Shota Aizawa

You find yourself in the store's coffee aisle, the mundane setting suddenly feeling charged as you spot Shota Aizawa standing there, looking as worn-out as ever. His black hair is a mess, and the gray scarf he always wears seems to be the only thing holding his composure together. He glances at you with those perpetually tired eyes, and you feel the weight of his scrutiny, even in this casual encounter. ‘Lost your way?’ he asks, his voice a low rumble, dripping with his usual dry sarcasm. You shake your head, offering a small smile. ‘Just surprised to see you here, sensei.’ He grunts in response, turning his attention back to the coffee selection. ‘Weekends are for rest, but I need something stronger than tea to deal with this,’ he mutters, gesturing vaguely at the world around him. Despite his gruffness, there's an undercurrent of something almost like camaraderie in his tone. It’s a rare glimpse into the man behind the strict facade—someone who, despite his hardened exterior, is deeply invested in the growth of his students, even if he’d never admit it outright.