The Hallway

by ItsTheFrizz

Summary:

Being taken from the ruins of Jaku City was a relief at first. It promised safety and survival. Field medics treated the worst wounds. Med-evac teams stabilized bodies where they could and soothed minds. None of them knew yet that Central Hospital was a horror all its own.

Surviving it fractured Aizawa Shōta's mind, but he's still a hero.

Chapter 1: Safety & Survival

Summary:

This is basically all panic & trauma response. Graphic depictions of a hospital overwhelmed by a mass event.

Take care of yourselves.

Being taken from the ruins of Jaku City was a relief at first. It promised safety and survival. Field medics treated the worst wounds. Med-evac teams stabilized bodies where they could and soothed minds. None of them knew yet that Central Hospital was a horror all its own. 

Every hallway he'd seen was lined with occupied stretchers. Supplies were low. Staffing was lower. When was the last time he saw a person with a staff badge? Or any non-patient at all?

Cries of physical and emotional pain were constant. It was louder here than on the battlefield. The hospital's walls trapped the sounds inside. Wails and moans echoed and filled the narrow space to overflowing. 

Those walls that held screams too close were also too white. The fluorescent lights reflected sharply off of the glossy paint. It made it both hard to see and hard to not see. The person on the opposite side of the hallway had been writhing before but had become still. His brain screamed at him to watch, to know if their chest was still rising and falling. It screamed at him to block it all out too. To ignore the way blood gathered on the hem of the saturated and disheveled sheets. To stop watching as each drop became too heavy and fell into the large pool forming on the floor. 

Did he have his own pool? Probably. Every single part of him felt like it was both freezing cold and on fire. The scattering of scrapes were his mildest injuries, but they stung the most. Nothing was muted at all so his hazy thoughts couldn't be blamed on lingering pain medication. 

He realized that, after everything that he had said and done and felt, he was probably going to die in this random hallway. He would slip away without witness, staring at a person that he refused to accept had already met a similar end. These thoughts should probably make him laugh, or cry, or scream. Instead he simply released another shallow wheeze and wondered distantly how many more he'd get. 

It didn't really matter how many. They had failed. Shigaraki had escaped. Those who survived their hallways today wouldn't get many more breaths anyway. Neither would the people that avoided injury, or weren't caught within the crossfire. They may survive today. But tomorrow, death will come for them too. Or the next day, or the one after that. 

He thought of his colleagues. His friends. His love. His students. His little girl. Rage ignited in a brief, incandescent flash, before blackness enveloped him. 

---

He didn't remember waking. It was more accurate to say that he noticed that the scene was different now.

It seemed that his personal purgatory was still in a hospital. Fair. He did always hate them. 

He was in a private room. Low murmuring sounded from outside the door, but it was quiet inside. There were no monitors or tubes in sight. Evening light slanted in through a large window to his left. It made everything look soft. Deceptive, since the hospital sheets were as stiff and scratchy as ever. 

It sank in that he had been looking around with both eyes. He ran his finger under his right eye and the skin was smooth. There was no uneven half-moon marking his survival after the USJ. Feeling bolder, he moved the blanket aside and pulled up his right pant leg. He poked at the flesh of his shin. Maybe he looked like the mental image of himself in this place, and the damage to his eye and leg were too new. If that were true, though, he should have his scar. It proved his commitment to protecting his students and that made him surprisingly proud of it. 

With a sigh, he wondered what to do. Could he leave this room? If he could, did he want to? He was in no rush to see whatever might be out there even, or maybe especially, if it was a hospital hallway. 

Instead, he fixed the sheets and blankets and lay back on the pillows. He let his eyes close and his head loll to one side. He felt strange, almost high, but that wasn't quite it. After a few minutes, he realized that it was the feeling of not battling bone-deep exhaustion for the first time in years. He wasn't tired at all. 

Upon realizing that sleep wasn't happening, he stood to look out the window instead. Sleep wouldn't be necessary now, so maybe it was impossible. Insomnia would fit with every other hospital experience he ever had. 

When the door slid open, he stood still and watched in the window's reflection. 

Nezu walked in and closed the door behind himself. He didn't look right though. No suit jacket, vest, or tie. His rumpled white dress shirt and pants matched his unbrushed fur. He barely lifted his feet as he moved toward the bedside. He looked up and startled. 

“Pup!” The voice was right but the tone was wrong, and Nezu hadn't called him that in years. 

Shōta didn't react to Not-Nezu talking, just watched him evenly. Not-Nezu hurried over and held Shōta's right hand in both paws. Shōta wasn't sure why he expected them to be cold, but they weren't. His paws were warm. Soft. Familiar. 

Not-Nezu's ears flattened. “Say something?”

Wishing Nezu was actually with him would mean wishing him dead, wouldn't it? He tried to ignore how badly he wanted it. But each time he pushed it away, it pressed back harder. He took a few steps to be further apart. Maybe not touching would make it ache less.

Not-Nezu held the end of his tail and let his shoulders slump. He looked small. It reminded Shōta of when Nezu first met Eri. Nezu could rarely let himself look small, speak softly, or be gentle. The lab taught him that those things were vulnerabilities he couldn't allow. 

Not-Nezu's voice matched that memory too. “You know that you're safe now. Don't you, Shōta-kun?”  

The behavior was unusual for Nezu, but it was also exactly as he remembered it. It made Shōta uneasy. He pressed his back to the cool glass of the window. The cold was too short-lived to be grounding. He sat heavily on the floor instead. 

Their faces were level with each other's now. Shōta examined (Not?) Nezu's face, watching the tiny shifts in his expression. If this was Nezu, then Nezu was dead. If Nezu was dead, was Eri dead too?

Shōta's stomach flipped and his lips went numb. He closed his eyes tightly. It seemed unfair that panic attacks were still possible here. 

He felt soft paws running through his hair, and he felt 12 all over again. “It's okay now, pup. I found you.”

“I…don't…understand.” Shōta whispered each word between gulps of air.

“What don't you understand?” (Not?) Nezu asked, carefully detangling a knot.

He had to work himself up to the question. “Am…”

(Not?) Nezu hummed his encouragement.

“Am I…alive?”

The paws stilled in his hair. “Yes, pup. I found you in time.”

The crash of emotion was disorienting. This was Nezu. Nezu was alive. He was alive, but Eri wasn't here. Was she safe? And the battle. They failed. And at least 6 UA students were injured that he knew of. Did the students get help? Did they get lost in their own hallways?

The hallway.

Would he ever really leave that hallway?

Notes:

Originally, there was a 3rd scene where Eri told Shōta what happened. I decided to rewrite the last scene.

As of 8/10/25, I'm in the process of writing a 4th chapter and I don't think it's going to be the last. Oops.

Chapter 2: Shifting Sands

Summary:

He thought back to asking Nezu if he was alive. That didn't tell him much. An illogical question. Not that he was thinking logically. Shōta wasn't even sure whether he'd gotten back into bed and went to sleep, or if he had just hyperventilated and passed out on the floor.

Notes:

Okay, so I made it worse before I made it a little better.

Not sure if I'll write more to this.

Shōta remembered waking up this time.

He felt pressure - no, weight - near his feet. He opened his eyes. The head of the bed was lifted just slightly. It was a relief to be able to quickly see all around. 

He was still in the private hospital room, only now the blinds were partially closed to dim the mid-afternoon sunshine. Nezu was right against Shōta's leg. He was completely asleep. 

Everything about that was jarring. Shōta had never seen Nezu sleep around other humans. He also usually hid his rat behaviors, like the way he was curled into a ball and nestled into Shōta's leg for comfort and warmth. Of course humans hadn't stopped mistreating him after the lab. Discrimination against mutant quirks and quirked animals was pervasive.

The more Shōta looked at Nezu, the more it eroded his sense of knowing. 

He scanned the room - both eyes intact. He touched his face - still no USJ scar. He sat up to poke his shin - his leg was there. 

Was the Jaku raid real? Was the hallway real? Was the conversation with Nezu real? Was this real? 

How could he know? Really know?

It suddenly struck Shōta that if his USJ scar wasn't there, maybe this moment was real but the entire school year wasn't?

No Hell Class. No Problem Child. No All Might. No Shigaraki. No All For One. No Shirakumo-is-Kurogiri. No Stain. No Overhaul. No Eri. 

He looked at the dry-erase board hung on the wall. The date under his name was March 24. 3 days since Jaku, if Jaku was real. 

Hoping he'd had some kind of quirk accident or psychotic break would mean that he'd been delusional for 11 months. That would be…not ideal. 

He thought back to asking Nezu if he was alive. That didn't tell him much. An illogical question. Not that he was thinking logically. Shōta wasn't even sure whether he'd gotten back into bed and went to sleep, or if he had just hyperventilated and passed out on the floor.

Shōta's hands tightened around the blankets. 

The door slid open and Naomasa walked in carrying a drowsy Eri. When Shōta's eyes met Eri's she gasped and tried to wiggle out of Naomasa's arms.

Naomasa walked over and put Eri on Shōta's lap. The crying girl latched onto him. He was reflexively angry that she learned to cry silently. 

If this was real.

He shuddered and clung to Eri just as hard. 

After she had mostly settled, Eri pulled back enough to hold his face in both of her small hands. “Daddy.”

“Eri.” Shōta searched her face like it would have some solution in it. 

Naomasa cleared his throat and Shōta turned his gaze to the other man. “Nezu-san said you were confused last night. And you look a little confused right now.”

After years of (probably) working with Naomasa, of befriending him, Shōta's filter was faulty. He blurted out, “I have a leg.”

Naomasa pursed his lips and gave a small, singular nod. “Eri, hum for me?”

Eri pouted but began to hum when Naomasa's hands pressed over her ears.

“She didn't see or hear anything, and she didn't know it was you,” Naomasa hedged. “By the time we found you, we weren't even sure if she could Rewind you enough to save you.”

Shōta looked from Naomasa to Eri, eyes wide. 

Shōta let out a slow breath. “How bad was her quirk exhaustion?”

“Rough, but not terrible,” he answered. “Someone with a healing quirk had only reattached the major nerves and blood vessels in your leg, but since it was there at all, it took less out of both of you.”

Eri's humming went from melodic to more of a grumble as she got impatient.  

Naomasa lowered his hands, then asked Shōta, “Better?”

“Yeah,” Shōta replied. 

Naomasa flinched. 

Shōta gave him an apologetic look before holding Eri's face in his hands like she was still holding his. “So you're a hero too, huh?”

Eri beamed. “Yeah! Jiji and Tsuki-san helped! I got a tummyache and was real tired after, but they helped with that too.”

“I'm so proud of you, bug,” Shōta said as he smoothed her hair. He could feel the shake in his breath but thankfully it wasn't audible. “I'm sorry I couldn't turn it off for you like usual.”

“That's okay, Daddy,” Eri said with a grin. “Jiji said you had to do lots of scary hero things too, but I didn't ask because of his ears.”

Shōta looked at Naomasa, who looked just as perplexed. 

“What do you mean about Nezu-san's ears?” Naomasa asked. 

“You're the detective and everything,” Eri teased. “Daddy told me before that Jiji's ears get the nervous wiggles.” 

Eri put her hands up by her head and demonstrated the way his ears flick.

Shōta stared at her. “How are you so good, Eri-chan?”

“You always say how important it is to use my eyes and my ears,” Eri shrugged and settled herself against Shōta's chest.

“She would make a good detective,” Naomasa said with a smile. 

“Yeah!” she cheered. “I got to spend a lot of time with Tsuki-san while Jiji waited for you to wake up. I made lots of police friends.”

“Speaking of,” Naomasa cut in. “I have a lot to catch up on. Will you be okay until Nezu-san wakes?”

“Of course,” Shōta answered, running his hands through Eri's hair. 

A flinch made Naomasa ask another way. “You don't need me to stay?”

Shōta sighed. “No, Nao.”

Naomasa relaxed at the non-ping of his quirk. “I don't mind if–”

“Go.” Shōta waved Naomasa off, wanting to avoid more questions. “And…thank you…for all of it.”

Naomasa's face twisted briefly. Then he looked over the two of them and his muted, determined smile took over. “Happy to do it.”

After Naomasa left, Shōta rested his chin atop Eri's head. 

Eri yawned loudly and he chuckled.

“Chiyo-san said I might still be extra tired for a few more days,” Eri said indignantly. “So don't make fun of my hero naps.”

“I would never. Who would understand hero naps better than me?” he asked, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. “You can sleep. I've got you.”

This moment might be a delusion. If it was, he decided it was a delusion he wanted to stay in. 

 

Chapter 3: Deciding Isn't the Same As Convincing

Summary:

"The class that refused to be shown up by their teacher, a badass that literally cut off his own leg in the middle of a battle to keep his own quirk in the fight!”

Shōta raised an eyebrow.

Breaking character for a moment, Hizashi said, “who the f<$: even does that, by the way? And like…HOW?!”

“A person that knows the stakes and pays attention to tantō maintenance.”

“I honestly don't know what else I expected you to say.”

Shōta growled. 

He was asleep. What idiot with a death wish was poking him repeatedly in the cheek?

A snicker. “Come on, come on, come on!”

“Mic.”

“Eraser.”

“Why?”

