the attic. The ones he had already gotten out were piled around him, he could probably put one or two more boxes on top of the boxes that were already down before he had to move the other boxes so he can actually use most of his hallway later. 

Rolling his shoulders, Aizawa dragged himself up into the attic for what would be the last time that day. 

Aizawa was glaring at the boxes still in the attic. There were still dozens of boxes to get downstairs, he’d have to move the rest tomorrow. He couldn’t do it today. But he might not have the strength to do it tomorrow with how his back was already aching.

There was still a mix of boxes in the attic, each looking older than the last. He was fairly certain it was too late to get the teens involved, if only for pride’s sake. He had to decide. 

Would he try to finish today and deal with the very real chance he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed the next day or did he wait for another day and possibly never finish the task? 

The boxes seemed to grow in the shadows as Aizawa figured out what he was going to do. The sun was setting, which meant that it was almost time for dinner. 

His phone said that he some time before he needed to head over to the bunkhouse. He could only do so much before heading over. 

He didn’t have time to move any more before dinner, but he could root through a couple.

He looked around at the boxes. There was promise in all of them. Well, there was the potential for something maybe not boring in all of them, whether or not it was actual promise was questionable. 

The oldest-looking one first? Which would that be? Aizawa moved some boxes around until he uncovered an ancient and dust laden steamer trunk. He couldn’t tell exactly how old it was, or even what color it was under all the dust. 

Aizawa wiped the worst of it off, thinking that was was a nice steamer trunk. He was surprised anyone would leave it intentionally.

The hinged clasp on the front of the trunk looked to be in good shape. There wasn’t any sign of previous tampering or even rust once the dust was gone. 

Is it- oh! 

A gentle tug on the lid of the trunk opened the box with more ease than Aizawa was expecting, it also revealed that it wasn’t locked. Which was also surprising. Guess he didn’t have to break out the lock picks.

There were a bunch of really old photo albums in the trunk, each carefully placed spine up and all undamaged. 

Aizawa sneezed viciously.

His nose cleared and with a promise to himself to wear a mask next time he was up here, he pulled an album from the middle of the trunk. Flipping of the pages revealed all of them were full of old pictures, probably from around the turn of the last century. Most of the pictures had a small scribbling of commentary on the page. A few had people scribbled out, and the surrounding names scribbled out as well. 

Apparently whoever had made this album was the vindictive sort. 

But that made it even stranger that they would leave all the photos behind. It’s a lot of pictures. If someone was really vindictive enough to scribble out what really looks like every ninth person, then why would they leave it behind? 

Aizawa looked away from scribbled-out individuals, focusing on the individuals who weren’t scribbled out. They look like young men of all different types. As far as Aizawa could tell, there was no single trait identifiable from pictures, that would cause the one person to be scribbled out. 

Aizawa appreciated there were lots of pictures of ever-changing groups of people too. It crossed his mind that these could be a good teaching aides later. 

But as he looked through the albums, each older than the last, Aizawa thought that there’s probably someone out there who would appreciate having these. They’d been abandoned here, and if Aizawa were ever offered the chance to see photos of his family from a century or more ago, he would take it in a heartbeat. Especially if it was like these, with names if not numbers. with little personal notes about taking various people on the farm. A bit of life captured, frozen.

Would it even be possible to track down the original owners? Aizawa thought as he went back down the stairs. If these were over a century old, then it would be really hard to track down the original owners. If there were even paperwork for who had owned the farm then. Would he be able to use any kind of records to track down the descendants of the original owners, or were they lost to time?

He set a few of the albums on the desk in his office, flipping through one again. In almost all of them the people look happy, it looks like the farm was booming nearly year-round. There were always over half a dozen smiling people in the group photos.

Aizawa smiled as he thought that these must be from when the farm was really going. 

If nothing else, at least he knew the name of the couple that owned the farm originally. Alianna “Nana” Torino, Gran Torino, and an ever changing assortment of farmhands. He probably wouldn’t be able to find most of the farmhands, or their descendants, but he could start looking for Nana and Gran’s descendants.

He flipped through a few of the other albums, stopping when a frenzied attempted scribbling caught his eye. Whoever this was had obviously been hated by whoever the scrapbooker was. The person was completely scribbled out, their name has been scribbled so hard the pen used had gone through the paper it was on. The picture was all but torn in two from the strength of the scribbles, and whoever the person had been in the scribbled-out section had been nearly completely removed. All Aizawa could barely identify one of the man’s eyes.

What he did to be so forcefully removed from the history of this place like that. Aizawa wondered, pondering what the man could have done to make it so the scrapbooker wanted nothing to do with him, make them remove him so forcefully from their own history. 

As Aizawa thought, flipping through the albums, it occurred to him. These were not his albums to go through. He should have just left them upstairs. The next step should be finding whoever the descendants of Gran and Nana were, so they could go through these old albums. So they can make the choices about the albums instead of him.

Whoever their descendants were, if he could find them, would probably be ecstatic to have a piece of their own history available to them. Who was he to prevent them from that?

Closing the book with a sigh, Aizawa pushed the album into the corner of his desk. This was a problem for Future Aizawa. 

Tonight, his job was to go check on Bakugou to make sure that the boy hadn’t poisoned them all with spice. Or at least there was enough milk that everyone would survive.

Chapter Text

Aizawa rolled his shoulders again as he walked down the stairs inside the farmhouse. His back was a slowly tightening spring, his range of movement was getting smaller with each breath. He wasn’t going to move the rest of the boxes today. Hell, he probably wasn’t going to move them for the rest of the week. He really was going to have to drag the kids into it. 

Making a detour into the bathroom, Aizawa rooted around until he found some pain pills. It wouldn’t really do much for his ever tightening muscles, but it might help stave off the pain that was coming. 

Even though Aizawa wanted to make sure are all the albums and similar items got to their owners, it could be worth it to go through the boxes to see if there was anything worth selling, or even donating to a local museum. 

Guilt lingered in his mind at the thought. All the boxes belonged to someone, but they left them here. But then again, since they were left here that made them abandoned property which meant that he shouldn’t feel bad about going through them. Or donating the stuff.

Why should he feel guilty when he had been here for months and hadn’t heard from any of the previous owners? If any of them really wanted anything they had left behind they could have contacted him long before now, or contacted the real estate office.

Aizawa spared a thought that since it was Bakugou's turn to cook, there wasn’t going to be enough milk for everyone. 

Bakugou had come far since he in his time on the farm. Bakugou made sure there were no allergens or meat in the food that he served to Mina and Denki, but it wasn’t necessarily safe for everyone. Even though there had been hundreds of reminders from all the students and from Aizawa himself, Bakugou quite know when to give up the spice.

Aizawa normally loved spicy foods, but nowhere near the level of spice that Bakugou seems to think was normal. With a brief thought that it might be evil, he wondered if it was abusing his power if he made a student give up their milk.

Sincerely thinking about it from the farmhouse to the bunkhouse. Eventually Aizawa realized that, yeah would be, and that it would also be a dick move. 

Aizawa turned his mind back to the boxes in the attic, and to the Scarecrow that lived on the farm. The Scarecrow said that he had been here for a fairly long time. It was possible that he might know who some of the boxes belong to, if he really had been here as long as he implied.

It was unlikely. The boxes were old, and the Scarecrow was old, but there was nothing that suggested the Scarecrow might know what was in the boxes or who the boxes belonged to.

It was a long shot, but one that Aizawa felt he should take. At worst, the Scarecrow knew nothing, and Aizawa wasted some of his time. But it’s not like he was in the speed crunch, anyway. This was just one of the many things that he was trying to do to get the farm into shape again. He could do something with the attic. But for now he wanted to get everything out and into the light.

So he could see if it was trash or if it was something else, or even that he could use. If anything in the boxes looks important, or had the name so he can find the people that he wanted to track down, he would do his best to find them and return what he could.

But that still left him with the question: Did he ask the Scarecrow?

Mulling over it, Aizawa tried to prevent dinner from being as spicy as Bakugou wanted it. By the time that he’d pried the cayenne pepper out of Bakugou's hands, he had come to his decision.

The Scarecrow had told him that most people ran once they found out that it was alive. The chances Scarecrow knew who any of the people were, or was able to reliably connect any object to the person who had owned it were small.

He wouldn’t be able to tell Aizawa where they went. And then there was the realtor, who had been a mess. If the realtor was any sign, then Aizawa doubted they’d want anything to do with what they left behind. 

Aizawa sent Bakugou off to ring the dinner bell when the food was done and poured himself a glass of milk before the kids could beat him to it.

They anxiously piled in, each sparing a glance for the pot on the stove before taking their seats at the table. The table was already served, which made everyone finding their spots easier and saved Aizawa time getting everything ready when he was already sore and tired. From there everyone got exactly one glass of milk. 

Aizawa knew wasn’t going to be enough, and from the looks on the students’ faces, they knew it as well.

The kids were starving though, and so was Aizawa. 

Once everyone was seated and served, Aizawa stood to make the usual dinner announcement.

“Alright, everyone! Thank Bakugou for making us this meal that will probably be too spicy to eat.” He paused long enough to hear the students say their thanks, “And take a moment to be thankful for the rain and soil that made this food in front of us possible.”

He bowed his head along with the rest of the students for a long moment before grunting and telling them to tuck in.

Three bites in and Aizawa's face was burning, he’d need to hide the spices next time it was Bakugou was turn to cook.

He was rethinking his stance on forcing one kid to give up their milk, rationing his own. He looked around the table to see how everyone was doing. Bakugou was diving right in. 

On the other side of Bakugou was Kirishima, whose face had gone bright red, though he didn’t seem to go for his milk. On the funny side of where he was still suffering, he didn’t know that Kirishima could get that red.

Aizawa avoided laughing at Kirishima. The poor boy was trying so hard to like Bakugou's cooking. Even though as a seasoned spicy food eater, Aizawa knew that this was probably way too much spice for anyone. Let alone Kirishima, who apparently never ate anything terribly spicy in his life. There had to be a reason the blue-headed boy was eating which gusto even though it obviously hurt him, and for a second Aizawa wondered if it was a crush that the poor boy was trying so hard. 

Didn’t want to get too far down that rabbit hole. 

It wasn’t something that he wanted to concern himself with. 

Aizawa cast his gaze to the rest of the table pausing at Izuku, who was plowing through the food like he couldn’t taste the spice. But if he was used to this level of spice, he probably couldn’t. 

The other teens were a study in suffering. Iida appeared to be holding it together mostly, though his glasses were fogging up and he was flushing. Denki was on the other end of the spectrum, still eating with gusto, tears were slowly rolling over his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Aizawa turned his thoughts inward again. Thinking about all of the albums and all of the photos. How he’d only actually opened two of them. But there were so many pictures in that one box. 

He’d want to know more about what his family left behind on a creepy farm in the middle of nowhere. 

Even if the family members in question hadn’t been on the farm in decades, finding some old pictures could probably tell people a lot about their family. Except for the people who were completely scribbled out. Aizawa tried to figure out what he could do. The sooner he was done with this part of the project, the sooner he was done with it completely. So he would have to go through everything, all the boxes, to find out how much stuff might be returned to its owners or the former owner’s relatives.

 Maybe he could turn this into a class project, have the students learn how to find details and find people based on minimal information. It could be fun, just handing each of the students a box, once Aizawa had already checked them out, and telling them to hunt down the people who are mentioned in the box or living relatives, returning whatever they had found or whatever the former owners had left behind. 

It could be a fun game. 

Then again Denki, Mina, or Bakugou could easily give an old person a heart attack.

So probably a bad idea. 

Really the kids weren’t that bad, but they were pretty bad. And the risk was high. Even if the kids didn’t mean to, it would still be so bad. 

Aizawa could almost see it now. Mina on the phone telling whoever she had found that she had their box, and they had to come pick it up right now. Even if there’s no reason for them to come pick it up at all. Too forceful and excited because she wanted to meet them. Only to scare some old person who never wanted to come back at all.

It was a recipe for disaster.

But… It would be a good project for tracking people down with minimal information. 

That can be a project for later, when less things need repairs. 

Aizawa zoned back in due to bread being thrown, “Hey! No food fights at the table!” 

The rest of the dinner was spent in tears, red faces, and laughter. They had ice cream to help quell their burning tongues.

Aizawa realized that he hadn’t seen the Scarecrow in the last few hours. He told himself that the Scarecrow had other places to lurk on the farm. 

Over the ice cream, Aizawa remembered something that the Scarecrow had said previously. 

The person who killed him was the wife of one of the farm owners.

He hadn’t provided any more detail. It must have happened a while ago. But how long was another question entirely.

The students had gotten close to the Scarecrow in  the last few weeks, but Aizawa found that he still was anxious about letting it around his students at all. 

Whatever, or whoever, it was didn’t seem scared of him anymore. 

That wasn’t true. The Scarecrow still, worried, about being around him, for lack of a better term. It still wouldn’t get within arm’s reach of him, though it was constantly near the children given the chance. Aizawa spared a thought that maybe since the guns and threats didn’t work, he could find something in one of those boxes that would work.

Shaking his head, Aizawa knew that way was a very short path to being a cartoon villain. 

There was also the fact if anything here had to do with ritual sacrifice, he really didn’t want to dip his toes in it. 

He stood, saying, “Hey, Momo, Uraraka, you’re on clean-up. Make sure everything fits in the fridge or freezer.” 

“Yes, sir!” the taller was quick to jump up. 

“On it!” Uraraka was still finishing up her ice cream, but now with vigor. 

Aizawa groaned as he stretched before he left the table.

As he left the bunkhouse he knew he needed to finish moving the boxes before bed at least. 

Otherwise, he just wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

Aizawa woke up the next morning to the vibration of his phone under his pillow. Allowing himself a couple minutes of quiet groaning, he thought about just staying in bed, before searching for the phone to turn it off.

He’d moved the rest of the boxes downstairs the evening before. For a moment he thought he had escaped the downsides of moving all the boxes by himself. 

Groaning more while dragging himself out of his bed, Aizawa checked the time, finding that it was still early and he didn’t need to be up. Instead of doing anything useful for the morning, Aizawa laid back down, glad that he had gotten a nicer bed.

He laid in the bed until his second alarm went off, reminding him he actually needed to get out of the bed. Wincing Aizawa he pulled himself out of the bed, his muscles had tightened over the night, leaving him extremely stiff and uncomfortable. 

As he pulled himself into a light stretch, Aizawa heard his back crunch like a rice crispy treat and mentally added that he needed Tylenol as well. 

As soon as he was certain that he hadn’t accidentally broken his own back, Aizawa dragged himself into clothes, then out to the hallway–which was filled with boxes- to his office -which was also filled with boxes- and then downstairs to the kitchen -which was mercifully free of boxes- to get coffee. 

Aizawa creaked and groaned his way down the stairs. There was no way he was going to teach today. There was no chance that he was going to make it back up the stairs.

He stopped to drink his coffee at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at all the. Most of them had typical moving markings: kitchen, bedroom, living room, and more.

Aizawa still worried about whether or not he should even go through the boxes. He was invading someone’s privacy, even though they were left behind. But if the Scarecrow was right about how scared they were, they might have left them accidentally.

Photo albums were never things people intended to leave.

Really, if Aizawa hadn’t been expecting the kids the next day, he might have left too. Wouldn’t have even taken the time to toss the sleeping bag into his truck.

He was concerned about how people would react if he tried to contact them. Would they be angry? Would they want nothing to do with it? Would they even want to remember that part of their life?

Aizawa shook his head as he stepped outside. Why was he so worried about the boxes? If people wanted what was in them, they wouldn’t still be here.

But, if they thought there was a demon here, they probably wouldn’t come back to the farm at all. He would still reach out, see if any of them were interested, he could mail it to them or if they lived close by maybe drive it out to them. Talk to them. See what they saw, hear what they went through.

Right now he needed to focus on fixing the farm, on making sure the students were safe and happy and healthy. He was going to go through the boxes, soon enough.

But there was another reason he needed to go through them, to find a way to get rid of the scarecrow. 

Aizawa leaned down to put his coffee cup on the windowsill. A loud series of pops from his joints reminded him, again, of everything he’d done the day before. 

With an intentional stretch of his neck and another groan, Aizawa muttered, “That’s it, I’m definitely canceling classes today...”

----------

Aizawa didn’t leave his house that day. When the students noticed, they came to check on him. 

He gave each one a lecture on why it’s important to listen to your body’s limits and then requests something of them. Helping him upstairs, breakfast, coffee, a box, etc. 

The box was carefully set on the bed within arm’s reach by Tenya, who was strong enough to pick up the box with ease but also too much of a teacher’s pet to consider telling Aizawa what to do. Though his eyes firmly said that he thought it would better spend the day resting, not going through boxes. 

Aizawa opted to ignore the look and shooed him away.

It took some time, but Aizawa finally shooed Tenya from the room by confirming that, no, he really didn’t need water, more painkillers, coffee, food, a nap, someone to fluff his pillow, get out of the room Kid!

The box that Tenya brought him was mostly full of loose photos and a few photo albums. 

Deciding to start with the albums, Aizawa grabbed the top one off the pile, brushing a few loose pictures off of it. A young couple, a pretty dark-haired woman and a blond man in their early 20s stood in front of an old house on the first page, the picture looks like it was taken with an old Kodiak, but the clothing of the couple looked like the 90s. There was no date in the description under that first photo, just a small passage:

Mika and Trevor’s first ever fixer-upper! 

For our first anniversary Trevor told me his dream was to buy, fix and flip houses, and I love my husband and I love fixing things myself, so of course, I agreed! We got this old place for a fraction of the cost, and we’re going to make memories here fixing it up! 

The next pages didn’t have any info to indicate the dates. Most of the pictures were of one or the other of the couple pretty much completely covered in dust, dirt, or paint as they slowly rebuilt the house into something admittedly beautiful. At the end of the book were photos of each room of the house before and after. 

There’s a list of all the refurbishments they did, each in alternating handwriting and a few look tacked on after the fact before being marked off. But Aizawa had to admit to himself that they did a good job with that house, at the bottom of the last page, was an address and a couple of dates. 

The house in the first album took a little under two years to complete. That was also a little over two decades ago. 

These two, who probably also tried to fix up this place at some point, were probably still alive and around a decade older than Aizawa. 

Writing a note to himself to see if he could get a hold of these people later, Aizawa snagged the next album out of the box. 

The same couple, a hair older, their hair longer, both obviously in love with each other and the next fixer-upper they had found. 

More pictures of the couple while fixing up the house. Near the middle of the album was a picture of the couple along with a group of similarly aged people. 

They were eating takeout while sitting and laying on the floor. The caption for that one said it was very much so a surprise visit, or they would have at least bought cushions for their guests. 

A few of the friends appeared in other pictures in the album, Aizawa didn’t bother putting names to faces, just looking for dates, but again, none showed up till the last page. Right around two years again.

The next album was more of the same, excited picture out front of the new house, pictures of them fixing up the house, and comparative pictures, the address and the dates, and a list of what they did to fix it. 

While it more or less gave a firm timeline of the time the couple spent in each house, Aizawa thought of just flipping to the end of each of album to find out how long they took and where they might have headed next. 

The next had a bit of a surprise. 

The woman, Mika, was pregnant in the next album, and it was easier to see the timeline in this house with the growing of her belly. There’s a pause in the middle of this album to show the small family in the hospital. The little girl’s ID band was taped in the middle, along with a lock of her hair a little further in. They still worked on the house, but it took longer with a little one in the house to take care of. 

The dates at the back of the book confirmed it. They spent closer to four years at that house. 

There were four more albums, and Aizawa found himself softly smiling as he watched the little girl grow up and become more of a help as time went by. 

Jirou was what the album said her name was, and Aizawa thought it fit the little girl who seemed to always be lending a hand. 

She was eleven or so at the end of the last album, and Aizawa spared a thought to the fact that she was about the same age as his current students. 

He pulled out the loose pictures before putting the albums back. 

He shuffled through the pictures and easily identified which photo would have been the first in the next album. The small family smiled brightly at the camera from the front of a slightly more dilapidated version of the house. His house.

There were pictures of the various rooms, probably completely out of order at this point, but they were more or less recognisable to how he found it. The kitchen looked like it’d been completely redone, but in a more rustic style than it began. The bathrooms modernized, but he couldn’t complain.

There're pictures of the work. Well, there're pictures of the family as they grew more tired and skittish. There were dates on the back of the photos, but they pointed at the small family only being in the house for six months.

There weren’t notes about anything outside of the house, they’re progress updates with rough estimations on how long it would take to finish various parts of the house. Some of the photos looked exactly the same as how Aizawa found the house, but are quite obviously “before” pictures.

There was no exit photo, there weren’t any comparisons for the rooms. It looked like they left one day and forgot to bring probably cherished photo albums with them. 

For a moment he’s a little angry, even though he knew it wasn’t the scarecrow’s fault that they all left, he still wanted to be angry.

These people, were scared enough that they just left their house and what appeared to be their treasured memories behind. These poor people had to have been scared out of their minds, and Aizawa could tell just by looking at the photos that they were suffering. 

What did the Scarecrow do that made them so willing to leave so fast?

Aizawa wished he knew more,  about all of it. Really, about these people’s past, about the scarecrow’s past, about any of the people who were here before. 

He put everything back in the box, then marked it so he knew he could and should find the owner. 

Slowly rising from the bed again, Aizawa put the box in his room against the wall. He grabbed another one from the hallway, and dragged it back into his room. Aizawa made a decision to sit on the floor, which he would almost certainly regret later, and dug through it rather than put it on his bed.

There was something rolling around in the box's bottom. When he finally cracked it open and he was surprised to find a few candles, half burnt, in the bottom. 

The box was one of the older ones, one that he expected was probably as old as the farm. He pulled out the candles and set them off to the side. They didn't really smell like anything, which Aizawa was grateful for. 

There were a few books too, which when Aizawa flipped though he thought might be spellbooks. 

The books were obviously old, but they seemed well taken care of. Inside, the books were written in some kind of ink that still smudged. Protection spells or some kind of worship or something else. Other than a brief wiccan phase in high school, Aizawa hadn't had any experience with witchcraft. He set the books aside, making a note to go through them later and maybe see if there was anything interesting inside, or if they were worth something.

If the books were as old as he thought they were, he’s fairly certain they’d be worth a pretty penny. But how did they end up in the attic of an old farm house. Although, that right there might explanation in and of itself.

Leaning back against his bed, Aizawa tried to figure out what to do next. It was still early, he could go through more boxes before the day was over. 

Right now he wasn’t completely certain that he could even get off of the floor.

Closing his eyes, Aizawa just let himself drift as he leaned against the bed. He was curious about the spell books and candles, but he wasn’t willing to search out the answer right now. 

Deciding that the floor wasn’t the best place, Aizawa groaned as he tried to lever himself up. His back refused to flex, and he wished that he had taken more pain meds before he sent Tenya away. 

Putting the candles back into the box, Aizawa regretted ever starting this in the first place.

Aizawa dragged another box into his bedroom, and started to go through it.

This box was less interesting on a historical note, but more interesting on a farmer/teacher note. Inside were ledgers, diaries, and some more pictures.

The ledgers appeared to be for the farm about a century ago, Aizawa skimmed through them, but wasn’t going to try to balance them. He set them aside to use as a teaching aide later. He didn’t have anything like that yet.

When he was done with the ledgers, he skimmed the diaries, the first dozen were completely filled front to back, he grabbed what he thought was the last one and it’s filled about halfway. While he read through the last couple of entries, there didn't seem to be illness or fear of anything on the farm. Aizawa read through the entries again, but there wasn’t any sign of why it was left behind. Or where the person may have gone to. Aizawa guessed that the diary and the ledgers were written by the same person based on the small, neat cursive that they were all written in.

Each of the diary entries were signed by Nana, so Aizawa concluded that they were written by Nana Wilson. He wondered what happened to the woman. Did she also leave the farm suddenly? Wondering if she’s the witch, if they had been run off the.

Or maybe Gran was the Scarecrow. While the woman barely mentioned her husband in the diaries, there’s a chance that if she was run off the farm, maybe Scarecrow was her husband.

Aizawa started digging though the box once more. Hypothesizing wouldn’t help anyone.

He wanted to know more.

Next, he pulled out the photos that had been stashed in the box as well. They weren’t as neat as the ones that were in the photo albums. It was obvious that a few of them were the same groups of people, although often they were missing a person or two. All the photos in this box had been taken in the spring, and often with a scarecrow in the background. 

Aizawa was pulled from the photos by the patter of rain against the window turning harder. The sound going from a sedate, staccato background to a harsh maelstrom of noise. Aizawa levered himself off the bed, focused on not disturbing his back too much to avoid paining the overworked muscles. 

He looked out into the darkness of the premature night. The clouds were too dark to see the sunset past them. The rain tapped hard against the window like stones,. He debated if he wanted to go out into that to make sure all the kids were indoors and where they were supposed to be. 

As if in response to that train of thought, the rain started coming down even harder. 

That was enough to settle the argument in Aizawa's head.

He sent a message to the class chat, putting Momo in charge of making sure everyone was inside and checking everything was locked before going to bed. The girl wasn’t the most assertive of the group, but she would make sure everything was done. 

Aizawa watched the weather for a while. 

Getting into bed was easier than getting out of it, even with Aizawa's care to not mess up the piles of photos. Despite his best efforts, though, the piles got a little spread around, and it brought something to view that Aizawa hadn’t noticed a moment before.

The scarecrows in the photos didn’t look the same as the Scarecrow that was outside. Aizawa had spent enough time examining the one that was here now. From its hat, to its burlap sack that made up its head, all the way down to the strange stain at its waist, to the incredibly worn boots and its feet. Aizawa knew what Scarecrow looked like, and the scarecrow in all these photos were different.

Aizawa flipped through the photos more carefully now, looking for anyone who may have shown up in early photos but was scribbled out in later ones. 

No one obvious, but Aizawa noticed another trend as he went through the albums. 

He could make a rough timeline with the photos, the years easier to identify as the owners’ aged and the groups slowly changed. 

In every group there was one man who started near the center of the group, only to visibly be pushed out until they were barely in the camera's lens. They would be gone after that point. 

Ther person would just disappear after.

But there was a new scarecrow in the photos.

Aizawa looked through the group photos. Some of them were dated, most of them weren’t. There had to be a hundred of them, probably more, at least half a dozen a year. 

Aizawa looked to the last dozen, one had a tall-tall-tall man near center, face scratched out. Scribbled out was probably the wrong term, it’s more like somebody tried to scratch the poor man’s face out of existence. The rest of his body was tangentially scathed, like the person hadn’t been trying to scratch out his body, just his face.

Despite the seriousness of the scratches, Aizawa could just make out some of the man, one of his eyes, and some of his hair. The Tall Man dominated the picture that he was in, he stood a good head over just about everyone else in the photo. His shoulders looked broad enough for two. 

In the first photo the man was in center of the group, he was just behind, but right between, the farmer and his wife. Between Gran and Nana.

In the next photo he’s closer to the edge, then outside the group in less than a year. The broad shoulders got thinner, more hunched. 

Aizawa examined these pictures more closely, searching for anything else that might explain what’s going on. Something caught his eye, he had to go back to the older photos to understand it. 

There weren’t any plants in the background, before the men disappeared.

There weren’t anymore pictures after the last one with the tall man as a separate entity from the smaller group. At least none that Aizawa could find as he emptied the box. 

Aizawa thought it was odd as he looked at this separation from the group a century ago.

Whatever had happened with the tall man happened just before the earliest owners left the farm or died. 

Aizawa flipped through the photos for a while longer, wondering what might have happened to these individuals. Wondering who they were, and what happened to them.

The others before the tall man didn’t appear in as many photos as he did, and Aizawa wondered if it might be something about the person in the photos or the person getting rid of the photos that might explain the lack of them. 

Aizawa had to drag himself from the photos to look at the next box. Once he put the photos away, he went to the next box. 

It was full of data. There were statements about employees, names had been scribbled out to be unreadable. Aizawa squinted and held up the paperwork to the light to see if he could discern what the name was. Yoshi? Maybe, Tori? 

Aizawa spent more time trying to figure out the person’s name than was probably needed. Whoever this was, they’d probably been dead for fifty years or more. 

Putting the books off to the side, Aizawa shook his head. No, the name was probably something else entirely, and it wouldn’t affect him now to know what this mystery person’s name was. 

The ledgers made most sense to look at next. He told himself that it was to see if these would be good teaching materials later on, but really he was curious about how the farm did back in the day. 

Aizawa flipped through ledgers, but he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. There’s occasionally something scribbled out of the ledgers.

Aizawa noticed a couple patterns, as he flipped through the pages. The first of which was a cycling drop in finances. 

It appeared that over the course of five years, exactly five years, the farm went through a cycle, first, high returns and immense profits the first year, then slightly less impressive, but still impressive profits and harvests the second year, a year that seems to be pretty average, then a bad year, followed by a worse year, which was -despite the cycles- never planned for. 

There was barely enough in the really bad years, but the farm survived around half a century of them before apparently falling to one. 

There were pay stubs for over a hundred employees over the years, most seemed to be underpaid, but then again Aizawa wasn’t sure what minimum wage was a hundred years ago. If there even was minimum wage back then.

Some of the pay stubs had names or numbers scribbled out, and while Aizawa wanted to know why, he was tired from the late hour. 

