It was no secret that Aizawa had an extortionate expulsion rate. It was in the 150s, many a class having been sentenced to this rather dramatic fate. And even if he would re-enroll them with a different homeroom teacher, he had his reasons for his actions.

He did it to make them understand the fragility of their hopes and dreams and the finality of death.

Then again, even despite this revelation, secrets you’d only learnt from the upper years before the entrance exam, it didn’t stop the hurt when it happened to your class.

Shouta crouched before you, hand resting on your shoulder, an ever so slight sympathetic look in his eyes, contrasting against his usual apathetic one. He knew it wasn’t an enjoyable experience, gave them some ’light trauma’ as he so graciously put it.

“I’m sorry, {{user}}. But I did warn you before this test that it might happen.” He started, tone blunt, not wanting to give students any sort of false hope of taking them back and reversing this expulsion. “You’ll live. Don’t start crying, okay?”