“Why what, baby? Why am I so irresistibly charming?”

Shōta groaned and opened his eyes to give Hizashi a flat look. “Why are you like this?”

“That's the same question,” Hizashi said with a mischievous grin and a wink. “I start by being ridiculously handsome…”

Shōta tried to pull the blanket up over his head to hide his blush. 

“Aww, don't go back to sleep!” Hizashi whined, stopping the blanket’s climb at Shōta's nose. “The doctors said they want to get you up and moving around today.”

Shōta narrowed his eyes at Hizashi. 

“I'll buy you coffee. Reaaaaal coffee,” Hizashi sing-songed.

“No,” Shōta answered immediately. 

“They just want to see if everything works, just in case something didn't rewind right,” Hizashi said, waving a pair of slippers at him. “Then you can go home.”

Shōta lowered the blanket but didn't immediately grab the slippers. 

“Never thought I'd see the day where I'd be convincing you to leave a hospital room instead of wrestling you out of an open window,” Hizashi laughed, swinging to hit Shōta in the chest with the slippers.

Scowling, Shōta caught the slippers before they struck him. Hizashi was just a little too slow dodging the return swing at his arm. He yelped. Shōta cracked a small smile and hunched his shoulders before remembering that he didn't have his scarf to hide in. 

Hizashi's smile turned a little less Present Mic and a little more Yamada Hizashi. “I told them that you'd try to spike any monitoring equipment with extreme prejudice, so they said we just have to do a few laps around the ward first before visiting the caffeination station.”

Shōta smirked wickedly. “You know me too well. I'll have to find some other hospital property to destroy instead.”

“There's the slightly deranged Eraser we know and love,” Hizashi laughed.

Familiar warmth filled Shōta's chest. Despite his high energy, Hizashi had always managed to make him feel calmer. More himself somehow, in all the best ways. 

Hizashi yanked the bedding off his legs. “Come on, grumpy pants. Fancy cappuccino awaits!”

“Insufferable,” Shōta complained as he put on the slippers and got to his feet. 

“Exceeept you've been suffering my company for 15 years,” Hizashi teased. He grabbed Shōta's arm and pulled him toward the door. “Kinda makes it hard to believe that's how you really feel.”

“Whatever, “ Shōta mumbled, letting himself be dragged. 

Hizashi walked through the door. “One of the nurses said the cafe has really good strawberry cake too, if you're hungry.”

Shōta shrugged and stepped into the hallway.

Too bright.

Shōta focused his narrowed vision on Hizashi's swaying ponytail as he was pulled forward.

The smell and taste of iron.

His mouth went dry.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He forced himself to swallow.

The person stopped writhing.

He stopped too.

Spinning to glance back, Hizashi's grin quickly disappeared. 

Shōta couldn't understand what Hizashi was saying. He felt like he was going to pass out, but he desperately did not want to be unconscious here. Each breath was a battle as he rested his hands and his head against the wall. Realizing that what he wanted was irrelevant, he carefully lowered himself to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Hizashi's help, and his head came to rest on something soft. 

When he resurfaced, Shōta didn't know how much time had passed. He was laying on his back with his head in Hizashi's lap. The sights around him were blocked by a curtain of Hizashi's hair, and it was abnormally quiet. He reached up to his ears and realized he was wearing Hizashi's noise-cancelling headphones.

Hizashi's eyes shifted at Shōta's movement, but he didn't move his head. Shōta realized he didn't want to risk the visual blocker of his hair.

“Where are we?” Shōta signed with shaky hands.

“Hospital,” Hizashi signed back.

Shōta shook his head. “But where?”

“Near the nurse's station.”

The cries.

Shōta quickly signed, “No hallway. Anywhere else. Now.”

Hizashi's eyes crinkled, then widened in understanding. He nodded and motioned for Shōta to close his eyes. 

His legs were rubbery underneath him. Hizashi put Shōta's arms over his shoulders and lifted him into a cross-body carry. Shōta pressed his face into Hizashi's neck and tightened his hold. 

Hizashi took a few steps before halting abruptly. Shōta could tell by the intensifying vibrations of Hizashi's voice that he was arguing with someone. Then his long, confident strides resumed.

Shōta focused on the sense of safety. The feeling of Hizashi's skin. His sweet natural scent mixed with the woodsy soap he'd used since high school. 

This was a different all-consuming ache.

After an elevator ride and a half-flight of stairs, Hizashi stopped. They'd been stopped for a few minutes when Shōta tapped his shoulder. Hizashi moved the headphones off one of Shōta's ears. A loud mechanical hum replaced the normal hospital background noise. 

“Sorry,” Hizashi muttered, clearly frustrated.

“What…?”

“I'm trying to pick a lock.”

Cautiously lifting his head, Shōta saw that they were on a nondescript stairwell landing. He got back on his own feet and put the headphones around his neck.

“Let me,” Shōta said, nudging Hizashi out of the way. The latch clicked within seconds. “Who brings a lockpick set to a hospital anyway?"

“Someone who knows what his friend likes and plans accordingly.” Hizashi stuck out his tongue and pushed the door open. 

Air rushed past them as they stepped onto the roof. 

Shōta closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The wind was gentler once they were all the way outside, but still strong enough to blow the hair back off of his face. Shōta released a full exhale for the first time since they'd left for Jaku. “Okay, I take back half of the mean things I've ever said about you.”

“Only half?!” Hizashi squawked.

Chuckling, Shōta answered, “take it or leave it.”

Hizashi sighed dramatically. “Fiiiiine.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Hizashi spoke again. 

“We didn't know,” Hizashi said quietly. “You were so messed up that we thought you must have been unconscious before you even got here.”

"I didn't think..." Shōta huffed, frustrated by his own struggle for words. "I thought I could handle it."

Shōta turned his head to look at Hizashi, who shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

“Your class is fucking metal, by the way.” 

Hizashi was redirecting to what should have been a safer topic. Shōta managed to not visibly twitch. There was no safer topic when you struggled to trust anything you thought you knew.

“Oh?”

The other man lit up. “Nobody's told you yet? Ahhhhhh!”

Hizashi was clearly clicking into his Present Mic storytelling mode. 

“Class 1-A, the class that survived villain attacks at the USJ and their summer camp! The class whose work study students took down part of a drug ring and raided the yakuza! The class that helped capture the Hero Killer and All For One! The class that refused to be shown up by their teacher, a badass that literally cut off his own leg in the middle of a battle to keep his own quirk in the fight!”

Shōta raised an eyebrow.

Breaking character for a moment, Hizashi said, “who the fuck even does that, by the way? And like…HOW?!”

“A person that knows the stakes and pays attention to tantō maintenance.”

“I honestly don't know what else I expected you to say.”

“Doesn't matter. We lost anyway.” Shōta crossed his arms and shrugged.

The Present Mic persona fell away entirely. “Shō, you don't really think it was meaningless.”

Shōta looked at Hizashi blankly. Hizashi took Shōta's shoulders and turned him so they were fully facing each other.

His eyes were so bright they were practically glowing. “It wasn't meaningless. Do you know how much harder everyone there fought because of what they saw you do? How much harder everyone else has been fighting since, because of the way that story spread?”

As Hizashi spoke, anger built up until it came out screaming. “Great! So glad it helped everybody else! But when I thought that help had arrived for everyone that was bleeding and broken, that we would finally be safe, I still died alone in a hallway!”

“You didn't,” Hizashi said, his voice tight and high pitched. “You're right here. I'm holding you.”

Shōta's mind caught up with what he'd said. 

This was real. He decided this was real. Or real enough. A delusion he'd go along with, at least. Apparently deciding wasn't the same as convincing yourself.

Hizashi, always the more expressive one, burst into tears. Shōta, always the more reserved one, temporarily froze.

And then the guilt nearly knocked him over. 

“I'm sorry, Zashi, I'm sorry.” He tried to wipe away the tears but they were flowing too quickly down Hizashi's cheeks. “Please, don't…”

Hizashi hiccuped and pulled Shōta into a crushing hug. “You're here. With me.”

“I'm here. With you,” Shōta repeated. He didn't really believe it, but even he knew it's what Hizashi needed to hear. Maybe it was what he needed to hear too.

“I should have gone with you when you went after the kids.”

“No, we made the right choice. You needed to finish the mission,” Shōta replied firmly. “For all of us, and for Oboro.”

“I would never have let them lose you,” Hizashi insisted. 

“Hey,” Shōta pushed Hizashi away a little so he could see his face, hands on Hizashi's shoulders. “I know you. You would have fought just as hard and been as incapacitated as the rest of us. It went the way it needed to go. Okay?” 

Shōta surprised himself by completely believing what he'd said. His hands dropped to his sides. The touch made the swirling emotions too intense for him to withstand.

“What you did matters. What happened to you after matters,” Hizashi gave him a weak smile. “You matter, to so many people.” 

Unsure how to deal with the genuineness of the statement, Shōta looked down and shook his head.

“God, Shō, how do you still think so little of yourself?” Hizashi scrubbed his face with his hands rapidly to wipe away the remaining tears.

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Look at me?”

Shōta didn't lift his head, but lifted his gaze slightly.

Hizashi smiled. “You matter to me.”

“Fine, okay, can we please move on?”

Giggling, Hizashi shook his head. “Not til you believe it.”

“We'll never leave this roof,” Shōta deadpanned and looked out at the skyline.

“Come on.” Hizashi poked him in the chest. “Shōtaaaaaaa.”

Shōta smiled a little but didn't look.

“Shō,” Hizashi said in his most obnoxious whine, poking his chest faster. “Look at meeeeeeeee.”

The smile widened. He still didn't look.

Upping his assault to using both his index fingers, Hizashi's giggles became nearly hysterical.

Shōta gave up to a full smile, even showing his teeth. 

Hizashi's giggles stopped, and Shōta finally turned his head. Hizashi was still watching him. 

“What?” Shōta asked.

“I love getting you to smile like that,” Hizashi answered sheepishly.

Shōta's smile faded to a more reserved, close-lipped one. Hizashi was going to kill him with all these earnest little statements. They poked at the carefully contained feelings that managed to keep growing stronger.

Hizashi sighed and bit the inside of his cheek. 

Shōta narrowed his eyes at the blonde. “What?”

A head shake. His clenched jaw worked side to side.

“You'll hurt yourself,” Shōta said gently. “Whatever you have to say, however you need to say it, it's fine. I'm a grown up.’

When Hizashi didn't answer, Shōta reached out to massage Hizashi's overworked jaw muscles at the joint. Shōta's fingers worked back toward Hizashi's ears and then down along his jawline.

“Come on, Zash,” Shōta encouraged. 

Shōta stopped, his fingers hovering in place. Hizashi usually closed his eyes on the rare occasion that Shōta did this, but not today.

Hizashi took a deep breath and kissed him.

It was barely a press of their lips, really. Now Hizashi was watching Shōta's reaction, or lack of one. 

Hizashi's eyes turned dark and he began to withdraw. Shōta's hands resettled to hold Hizashi's face just before he could go too far. Shōta drew Hizashi back toward him, holding his gaze. He wrapped one arm around Hizashi's waist and pulled him close before pressing a gentle kiss of his own to Hizashi's lips.

Shōta didn't release him when their lips separated. Hizashi's hands rested on Shōta's chest. Hizashi's fingers tightened on Shōta's shirt and they moved back together. 

When Shōta stroked Hizashi's cheek with his thumb, the other man opened his mouth. Shōta deepened the kiss slowly. He had waited 15 years for this after all. 

He needed this to be right. And he needed it to be real.

 

Notes:

Hizashi would know about those wounded or killed.

If nobody had told Shōta about 1-A's accomplishments, they definitely haven't shared any of the losses.

Poor Zashi.

Chapter 4: Departure

Shōta stood in the hospital lobby and looked toward the tall glass doors leading outside. He hooked a hand in his capture scarf. 

Just touching the fabric released a floral scent. It had done the same when he'd thrown it around his neck this morning. Suzuki Keiko, a frequent nurse of his, admitted to having taken it home to wash when she figured out his plan the previous day. 

The ward's staff had apparently all panicked when she shared the realization. It was always dangerous to travel in scrubs while carrying a plastic hospital bag. It was like putting a sign on your back that said “easy target.” They said it had gotten dramatically worse due to prison breaks, plus many other departing patients were the heroes that the public was becoming so disillusioned with. 

Between them, the staff assembled a variety of clothes that were close to his size. What fit best was a dark pink t-shirt, black track pants, and black athletic shoes with yellow soles. Not what he'd typically leave home in, but the clothes were comfortable and the gesture was comforting.

He took out the earplugs and turned to the nurse who'd given them to him. “Thank you, Suzuki-san, for…getting me past all that. Down here.”

“Keiko, please.” She smiled at him gently. “I saw how it went earlier this week. I couldn't let you go through it again without your friend.”

“Shōta, then.” He hunched his shoulders and looked down to hide his face, feeling infinitely more himself with his scarf back where it belonged. 

“Oh,” the nurse said, quickly putting a hand over her mouth to cover her giggle. “Now I see why you do that, with that on.”  

His scarf couldn't save him from the blush that moved all the way to his ears. 

She took a canvas bag off her shoulder and held it out to him with the top open wide. “Put those earplugs somewhere easy to find in case you need them again.”

