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Snow had started falling outside the U.A. dorms just as dusk settled, soft flakes glinting against the windows. Inside, the common room looked like a storm of glitter and tangled tinsel had detonated.
Hizashi Yamada was in his element.
“Little listeners! I said festive, not destructive! Kaminari, no! The lights go on the tree, not Bakugou!”
“HE MOVED!” Kaminari yelped, ducking as Bakugou detonated a tiny explosion that singed the end of a garland.
Aizawa Shouta stood at the doorway, scarf around his neck, coffee mug in hand, watching with the kind of calm resignation that came only from years of teaching hero students. Hizashi glanced over from where he was helping Mina tape paper snowflakes to the wall.
“C’mon, Sho! You can’t just stand there bein’ all Grinch-y,” Hizashi called, his grin as bright as the string lights wound around his arms. “We’re spreadin’ joy here!”
“I’m supervising,” Aizawa said dryly.
“You’re brooding.”
“Same thing.”
Hizashi laughed, that full-bodied, infectious sound that made even the most tired of his little listeners perk up. “Grab that box, yeah? The one labeled ‘Lights of Doom.’ We’re doin’ the top half of the tree.”
Aizawa set down his coffee with a sigh that, to anyone else, would sound annoyed—but Hizashi caught the softness in it. He crossed the room, brushing past him just close enough to murmur, “You owe me for this.”
“I’ll pay you back in cookies,” Hizashi whispered, winking. “Mina made extras!”
⸻
The decorating turned out to be surprisingly efficient once Aizawa got involved. His precision with the lights contrasted perfectly with Hizashi’s chaotic energy; one untangled, the other wrapped, and soon the tree glowed golden against the common-room windows.
“Sensei! Look! We made stockings!” Uraraka held up a row of paper ones—each crudely decorated with markers, names scribbled in bright colors. “You and Present Mic have ones too!”
Hizashi clapped his hands together. “You guys! That’s adorable!”
Aizawa blinked at the stocking with his name. Someone had drawn a cat face on it. Another doodle of a sleeping bag. “How creative.”
“You love it,” Hizashi teased.
Aizawa didn’t deny it. He simply reached over, adjusted a slightly crooked ornament, and muttered, “Good work, everyone.”
The class beamed. Somehow, even Bakugou didn’t yell.
⸻
By evening, the lights were dimmed, the tree glowed softly, and the smell of cocoa filled the air. The little listeners lounged in a circle, swapping stories and playing cards. For once, the dorms were calm.
Hizashi disappeared for a moment, then came back dragging a large red sack over his shoulder. “Alright, my little listeners! Santa Mic has ARRIVED!”
Groans, laughter, and one enthusiastic cheer from Kirishima filled the room.
“Sir, did you actually—” Iida started.
“Yup!” Hizashi said proudly, kneeling beside the tree. “I got presents for everyone! Tiny things—don’t get all weepy on me. But you’ve all worked your butts off this semester, so consider this a lil’ ‘thanks for survivin’.’”
Aizawa sat beside him, quietly pulling smaller boxes from the sack, sorting them with neat precision. “Most are from both of us,” he added simply.
“Oh my god, you two are like parents,” Kaminari whispered, earning a nod from Mina and a death glare from Bakugou.
“Midoriya!” Hizashi called, tossing a small wrapped package his way. “For ya, little bro of All Might!”
Midoriya caught it with wide eyes. “Thank you, Mic-sensei! A-and Eraserhead-sensei!”
More packages followed. Tiny keychains, custom notebooks, funny socks, new earbuds—nothing extravagant, but personal enough to make each student’s eyes light up.
Then Hizashi held up one last box, small and neatly wrapped in silver paper. “And this one’s for you, Shouto.”
Todoroki looked startled. “For… me?”
“Yeah, man.” Hizashi’s voice softened. “Can’t have Christmas without every one of my little listeners gettin’ somethin’, right?”
The room quieted a little. Todoroki hesitated before taking it, fingers brushing the shiny paper. “I… I’ve never gotten a Christmas present before.”
The words were simple, matter-of-fact—but they hit the air like a soft ache.
Aizawa was beside him before anyone could speak. He crouched down, meeting Todoroki’s uncertain gaze. “Then it’s about time you did.”
Todoroki blinked, visibly trying to process the unfamiliar warmth. “Thank you, Sensei.”
“You don’t have to thank us,” Aizawa said. “You earned it.”
Hizashi leaned over, ruffling Todoroki’s hair with a grin. “Open it, little listener.”
Inside was a soft navy scarf with faint gold stitching—the U.A. crest embroidered near one edge. Not too flashy, not too plain. Just… warm.
Todoroki stared at it for a moment, then whispered, “It’s perfect.”
Aizawa’s expression softened. Hizashi caught the way his hand brushed against Todoroki’s shoulder, brief but grounding. Around them, the rest of the class stayed respectfully quiet—until Kaminari sniffled loudly and ruined it.
“I-It’s just so nice, okay?!”
“Shut up,” Bakugou muttered, tossing popcorn at him—but the corners of his mouth twitched.
⸻
Later that night, most of the little listeners had retreated to their rooms, tired but smiling. The tree still twinkled faintly in the dim light.
Hizashi and Aizawa sat side by side on the couch, cocoa mugs in hand, a blanket thrown over both their laps.
“See?” Hizashi said softly. “Totally worth it.”
Aizawa hummed in agreement. “I’ll admit—it went better than I expected.”
“You mean nobody set the place on fire?”
“That too.”
Hizashi leaned his head on Aizawa’s shoulder, the glow of the tree reflecting in his glasses. “You did somethin’ good tonight, Sho.”
“So did you.”
“Yeah, but mine was loud. Yours was… you know. Quiet good.”
Aizawa smirked faintly. “That’s just my style.”
They sat there for a while, watching the snow fall beyond the window. The world felt still for once—no emergencies, no training drills, just warmth.
⸻
The sound of soft footsteps interrupted them. Todoroki stood hesitantly near the couch, scarf wrapped around his neck already.
“Sensei,” he said quietly. “I just… wanted to say thank you again. For the gift. And… for tonight.”
Aizawa nodded. “You’re welcome, Todoroki. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Hizashi added, smiling.
Todoroki hesitated, then gave a small, awkward smile back before heading upstairs.
When he was gone, Hizashi exhaled slowly. “That little listener’s been through hell.”
Aizawa’s eyes lingered on the stairway. “Yeah. But he’s learning what it means to be cared for.”
Hizashi nudged him gently. “Maybe ‘cause he’s got teachers who care too much.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
Aizawa didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned slightly, pressing a quiet kiss to Hizashi’s temple. “You’re a good influence.”
Hizashi chuckled. “Tell that to my playlist.”
“Never.”
They both laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the soft crackle of the heater. The dorms felt like a home tonight—lived in, loved, and safe.
⸻
The next morning, the little listeners woke to find a new banner strung across the common room, glitter letters uneven but cheerful:
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, CLASS 1-A!”
Beneath it sat two mugs, still warm, and a small note in neat handwriting:
You’re all doing great. Keep it up. — Eraserhead & Present Mic
Mina squealed. “They’re so cute I can’t stand it!”
Bakugou groaned. “If you start singing Christmas carols again, I swear—”
“DECK THE HALLS—” Mina began, already dancing away from him.
From the staff room down the hall, Hizashi’s laugh echoed faintly, followed by Aizawa’s amused sigh.
It turned out, Christmas at U.A. wasn’t just about presents or lights.
It was about family—the loud, messy, ridiculous kind that somehow made the world a little brighter.