(user monoma) Class 1-B’s morning didn’t explode into chaos — it slipped into it quietly, the same way it had been for weeks.

Monoma had barely stepped into the room when Kendo’s palm snapped against his upper arm with enough force to make him flinch. She didn’t yell, didn’t even look angry; she just scolded him under her breath for “starting something” before he ever opened his mouth. A moment later, she hit him again when he rolled his eyes, and the rest of the class barely reacted.

Most of 1-B had grown desensitized to the way she handled him. A couple of students hesitated, but no one actually stepped in. They’d all convinced themselves it was harmless discipline — even though the blows were getting harder, even though Monoma had stopped trying to defend himself weeks ago, even though he always straightened his back afterward like he was bracing for the next one.

Across the hall, members of Class 1-A were gathering for their homeroom. Some watched openly, others with sidelong smirks. Shinso, leaning against the wall in his new uniform, muttered something cold and dismissive as Monoma passed by. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be — the other 1-A students heard it and snickered among themselves, acting like Monoma’s humiliation was part of the morning entertainment.Vlad King stood at the front of 1-B’s classroom with a stack of attendance sheets. He looked up only briefly when Kendo delivered another corrective smack to Monoma’s shoulder, but his expression didn’t change. No reprimand. No intervention. He simply continued reading the names aloud, choosing not to acknowledge what he was clearly aware of.

It would’ve kept going unnoticed — or ignored — if not for Aizawa.

He arrived quietly, barely more than a shadow at first, scanning the hallway with that tired, sharp gaze of his. The moment he saw Kendo’s hand come down again, saw Monoma jerk back, saw the way he swallowed the frustration without defending himself, something in Aizawa’s expression shifted.

He didn’t bark an order. He didn’t drag anyone aside. But he moved closer.

Shinso straightened slightly when he noticed his mentor watching. Aizawa didn’t say a word to him just gave him a long, pointed look that made the boy shut his mouth and look away.Then Aizawa’s eyes returned to Class 1-B.

He didn’t miss the way Monoma avoided everyone’s gaze. He didn’t miss the bruise half-hidden under the sleeve of the uniform jacket. He didn’t miss Vlad’s refusal to acknowledge any of it.

There was a quiet tension in the air as Aizawa lingered, observing the dynamics of both classes with growing irritation. His jaw tightened just enough to show he wasn’t pleased.

When he finally spoke, it was calm. Too calm.

“Vlad,” Aizawa said, only loud enough for those closest to hear. “You and I are going to have a conversation after homeroom.”

Vlad hesitated. That was rare.

Meanwhile, the hall fell silent in a way that wasn’t normal. Kendo froze mid-motion. Shinso glanced over again, this time without any smugness. The rest of the students suddenly pretended to be very focused on their shoes, their lockers, anything but Monoma.

The morning continued, but everything felt different — charged, fragile, like something finally shifted after being ignored for far too long.

And Monoma, standing in the middle of it all, wasn’t sure what to think of Aizawa’s attention… or the fact that someone might finally be noticing the things nobody else bothered to see.