He looked in the bag and found a small side pocket to deposit them in. Despite the damage it had taken, his hero suit had clearly been carefully washed and folded before being placed at the bottom of the bag. The floral-scented softener wafting up gave away that it was Keiko's doing too. On top were his goggles and utility belt, also cleaned. The belt's first-aid pouches looked restocked. Tucked alongside it all was a card-sized envelope and 5000 yen. 

Keiko settled the bag on his shoulder and looked him over with one corner of her lips pursed tightly, and he felt distinctly but not unpleasantly mothered.

“You'll stay in touch, won't you Shōta?” She patted his cheek. “We want to keep good track of you from now on.”

His eyes burned, but stayed clear. The dry-eye had been more intense since he'd woken up and he was momentarily glad for it. Unable to speak with the tightness in his throat, he nodded to Keiko.

“Go on, before I make a scene,” Keiko said, blinking rapidly. 

He stepped back to bow, then pushed through the doors. 

Now to convince himself. If this was all some delusion, it would be imperfect. Nezu, Eri, and Hizashi had described an unrecognizable UA. It had changed so much that going directly there wouldn't help clarify anything. He needed to go to other people and places he knew well. He had to see if an inexcusable number of incongruities stacked up, or if he could otherwise strain the delusion to its breaking point. Only then could he feel sure. 

Hizashi and Nezu didn't fully grasp what he was struggling with. They would have said it was too dangerous, and tried to devise some other way. But Shōta couldn't wait another moment to look for answers.

---

Shōta took the train as far as he could and saw few people. By the time the damage to the line stopped his progress, the previously bustling area was largely abandoned. Most buildings had been damaged and some had collapsed. 

Locating a building with an intact fire escape took a few minutes. He climbed to the top and sat on the cement to sort out the bag. He nearly choked when he saw that it was emblazoned with, “chaos coordinator, because miracle worker isn't a job title.”

He put his goggles onto his head and placed the utility belt down. Cash was stored into one of the pockets that still held his hero license and wallet, and the earplugs were stuffed alongside some gauze in another pocket. He'd like to dispose of the damaged hero costume, but that would need to wait until he could do so securely. 

The card had a kitten with a bandage on the front. It was signed in multitude of colors by all the doctors, nurses, and assistants on the floor. The inside had no pre-printed sentiment, but someone had written in its place, “Take good care of yourself!” The word “yourself” was traced over in a second color, emphasized with starburst-like lines surrounding it with a third color, and underlined by what seemed to be all the others. 

Carefully, the card and the feelings it generated were tucked away within the folded hero suit, and the canvas bag was wrapped snugly around it. Once he loosened the utility belt, he used it to secure the folded bag against his lower back. 

He looked around himself to get his bearings while he stretched. His first several jumps were short and careful, but he quickly returned to his normal speed and difficulty. As he approached a gap created by a collapsed building, he sent out his scarf before he could overthink it. He landed after the graceful arc through the air and kept running.

15 minutes later, he came a stop in front of the warehouse storefront he'd been looking for and was glad to see it was mostly intact. He lifted his goggles to his forehead as he opened the door.

Hotta Ichiro shrieked. His brother, Jiro, ran out from a back room wielding a baseball bat. 

“Eraser!” Jiro said, lowering the bat. “You aren't dead!”

Shōta leveled him with a skeptical look.

“He means that of course you're not dead,” Ichiro jumped in, figuratively and literally. A hop placed him between Shōta and his twin. “We just…we heard that you died like a week or two ago. In Kyoto.”

The story being too long and too much, Shōta simply said, “I'm undercaffeinated.”

Jiro laughed loudly. “The pink shirt made me worried it was an evil doppelganger, but that's definitely him.”

Ichiro shrugged. “I dunno, the pink kind of works.”

He glared at them. “Fix it.”

Jiro sprung behind the counter dropped the bat. He hurried to pour Shōta a cup of coffee. Shōta sat down in front of him and took a drink even though it was steaming.

“Surprised you're still here,” Shōta said looking at Jiro over the top of the mug.

Ichiro answered from behind him. “Naruhata’s always been kind of a mess. But it's our mess.”

Shōta grunted in reply. 

“It's been different lately though, even before the big fight,” Jiro admitted, leaning on his elbows. “Things have been a little rougher since Ingenium passed his title. It's a good thing Crawler took over or it would be even worse.”

“You were friends with Ingenium, right? He doing okay? He doesn't come by anymore.” Ichiro sat on the stool next to Shōta.

Shōta shrugged and gave a “so-so” wave of his hand.

“I wonder if baby Ingenium will come to Naruhata when he's done training?” Jiro wondered aloud. 

“If he does, he'll definitely keep you honest,” Shōta answered. He looked up at Jiro with his most sadistic smile. “He's my student.”

Jiro held his hands up. 

“We've been good since you left,” Ichiro chipped in. “We even sponsor a kids’ baseball team.”

“Hmm. Good,” Shōta conceded, taking another drink of coffee. 

“Why do you always have to be so scary, Eraser?” Jiro asked as he lowered his hands again. 

“I don't want you getting sucked back down,” Shōta grumbled. 

“Big bad Eraserhead loves us!” Ichiro exclaimed. 

The energy behind Jiro's manic smile tipped over into repeated hopping. “Awwwww!”

 

Shōta finished his coffee and stood. Tiredly, he muttered, “get over yourselves.”

“He didn't deny it!” Ichiro crowed.

Cash on the counter, Shōta stalked toward the door.

Ichiro's confused voice called, “You're leaving already?”

Shōta held up a hand in dismissal without turning. 

“Wait!” Jiro landed beside Shōta.

Shōta stopped with one hand on the door.

“You know how much we love Miss Midnight,” Jiro said. “Have ever since you two first started comin’ around here.” 

Jiro's suddenly calm and serious voice set off alarm bells in Shōta's head. 

Ichiro walked over with a newspaper in hand. “It never said nothin’ about you, but the Times said that Midnight died fighting that giant man thing. But it could be wrong too, right?”

Shōta spun and took the paper from him and skimmed the section of the article Ichiro pointed to. 

After reading it three times, he shoved the paper back into Ichiro's chest and opened the door. “Sorry, fanboys. The Times doesn't print anything that they don't independently confirm multiple times over.”

The door slammed behind him and he launched himself up. The city was damaged, but nothing about the Hottas seemed off. Nothing to put what he'd just read into doubt. He needed the quiet of the rooftops.

Chapter 5: Sanya Sojourn

Summary:

“I'm from Sanya,” Naoki piped up. “Like Aizawa-sensei.”

Jiro raised an eyebrow at Shōta. “You're from Sanya?”

Instead of answering, Shōta picked up his empty mug and wiggled it at Jiro.

Naoki rolled his eyes. “He grew up 3 blocks from me, off Kyu-tokaido.”

Grinning, Ichiro said, "Ooh, Eraser lore.”

“Now I get why he's scary,” Jiro mused, refilling Shōta's mug.

Notes:

Shōta accidentally goes home, to the slum he grew up in. He talks with a neighborhood matriarch and reconnects with a kid from his past.

(Sanya is a real place in Tokyo. It has such a negative reputation that it was taken off the map as a distinct ward. Officially it was split, with parts of it incorporated into 2 other wards. The residents keep Sanya alive as a distinct place and as part of their identities.)

Shōta had asked Nezu at least once about Nemuri visiting. What answer had he gotten? The memory was all out of focus, like much of the past 11 days. No doubt that the rat had made use of that to distract or redirect the conversation. 

Or maybe they had told him about Nemuri's death, and Shōta's rattled mind had blocked it out.

The fact that Shōta wasn't stable enough to know was horrifying.

He tried to puzzle it out, to be rational.

All he could think about, though, was the overwhelming and very irrational need to hit something. To make it hurt. To feel like it mattered.

All For One and the Doctor took Oboro from them. Now the man's successor and their “pet” took Nemuri.

The only one not yet captured? The successor. Shigaraki landed him in that God forsaken hallway. Shigaraki nearly killed Midoriya and Bakugo too. Now, because of it all, Shigaraki was stealing away Shōta's sanity.

Unless he wasn't. Maybe his sanity had gone somewhere else along the way, and Shigaraki was just his mind’s excuse for it.

Confusion. Pain. Fury. Without a vent, it filled his chest and flooded his senses. 

He nearly tripped for the second time, this time when launching himself across an alley. He was a danger to himself like this. He scowled and sat on the edge of the rooftop that he'd stopped on. 

“Get out of here, you!”

He glared down at the street below, trying to locate the source of the voice.

“We don't want any more drifting hooligans around!” 

He startled when a rock bounced off his chest. He looked down the street to where it came from and made eye contact with an elderly woman. She stood in the doorway to a small store with rocks of various sizes hovering in the air around her.

Shōta's eyes widened and he actually looked at the street. He hadn't meant to, consciously at least, but he'd ended up in Sanya. The damage to surrounding neighborhoods meant he hadn't noticed either.

He jumped down the fire escape, barely leaping out of the way when a rusty crossbar broke away under his feet.

He grumbled to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets on his walk towards the woman. “Peak Sanya.”

She threw another couple rocks at him. 

“Stop that, Oba-san!”

“I'm no Oba-san to you, troublemaker!” she scolded and threw a half-dozen larger rocks. 

Shōta activated Erasure and the rocks clattered to the ground. He blinked the effect away quickly.

The woman's manner shifted and she put her hands on her hips. “Shō-chan?”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Mita-san.”

“So now you reappear after, what, 10 years?”

Shōta sighed. “4.”

“Come closer, boy, I can't hear you!”

“I said it's been 4 years, Mita-san,” he said louder. 

When he got close enough, Shōta gave a long and respectful bow. Mita-san hit him in the back of the head with a newspaper for his effort.

He took a slow breath in before straightening.

“I will make an effort to visit more often,” he said stiffly.

Mita-san seemed satisfied with that and pulled him inside the convenience store. “I saw you on that press conference a few months ago. Hot-headed as always. You might have pulled one over on those reporters, but I could see it in your eyes.”

Shōta huffed. “Because you're the model of tranquility.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, pointing to a seat at the small table in the back room. Shōta sat obediently and Mita-san poured them both tea. 

“You haven't been back since your grandmother passed away. And it's been over a week since the rest of the city got a makeover to match Sanya. So?” She dropped a sugar cube into her tea and stirred, waiting for his answer. 

Shōta looked at the tea. “So why now?”

Mita-san hummed and lifted the cup with unsteady hands.

He frowned. “Are you unwell, Oba-san?”

“Just getting old. Wondering if I'll ever get to meet a little Sho-chan,” she said with a wink. 

He took out his wallet and put a small photograph on the table, pushing it over to her.

Her whole demeanor lifted when she picked it up. She perched a pair of glasses on her nose. Mita-san squinted at the photo and then at him.

“This girl is more than 4, and she looks nothing like you.”

“Are you accusing me of carrying around a fake picture, so that if I happen to end up in Sanya getting pelted with rocks, I can trick you?”

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that,” she said leaning back. 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I adopted her. This year.”

“I, not we?”

“Oba-san.”

“Fine, fine,” she waved. “Just seems like a lot to take on.”

“UA has dorms now, for students and staff,” he answered. He sipped Mita-san's tea and tried not to make a face when it was as awful as he remembered. “My whole class adores her, plus a few upperclass students. And the rest of the staff help out too.”

“And that mouse that took you?” 

Shōta knew better than to react. It was a sore spot that would never heal. “He's a good Jiji to Eri.”

“Eri, hmm?” she smiled and lifted the picture to examine it again. 

A clatter came from the store behind him.

Mita-san didn't seem to hear. Shōta stood and looked at the mirror pointed over the aisles. Someone was stuffing a backpack from the shelves.  

“I'll be right back, Oba-san,” he muttered, sliding out of the back room. 

Silently, he lapped the store to make sure there was no one else. He crept back toward the teen once he was sure.

The boy turned to leave as Shōta turned down the aisle. Screaming, the alarmed teen started to back away while whipping canned goods at him. At least the kid was smart. 

“Hey!” Shōta snarled.

Now past the canned goods section, the teen resorted to condiments. The teen pushed back his hood to look for his best exit. 

Shōta stopped advancing and slapped a plastic bottle of barbecue sauce out of the air. “Naoki-kun?”

The boy froze with a bottle of soy sauce reeled back. “Do I know you?”

Shota relaxed and pushed his hair back so Naoki could see his face. 

Naoki paled and bowed. “Sensei.”

“I didn't teach you so you could get out of stealing cup noodles, Naoki-kun,” Shōta said flatly. 

Naoki straightened, his fists at his sides. “The only place that would hire me got destroyed last week! What do you want me to do?!”

Shōta took a deep breath and nodded. “I see. Do you have anyone? Any place to stay?”

A stare at the floor. The answer was no then. His very first Problem Child was back to being a problem.

“Come.” Shōta walked toward the back room, watching his peripheral to make sure Naoki was following. 

They stepped into the back room together. It looked different than it did before. Dark. Cluttered. Chairs thrown aside. No teacups. It looked like it had been deserted for a day or two based on the mold starting on a plated piece of toast next to where his wallet lay. He picked up the wallet and returned the photo to its place.