Aizawa's gaze flicks over the words and numbers and dates and wondered if any of them were scarecrows. He wondered if any of the names could be Scarecrow. 

Aizawa shook the thought from his head, and turned to the messier ledgers, the originals before the writer cleaned them up and wrote everything else down elsewhere.

There were billions of notes in these, scribbles off to the side that took Aizawa a moment to decipher. 

The odd symbols turned into lunar phases and when things needed to be planted, and harvested. As Aizawa discovered the symbols meaning, he saw that everything was scheduled around the phases of the moon. Planned not by days of the year, but by the lunar calendar. 

Aizawa had to admit that it was impressive.

There're some mentions of different dates that were important, though there’s not enough info for Aizawa to figure out what those dates meant, or why they’re circled. 

The dates meant nothing to Aizawa, who was decades if not distance from everything that happened in this place. 

Aizawa wondered what he was missing. 

Chapter Text

Aizawa spent the next few days trying not to antagonize his back. 

He failed. 

While Aizawa wasn’t bed bound, he found it hard to do anything but stand and lay down. He held the morning classes while standing stiffly. As much as he wanted to just lay down on the floor to conduct classes, he knew if he gave in to the desire he’d just end up sleeping down there. 

Instead he stood, in pain and shuffled the morning away. Tenya decided he knew better than the teacher -never mind that in this case at least it was entirely possible- and sent Aizawa off to bed after eating. 

At that moment he was in some amount of pain that was below agonizing, but still many miles above a simple backache. Had he the breath to do it, Aizawa would have cursed time for existing and forcing him to grow older. As it was, he was grumbling under his breath about it while he slowly crept to his bedroom. 

A few pain meds and a bathroom break on the way had Aizawa safely ensconced in his bed. The afternoon passed in the haze of someone who’s not comfortable enough to sleep but too tired to move. 

Izuku came by with dinner in the nebulas time between lunch and sunset. Aizawa reluctantly got up long enough to eat and to question if the other students were alive. 

After Izuku had confirmed that his fellow students were still alive, Aizawa tried to send the teen away, but Izuku had other plans. Once Aizawa had eaten at least half his plate of food Izuku pulled out a notebook and went down a checklist that sounded both Momo and Tenya both had a hand in writing. 

Inquires to his health, his pain levels, anything he might have needed if he were going to stay in bed for any extended amount of time. A question that sounded like Momo about if they should to call the backup teacher and if Aizawa was going to be able to teach the next day. 

Aizawa, despite being horizontal and Izuku get him pain medicine from his bathroom cabinet, convinced him that there was no need to call anyone. 

That while Aizawa's down for now, he would be fine the next day, or at least functional the next day. 

There wasn’t a lot of faith in Izuku's eyes, but he seemed to trust his teacher.

Before Izuku actually left, Aizawa had Izuku grab him one of the spellbooks from the steamer trunk and take the half eaten plate back with him. Aizawa knew he won’t want any more food, but with how much he had slept, the likelihood of waking sometime predawn and being unable to fall asleep was very high. 

Being the overachiever that he was, Izuku placed all the books in that trunk on Aizawa's nightstand. From there, though, he only lasted perhaps thirty seconds before Izuku was asking about them. Aizawa said that he found them in the attic. Sending the teen back to the rest of the students to presumably gossip about his state. 

When Aizawa woke again, the sky was pitch black. It’s so dark in the room that until he grabbed his phone Aizawa couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not.

His phone told him it was a little after two, and while Aizawa wasn’t exactly feeling a hundred percent, he knew that he’s not going to sleep more now. 

Aizawa turned on the lamp nearly hurting himself again, flinching from the sudden brightness of the light. 

He looked around the room that he called his own. 

There was laundry that needs to be done. There were some books, a few fantasies, a few cheesy noir detective, and a lot that are just about ‘how to’s that are laying in a pile in the corner, somehow although he’d been living here for months, he still hadn’t gotten around to putting up a bookshelf, or even buying one. 

His nightstand had an old water glass that’s long since empty, the lamp itself, and the short stack of books that Izuku had set there. 

Though it had been a while since his own witchy phase in high school, Aizawa was still curious about what the ancient spell books held. 

Aizawa's thought thought upon opening the first one was that it looked like any get rich fast spell book you could pick up at a “Witchy” shop. It was more or less a book on manifesting your desires. The only thing that made it unique to was it’s age. He flipped through the pages with half a mind on how old the book was, on how terrible it would be to accidentally ruin a piece of history. 

It’s full of ‘fertility’ fixes and cures. Drink the tea, eat the herb, put this thing under the marriage bed, and more of the same. Aizawa saw the trend immediately and felt for the woman who bought this book.

She just wanted a family. 

For a moment he wonders if this really was the first book. But based on the handwriting inside it appeared to be the oldest. The sad, angry little notes along the edges of the pages match with the ledger and the diaries, they seemed to be that of a much younger Nana. Maybe a newlywed who was excited to start a family. 

Aizawa hadn’t read the diaries in depth, but he didn’t remember anything about infertility in the diaries. He wondered if the diaries were a cover or if Nana expected them to be read by someone else. 

The notes at the edge of the spell book said a lot more to Aizawa than the long meaningless passages. The words here were unfiltered, angry, sad, hopeful, disappointed. 

There were spells that were crossed out and words that felt hopeless and while Aizawa never had any kind of partner long enough to think of having children of his own, the echoes of pain from this poor woman’s desperation to have a child was enough to tear at him. 

Aizawa would guess based on the notes, that Nana had tried every single spell at least twice, and with the number of notes around some, a lot more than twice.

Aizawa had to close the book, the anger in the notes too much for him. 

He placed the book on the nightstand before moving to the next, hoping that this one won’t be as marked up, or not as disappointed and angry. 

It’s hard to tell how old the second book was, but Aizawa thought that the handwriting difference from the first to the second showed it had been at least a couple years between when the first book had been marked up and when the second had been. It looked like Nana had given up on having children, or maybe on children with her husband, and had turned to something new: love spells. The second book was full of love spells, but these ones seemed to more of the usual, the kind of spells that were more based around the invitation of love and seemed a little more, well, harmful. In some of the stuff he had read what felt like a lifetime ago there seemed to be a push from doing anything that felt forced, like the kinds of love spells here. The first few spells in the second book all seemed to say, ‘Won’t be able to resist’ and ‘They’ll be falling at your feet.’ Aizawa wasn’t a fan of the idea that you could force people to love you, or even care about you, and these types of things felt creepy.

Flipping through the book, Aizawa found more of the same. Mix hair and drink this together and put things under their pillow and they’ll be yours forever. He focused on the spells themselves first, but it all seemed to be the same. The spells had little notes next to them. These wasn’t the anger that the notes in the first book had had. If anything, these felt methodical. Like experimentation. 

The notes around the edges were small and neat, perfectly legible. Things that worked and things that didn’t and things that could be done better. Sometimes the notes had names and sometimes they had descriptions and sometimes there was a simple, ‘Useless.’ Next to the spell. 

Something crept up his spine as he read more and more of the notes next to the spells. Notes implying that some of these spells had worked to make someone fall in love, or in lust, or in infatuation.

He set the second book down on top of the first with less care, disgusted by ‘Nana’s’ actions. 

He tried not to think about the kids sleeping nearby. They’re so young, so innocent, and so, so at risk from all the crazy people of the world. 

Even if these spells didn’t work, she still hid things in their rooms, laced their food and drink with things she thought would make them want her, and quite possibly stole their hair and clothing for her own devices. This woman may have died a century ago, but she was still potentially a rapist or worse. 

And he was living in her house. 

No.

This was his house now. 

What happened in the past had happened in the past. 

The woman was dead and had been for a long time. All of her victims were probably long since dead. There had been a dozen property owners between her and him, and it wasn’t her house anymore. Aizawa was making it his own. He had no plans to let rumors or the notes of a long-dead, witch spook him into thinking otherwise. 

Aizawa grabbed the next book, flipping through it without reading it, looking for more notes. The third book didn’t have many notes, and the ones that are there were plans made and forgotten. A slower look though the book, Aizawa revealed this to be a very old-fashioned self-help book. 

He set it down and found the next seemed was the same. The one after was about manifestation. 

The next couple of books after that one appeared to be somewhere between, ‘make your thoughts a reality’ and self-help books. Loathed as he was to admit it, these are interesting to read from a modern standpoint. One book even had relationship advice saying to buy cheap plates and breaking them all in the backyard when angry.

He was not sure how helpful that would actually be, but the idea was strange and funny enough that he took a picture of the advice and sent it to Nemuri. 

“From your POV, how effective do you think this is as relationship advice?” 

He waited for a  response before remembering that it was only about four in the morning. Nemuri wasn’t up before seven for anything short of winning the lottery. 

The book after that wasn’t as interesting. He went to pull the next one into his lap only to find it was been locked. 

Aizawa paused, this book was different from the others. It was bigger than the rest and looked hand bound. From what he could see of the inside passage, it was also all handwritten. 

The lock was a small thing, and when Aizawa tugged at it, there was a bit of give. He gave it a sharper tug to see if it would give, but no luck. The cover of the book would give first, and while that would technically get him into the book so he could read it, Aizawa felt like this was a piece of history, one more important than its simple cover implied.

Aizawa stretched, putting the book on top of the pile only to be unpleasantly reminded of the call of nature he’d been avoiding. 

Figuring that it was close enough to when he’d usually get up, Aizawa carefully levered himself out of bed, surprised to find that he wasn’t in much pain, and carefully made his way to the bathroom. 

After he’d finished and gotten dressed, he grabbed the locked book to take downstairs. 

Though he was awake enough without it he started the coffeemaker like a normal morning, placing the book in the middle of the counter as he hunted for something that would be able to get through the lock on the book. It was a small key lock, it would be easy enough to cut through with the right tool. A tool that Aizawa was certain that he had somewhere in here. 

A set of pliers would work, though he wasn’t finding any of those in the kitchen. He could have sworn that he had a pair in there. 

There was always the chance that the pliers were in the bunkhouse kitchen instead of the farmhouse kitchen. Then again, they might also be in his desk upstairs or out in the barn somewhere. The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour. He didn’t want to wake up any of the kids if he was wrong about where the pliers were. Going out to the barn didn’t sound pleasant either, which left the office. Though going up the stairs was going to be a pain. 

There was a handful of tools in the bottom drawer of his desk. Aizawa hadn’t meant for that to be their permanent home, but he kept forgetting to move them, and even when he remembered it never seemed important enough to do. 

A couple screwdrivers of different types and sizes, a smaller hammer, two wrenches, a file, and, of course, the set of pliers that he had been looking for, all the things that had made their home there. 

Looking between the rest of the tools and the pliers in hand, Aizawa shut the drawer. If he were smart, or less tired, he would take the rest of the tools and put them away. But his back still hurt, and he was more interested in the locked book than putting away a bunch of tools.

Aizawa sat back in front of the locked book, prying the lock open while doing his best to avoid damaging the book itself. Some careful tugs later and the lock came open, Aizawa could finally open the book. 

Instead of flipping through the book immediately, Aizawa placed it on the table, getting himself a cup of coffee. 

He doctored his coffee a lot more than normal, putting off reading the book that he had just went through so much effort to open. He watched the coffee slowly stopped swirling, until even the bubbles had stopped circling, and he found himself staring into cup of coffee. 

Finally, he placed the coffee next to the book and sat again, mindful to avoid further harm.

He took a careful drink of the cooling coffee to brace himself before opening the book with gentle hands. 

A flip through showed it was full of spells that require blood, the caster’s or victim’s. 

Aizawa flipped back to the beginning, carefully going to the title page. 

Quam ad Imperium Sanguis

High school Latin didn’t help Aizawa much now, but he was fairly certain the title was something to do with blood, though he wasn’t sure what. 

The next few pages were blank, after them, a disclaimer, written in English, that baid the reader beware, and that they considered the risks of the spells within before trying any. 

The unease that Aizawa had been feeling earlier was back full force. 

He finished reading the disclaimer, which ended with a plea for whoever had read this far to close the book and walk away, and he considered it. He considered closing the book and finding it a new lock and then burying it in a field. Let it be damaged by the Earth and rain and whatever lived in the dirt, destroyed before it could hurt anyone else. 

Something in Aizawa disagreed with the destruction of something that scared him, of something that he didn’t understand. He was bigger than that.

He flipped to the next page, and he didn’t think about how the fear of the unknown didn’t scare him, but fear of the known. 

The book started with minor sacrifices, a drop of blood to chase away nightmares, five drops to prevent enemies from passing over the threshold of the house, ten to bind.

Aizawa paused at the binding spells. These were similar to the binding in the book of love spells. But the author of this book, whoever had written this down, didn’t even pretend that there was any other option from complete infatuation and control.

He flipped to the next page to get that out of his head. 

From there it moved to smaller animal sacrifices, then large animals, then human sacrifices. 

Horrified, Aizawa couldn’t believe what he was reading. The things the spells claimed to do, the things the spells required? It was beyond the worst that he thought he could imagine. It’s worse than, anything he’d heard of. He was disgusted. With the book, with the author, with anyone who had bought this book, with Nana for turning to it, but he can’t find it in himself to look away. There’s a part of him that felt like he has to continue, to keep reading. 

Because it was exactly what he was looking for. It’s the key. 

He tried not to read too much of any one of the spells, feeling tainted for even reading as far as he had, but knowing that the worst had yet to come. Each spell was terrible, was awful, an affront, but he had to know.

Then, he found it. 

The worst ritual. 

It was near the back of the book, but it wasn’t the last one. It was to feed the earth, and create a protector of the fields. Aizawa shuddered just reading the description, but he knew that this one wasn’t flippable, wasn’t skimmable. 

Aizawa had to read this one, he had to know. 

The requirements were terrible alone:

Rousing hatred of the participants to the victim

The heart blood of a living human

The victim to be mortally wounded

Stringing them up under the full moon, trapped between living and dead

Watching for the fields to begin decay again, then to find the magic-inclined person and killing them for the ritual, then cutting down and cutting up the last victim, and stringing up the new one on the ‘watching pole.’

The rest of the book didn’t include anything about the ritual, be it what happens when it goes wrong or how to reverse it. 

Aizawa wanted to vomit.

That anyone could be willing and capable of doing anything in the ritual, they were monsters. The spell would require never ending sacrifices. Just completing the initial spell would require at least three victims, but if Nana had used this spell. If the ledgers reflected what had been going on here. It was proof that the woman was a witch and completing the most horrifying spells for simple profit.

There were ledgers for thirty years, but how long had she been killing people? How many people had died? How many people had helped ?

Aizawa flipped to the front of the book to a spell for divining. It had almost looked interesting before reading the rest of the entries, but now just looking at it made him sick. Monsters made this book for monsters. 

He shouldn’t have even opened it. 

He couldn’t destroy the book, not yet, at least. 

Thinking about the books, about what he’d read, Aizawa didn’t notice the room brightening. 

A flurry of texts telling him that breakfast was ready eventually dragged him from his thoughts.

The book sat in the middle of the table. The broken lock laid next to it. Aizawa wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he knew that the teens shouldn’t see it, shouldn’t know that this kind of evil exists in the world. 

One of the cupboards would have to be its home for now. He tucked it in under a bag of flour that he’d never opened and closed the door carefully. It felt silly, but a part of him worried that if he closed it too hard one of the kids might hear and come investigate.

His walk to the bunkhouse was lost in a haze of thoughts. He wanted to know what happened that caused Nana to go dark side, that she would go so far from the sweet woman who just wanted a child to someone willing to kill multiple people just to make a profit. 

He wondered what happened if the spell wasn’t continued. The farm had been in bad straits for years. There wasn’t anyone crazy enough to kill more people to make the supposed bad luck of the farm go away. 

There was only the scarecrow. 

Who was probably the last of the people to be ostracized, pushed out of the group.

With a strange stain on his clothes that could be blood.

Who had been on the farm so long that he didn’t remember his name. 

Who had been so alone for so long. 

Who was almost certainly Nana’s last victim. 

Aizawa barely noticed when he dropped his fork into his food (When had he started eating?) too horrified to focus on eating any longer. 

Scarecrow was Nana’s last victim. He had almost certainly been killed by the woman and left in a state of living death. He had been that way for a century . 

Aizawa couldn’t leave him that way, there was still a person in there, a kind, lonely man who had done nothing but help. He needed to figure out how to reverse this; he needed to fix it. 

He would give Scarecrow his freedom again.

Chapter Text

Aizawa didn’t plan for what his students needed at the end of the spring semester. They had all passed the math, science, and English portions of their classes, not necessarily with flying colors, but they did all pass, which he counted that as a wink. He tested all the kids after a break. All the things that he taught on the farm were things they could be tested on again. Aizawa was just looking for them to get it right in front of him. 

Aizawa decided that as far as ASL went, it would be better to go one at a time. Katsuki and Izuku passed with ease, which Aizawa expected. Momo and Kirishima were the next most competent. Tenya and Uraraka  are the next most competent after the other two. Denki had enthusiasm but often resorted to fingerspelling (which he usually got wrong but close enough to be understandable. Usually.) but Aizawa was willing to call it good enough since the kids had gone from nothing to somewhat decent communication. 

Mina was the only one of his students that hadn’t passed from right off the bat. Aizawa thought it was strange because he’d had conversations with her, almost completely in ASL, before. 

She panicked and got a lot of the rudimentary signs wrong, she forgot the basic alphabet, and she was having hard time but Aizawa knew she was more than capable of doing this. 

Instead of failing her, Aizawa decided to see if it was test anxiety causing Mina problems. 

He knew it was Tenya's night to cook dinner, so Aizawa asked Tenya to have Mina assist him. Though he was very confused about the request, Tenya agreed. 

Aizawa didn’t expect the two of them to sign while cooking, it would be dangerous and Aizawa wouldn’t risk ruining dinner that way. He told the rest of the students that they would sign over dinner because he wanted to grade them on how well they managed with their peers. It wasn’t a perfect option, there were definitely problems. But Aizawa knew, he knew , that Mina could do this. 

When everyone sat down to dinner it was the quietest and the most lively dinner that they’d had. All the students had fun, and except for the occasional request for something to be passed across the table, it was all done in silence. 

Mina, didn’t think it was weird or didn’t care, signed fantastically. She could get all of her thoughts out without resorting to finger signing. 

Aizawa was proud. She may have been flustered when she thought it was a test, but when she was just chatting in a relaxed environment, she was fluent. Aizawa mentally marked her as “Passed” for the language portion of the girl’s education. 

Aizawa wasn’t just proud of Mina, he hadn’t expected her to do well. He was proud of all his students as they learned and got better and did everything that he asked them to do. 

The next thing that he asked of them all was to devise a “plan of attack” as it were, for the best ways that they could spread out the crop rotations to get optimal use out of the fields while also keeping to the limit that only ten or so people would be available to plant and harvest everything. 

They spent a morning on it, each student getting ten pieces of paper with the actual farm layout printed out on them, making sure they knew which fields were available, and told the students to figure out how to plant at least two years worth of at least three different crops and a few pages in case of mistakes. 

Then he left. Aizawa let each student use a device to look up whatever they needed to, this test wasn’t about memorizing anything, this was about planning and if they could attempt to predict what a market would look like while optimizing their fields usage. They would be expected to explain why each crop would go where it went, when it went, but Aizawa wouldn’t be too picky. 

Which would be important if any of the kids were ever going to actually start their own farms. 

It was unlikely, but you never knew what people would do with their lives. 

When they were done, the students left their piles of papers to Aizawa. 

Aizawa was a little surprised at Denki's five-page, five-year rotation plan. It was a modification of the European three-year crop rotation plan with more fields. But Aizawa had to give him the extra credit for going above and beyond what Aizawa asked. Except for Izuku, Denki, and Bakugou, the rest of the students had turned in three-page, three-year plans, all based around the European model, but there was a lot of variety in the crop types suggested. 

Izuku also had a five-year, five-page plan that was fully fleshed out, every field being used every year, along with different plants that would restore nutrients to the soil overtime. 

Bakugou devised an overwhelming ten-year “plan of attack” for crop rotations and that it had fallow fields, but also had a variety of animals that would be in the fields to fertilize and replace the nutrients, while also planning for more animals over the years. Aizawa wasn’t going to tell him, but the plan looked good enough that Aizawa was considering comparing his ten-plan to Bakugou's and maybe changing his own. 

The next thing the students worked on was balancing the books. All the students made charts of the seeds and little plants that they had bought a few weeks previous, along estimates of how much harvest they could get from the plants and how much they wanted to sell them for. It’s a lot of numbers, more speculative math, but Aizawa didn’t feel bad about it. He’d done the same math for the farm with the crops he was planning on planting after the other tests. 

Aizawa wasn’t going to have them consider if they were making enough money from their theoretical sales, but he was certain that it wouldn’t be enough based on his own estimates. At the least though, if the kids stuck around through summer and helped with the Farmer’s Market, they’d have some spending money. 

The kids didn’t take long to balance their books. 

Although that could have been that half the class seemed incapable of doing math and the other half knew exactly what they were doing. 

Aizawa loved all his students, but he really hoped that Denki found a good job that required little thinking.

Mina's books weren’t too bad, but she mixed up a multiplication and division sign about three quarters in and figured that everyone was going to come out negative. She probably should have caught that mistake, but when Aizawa showed her the correct answer with the numbers that she was using, it looked like they came out quite a bit on top. Aizawa advised her to check her answers in the future, and she humbly agreed. 

Kirishima seemed to have a similar problem, but somehow came out with answers that still came out positive. Aizawa helped him figure out the mistake and how to avoid it in the future. 

Izuku, Tenya, Momo, and Bakugou all made outlandish, optimistic guesses on what their returns would be, but since they all got the numbers right Aizawa just reminded them to remember that not everything went according to plan and to keep track of their money. 

Uraraka put the most work into balancing the books they were given. She did the work four times, estimating for the best and worst case scenarios. She accounted for plants dying before fruiting and for plants producing their optimal numbers, she included numbers for the most and least that they could expect to sell the harvest for and the best and worst case numbers for those too. Aizawa had to hand it to her, she did a lot of work and put in a lot more work than anyone else. She thought about the potentials of incomes and outcomes a lot more than her peers. Aizawa wondered how much he should worry about her for putting in this much thought.

After more of the intensive parts of the course Aizawa was glad to move on to the more fun parts of the exams. From here on out it would be pass/fail, but since the only way that they could fail would be not participating, Aizawa knew that he’d be passing all the students before the week was out. 

First was showing the students how to shear a sheep and then watching them do it until the sheep were all sheared. 

The best part about this would be that the sheer number of sheep to shear was only half a dozen, but since none of the kids had ever sheared a sheep before, something would go wrong. Hopefully, in a funny way, not in a “oh god, one kid shaved another,” way. 

After a fierce battle with shearing one of the sheep alone, Aizawa paired the teens up and sent them off. 

Izuku and Kirishima shear a couple of sheep as a team. Aizawa had just had everyone shear the sheep at the same time to avoid stressing the sheep (and himself) but he was surprised at the vigor that and immediate skill that the two showed. They got down to business immediately and bounced each of the sheep between them until there were naked sheep and a mountain of wool between them. 

If it weren’t for the fact that they were yelling and high-fiving afterwards, Aizawa would have called it perfect. But they spooked the sheep with their theatrics and instead spent the next twenty minutes with Tenya and Denki chasing a half-shaved sheep.

The rest of the students hadn’t taken well to shaving the sheep, and while it took a couple hours for it to be done, the worst thing that had happened was the sheep running around until they went back into the field. 

From there they plow the fields. Instead of teaming up, they took turns plowing the fields until Aizawa called them done for the day. The sun going down was incentive enough for him, and the kids were bone-tired, anyway. 

No one really stood out with plowing the fields because to put it simply, they best they could do was plow a straighter line than anyone else. Since they got a couple fields plowed Aizawa was calling it a win. 

Aizawa didn’t call it a race, but the next day he told the students that whoever got their field properly seeded first wouldn’t have to do the evening chores. 

The kids rush was hilarious, Aizawa sat back and watched them move. Making notes on who was going to have to go back and reseed again. As he watched, he saw that nearly all the students will have to go back and reseed entire portions of the fields. 

Tenya seemed to focus on the speed part of it more than the doing it right part, which was a surprise until Aizawa saw the job chart and noticed Tenya was supposed to be cleaning out the goat pens. Which after everything else that they’ve done recently, Aizawa wouldn’t want to do that either. 

For the most part, the rest of the kids were speeding along, not doing it right. But that just meant they’d have to do it again. 

The only student not hurrying along was Momo. Which didn’t surprise Aizawa as her evening chore was making dinner, which wasn’t exactly a hardship. 

Aizawa checked in, and Momo grinned at him when he asked her why she wasn’t hurrying and pointed to where Denki was currently putting seeds down every five feet or so. 

“Do it right the first time and you won’t have to do it again.” Momo looked perfectly pleased with herself, and Aizawa took the moment to actually look around the fields. 

While the rest of teens were zooming around and about three quarters or more done, they would have to redo it and make sure they were actually measuring the next time, Momo was a quarter done and she was making good time. Since she was focusing on getting the job done right, she was going to win. 

He caught up with Momo again and congratulated her on using her brain. She beamed at him.

Aizawa sent everyone except Momo to redo their fields. Momo opted out of joining Aizawa and went inside to pack and nap. 

Eventually the rest of the teens finished up, properly this time, and they all went inside. 

Aizawa announced that since Momo took the least time, her chore of cooking dinner will go to Denki, who took the most time, having had to redo his field four times. 

Aizawa decided in the beginning that the kids would have to learn how to cook. Denki wasn’t the best in the beginning, but since he’d first started, he’s gotten good enough that Aizawa no longer really worried about Denki accidentally poisoning them all. Well, mostly. He still stayed in the bunkhouse grading homework and calling people he needed to talk to about the work in the next room when it was Denki's turn to cook just to be safe. But he trusted the boy to actually make the recipe right and to ask for help. 

Aizawa couldn’t remember what dinner was supposed to be, but since it was posted in the kitchen along with the recipe, he wasn’t concerned. 

The last few hours of the nearly last day were relaxed and nice. 

The students spent the day before their last watching movies and yelling into the kitchen to see if Denki needed help, but despite all offers, he was determined to do it himself. Dinner rolled around, and the other students were a little worried, but Denki had made a delicious dinner with multiple sides that everyone could eat.

As the day closed on the students last day of classes, the air over the dinner table was light. 

Aizawa felt a teary-eyed when he thought about them all going home. He would deny it if anyone asked, but that evening he still called his friends to talk about it  on the porch. 

“HEYYYYYYY!” Aizawa knew better than to hold the phone close to his ear when calling Hizashi, the bellowed greeting, like so many before it, just reaffirmed that training. 

“Hizashi! Aizawa, we haven’t heard from you in forever!” Nemuri sounded tired but genuinely happy to hear from him. Aizawa relaxed in his chair. 

“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

“Nope! We just got back to my place after the usual ‘thank God the semester is over’ party.” Hizashi informed him. He must be on speakerphone.

“I can’t believe I missed that this year. Anything exciting happen?” 

“The usual, people got too drunk, what’s-his-face tried to suplex a table again.” Hizashi informed.

“What’s-his-face? You mean Don?”

“YEAH!” 

“Hizashi,” Nemuri scolded softly and then continued, “This attempt went to better than previous attempts, and we managed to skedaddle from the bar before security threw us out.”

“Damn, can’t believe I missed that.” Aizawa tipped his head back so he could look at the stars while talking to his oldest friends.

“How about you? Anything exciting on your end?” Hizashi asked. 

“Surprisingly, no. One of the girls had some pretty bad test anxiety, so I had to change the parameters of her ASL final, but other than that all the kids did really well. They’ve all come really far this year, I’m really proud.” 

“Now the real question is, have you told them that?” Nemuri half-joked.

“I’ll tell ‘em later.” 

“Aizawa,” Hizashi dragged out the last syllable. 

“I will! It’s after lights out, so I’m not about to make a hypocrite out of myself by going and bothering them now.” 

Aizawa could feel the disapproving silence from the phone and basked in it.

Hizashi broke the silence to ask, “Have you celebrated at all?” 

“No, I’ve still got to be up early tomorrow, there’s a farmer’s market that the kids are taking part in, so I have to drive them there to set up.” 

“How early is early? Haven’t you been getting up at dawn?” Nemuri asked.

“Yeah, I’m not actually getting up any earlier than usual, I just have to actually get up and ready to go right after I wake up instead of drinking two cups of coffee and glaring at anything that moves for an hour or so.” 

“Oh no, how terrible.” Nemuri mock sympathized.

“The absolute worst.” Aizawa grinned at Hizashi's laugh from the other side of the phone. 

“So when do you get to celebrate, man?” Hizashi was still laughing while he asked his question.

“Probably not till the day after tomorrow. They go home then, and I’ll be alone for the most part.”

“For the most part? Who’s staying?” Nemuri sounded concerned.

“A local, uh, sort of, has been helping around the farm, he’ll probably be here for a while.” Aizawa told them, not telling them that the sort of local was a scarecrow who’s suffered more than most. 

“Why haven’t you told us about this guy before?” Hizashi complained. 

“Well, it’s a pretty recent thing. Not my fault you guys don’t call.” 

The immediate screeches of denial are music to Aizawa's ears, and suddenly he fiercely missed his friends. 

