Shota AizawaThe room is sterile and impersonal, with plain white walls and a single table flanked by two chairs. Aizawa sits in one of them, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. His capture weapon is loosely draped around his neck, a subtle reminder of his hero identity even in this civilian setting. His flat, tired eyes scan the room, taking in every detail—the flickering fluorescent light, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the official fidgeting with a stack of papers at the head of the table.
The official, a middle-aged man with a nervous demeanor, clears his throat.
Aizawa’s gaze shifts to the official, his voice calm but laced with a hint of dry sarcasm.
The official chuckles awkwardly, adjusting his tie.
Aizawa’s expression doesn’t change, but his mind is already analyzing the situation. 'Best possible outcome. As if a spreadsheet could account for human complexity.' He leans back slightly in his chair, his tone even.
The official hesitates, clearly unprepared for such a direct question.
Aizawa’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t argue. He knows the system is flawed, but he also knows better than to waste energy on a battle he can’t win. Instead, he shifts his focus to the practicalities.
The official brightens, relieved to be back on script.
Aizawa nods once, his expression neutral. Immediate. No time for the usual adjustments. He doesn’t voice his thoughts, though. Instead, he simply says,
The official shifts uncomfortably, clearly bracing himself for the next part.
Aizawa’s eyebrows lift slightly, the only outward sign of his surprise. His voice remains calm, but there’s a sharp edge to his words.
The official nods quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Aizawa’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t react beyond that. Internally, he’s calculating the implications. A fine. 'As if adding financial pressure will make this any more palatable.' He leans forward slightly, his tone measured but firm.
The official stammers, clearly uncomfortable.
Aizawa’s expression hardens, but he doesn’t press further. He knows the system is rigid, and arguing won’t change anything. Instead, he exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. This is just another mission. Assess the situation, adapt, and proceed with minimal complications.
The official, sensing the tension, quickly gathers his papers and stands.
As the door clicks shut, Aizawa leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. His mind races, but his outward demeanor remains calm. A child. Immediately. This just got a lot more complicated. He glances at the empty chair across from him, his thoughts turning to the person who will soon occupy it. 'Whoever they are, they’re just as trapped in this as I am. No point in making this harder than it needs to be.'
When the door opens again, Aizawa doesn’t look up immediately. Instead, he takes a moment to steady himself, his expression schooled into its usual stoic mask. When he finally raises his gaze, his voice is calm and measured.
The official, a middle-aged man with a nervous demeanor, clears his throat.
Mr. Aizawa, thank you for coming on such short notice. We appreciate your cooperation in this matter.
Aizawa’s gaze shifts to the official, his voice calm but laced with a hint of dry sarcasm.
Cooperation implies I had a choice.
The official chuckles awkwardly, adjusting his tie.
Ah, well, yes. This is a government-mandated pairing, after all. But I assure you, the matching process is highly rigorous. We’ve taken into account your Quirk to ensure the best, er, possible outcome.
Aizawa’s expression doesn’t change, but his mind is already analyzing the situation. 'Best possible outcome. As if a spreadsheet could account for human complexity.' He leans back slightly in his chair, his tone even.
And if this match doesn’t meet my expectations?
The official hesitates, clearly unprepared for such a direct question.
Well, uh, the match is binding. However, we’re confident that you’ll find this arrangement beneficial in the long term. The goal is to strengthen hero society, after all.
Aizawa’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t argue. He knows the system is flawed, but he also knows better than to waste energy on a battle he can’t win. Instead, he shifts his focus to the practicalities.
What’s the timeline for this arrangement?
The official brightens, relieved to be back on script.
The marriage is effective immediately upon signing the document you have before you. This accelerates the typical timeline and facilitates a more immediate integration of your lives.
Aizawa nods once, his expression neutral. Immediate. No time for the usual adjustments. He doesn’t voice his thoughts, though. Instead, he simply says,
Understood.
The official shifts uncomfortably, clearly bracing himself for the next part.
There is, uh, one more condition. As part of this arrangement, you and your partner are required to produce a minimum of one child, although more are encouraged. And we expect you to start immediately.
Aizawa’s eyebrows lift slightly, the only outward sign of his surprise. His voice remains calm, but there’s a sharp edge to his words.
A child. Immediately.
The official nods quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Yes, that’s correct. It’s a standard requirement for government-mandated quirk marriages. If a child is not conceived within six months, you’ll be subject to a fine every six months until the condition is met.
Aizawa’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t react beyond that. Internally, he’s calculating the implications. A fine. 'As if adding financial pressure will make this any more palatable.' He leans forward slightly, his tone measured but firm.
And if we’re unable to meet this requirement due to… unforeseen circumstances?
The official stammers, clearly uncomfortable.
Well, uh, exceptions can be made in cases of medical necessity, but they require extensive documentation and approval from the Quirk Marriage Oversight Committee.
Aizawa’s expression hardens, but he doesn’t press further. He knows the system is rigid, and arguing won’t change anything. Instead, he exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. This is just another mission. Assess the situation, adapt, and proceed with minimal complications.
The official, sensing the tension, quickly gathers his papers and stands.
Your partner will be joining you shortly. I’ll leave you two to… get acquainted.He hurries out of the room, leaving Aizawa alone.
As the door clicks shut, Aizawa leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. His mind races, but his outward demeanor remains calm. A child. Immediately. This just got a lot more complicated. He glances at the empty chair across from him, his thoughts turning to the person who will soon occupy it. 'Whoever they are, they’re just as trapped in this as I am. No point in making this harder than it needs to be.'
When the door opens again, Aizawa doesn’t look up immediately. Instead, he takes a moment to steady himself, his expression schooled into its usual stoic mask. When he finally raises his gaze, his voice is calm and measured.
Let’s get this over with.
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