“It's all wrong, isn't it? Mita-san would hate it.” Naoki said with a grimace. “They killed her in the early looting. If it wasn't so early, she probably wouldn't have even gotten a proper burial.”

Shōta swallowed. “Right…well, come on Problem Child. Let's get you figured out.”

---

Shōta pushed Naoki through the door in front of him. 

“Eraser missed us already!” Jiro chirped.

Ichiro lifted his head from where he'd just set coffee down in front of a customer. “Ha! He definitely loves us!”

Naoki looked around the space as Shōta steered him to the counter. 

“I already regret everything,” Shōta groused.

Jiro put a cup of coffee down in front of Shōta. 

“Except this," Shōta amended, gratefully downing half of the steaming cup.

Ichiro, back behind the counter with his twin, began to brew a fresh pot. “Still terrifying that you can do that, Eraser. What can we get you, kid?”

Shōta was relieved they spoke to Naoki. It meant he was really there. He shook the vision of Mita-san from his head, and nodded to Naoki.

“Hot chocolate?”

Jiro nodded energetically and got to work.

Ichiro put a slice of strawberry cake in front of Shōta. “About before–”

“I need your help,” Shōta cut him off, taking the proffered fork.

Ichiro looked at Jiro, then back to Shōta, in disbelief. “Uh…sure. Whatever you need.”

Jiro placed Naoki's hot chocolate down. The teen seized on it, and Shōta wondered when Naoki last ate.

Shōta glanced at the pastry case. “Chocolate for him, with lots of that caramel drizzle shit.”

Naoki lit up. “You remembered my favorite?”

“Course, kid,” Shōta answered around his mouthful of cake.

“Told you he's a big softy,” Ichiro said to Jiro.

Naoki laughed. “They got you there.”

Shōta sighed instead of protesting.

“Soooooo?” Jiro asked, hopping foot to foot.

“You two know what it's like to get shit for your quirk,” Shōta said matter-of-factly.

The brothers nodded.

“Met this kid when he was 7, when I first came to Naruhata,” Shōta explained.

“He's not a Naruhata kid. We know all of ‘em,” Ichiro said with a touch of pride.

“I'm from Sanya,” Naoki piped up. “Like Aizawa-sensei.”

Jiro raised an eyebrow at Shōta. “You're from Sanya?”

Instead of answering, Shōta picked up his empty mug and wiggled it at Jiro. 

Naoki rolled his eyes. “He grew up 3 blocks from me, off Kyu-tokaido.”

Grinning, Ichiro said, "Ooh, Eraser lore.”

“Now I get why he's scary,” Jiro mused, refilling Shōta's mug.

Ichiro smacked his brother in the chest with a towel. Jiro suddenly noticed that he'd spoken.

“Anyway!” Shōta's patience was getting thin. “I met Naoki-kun, here, at my old dojo. I taught him how to defend himself, and how to fight when he had to. Midnight used him against me to get me to teach at UA. Said I was already doing the work.”

They all fell silent.

Shōta quickly filled the increasingly heavy air around them. “He can't find a job. With most places falling apart, you're probably busier. Can you help him get back on his feet? Assuming he's kept up with his training, he'd also be able to help you defend the place.”

“You don’t usually help people that ain't helping themselves, Eraser. So why?” Ichiro questioned. “There's plenty of work, especially with all the rebuilding going on.”

“Nobody will hire me because I'm quirkless,” Naoki admitted quietly.

The brothers’ faces softened in perfect synchronization. They nodded to each other.

Jiro hopped beside Naoki, putting his arm around the teen. “All right, kid, you're an honorary Hotta for as long as you need to be. What can you do in the kitchen?”

The brothers began talking rapidly to Naoki and each other. Shōta reached over the counter for the fresh carafe of coffee, topped off his mug, and set it on the counter within his reach. 

He was left to his own thoughts, to figure out what the hell happened to him in Mita-san's shop.

Chapter 6: Time to Coordinate Some Chaos

Summary:

“How does he manage to consume that much coffee and not have his heart explode?” Jiro whispered.

“Better question is how does he do it, but still manage to fall asleep immediately after?” Ichiro whispered back.

“He's always been like that,” Naoki said at a regular speaking volume.

The brothers shushed him loudly.

“You know he can hear you, don't you?” Naoki asked. “He's not actually asleep right now.”

Notes:

Shōta realizes this "convincing himself" is going to take some time, and he'll need to take some evasive actions.

Shōta decided to stick around the Hottas’ café for a little while, in part to be a familiar presence while Naoki got to know the brothers. He could gather his thoughts, decide his next moves. By then, he'd need to leave. Naomasa would think to check with the Hottas once they realized he'd left the hospital.

He wordlessly set himself up at a corner table. He tapped the pen in his hands on the small stack of blank paper. How do you start deciding what's real or not without falling into circular logic?

He let his eyes close for a moment. If this were one of Nezu's puzzles…

Imagining himself slouching into a chair in Nezu's office was easy. He spent so much time there it was as natural as breathing. The smell of aged leather and fur conditioning oil. The slightly cooler temperature Nezu preferred. Window shades tilting the sunlight up, onto the ceiling. The light clink of teacups.

He wanted to linger. He wanted the comfort of this space, even if he didn't dare to imagine his Otōsan into it.

He tilted his head to crack his neck. A physical sensation prompting him to disconnect just enough. He reminded himself that he needed to get back to his knowing first.

He imagined looking to Nezu's dry-erase wall, usually hidden by moveable panels. On it, the question. “If you completely lost touch with reality, where do you start re-anchoring yourself?”

Was that what he'd done? Completely lost touch with reality? Before the crushing fear could paralyze him, he pushed that thought away. 

When was the last time he knew? Where he felt confident, without doubt, sure of what was?

That hallway that he may have physically left, but definitely had not been able to leave behind. 

Of course the only thing he knew was agony, uselessness, and the steady approach of his end. 

“Want a refill, Eraser?”

Shōta physically recoiled, his eyes wide. Ichiro stood a couple feet back, holding up the coffee pot, with a sympathetic expression. Shōta slowed his breathing and clenched his hands into fists to still them. 

At Shōta's nod, Ichiro stepped forward and poured. “If the case you're working has you this jumpy, maybe we should switch you to decaf.”

“Do you really want to see what I'm like with caffeine withdrawals?” 

Ichiro considered it. “That depends how long it would last before you crashed.”

“I'd last long enough to track down the fool that tried to switch me to decaf and hoped that I wouldn't notice,” Shōta returned, eyeing the orange rim to the coffee pot in Ichiro's hand. 

Ichiro looked at the coffee pot. “Oh! Silly me, grabbed the wrong one. I'll be right back!”

Shōta shook his head as Ichiro returned to the counter. 

He returned to his thoughts, but a little clearer for the interruption. Was the only thing that he knew from the very end?

---

Shōta watched a stretcher to his left get lifted from the ground. He looked at the military field medic nearest to him. “We're going with my kids, right?”

“That blonde one?”

“And the green one,” he pointed at Midoriya, who was awake but not exactly aware.

“I'll make sure,” the medic answered. “Don't worry. We need you to keep up the slow and steady breaths, okay?”

The medic spoke quickly into the radio on his shoulder. Midoriya's stretcher was lifted and moved next. 

Shōta grasped urgently at the other man's arm. “Hibino.”

“We're going now,” Hibino assured. Nodding to another medic, Shōta's own stretcher raised and started to move. “This is Furuya Eri. Her quirk can remove biological impurities.”

He looked to the woman. “Your name is Eri?”

She smiled and nodded. “I usually help with transplants, but I heard there's some kind of biological agent we need to get out before you'll let Hibino start on your leg.”

He nodded. “From another Eri. My Eri.”

Furuya smiled in the soothing way medics do to move through a crisis without getting a patient worked up.

Hibino pointed out Bakugo and Midoriya once they were aboard the helicopter. The teens were getting help from their own teams of one or two.

He watched them, detached from time, until Hibino got his attention again. Hibino leaned close to be heard over the rotors.

“Furuya's got your leg ready. We're landing at Central Hospital in about 30 minutes. I'm going to do as much as I can to save it.”

Shōta nodded.

“I'll reattach the major blood vessels first, then I'll move to nerves. Not sure I'll get much past that, but it should keep your leg viable until Central can treat you,” Hibino continued. “I'm going to give you some pain medication. We can't risk it knocking you out so it won't do nearly enough, especially when I get to the nerves. I'm sorry about that.”

Hibino injected something into his IV line and got to work. 

Shōta only had bleary memories of landing and moving through Central. Hibino's description was spot on, and shock had set in full force.

The first 10 minutes, spent on repairing major blood vessels, were bearable. Reconnecting nerves was slow, detailed work, plus it had everything to do with sensations. The last 20 minutes of the flight were torment.

---

“How does he manage to consume that much coffee and not have his heart explode?” Jiro whispered.

“Better question is how does he do it, but still manage to fall asleep immediately after?” Ichiro whispered back. 

“He's always been like that,” Naoki said at a regular speaking volume.

The brothers shushed him loudly.

“You know he can hear you, don't you?” Naoki asked. “He's not actually asleep right now.”

Shōta was comfortably nestled in a chair with his arms crossed and his face ducked partially into his scarf. His feet rested on the seat of another chair. He wasn't in a rush to move.

He waited until the twins had moved closer to examine him and gotten overly sure of themselves. Only then did he open his eyes, quirk activating immediately. “Well done, Problem Child.”

The brothers tripped over each other in their scramble away from him. Naoki laughed and shook his head as he wiped down a table.

“Scary!” Jiro squeaked, pointing at Shōta. 

“Mmm.” His quirk shut off when he closed his eyes in a yawn. “Time's it?”

“11:30. Don't you have to get back to like…masterminding a war or something in Shizuoka?” Ichiro asked. 

Shōta tilted his head. “Is there a reason you're especially anxious to get rid of me?”

“Uh. No…?” Ichiro replied.

“You sound unsure.” Shōta said blandly.

“No. Not unsure. Or anxious. At all,” Ichiro laughed uncomfortably. 

Shōta looked at Naoki. “Keep these idiots out of trouble.”

Naoki bowed his head. “Yes, sensei.”

Jiro looked at Naoki, then at Shōta. “I thought we were looking after him?”

“You are,” Shōta agreed. “I caught him taking food out of an abandoned store. Alone. In this whole mess.” 

“I can take care of myself!” Naoki protested.

“Sure,” Shōta said, unimpressed. “I don't trust any of you on your own. The opportunity is too high for the Hottas to easily keep their noses clean, and the risk is too high for Naoki to survive entirely on his own. Keep each other out of trouble.”

“He loves us!” Ichiro crowed, jumping up onto a table. “I told you!”

Shōta rolled his eyes. “I mean it. I'll be checking up on you.”

“They got your cell number already?” Naoki asked. “We can text you updates. And…like…check back. With you.”

“You're a good kid, Naoki-kun.” Shōta ruffled his hair. “Don’t have one though. You'll have to live in suspense until I get back.”

He turned his gaze to the Hottas. “Never know when I might drop in, yeah?”

“We can stay good,” Jiro said confidently. “Gotta hold Naruhata together.”

Shōta's small smile was genuine. “Good team for it.”

“He's a cuddly lobster!” Ichiro called.

“What does that even mean?” Naoki demanded.

“He's got a hard shell, but he's soft underneath!” Jiro explained, bounding around the seating area to gather dirty dishes.

As the door closed, Shōta heard Naoki call back, “What? No! Nobody wants to hug a lobster!”

---

Shōta went to a dodgy corner ATM in East Naruhata to empty his bank account. Surveillance cameras would be sparse and lower quality, plus the location fit with his history. He still ducked down an alley and into a sewer as quickly as possible. He headed toward Sanya, looking through drainage grates from time to time to correct his course.

He climbed back to the surface after he was solidly back in Sanya. Even in its best days, Sanya was not the kind of place covered by surveillance cameras. Most residents actively distrusted their presence. The few installed by the city were routinely destroyed as soon as they were installed or repaired. Any privately owned devices were smashed by looters that were smart enough to realize there must have been something worth stealing inside those spaces.

He napped in Mita-san's back room until night fell, then quickly got back to moving.

Most places were abandoned, so it didn't take long for him to gather what he'd needed. The emptied “chaos coordinator” canvas bag fit the items he'd taken from the abandoned pharmacy. No one had thought to loot a resale store, which provided him a duffle bag and street clothes. He ended his “shopping trip” at Mita-san's store, which could provide the rest of the immediate needs.

He threw out the moldy toast and laid out what he'd need for tonight on the back room table. He lay the plastic drop cloth down in the adjoining bathroom. 

Shōta looked in the mirror and separated from himself. He moved mechanically after that. 

He carefully parted the top third of his hair and tied it neatly on the top of his head. He picked up the scissors and clipped the loose hair in sections. The trimmer did the remaining work, cropping it close to the skin. The ponytail was shifted back into a more natural position away from his face, and cut to just a few inches long.

He folded the drop cloth in half before moving to the next step. His remaining hair and eyebrows were bleached, then dyed turquoise, within an hour. He tied the hair back again and checked his work.