“Hey, do you guys want to come visit the farm over the break?” He asked the two who have just started quieting down.

“Wait, really?” Hizashi asked.

“Yeah! Come on over for a while, pretend at being country folk for a while, see what you’re missing.” Aizawa didn’t add that he’d get to see what he was missing too. 

“I wish I could, Sweetie, but-“ Nemuri started and Aizawa cut her off.

“But you already have plans?”

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting you to invite me over out of nowhere and I was asked-“

Aizawa hurt, his good mood soured. He didn’t really care or want to hear what Nemuri was doing, he knew that it was a little, okay, a lot, childish but he didn’t care, the rejection stung, “That’s fine Luna, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m going to head to bed, it’s getting pretty late, anyway. The offer’s still open, just so you know.” 

Aizawa ended the call without hearing what other excuses or platitudes the two had to say. 

His invitation came out of nowhere. There was no reason for him to feel so hurt when he knew that they probably weren’t going to come.

It hurt, though.

Aizawa looked up at the stars that no longer seemed as pretty. They felt like a billion eyes judging him for acting so harshly. 

He went inside and ignored the pain in his chest, the judged feeling. 

His bedtime rituals didn’t bring him any peace, and he ended up laying in his bed, feeling stupid for his little temper tantrum and for even offering. 

He felt wide awake even as he kept his eyes closed.

It didn’t feel like he slept, but his alarm went off, surprising him from a sleep he didn’t realize that he was getting. 

His bones ached as he rolled out of the bed, everything in him told him not to face the waking world, that it would be better for him and everyone else if he just stayed in bed. 

Unfortunately for him, the second alarm he had to remind him to drive the students around. So he grudgingly pulled himself away from his still warm bed. 

He lingered as he got ready, not wanting to do anything but knowing the kids would be disappointed if he didn’t.

Aizawa finally got downstairs, ready to grab some coffee and start the morning. 

Instead, he started the morning by running into Tenya, who was halfway up the steps and apparently prepared to drag Aizawa from his bed so that he could drive the students around. He was greeted at the bottom of the stairs by Momo, who handed him a traveler’s mug of coffee (where did she even get that from), and Bakugou, who handed him a breakfast burrito. 

How did they get into the house without him hearing them?

All three of them pretended to be patient while Aizawa hurriedly ate his burrito, which was a little too spicy to eat this early, but at least it was delicious, and he drank the coffee, which was definitely too hot to drink. 

As soon as he finished the burrito, Momo was shoving his keys into his hands and led the way as the two boys frogmarched Aizawa out the door. 

If it weren’t for how obviously excited they were, Aizawa would have words with all three of them. But their excitement was infectious, and Aizawa felt a grin make its way onto his face. 

The truck was already packed up with what Aizawa presumes was everything, the kids would need at the farmers’ market. They pushed him towards the truck, all rushing.

Aizawa got into the driver’s seat, only for Bakugou and Tenya to get in the back seat and try to dictate what he should be doing. He wouldn’t admit that he was only going the speed limit to mess with the kids, but it was fun.

Once they got to the nearly empty plaza that the market was held in, the three teens jumped right out. It was nearly a military operation with how quickly they got everything out of the back and set up. Aizawa was barely even out of the car when they were already shaking him off and telling him to go back to the farm to pick up the next group of teens. 

Aizawa drove back to the farm faster than he drove away from it, no longer trying to make the A-type teens suffer. Even though he normally wouldn’t, Aizawa blasted the radio, trying to avoid thinking about his actions the night before. Nemuri and Hizashi would forgive him, he knew it. While he tried to pride himself on being a logical person, he knew that the wrong word at the right time could take that all away. 

He needed to apologize, sooner over later. 

As he pulled to a stop Mina greeted him with a bowl of oatmeal. Apparently, while Aizawa had choked down the super spicy burrito, the rest of the students hadn’t been able to and had made oatmeal instead. Caring as she was, Mina wasn’t sure if Aizawa had eaten anything and wanted to make sure he had food to eat just in case. She left the bowl with him as she rushed off to get her things. 

Izuku and Uraraka ended up being the only ones that were ready to go. Aizawa told the others to be ready by the time he returned a second time and drove the next two to the market. 

Izuku sat in the front while Uraraka sat in the back. They talked about everything they hoped to see over the seats while Aizawa drove. They’re excited and offered Aizawa a few ins to their conversation but accepted that he wasn’t willing to talk when he gave noncommittal responses.

They weren’t as put together as the first three, but they still made decent time. 

Aizawa went to pull out his phone to check the time when he was driving back to the farm, but realized that he left it on the nightstand. It was a good thing that the roads out this way were empty, because the actual wheel hitting that he did when he realized he left his phone behind was embarrassing. 

He cranked the radio again, hoping to avoid the remaining feelings of embarrassment. 

Kirishima was the only one ready by the time Aizawa arrived at the farm, but he also had the largest haul, so it was probably for the best. 

Aizawa ran to grab his phone and refilled the travel thermos with coffee.

Kirishima babbled excitedly about the market, seemingly content with Aizawa's noises of agreement. The drive passed quickly and Aizawa nearly finished the fresh coffee on his way to the market. 

The other teens helped Kirishima empty the back of the truck and get everything set up for his stall.

Aizawa pulled away again after checking with the kids there, he wasn’t quite ready for another round trip but knowing he still had to go. 

He left messages on Nemuri and Hizashi's phones; they were drinking last night and it was late, they wouldn’t be up for a couple more hours. 

Mina and Denki were finally ready by the time Aizawa got back. This time he helped, if only to speed up getting them on the road.

Denki and Mina were super excited to actually get to the market, though they both blamed the other for not being ready earlier. Aizawa decided not to comment. 

The rest of the teens helped the last two get ready once they arrived. 

Aizawa watched as they got settled before looking over everyone’s stalls. 

They all looked good, lots of options and seemingly reasonable prices. Aizawa gave them a vague threat to be good, then left them to manage their stalls, wandering the market himself. 

There seemed to be a pretty wide variety of things being sold, small crafts and keepsakes along with a variety of spring plants. Aizawa was looking at some homespun yarn made by someone who apparently lived nearby. The yarn was sheep’s wool, but as he felt the yarn he was rethinking the alpaca idea.

Deep in his thoughts as he was, Aizawa didn’t even notice he was being approached.

Part of him hears the women next to him at the booth, but he just moves a little further to the side while still investigating the yarn. 

The woman closest to him tapped him on the shoulder. Aizawa barely had time to think about his annoyance at the lack of respect for personal space in this area before he focused on the words the woman was saying. 

“Excuse me! My name is Mabel Theodore, I believe I own some properties near your own. This is Harriet Talents, she also owns some properties that flank your own.” The woman speaking was almost as tall as Aizawa, but she was already stooping with age. Her yellow-grey hair was long and loose, and it hit Aizawa in the chest when she turned to gesture at the other woman, who had mostly grey hair with a few streaks of red cutting through. She looked a lot younger than the other woman, but more tired. 

Aizawa was groaning inside. This was just one more thing on top of a very long day, “Hi.”

“Now then!” The second woman, Harriet, said briskly, in a tone similar to one that Aizawa used on the students. “You own that formerly abandoned property out east a way don’t you?” 

“I own a property out east, I’m afraid I don’t know if it was abandoned.” Aizawa made a quick decision to not know anything about anything, he hoped the women would get bored and leave him alone to look at the yarn. 

Maybe he should take up knitting or something. 

“The cursed farm?” The first woman, Mabel, prompted him, but he only shook his head. “How have your nights been?” 

Well, that was a loaded question if Aizawa ever heard one. 

He tried not to show that he wanted to be anywhere but here. “I don’t know anything about a cursed farm. I have my farm, which is an educational farm, and I have my students, but there is nothing cursed about my farm.” Except the scarecrow, and he was going to fix that. He added without saying.

“So you haven’t been menaced by that scarecrow?” Harriet asked, and Aizawa didn't even have to act shocked this time.

“What?” 

“The scarecrow, dear.” Mabel moved into his space once more to pat his shoulder consolingly. 

“People who’ve previously lived there have been menaced by the scarecrow until they were so scared they absolutely just had to get out of town.” Harriet explained further.

“I can honestly say the only problems I’ve had with the scarecrow have been caused by my students.” Aizawa told them, realizing that for himself.

“So you haven’t noticed it, moving around at night?” Harriet asked before her friend. 

Aizawa played it safe once more, “I have. Although usually it’s because one of my students moved it.” Or rather, they talked the scarecrow into moving and he just followed them. Aizawa suppressed a grin at the thought. Happened during the day, too.

“And, the awful noises that come from your farm?” Mabel asked, sounding genuinely concerned but digging for that information.

“I’ve had an awful problem with coyotes, I’ve been doing a lot to try to keep them away from the animals. I’m sure I’m the cause of more than my fair share of noise pollution in the area.” Aizawa answered them, now doing his best to start walking away.

Aizawa saw the shared look between the ladies, but wasn't moving fast enough to leave before more of their questions.

“So, there’s nothing you would consider strange going on at your farm?” Harriet asked, moving in a surprisingly predatory manner for an older woman. 

“Ma’am, with all due respect-” none “-I have to take care of eight, extremely energetic teens. They barely follow the rules I have set in place. The only good thing about the lot of them is that they do their chores in a timely manner. They’re good kids, but they are the strange things that are going on at my farm.” Aizawa was trying to figure out how to get away from them when the second lady asked even more questions.

“Well, it’s just-” Harriet asked, only to be cut off by Mabel.

“Harriet! You don’t need to worry him about that if there're no problems here.” Mabel gave her a look that was full of venom with an odd tilt to her head. 

He almost took the bait, almost asked them what they meant. But then he considered all the other encounters he’s had. The two women argued and he decided he’d go check on his students.

“But what about the last couple who just straight up left town after some of the strange events?” Harriet was asking Mabel and it was enough.

Ok, fine. He will take the bait, for this. “Do you happen to know when they were in town?” 

“Who dear?” Mabel disengaged from Harriet who was still trying to ask questions. 

“The last couple, they’d have had a daughter who was about eleven or twelve?” Aizawa provided, hoping to jog the woman’s memory. 

Mabel looked at him like he was making things up, but Harriet’s face lit up. “Why, yes, they did have a daughter! She never came into town, I’d nearly forgotten the sweet thing.” 

“Do you happen to know where they moved?” He asked. 

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Mabel and Harriet traded another look. “They left in such a hurry, I don’t know where they would have gotten to.” 

“You’re sure? You have no idea?” He pressed more. 

“No, I’m sorry, dear. Why do you want to know? Maybe compare experiences?” Harriet was trying to look sly, but it didn’t work.

“They left some photo albums behind. If I lost the amount and kind of pictures they had I would be pretty upset. If you happened to know, I could mail them or deliver them.” Aizawa paused, then added, “Do you happen to know anyone who might have been closer to them?”

“Oh, what a shame. No, we don’t. I wish I did though. Those are memories you just can’t get back.” Mabel sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. 

Aizawa sighed himself. It was a long shot, anyway. 

He looked at the two women in front of him and considered that they might know a lot more about his farm, “Have you two lived here long?”

“My entire life, dear.” Mabel answered. 

“Since I married my dear Albert, bless him,” Harriet said, patting a locket around her neck.

“Did you know a lot of the people who’ve lived on my farm?” Aizawa asked.

“I certainly try to, you’ve made it quite hard.” Harriet said, laughing kindly. 

Aizawa chuckled along, not feeling like laughing, but hoping the action would garner him some leeway. “I’ve been so busy getting everything set up that I didn’t even think of getting to know the neighbors. And then I’ve been juggling teaching and I’ve been so busy I’ve barely had time to think, let alone go out for more than groceries.” 

“Of course, dear.” Mabel patted his shoulder again. “We’ve raised a gaggle of children between us. Taking care of a couple teenagers is hard enough, even with help. Is there another adult helping out?” 

“No, just me. They occasionally attend virtual classes held by some of my former coworkers, but-” Aizawa answered, but Harriet cut him off.

“I’m sorry, dear, you’ve lost me.” 

“What, the virtual classes?” Aizawa asked, looking between the women.

Both nodded at him and Aizawa wondered where to start.

“You know about the internet?” He asked, hoping he didn’t have to explain that too.

“Yes, we know about the internet here, we may live in the country but we’re not hicks.” Harriet told him.

Aizawa decided not to comment. “There are plenty of people who live in the city who can’t even turn on a computer. I just wanted to check. Virtual classes take place over the internet. In our case two cameras are set up, one on the teacher’s end, usually they’re someone who’s far away, and then we have one in the classroom we have set up on the farm so the teacher can see the students. Does that help?”

“Yes, dear.” Mabel said like she was humoring him, “Doesn’t it get lonely out there with no other adults to talk to?”

“Honestly, sometimes,” Aizawa answered, trying not to let the sadness, irritation, embarrassment of his conversation the night before take over his mind again. “I made a lot of phone calls to my friends back home. And if needed, I’ve got a few people I can call in case of an emergency. But overall, the kids are wonderful conversationalists when they aren’t glued to their phones. It’s difficult to be lonely when there are other people nearby at nearly all times.” 

“And, what about a girlfriend?” Harriet asked with a look at her friend.

Ah, so they were going to try to set him up with one of their kids. 

“No girlfriend. No wife either. Both would be kinda pointless when I’m very gay.” With aluck, his bluntness would scare them or offend them into leaving. 

“Ah, that’s a shame. Having a partner definitely makes the whole job so much easier. Anyone in town catch your eye?” Mabel carried on, undeterred. 

“No, again, I’ve just been too busy. I’m not really looking either, it would be a lot of work to try to build a relationship while doing,” Aizawa made a gesture that encompassed the surrounding market. “All this, and it wouldn’t be fair to them, my students, or me to try.”

“I guess we can’t set him up with Lisa OR Bryan then.” Mabel muttered offhandedly.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, no.” Aizawa laughed at that for real, and neither woman seemed to mind. “Do you two know anything about the previous owners? I found a lot of chests and boxes full of things that, if I were to leave them somewhere, I’d want back.”

“I think I have a couple forwarding addresses.” Mabel said, “But I’m not sure how many are still accurate. A lot of them I’m never gotten answers back from.”

“Anything is better than nothing. Thank you.” Aizawa told the women. 

They made plans for Aizawa to drop by Mabel’s house later for the addresses and tea. 

Eventually, he left, claiming one of his students was calling for him. 

Although none of them were, it gave him a good chance to get away from the women and to check on his students. 

The kids were having fun. They were making friends with the locals and selling what they brought. Bakugou managed to into two arguments with people walking by their stalls, and despite his best efforts, he wasn’t selling much of anything. 

Aizawa thinks about sharing the adage about catching more flies with honey, but with the look Bakugou was sporting, he kept it to himself to avoid getting bit by the rabid little shit. 

Aizawa wandered around again looking at the booths, looking at what other people had for sale and filing away the ideas he liked for later. When lunch rolled and and he’d looked his fill, he offered to take over for the students so they have a chance to look around too. 

The day slipped away in minutes and hours and eventually Aizawa was helping the kids load the produce they have left over into the truck and Tenya, Kirishima, and Bakugou went with him to unload at the farm. When he got back the rest of the kids piled everything left into the back before piling into the cab. 

Dinner was leftover produce and whatever snacks and sweets everyone brought home with them. The kids laughed and shared their stories of the day before separating to finish packing and getting ready to go home. 

At the end of it all Aizawa was the only one left at the table, listening with a smile as the kids stomped around the second floor.

Chapter Text

Aizawa was right there the next morning helping Momo and Mina get breakfast ready. The girls made a full English breakfast for everyone, using up what was left in the fridge so Aizawa didn’t have to keep track of it. 

The rest of the kids finished packing and getting ready,  and then they came down to help, or just talk and set the table. 

There’s no peace. 

The kids were talking nonstop, each babbling and excited to go home for a while. Breakfast was the same, everyone talking and talking over each other. Eating loudly and happily and having fun. 

Most of what the kids said went over Aizawa's head. He enjoyed the buzz, the kids’ energy exuded into the atmosphere, making them all even more lively and livening him up too.

For perhaps the first time, all the students remembered to clean up their dishes before leaving to do the last of their chores. And move their luggage outside. 

Aizawa listened to the buzz of the students and wondered if they were coming back. He wouldn’t get the class list until later in the week. But he was hoping they’ll all be back next semester.

Time flew and before he knew it, the kids were rushing to get their bags outside and say their goodbyes. 

“Bye Mr. Aizawa! We’re gonna miss you!” Uraraka appeared from behind him. She dropped her bags for a moment to give Aizawa a hug. Then he was surprised to get hugged from the other side right after.

“Yeah! Bye Scarecrow!” Mina called over her shoulder toward the barn while Aizawa tried to hug her back.

Mina let go of him when Denki called her stupid. Bakugou wasn’t on anyone’s side and called them both stupid. Aizawa, who was the the adult, told them all to shut up.

He tried to soften it, “Come on kids, it’s the last day. Keep it civil till the bus gets here.”

“But not after?” Bakugou asked, ever the smartass. 

“After you get on the bus, you’re the bus driver’s problem and I’ll be turning my phone off and taking a nap.” Aizawa told the kids with a small grin.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Mr. Aizawa! We know you’ll miss us!” Kirishima said from where he was piling everyone’s bags.

“That remains to be seen,” Aizawa said in jest, only to be met with a wall of complaints. He yelled to be heard. “Alright, alright, shut up! Come on, we gotta go over the last-minute list!”

Over all the kids quieted down, but Izuku and Tenya were distracted and still talking. 

“Come on boys, you’ll have hours to talk on the bus!” Aizawa said with mock exasperation. 

“Sorry!” Izuku shouted.

“I sincerely apologize!” Tenya also said too loudly.

“It’s not a problem, but I’d like to get over this list to make sure you’re all ready to go BEFORE the bus gets here. I’m sure you’re all excited to see your folks and if we get this over with now, you can see them all the sooner!” Aizawa told them cheerfully. 

The kids cheered like they’d just been told they won the lottery, and Aizawa thought that seeing their families was exactly that important to them.

“Alright! Has everyone eaten a good, nutritious breakfast?” Aizawa asked, knowing that they did.

He got a variety of yeses from the teens and moved on.

“Good! Did everyone remember to pack up their whole rooms? Bedsheets included?”

Almost everyone said yes, except for one very guilty-looking Denki.

“Alright, Denki, you can pack them later. Did everyone remember electronics? No phone or laptop chargers left anywhere weird?”

About half the group patted their pockets to check, but no one admitted to forgetting anything.

“Did everyone remember to say goodbye to the animals and take pictures as proof for your friends back home?”

“Wait, what?” Mina asked.

“Can all of you honestly tell me you’re not going to miss the various animals on the farm? And that you don’t want to show them off to your friends and families when you get home?” Aizawa answers the kids. 

The kids all nodded and planned, Aizawa wasn’t certain who, but he thought he heard someone say, “Good point, teacher man.”

“That can also wait till I’m done. Have you all said goodbye to Scarecrow?”

About half the group nodded while the other half looked apologetic. 

“Remember, when you’re gone he’s gonna be stuck with me and only me for three weeks. You all have made him into a chatty Cathy and he’s going to miss all of you. So even if you already said goodbye, go say it again.” 

They all nodded along and Aizawa moved along.

“Did everyone remember to turn off sinks, stoves, showers, etc. on your way out this morning? I’m not gonna go into the bunkhouse to find it flooded in like three days, am I?”

They agree that it was fine, and Aizawa adds checking the bunkhouse on his own list of things to do. 

“Alright, did everyone complete their morning chores?”

The group nodded, and Aizawa was fairly certain that he believed them. 

“Am I missing anything that you think I should mention before you all leave?” 

Tenya spoke up, “Did everyone double check you got everything out of your dressers?” 

Most people did not. 

“Did everyone sweep their rooms so no crumbs or anything that might attract pests were left behind?” Momo asked them, and most of the group said no. Aizawa added that to his list. 

“Make sure you sweep your rooms before you go!” He looked between them, but they looked done.

“Alright! If you forgot to do something, go carry it out, if you don’t have anything to do, make sure to take pictures and say goodbye to Scarecrow.” Aizawa paused, “Now, SCRAM!”

The kids laughed and scattered. 

Aizawa got a few more hugs and goodbyes from everyone. He told the kids that he was proud of them and how far they’d come since they get there and that even if they didn’t come back, they’re gonna go far; he knew it. 

The kids looked misty-eyed as they piled on the bus. 

He waved till they pass out of sight. 

Aizawa watched where the bus left from until he could see his shadow and realized he’d probably been standing in the sun for hours. 

He turned to start on the chores he’d need to do only to see the scarecrow standing nearby, apparently patiently waiting for Aizawa.

Aizawa had a few options when he turned around. He could have just left. He could have gone back to his house and just went back to be bed. He could have asked the scarecrow what it knew and tried to figure out how he was going to fix the scarecrow’s curse. 

He didn’t do any of those things. 

Instead, he checked the bunkhouse, and did the chores that needed doing. 

The kids may have gotten closer to the scarecrow, and Aizawa may have wanted to right the wrong that had been done to him. But he wasn’t comfortable. 

----------

Despite joking about it earlier, Aizawa didn’t turn off his phone after the kids have left. 

He went through the motions of his chores and looked at the front gates occasionally. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, the teens wouldn’t be back for a while and the likelihood of Nemuri or Hizashi coming to visit him was small and smaller since he hung up on them. 

He started toward the barn to grade before stopping himself. There wasn’t any homework to be graded, he had gotten it all finished. 

He thought about what to do as the sun dipped toward the horizon. 

The farm had felt so lively just a couple of hours ago.

Now it was just him, the animals, and a mostly dead guy. 

The loneliness of the next few weeks weighed on him.

Aizawa slogged his way through the chores that weren’t as time-sensitive before putting the animals away for the night.

The world was quiet except for the small noises of the animals. It felt like they missed the kids too. Though they probably didn’t know what was going on. 

The part of the silence that Aizawa hated most was the emptiness. The complete lack of life around him as he bustled around. He kept an eye out for Scarecrow, but for whatever reason the other was making himself scarce. Maybe it was just his way of dealing.

The sun was setting, and Aizawa missed someone else doing the cooking. After all the cleaning, all the feeding, all the shuffling of the animals, Aizawa just wanted someone else to cook. That had been why he had cooking as a rotating chore, so the kids would still have something to do, but so everyone would also have dinner. 

Aizawa dropped his dishes into the sink. He was going to regret it in the morning, but he was just done with anything like chores.

Aizawa settled himself into his chair on the porch. The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen but Aizawa had made a habit of it anyway, despite the lack of teens. He relaxed into the chair as much as he was able, looking up at the stars that he had gotten used to, but would never stop admiring. 

There weren’t any lights on at all. The bunkhouse was cold and quiet. He had shut off all the lights in the house. 

Aizawa admired the Milky Way, wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t come out here. He tried to imagine any of his former co-workers coming out here. Tried to imagine them setting up this farm, them sitting here, on the porch, staring up at the stars instead of him, and he couldn’t. 

Aizawa wouldn’t think of himself as brave, but he was certainly stubborn. He had lasted this long. Long enough to know that maybe he didn’t need to fear the Scarecrow but instead pity him. But he had only lasted this long because he was too stubborn to give up. He wasn’t brave but maybe steadfastness in the face of the unknown, in the face of the terrifying darkness that was only lit by something unknowable was what bravery really was. 

Or maybe Aizawa was rambling into the darkness like a loon who had gotten far too uncomfortable with being alone. 

At some point. 

Aizawa thought about calling his friends, or someone else to see if they were still awake. 

Or maybe he should just accept that it was time to go to bed. 

The light of the Milky Way provided no light for Aizawa to see his surroundings with, but as he watched the stars, time and space melted away. Time was irrelevant as he sat out under the stars, trying not to think of anything. 

He was only brought out of his revere by the ringing of his phone, Hizashi wanted to Facetime. 

Aizawa laid his phone face up on his leg, “Hey ‘Zashi.”

“HEY MAN!” Aizawa watched the way his friend bounced the phone around and assumed the other was getting into a car. 

“Why’re you calling so late?” Only then Aizawa realized that it was already past midnight. He should have gone to bed ages ago. 

“Just wanted to check in on you! You didn’t read or respond to any of the texts I sent you since that voicemail you left me. That and since all the students are gone, I figured you’d want some company or someone to drink with.” Hizashi had obviously set his phone on the seat next to him in the car but gestured with a bottle of something over the camera. 

“I’m fine, there must something wrong with the towers, I haven’t received anything from anyone. And I haven’t been drinking.”

“You haven’t?” Hizashi yelled, shocked.

“Nope, I’d rather be a good influence on the students, so I haven’t had any out here, and I didn’t really feel like getting harassed in town is worth a few bottles of something.” Aizawa explained, looking up once more.

“Harassed? What do you mean harassed? Who’s been harassing you?” Aizawa would have laughed at Hizashi's confusion if the other man hadn’t sounded so worried.

“Just people around town, they seem to think that I’ve bought a cursed farm and feel the need to ask about it or tell me about how cursed or haunted it is every single time I’ve gone to town.” Before Hizashi could ask, Aizawa added, “And it’s not haunted Hizashi, I would know.” 

“But it might be cursed?” 

“Only by me living here.” Aizawa said, startling laughter out of his friend.

Hizashi got himself under control enough to ask, “I wonder why so many people think that it’s haunted.” 

“Who knows,” Aizawa didn’t mention that he did, in fact, know. “Maybe they just got spooked by the coyotes.”

“You’ve mentioned them before, are they that bad out there?” Hizashi sounded worried.

“They’re not too bad. Usually at worst they howl or yip or whatever, a little too close to the houses. They’ve only gotten into the chicken coop once and that one is dead, so hopefully it won’t be a problem anymore.” 

“You killed it?” Hizashi sounded scandalized, “Is that even legal? Don’t you have to-” 

Aizawa cut him off, “No, no clue, and I don’t think so. It was dead when I found it in the coop, I think it hurt itself crawling in.”

“Oh, well, I mean...” Hizashi trailed off.

“I think most of the people who’ve lived here just, took too big of a bite. They got spooked by the locals and decided to cut their losses. You know I don’t get spooked easily, so I haven’t left because of that.” Aizawa considered. “But that’s not a big thing. How were your classes this year?” 

Hizashi went off on a rant about how he was fairly certain that Aizawa took all the good kids, and Aizawa, without meaning to, tuned him out. Glad to listen to his friend talk, but not feeling the need to input.

It was only when Hizashi mentioned Nemuri for the second or third time that Aizawa interrupted, “Hey, she’s not mad, is she?” 

Hizashi paused to consider for a moment, “I don’t think she’s mad, I think she was just surprised by your offer and then your reaction. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something that odd, and she’s not sure how to respond. If you sent her a voicemail like you did to me, I’m sure she knows that you’re sorry.”

“I did, I just haven’t heard from her. But if you’ve been trying to message me all day, then I just might not have gotten anything.”

“Yeah, man, I don’t think she’s mad. She’s probably just worried like I am. You want me to call her too?” Hizashi was a good sport, but it was late.

“No, thanks though. I’ll give her a call at a more reasonable hour. As it is, I think I should probably head to bed now. I’ve got to be up before dawn if I want to feed all the animals on time.” 

“The animals aren’t going to starve if you take a little too long to feed them in the morning.” Hizashi complained. 

“You obviously haven’t heard them complain in the mornings. Night ‘Zashi.”

“Night Sho. Don’t forget to call Nem, too.”

“I won’t. Night.” Aizawa waited to hear Hizashi hang up. He thought about watching the stars more before realizing that was in fact a terrible idea, and he really did need to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning was a drizzling, dark, overcast day where the sun didn’t seem to come up until an hour after it actually did. 

Aizawa went through the motions. 

The chickens were let out and he had to carefully boot them out of the way to actually feed them without just dumping everything on their heads. Although maybe they wanted that.

Then he let the goats out, one of the smaller ones tailed Aizawa around the pen until he placed it next to the now full containers of food. Though when the goat noticed him leaving, it made a beeline for the gate, then followed him around from the inside of the paddock.

He put out food for the cats, petting a more adventurous siamese who yowled for for attention, wrapping around his legs. The strange thing wanted to lick him rather than being pet, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

From there he put the sheep out to graze and finally remembered to call Nemuri while watching the sheep slowly spread around the fenced-in field. 

They ended up talking for several hours while Aizawa continued with the rest of the morning. She confirmed that she wasn’t mad, just worried, and they end up planning for her to come visit in the summer. 

Eventually she had to go. They said their goodbyes and she hung up. Leaving Aizawa once again alone with the quiet of the farm.

He stayed there, in the quiet and stillness, puttering around and putting the house into slightly better shape than it was. 

The grey of the day turned to sunset, and Aizawa found himself working alongside the scarecrow to put all the animals back and to feed them. 

He thanked the scarecrow for help, but flashes passed before his eyes of the rituals from the blood magic book and Aizawa had to leave before he got sick. A look showed the scarecrow was standing where he left him, confusion evident as he watched the teacher leave. 

Aizawa wanted to go back and say something, anything. To tell that scarecrow that he knew part of it, knew some of what happened. But he couldn’t tell the other. How could he? 

He couldn’t speak to the scarecrow. He couldn’t. He can’t he knows too much now. What was he going to say, anyway? How can he talk to scarecrow when he knows that the man was a ritual sacrifice?

