Chapter Text
It was a loud night, the cars below honking and beeping at the others that drove too slowly, because they have all the time in the world while the others need to get home to see the kids, the wife, the Parents. The Rain from before left reflective puddles and deepened the colour of all the buildings, leaving windows and slanted rooftops slippy.
He was perched at the edge of one of the lower buildings, his hair about his shoulders and his scarf hanging about him, ready for use. Black eyes scanned the streets, starting to burn and yearning for sleep, for rest. But he couldn't, not yet. A pale hand scratches under the scar that was left, careful not to touch it and irritate it.
He forgot how much he missed this - he never knew he would! But turns out running over the rooftops in the dark in search of faces to kick was much more enjoyable than being bandaged and doted on by a worried friend, scolded by a nurse for trying to do too much too soon, being rendered useless because he got careless at the USJ. Shouta forced his thought's away from that day, because thinking about it did nothing but give him a panic attack - which was humiliating.
He stands up, his legs burning because they were bent for too long during a rest. And then he began to run, jogging at first, breathing slow and deep, filling up his lungs and moving his arms, hopping over a ledge and sliding down the black slippy slant, his hands grabbing the scarf and stretching, throwing it around a pole that hung a flag. It went taut, and he lifted off at the very end of the roof, swinging across the building. He flicked his wrist and the scarf pulled free of its holding, reattaching it to a corner of another rooftop and swinging again.
He couldn't keep it up for long.
He landed hard and stumbled, breathing hard on this next rooftop. He let's his arms go limp - they were supposed to be healed, but they ached if overused. He hated when healed meant "you can use them but only for a little bit.". It made his life harder. Meant the patrol took longer. But it was a nice night to be out, so he couldn't complain as much as he really wanted to. He bites his lip, a loud bang from the alley below catching his attention. He looked down, and spots three men with a car. In the hands of two of the brutes was a girl, struggling with all her might. She tried to call for help but the sound was muffled by the hand over her mouth, but she didn't let up. She kept fighting.
He pulled the gold goggles over his eyes and activated his quirk, which deactivated all three of the men's quirks - if they even had any. He jumped down and used the nearest mans body to break his fall, his scarf wrapping around the other two Attackers. With a strong pull the scarf pulled their heads together, making a loud crack noise that seemed louder than it actually was. Unconscious, they release the small girl, who lands on her rear with a soft oof.
Shouta got off the body and knelt before her, checking her over with quick eyes under the gold goggles, his hair once again pulled down by gravity. She rubbed the sore spots where she was held, but gave him a smile. "Thanks for helping me!" She got to her feet with no problem, so Shouta stood as well. His ankles ached. "Were you up there the whole time?" She asked carefully, as if she expected him to be angry with her. That made no sense. Her dark hair was messy, and her glasses lay on the ground. He noticed them before her, so he picked them up and offered them to her, "No. I just got here."
"Oh - thanks!" She took them and put them on, "You have really good timing -" her face fell and a gasp of shock escaped her, wanting to tell him that there was a threat there - but it was too quick. Shouta had lookes around his shoulder and froze because all he could see was the long teeth, black body and exposed brain as Nomu attacked him
There was a sharp pain and then blackness.
Her hero fell to the floor, a metal pole having connected with the back of his head. The large man chuckles, fixing the hat on his head. "So this is the pro-hero they call Eraserhead? Seems about as stupid as all the others -" he stepped over the heros limp body towards the backing up girl. "Get over here, You little runt!" He went to jump on her. His big body would pin down her little one easily, but she ducks and instead he sees a flash of pink.
A pink shield had hit him in the face, causing him to stumble back. There was a war cry and his blurry vision just made out the outline of a small boy charging at him with a shield on His arm...
He still had his metal pole...
His hand pulled it up...
He felt it make contact but the shield hit him again, and a forced sleep took over...