Now to cover any tracks. The drop cloth was carefully bundled and taken into the alley, where the trimmed hair was dumped directly into the sewer. The used dye & packaging, as well as the drop cloth and the clothes he'd worn, were tied up in 4 plastic shopping bags from the front of the store. Shōta dressed again and left to dispose of the bags in dumpsters and trash heaps scattered around the ward. 

---

Around 3am, he dropped the last plastic shopping bag into its own dumpster and leaned against the alley wall. The part of himself that he'd separated collided back into him. He was suddenly and overwhelmingly nauseated. 

Someone approached and started talking while Shōta was doubled over. He’d decided not to care until the man broke his nose. The red of blood dripping onto his hand contrasted with the turquoise hair dye that had seeped into his nail beds.

“I said to hand over the other bag, bro!” The man was easily twice Shōta's size and already holding the duffle bag.

Shōta spit out the blood that had drained into his mouth.

The man looked bigger somehow. “You ignoring me?!”

Shōta's manic grin doubtless looked more unsettling with the blood he was allowing to flow freely down his face.

“Are you nuts, man?” The man reached out his hand. “Just give it and you can get out of here.”

“Okay, fine.” Shōta wrapped the straps of the canvas bag tighter around his hand to better leverage the weight. “Time to coordinate some chaos.”

He swung the bag into the giant's chest with his full force, making the attacker crash into the opposite alley wall. Kicking off the man's solar plexus knocked the wind out of him and launched Shōta to a perch on top of the dumpster.

The man dropped the duffle bag and readied both fists. He charged, screaming, and Shōta hopped up to grab onto a lower bar from the fire escape overhead. He lifted his legs out of reach just as the giant lunged for them.

The giant growled from where he'd crashed into a pile of trash bags. This time Shōta watched as the giant's muscles gained mass in time with his frustration.

“That's an interesting quirk,” Shōta mused as the giant rounded back toward him. “Except muscles won't do much for you in a couple spots.”

Shōta swung back on his fire escape trapeze, gained forward momentum, and kicked the attacker directly in the throat.

The giant deflated to an average build and fell to the ground. His hands grabbed his throat. 

Shōta dropped back to the pavement unevenly as the fire escape partially released from the wall. Shōta looked up at the fire escape and muttered, “peak Sanya.” 

He picked up the duffle bag, leaving the man and the alley behind.

Chapter 7: Stay

Summary:

The radio crackled as Yoko tuned it and turned up the volume. “-7625. Get those calls rollin’! I shared with ya'll last week that you're not alone, that my love is missing just like lots of your friends and family are.”

Shōta took the shot.

“Folks called and shared who they were lookin’ for, in the hopes that the right person hears ya. I've seen a couple posts on socials sayin’ this worked! If that's you, call to share the hope with the rest of us, yeah? And if you're still trying to find someone, listeners, call in and tell us about ‘em. Let's kick it off-”

Notes:

Shota travels around a bunch. He now *knows* one more thing.

It was still a little early for a bar, but Shōta didn't want to be there for the first time when the place was in full swing. He knew many gray spaces well but not this particular one in Saitama City. He walked in as though he'd been a thousand times before anyway. Not necessarily apathetic, but routine. He put on that his scan cataloging the space was to find a friend.

A leggy woman with short golden hair and a shorter skirt sauntered close. “Lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?”

He grinned. He feigned interest by raking his eyes over her slowly, starting from the skirt's hem, lingering in some places as his eyes slowly slid back up to her face. “Maybe you, later…first, I gotta drop something off to Kimura-san.”

She popped her gum and jerked her chin toward a corner booth. “That's him. Maybe find me at the bar after you finish your business.”

Shōta hummed. She winked at him and walked away. He watched her for a moment before turning his head. He made eye contact with Kimura, who nodded for him to approach.

Kimura smirked as Shōta took a seat across the booth from him. “You like Yoko?”

“I'm only human, Kimura-san,” he shrugged. 

Kimura laughed. “No need to be so formal. Jem sent you, so you're a friend of a friend.”

Shōta leaned back in the booth. “A few degrees removed, but yes.” 

Kimura was quiet, and the two assessed each other. They were interrupted when Yoko walked past. She stopped just long enough to place 2 beers and 2 shots on the table. Shōta raised an eyebrow at Kimura.

“Nothing funny, just hospitality,” Kimura explained. “You can pick your own glasses.”

Shōta crossed his arms. “Take a sip out of all 4, then I pick.”

Kimura gave a short, wry laugh. “Cautious. Fair enough.”

Kimura took the same size sip out of all 4 glasses, so it seemed he was probably being truthful. Shōta chose one of each, held the beer glass up in a toast and sipped it.

Kimura smiled. “Now then, what can I get my new maybe-friend?”

Shōta pushed over a sheet of paper with his requests diagrammed out. “I'm doing some traveling. I'd like to pick these up in Maebashi.”

Not feeling any ill effects, Shōta drank about half of the beer while Kimura closely examined the sheet.

“The plain coloring should make this pretty easy to locate, at least,” Kimura said finally. “Still expensive, though.”

“Especially if you don't rely on the trash that Detnerat is flooding the market with,” Shōta agreed. 

Kimura looked up at him from the sheet. “You're surprisingly well-informed.”

“You have to be if you don't want to explode,” Shōta observed. “I can pay for the higher quality.”

Kimura watched with an amused look while Shōta tested the shot too. He dipped a finger into the liquid, paused after touching it to his lips, and then licked it.                                      

Kimura's eyes returned to the page briefly, before he leaned back and crossed his arms. “120k. 80k now, the other 40k at your Maebashi pickup.” 

“Add these support items,” Shōta countered, laying down another sheet of diagrams. “I'll give you 90 now and 50 in Maebashi. Pickup in 2 days.”

Again, Kimura examined the page. 

The radio crackled as Yoko tuned it and turned up the volume. “-7625. Get those calls rollin’! I shared with ya'll last week that you're not alone, that my love is missing just like lots of your friends and family are.”

Shōta took the shot. 

“Folks called and shared who they were lookin’ for, in the hopes that the right person hears ya. I've seen a couple posts on socials sayin’ this worked! If that's you, call to share the hope with the rest of us, yeah? And if you're still trying to find someone, listeners, call in and tell us about ‘em. Let's kick it off-”

Shōta fought fiercely to block out Hizashi's voice. He covered the intensity by picking apart the growing number of patrons.

When Kimura put the paper down, he reached out his hand, “I think we'll be friends all on our own, Okino Katashi. Reasonable, decisive partners are rare.”

Shōta shook Kimura's hand. “Friends.”

He handed over the agreed upon amount and a piece of paper with a date, time and address. 

Shōta checked his watch. “Gotta run, Kimura. Apologize to Yoko for me.”

Then he ducked out of the bar before the song could end. Just hearing his voice hurt. 

---

Shōta bought a few necessities, then boarded a mid-morning train. He arrived in Kamisato by 1 and was surprised by the cooler weather. He pulled a winter hat over his head as he walked and buried his hands in his pockets.

True to the rural town's nature, the cemetery was hidden away and quiet. He carefully navigated the pathways until he found the haka he sought. He crouched down to run his fingers over the fresh engraving. Simple, only her given name and the year. A third piece of evidence. Truth.

Shōta kneeled to light incense and arranged a few boughs of plum blossom before the stone. He poured a small glass of red wine, placing the glass and the bottle near its base. 

He moved back, still on his knees, and bowed his head to the grass. Shōta whispered apologies, pleas, and pain into the dirt until he was exhausted. 

Finally, feeling stiff and empty, he stood. He nearly ran into a man when he turned to leave. The blood drained from his face when he saw that it was Kayama Yasuo. How long had Yasuo been standing there?

Yasuo simply said, “It's too late to leave, so you'll stay with us. Kazumi will be pleased to see you.”

Yasuo walked towards the gates without looking to see if he was being followed, merely assumed that he was. 

They walked in silence as the shadows lengthened for nearly 15 minutes before turning down a long lane and approaching a small home. 

Yasuo pushed open the door and called. “I found a guest visiting with Nemuri.”

Kazumi walked out, drying her hands on a towel, her blue eyes sharp and clear like her daughter's. “Shōta…?” 

“Kazumi-san,” Shōta said hoarsely. He offered her a small smile and a bow of his head. 

“Oh, that won't do,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Yasuo, open a bottle of wine. I'm sure we all have plenty of new stories to share with each other.”

---

What I Know

The hallway, March 21

Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain

• Hotta Brothers & Tokyo Times, April 1
• Multiple news articles, April 2
• Visited haka and family home, April 3

---

Shōta's trip to Maebashi was completely more hungover than he had planned, but also more settled than he'd expected. 

He found an area where the apartments were in decent shape, but seemed to be abandoned. Perhaps the residents had moved into the newly announced shelters organized by hero schools. 

After sleeping through the afternoon, Shōta found an internet café. He worked his way through the firewalls at Central Hospital. He printed his record summary, as well as Midoriya's and Bakugo's. Midoriya's record listed the arrival time of the helicopter as 1:42 PM, and that he was in surgery beginning just before 2 PM. Bakugo's listed 1:42 PM, and the helicopter's call sign of 1836. He was in surgery by 2:15 PM. His own record didn't record his arrival, and he wasn't listed as a patient until 3:34 PM.

Grinding his teeth, he searched next for Kyoto flight records for a helicopter with the call sign 1836. This was harder, but Nezu's pup didn't give up easily. He found one that arrived in Nagano on February 8, from Maizuru Naval Base. Voting records listed a Hibino Yutaka being permanently stationed at the base. He printed that information too.

He wanted to know more about the investigation into his disappearance, but he knew that was too far for now. When he'd left Central Hospital, he'd said goodbyes and calmly walked out the front doors. He'd disappeared into familiar territory and withdrew money. Would they have ruled out foul play already? How careful did he need to be?

He shook his head and shoved the papers unceremoniously into his bag. He covered his work well but if his information gathering got flagged, he'd be too restricted. This whole thing would just take longer. He needed to pick up his gear and get the hell out of Maebashi. 

---

Shōta returned to Sanya the next day, but didn't go back to Mita-san's store. He found a tall apartment block that would give him a good vantage point and found a dry corner. He kept moving around the ward every few days to avoid getting too comfortable or predictable.

He needed to get used to the new gear in a familiar place before he could get back to his search. He did a few nighttime patrols of Sanya. As it became a habit, he'd go into Naruhata too.

24 days after Jaku, though, he found himself on a roof in Minato, overlooking the major road connecting the neighborhoods of Rappongi and Azabu. He didn't remember deciding to go, and he knew it was stupid. The chances were slim anyway. 

He needed to leave. 

Shōta's eyes remained focused on the sidewalk below. Now that the sun had risen, the number of pedestrians was increasing rapidly. He repelled down to a lower building to see them more clearly. 

His eyes caught on one pedestrian. Cursing himself, he watched them for a few seconds. He told himself again that he should leave.

Instead, Shōta dropped to the sidewalk. He removed his helmet and tugged the mask portion of the helmet liner under his chin. 

He looked across the street, dodging the early traffic, and jogged into the park. 

“Why are you following me?” 

Shōta couldn't even answer for himself.

Hizashi spun in place, his blonde hair whipping around his shoulders. He was ready to fight until recognition dawned.

Hizashi reached out and took a step closer. “Shōta?”

Shōta took a step back. “Hizashi.”

“Come home,” Hizashi said, his voice cracking. 

Shōta looked away so he didn't have to see Hizashi's reaction. “I can't.”

Hizashi took another step forward. “Are you safe?”

Shōta looked back at Hizashi. “Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain.”

“Yes.” Hizashi answered, his face crumpling.

“I'm sorry, I should have-,” Shōta began. He stomped a foot in irritation. “I should…I wish…”

Hizashi waited patiently, like always. Waiting for him to smooth out his feelings enough to find words.

“I wish that I…could have helped you carry it,” Shōta forced out. “We should have. Carried it together, I mean.”

The blonde nodded. His eyes were full of sorrow. “I know you would have done it, if you could.”

Hizashi took one last step forward, the two of them less than a foot apart. He examined Shōta slowly. Carefully. Noticing the gear Shōta wore.

He spoke so softly that Shōta almost couldn't hear him. “Is someone making you stay away? Making you do things?” 

Shōta's breathing convulsed at the feeling of Hizashi's hand in his. 

Hizashi's gaze was steady, and his voice was soothing. “I can get you away. I can keep you safe. Let me help you.”

“I can't,” Shōta said, shaking his head and trying to back away. “I shouldn't be here.”

Hizashi held Shōta in place by a handful of his shirt. 

The whole world felt like static. The colors too bright, the sounds too loud, the touches too strong.

When Hizashi kissed him, everything quieted. He dropped the helmet onto the grass to hold onto Hizashi like a life raft. The kiss held all the devastating urgency they both felt.

Hizashi rested his forehead against Shōta's.

“Stay,” Hizashi whispered. “Please, Shō. Stay.”

The static flickered back into the edges of his awareness. 

“I can't,” Shōta repeated. “Not now, Zashi.”

“Please.” Hizashi cradled Shōta's cheek in one hand, melting when Shōta leaned into the touch.

The static encroached closer, intense and unknowable.

Shōta kissed him again. “I'm sorry. Please don't follow me.” 