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Aizawa wouldn't force the other to think about it until there was a way to fix or reverse it.

The forced silence from both ends was what finally got to him. Even though Aizawa and the scarecrow were both technically able to communicate, Aizawa just couldn’t. 

He felt more and more guilt each time he saw the scarecrow and hadn’t found anything that could fix him. Other than killing him. Which really didn’t feel like a good option. 

So instead he avoided the only other person until he couldn’t. 

But instead of trying to talk to Scarecrow, Aizawa went into town. Vague plans of seeing a movie and getting groceries were his excuses. 

After spending too much time looking for the theatre, Aizawa parked near it to grab a bite while he waited. 

He looked around before deciding to look up food in the area, only to be met by a barrage of texts from Hizashi and Nemuri along with some from his students. 

All of them who had cats had sent him pictures. Aizawa saved the cat pictures as the students pictures, sending them all ‘thank you’s’ texts for the pictures, they brightened his day. 

Just as he finally pulled up the search engine, he was pounced on by some teen girl. Aizawa barely had time to shake her off before she was talking a million miles an hour at him.

“Hey! Hey, mister! You own that farm out east that’s cursed, right?” The girl was talking extremely loudly, and also incredibly intent on maintaining eye contact. He noticed her eyes were purple, and when he scanned the rest of her, saw she was dressed like a lolita goth. He’s surprised he didn’t notice her before. She stood out in this area as much as he did. 

“Not even going to pretend like you’re talking about something else, huh?” Aizawa asked. 

“I have to write a paper for my end-of-year history exam. We’re supposed to do it on something that interests us. Something that interests me is the history of that farm you live on.” Aizawa quirked an eyebrow at her, and she seemed to take that as permission to carry on. “So, will you answer my questions as the current, and longest staying occupant of the creepy, often abandoned farm that’s outside of town?” 

She batted her dramatically lengthened eyelashes at him. Aizawa had to admit this was the most entertaining conversation he’s had with the locals so far.

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I argue? Tell ya what, let’s get lunch and you can ask me questions while we eat.” Aizawa offered, knowing he would miss the next showing. 

“Fine,” The girl paused, looking around consideringly, “the diner over here has good food.”

Aizawa followed her to a small Route 66 themed diner. They sat themselves in a booth. A server quickly appeared and greeted the girl by name while giving Aizawa a weary look before placing the menus. 

The girl, Asui, didn’t even look at the menu before ordering. She pulled out a notepad and a recorder from her spider shaped back pack and placed both on the table. 

She waited for Aizawa to look at the menu and order before turning the recorder on.

“Alright, for the record, what is your name?” She asked, all business. 

“Aizawa Shouta.” She nodded and wrote that down. 

“Where did you live before moving here?” As soon as she was done writing she was once more focused on intently maintaining eyecontact. All the eye contact was a little unnerving, actually. 

“In the city. Near a school.” 

“Really?” She asked, and when he nodded she carried on. “Huh. Did you know anything about the history of the farm at the time of purchase?” 

“The real estate agent blurted out that it was cursed when I was actively trying to fill out the paperwork.” Aizawa wanted to laugh at the memory, “But prior to that I had no idea. He actually didn’t say anything about what the supposed ‘curse’ was, so I assumed it was a superstition thing.” 

“Interesting…” She nodded writing something down before looking at him again. “And do you think that it’s just a superstition thing now?” 

“Well, yes, and no. The farm is weird, I’ll give it that. It’s huge too, so it’s hard to set up any kind of security system. There’s a lot of chests and boxes going back decades that appear to have just been left behind accidentally. They’re full of all kinds of things, momentos, family pictures, finances, things that you wouldn’t necessarily leave behind intentionally, but the thing is, ALL of it is this stuff. It’s ALL the things that you wouldn’t want to leave behind.”

Aizawa shook his head before answering the question.

“But the thing is though, that for all it’s old and creepiness. If you take the time to plant something, it’ll flourish. I’ve got ivy on my back deck that I just started watering again, and they’re growing inches a day. The little crops that my students planted and took care of over the spring all flourished too. They were some of the best plants for sale at that first farmer’s market.”

He shrugged, looking towards the kitchen for any sign that their food was done.

“So I’ll admit, I have dismissed the curse outright because I’m a skeptic. But I also haven’t really seen anything that would indicate there is a curse. Other than the people of this town trying to press the narrative every time I come off the farm.” Aizawa told her. The girl was writing rapidly, and when it had gone on long enough for the silence to feel awkward, the waitress appeared. 

Aizawa thanked the universe for its perfect timing and dug in while Asui continued to write.

Finally, as Aizawa was starting to think that he might have said too much at once, the girl locked eyes with him once again and said, “Press the narrative? Explain.”

“‘Please’ makes people more likely to do what you ask.” Aizawa said with a pointed look, he got an eye roll in return. “Anyway, pressing the narrative, that’s where people try to tell a story by only telling you specific details of the story or by making them up in the first place. In this case, I think everyone here has lived in the echo chamber that is this town and has heard the stories retold and heard them warped more and more with each retelling that people don’t know what the truth is anymore. If any of them even knew the truth in the first place.”

“I think you’re right,” She said after a moment of writing, “but I have actually documents to back up my beliefs and theories. If you’re willing to hear them out?”

“Well, I do love documented fact, lay it on me.” Aizawa told her, moving in on the fries. 

“So, a over a hundred years ago, this town was pretty much the same, expect that we had a couple different booming harvests a year. So we had a lot more transient type workers on all the farms.” She started slowly, like she was telling a story.

“Makes sense.” Aizawa said, sopping up the sauce from his burger with a fry.

“Now right around this time a boy met a girl, and they fell in love and got married.” Asui paused and got an excited look, “Tell me when this sounds familiar. So their names were Alianna and Grant, and they owned a little farm on the outside of town. They lived together happily for about ten years, when something happened, and Alianna went to live in a nearby city. No one’s quite sure why, but there were some guesses that it was because she and Grant weren’t having children.”

Aizawa thought about the book of fertility spells and was fairly certain that it was the reason she left. 

Asui carried on, “I’m not sure for how long exactly because there’s some varying account about this. When she came back there were multiple notations from people who knew her that she was different, though no one could say exactly what was different. After that, the couple started hiring even more temporary farm hands than ever before.” 

Asui paused, flipping through her notebook before shaking her head hard enough her pigtails went out horizontal.

“Now here it gets interesting, because the next year, even though the farm had only been doing so-so and they had way too many farmhands, the farm was booming by all accounts.” She ate some of her fries before continuing. “And here’s where it gets really interesting. In the winter some people talked to the sheriff about missing people. The thing is that the people were farmhands, and they apparently never made it home.”

Aizawa had to admit that was actually pretty interesting. 

“The police went to the farm, Alianna said the missing man went west to make his fortune. Only there was no evidence at all this person ever left the farm.” Asui all but whispered conspiratorially. 

“What do you mean?” Aizawa asked, curious. 

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Asui asked back, her head tilted.

“What do you mean there’s no evidence the person never left the farm?” 

“Well, there are no bus tickets or train tickets or signs that the man ever existed again off the farm.” 

Aizawa frowned, “Well you yourself said that there were a lot of transients in town around that time, and few transients are known for paying for bus or train tickets. Pretty much as long as there have been trains there’s been people who have hopped onto them without paying to get places. It’s also been about a hundred years, its possible someone messed up the records or wrote down the wrong name or even that he just went by a different name.” 

Asui paused like she hadn’t considered that before continuing. “Anyway, that wasn’t the only time that it happened. There was that event, and then two years later, same thing. And a few years after that, and couple more after that.” 

“How many times total?” Aizawa asked. He wondered if her numbers would match up. 

“There were eighteen missing persons reports total.”

“And you think it was the couple?” Aizawa hadn’t read everything, but he certain that Grant had nothing to do with it. 

“No, actually. I think it was Alianna alone.” She paused, considering, “Well, I think it was her, and a couple of the farmhands.” 

“Your optimism is awe-inspiring, but I really think that if there were even close to the number of people you think were involved in this as there may have been,” Aizawa shrugged, “don’t you think that there would be more people out there that know?” 

“Well, why do you think everyone in town knows about this? About your farm being owned by a witch and that she murdered people? People were scared then, and they were all under the witches’ thumb. She controlled the farmhands, and they boasted about what they had done, but they were never arrested because over the years, four different deputies who tried to arrest anyone on the farm, the witch or her workers, died. Suddenly and inexplicably.”

“Inexplicably how?” Aizawa asked, wondering if there was anything close to an explanation.

“It was the same in all four cases, a deputy would go out to the farm, arrest someone, and then within an hour of them putting the prisoner in a cell the deputy would just drop dead. There was a coroners report on one of them that said he seemed to be a perfectly normal 27-year-old with no medical history that could explain him just keeling over like that.” Asui shook her head and then tore apart the chicken on her plate. 

“Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern, four is what, fact?” Aizawa asked and she just shrugged.

“So everyone knew, they just couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything?” Aizawa asked her.

She tapped the side of her nose, saying through a mouthful of chicken. “Exactly!” 

“So what do you want to know from me?” Aizawa said, not sure what he could add.

“Have you found anything from the witch? Have you noticed anything weird?” She poised her pen over the paper.

“I’ve found a lot of diaries and financial information. But nothing that’s like what you’re telling me.” Aizawa knows he’s lying, but he’s not about to tell her about any of what he’s found.

“What about the weird stuff?” She asked, squinting.

“Well, what kind of weird stuff are you asking about?” Aizawa turned back. 

“Like, I dunno, weird noises, things that aren’t normal.” She made a gesture with her hand.

“Listen, I lived in the city, a big city, that I never had to leave before. Everything here is weird. Roosters? Weird. Coyotes? Weird. Teenagers, breaking into my house at the crack of dawn hoping I’ll already have a pot of coffee ready? Weird. Small-town people bothering me every time I go into town to insist that I live in a house that’s cursed and or haunted? Very weird.”

She laughed a little, “Fair point. What about like, cold spots in your house?”

“There’s not a window in that house that isn’t drafty.” Aizawa responded, stone faced. 

“Ok, what about like, flickering lights?” Asui did an odd body wiggle, Aizawa just grinned. 

“I literally can’t tell you the last time the lights in my house were redone, the bathroom and my office both flicker at random intervals, according to the kids, at least two rooms in the bunkhouse flicker at random too.” 

“It’s an old house, yeah.” The girl sighed, nodded her head.

“Ancient house,” Aizawa specified, “Yeah.”

“Have you seen, apparitions? Shadow figures? Darting things out of the corners of your eye?” 

She definitely thought the house was haunted. “No apparitions. The only shadow figures I’ve seen have had a body attached to them. Now I’ve seen a lot of things darting out of the corner of my eye but they’ve always been students finishing the work last minute or getting into the bunkhouse before I turn to corner so they don’t get in trouble for being out late.” 

The girl fully squinted at him, “I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or intentionally being unhelpful.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Aizawa grinned, pushing his plate away from him.

“So you’re admitting to being unhelpful on purpose?” 

“No, I’m telling the truth and being unhelpful because the questions you’re asking aren’t the right questions.” Aizawa told her.

“Well then, what are the right questions?” She asked as he stood up.

“That.” He paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll leave you to figure out on your own, but I will tell you that I can’t really add anything that you don’t already know.”

“Really?” She whined, “you’re just going to leave me on a cliff hanger like that?” 

“Yep, take care now.” She pouted. Aizawa felt a little bad. “And just so you know, you’re welcome to come hang around the farm if you want. Investigate your heart out. Just give me a call beforehand.” 

Asui was practically bouncing as Aizawa stole her pen to write the house number on a napkin.

“Thanks, I might take you up on that sometime.” She grinned brightly at him, and all Aizawa could do was nod and leave. 

He stopped at the counter to pay before leaving.

Even though there’s a chance that he could catch most of the movie, Aizawa got in his car to go back to the farm. 

That girl, Asui, had dropped a lot on him.

----------

Aizawa had dealt with a lot of bad people in his life. 

Some were worse than others, but someone openly, terribly, glaringly committing crimes hadn’t been punished at all. It had been a hundred years ago, but there should have been someone capable of stopping Nana. 

Or, should he call her Alianna, to avoid familiarity? 

He didn’t even know the woman, but he had read portions of her diaries, had read all the notes in her spell books. He felt like he had known her, had really known her in a way. She may have changed so much in what seemed like such a short amount of time, but really, those changes had to have taken place over years. 

Instead of going home, Aizawa went for a drive, thinking about what he knew and what he had learned and what he was going to do. 

How could someone do all this?

Aizawa rounded back to the witch’s freedom. If the girl, Asui , was actually right about the woman killing over two dozen people just for what? Power? Prestige? Bragging rights? This woman may have started sweet, but something terrible happened. It may have been a slow downward spiral, but she turned into a monster. 

How did it take over forty years for anyone to stop her?

If she had done all that, she would have been a menace and a terror to society. To the entire town she had lived in. The kinds of things he had only read about her thinking of trying were too much, but if she had actually done it?

It was no wonder that everyone was scared of her and scared of the house. It was probably cursed, just not in any way that Aizawa had noticed. 

Or maybe Aizawa was stronger than the curse. 

Nah .

He was probably just lucky. 

But if the witch wasn’t dead? 

Did anyone actually stop her? Was there an incredibly old woman out there killing people?

It had looked like she’d aged in the pictures, but maybe she’d figured out a spell to stop or slow down aging. The world’s oldest serial killer could still be at large.

Aizawa's thoughts circled around and around as he drove.

Then Scarecrow didn’t know about most of this. About any of this, really.

Aizawa might be the only person in the world who could tell him. But would he want to know? 

Was it Aizawa's place to say?

Aizawa was a relative newcomer in his life. Scarecrow might not appreciate someone barging in and telling him everything and explaining the last century for him. Telling him what had happened to him. Would he really want a stranger to do that?

But, there wasn’t anyone else alive who could tell him. Except maybe the witch.

But the chance that the scarecrow would want the woman who had actually hurt him, to explain anything to him was very small.

Aizawa sure as hell wouldn’t want that if he were in the other’s shoes. But that didn’t change the fact that, Aizawa was the only person who could. Even if he could tell the students what had happened, he wouldn’t.

They were still so young, with so much hope and love within them. There was no way that Aizawa could force this knowledge on any of them.

Aizawa would have to tell him. 

He had to.

How would he tell him, though? 

There wasn’t any good way that Aizawa could think of to tell him.

He still wasn’t sure that Scarecrow wouldn’t hurt him, but he didn’t want to risk it. And, he didn’t want to devastate the man with no way to fix him. But he still couldn’t, or maybe, wouldn’t talk to him about it. Except that someone had to.

But he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to hurt the massive not-man, not-monster. He just wanted, to… Maybe just make it all go away?

Aizawa's musing spiraled further and further until he was startled from his revere by the heavy splatter of rain against his windshield. 

He flipped on his wipers, realizing that it was already dark, or the sudden heavy clouds had made it seem so, he had to get back to the farm and fast. 

How long had he been driving?

As he turned back to find his way back to the farm, the thoughts still swirled in his mind. 

He raced back to the farm as fast as he dared, though it seemed that everyone else had either taken better, more well lit routes, or had made the smarter choice of not going out in the first place. 

The roads twisted and turned as he made his way back, more than he’d thought. He didn’t check the time, but the sky only got darker as he drove, the rain only grew thicker. It was bad enough Aizawa had to stop the truck to read the signs he passed. 

Eventually the farm was in his sights. He’d never been so happy to see the blue glow of Scarecrow’s eyes, which cut through the rain and night. 

As Aizawa pulled up, the other was signing something to him, but he couldn’t understand. 

After yelling “What?” twice hoping the scarecrow would understand, it seemed he finally did.

The scarecrow slapped the hood of the truck twice before pointing at the barn.

Aizawa thought he got it. 

He drove the truck to the barn where the scarecrow opened the doors and closed them. Once they were both inside, Scarecrow signed, animals-safe-I-put-away. 

Aizawa looked at the animals, safe and warm, and thought: 

I have to. 

I can’t. 

I can’t tell him.

Chapter Text

After about a week, everything… shifted. 

Aizawa wasn’t sure what caused it. Maybe it was the fact that the students had been gone so long, maybe it was because Scarecrow was getting lonely. 

Or maybe because Scarecrow realized Aizawa was getting lonely. 

But from that point their entire dynamic changed. Aizawa thought it might be for the better.

The morning that Aizawa was forced to notice the shift, he went out to deal with the goats. Only to find that they had already been put out, and the scarecrow was right there with food. 

He went to the sheep but they were out, and then the chickens but they were taken care of.

The scarecrow hadn’t tried to talk to him at all, it was following him around the farm as he tried to go about his chores, only to find a lot of them done. So he moved on to the chores that didn’t need to be done every day. Which required consulting his To-Do list. 

Maybe he’d start with something for the kids.

He had noticed that the smaller gardens that the students set up were getting overgrown. While he didn’t really need to do it, he would feel bad if the students came back to their small gardens they’d worked on were completely overgrown and the plants they grew all dead. 

When he went to weed them, Scarecrow joined him. From a distance at first, but when he saw that the teacher didn’t run, he settled in on the other side of the garden box. He worked slower, but Aizawa wasn’t going to scold someone when they were helping him for nothing and still doing the job right. 

They worked through all the plots one by one, taking most of the morning but Aizawa was glad to get it done, though he knew he’d have to do it again before the kids come back.

He wasn’t hungry even though it was the middle of the day.

He decided to go brush down the goats. He was a little confused when Scarecrow joined him, but he just double checked that the scarecrow knew what he’s doing before focusing on the goats. They worked together in tandem. The goats didn’t seem to hate Scarecrow, which surprised Aizawa a little. He had been half expecting them to flee, but they cozied right up to him and chewed on his clothes. 

When they finished with the goats, Aizawa decided it was time to check everyone’s hooves. Scarecrow helped by carefully holding the animals about a billion feet off the ground to his chest. It was easy to check all of their hooves at once, with minimal chance of getting kicked. Which was really all Aizawa could ask for. 

They carried on like that for the rest of the day, and when Aizawa went inside to eat, the scarecrow didn’t follow him, even though Aizawa entirely expected him to.

In fact, over the course of the next few days they went through much of the same. 

Aizawa woke up to find most of the animals out and ready for the day. And when he went about his other, less immediate chores. The other followed and helped wherever able. Except, the only time the scarecrow didn’t join him was when he was inside, but he didn’t take advantage of this as much as he would have even a month ago. He found the scarecrow’s nearly silent company quite peaceful. 

It was nice to have someone with him as he worked. But he noticed that the scarecrow didn’t try to communicate. If Aizawa started a conversation, the scarecrow would converse, but otherwise he was following Aizawa. Which he found very strange, and a little disconcerting. It grew more so the longer time went on. 

It came to a head, or at least to a realization for Aizawa, a few days later when the scarecrow was helping him clear out a paddock. Clearing the paddocks was dirty, disgusting, smelly work and despite it all, Scarecrow was right there with him. It’s not terrifying, he took a moment to breathe when the thought came to mind and he just stopped and stared at the scarecrow. 

There’s no way he was going to be able to give this up. 

The thought came unbidden, but he knew that it was solid fact. He wasn’t going to let this go. He can’t, he won’t. 

This place was his home now, the animals were his. The formerly very creepy but now only somewhat creepy scarecrow was his, in a way. Yes, the scarecrow was his own person, but now Aizawa knew that he was always going to be a part of Aizawa's life, as long as he wanted to be. 

To think, this could have been someone else’s. Nishiya could have been the one to buy the farm, to be here now. But Nishiya would never understand, and never appreciate everything -everyone- here. 

But he did the work that made it all possible.

Another unbidden thought, but one easily tossed. 

Aizawa knew Nishiya was superstitious. He’d run the first chance he gets after learning about everything.

Sure, Aizawa could tell him about all of it, make it so the other didn’t want to come here. But it could be fun to invite the former lead teacher, tell him Aizawa wanted to show him the ropes or better yet, co-teach with him. Let the man discover Scarecrow by himself. He’d be gone in a minute. But if he got scared he’d figure out how to take the farm down, which would be for the childrens’ safety. 

He couldn’t let Nishiya have it. 

Aizawa had put the hours, the time, the energy. Dealt with the locals. This place, as weird as it was, with its horrible history, it was his. For better and worse.

He just had to keep surviving. Keep the kids going if they came back.

But it was still full of freaky things. And Scarecrow. He could be making it all up. 

Most of what Aizawa knew about Scarecrow he had learned from Izuku and scribbled out notes. There was no way of knowing what was true.

But if he weren’t a kind, selfless person, he wouldn’t be out here with Aizawa. He’d probably be anywhere but helping, no one would be doing this for fun.

Even if Aizawa was trying to maintain a cover story, he couldn’t, wouldn’t do this. The scarecrow could have just avoided him, or could have just let the animals out in the morning. Aizawa would have considered that good enough. 

If he was a monster, his actions didn’t paint him as one. They make him out to be a sweet, caring guy. 

A really sweet, caring guy. Aizawa thought. Finally shaking himself from his thoughts just enough to more actively observe the man in question. 

If he really was that. He could be playing the long game to kill all of them or to scare people away, why make them care about him first?

The chances of him killing anyone were low at this point. At this point all Aizawa's worries were based on fears that he had when he didn’t know, when he didn’t understand; now he knew, he understood. 

He didn’t need needed to be afraid of Scarecrow, or to worry. He was here to help. 

And Aizawa needed his help. 

But Aizawa only agreed to do one year of this. If Nishiya wanted to take over, Aizawa wasn’t in any position to fight him. There were things that Aizawa wanted to go back to. 

He was born, raised, and lived in the city. He missed it, a lot of it. He missed his friends there, the relative anonymity of living as one person among millions. He could be anyone or he could be no one. 

It didn’t matter who he was there. 

But here it did. 

Aizawa was one of a few who frequented the farm, and only one of two who would live there year round. If what the other did could be considered living. 

If he did leave, he’d leave scarecrow alone. The students would change with time, and just because the scarecrow can sign didn't mean that everyone would be able to. Nishiya didn’t know ASL. 

But he was important here. Not just because he could take care of the animals and organize the students, he made it possible for Scarecrow and most of the kids to communicate. Sure, Izuku and Bakugou may have been able to teach the scarecrow and their classmates. But that was mostly Aizawa. 

When Aizawa was gone, would his students stick around? For Scarecrow they might, but they’d age out of the program within three years, less for some. They might teach incoming  groups, but it would take very little for one group to not learn ASL. None of them would able to communicate, and then Scarecrow would go back to being alone again until someone else came along who knew ASL, and how long would that take? It had taken nearly a century the first time.

Aizawa went back to work as he thought, he was also certain that in a way, he’d never been happier. 

Sure, he hated the bugs, and he missed his friends and he missed the conveniences of the big cities. But here he was scooping poop. 

And yet he didn’t want a thing to change. 

Which was strange to think as he’s scooping poop, but he was happy. Happier with others for sure. Though he had spent most of his time actively trying to avoid other people, and now he wanted someone around. 

He wanted to stay, but he missed having other people around. Actual adults certainly.

Part of him wanted to leave, even with the varied reasons to stay. 

Part of him wanted to stay, despite all the varied reasons to go. He still had time to figure out what he wanted. Maybe more, depending on how Nezu responded to Nishiya’s sudden leave of absence. But he was still going to have to make his choice, and soon. 

He’d have to plan for whatever choice he ended up making. 

Aizawa looked for Scarecrow as he thought about the crossroads. 

The new, strange thoughts- well, less than new. And, as he thought about it, less than strange- thoughts circling Aizawa's head seem completely foreign and yet, completely comfortable. 

The Scarecrow had opportunity to, to hurt Aizawa or the kids; but he never did. 

The thing that had scared Aizawa the most, the coyote’s death, was the only evidence that Aizawa had that the Scarecrow could and would kill. He had done it to rid the farm of a threat. He’d killed the one coyote that had been dumb enough to crawl into the coop. 

Sure, that had scared Aizawa, but it hadn’t happened again. 

The scarecrow still scared Aizawa, in a way, but he knew better now. Or maybe he had just acclimated to the scarecrow’s near-constant presence. 

Maybe it really was a trick. 

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe Aizawa ’s fears were genuine.

Or maybe he had let them go wild.

Maybe Aizawa could trust Scarecrow.

Or maybe he needed to stay his course.

Maybe this was all in his head.

Aizawa needed to get out of his head for a while.

Aizawa hadn’t smoked since he had gotten to the farm, he’d barely craved it. 

But he was stressing himself out, and he knew that while the old repetitive habit wouldn’t help, maybe it would give him a chance to get out of the cyclical thoughts and get some clarity. Or maybe it would just cast a smokescreen over everything. 

There was a half pack in his messenger bag. Aizawa hadn’t smoked since he got here. Just like there hadn’t been any need to go through it and throw out that last half pack. 

Aizawa stepped out onto the front porch to find a light drizzle coming down. He hadn’t even noticed it had gotten cloudy, let alone the rain. The sun had been beating down all day, the rain was pleasantly cool though.

Instead of his deck chair, Aizawa leaned against the wall, wanting to keep his pants dry. 

The first drag sent him coughing. He’d forgotten what it tasted like, how it burned. 

But it helped clear his mind some, or maybe that was just a placebo. 

Either way it worked well enough. Aizawa wouldn’t question it for fear that it would stop. 

Aizawa looked around the dark of the evening, wondering where the scarecrow was. The scarecrow hadn’t been by his side all the time time, it was almost strange to not see him. 

Aizawa wasn’t going to leave the porch to go check for him, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of the scarecrow or his glow anywhere. Which was strange, but Aizawa hadn’t come outside to wonder about the scarecrow. Well, he hadn’t come outside to only wonder about the scarecrow. 

He let himself sink back into the thoughts. 

Very strange and not very strange, thoughts that circled his head slowed down. Slow enough he could examine them. 

It was late, Aizawa really should be sleeping instead of debating if he liked the farm, liked the scarecrow, liked his life. 

There were plenty of reasons for Aizawa to go back to the city, but were any of them really good reasons? Were they excuses? 

Then again, there were plenty of reasons for Aizawa to stay, but they could have been excuses. Was staying out there just so Scarecrow wasn’t alone a valid reason or just an excuse? Was it a reason to stay at all?

Aizawa didn’t know. A voice that sounded like Nezu was telling him to make a pros and cons list. Though he hadn’t done that in ages, it felt like that was exactly what he needed. But he probably wouldn’t, at least until closer to winter when his time would be closer to over. 

He didn’t want to make a choice. Even though it was all he could think about. He didn’t want to risk poisoning his time here or the kids’ time here if he decided now. 

Aizawa tapped the cigarette out of habit before he looked and noticed it was burnt out. Had he been out here that long? He couldn’t remember if he’d smoked more than that first drag. Aizawa shrugged and crushed it out on the railing. 

The wet wood barely hissed at him. 

He pulled out another one, resting it in his mouth. 

But he didn’t light it, caught up in his thoughts. He leaned over the railing, bracing himself against it looking out into the night without seeing anything. 

There’s a part of Aizawa that just desperately craved going back to the city, it’s the same part of him that craved the cigarettes and craved the eternal dusk of the city. Part of him wanted to disappear into the crowd again, be one of a million people, and be nobody to any of the thousands of other people. Part of him wanted to go back to all his old habits to see if they felt like they used to, to see if he still fit into the space that he had carved for himself among the concrete and rebar and glass.

Part of him that wanted to stay on the farm, a part that slowly grew but was rooting deep, that relished the early mornings and early evenings, that was happy at night, looking up at the stars, and that thrived at the breakfast table and the dinner table and the classroom, where his students knew him and he knew them. There didn’t need to be a million people here, just kids who were excited and ready to learn. Here Aizawa didn’t need to fit in the cracks, this area, the farm, the people, had grown around him. He didn’t need to fight for space, his slow, steady work putting this place together has made one for him.

He wondered at how easy it was to be known, but unknown elsewhere.

Chapter Text

There are no footsteps when the other approaches, no sound. 

There was a glow that got brighter from behind Aizawa, then a massive hand reached out to pluck the unlit but now damp cigarette from his mouth.

He hadn’t even noticed it drooping. 

He jumped in surprise and whirled around to see the scarecrow less than a foot away from him, standing nearly head and shoulders over him, curiously examining the cigarette. 

Aizawa nearly punched the other in surprise. 

“Would you-“ Aizawa noticed that he was clenching his teeth and tried to unclench them. “Would you please, take a couple steps back?” 

The scarecrow looked at Aizawa and quickly moved back, signing “Sorry.” 

Aizawa wanted to tell him it was fine, but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he looked at Scarecrow’s hand and said, “So what, haven’t you ever seen a cigarette before?” 

The scarecrow looked at the cigarette still in his hand and signed, Look-different-from-remember.

“Yeah, well in your days they probably hand-rolled all of them, these days it’s all done by machine. Did you smoke?” Aizawa didn’t want to invade the other’s space to get close just to get a wet cigarette back. The mostly empty pack stayed in his pocket. He didn’t need another.

The scarecrow examined the cigarette before shaking his head, signing, No-too-much-money.

Aizawa nodded, a pack these days was ten bucks or more. He didn’t know how much they cost in Scarecrow’s time, but sometimes it was just too high, no matter the cost. 

He leaned back against the railing, keeping an eye on the scarecrow. Not in a scared, startled way, not anymore. The scarecrow didn’t look at him, just looked around. 

Was that a new tic or an old one? Before he died or after?

The scarecrow’s movements were strange, as though his body were being moved by an invisible wind that only affected his limbs one or two at a time. He was gentle and jerky at the same time. 

“So, you remember your name at all?” Aizawa asked the scarecrow, unsure if the scarecrow would remember and knowing that it was an inappropriate question. 

The scarecrow shook his head, swaying but not moving, he moved to lean against the railing as well. Scarecrow hadn’t made any noise as he moved. In fact, Aizawa knew if he hadn’t seen the scarecrow move, he’d be shocked to find him standing there. 

There was more that Aizawa could ask. Things that the scarecrow might have answers to and things that he might not. He had questions that he could only ask here, now. Under the cover of darkness and with a lack of sleep clouding, or maybe freeing, his mind. The rain wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold enough to bring some sense either. 

“Do you,” Aizawa started, then Scarecrow’s entire focus was on him, frozen. “Remember, anyone? Like any family? Your family. From before?” 

Scarecrow moved only to look out into the night, his body completely still. Aizawa watched him, waiting to see what he did. The scarecrow didn’t look at Aizawa for so long that the man thought that he may have insulted him. He was trying to figure out a catchall apology when Scarecrow looked at him again.

No-one. No-parents. Scarecrow signs slowly, no-siblings. No-children. No-family.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, you don’t remember so much already I shouldn’t be-“ Aizawa's apologies were cut off by Scarecrow waving a hand in front of him.

I-remember. I-alone. Always-alone. The scarecrow turned away, but he signed, You-have-family?

Aizawa saw the action for what it was, an option not to answer. “I’m the middle of three, my brother is a couple of years older than me and my sister is five years younger. My folks died in a car accident when I was sixteen. My brother did his best, but he wasn’t very good at taking care of himself, let alone two younger kids. I stayed until I graduated, and then helped pay for Sana to go to a boarding school. It was safer, smarter, than her staying home.” 

Aizawa paused, “I can’t remember the last time I spoke to either of them.” 

Why? Scarecrow asked, moving so he faced Aizawa. 

“I was never that close to my brother, and Sana’s working on her residency, to be a doctor. There was six months or so where we only spoke through voice mails. But our only real connection was our parents. There’s no one to force family reunions, we just, haven’t been together at all.” 

What-brother-name? Scarecrow asked, seeming to enjoy listening. 

“It’s Shogo. I think it means light.” 

Scarecrow nodded, Why-not-invite-here?

Aizawa thought about it. There wasn’t anything stopping him. He just didn’t want to. Sana would probably be focused on her schoolwork and wouldn’t appreciate the farm life as much, and Shogo wouldn’t come in the first place. “I don’t think that they’d appreciate it.” 

Scarecrow cocked his head, but not in confusion, another emotion that Aizawa couldn’t name for sure without seeing the other’s face. He wanted to see what the other looked like, but the worry that there might be a skeleton underneath was a little much. Do-you-a-p-r-i-s-e-a-t-e-it-here? 

Aizawa would ask, but he knew what the other meant.

“I’m not sure, but I want to stick around for a while yet.” Aizawa wasn’t sure what he meant, but the scarecrow seemed to accept his answer.

I-remember. The scarecrow signs. He paused, perhaps thinking about what he was going to sign, Man-raise-me. 

“What was he like?”

Beat-me-spill-milk. 

“He sounds like a terrible man.”

Good-and-bad. He-cared-not-always. The scarecrow stopped again, and Aizawa waited for a couple minutes before he realized the scarecrow wasn’t going to continue.

“Well, I think just about everyone here cares about you, and I don’t think anyone here will beat you over spilled milk.” Aizawa tried for a joke, and felt like he’d missed it by a mile from the look that Scarecrow shot him. 

I-know-people-good-here. Scarecrow signed, a small tilt to his head. 

Aizawa wondered if that means he was smiling. 

“I haven’t said it before and I probably should have, but you're good with the kids. And since they’ve been gone, you’ve really helped me. A lot with the chores that needed doing around the farm, and- and I’m thankful. So, thank you.” Aizawa turned his head away to avoid the scarecrow’s eyes, his skin heating up. 

He heard the screeching rev of a broken chainsaw and knew the scarecrow was laughing at him, but he wasn’t too upset. 

They carried on, taking turns asking each other questions. Some deep, some, not so deep. 

Scarecrow had many questions and he couldn’t answer all the ones in return, but he tries. Aizawa found as the night grew later, they didn't run out of questions, and when there’s a chance of a story, it took time for Scarecrow to get it out, but it was worth it.

Nemuri and Hizashi's friendships with Aizawa confused Scarecrow, but he also seemed to enjoy hearing about all the things that they did together. He laughed loudly at Aizawa's story about how they got banned from a grocery store at age nineteen. And he asked for more details when Aizawa told him about his past. 

The scarecrow had few stories of his life before, and a few more of his life after. 

After a particularly emphatic story from Scarecrow, Aizawa was left holding his sides from laughing so hard. He doubted that Scarecrow actually did the things that he claimed, like chasing someone who tried to spray paint the house off the property, but the stories were good. 

The light drizzle slowly turned to a downpour, and only after Aizawa was soaked finally threw in the towel, saying goodnight so he could get a towel.

His good mood after the discussion with Scarecrow surprised him, but Aizawa wouldn’t dwell.

He tossed the pack of smokes into the trash; he didn’t need them at the start of the night, and he didn’t need them at all. That and the pack was now a squishy mass of wet pulp and nicotine was barely worth mentioning. 

He cleaned up and dried off, and when he looked out the window, Aizawa was surprised to find himself disappointed that he couldn’t see the scarecrow.

Though it surprised him, Aizawa didn’t dwell, choosing to embrace the exhaustion that was slowly turning his limbs to lead. 

He didn’t remember his dreams, in the morning he would remember the blue tint to them, the sounds of rain pattering, and the taste of smoke. He wouldn’t recognize the difference. 

Chapter Text

The days were all peaceful before the students returned. Aizawa talked to the scarecrow more, and Scarecrow started more conversations. And each time, Aizawa was surprised when the Scarecrow laughed, the noise harsh and grating but somehow light. 

Aizawa hadn’t thought this equilibrium they’d found could ever be achieved.

Aizawa still hadn’t told Scarecrow about the spell book in the kitchen, hadn’t told him that he knew what had happened or that he hoped that there was some way to fix what had been done. He wanted to fix this; he wanted to help. But he didn’t know if it was possible. 

He hadn’t been able to do more than basic research while the kids were away. Even with Scarecrow helping out, they were still barely able to keep up. Aizawa crashed into bed, exhausted every day. 

There weren’t any preparations for the students coming back. Aizawa had gotten the class list, and he was ecstatic to see they were all coming back. Most of the lesson plans for the summer were written, they were about keeping the plants and animals healthy. That, and figuring out how to house alpacas because Mina was relentless, and she had gotten Iida in on it, her paper was so long. So, so long, and full of ridiculous amounts of details, and a really, undeniably good argument for having alpacas on the farm. 

The day the students were to return, Aizawa went through his early chores, happy that all the kids were coming back. 

He probably wouldn’t admit it, but part of him had been very worried that the kids wouldn’t come back. 

No one new signed up, which hadn’t surprised Aizawa. It was summer, what kid would sign up for summer classes if they didn’t have to?

He made lunch, once again piles of sandwiches and chips, with some variety for Mina and Denki or for other students who might not want meat or peanut butter. 

Once done with that, all Aizawa had left was to wait. And wait he did. 

The students were supposed to show up before noon. 

When he got on the phone with them it was revealed that there had been had some kind of accident, and they would be delayed for a while longer. 

So Aizawa found something to do. 

The book was still hidden in the cupboard in the kitchen, though now the cover was dusted with flour. He tried to dust it off, but that just spread the grains more. 

The inside of the book was just as horrific as always, with too much blood and mayhem and murder. The ritual that Aizawa knew that Scarecrow had undergone was still gruesome and horrifying.

Looking through the book didn’t reveal signs that there was a way to finish the ritual, or to reverse it entirely. But no matter how intently he read it, or how much of the rest of the book he looked through. There was no cure, no fix.

Aizawa looked even as he heard the bus pull up, the students clambering and hungry and very eager to be off the hot bus. 

Finally he had to stash the book back in its hiding place and greet the kids. 

“Alright then. Glad to see you all made it back!” Aizawa said with a grin before he checked the clipboard even though he knew who all the students were. “Ashido, Mina?” 

“Here!” The girl was once more bouncing, though Aizawa now knew it was just her personality. Her hair had been dyed a darker blue that almost matched Kirishima's . She wasn’t wearing the contacts this time around, which didn’t surprise Aizawa. Mina had given up wearing them and probably hadn’t had time to rebuild the habit before coming back. Her clothing choices were much the same, a loose t-shirt over a bikini top and jean shorts, and rain boots to complete the odd look. Aizawa knew that she got cold, but Mina refused to give up her fashion, at least now the weather was warming up.

“Bakugou, Katsuki?” He called.

“Here.” The blond boy grumbled. He seemed more relaxed, at least he wasn’t glaring at everything. Bakugou’s clothes were all black, but he’d definitely grown into them since the early spring. He had added new band shirts to his repertoire, or at least brought new ones from home. 

Aizawa moved on to the next person, “Kirishima, Eijirou?” 

“Here,” the boy in question shouted, grinning. Now his night blue hair appeared to be free of product, but his bandana was bright red. His smile was nice but still sharp, Aizawa really needed to make sure that the kid wasn’t filing his teeth. He had a white t-shirt and shorts on, his sneakers looked like they’ve been given a good scrub. 

“Iida, Tenya?” Aizawa almost didn’t get to complete the name, the boy once again shouted.

“Present!” His eyes were hidden by the thick rectangular glasses. Aizawa took in the neatly pressed button-up that accompanied a pair of blue jeans this time around. His hiking boots were still very clean, but showed signs of wear. 

“Kaminari, Denki?” 

The boy grinned and raised his hand, “Yo!” At some point over the holidays he got a haircut, and his formerly jaw-length, gold-blond hair, was now at the top of his ears. The collar was still there, though he retired the leather jacket. He also had a band shirt on, though Aizawa didn’t recognize this one either.

“Midoriya, Izuku?” 

“Here, sir.” Izuku wasn’t as nervous as he was the first time, but he still looked it. Whatever tint the kid had on before had been done again, though now his hair was more obviously red than before. The kid was wearing a graphic T with something written on it, and cargo jeans that were still full of notebooks. The blue sneakers appeared to have been replaced with even brighter blue sneakers. 

“Uraraka, Ochako?”

“Here!” She answered. She looked happy this time around. And she had new clothes that look a little big for her. Her hair was also made into an undercut, which was probably a lot cooler in the summer temperatures. 

“Yaoyorozu, Momo?” 

“Present!” Momo was wearing, a pale blue, flowery, and loose blouse and short skirt. The boots she had this time around were obviously work boots, which Aizawa was glad for. Though he hoped she’d worn them in. 

“Now, you may remember that there are a few steadfast rules with very harsh consequences.” 

Most of the students nodded and if possible, Izuku looked even more nervous.

“You may remember rule one as being, ‘Under no circumstances are you to mess with the scarecrow.’” He paused, looking at all of them, “Well unfortunately for me, it has been brought to my attention that that was a very stupid rule, so it has been taken off the list.”

Aizawa ignored the cheering from the kids.

“Rule two is now rule one. Your curfew is dusk. This is still for your own safety. Even though we now know for sure that scarecrow is an ally, if I find you out of the bunkhouse at any time during the night you will be expelled effective immediately.” The students nodded along, though Izuku looked guilty. 

“Rule three is now rule two, you can only bow out of your chores if you are too ill to leave your room or a bathroom. Your chores will relate specifically to the health and care of the animals on the farm, and to yourselves and others. The punishment for breaking this one will be modified to fit the crime.” The students were starting to look bored, but Aizawa knew they were paying attention.

“Former rule four is now three, you’ve got to be up by dawn. If not, an ice-water shower to the bed will get any late sleepers out of bed.” At this the group snickered, and Aizawa let himself grin at the quickly lightening atmosphere. 

“And then rule five is now rule four, if you start to lag in any of your classes I’m going to sit down with you to help you work through it. I know I’m coming across as a hardass, but you’re all supposed to be here because you want to be here, and I’m hoping that you won’t get too bogged down with regular schoolwork to enjoy it all.” Aizawa got a few nods, the kids seemed to understand where he was coming from, which was all he really wanted. “I’ll announce the changes over dinner. Any questions?”

The kids shook their heads. Aizawa nodded at them before clapping his hands together.

“You’ve got the afternoon to get settled, the chores for this evening are up so make sure you look over the board to see what your chores are!” He tried to make eye contact, “Now tonight’s dinner is potluck style. Make sure you make something for dinner, everyone is required to bring something to the table, make sure to bring enough to share! And! Scatter!”

The kids laughed, taking their bags to the bunkhouse. Chattering excitedly as they went. Aizawa smiled as they passed before heading back into the farmhouse to get things set up for later classes.

----------

A few hours later the sun was beaming down, and it felt warm for the first time in over a week. 

The kids were setting up their dishes when Aizawa announced. “Hey, everyone pick up what you made, you three, help me move the table outside! It’s too nice to stay inside today.” 

Kirishima, Iida, and Izuku helped him get the table outside, they were the strongest boys.

It took some effort, but between the four they got the old table outside without injury and minimal damage.

But Mina still mocked them for their “Gross man grunting” while they got things outside. 

The rest got the chairs and dishes outside, and after much laughter and no small amount of sunbathing, they all sat down. 

“Alright! Welcome back everyone, the food looks like it’s not going to kill me. All the faces I saw last quarter are here again. Big difference from this time last year, Scarecrow can work during the day, and the rule of not going out at night, at all, has been modified to ‘you can go out but have to stay on the porch.’ I’m sure some of you will find that rule more liberating than it was, especially with summer coming.” The kids muttered their agreements and nodded excitedly, Aizawa planned to buy some lawn chairs as well. 

“Are there any other new rules, Mr. Aizawa?” Iida asked.

“Oh, yes, actually. You are welcome to invite people from in town to the farm, but they have to give notice when they’re coming and need someone with them for their own safety.” Aizawa said, thinking of Sue. She’d fit in well with his group of odd ducks. 

“So can we go into town more often?” Kirishima asked, ready to vibrate out of his seat. 

“The only thing that’s stopping you is that none of you have a driver’s license.” Aizawa paused, adding, “and it’s over ten miles to town.” 

“So we could go?” Denki asked. 

“As long as you got back from town before sunset.” Aizawa conceded, knowing they were going to go no matter the distance. 

The students exchanged looks, and Aizawa knew that they’re already planning trips.

“Alright now, this summer you’re going to take care of your animals, your gardens, and yourselves. The only classes I’ve been doing are a couple of amateur forensics courses that will each be two days a week for four hours.” The kids, seemed to get more excited at Aizawa's announcement. “In the afternoons I’ll still be doing the signing classes, if anyone’s interested. And we’ll be introducing some new animals to the farm, eventually”

“Alpacas?” Mina asked, leaning in as close as she could from three people away. 

“Yes, alpacas are on the list. Everyone can thank Mina for that.” Aizawa said with a grin, Mina nearly blew out his eardrums with her excited cheering.

Aizawa gave her a bit to cheer before telling them, “Eat up!”

The teens continued their excited chatter, and when Scarecrow came over to see everyone, the kids took turns getting up to greet him. 

All in all, the dinner was a success. It was hard enough to get the table outside that they didn’t bother taking it back in.

Chapter Text

After the students settled back in, they got back into some semblance of order. 

Aizawa enjoyed teaching the forensics class, finding it fun to passion some of his skills. It also left most of his weeks empty to do what he wished. Well, and supervising. 

Most weeks went by with minimal chaos and lots of strange foods that the kids enjoyed making, stretching their culinary wings. 

Denki in particular was proud of his new cooking skills and started volunteering to help cook whenever the chance came up. Aizawa was proud of him, and very thankful for it. Now at least one more boy going out into the world would know how to cook. 

Aizawa saw the kids off to bed earlier, everyone was absolutely exhausted despite the early hour.

He himself went off to bed as soon as he had gotten back to the main house. Tired beyond reason, sleep had claimed him immediately and he didn’t dream.

----------

Something caused Aizawa to wake up. The world around him was not right, topsy-turvy. 

The sky was still dark and the bed still warm, why was he awake? 

Had he heard something? Maybe he had… But what was it? What woke him?

He sat up in his bed, listening for anything. Seconds and hours later he was about to give up and go back to sleep when he heard it. A howl, a call, an answer, and a screech of metal. He didn’t know what’s howling out there, but he knew the screech was Scarecrow’s. 

He knew it even as he threw his body out of bed. Grabbing his gun as he ran for the stairs. 

Scarecrow was under attack.

Aizawa didn’t pause to put on shoes, just threw open the front door and ran out. 

He looked for the source of the noises.

A few of the kids were out of the bunkhouse. The boys looked terrified but they’d grabbed fire pokers and were standing at the edge of the deck; the girls crowded around the door.

Another screech, came from the barn. He ran right for it, slowing long enough to yell, “It’s not safe! Get back inside!” 

When Aizawa saw the light from the barn that could only be Scarecrow, he put on a burst of speed, his bare feet hit the packed dirt with heavy slaps, but he couldn’t feel the pain.

Aizawa skidded to a stop outside the doors of the barn. His panting breaths and the pounding in his ears drowned out the sounds.

It took him a second to see everything, there were at least a dozen coyotes in the barn. Several were focused on the animals, several attacking Scarecrow while the others seemed to be keeping watch, though for whatever reason they hadn’t notice Aizawa. 

Scarecrow’s screech of pain cut through the din, Aizawa's gaze locked on the other. Scarecrow looked… different, bigger, his body almost glowing. The blue glow that focused on Scarecrow’s eyes came from all the gaps in his clothes. Under the sack covering his head, under his gloves, between the buttons of his shirt, from the hole that was at the center of the stain, the bloodstain, in the middle of Scarecrow’s side. 

Aizawa had a moment to stare before one of the coyotes jumped up and caught Scarecrow’s arm.

Aizawa shook himself. Lifting his gun he thought, Now was not the time, Shouta!

Two breaths later, one of the coyotes was dead, and another was down. Aizawa could hear it whining and knew it wasn’t dead. 

This seemed to be what finally drew the coyotes’ attention, as one rushed at him. 

He reloaded it, and tried to aim, but the shot goes wild when he’s hit.

Scarecrow threw one of the coyotes across the barn, it went flying as Aizawa fell with the coyote on top of him slow motion .

It seemed that it telegraphed it’s next moves. 

Aizawa saw those massive white teeth aimed right for his throat, and only just got his arm up. 

White hot pain lanced through him as the teeth cut into the flesh of his arm until it was shaking him with a grip on his bones. It tore flesh away as it attempted to get Aizawa's neck and face. 

He tried to get away from it, tried to shoot it. 

He couldn’t get the right angle. 

The gun was knocked from his hands by the coyote’s jerks and rending claws. 

He couldn’t get his arm away without opening up his neck or face, he couldn’t get out from under it. Aizawa fought the coyote as it ripped into his arm, his blood painting his chest and face and the coyote’s jaws. 

The scarecrow was making noises somewhere far away but all he could see was the coyote that was too violent to be a normal coyote, it was ravenous beyond anything normal for the creatures. 

A detached part of him wondered if he’d need rabies shots, and the rest was trying to get the blood-covered monster off of him. 

Out of nowhere he could hear a high-pitched yip of pain and then the coyote that was on him was gone, flailing as it was being lifted, its claw caught his face as Scarecrow pulled it away, but the stripe of pain was nothing compared to his arm. 

All of Aizawa's attention was on the coyote when it went flying over his head, out of the barn. 

He focused on what was in front of him, ready to defend himself, only to see the scarecrow. He wa massive, larger than life, glowing, more than the thin, scared, too tall but still so small thing he’d seen since he got here. 

Aizawa gazed up, pain, fear, and worry forgotten at the sight of the other. 

Scarecrow’s hands flew around. 

Aizawa knew that he was trying to tell him something, but the signs weren’t connecting in his head. The ground was beneath him and the rain was on him and for a moment Aizawa forgot what happened and wondered when it had started raining. 

Scarecrow was right in front of him, holding Aizawa's face in one massive hand that seems to wrap all the way from his cheek to cup the entirety of his head. 

Aizawa wondered how he missed just how huge the scarecrow was. 

A part of him recognised how fuzzy he felt. He’s lost a lot of blood and was going into shock, but all he could see was the blue glow of the scarecrow.

The room spun as Scarecrow carefully lowered Aizawa to the floor, he couldn't feel the ripped up flesh that used to be his forearm, but he was absentmindedly certain that if he could he wouldn't be conscious, though the state that he was in wasn't much better.

He wondered where Scarecrow went, the thought of trying to stand to look for him was enough to make him nauseous.

That was probably a concussion. He hadn’t thought he’d hit the ground that hard. You could get a concussion from shaking your head around too much too, which he had be doing. 

Where had the coyote gone?

Something was whining close to him, but he couldn't see what it was. 

Was he whining?

The kids were yelling. He couldn't make out who, but he knows that it's one of them. 

His head hurt and whoever was yelling was too much for him. 

He tried to tell them to be quiet, but it had no effect. 

He thought he yelled something but, he wasn’t sure what came out. The noise didn't stop, but Aizawa couldn’t yell anymore.

Scarecrow reappeared, lifting Aizawa. 

He might have screamed from pain or surprise.

And then they were on the front porch of the bunkhouse, Aizawa was on the dining room table they still hadn’t moved back inside. He thought he was at least.

Scarecrow was above him, and Aizawa could only see the glow from his eyes.

Someone was talking. Aizawa should have been able to understand, but he couldn't figure them out. 

He was tapped, they called the emergency services, and that Nezu was on the way to act as an adult.

Aizawa nodded. It was Momo standing in front of him. He knew her words but he didn't understand.

Why were they calling Nezu? Why were they...

Scarecrow was back, pulling Aizawa's arm from where it was tucked against his chest. Someone was holding him, holding his shoulders to the table but Aizawa couldn't work up the strength to pull his arm back. 

Someone was squeezing his arm, he could feel the pressure being placed on the wounds and it was worse than anything so far. Someone was talking, Aizawa couldn't see them, it's too dark. 

No, his eyes were closed, from the pain? From exhaustion? Why were his eyes closed?

Izuku was holding on and Kirishima was on the other side. 

Izuku was the one talking to him. At least Aizawa thought it was him. He's not sure. 

Scarecrow had the first aid kit and was the one bandaging Aizawa's arm. There was increasing pressure, he wondered if he should try to stop Scarecrow. 

The scarecrow moved his hands, and the boys let go of Aizawa's shoulders and legs. He tried to look to see who was holding his legs, but Scarecrow pressed his massive hand to Aizawa's chest, preventing him from sitting up. 

He was murmuring to Aizawa, forgetting the terrifying quality of his voice. 

But, Aizawa heard it, and he wasn’t afraid. There was the spike of adrenaline, but no fear. Aizawa wasn’t afraid of Scarecrow.

The man who’d become something like a friend.

Aizawa couldn't really understand what anyone was saying, but he could hear the words, the meaningless reassurances that the Scarecrow was telling him. He wondered what the other's living voice sounded like. 

He wondered if he'd get to hear it. 

He watched what passed for Scarecrow's face as he whispered meaningless assurances to Aizawa and the kids. 

The kids drifted in and out of Aizawa's vision, but they weren't moving right. 

They were swaying and sometimes they just disappeared between seconds. Aizawa knew that he was drifting since the danger had passed, but the gaps in his memory were making him sick, were making him worried. The only thing that kept him calm was the low grumble of distant thunder that masqueraded as Scarecrow. 

He'd barely calmed but there was something warm in his chest as the monstrous man spoke. It's the only positive thing in the moment and that scared him more than the coyotes.

Things slotted into place. 

At some point he fell for the monster, and fell hard. The massive monster that was, dare he say it, lovingly holding his hand and murmuring to him. 

But there was more going on than his feelings. 

He was terrified but he couldn’t do anything with that. With either of the emotions. He needed to make sure that the kids were okay, that none of them were hurt.

Aizawa found strength, maybe it was through love or fear or pain, but he found the strength and managed to sit up before anyone stopped him. 

He tried to ask if the kids were alright but his tongue was leaden. It took him longer than it should have to shape the question on his woolen tongue, and longer still to get an answer that made any sense.

The kids were safe enough. 

Scarecrow would protect them, Aizawa knew this.

He could rest.

No, there were some other things that needed to be done before any cops or people or anyone else showed up.

Aizawa only had the loosest plan. 

Calling it a plan was actually an offense to anything resembling a plan, but he cared so much for these damn kids and this damn scarecrow and he knew that he needed to keep them safe. 

The best way to do that was to hide the evidence. 

Even though it was the last thing he wanted, Aizawa knew he has to send Scarecrow away to deal with the coyotes. 

To shoot them to mask their death. Or to try to explain what happened. It wasn’t perfect. If there was any kind of investigation it was going to lead to a lot of questions, but Aizawa couldn't think about that at the moment. 

He waited for the scarecrow to leave, an eternity and a blink of an eye later, he was gone. 

He could hear the students around the table. Aizawa forced himself to lean off the table so he could focus on the students all flittering around. He tried to look them in the eye, but his vision wavered.

He thought all the kids were there. 

Mina had a phone held to her head, he thought she was the one that called 911. 

He did he best to focus on her, asking when emergency services would arrive. Forty minutes, but how long was that? 

Aizawa pointed at the two standing closest to his feet, it might have been Kirishima and Bakugou, and told them that he had a job for them. 

He blinked and there are hands forcing him back onto the table. He knew it wasn’t good, but he needed-

He sent the two boys, or at least a couple of the kids to help Scarecrow hide his presence. 

He didn't know how much they'd be able to do but they're doing something. 

And not worrying over him.

Time passed, and then Scarecrow was in front of him. 

Aizawa started complaining when he started checking for injuries, and pushed him away, albeit weakly. He could feel the lack of force behind his limbs and still he was trying because the other can't be here.

“No," He mumbled or grumbled or said, or the word might have died in his throat, he manages to be a little louder when he said, "You need to hide." 

Aizawa couldn't muster the force to actually push the other away, but he tried.

He tried to tell him, "Or something, before the cops get here.” 

Aizawa blinked and he was flat on the table once more. 

Scarecrow was gone and Momo was in his place. Her hand was on his face, similar to the way Scarecrow had held his face earlier, but she's holding a bandage to his cheek.

Oh that’s right, he had been hit in the face, hadn’t he? 

He couldn’t remember how bad he’d been hit. He hoped that he wasn’t going to have a terrible scar there, but scars didn't really matter did they? They'd be one more sign that he'd survived again. Or it wouldn't heal.

The world dipped in and out of focus. 

The pain came and went like the tides and Aizawa wondered why the ocean came to mind when he'd never even seen it. He rode the tides of pain to the best of his ability, but sometimes it tried to pull him under.

It seemed like a short time but each time he started to dip beneath the waves Momo pressed against the wound on his face a little harder, just for a moment, and that perked him right up. 

To some extent.

The teens were talking. 

Some of them were talking. 

Whenever his eyes opened and focused he could see Momo's lips moving, he could hear her speaking, but the words crested and fell like the pain, like the ocean, vast and too much and all encompassing. 

He's certain the other teens were talking to him or to her, but the words were an impression of what they should be. 

A siren rose in the distance, and Aizawa recognized that. 

Who's hurt? Were any of the kids hurt? 

He could hear sirens, he had to check on the kids to make sure that none of them were hurt. He would never forgive himself if they were. 

He tried to stand but nothing supported his weight. He’s pushed back onto the table and Momo was there holding his hand and begging him to…

Stay right there. 

There were other students yelling at him, Aizawa could see them running.

Momo was telling him something and Mina was on his other side holding his bad shoulder to the table. 

The other kids were getting the authorities and guiding them to the right place. 

Help was on the way, Aizawa just needed to stay still.

Someone nearby was talking. 

It's not Momo anymore, the voice was unfamiliar. 

There’s a flashlight in his eyes and Jesus that’s bright, Aizawa blinked against the light being shown directly into his eyes while wondering where it came from. 

Someone was talking to him but the students were responding for him. 

There was another person looking at him now. A hand tugged at the bandage on his face and Aizawa managed a hiss. Someone else was telling him that the police are there, that they will stay with the kids until the other legal guardian shows up. 

He mustered an acknowledgment for whoever told him that, though the exact words escaped him. Someone asked if he could walk. 

He thought he could but as they helped him up. Aizawa lurched. He had nothing to throw up but that didn't stop his body from seizing.

The man supporting him was talking to someone, Momo responded. 

Aizawa didn't know what she said, but she helped support his bad side as the other man helped guide Aizawa. The ground swayed as he moved, he weaved back and forth, but the others kept him from falling as he got on the stretcher at the bottom of the stairs. 

Aizawa yelled to the kids to be good as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance. The baffled looks on the student's faces made him question what they think he yelled.

But it was too late to ask. 