In a blink, he grabbed the dropped helmet and disappeared into the tree cover.

Notes:

To be super clear, I also hate me right now.

Chapter 8: Run

Summary:

He wrote down a figure. “This is for tomorrow. Cut 30% if you can wait 4 days.”

“Cut 20%, 3 days,” Shōta countered.

Kimura smiled. “Cut 15%. You can walk out of here with the communicators tonight and get the rest in 3 days.”

Shōta reached into his pocket and put down the required 75% exactly.

Kimura counted the money, then counted it again. “You knew where we'd settle,” he said a little bitterly, like it spoiled his game.

Notes:

Some quality time with his original Problem Child.

Tokyo Metro had over 37 million people, and he still couldn't keep himself away from one.

Unbelievable.

Shōta wanted to leave right away, but of course Naoki was starting to go out looking for problems to solve without the skills to be safe. 

Which is how he had ended up hovering a few feet over the oblivious boy's head, helmet on and voice modulated. 

“Kid.”

To the teen's credit, Naoki barely showed how startled he was. “Old man.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Shōta grumbled.

“And I told you to stop sneaking up on me,” Naoki complained. 

“And I told you that being so easy to sneak up on is dangerous.”

The thief awkwardly started backing away. 

Shōta watched, waiting to see if Naoki would notice. 

The teen growled, throwing out the scarf and pulling the thief back. 

“You're starting to live up to your stolen suit, Baby Eraser, ” Shōta mused. 

The woman cackled. “You're a thief too? Hypocrite.”

“I didn't steal it!” Naoki snapped at the thief. “I was entrusted with it.”

Shōta looked at the thief. “Entrusted. Which included using it. Obviously.”

“Sounds like stealing to me,” she said, sullen.

Naoki scoffed. “You’re making friends with the thief now, Old Man?” 

He turned back to Naoki. “Again, with the ‘Old Man’.”

Naoki zip-tied the thief to a bench on the sidewalk. “You've literally never given me anything else to call you. And do you actually plan on helping, or are you just here to troll me.”

“I prefer to think of it as allowing you to learn by doing,” Shōta bit back. He still flipped off of the fire escape to the alley floor, then walked the couple feet out onto the sidewalk. 

Shōta took out his burner phone and reported the information to a tip line. Naoki started to walk away, and Shōta followed him as he finished the call.

Naoki glowered at him. “Why do you keep following me?”

“I'd rather you didn't die,” Shōta said casually.

“Except you don't teach me anything. You just criticize me.”

Shōta smiled, not that Naoki could see it. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“You offering?” Naoki asked dubiously.

He bit back his first response. This was too important. “Yes.”

“Where do we start then, oji-sensei?”

“Ruse.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Ruse.”

---

Shōta spent the next 5 days with Naoki patrolling Edogawa. Neither of them were familiar with the area, so Shōta explained how he learned a new district. By the 6th night, he was exhausted by talking and exhausted by hearing his own voice.

As soon as Naoki joined him on the roof, Shōta said, “we're going to Saitama tomorrow. We'll stay a few days.”

“What? Why?” Naoki protested. 

“I want you to show me that you can analyze a completely foreign district on the fly,” Shōta replied. "And we're going to buy you your own get up.”

“There's nothing wrong with what I've been wearing,” Naoki spluttered.

“You did a great job making it work, kid, but you're basically wearing knee-length breeches,” Shōta said, pointing to Naoki's calves. 

Naoki crossed his arms. “So?”

“It's a safety issue, kid.” He answered. Then he added, “I'm buying.”

Naoki paused. “Am I actually going to see your face then, Ruse-sensei?”

“No.”

“Hear your real voice?”

“No.”

“Ugh, come on!”

“Before we meet my broker, you'll need your own code name. Think about it.”

“You want me to pick one in the next 24 hours.”

“Yep.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Naoki grumbled. 

“Uh-huh. Go home and figure out whatever you have to. There's a freight line running to Saitama tomorrow. Leaves the rail yard near Naruhata at 6 PM. We need to be on it so we can meet the broker at 10.”

---

“Yoko will be disappointed that you're hiding your face tonight, Okino,” Kimura smirked. 

For the thousandth time, Shōta was glad for the helmet hiding his face. He still had to act, but didn't need to manage his facial expressions. “I can always talk to Yoko after Amplitude leaves…”

Kimura turned his attention to Naoki. The teen wore jeans, an oversized hoodie to shadow his face, and a medical mask to cover the part of his face not cast in shadow by the hood. 

Naoki didn't move an inch. Good.

“He doesn't know your face. Or your voice, if you're leaving the changer on,” Kimura observed, a smile cracking. “Sorry if I gave away your name.”

“Don't sound so pleased with yourself,” Shōta retorted. “I can go elsewhere.”

“Aww,” Kimura said with a false pout. “I thought we were friends!”

Shōta waited.

Sighing, Kimura said, “fine, fine. You're no fun. To business then?”

Shōta passed over the list. 2 linked & encrypted earpiece communicators with voice modulation, 2 fully secured phones, a fully secured laptop, and the specs for Naoki's own suit.

Kimura read over the pages provided. “You two some kind of team now?”

Naoki snorted, and Kimura quirked an amused eyebrow.

Shōta leaned on his elbows on the table. “Something like that, for now at least.”

Looking between the two of them, Kimura asked, “where and when did you want this stuff?”

“Saitama is fine this time. What's the best you can do?”

Kimura tapped the page thoughtfully. “Can you pay for the best I can do?”

“Try me.”

He wrote down a figure. “This is for tomorrow. Cut 30% if you can wait 4 days.”

“Cut 20%, 3 days,” Shōta countered.

Kimura smiled. “Cut 15%. You can walk out of here with the communicators tonight and get the rest in 3 days.”

Shōta reached into his pocket and put down the required 75% exactly. 

Kimura counted the money, then counted it again. “You knew where we'd settle,” he said a little bitterly, like it spoiled his game.

Shōta reached up to adjust the voice modulator to a low volume and leaned forward. “We're friends, Isa Hataki. It's important to me that I know my friends.”

“Touché, Okino,” Kimura nodded, smoothing over his shock. “I'll get those communicators then.”

---

2 nights with the communicators meant 2 nights of in-the-moment feedback. Micro-corrections. Naoki looked exhausted with the whole thing

The third night was worth it. They picked up Naoki's new suit and it all came together. 

They'd kept the basic design the same so he wouldn't have too much of a learning curve. The black jumpsuit, but with full length pant legs. The utility belt. The capture scarf. The goggles, except Naoki's were orange and reflective from the outside, yet clear and unobstructed from the inside. They'd chosen the design for better field of vision. 

The high was short-lived. The pair had just called in a tip for an attempted sexual assault and needed a break. Naoki wandered the conbini aisles looking for some kind of chips, but wasn't really looking at the bags at all. Shōta stopped in front of a TV tuned to a 24-hour news station. It showed UA, or rather what UA had become. 

“Can you turn it up?” he asked.

The clerk looked wary, but Shōta couldn't really blame them. It was harder than ever to tell hero, vigilante, and villain apart. The clerk raised the remote and increased the volume a few notches.

“I can confirm 2 things at this time,” Nezu said into the camera, looking wrung out. “First, the security issue we encountered was fully resolved.”

Small. 

Rumpled.

Exhausted.

Like the hospital.

The uproar of the reporters temporarily drowned out his voice.

Nezu spoke loudly, indirectly commanding that remaining conversations cease. “Second, a young girl was taken in a highly-targeted kidnapping from UA. Again, there is no evidence of risk for other residents of the shelter at UA. We are doing everything we can to secure her safe return.”

A newscaster came onto the screen. 

“UA and the Shizuoka police are asking that residents across the nation do not engage, but report any further information or sightings of this child immediately.”

A grinning Eri looked out from the screen. 

He didn't know if it would last. But all the loose pieces of himself, the puzzle that he was assembling, abruptly locked into their places.

The fury ripped through his veins like wildfire.

He resolutely walked to the chip aisle, grabbed Naoki by the collar, and pulled him outside. 

“Ow! Ruse, what the hell!” Naoki yelled, struggling.

“We're hotwiring a car.”

Naoki's voice jumped an octave. “We're what?!”

Chapter 9: Homecoming

Summary:

Hizashi broke the silence first. “The kids haven't shut up about you.”

Shōta clicked off the voice modulation and opened the helmet just enough for his real voice to be audible. “About me, or Ruse?”

“Ruse,” Hizashi said, turning his head to look at Shōta but he could only see the helmet. “Sero asked why Amplitude is in Tokyo without you.”

“Amplitude has his own obligations.” Him missing the kid was clearer in his voice than he wanted it to be. Hizashi always had that effect of bringing Shōta's feelings closer to the surface.

“Too bad,” Hizashi sighed. “If you couldn't be with us, I was glad that you weren't alone.”

Shōta ran back to the rail yard, his mind going as fast as his legs. Naoki was close behind. 

When they finally stopped, Shōta dug into their hiding place and threw Naoki's bag into his chest.

“You gonna tell me why you went from Mr. Calm and Collected to whatever this is?” Naoki asked, letting the bag fall back to the ground. 

“I need to go to Shizuoka,” Shōta said, double-checking that everything was still where it belonged in his own bag.

“Shizuoka is a disaster. It's the center of…all of the…” Naoki gestured in the air. “You know.”

“Something happened and I have to go back now. That's my city and my people,” Shōta answered, throwing his duffle bag onto his back. “I know Tokyo is your city and your people.” 

Naoki put his goggles on top of his head, furrowing his brow. 

“You can get on the 6 AM freight to Tokyo. You keep the suit and the phone that we came here for. We stay in touch, help each other where we can, ” Shōta said. “Or you can drive to the middle of it all with me right now.”

Naoki hesitated, then held out the earpiece he'd been wearing. “I don't think I'm ready for Shizuoka.”

Shōta took the earpiece and nodded. “You'll do good in Tokyo. Let me know when you get there.”

Naoki laughed. “Okay, dad.”

“I'd still rather you didn't die,” Shōta joked. “You've been a good student.”

Naoki bowed. “Thank you, Ruse-sensei.”

Shōta ruffled his hair. 

Naoki straightened. “I'd rather you didn't die either. Don't let Shizuoka get you, okay?”

---

The entire 2 hour and 15 minute 90 minute drive to Musutafu, Shōta struggled with where to go when he got there. 

Fear of the static decided for him. He couldn't go to UA yet. 

Shōta set up, as usual, in a poor and undersurveilled neighborhood. Then he started changing his appearance again. He wanted to be able to move around without his full suit, but also without being connected with his civilian movement in Tokyo, Saitama, or Maebashi. At least this time, the change felt much less traumatic. 

The sides of his hair had grown in some, so he just trimmed it to be a tousled mop on top that could fall into his eyes if needed. The new color was a pale pink. 

The first day, he also picked through the security of the Shizuoka Police and transferred the department's entire electronic file on Eri's kidnapping to his secure laptop. Seeing that Naomasa was considered too close to the case to be lead detective, he pulled everything he could from, or about, the person who was taking lead. 

That night, he scavenged for new civilian clothes while refamiliarizing himself with the changed streets.

By the end of the second night, he had read the entire file. The biggest red flag was the departure of Midoriya Izuku.

His Problem Child had left the school the night that Eri disappeared, after leaving Yagi Toshinori a note. Midoriya wrote that he didn't want to make the school a target anymore. 

A few days and nights of looking for Midoriya hadn't worked yet, but he was tracking reported sightings. He needed and wanted to find this kid. 

---

It was only a matter of time, he supposed. Uraraka, Shoji, and Sero were helping a family get to the UA shelter. 

Shoji was in front of the group as lookout and luggage carrier. Uraraka followed with 4 kids, and a couple was behind them. Sero was supporting the grandfather at the end.

“The walls are sooooooo big,” Uraraka said, waving her arms as wide as her grin. “They keep all the bad guys out. And there are other kids. You'll get to play outside again!”

The kids were laughing and watching Uraraka. He could feel the energy radiating off of them from the third story balcony. 

Shōta flushed with pride and moved to follow them.

Moving down to a second floor store canopy, he could hear Shoji's soft voice. “You'll be treated well.”

The mother had caught up to him and was looking around anxiously. “You're s-s-s-sure?”

Looking closer, he could see the scales dotting her face. Some kind of snake quirk?

Shoji bobbed his head. 

Meanwhile, Sero stopped to let the grandfather rest. 

Shōta's head jerked to the side, catching movement. Just a brief lapse in their tight formation, and a person had edged out of an alley. He looked back to Sero, whose full attention was on the older man that was holding his own chest. 

He lowered himself to street level just as the other person broke into a sprint toward them. 

Shoji dropped the bags he was holding and lunged at Shōta. Sero cried out to Uraraka to shield the group while he prepared to fight the person running at him. 

A spray of knives were flying directly at Uraraka who was spread too thin as she managed 6 panicking civilians. 

Shōta wrested an arm free from Shoji's hold, reaching toward Uraraka. He heard his own distorted voice screaming “NO!”

The knives stopped in mid-air. Everything froze before it all started moving too quickly again. Sero restrained the other person with his tape and Shoji restrained Shōta in a tight bear hug.

Once she was sure that the threat was over and she'd called for backup, Uraraka checked on the family behind her. 