Aizawa dropped in the ambulance, the emergency crew got more panicked as he stopped responding but he was too exhausted to stay awake at this point. 

They were trying to get him to stay awake, but he was too tired and time was immaterial.

Aizawa's thoughts drifted to Scarecrow. 

He was probably in love with the scarecrow, somehow. 

He wasn’t scared of the scarecrow’s horrendous noises like he had been. 

The words that really barely counted as such were made up of noises that were the sounds of destruction and damage and death. They had no survivors and no happy endings. There was an innate spine-shivering quality to them that Aizawa had only found when near car accidents or around death. 

The sounds terrified him, but in the last few weeks the sounds had gone from being mind-warping, breathtakingly, pants-shitting levels of terrifying, to heart-pounding, breathtaking levels of exciting. 

Aizawa wasn't scared though the sounds did get his heart rate up like nothing else.

He had felt safe in the scarecrow’s arms. 

Aizawa was six foot solid and mostly muscle after the months of labor on the farm. Simply put, he was a heavy man to lift and Scarecrow hadn't had any problems carrying him all the way from the barn to the bunkhouse. 

He had seen Scarecrow throw the coyotes around like they weighed nothing, and yet he still had held Aizawa's head so carefully, had lifted Aizawa so gently. 

He had hands that could kill but Aizawa knew that Scarecrow would never hurt him or any of the kids. 

He cared, he cared about the scarecrow. 

He cared so much more than he had thought his heart capable of. He wanted him to thrive and be happy. He wanted Scarecrow to be free to walk among people and spend his days how he wanted. To keep teaching the kids. Not simply trapped on a farm in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest town. 

He wanted Scarecrow to have a normal human life.

Shit, Aizawa wanted to take him to see a movie. 

How had he gotten this deep without knowing it? How had he reached the point where movie dates were on the table and not known?

He knows nothing about a man he’d fallen in love with. Scarecrow's history was a mystery to him. Aizawa, but even if neither knew anything about Scarecrow's past. 

Aizawa had come to know man under the burlap, and while there were people who would think that Aizawa didn't know him well, he almost didn't. He didn't know anything about Scarecrow. Just the things he was certain about, even if he wasn’t certain about anything. 

Nothing. 

Well, nothing except that the scarecrow loved the students about as much as Aizawa. 

Nothing except that his favorite time of day was sunrise, that his favorite color was green, that he loved the goats almost as much as the students and that he was a little wary about the idea of the alpacas but Aizawa knew that they would love him as much as everything else on the farm, people included.

There were a lot of thoughts in his head while he was in the ambulance. 

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how many of his realizations and thoughts happened while he was awake and how many when he was somewhere between sleep and unconsiousness, but most of what happened between the dozing off in the ambulance and waking up in a room in the ER was a mystery to him. 

Other than his thoughts which barely counted anyway. 

But he was sure that meant he wasn’t getting out of the hospital for at least 24 hours. Probably longer if he said anything out loud about being in love with a scarecrow. 

The waves of pain that had been tugging him under fade. Though what threatens to tug him under now was the pulsing fuzziness that was bound and determined to cover most of the pain and the rest of his senses. 

They've got him hooked up to a blood bag and some pain meds if the fuzziness was any indicator. 

He blinked slowly at the bag above him when someone else starts talking to or maybe just around him. 

Another person's face came into view, along with their hands as they took to inspecting his face. Their hands weren't as gentle as Scarecrow's or as soft as the girls’ tugging on his arm. Though it wasn’t anywhere near as painful as the tugging that had gotten him here in the first place, he turned to look at someone else who was looking over his elbow. 

He could hear them talking, well, they were asking questions but most flew over his head. 

He asked them to call Nemuri and Nezu and keep them updated on his condition. He wasn’t sure how many times he said it before his lips cracked open and someone actually heard him say it. 

Someone asked for numbers and Aizawa repeated those a few times too. 

He wasn’t sure of the time and he wasn’t sure how Nezu or Nemuri would react to a call at this time of night, but he hoped they answered. 

He hated hospitals and didn't know anyone here. 

Didn't want to be alone but there wasn’t going to be anyone here with him for hours.

They told him that they're going to have to give him stitches. They wanted to give him an MRI, and that there was a very good chance that he had fractured ribs. 

Aizawa hadn’t noticed any pain in his chest, but once they mentioned it, suddenly the pain was worse than the pain from his arm. 

They told him they were going to give him something directly into his arm before they started working, but Aizawa was already drifting again. 

There was a small prick followed by burning in his arm, but Aizawa's thoughts had turned inward. 

He was in love with the scarecrow. 

It was strange to think about and stranger to feel. Though he’d never seen the man’s face, he knew he loved whoever was underneath more than he's ever loved anyone.

Aizawa was going to tell Scarecrow. 

He had to. But how?

He ends up with forty-three stitches, five to hold his face together and the rest patching together his arm. His ribs weren't fractured, only bruised, but the tape that was holding him together almost hurt worse than his ribs.

There was a long while in between being sewn and patched and taped together where he’s left alone in a room. His head hurt and he just wanted someone to be there and remind him that he’ll be allowed out eventually. In the past, it had been Nemuri, sometimes Hizashi.

He was hurting and tired and the room was too light and sterile smelling and he knew someone was probably going to be back in a minute to wake him up again, but he wanted anyone here. Someone. 

Maybe Scarecrow specifically.

Aizawa was right, a nurse came in with a small basket of massive-looking needles and he was still alone. He got a shot to the shoulder to make sure he didn't get rabies and another in the ass to make sure he didn’t get tetanus. And then he was alone again with just his thoughts and the nebulous certainty that he was tired and alone and in love and he just really needed someone there with him.

He’s not sure how much later the nurse stopped by later to give him more pain meds and comments that he was still awake. 

How long had it been?

He was alone and he blinked and Nemuri showed up. 

He’s pretty sure he told her that he was in love with Scarecrow.

She just patted his hand. He tried to explain but she just gave him water and asked him what kind of good stuff they had given him and encouraged him to get more sleep before the nurses came back. 

He asked her how many times they’d been by already and she told him twice since she’s been there. 

He’s in love with Scarecrow. He had to talk to him, has to see if there’s a way to save him. 

He had to.

He... had… to...

Chapter Text

Two days and a lot of pain medication later, Aizawa could go home. 

Nemuri was the one who received the care instructions. Aizawa tried to argue it wasn’t necessary, but the doctors, nurses, and Nemuri all argued against him and just told them both the care instructions, but anytime the doctor gave them pauses to make sure that they understood the instructions, he really only checked that Nemuri understood.

Normally that would be enough to piss Aizawa off, but since he was drugged and not in a place to pick fights, it didn't go anywhere. 

Well, it didn't go anywhere beside Aizawa petulantly muttering to himself as Nemuri thanked the doctors very kindly and loudly enough that he knew she was covering up his mutters. Which made him want to mutter more. 

But he was an adult.

So he only muttered a little.

The trip home was slowed by a stop at the pharmacy and then a slow drive back to the city for Nemuri to grab her overnight bag from home. She hadn't grabbed it when she'd first come to the hospital, which put a solid two hours onto the drive on top of the two hours that they had prepared for. 

Aizawa slept while they were on the highways and on the streets of the city, though the stop-and-go motion of it made him nauseous. 

They talked over the bumpy roads to the farm. Aizawa hurt with every bump, and Nemuri tried to distract him. They did have to stop a couple of times for Aizawa to dry heave out the side of the car. Nem never judged him for it, just pulled his hair out of the way. 

Nemuri told him about a few of her recent conquests. How much Hizashi and she have been missing the third of their trio. Aizawa laughed when it seemed funny and agreed with her about dumping people. She didn't ask about the scarecrow and now that Aizawa's more sound of mind, he found himself scared to tell her the truth. When they got back to the farm, it was nearly nightfall and Aizawa was shaking and exhausted and starving and sick at the same time. 

Nemuri had hardly stopped the car next to Aizawa's truck when most of the kids bubbled out of the bunkhouse and raced to him. He didn't stop them, instead grunting as a couple of them hug him. 

He was closer to passing out at that moment than on the trip there. 

Nezu and Nemuri pried the kids off and warned them to be more careful. Izuku and Tenya came out of the barn, and both raced over, though Izuku obviously knew better than to hug someone injured, and Tenya bounced in place, rapid fire updating Aizawa on all that he had missed.

Though he did see the look Nemuri pointed at him, Aizawa just nodded along at the updates until Nezu suggested that the kids leave so they can get their teacher settled in. 

Aizawa told them that he just wanted to go inside. He knew the doctor said light rest for the concussion and limited use of his arm but that didn't make Aizawa an invalid. Though he had only been standing for a few minutes, he collapsed onto the couch. 

Nezu and Nemuri plan quietly over his head while he caught his breath. They were planning on bringing him food and keeping the kids away from him for the rest of the week, which Aizawa was vehemently against and he told them so. 

By the time they'd come to the much more reasonable agreement that the kids could spend a couple of hours with Aizawa after lunch. He could eat dinner with the students as long as it wasn’t too strenuous for him, Aizawa was a much more tired, but a much more happy man. 

They all agreed that Aizawa shouldn't teach for at least two weeks and that Nezu could take over the classes for the rest of the week, and the next week Nemuri would take over.

Aizawa knew that the kids would behave for alternate teachers, but he worried about Scarecrow and if the kids would be able to keep him secret. 

It wasn't that Aizawa didn't trust Nemuri or Nezu–they were the two people that he trusted the most–but Scarecrow was more important to him. Well, not more important, but Aizawa knew that Nemuri would probably not react well, and while Nezu was the most intelligent individual that Aizawa knew, he didn't know how the older man would react. It was strange. It was weird. It was outside of the realm of the normal and mundane. 

And Aizawa wanted to keep it secret. 

But if he couldn't figure it out, what would he do?

He wasn't given a chance to dwell, as the kids chose that moment to barge into the house, and make themselves comfortable on the floor of the living room with dinner. 

A plate full of bland but healthy-looking food was placed in his lap by Momo, who took the spot next to him and pointed out everything on his dish while explaining why it was good for him and how it would help him heal. 

He looked up to find that Nemuri and Nezu had each been handed their own plates of bland but healthy-looking food. Nezu looked politely interested in Momo's explanation, but Nemuri looked pretty disgusted, though Aizawa knew she wasn’t going say a thing. Once Momo was done with her explanation. They all dug right in. 

The food tasted exactly how it looked. Aizawa recognized some of the food as things the kids had been growing, and while he was tired and still feeling sick, he decided to give the kids a chance to preen and asked where they got them. 

The kids burst into an explosion of noise, all of them talking at once.

He winced, knowing that Nemuri, Nezu, and half the students noticed. 

They shut up immediately and they nearly succeeded in being quieter. They still talked and told stories and told Aizawa how glad they were that he was okay. Sometimes they nearly strayed onto the topic of Scarecrow, but someone always caught it. Something which Aizawa was glad for, but he also wanted to know how Scarecrow was doing. If he'd been hurt too. 

When Aizawa finally finished his plate after an agonizing hour, Nemuri waited a few minutes before making a big show of the time and sending all the kids to bed. They said their goodbyes, and Momo and Izuku even gave him hugs, albeit much gentler than necessary, before leaving as well. The kids took the dishes with them and left the three adults in silence. 

Aizawa leaned his head back intending to rest his eyes, only to be gently woken by Nezu, who helped him upstairs. 

Nemuri met them there. The sheets were freshly changed and clean pajama bottoms waited for him. Nezu bid them goodnight and went to the bunkhouse to sort everything there. 

Nemuri waited until Aizawa admitted defeat to help him change his clothes, then his bandages. It wasn't the first time she'd had to help him because he'd hurt himself, and he'd helped her in return. Once she had him situated in the bed she changed too and joined him, careful to keep her weight off of his ribs and arms, but still holding him in place. He knew he wouldn’t move without waking himself up, but her being there would help keep him in place and also helped them both sleep better. 

When he woke up the next day, it was nearly lunchtime, and Nemuri was missing. 

Aizawa went downstairs to take his pain meds and scrounge up some food. 

He found everyone in the classroom, Nemuri too, discussing inaccuracies in crime dramas and how they could help with arrests. Aizawa smiled at them all.

When the class was done all the kids checked in on him before leaving.

Nemuri helped him with getting dressed before the adults sat down to eat. Then Aizawa was banished from doing any fun activities, but he did manage to convince Nemuri to let him read. 

That backfired when she found him working his way through one of the diaries and trying to take notes. 

All the books that Aizawa needed so he could fix Scarecrow were locked away in his office ‘for his own good.’ After that, the most he could get away with was playing on his phone and reading the pulp fiction that Nemuri had in her bag. 

Overall Nemuri was a good caregiver, she knew this and Aizawa knew this, but he needed to see if there was any way to help Scarecrow. 

Dinner was much the same, the only difference being that Aizawa ate a little faster and didn't get as tired as fast. The kids talked about everything under the sun and what they learned in class without him. Aizawa did his best to give his own input even though he was the one who wrote the lesson plan for the class. 

The kids watched him and before Nemuri or Nezu could send them away, they made the choice to head out, each making sure to tell Aizawa how much better he looked.

Nemuri crawled into bed after him again, asking him if there was anything that she could do to help, but all Aizawa wanted to do was read. 

He didn't tell her that, instead saying that he'd been meaning to go through the boxes around the upstairs. Jokingly he asked if she was willing to do the heavy lifting so he could start going through them instead of sitting around doing absolutely nothing. 

She laughed, agreeing to keep him from woundedly skulking around the house.

In the morning he awoke alone again, but he found Nezu in his office going over homework and lesson plans. They talked until Aizawa got too tired to stand, which wasn't long at all. Nezu helped him to sit at his desk while Nemuri helped with breakfast and the pain meds. 

Aizawa didn't regret spending his time going through the boxes until his head hurt too much to continue. What he did regret was not giving up earlier so he could spend dinner with the students. Nemuri tried to get him to eat before going to bed, but he couldn't. Nausea and dizziness left him feeling weak, and he knew the food would only make it worse. Even the pain meds, which would help, were pushed away, Aizawa knew they wouldn't be much help if he threw them up. 

When he woke up again his arm was on fire, despite how she was draped over him, Nemuri didn't wake when he jerked or when he finally rolled her off. He spent a few minutes leaning over the bedside, trying not to throw up from the pain, but there wasn't anything in his stomach anyway, so he dry heaved for what felt like hours. 

That hadn't woken Nemuri either, to his surprise. Aizawa dragged himself from the bed and then the room. Despite the nausea, he knew that he needed some to fight the inferno.

After he found and took some of the pain meds with only enough water to wash them down. He stumbled outside. The night air was cool, Aizawa relaxed at the dispersal of heat. 

His chair was cool too, though it wasn’t where he usually put it.

He tried not to think of anything as he waited for the pain to ease enough to go back to sleep. He tried to watch the stars, but they seemed to wave and shift and Aizawa closed his eyes instead. 

He didn't hear anyone approach, but the soft touch on his good arm roused him. 

Scarecrow watched his sluggish movements, concern painted onto every angle of his body. Aizawa smiled at him, but it wasn't much. His eyes drifted closed, and the scarecrow touched his arm again, signing something before Aizawa tried to sleep. Aizawa responded that he's gonna be okay, though he was certain that wasn’t what Scarecrow asked, it seemed to mollify him. Aizawa watched him closer, he could see and almost understand what the other was saying. He placed a hand over Scarecrow’s, promised that they were both going to be alright. Scarecrow was understandably confused, but Aizawa's pain had died enough to fall asleep in his chair, his hand held by Scarecrow. 

It was almost worth Nemuri's screeches of worry waking him. The students piled around to help him back to bed. Scarecrow was gone no matter which way he looked. If it weren't for the hum that he felt where the scarecrow had touched him, Aizawa would have been inclined to think it was a dream, conjured by pain and drugs and neverending exhaustion.

Aizawa slept a few more hours in his bed before he faced Nemuri's wrath to change his bandages and get something to eat. 

He did his best to behave for the rest of the day. No cleaning, no sorting, and no more reading than what he could do on his phone. If Nemuri was shocked or confused by this change of behavior she didn't show it.

At dinner, the kids asked about him sleeping outside, he gave a modified version.

Nemuri was mollified, but Nezu warned that a lot of animals could smell blood and that he should be careful lest some other animal smelled it and attacked him. Aizawa nodded but he knew that as long as Scarecrow was there, he would keep him safe. A small part of him that tried to deny it but his brain reminded him that Scarecrow had dealt with the coyotes on his own, and kept them from attacking the animals until Aizawa got there. No one had mentioned the animals being injured, Aizawa had to assume that none of the animals were injured after he'd arrived either.

The next day Nemuri allowed him to work at his desk for a while. He did his best, despite the slow-building headache that seemed determined to wipe him out, but he was able to figure with certainty the spellbooks didn't have anything useful to him. 

Nemuri checked on him while he was working. She didn't like it but she noticed the pained grimace on his face the third time through, and put her foot down on the fifth and forced him to stop for the day. He fought the banishment, but he was glad that someone else made the choice for him.

That and Nemuri could, and would, carry him out of the room if he tried to fight, and he didn't want to go through that again. 

If there weren't any answers in the spellbooks, then maybe the diaries? Aizawa hadn't planned to read through them more but he was fairly certain that they were all that remained of the witch's things that he could go through. He thought about it through the afternoon and at dinner. The students didn't seem to notice that he was distracted.

Or, if they did, they didn't comment.

The next day was the same, Aizawa got the diaries and lasted a little longer before Nemuri pulled the plug. Nezu announced that he'd be leaving to return to the city. Other pressing matters were at hand and they, unfortunately, required his touch. 

The day after he was out in the front yard saying goodbye to Nezu with the students. The older man had many words of advice for all the students, though he took care not to linger on any of them. He hugged Aizawa, and murmured in his ear to be careful, that the farm wasn't as important as making the smart choice, the right choice, for him and the students. 

Aizawa knew the look that Nezu gave him, though it'd been over a decade since he was on the receiving end. It told him that Nezu knew something, that he was waiting for Aizawa to make whatever he'd done, right.

He's going to make things right, soon. 

He went back to the office to find anything that could help, but, nothing.

The diaries had nothing to show as far as witchcraft or spells, no sign that this person was anything but normal. He read until Nemuri stopped him, then he laid on the couch and looked up everything he could relating to scarecrows and magic on his phone. 

He cast wide nets and only caught a couple of bad horror movies. 

He didn't mean to get sucked in, or to watch them, but they were highly entertaining. Even with his new ‘in love with the monster,’ problem.

Chapter Text

That night was the first night Aizawa dreamed. He dreamed of blue light and a tall man. The man was Scarecrow, he still had the burlap over his head but the old, dirty, weatherworn clothes were replaced with a clean pressed suit that grew and shrank, always matching the frame below it even if Aizawa had never seen that frame. Aizawa knew that the man beneath the burlap was human.

He reached up, up, up to grab to burlap and pull it away, only to be met with a grinning skull beneath. 

His scream died in his throat as he rocketed up and into wakefulness. Nemuri had moved at some point in the night and was no longer on him, still asleep.

Aizawa needed answers.

The diaries were in order, Aizawa pulled out the ones he hadn't read yet and started. 

Nothing.

Nothing. 

Nothing.

Each of the books was a big pile of nothing that couldn't help him or Scarecrow or anyone. He flipped through them looking for something, anything that could help but the diaries held nothing in them but the inane ramblings of a woman who was hiding all of herself.

Aizawa saw the pile dwindling and knew that there wasn't an answer in these books, but still he dug, he had to know. He couldn't risk missing the answer because he got impatient. 

The most recent one was only half-filled. Aizawa flipped through the diary, just to see if there was anything interesting in the back. 

Close to the end, there was some more writing. But it was written by someone else. The primary author of the diaries was a woman with very small but neat handwriting. Whoever wrote this last and nearly hidden entry had large and sloppy handwriting, like they didn’t write as much. 

The entry didn’t look too long. Cracking his neck and stretching Aizawa settled in once more to read the final entry, it’d be the last thing he read tonight.

It read:

I am not a religious man, but if I were I’d be sent to hell for what I’ve done and what I’ve allowed my wife to do. 

God has abandoned this wretched place. 

God had abandoned my wife. 

God has abandoned me. 

All for good reason, but it still hurts to think and to know. 

Or maybe God was never there. Because if The Almighty was real He’d never have let Nana get away with all she did. Not for so long. 

But maybe I am the vessel that God has acted through.

My wife committed so many terrible acts, and I committed the ultimate sin to punish her for it. 

I slept in the barn three nights ago. Nana and I fought, It was worse than any other time we’ve fought in our whole life together. I couldn’t make myself sleep in the same bed as her that night, just couldn’t. I went to the farm and I slept in the hayloft. Wasn’t the first time I’ve slept there after a fight, but it was the first Time I choose to sleep there. Instead of being sent. 

I woke with the sun just like I have near every morning of my whole life, I took care of the animals because they don’t deserve to suffer just because the missus and I aren’t on the same foot. 

There aren’t any farmhands this winter, we just didn’t do well enough this summer to keep any on yearround. 

That and I was worried for em. 

Nana and I make do every year. Even our lean years are still better off than some of our neighbors. We always have crops to sell, always have animals ready for butchering and plenty of food even if it’s just for the two of us. 

But in the lean years, where we didn’t make quite enough to satisfy her, those were the years followed by the worst springs. 

Usually, even in the lean years we keep a couple hands on, the ones who can work and aren’t likely to find any honest work anywhere else. 

The springs are the worst cause the Spring was always when one of the boys goes missing. 

Not missing. I know this now. I always knew this, I just didn’t wanna say anything before. 

I loved Nana with all my heart, but I don’t think she ever really had a heart to give me. 

I remember the last spring, that boy didn’t deserve anything that happened to him. He was a good kid, had a level head on his shoulders and was always quick to learn everything I had for him. If Nana hadn’t Killed him like she did If Nana hadn’t chosen him, I think he would have been my second hand by the end of the Summer. He didn’t deserve to be my Wife’s target . He definitely didn’t deserve what happened to him. 

My wife wasn’t always

My wife was the light of my life. She made me happier than any other man could dream of being for years. 

But she changed after a couple lean years. 

She spent all her time away from the farm, tried to get me to move to the City! I never would have made it in the City and I don’t know how a small town girl like her woulda thought she could make it there. We fought then, it was a cold winter and all we could do was take care of the animals and fight. 

she left one day to visit some of her relatives after one bad fight. I didn’t think she was coming back, and I think when she left she didn’t know if she’d be coming back either. 

But she did. 

She came back one day and acted as though she’d never left. Hell, she even acted as though we were never fighting in the first place! I’ll admit I was just so relieved she was back I decided not to ask too many questions. 

That Spring was the First Spring it happened.

She told me we needed lots of farm hands that year, she thought that our luck would turn around and soon and that we needed to be ready for it. 

I agreed with my Wife that luck was going to turn for us soon, but I wasn’t sure enough to bet hiring a bunch of folks before I needed them. 

 We fought after that too, but that was because she ignored my concerns and hired a bunch of hands anyway. They were for the most part good men who tended to either be down on their luck or too young and seeking their fortune in the world. My farm wasn’t the place they were going to find fame or fortune. But at least while they figured out where to go next they’d have a paying job and food on the table every night. 

I don’t remember the first boy’s name now, just that he had the strangest eyes. They were purple, like the lilacs that Nana grows near the house some years. And no matter which way he was looking the light always seemed to catch just right so that purple was about the only thing you could see. 

Nana hated him.

She thought she hid it well but I’d known her for years at that point and decades now and I know she hated him. 

I know her hatred of that poor boy is why she led the others to turn their backs on him, to make them hate him too, though he’d done nothing at all to deserve my Wife’s wrath or the other’s wrath. They tried to keep from me, but one boy can only trip into manure so many times accidentally before you realize something not right is afoot. 

I brought it up to Nana then, but she refused to acknowledge that there was anything wrong. 

The boy was young, he shouldn’t have been away from home. He shouldn’t have left his nest and maybe he wouldn’t be dead dead dead like so many others

Maybe he is alive though, maybe he did get away and maybe he did get to the City to start his life over. 

I remember the night. 

I remember though I’ve tried to forget. 

I remember Nana getting up in the middle of the night, in the light of the full moon, she got up from our marriage bed as naked as a baby and she left without a word to my questions. 

I would have run after her but I could hear the screams already.

I watched from the window as that poor boy was dragged from the hands house and drug into the fields. 

I watched as my beautiful bride wearing only moonlight stabbed that poor boy, and I watched as the others strung him up into a scarecrow. 

I only watched. 

I didn’t try to stop them. 

I didn’t try to help. 

I just watched.

That was the first time but it wasn’t the last.

The last time had to be the last. 

He was still so young, so kind to everyone even with everything they put him through. I told him to leave, I did I swear. As soon as the drought came I knew she was going to come after one of the boys again, and he was always a bit of an outsider with how tall he was. Didn’t matter a lick to me if he was so damn tall, he worked hard and was always ready to lend a hand. 

He was a good kid. A good man. He was going to do amazing things I’m sure, had my wife not Killed him like a lamb for sacrifice. I shoulda just left her and took the kid with me.

The boy’s been strung up for years now, whatever witchcraft that my Wife has done has made the farm prosperous for nearly half a decade now, but this kast Summer was lean and my Wife has never stood for lean years.

I sent all the farmhands away this year. Before my wife could 

I sent them away, before my wife could twist them like she twisted so many others. She was a good, kind, caring woman once. I don’t know what happened. 

I sent them all away.

They were all gone.

All safe from my wicked Bride. 

I wasn’t safe from her, but I don’t think she would have ever tried to hurt me. 

We were alone on the farm all winter, the first time in years. Nana wasn’t happy, but she had no one to try to turn me against or against me. We didn’t fight except that once all Winter. And that one fight was bad enough I choose to sleep in the barn instead of next to my Wife of so many years. 

I woke with the sun and took care of the animals because they didn’t deserve to be ignored just because my Wife and I were on bad terms. 

I was cleaning out the stalls when Nana came in. 

She was angry, from the fight the day before and because I didn’t join her in our bed that night. 

She followed me around the barn as I tried to take care of the animals, yelling and hollering as only a woman seems able to. 

She stopped when I told her I knew what she had done with those poor boys, I don’t know what about it stopped her. She had to have known that I knew. But she was surprised and it stopped her in her tracks. 

I told her I knew everything.

I knew that she had twisted some against one. 

I knew she had killed those boys and strung them up.

I knew that she had turned from God and turned to Devil’s Worship.

She told me it was for us, for the farm, for our future. 

But how could killing people -good, honest, hardworking people- be worth it? 

We had never really wanted, we always had enough, I don’t know what she was thinking. I still don’t. 

I don’t think that I ever will. 

My Wife, my Beautiful Bride, my Nana.

I know she wasn’t the same woman I fell in love with so many, many years ago. But hearing her try to justify killing multiple men over the years. I was looking into the eyes of a perfect stranger. 

She stepped right up to me, and I stepped away, this wasn’t someone I trusted. She may have worn the sky blue dress Nana loved, she may have smelt of the sweet vanilla perfume my wife so loved, her voice was as sweet, as strong as the woman I loved. But this version of the woman I loved was completely unknown, how could I trust her?

I hit her. 

Not with my hands, but with the shovel in them. 

I hit her with my shovel, and she fell to the ground. 

She didn’t move. 

She wasn’t breathing.

She was dead, and I killed her

My Wife was dead. 

There was no blood. 

There was blood when she killed the men.

There was blood when I killed the animals for us.

There was no blood when Alianna died. 

Aizawa flipped through the rest of the diary, but there wasn’t anything after.

Whoever the man was, whoever Nana was, whoever the scarecrow was, there were no answers here. Not the ones he was looking for anyway. 

Even in the diaries, the version of the person put forward obviously wasn’t the same as the person who really existed. None of Nana’s diaries had mentioned the apparently very brutal separation and then murder of anyone. 

Then again it wouldn’t.

Aizawa rubbed his eyes and set the diary aside. 

He shouldn’t have read that, he should have just left it for tomorrow. Everything in the diary would just lead to at best strange dreams and at worst some bad nightmares. 

Looking out the window, Aizawa could just make out the glow from Scarecrow’s eyes near the barn. He let his eyes wander. 

The last entry mentioned that he could see Nana kill the first man from the bedroom window. This was the master bedroom, he could probably see the murder site (murder sites?). 

He couldn’t help but look for signs. The murders would have been decades ago, he searched the land for any sign of the deaths, but the ground was just dirt paths and crops reaching for the skies.

Aizawa pulled his gaze from the window, he’s got to sleep sometime tonight. 

He moved the diaries back to the chest and dropped on the bed.

He laid there, the weight of his exhaustion tugged him flat, leaving him too heavy to even bother pulling the blankets onto himself. 

Chapter Text

Headache wasn’t the word for what Aizawa felt waking up. 

Yes, there was the familiar pounding behind his eyes. The weakness and immediate aversion to light. Nausea made itself known as he levered himself upright. His arm was aching and he had to wonder if losing it would have been less pain or more. 

But he could ignore it, it was just physical. That diary from the night before was the last that Aizawa had to get through. He needed to figure out where to look next. 

If he’s going to find a ritual, he wasn’t going to find it in these books. 

Aizawa thought it was logical, that if you're going to learn how to do something you should probably make sure you could undo it as well. So the way to undo it should be in the book.

But it wasn’t in this book. 

It wasn’t in any of the books. 

He needed to fix this. If these books didn’t have what he was looking for then he’d have to find it somewhere else.

But he couldn't dive into the search again yet, Nemuri would probably kill him, and he was already on the tail end of the pain medication that he had taken. He needed some caffeine. He’d spent hours researching when he should have been sleeping.

Though there were two coffee makers on the premises, it always felt like there wasn’t enough coffee. He was usually up earlier than most of the teens and had sole access to the coffeepot first thing, but as soon as breakfast was over it was like the kids could sense there was coffee that Aizawa wanted and they always drank the last of it. Since he’d been injured this had been even worse because Aizawa was certain that Nemuri actually got the last of it to spite him. 

The medications he was on said it was safe to have moderate caffeine intake, still, Nemuri argued and refused to let him have any. He didn’t just want it because he was exhausted. He was pretty certain that Nemuri was evil and only here to make him suffer in the forms of caffeine withdrawal and inability to go out. 

Which was all he really wanted right now. 

He was hurting and tired, and he really just wanted to talk to Scarecrow. 

And he wanted some goddamn coffee. 

When Aizawa dragged his corpse downstairs, he found that the house was conspicuously silent and empty and half a pot of still warm coffee was sitting in the kitchen. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Aizawa prepared a cup for himself while wondering at how there could be so many caffeine addicts under one, well, two roofs.

Aizawa didn't recall this many teens having caffeine addictions when he was in high school. Then again he’d had a bad caffeine addiction in high school so maybe he wasn't aware enough to see other people desperately slurping at coffee like he did. 

The kids were doing some team-building trust exercises, led by Nemuri outside.

He watched, laughing when Izuku exuberantly helped Denki stand and pushed him right over the other direction.

The kids were in good hands. While Nemuri probably wouldn’t ever settle down, she was a fantastic teacher and the kids loved her right off the bat. 

Aizawa wanted to join, but knew with his state, he shouldn’t go out there and play the games. But maybe he could convince the students to teach him, to teach him and Scarecrow, once he didn’t have to stay in a semi-hidden, nearly alone state. 

He couldn’t imagine the other’s face, but he knew that he would love to play the silly trust games. 

----------

Aizawa knew that it was only a matter of time before Nemuri left. He wasn’t too concerned about it, the kids were good kids, and he still had plenty of time to prepare for the classes and he knew that when, not if, he struggled that the kids would help out.

In a better, more perfect world Nemuri would be able to stay to help out with the kids, they could trade off on duties, Aizawa could spend evenings with the kids and with Scarecrow and he could figure everything out. But it wasn’t perfect, and everything was a guessing game. 

He turned to the internet looking for answers. He looked up the witch, and other than some spook pieces and a couple of amateur ghost hunts there wasn’t anything that Aizawa could use. 

He looked for anything that might tell him, well, anything. But everything came up blank. 

Aizawa changed the parameters, maybe something with just a blood ritual will work.

Too much! 

Thousands of results showed for blood rituals, but none of them close. All of them looked like weird new-age stuff anyway. Things people made up and post that other people agreed with and played along with without asking questions.

He changed the parameters again, and again there was nothing there that could help. Too detailed, nothing showed up, less detailed, too much showed up. 

A different combination. Nothing.

Another combination, more parameters, different parameters, and another combination, a different set of parameters. The words changed but they still told him nothing. He kept trying. 

Another list.

Nothing, no results. 

He was ready to take a break when the stack of diaries and spellbooks caught his eye. The worst of them was still under the flour downstairs, but it gave him an idea. 

Finally, Aizawa looked up the name of the spellbook. There were a few things that looked right. They were small things, but a starting point. 

It was a lot more promising than any of the other things he'd found. Looking through each of the hits, opening new tabs for each of them, Aizawa felt like someone looking over a woven rug for loose threads. He was looking for loose threads that would bring him back to the source. That would lead to an answer.

So Aizawa looked through each thing and tugged at any loose strings. Most lead nowhere, they were completely alone, and when tugged came loose with nothing at the ends. 

He searched through the small hits for hints of an answer. He fell down rabbit holes. Each hinted and played at having an answer until it reached a sudden stop and he had to move to the next string. 

Finally, something gave and there at the end, was an answer.

Not the one that he's looking for, but it was a lead.

He tugged on it more. It took some time and a handful more sites until it lead to an archived conversation thread, but the question at the top was about the book in question. 

The thread was full of questions. It actually seemed to be made up entirely of questions. There were some answers, but not as many.

He gathered each of the books were a little different. The direct quotes are slightly different. Some of the spells are different or vary slightly. 

Near the bottom he finds a mention of the specific spell, the worst spell, that Aizawa  thought was used on Scarecrow.

They mentioned a problem with the spell. 

Aizawa read over their comment again and again with the horror that this person, who had written this comment was likely still alive, and had tried or successfully killed someone to complete a ritual that they didn't even know would work. The comment was inane, complaining the scarecrow they had made wasn’t a quiet docile thing they’d been promised.

Aizawa's spellbook left that part out. There was no promise of docility. There wasn't anything at all about a change in behavior or loyalty. 

There was only one response, edited to say that they were sorry. If there were other responses, they were long gone, deleted or removed. 

There might have been an answer here, but no more. 

The dates reveal that most of the remaining messages were five years old or older, and most of the accounts have been deactivated or deleted. 

He took a chance and sent messages to every person who had commented on fixes or other things in the book’s thread. Asked if they could reverse it, if they knew how, if their books had an answer his didn't. 

He waits, a moment, then realized it was stupid for him to expect an answer so soon. 

The kids were waiting for him downstairs. 

The kids were happy to talk about everything that Nemuri had taught and shown them. And, just as Aizawa had suspected, Nemuri told them all that it was time for her to return home too.

The kids were sad but glad to return to something like normalcy. 

The next morning he checked online, finding that one of the people he messaged answered him. It’s a brief message and it’s obvious that the person hadn’t actually read his message.

“Yes I still have the book, I’m not selling it.” 

Aizawa looked at the message, it was a couple hours old at this point, but it was still a response. That’s also not really the question that he asked, but it was an opening, he could work with that. 

Aizawa debated before coming up with, “I’m really not interested in buying anymore copies of this book. As I wrote in my first message I’m looking for a way to reverse one of the spells and since my copy of Quam ad Imperium Sanguis doesn’t seem to have anything to reverse, any of the spells, I was hoping that someone on the thread about the Quam ad Imperium Sanguis might have something in their copy.”

Aizawa didn’t have to wait, he got a response to the message immediately.

“The best thing you can do with that book is burn it and toss the ashes off the closest cliff you can find.”

“I would love to do that.” Aizawa sent quickly. He sighed and wrote more. “And I fully plan to as soon as I can. But someone else has used the book on my property, and I would like to reverse the spell instead of following through. If you still have your book will you help me? Please?”

“Which one?” Again the response was immediate.

“The one that has left me with a walking talking semi-alive scarecrow on my farm. Do you know how to reverse it?”

“Holy shit” A second later.

“Really?” 

“When was it cast?” All sent before Aizawa could start typing. 

“I’m not sure. The person I believe cast the spell died at least 80 years ago, but it may have been longer.” Aizawa sent back.

“You need to get away while you still can!” was the speedy response. 

Aizawa found himself confused. He rubbed at his aching arm, careful of the stitches that were still embedded in his flesh. Despite his initial fear and wariness of Scarecrow, the man had proven himself safe to be around. 

“While I understand your concern, and while I was afraid of the Scarecrow initially, he’s long since proved himself a kind and caring individual. He wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“What?” Was the quick and less than eloquent response.

“The scarecrow, he doesn't remember who he was before.” Aizawa wrote, and when there was no immediate response he added.

“But he’s not a monster. He’s kind, and he cares for everyone here. He would sooner die than let one of the kids get hurt.” Aizawa knew this in his heart, even if the stranger may have thought differently.

“There are some communication problems, but they’re being dealt with.” The person responds to the last message before Aizawa could articulate his next thought.

“You can communicate with it? That should be impossible!” 

“One of my students taught it sign language, it leapt at the chance to communicate with people again.” He told the stranger, though the information weren’t necessary for them to help him figure anything out. 

“You taught it sign language” 

“Yeah, he just wanted to be understood, didn’t want people to be afraid of him.” He explained. 

“And the scarecrow, he’s never threatened you?” He was about to answer when the person sent the next question.

“Hurt you or your kids?” 

“No, I think I’ve threatened it more than the reverse.” He told them truthfully.

“Why did you contact me?” Aizawa needed their help. Or at least their answers.

“I want” He hit the enter key too early. He wanted a lot, but he what would he say?

“I want to fix it. I want to reverse what’s been done to him so he has at least a chance at being human. At having the life that was taken from him.”

Aizawa stared at the person’s icon, a little ‘E’ just floating in a circle. There wasn’t an indication that they were typing anything. Aizawa waited. A few seconds. A minute. Two. Ten.

Nemuri popped her head in to tell Aizawa that she was leaving, Aizawa followed her down the stairs to her little car. 

The kids were apparently waiting for both of them, they waited for her to toss her bag into her car before they piled on for hugs. Aizawa grinned at the hugs that Nemuri received, glad that his students liked her. 

When the kids finished their goodbyes Aizawa pulled her close to say his own. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can if you need me to.” She murmured in his ear. 

He thought about it, he’s definitely not up to par, and he’s still too weak to really leave the house. He probably did still need her help. If he asked, Nemuri would have a reason in ten minutes about why she absolutely had to stay as long as he needed her. She’d even spin it like she wanted, or needed to be here, and that Aizawa would just have to put up with her. but Aizawa wanted to see Scarecrow. The man had been forced to hide and he knew that the scarecrow deserved to be able to come out and spend time with the kids.

Aizawa hugged her a little tighter, she was one of his oldest friends and as much as it pained him to send her away, he needed her to go. He pulled back and, reluctantly, she did too. “No, you should go, but don’t be afraid to visit.” 

“Fine, I guess you were right, this place wasn’t quite as terrible as I imagined.” She smiled bringing a hand up to gently trace the bottom of the bandage covering most of his cheek, “Just remember, you got a lot of people who care about you, it’s okay to ask for help.” 

Aizawa smiled at her, though it pulled at the slowly healing flesh of his face, “I’ll try to be better about that.” 

They hugged again, not as long or as tight as the first hug, but just as full of love.

Nemuri dropped into her car and yelled a last goodbye to Aizawa and the teens before driving away. Together they watch until the car drove out of sight. 

The silence that had settled over the group was broken by a stomach loudly rumbling. 

Aizawa huffed a laugh as the kids roared with laughter, Uraraka sheepishly suggested lunch. 

Walking to the bunkhouse, Kirishima and Tenya flanked Aizawa, though the boys at least pretended like they were trying to be subtle.

Lunch was leftovers, with the kids asking Aizawa questions about his friendship with Nemuri. He tried to avoid thinking about if the person had responded yet, but he wasn’t successful. 

At one point he roused to the story of Kirishima's name and adoption; the boy apparently was named for the mountain his mothers’ had climbed when they heard they were getting custody. 

Aizawa smiled at the obvious joy the students shared as they shared their own stories. He did his best to listen. 

Flanked by Izuku -who claimed that he had left his phone on the porch earlier- and Bakugou -who said that he wanted to make sure that he hadn’t left his homework in his desk in the classroom- the walk to the farmhouse was quiet as the two boys were lost in their thoughts. 

Aizawa took a break in the living room, the walk had winded him more than he wanted to admit, though it wasn’t anywhere as bad as two weeks before. The boys went about their made-up tasks. Bakugou disappeared into the classroom for about two seconds while Izuku searched the porch for the phone that Aizawa could clearly see was in his pocket.

As soon as Bakugou was ‘done’ with his task he left.

Izuku popped his head in, “Hey, before I go I just wanted to ask if there was anything you wanted before I left?” 

Aizawa considered, “Will you grab my laptop out of my office? I think that the couch would be a better place to work for the time being.” 

Izuku nodded, and was back in short order. He handed off the laptop and charger, pausing only to plug them in before leaving.

The laptop booted slowly the second time around, or maybe it was Aizawa's impatience making it feel that way, but the seconds dragged on like hours as it slowly whirred to life. By the time’s got the chat pulled up, he’s about ready to start ripping out his hair.

He scanned down the chat history only to find the newest reply at the bottom, seconds old. 

“I don’t think I can help you.” The only reason Aizawa didn’t bang his head against the wall was that it would require him getting up.

“That checks out. This was a long shot anyway, but thank you for getting back to me so soon.” He responded instead of any of the less helpful things he’d rather say.

He was about to close the laptop when it dinged again. “I was going to say, I don’t think I can help you with this, but I think I can point you to someone who can.”

“Sorry for interrupting. Please!” He wrote back quickly.

“You're going to call Micheal at this number and tell them what you told me. They helped another person with a similar situation. I don’t know if the answer to that situation will be the same as this one.” 

“Thank you, for this. Thank you for not calling me crazy and thank you for pointing me in the right direction.” he told the person, so genuinely thankful.

“Of course, good luck fixing it.” 

Seconds after he wrote down the number the account was deactivated.

Chapter Text

Aizawa managed to avoid calling the number he’d been given. 

First, he tried to contact the other people on the forum thread, but still no results.

He got a call from Hizashi wanting to make sure that Luna was on the road safe. 

And after that the kids were a revolving door of things that needed Aizawa's input. 

Finally, the kids gave him some peace before dinner. Aizawa grabbed the book and his laptop, and locked himself away on the back porch. It saved him the hassle of going upstairs, and it wasn’t somewhere the students knew he sequestered himself.

Aizawa held his phone with the number typed in. He would deny feeling scared. Sure, his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and his knees were wobbly, but he wasn’t scared. 

He could feel it, this would change everything. 

The phone rang and rang. 

Aizawa did his best to wet his suddenly dry mouth as he waited for the click indicating someone had picked up.

“Hello?” A surprisingly airy voice said eventually. 

“Excuse me? Is this Kurogiri?” Aizawa asked after a few unsuccessful attempts. 

“This is him. Who’s asking?” The man on the other end of the phone sounded cautious but curious. 

“This is Aizawa Shouta, I was given your number by a person who said you could help me with my problem.”

“Well, Mr. Aizawa that really depends on your problem.” The man, Kurogiri, replied. 

“I’ve got a copy of this book of blood magic from at least a hundred years ago-” Aizawa told him only to be cut off.

“Well, I suggest you get rid of it at your earliest convenience,” Kurogiri said nonchalantly. 

“Your friend told me that too, but the problem right now isn’t the book.” He could hear the bite in his words and took a deep breath. He was asking for help here, best not to alienate the person. “The problem is that there is a living scarecrow that is on my farm and I want to reverse the ritual that was done to him.”

“You want to reverse it?” The curiosity was back, with a hint of skepticism. 

“Yeah, reverse it. The scarecrow, he didn’t deserve what was done to him, he should have a chance at a normal human life. I want to give that to him.” Aizawa told Kurogiri, hoping he’d understand the desire.

“Did you know him when he was human?” Kurogiri asked.

Aizawa's not sure what that has to do with anything. “There’s no way that I could have, he was a sacrificed at least fifty years before I was even born.” 

“Then why do you feel so intent on saving him?” Kurogiri asked, “It would be quicker and easier to simply finish the ritual and be done with it all.” 

“Because I don’t want to just ‘finish the ritual!’ I want to fix this! I want to help Scarecrow so he’s not stuck in this permanent place of pain and impossible communication. He deserves better and if you can’t help me just say so so I can find someone who actually can help me!” He snapped, tired from being constantly told what to do and being blocked at all angles.

“Touchy touchy,” Kurogiri said, and Aizawa's irritation turned to rage. “I never said I couldn’t help you, I just said it would be easier to finish the ritual. You care an awful lot about a monster.”

“He’s not a monster. The woman that did this to him is.” Aizawa knew this man wasn’t his enemy, but it didn’t subside the rage. 

“Fair enough.” Kurogiri laughed, then became deathly serious. “It’s going to take some time for me to drum up the information you’re looking for.”

“How long?” 

“I’m not sure, but I should tell you now, if this scarecrow has been in the midst of that ritual for this long, there a good chance that he won’t survive it.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” The rage was gone.

“I mean, not to say anything about how old you are, but I’m assuming that scarecrow has been stuck mid-ritual for a minimum of three quarters of a century, longer probably. Being part of a ritual is physically draining. Being the focus of the ritual is incredibly draining.”  Kurogiri paused, as though thinking, and the silence from the other end of the phone was absolutely deafening to Aizawa. “But being in the middle of a ritual, one that should have been completed within weeks but hasn’t been in decades. There’s no telling what kind of side effects could occur. At the very least, the ritual you’re talking about is to suspend someone on the brink of death, he’ll have been wounded very, very badly to bring him to that point. If he survives the second ritual, he’s going to be in bad, bad shape. There’s a good chance that he won’t survive his injuries even if the ritual goes well.”

“If- Do you think I should go through with this?” Aizawa wanted to give Scarecrow a chance at life, but he had thought that reversing the ritual would reverse the damage too, but if it didn’t? What would he do?

“I can’t make that choice. I don’t know what will happen to your scarecrow if you complete the ritual and I don’t know what will happen if you try to reverse it. I can tell you how to finish the ritual and I can find the ritual to reverse it, but I can’t make the choice for you.” Kurogiri told him, nothing hinting at the man’s real opinion.

“Thank you for the help,” Aizawa said, all rage and anger and irritation gone out of him. 

“Of course. Your email?” The man said, his tone business as usual, and Aizawa told him.

After his own moment of silence Aizawa told the stranger. “Hey, uh, thank you, again, for sending this to me. For helping a complete stranger help another complete stranger.” 

“I was in a similar situation for a couple of years a while back,” Kurogiri explained, pausing before making his own request. “If you could, find the time to call or email me or something when you’re done, I want to hear how it goes. If you succeed, and if he lives, I want to hear about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Aizawa told him, “Thank you again, take care.”

“You too.”

The line went dead, Aizawa looked at the black face of his phone. 

The man said he would help, that he would find a way to reverse the spell. Now all Aizawa had to do was wait. 

He could do that, couldn’t he?

Chapter Text

Aizawa went through the motions, dinner, bed, the few things that he could do on his own.

The next morning his chores were shared between the teens, each swapping jobs and mixing with their usual chores to keep him from having to do much. Aizawa was left alone for most of the morning and really, the rest of the day. Every now and then someone would drop by, pretending they’re not just checking that he’s alive.

He assumed Nemuri was to blame. 

Hours passed in a fugue, the day, night, and next day, and day after. 

They passed and didn’t, until he got an email with the information he was looking for.

But was it really the information that he’s looking for? Aizawa stared at the unopened email, unsure if he should open it. If he wanted to. 

It could be the fast track to everything. It could be nothing. It could be a twisted ritual that could harm Scarecrow or the kids or even Aizawa. Was he willing to take that risk? 

Would Scarecrow even want him to? 

Would Aizawa if the tables were turned?

He wasn’t sure how long he spent staring at the closed email when Uraraka came to check on him. She caught him staring at the email, unopened, and made the executive decision it was time for him to join them at the bunkhouse. Any protests Aizawa might have had were quickly and loudly talked over, and in short order, they were headed to the bunkhouse.

Bakugou was cooking, dinner looked a long way off from being edible.

Aizawa entertained himself by repeatedly telling Bakugou to pour most of the spices back in the bottle so everyone could eat. Despite the speed at which he was cutting and keeping the meal moving, Bakugou found the time to flip Aizawa off whenever he gave the obviously unwanted advice. In spite of that, Bakugou did follow Aizawa's suggestions, which the man counted as a win.

Much to Bakugou's irritation, dinner was a rousing success. Everyone got seconds without going for thirds and fourths of the milk. The kids all thank him for cutting back on the spices, and he told them all where to shove it. 

Dinner was spent with the kids talking about how excited they were about everything growing, and how excited they were for the next farmer’s market and harvest later on. 

Aizawa tried to pay attention, but he noticed the edge of a stain on the table and wondered if he should replace it.

He went back to the office after dinner, opening the email with the ritual in it, two rituals. 

The two the man mentioned.

Aizawa looked between the two rituals, though he already knew what they were. 

One completed the ritual that was already done. 

The other would hopefully reverse the spell, and make Scarecrow human again.

Aizawa read over each of the rituals. The one to complete the ritual was terribly straightforward, it wouldn’t take much work and it could be done at any point. The other required so much more, love, a specific time, a closed circle, more blood. He read over the drawbacks and benefits of each one and hated himself for even considering the first. He hated that it would be so easy, but it would cause Aizawa and Scarecrow and the kids so much pain. He didn’t want to cause any of them more pain, not if he could avoid it. 

Aizawa had thought he’d known fear, thought he’d known terror was like, but as he read over the things that could go wrong, he knew he hadn’t, not really. 

He wanted to believe that nothing could go wrong and that Scarecrow would be fine, but Kurogiri had painstakingly painted out what appeared to be every possible outcome could be.

The odds were high that Scarecrow wouldn’t survive if they went through with this. If they didn’t then Scarecrow could be stuck in this state, possibly forever. Scarecrow’s been in this state for close to a hundred years. Aizawa had no way of knowing if he would want to risk permanent death for a fix that might not work.

He read it over again, once, twice, thrice. The words blurred together. 

This wasn’t his choice. 

He slipped outside.

There wasn’t anyone that he’s hiding from, but he hadn't seen the scarecrow in weeks. Aizawa needed to see him, needed to know the other’s thoughts. He needed to know if Scarecrow wanted this, if he would want to go through with it. 

Aizawa couldn’t remember if he took the pain meds he was supposed to after dinner but the growing burning sensation said no. There were parts of his arm that he was certain that he couldn’t feel anymore, lost to nerve damage, but somehow that didn't bother him. A small upside to the pain that he felt. He knew it wasn’t a good thing, but when most of the movements of his arm were enough to have him wincing and tugging the injured arm close to his chest, it was better than feeling. 

The scarecrow wasn’t anywhere that Aizawa could see him from the front porch. Feeling a bit like a naughty student Aizawa snuck across the flat fields. 

He could walk across the fields normally if he wanted, the kids were either actually in bed or at least had all the lights off, and it’s not like they would probably say anything. Probably. 

They could be little shits when they wanted to be. 

His pace to the other side of the barn was slow, as he carefully walked and stopped to make sure he’d be able to make it all the way there and hopefully back without help. The weakness he felt all over was ridiculous.

The scarecrow’s perch had been set up on the other side of the barn, just where Aizawa thought it was. The scarecrow was sitting on the ground, leaning against the barn. Aizawa wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or stargazing, but it felt rude to interrupt. 

He sat near the scarecrow, leaning back against the barn. In his peripherals, Aizawa could see his chest moving slowly, like breathing. If Scarecrow noticed him, he didn't do anything.

Aizawa can really see the absolute vastness and brightness of the stars without any lights from the house or bunkhouse. The sight a welcome distraction from the conversation that he knew they needed to have. 

Later, minutes if not hours later, Scarecrow waved a hand in front of Aizawa's face to get his attention. Aizawa appreciated the other’s efforts to not scare the shit out of him, but the hand suddenly appearing still scared him. If he hadn’t been forced to stand, Aizawa's fairly certain he would have run back to the house as fast as he could. 

But the hand was Scarecrow’s so instead he coughed and moved back to where he had been sitting next  to Scarecrow. He seemed a little confused, but didn’t say anything.

Scarecrow waited until Aizawa was resettled, and then signed, How-are-you-doing? You-heal-well? 

When Aizawa took a minute to recuperate. 

Scarecrow continued, Coyotes-dead-none-on-farm. Safe. Promise.

A small smile crawled onto Aizawa's face when Scarecrow signed, Promise. 

He wanted to tell Scarecrow that he wasn’t worried about the coyotes. But instead, he said, “I’m healing, it’s taking a lot longer than I want it to, but I’m healing. Were you hurt? I wasn’t and really haven’t been in any shape to ask you myself, but I need to know.” 

Scarecrow tilted his head a little, and Aizawa got the feeling that the other was smiling, No. Coyotes-small-slow-many. You-save-me-animals. Got-hurt.

With that, he slowly, with massive but gentle hands, reached out to touch the bandages on his face. 

Aizawa stopped himself from leaning into it. While he may have figured out how he feels, he didn’t need to make that the other’s problem. 

He tried to answer. To say anything, but the words get caught in his mouth. The closeness, minimal and one-sided as it was, was enough to turn off his brain. 

Scarecrow watched him as he stuttered and fails to produce anything meaningful. Scarecrow asked him what’s wrong. Taking his hand away from Aizawa's face to ask.

It’s enough for Aizawa to pull himself together and he pulled away from Scarecrow. He murmured, something. The words that passed his lips were probably explanations about being tired, but he’s thinking about the rituals now. 

The rituals were the whole reason that he’d come out here. 

The small space he scooted away, maybe four inches, maybe three, maybe two, wasn’t a lot, but it’s enough for Aizawa to gather some strength. 

He asked, “Would you ever want to be human again, if you had the chance?”

Scarecrow was confused. It was plain to see even with his burlap-covered face. It was written into the lines of his body and the pause of his movements.

Aizawa pressed, “If you could be human, again, one day, would you want to?”

Scarecrow was hesitant, but he brought up his hands again anyway, If-I-could. I-want-to.

He nodded at the scarecrow’s response, he couldn’t say he didn’t expect that. “What if there was a chance you’d die?”

This lead to more confusion from Scarecrow who was again silenced.

“What if you could be human, but there was a chance making you human again would kill you?”

Scarecrow looked at Aizawa, really looked are him, before signing, Very-specific-Shouta. Why-ask?

Aizawa panicked, more than he was already, and blurted, “It’s theoretical.”

Meaning? Scarecrow signed, either not having heard the word before or not remembering its meaning.

“Theoretical means it only exists in theory,” Aizawa paused, deciding what to tell Scarecrow. “I don’t know if there’s actually a way to make you human again, but, I want to know if you’d rather stay like you are now, or take a chance and risk death.”

Scarecrow didn’t move to answer Aizawa's question. Aizawa waited, but then Scarecrow looked up at the sky.

Aizawa wondered if the other didn’t hear him or if he was just not answering.

“Scarecrow?” He prodded. 

He looked at Aizawa but still didn’t answer. Aizawa imagined that he could see emotions in the glow of the other’s eyes, but... 

He couldn’t. All the tells he would have been given were hidden.

“Do you know which you’d rather?” Aizawa asked, sure that the other was looking at him.

No. This-life-is-not-living, not-like-you-do. I-live-looking-into-void, feel-no-end-pain. Wound-should-have-kill-me-I-don’t-know-if-I-want-face-that-again. Scarecrow’s hands moved with a deliberateness that told Aizawa he had been thinking of exactly what he wanted to say for a while, and this probably didn’t even cover everything that he was thinking, but he dropped his hands.

Aizawa's horror had been growing, but he’d had no idea that the pain could be carried on. “It still hurts you?” 

Yes. Scarecrow signed, leaning back against the barn with a sigh.

“What if returning to human meant that the wound would heal?” Aizawa asked, hoping that Scarecrow could see the possible upside.

What-if-I-face-void-and-not-leave? Scarecrow asked him.

Aizawa didn't know how to answer. There weren’t any good answers to that, and Aizawa feared it too. 

They sat in silence. 

Two men, both pained by their wounds, but one was healing and the other wouldn’t. Where one’s pain was disappearing over time the other was always pained. Aizawa's was temporary, but Scarecrow’s wasn’t. 

He leaned against the barn and beat the words he wanted to say back into his chest. He wanted to say that it wasn’t theoretical, it’s real. That he loved Scarecrow and wanted a chance to be with him. Aizawa couldn’t force that burden on Scarecrow. 

There was a chance that the ritual might work. There’s a chance that Scarecrow could one day care for him back, but the chances of both were slim, and together slimmer. 

Lost in his thoughts, the stars moved across the sky, the stiffness from his lack of movement increased, when Aizawa moved, the rictus pain that sparked through his entire body was enough to jolt him and leave him gasping.

If this was enough to cripple him, how much pain was Scarecrow in all the time?

Scarecrow, of course, noticed and made him go back to the house. Once he was certain that Aizawa was going to go back he signed to the teacher, If-there-was-chance-I’d-take-it.

Chapter Text

Aizawa revisited, then reread, then reread again. He was not going to finish the ritual. He’s not going to force Scarecrow into the void when there was even a chance for life. He had the spell, but he couldn’t get it wrong. 

There was no space, no time, no second chances. 

He had to get it right.

The ritual had to happen on the full moon. That was something he could plan around. Of course there was one a week out. A week could be enough time. He can do this. 

The ritual required a circle and needed at least two other people. But who was he going to ask for help? Who could he ask for help?

Even then, it might not really be up to him. The ritual needed multiple people who care about the scarecrow. The kids were going to have to be involved, whether Aizawa wanted them to be or not. 

There was so much that could go wrong. 

He was going to have to make sure that the kids would be able to help him, would even want to. This could be disastrous, but it could save Scarecrow from further pain and suffering.

How could Aizawa prepare the kids? He could sit them down and explain his plan, explain he needed their help. He could spell it out for them in excruciating detail and give them the odds that have been floating around his own head. They were old enough to understand life and death. 