Shōta didn't fight Shoji, still processing what happened with the knives. Uraraka could use her quirk to add gravity now? That wasn't right. The knives had hovered, not fallen. Did she make a forcefield by manipulating the gravitational waves around her?

Sero walked over after thoroughly taping their attacker to a wall. “You're that quirkless vigilante from Tokyo, right? Reece? No…Rise?”

Shōta looked at Sero. The boy had liked gossiping about celebrity news with Ashido and hero news with Midoriya…did people in Tokyo actually notice Shōta? It had only been a few weeks.

Sero snapped his fingers and pointed at Shōta. “Ruse! You were trying to help us, right, Ruse?”

Shōta nodded slowly. He bolted as soon as Shoji let his arms fall.

---

His secure phone pinged. He'd set up alerts for certain news articles and police reports. There was a new report including Midoriya. He completely lost track of time while repeatedly reading the report and watching the online videos. All of the videos showed only one fighter. Midoriya was doing things he'd never been able to do before. That was confusing, but some of the comments were absolutely chilling. People were asking if Midoriya was a nomu.

---

Hizashi stood on the beach, staring out at the water. He must be patrolling soon based on his clothes and that ridiculous cockatoo hair. 

Shōta walked up beside him, having just finished another fruitless night looking for anything at all on Midoriya or Eri.

They stood there together, both shielded by the personas they wore.

Hizashi broke the silence first. “The kids haven't shut up about you.”

Shōta clicked off the voice modulation and opened the helmet just enough for his real voice to be audible. “About me, or Ruse?”

“Ruse,” Hizashi said, turning his head to look at Shōta but he could only see the helmet. “Sero asked why Amplitude is in Tokyo without you.”

“Amplitude has his own obligations.” Him missing the kid was clearer in his voice than he wanted it to be. Hizashi always had that effect of bringing Shōta's feelings closer to the surface.

“Too bad,” Hizashi sighed. “If you couldn't be with us, I was glad that you weren't alone.”

They were quiet while Shōta sorted his thoughts. He turned his head slightly towards Hizashi, not daring to really look at the man. “Did you tell the kids it was me?”

“I didn't tell anyone,” Hizashi answered. “If they knew you were in Musutafu but not with them, I don't think they'd understand. It would break them.”

Shōta nodded.

Hizashi looked back to the water, hurt in his voice. “And I didn't tell anyone about seeing you in Tokyo, so less reason to suspect.”

Just the mention of it made Shōta's stomach plummet. His voice was thin. “Thank you.”

Hizashi turned his body to face Shōta fully. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest. “I didn't do it to be nice. I did it so you wouldn't disappear forever.”

Arms slack and head hung low, Shōta turned to fully face the coming wave of Hizashi's emotions.

“I know you. You hide when you hurt. I was ready to help. I was ready to be there as much or as little as you needed. But I didn't think that you'd decide to go so far.” Hizashi's arms weren't crossed anymore but were flying around wildly.

Shōta couldn't wrap his arms tightly enough around himself. But he stood still and endured it anyway.

“Do you remember the promise the three of us made the night before the raid?” Hizashi was whispering now, his posture rigid.

“The promise we always make before missions.” Shōta whispered back.

“3 classes, Shōta. My general studies kids with no idea how to help. Nemuri's kids. Some shattered, some with the desperate need to work to fix it somehow, some out for vengeance. And yours, with their sensei and four classmates hospitalized. I had to carry 60 traumatized kids!”

Hizashi shoved Shōta in the chest, hard, with both hands. Shōta stumbled back and Hizashi did it again. And again.

“You were supposed to come home, and we could hurt together. I had to hold on just a little longer. JUST A FEW MORE DAYS, BUT YOU LEFT ME.”

Shōta tore off the helmet and dropped it to the sand. He stumbled back a few steps with his hands pressed over his ears. The helmet liner was quickly soaking through. Controlling his breathing didn't help with the waves of nausea or dizziness. He fell to his elbows and knees.

Hizashi's hands were on Shōta within seconds, sitting him up. Shōta barely managed not to vomit on the other man. Hizashi looked horrified and was talking rapidly, based on his mouth. Shōta tried to get his watery eyes to focus better.

Shōta winced when he shook his head. It wasn't the first time he'd nearly or actually had Hizashi damage his eardrums. He should have known better than to move his head like that, especially so early.

Hizashi sat back on his heels. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he opened his and signed. “How much can you hear?”

Shōta released the pressure against his ears and waited a few seconds, then lowered them to sign back. “Nothing. Even no ringing.”

The fear of deafening another person was clear in Hizashi's panic. “We have to take you to the hospital. Right now.”

Terror of his own drove Shōta to shake his head vigorously. He only stayed upright because Hizashi had grabbed his shoulders. 

Hizashi let go again after a few seconds. His signing got quicker, more pprecise. Angry, sad, or both. “I know you won't go to UA to see Chiyo, so what else are we supposed to do?”

Shōta's mind was strained by the injury and emotion, and he wasn't nearly as fluent as Hizashi. It made it frustrating to search his mind for the signs he needed. He decided to just finger spell.

“I can't lose r-e-a-l again. Hospital will take it.”

“Real?” Hizashi signed back, looking baffled.

“Yes! Real.” Shōta signed emphatically. “Need real to find Eri. Need real to find Midoriya. Need real to stay with you.”

Hizashi stood and began to pace. “Would you go to UA to stay away from the hospital?”

Shōta chewed his lower lip, thinking. Could he hold off the static? Finally, he signed, “afraid.”

Hizashi stopped in front of Shōta. “What if Chiyo met us at my off-campus apartment? Would you stay long enough to sleep off Chiyo's healing?”

Shōta's head felt like it was in a vice, and the ringing came in and out. “You won't tell her?”

Intense sadness came over Hizashi's features before he shook his head. “I won't."

Shōta clenched his jaw, making his ears twinge. Hesitantly, he signed, “okay.”

Notes:

In the past, I've said that Hizashi was eventually gonna DJ Punch Shōta. This felt more right? Hizashi has great quirk control, but he's also at his limit.

Chapter 10: How Long Can I Linger?

Summary:

Ruse: You have a fan in Shizuoka.

Amp: Rly?

Ruse: UA student. One of Eraser's.

Amp: r u fucking w me rn

Ruse: No. You good?

Amp: Yeah. You?

Ruse: Gonna disappear for a while. Wanted to let you know since we're known online or whatever. Can only text.

Amp: old man.

Amp: y only txt?

Ruse: Eardrums burst. Long story.

Ruse: See ya.

Amp: wait wtf Ruse?!

Shōta stirred where he'd been tucked into Hizashi's couch. The clock showed it had been a few hours since Chiyo's healing. His mind was still fuzzy with sleep until he saw the other man.

Hizashi was sitting on the floor across the room. His back was mostly toward Shōta while he thumbed through a crate of old records. Something must already be playing, because his head was bouncing along in a distinct rhythm. He'd changed into civilian clothes and put his hair into a loose bun, which bounced along too.

It was such a distinctly Hizashi moment that Shōta didn't move at first. He couldn't imagine interrupting it. He tried to memorize every detail.

Hizashi yelped in surprise when he eventually turned his head to check on Shōta. He adjusted the wide-rimmed red glasses on his face and glared. “How long have you been awake?”

Shōta shrugged and reached up to rub his eyes. 

“Want a shower? Chiyo left earplugs for you to keep the ear canals dry.” Hizashi jumped up and grabbed them from the table to show him.

Getting in the shower right after getting up was not what Shōta wanted to do, but he had crashed with the bloodied helmet liner still on. He took the ear plugs and trudged off towards the bathroom. Hizashi had already set out a towel and a change of clothes.

It had been a while since he'd had a long hot shower. It barely took any time to get clean, especially with his hair so short. He was just lingering after a while.

The loose sweats and old t-shirt smelled like Hizashi. Despite the man's love for fashion, everything he had for around the house was well-worn and comfortable. He wrapped his head in the towel and wandered back into the living room.

Hizashi looked up at him from the spot he'd retaken on the floor. After a second to process, he stopped what he was doing entirely and took another, longer look.

Shōta signed, “what?”

Hizashi stood up with a grin and pointed at his own eyebrows. 

The helmet liner had kept his eyebrows completely covered. They were pink. And now Hizashi could see them. 

Shōta smiled mischievously and walked over to him. Hizashi raised an eyebrow in reply. At the towel’s removal from Shōta's head, Hizashi descended into hysterical cackling.  

Once he'd calmed somewhat, the blonde held Shōta's face in both hands, turning his head side to side. “The cut and the pink thing…actually kinda works.”

Hizashi's smile was genuine. Shōta gave a barely there, but deeply relaxed, smile in return. 

Hizashi shifted. “Still nothing?”

“No, but no feeling sick or d-i-z-z-y now,” Shōta answered.

Hizashi looked away, clenching his jaw.

If only he knew more sign language. Instead Shōta bapped Hizashi on the nose.

Hizashi looked at him, wide-eyed. 

Shōta held up one hand at his side like a paw, and the other up by his head like it was an ear. He had no idea how loud he was being, but risked actually making the sound for the reaction it could earn. “Meow.”

Hizashi was laughing so hard the tears were rolling down his cheeks. 

---

The pen glided smoothly across the notebook page. Shōta had reread the information so many times that he almost didn't need to write it down. Except he very much did need to.

What I Know

The hallway, March 21

Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain

• Hotta Brothers & Tokyo Times, April 1
• Multiple news articles, April 2
• Visited haka and family home, April 3

Eri is my daughter

• Hospital, March 24
• Located adoption record, April 22
• Kidnapping & case files, April 26

He'd been staring at the page when Hizashi sat beside him. He quickly flipped the notebook closed and looked to see Hizashi's reaction. There wasn't much of one, so he probably hadn't seen. 

“We should make p-a-n-c-a-k-e-s for breakfast,” Shōta suggested.

Hizashi smiled, a sad tinge to it. “For Oboro's birthday?”

Shōta nodded. 

It occurred to him that Oboro wasn't actually dead. Or he was, but he was also alive. Sort of. What did it mean to grieve a person so destroyed that you couldn't even say whether or not they were alive?

Shōta seized Hizashi's hand and held it tightly as the static threatened. It stayed only in the corners as they stood and walked to the kitchen. Hizashi gave his hand an understanding squeeze.

---

Ruse: You have a fan in Shizuoka.

Amp: Rly?

Ruse: UA student. One of Eraser's.

Amp: r u fucking w me rn

Ruse: No. You good?

Amp: Yeah. You?

Ruse: Gonna disappear for a while. Wanted to let you know since we're known online or whatever. Can only text.

Amp: old man.

Amp: y only txt?

Ruse: Eardrums burst. Long story. 

Ruse: See ya.

Amp: wait wtf Ruse?!

 

Ruse: Need a new helmet visor. Cracked.

Kimura: That should be impossible.

Ruse: “Should” doesn't change that I need a replacement.

Kimura: Sure. I'll ask about materials that can survive a nuclear blast. 

Ruse: Very funny.

Kimura: Saw you've been in Shizuoka now. You want it there?

Ruse: You have contacts in Shizuoka?

Kimura: It's my job to have contacts everywhere, Kata.

Kimura: Can I call you Kata?

Ruse: I don't care.

Ruse: Can they install or do I need to figure that out?

Kimura: They'll install. That’s just good customer service. 

Ruse: Send me cost and meet up info.

Kimura: I'll get back to you in 20.

---

Shōta had woken up around 2 AM because his ears had started crackling. He'd read through Eri's case file entirely again and didn't feel any closer to finding her. There was nothing new on Midoriya either. 

Normally patrolling would give a vent to the irritation and helplessness that Shōta was feeling. Standing on the apartment balcony as the city awakened helped but not enough. He hit his forehead with the heels of both hands.

Hizashi startled him. He gently pulled Shōta's hands away from his face. From force of habit, the embarrassed man hunched his shoulders and ducked his face. Without the scarf to hide in, Shōta moved to hide his face against Hizashi's shoulder instead. 

Words weren't possible, and that was strangely soothing. 

Hizashi scratched the back of Shōta's neck where the hair was cut short. He paused at Shōta's shiver, but resumed with a small laugh when Shōta nuzzled against his shoulder. 

The feeling of being this close to Hizashi was intoxicating. 

Shōta pressed a tentative kiss against Hizashi's collarbone. Pleasure shot through Shota when he felt the hand on the back of his head curl just a bit tighter. Another kiss, this one more confident. Hizashi leaned his head away, exposing more of his neck. 

There was no resistance when Shōta pinned Hizashi against the railing and nibbled on Hizashi's earlobe. The rumble of a moan was unmistakable. Hizashi's fingers ghosted across the skin of Shōta's lower back. 

When Shōta moved to kiss Hizashi's lips, he didn't expect to be pushed back. At least it gave him a chance to appreciate Hizashi's flushed cheeks. 

Hizashi lowered his hand just slightly. “RG is on her way. 10 minutes.”

Shōta sighed heavily and nodded. He headed off in search of the helmet liner to hide his face.

---

Helmet in hand, Shōta walked into the warehouse. He glanced back at the heavily disguised Hizashi at his heels. He wanted to be annoyed that the other man insisted on coming along but knew that was foolish. His hearing was still fuzzy after Chiyo's second healing session.