They had already seen what happened to Aizawa, the mess of his arm and what happened to his face and what happened to the coyotes. 

Izuku had to have told all of them what Scarecrow had told him. They probably knew about Scarecrow’s halflife state. They would help.

There was very little they’d have to do. Mostly just be there. 

They would just have to care for the Scarecrow and be present with whatever positive emotions that they felt. 

That would be hard. Hard for him, hard for them. The whole ritual needed them to be unafraid and there for each other. But even knowing just what could go wrong was terrifying by itself. That could be enough to ruin the whole ritual. The kids would have to fight their fears and Aizawa would have to fight his. 

Aizawa was the last to arrive for dinner. 

The kids already seemed more solemn, and thoughtful than usual, or maybe Aizawa was projecting, but they were quiet when Aizawa took his seat at the table and quiet while the food was served. 

When he asked for their attention they gave it to him. 

Truth was the best policy, so Aizawa told them everything. A modified version of what happened to Scarecrow. What it would take to fix him. He told the students. The kids. His kids, somewhere along the way became his. Eight pale faces looked back at him. Aizawa expects tears, and those he’s got. He expected disbelief, but there’s not as much of that. He asked them if they would help, knowing that it might not work, that it could go wrong. Eight pale and sick and angry faces looked back at him and each of them agreed. 

Fear and pride filled Aizawa's chest in equal measure as he looked at his kids

He didn’t know what was going to happen, or really how, or why. Aizawa knew he needed the kids' help if there was any chance of giving Scarecrow a normal, human life. He told them, that it was all chance, all a risk, a risk that could kill Scarecrow. A risk that could hurt them. Or it could be that gives Scarecrow the chance that he needs for a real life.

Aizawa made sure that the kids knew they didn’t have to, that they shouldn’t feel forced, that no one would think less of them, but even as he said it he could see in their faces that they’re all going to help. 

There’s unanimous agreement. All of them immediately bristled at the thought that they couldn’t or wouldn’t help. All of them wanted to, and the kids asked what needed doing. 

No hesitation.

The food on the table was growing cold but no one touched it. Mina and Kirishima even pushed theirs away. 

The first thing he needed was for them to keep quiet. They couldn’t let Scarecrow know what was going on. He might freak out and stop them. Aizawa explained if Scarecrow knew that there was even a chance of the kids being hurt he would shut everything down. That he might even sabotage later efforts. 

It just wasn’t safe for Scarecrow, he couldn’t know. When he sought eye contact, Izuku met his gaze with a nod. He knew just how important this was. 

The second thing that Aizawa needed from the teens was help. There was a lot that could go wrong. He would also need them to be ready in case it did. If Scarecrow or Aizawa or anyone else was hurt they’d need help as soon as possible. 

They’d need a cover story for anyone or anything that happened. 

It was a lot to ask of the teens.

The first step would be finding the numbers of local clinics, veterinarians, and anyone who could reasonably stitch someone together in short order. 

The kids nodded, and a few stood. Momo and Tenya were likely already planning to research everything in the area. While Aizawa appreciated the vigor and desire to help their friend, he worried about the kids. None of them ate.

Bakugou, in a way that made Aizawa feel like a dumbass, informed him that they weren’t going to starve from missing one meal. If they really only had a week they needed to get started. Aizawa knew this, he was the one that told them, but still, he felt a little ridiculous.

Aizawa gave the kids their own tasks. Izuku's primary task was keeping Scarecrow away from the Northeastern corner of the farm. Where they’d be getting everything ready. Bakugou and Kirishima was going to help him clear an area for the ritual. Uraraka was in charge of locating candles, and everything else that would be needed for the ritual, as she was the only one who could drive legally. Mina and Denki would be in charge of preparing the circle, first a few practice ones, then with the sand and other things that Uraraka sourced. 

Aizawa made all the students memorize local vets and clinics numbers. Each needed to remember them at the drop of a hat. He needed them to be safe, and while he was leading them into harm's way, he wanted to hope they'd come out unscathed. 

When the clearing was cleared of weeds and the pockets in the ground filled in, Aizawa sent Bakugou and Kirishima go to help Izuku with keeping Scarecrow busy.

As each of the kids finished their chores during the days that followed, they swapped off who needed Scarecrow’s help at any given time. If Aizawa wasn’t so worried about Scarecrow catching on, he’d think it was sweet how willing the other was to help the kids with all the little things they were bringing to his attention. Chores they’d never needed help with before, advice on their gardens, and a thousand other little things. Aizawa had to admire their distraction techniques. 

Aizawa carefully watched over the kids as they worked. Mina and Denki’s work improved by the hour and he was proud of them for the time and effort. 

He knew the week would be gone before any of them were prepared for it, but the kids were smart and Aizawa was confident that as long as they stuck together they’d be able to do it. 

They can do this.

Chapter Text

Too soon the full moon loomed over them. 

They needed to perform the ritual. 

And they had to get it right. 

Uraraka had found everything that they needed, by miracle or magic or moral intrepidness. Aizawa was willing to call her whatever she wanted for getting everything with time to spare. 

He sent Denki and Mina out to draw the ritual circle a few times to get the shape of it right. They’d been practicing. Aizawa knows they have. He’s watched them get it right over and over again. But this was still the last day, this was the last chance they have to practice and Aizawa just wanted to make sure. 

Close to sunset, Aizawa assembled the mix of sand and plants. He murmured the required spell over it. He’s been practicing his own part in all of this. The words are in Latin, Aizawa did his best to pronounce everything as correctly as the internet could tell him. 

Mina and Denki got right to work under Aizawa, Bakugou, Kirishima, and Uraraka's watchful eyes. All too soon, for Aizawa at least, the kids were done. 

But they needed to eat before anything else happened.

They all sat down but dinner was a nervous, awkward affair.

None of them were sure how the evening was going to go, Aizawa could see it from the looks on their faces.

The food on the table looked and smelled delicious, and even though he couldn’t force himself to eat, Aizawa encouraged the kids to. Pushing them to eat so they’d have the energy, and something in their stomach later. There have been times that Aizawa wished that he had had something in his stomach when things went wrong.

Not that anything would go wrong. 

But Aizawa wanted to cover his bases. 

The kids who normally took their time eating finished in minutes, and the kids who normally sped through dinner spent it slowly pushing the food around their plate. Aizawa knew what the kids were doing, nerves and fear were just showing themselves in new ways and the kids were eager for it to be over with. 

If Aizawa could he’d have put it off longer too. 

There’s almost no conversation, just furtive looks around the table. 

When it had gone on long enough, and Aizawa was certain that all the food that was likely going to be eaten was, he sent them off. 

Aizawa sent Izuku to get Scarecrow while Aizawa and the rest got the last parts ready.

They piled their dishes around the counters. No one asked who was going to deal with the dishes, they all knew it’s not important.

Uraraka handed each of them a candle, all thick with different sigils carefully carved into the sides by a steady hand. The silence that had befallen the group was only barely broken by their muttered thanks.

He looked at the seven scared faces gathered around him. 

There had to be something Aizawa could say to help, that might get rid of the apprehension, worry, concern on their too young faces. But nothing he’d learned would help.

“I want you all to know, that I am so proud of you. For stepping up and helping me, and helping Scarecrow. There’s no telling how tonight is going to go. Hopefully it’ll go well. But you’re all so brave, for looking at something that’s completely foreign to all of you, to all of us! For putting your friend ahead of your fear. This is something completely unknown to all of us, and I know it’s scary, and I know we’re all worried about Scarecrow and what might happen. But trust me when I say, no matter what happens, we will get through it together. Now, it’s important that while we do this, that we don’t focus on the bad or the scary or anything negative. We need to think of all the good outcomes and we need to see that everything is going to be, to be fine. It’s all going to be okay, but we need to focus on the good, the happy, the exciting. How tomorrow’s going to look when Scarecrow is doing just great, okay?” Aizawa can admit that he’s rambling, but he’s doing his best.

The few small smiles he got in return were enough, they made their way to the clearing. 

The kids wandered behind him in near silence. Aizawa did his best to avoid thinking about horror movies that started with a line of people holding candles walking in the woods. 

Denki and Mina put the finishing touches on the circle while the others puttered around. Uraraka placed the rest of the candles around the outside of the circle, lining them up with the markings that the other two were putting down. Everyone else was twitchy, ready for it to be over. 

Whatever Denki said to Mina caused her to bark out a laugh, which she quickly smothered, but it was enough to help the rest of the kids. They went from silent as the grave to small conversations, and a few small laughs bubbling up. Aizawa had to smile, because they were trying, and that’s all he could ask of them.

The moon was slowly breaching the horizon as Aizawa stood, alternating between watching Denki and Mina work and looking for Izuku and Scarecrow through the trees. 

He was wondering where they were. If he should send someone to look for them, only for the missing two to appear.

As soon as Scarecrow guessed what was up he’d have a hard time convincing him. There was only so much time, but for all that Aizawa had planned what he would do and say, he couldn’t figure out how Scarecrow would react.

Aizawa watched Scarecrow stop dead in his tracks when he saw the circle. The blue glow from his eyes got brighter and he made movements like he was going to run when Aizawa realized he’d have to do something, anything to get the massive man to calm down. 

“We’re not going to hurt you, Scarecrow! I promise we just want to help, ple- please! Let me explain, please don’t run. Just let me explain, no one here wants to hurt you I promise, just let us explain.” 

Scarecrow didn’t want to be part of whatever it was they were doing, that much Aizawa could tell. The man’s hands were flying but they either weren’t forming real words or Scarecrow was just throwing out all the ones he knew. 

“I’m sorry, I should have said something, any of us should have said something. But this, this might fix, well, you. It could let you be human again. You could have as close to a normal human life as you want. I know this is probably terrifying for you, but we just want to help you, Scarecrow. Please.” Aizawa begged the scarecrow. While the other seemed to calm down some at his words, Aizawa could still see the way the other’s eyes roved the clearing and the students faces. Looking for a hint, a tic, anything.

Aizawa knew that Scarecrow wasn’t going to find anything, his heart pounded when the glow settled on his face. 

Scarecrow signed something, most of the words were lost but he did catch, “Explain” and “Afraid” and Aizawa was going to work with that. 

“Scarecrow I know you’re scared, so are all of us, but we want to help. You told me that if you could, you’d want to be human again. Or that you’d at least want to try. Please, there’s so much out there that you could do, but you need to let us do the ritual. If you let us you can be human, you can heal from your wounds. You could do so much if you just let us help you, please, let us help you live again. That’s all we want.” 

There was only so much time, Aizawa knew this, and he noticed that the moon was almost fully over the horizon, if they couldn’t get him to agree soon it’d be too late.

“Please Scarecrow, let us help you.” 

Scarecrow was wavering, Aizawa could see that and the kids could see that. 

Izuku grabbed Scarecrow’s hand, “Please Scarecrow. We just wanna help you. That’s all we ever wanted. Do you really think we would have spent all this time helping you communicate, helping you become one of us, if we just wanted to hurt you more? You’re our friend, Scarecrow, we love you and want you to be okay.” 

Scarecrow was on the fence, though he didn't try to pull his hand back, which Aizawa was counting as a step in the right direction. He was about to try his argument again, hopefully more sensibly, when all the kids piped up in agreement. 

Aizawa didn't catch everything they said, but it seemed like it was getting through.

Bakugou piped up, his voice cutting through the din, “Scarecrow you’re an idiot if you would ignore all the people standing here. We’re literally standing in front of you, fucking begging you just to let us help!”

As much as he wanted to tell Bakugou to watch his language, that seemed to be Scarecrow’s breaking point. 

Finally, finally Scarecrow agreed. Terrified. But he was agreeing. Even if they could see the way his limbs jerked, more than simple tremors that shook his entire body, and the way his eyes flicked from person to person to person, looking for any sign that they were about to betray him.  

Izuku lead Scarecrow toward the circle. 

The man’s normally massive steps got smaller and smaller the closer they got, till Scarecrow came to a standstill. He’s still holding Izuku ’s hand, but despite the teen’s tugging on it, the man didn't move. Bakugou comes up on Scarecrow’s other side, grabbing the man’s hand and moved to pull him in too. 

When that failed, all the kids, each of them having had a chance to get close to Scarecrow and each of them wanting to help make things right, moved to surround Scarecrow.

The movement was sweet and also a little manipulative. The kids moved in to hug him and swayed him into the circle. 

Scarecrow looked petrified as the kids started to move away, leaving the center of the circle. Mina moved him a small bit to the side after stepping back from the huddle to make sure that he was in the right position. She reached to pull the scarecrow down by his shirt collar, once his face was level she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a hug, then moved away. 

Slowly, in a too slow way, Scarecrow straightened, standing in the center of the circle. 

Aizawa guided the kids to their spots around the circle, standing them as evenly apart as he could. The kids all remained where he placed them, some shuffling around, some bouncing in place, some perfectly still. 

As he looked around the circle Aizawa knew it was now or never, so he gave everyone one last chance to back out, to not be a part of this, of whatever happens, good or bad. 

Bakugou stood to his left, the boy glared at Aizawa as though irritated that the other had even asked. 

To his left was Uraraka, who looked determined, excited, and nauseous all at once. She just clutched her candle tighter to her chest and nodded at him when he made eye contact. 

To her left was Tenya, who was looking very conflicted, but he made no move to leave. 

To his left was Denki, who was all but bouncing in place. There wasn’t fear but a fair amount of nervousness on Denki ’s face, but the boy looked more excited than anything else, and Aizawa got the feeling that tonight would need to get a lot worse to scare him away. 

To his left was Momo, who was also looking very determined. She gave Aizawa a weak, watery grin when he got to her, but made no move to leave.

To her left was Kirishima, who was excited and grinning and bouncing. 

To his left was Izuku, who was terrified but trying (unsuccessfully) to put on a brave face.

Finally to his left and to Aizawa's right was Mina, who really looked like she was about to vibrate out of her skin. 

No one stepped away, no one looked like they even considered it. 

The moon crept higher in the sky.

He told them to think positively, to feel all the love and happiness and every good emotion that they had regarding Scarecrow, and to focus on it. They’d need to stay in the circle until told to leave. They can’t drop or blow out the candles until told otherwise either. Finally, no matter what happened, they couldn’t touch Scarecrow or Aizawa or each other until he said it was safe. He couldn’t risk something happening. 

When the kids tensed up and nodded, Aizawa pulled out the printed pages of the ritual from his pocket. They were wrinkled and damaged, but he was still able to focus on the words.

The battered zippo had been with Aizawa through a lot. As he carefully lit his own candle he spared a moment to hope that this would be the last thing lighted with it. The thought was oddly soothing as he centered himself and focused on the words.

He thought he could hear Scarecrow sniffle a little, the sound, odd, and more like a leaf blower fighting to start, but no one mentioned it as Aizawa started his way around the circle. 

Aizawa was glad he took the time to look up the pronunciation, he did his best to read the Latin. He slowly circled the site, reading the words as clearly as he could. Putting all his hope, love, and eagerness into the words. As he circled, he was lighting the kids' candles on the inside of the circle, then lit the candles on the outside of the circle. 

The Latin section of the spell wasn’t very long, but as Aizawa read the Latin carefully and with as much intent as he could, he could see the scarecrow getting more and more nervous. 

An image of what it must have been like the last time Scarecrow was in this position briefly crossed Aizawa's mind, but he forced the image out. 

He reached the end of the Latin part of the spell, stopping at his place in the circle at just the right time. 

Now the part that would require all of them. 

He told the kids to gather all their respect, love, happiness, and everything positive they had for Scarecrow.

He told them to focus on it, to shape it within themselves until it felt tangible, like something within them that they could pull out.

Almost in sync the kids closed their eyes, focusing. 

Aizawa did the same, pulling everything within himself that he could. 

Then he told them to release it to the circle, with the intent to fix and heal Scarecrow. 

All together they opened their eyes to see the blue glow they had associated with Scarecrow lighting up the circle. 

The blue light glowed brighter and brighter, till it was blinding, then concentrated, racing along the lines to Scarecrow. 

The light was gone. 

Scarecrow seemed the same.

No one breathed. 

For a long moment, too long and too short, nothing happened. 

Aizawa aborted his plan to break the circle when Scarecrow screamed. 

The scarecrow screamed in a way that was monstrous and mechanoid and human before he dropped to the ground.

He convulsed, his body bowed till his spine looked ready to snap. He shook and jerked, a terrible snarling gurgle made its way from his throat. 

 The glow in Scarecrow’s eyes disappeared. Leaving the night pitch black and the full moon creeping its way overhead.

Scarecrow dropped like a limp puppet. All movement stopped. 

Aizawa wondered if that meant that the ritual was over when a wave of blue light burst from Scarecrow. 

The light was like getting hit by a speeding truck and every ounce of pain that he’d been living with was wiped from existence. 

Aizawa opened his eyes from his place on the ground a good ten feet away from where he’d been. A quick glance around the clearing revealed that the kids were getting up too. 

Every single candle was out, and the only light now was from the full moon that was fully overhead. 

Still laying in the middle of the clearing was Scarecrow, who hadn’t moved. 

Aizawa scrambled to him. 

Not initially seeing anything wrong, he pulled the man’s head and shoulders into his lap, he was so much lighter than Aizawa had thought he’d be.

His hands rested on the sack before he tugged the burlap off of Scarecrow’s head.

It was only sheer force of will that kept Aizawa from closing his eyes before looking down. 

He was glad that he didn’t. 

There was a man's face under the sack. Which Aizawa had been expecting. But the man was too thin. 

But he was young, and handsome. Aizawa would guess in his early to mid-twenties. 

The man, who must have been Scarecrow, blinked up at him. And Aizawa blinked back. 

Heavy shadows from the moon cast Scarecrow’s face in stark relief, and Aizawa's pretty sure he was holding the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his arms. 

They stared at each other for a moment.

Maybe both were in shock.

Aizawa barely noticed as the hand that had been pressed to Scarecrow’s side lifted to his face. 

A gentle movement that perfectly mimicked an action weeks and minutes ago. 

Scarecrow’s lips quirked into a smile, -and Aizawa was so wrong before, this, this smiling man was the most beautiful man he’s ever seen- and he said in a thick and raspy voice, “If this is heaven, I think I'm okay with being here." 

His eyes rolled back and he went limp in Aizawa's  arms, hand dropping to lay in the dirt.

Chapter Text

The group paused, no one knew what to say.

Shouta held the large but far too thin body to himself. He had done so much, felt so much, he’d never expected to be here, holding the body of a man he might just love to himself in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere. 

In the moment of silence Aizawa tried to memorize the smooth features of Scarecrow's face. The scribbled-out pictures hadn't done him any justice. He looked like a male model, with features high and strong . 

But Aizawa could feel the strength in Scarecrow's limbs, though the brush to his face had been with a rough glove he had felt the soft intent behind it. 

A chanced glance at the hand that had touched his face spotted that it landed on the surprisingly still man's large chest. Where it's landed next to the slowly increasing dark stain in the middle of the left side of his chest. 

He was tired, exhausted really. But it still took a second for him to remember that the first ritual involved Scarecrow getting stabbed, not just hurt. 

It only took him leaning back to try to see the wound better for the students to see it too, and only a moment longer to realize just how bad it was. 

The ringing silence turned into a cacophony as several of the students started yelling.

Shouta took a second to compartmentalize, his feelings wouldn't help anything, the students' yelling wasn't what he needed to be focusing on. Scarecrow was bleeding from a wound of unknown severity and he needed to figure out where and how bad.

"Shut up!" He yelled to the astonishment of all the students, who fell silent in shock. "Tenya, Kirishima, I can't carry him on my own, I need the two of you to help me carry him inside. Izuku, do you think you can apply pressure while we transport?"

"I can!" Izuku said worriedly. 

"Good. Bakugou, you're going to grab the first aid kit from the farm. Uraraka, you're going to grab the one from the bunkhouse. Denki, you're going to go ahead of us and make sure all the doors are open and that there are a lot of towels in the guest bedroom downstairs. Momo, you're going to use the landline to call the vet who lives three doors down and tell him we need him here immediately. If he asks for details tell him you don't know anything except that we found the man and that he's unconscious and obviously injured. Mina, you're going to stay close and run to grab anything I tell you to as we think of it. Now go!" The students scattered and Aizawa placed the three boys where he needed them. 

"Ready?" The three boys nodded, "Remember, don't drop him. And lift!" 

Together the four shuffled to the house. Mina nervously fluttered around them. 

They all looked up when Denki yelled that he could only find three towels. Aizawa sent Mina to find all the clean towels from the bunkhouse. 

They passed the kitchen where Momo was next to the phone, "Dr. Phillips says he'll be here as soon as he's done gathering his gear. Hopefully no more than ten minutes with driving."

"Good. Start boiling multiple smaller things of water." Aizawa said to her as they passed. 

The guest room hadn't been used since Nezu had stayed in there the month before. The old quilt Aizawa had found in the attic had been pulled off and moved to the small desk. The sheet usually below it had been pulled down to the foot of the bed. The towels were on the bed, overlapped to prevent damage. Denki stood in the far corner, watching them come in. 

"Denki-" The boys jerked his gaze from where he was looking at Izuku's hands, "-Do you know where the first aid kit is in this house?" 

Denki nodded, once, sharply.

Aizawa paused his instructions to help lower Scarecrow to the bed. Even with his head nearly touching the headboard his feet were hanging off the end. 

"Go grab the first aid kit." Denki dashed from the room and Kirishima and Iida took his place. 

Aizawa tugged the gloves from Scarecrow's hands, absently noting how long and thin they were. He unbuttoned the ancient, sunbleached, rain weakened shirt. Then he was pulling up the grey and brown undershirt to reveal a small wound. Spiderwebbing around it had pink and black lines of infection, it looked painful and he nearly pulled his hand back from it. 

Without pressure on the wound, it steadily seeped a mixture of blood and puss. 

He could hear Kirishima hiss in sympathy and remembered the boys were in the room. 

He sent Tenya to retrieve whatever towels Mina has found and sent Kirishima to meet the doctor at the gate. Then had Izuku put pressure on the wound once more, no matter what.

Denki skidded in as Kirishima ran out, the boy panting he thrust the kit at Aizawa who pulled out gauze and shears.

Aizawa handed off the gauze to Izuku to pad the wound. Denki, he sent to see where Bakugou was. 

He used the shears to remove Scarecrow's shirts, shoved them to the side and revealed the too skinny man's ribs. 

Under the clothes, he was so much smaller than he looked. 

Aizawa paused, he had some training but he didn't have the tools for the first aide he knew, and as long as Scarecrow kept breathing he wouldn't need to use the rest. 

He sent all the kids that didn’t have their hands full to the kitchen. They didn’t need to see more than they already had. 

This was going to be bad no matter how it turned out. At the very least most of them were going to be mentally scarred from this. But if Scarecrow survived, would the scarring be worse or better?

He was struck from his admittedly hysterical musings by Kirishima and the vet rushing through the front door, both men yelling. 

“We’re back here!” He stuck his head out to make eye contact with the rest of the students and wave them in.

“Dear god, what happened to him?” Doctor Phillips looked horrified at the sheer amount of blood on everyone in the room. 

“I don’t know, we found him in one of the fields. He’s not conscious and doesn’t have any form of ID on him.” Aizawa was quick to provide what he thought were passable relevant details. He spied most of the students peeking into the room from the doorway.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t suppose any of you know your blood types?”  Phillips asked the room at large. 

The students all respond that they do. Surprisingly, Izuku, Denki, and Kirishima all have type O blood. 

“Alright boys,” Dr. Phillips said to the group, “Normally I would never ask this but are either of you willing to donate your blood to this-” 

“Yes!” Izuku and Kirishima shouted. 

“In loco parentis, I’m going to say they can since they both want to. What do you need?” Aizawa was quick to answer. 

“Someone else needs to take over putting pressure on the wound. Do any of you know how to tap a vein?”  Phillips removed the coverings and tutted at the wound. “I’m going to have to debride this.” 

“I can tap a vein. Do you have the instruments?” Aizawa offered.

“You and the boys need to wash up to your elbow at least, and probably need to remove your shirts to ensure no cross-contamination. There are three blood collection kits in the second pocket of my second bag.”

Aizawa all but dragged the two boys with him.

“Who’s going first?” The other students seemed torn between watching the doctor work on Scarecrow, and seeing Aizawa draw Izuku and Kirishima’s blood. 

“I’ll go first!” Izuku shout then repeated at a whisper. “I’ll go first.” 

“It’s going to take me a minute to set this up, get comfortable and take some deep breaths. It’ll do more harm than good if you pass out.” Aizawa grabbed and squeezed Izuku’s forearm. The teen could only manage a half-grin in response, but it was better than nothing at the moment. “Kirishima, the same goes for you. Deep breaths.” The blue haired teen nodded. 

The kits were pretty much entirely set up except for the needles. Aizawa took the chance to breathe. It’d been a while since he’d done this, and he wished he wasn’t focusing on his student to potentially save a man he was potentially in love with. 

Izuku and Kirishima looked frazzled when he checked on them, but they were both more calm than they were a minute ago. 

He warned Izuku that it would hurt, but the boy only squared his shoulders and held his arm out further. Aizawa made him relax again and sit back. He wasn’t an expert but he hit the vein on the first try, and set the bags up to collect. 

Kirishima was still too amped up when Aizawa checked his heart rate, so he made the boy match his breaths with they both tried to ignore the groans of pain coming from down the hall. 

Either the earlier panic had calmed or listening to the pained groans had shaken him, but he didn’t get Kirishima’s vein on the first try, or the second, or the third. He had to switch arms and needles, but the teen didn't make a noise of complaint other than a barely-there hiss. 

Aizawa watched the bags and boys for a minute to make sure there wasn’t anything wrong  before he told Momo to watch them and went back to the small bedroom. 

Phillips had a teen on each of Scarecrow’s limbs to keep him from moving. Denki and Mina were running back and forth from the kitchen swapping out boiled towels. Barely letting them cool before using them to mop up the blood and puss. 

Open wounds, Aizawa saw he’d opened up the spiderwebbing infection to get it out. 

Aizawa was in a terrible place where he couldn’t help and wasn't sure how to ask. 

The dilemma was taken from him when Izuku called from the other room. His collection bag was almost full. 

Aizawa went through the motions of removing the bag from the line and the needle from the line. He brought in the bag and asked where the tools were. 

Phillips sent him to his bag once again. Aizawa was quick to set up the blood bag and hook it up to Scarecrow. 

Phillips checked it over and nodded, returning to the wound in the tall man’s side. 

Aizawa couldn’t watch. He couldn’t watch the methodical way Phillips was tearing Scarecrow apart. 

He left again. 

He took the bag from Kirishima and got it ready. Staying distant, staying compartmentalized was impossible when these kids, ones he’s grown to view as his own, are practically crying. When they were trying to hold down the limbs of the only person Aizawa's ever felt this depth of emotion about. 

Aizawa couldn’t watch Phillips’s hands, he watched Scarecrow’s face instead. Like his limbs, which jerked with Phillips’s movements, he face twisted minutely as well.

In the dark, he looked handsome but in this light he could see how thin the man was. The grime that had built up around his eyes, around his neck. It didn't look like a century of dirt, but it was a lot. The hair was black from the dirt and dust covering it, but Aizawa thought the greasy hair could be a mousy brown beneath the layers of dirt and sweat and oil. There’s really no good way to tell without washing it. 

There wasn’t any way they were going to be able to care for Scarecrow. 

Aizawa went to the kitchen.

The water was still boiling, towels were boiling in one of them. The landline was the only really reliable phone in the house. Usually, he would only use it if he knew the students were all on their phones, but he’s not taking the chance. 

He called the emergency room that was almost an hour and a half there and back, and told them what he had told Phillips, along with what Phillips had done and was doing. 

After being told he was crazy for calling a vet before calling an emergency room they said they were sending someone out. 

He did his best to explain that unless they werre sending out a doctor he wasn’t going to let the man be removed from his house. 

Aizawa listened to the events in the guest room with half an ear. Keeping an eye on Izuku and Kirishima while arguing with the woman on the phone. He was ready to hang up on her when she conceded that an ER doc from another shift could meet the emergency crew at the farm to look over Scarecrow. If he was in as bad a shape as Aizawa described they might have to take him to the ER whether Shouta ‘allowed’ it or not.

He agreed and, with a visceral pleasure at it, hung up before she could say anything else. He leaned back against the wall to breathe for a moment. He watched the doorway from where he was, and wondered if this was worth it. 

“Aizawa?” Izuku asked tentatively when he'd had taken a chance to settle himself. 

“What is it, Izuku?” Aizawa responded after a few more breaths.

“Has it been long enough that Kirishima and I can rejoin the others?” Izuku asked quietly like he was expecting Aizawa to yell. With how close he was to yelling at the 911 operator he couldn’t say he was surprised.

“Not yet.” He went into the fridge and grabbed some fruit that looked safe and handed it off. “You both gave a lot, at very least you need to some sugar into your system so you don’t pass out if you try to stand up.” 

“How long until we can join them?” Kirishima asked less tentatively, but still worried.

“You should probably wait.” He stopped, considered everything he’d said to the boys in the last couple of days, and decided to add something else, “Izuku, Kirishima, I just want you two to know how proud I am of you both.” 

The boys shared a look like Aizawa might have gone insane, which considering the last month or so, the last week, hell, even the last couple of hours, could very well have been true.