Kimura descended the stairs along with a woman. She held a small box.

“Kimura? I thought you were having an associate manage the hand off,” Shōta said. His guard was immediately high.

Kimura smiled. “I thought I'd introduce the two of you, Kata. She calls herself Ultraviolet.”

Shōta's gaze slid over to the woman. She was tall and lithe with glowing purple eyes. He gave her a nod. 

Ultraviolet replied with a predatory smile, staring Shōta down. 

“And you're a delightful new addition.” Kimura spoke to Hizashi, seemingly oblivious to the power struggle happening next to him. 

Hizashi, however, had very much registered the fight for dominance between Shōta and Ultraviolet. “Delightful maybe, until I need to be otherwise.”

Kimura laughed. “You're much more spirited than Amplitude. And more Kata's age. What are you, then? Associate? Friend? Lover?”

“He's none of your business, Kimura,” Shota said coolly, holding out his helmet to Ultraviolet. 

Ultraviolet took it a little rougher than necessary and got to work.

“You're a good friend, and I like making new friends,” Kimura whined. “You don't share well.”

Shōta shrugged. “I'm territorial. It's best not to mess with what's mine.”

“Your current territory is a little wild,” Kimura observed, leaning against the wall. “What's up with that freaky green lightning kid?”

“No idea, can't figure it out,” Shōta answered honestly. 

Kimura tilted his head. “Does that mean you've been trying to figure it out?”

Shōta deflected, “what person in the city isn't?”

“True,” Kimura assented. “Did you see he took out Muscular yesterday?”

Hizashi suddenly came to life behind him. “What?!”

Shōta held a hand out at Hizashi. 

Kimura smirked. “He's fun. It's much easier to tell what he's thinking.”

Ultraviolet had let out a dark giggle. Shōta was back to glaring at her. 

Kimura held out a hand for the cash. Hisashi handed it to him as Shōta grabbed the repaired helmet. He inspected it carefully while Hizashi kept watching the other two. 

Shōta nodded. “You two leave first.”

“So cautious, Kata,” Kimura teased. 

Shōta turned to Kimura. “I don't trust that one yet.” He pointed to Ultraviolet.

She finally spoke for the first time. Her voice reverberated, but Shōta couldn't tell if it was a quality of her voice or a reflection on his still damaged hearing. “That's wise.”

---

The confusion on Hizashi's face was clear when they landed in a park instead of going back towards his apartment. 

“What's goi-”

“Fucking hell,” Shōta growled. 

“Oookay…”

He put down the helmet and stomped away a dozen yards. Hizashi followed, keeping an eye on the helmet itself. “Anyone from UA patrolling right now that's good with support or technology?”

Hizashi took out his phone to make a call. “Is it a bomb or something?”

Shōta looked blankly at Hizashi. “If it was, they would have blown us up already.”

Lifting the phone to his ear, Hizashi remarked, “I thought you said that broker was trustworthy.”

“He is, but she–”

“Ecto, heyo!!!”

Just the slight increase in volume had Shōta covering his ears. They stayed well covered until the phone was back down.

Hizashi moved close to talk softly. “2 minutes out. You'll have to stay silent when they get here without the voice changer, yeah?” 

“They'd know me?”

Hizashi's grin was lopsided. “From the nightmares you gave ‘em sometimes.”

“I don't give students nightmares, Hizashi,” Shōta groaned. 

“How many people have you expelled again?” 

“They aren't students anymore. They don't count.”

“They so do! And you wonder why some people call you a sadist…”

Shōta crossed his arms. 

“Now shush,” Hizashi said. “They'll come up any second.”

Shōta could hear Kaminari and Ashido's approach well before they were visible. Hizashi walked over to meet them while Shōta turned his back to get his eyes to stop watering first. 

Majima had been patrolling with Ashido and Kaminari, which was a relief because otherwise he would have worried about them being paired up. Majima was the one inspecting the helmet. 

Ashido squealed when she noticed Shōta's approach. “Kami! You were right! Mic-sensei does know Ruse-san!”

“I told you so! I recognized the helmet,” Kaminari boasted.

Shōta's eyes crinkled with a tiny smile he'd definitely deny later. 

“Can we ask you a question, Ruse-san?” Mina asked, bouncing on her toes. “Or a couple maybe?”

This felt different than when he'd seen Uraraka, Shoji, and Sero. Then he mostly watched them. They really hadn't spoken.

Kaminari jumped in. “Your partner or whatever, the one in Tokyo?”

If he could speak, Shōta would point out that there wasn't really a question there, but he just nodded.

Kaminari added, “Do you know where he got his suit?”

That was a complicated answer for non-verbals, especially since his helmet liner even covered his eyebrows. He tilted his head.

Ashido jumped in. “Okay, so we think Amplitude got it from someone we know! Or knew, maybe?”

“Bro, you did not just say ‘knew’!” Kaminari looked appalled.

Ashido sniffled. “Right, sorry. We know them. The person…they went missing a while ago. And maaaaaybe Amplitude knows something?” 

Kaminari nodded his head. “We’re not saying Amplitude did anything, we just don't have many clues to follow. It really sucks…”

Ashido gave Kaminari an encouraging smile. “Hey, remember we all decided that's actually a good sign?”

Kaminari brightened again. “Yeah! Cuz who's sneakier than our sen-

Ashido smacked Kaminari in the chest. “So can you ask Amplitude about it? Please?”

Hizashi walked over and handed Shōta the helmet while he was still trying to process. Shōta put the helmet on and flipped on the modulator.

They were still watching him, their eyes so wide and hopeful. How could they have seen everything they had, lost everything they'd lost, and still look like that?

“Assuming everything you kids say is true,” Shōta said carefully, “then I can see why you're asking.”

“So you'll talk to Amplitude for us?” Ashido asked excitedly.

Shōta nodded. “I'll ask him to contact you.”

Kaminari cheered and pumped his fist in the air. 

Ashido screamed. She crashed into him with a hug. “Thank you, Ruse-san! You can't imagine how much this means to us!”

Shōta felt like he was floating in the static that had been building since the previous morning. Hugging Ashido back with one arm anchored him through its latest attempt to drive him away. 

Chapter 11: Two New Knowings

Summary:

Mineta added, “yeah, you've been looking out for us, like some kind of creepy but protective uncle! Or a stalker, but a good one.”

“Dude, what the hell,” Kirishima laughed from behind them, holding the thief firmly with one hand. He handed the bolas back to Shōta.

“Just callin’ ‘em like I see ‘em,” Mineta grinned.

Yaoyorozu huffed. “This is highly inappropriate.”

“I'll show you–”

Sato snickered when Shōta took Mineta down with the bolas. 

Notes:

Bolas are two or more weights connected by a cord, meant to wrap around the legs to trip people or animals.

Ruse: ashido.vcf

Ruse: They have questions about your original suit.

Amp: no thx

Ruse: They noticed you were “entrusted” with it. I said I'd ask you. 

Amp: they Eraser's?

Ruse: Yes.

Amp: ugh, fr?

Amp: r u friends w all of UA now?

Ruse: If I said yes, would you be jealous?

Amp: obv

Ruse: I try to avoid them but it keeps happening. 

Amp: do i have 2 call?

Ruse: No.

Amp: liar

---

Shōta flung the bolas after one thief. When the person hit the ground, Shōta turned to chase the other. He laughed to himself when they turned down a dead-end.

Shōta stopped laughing when the thief turned to face him, picked up a 2-ton chunk of concrete rubble and threw it. All he could do was brace for impact. 

When nothing hit, Shōta looked up. The concrete was just hanging there. He slowly lowered the hand that he'd instinctually raised to protect his head. The concrete lowered along with it. He froze.

“You okay, Ruse-san?” Sato plucked the concrete out of the air effortlessly and threw it aside. 

Kirishima pulled Shōta to his feet. “How'd you do that? Aren't you quirkless?”

Yaoyorozu looked horrified. “Kirishima, you can't just ask people that!”

Kirishima smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, ignore me. I'll just…go grab the other one real quick.”

When Kirishima ran out of view, Shōta looked to the other assailant. They were already quirk-cuffed by Sato and Mineta. “Thank you.”

Yaoyorozu smiled warmly. “No, Ruse-san, thank you.”

Shōta was puzzled. It was an uncomfortable trend. “For what?”

“Giving us a chance to repay you,” she replied as though it were obvious. “You've helped several of our classmates before.”

Mineta added, “yeah, you've been looking out for us, like some kind of creepy but protective uncle! Or a stalker, but a good one.”

“Dude, what the hell,” Kirishima laughed from behind them, holding the thief firmly with one hand. He handed the bolas back to Shōta.

“Just callin’ ‘em like I see ‘em,” Mineta grinned.

Yaoyorozu huffed. “This is highly inappropriate.”

“I'll show you–”

Sato snickered when Shōta took Mineta down with the bolas. 

---

Hizashi tried to get out of bed. He was stopped by Shōta's arms tightening around him, and Shōta's face nuzzling in between his shoulders.

“We have to get out of bed eventually,” Hizashi teased.

“Too comfy. You stay.” Shōta wrapped a leg around Hizashi's for emphasis.

“I have a patrol today.” Hizashi relaxed despite the protest. “5 more minutes, kitten.”

“Hmph.”

“10. No more.”

Shōta nodded into Hizashi's back. 

---

Shōta looked skeptically at the playground swings in front of him. He took a few steps further back so he was standing about 20 feet from where they hung at rest.

He felt preposterous, but he needed to know. Shōta waved a hand forward as though to push one of the swings.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, and still nothing. 

He frowned. Did he imagine it? And if he did, what else was he imagining?

“Pick up the pace, fuckers!” A very recognizable series of pops in the distance.

He turned quickly to locate Bakugo, then turned back at the clanging sound. The swing was wrapping itself around the pole, only stilling again when it ran out of chain.

He gave a tentative flick of a finger and it unwound. 

Well then.

Shōta took the paper from an interior pocket of his jacket and added an entry.

What I Know

The hallway, March 21

Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain

• Hotta Brothers & Tokyo Times, April 1
• Multiple news articles, April 2
• Visited haka and family home, April 3

Eri is my daughter

• Hospital, March 24
• Located adoption record, April 22
• Kidnapping & case files, April 26

Secondary quirk strengthened

• Froze knives, May 3
• Stopped rubble, May 6
• Playground swings, May 7

---

Shōta was not waiting on the causeway for long. He stepped out into clear view. The braking car skidded sideways. It didn't stop quickly enough. Shōta jumped onto the hood and flipped onto the other side of the sliding vehicle. 

When it came to a stop backwards against the median, Shōta ripped open the door and yanked out the still disoriented driver. The skeletal man fell to the pavement awkwardly. 

“All right, guilty conscience. Start talking.”

The man sat on the ground, leaning back on his arms and looking for a way to defend himself. 

“I said talk. Now.”

“I don't know what you mean!”

Shōta crouched in front of him. “Midoriya Izuku was any other quirkless kid, and then he met you. You start at UA when he does. He develops multiple quirks before leaving the school. And now you're the only person not in a patrol team to leave UA regularly. For a former #1, you are surprisingly un-subtle.”

Yagi Toshinori tried to hold his gaze, but couldn't decide where to look because of the helmet. Shōta laughed at him. A full belly laugh that sounded incredibly deranged due to the modulator. 

“Are you…threatening me?” Yagi asked.

“No.” Shōta stood and held out a hand to help the man to his feet. “I could. But I think you'd rather get some things off your chest. You've been carrying an awful lot on your own.”

Yagi frowned. “Let's say you're right. You're not the person I'd go to.”

“I figured out his pattern. It won't be long until someone else does too,” Shōta reasoned. “And when that happens, while the kid is still out here alone, some group will band together to find him. And his blood will be on your hands.”

“Then tell me the pattern!”

Shōta sat on the hood of the car with his arms crossed. “No.”

“Why?”

Shōta huffed. “I don't trust your judgment.”

“I was the number one hero. You are a vigilante. And you think you have better judgment?” Yagi countered.

“You're convinced he's in mortal danger, you have dozens of powerful allies that you could ask for help, and yet you've stayed silent,” Shōta spat. 

Yagi blanched. 

“Nobody has pressed you or even looked at you closely, because you're The Symbol and would never make a mistake, or lie, or get yourself into a bad situation. But I looked. And I'm pressing you now. That kid deserves better. So. Start. Talking.”

---

Amp: u r back & attacked All Might

Ruse: I didn't attack him. 

Ruse: We talked. 

Amp: u made him crash 1st

Ruse: He was driving too fast for conditions.

Amp: like u jumping out @ him

Ruse: Anyone could have.

Ruse: Did you call Ashido yet?

Amp: y?

Ruse: So no, then. 

Amp: u said I cld not

Ruse: It sounded like you were going to. 

Amp: fine

Amp: mean old man

Ruse: :)

Amp: how do u make emoji scary

Ruse: It's a gift.

---

Hizashi laughed when Shōta got wrapped up in the blanket and fell off the couch. The glare he got for it only made him laugh harder. 

“You're an asshole,” Shōta grumbled, untangling his legs and getting to his feet. “You know what it's like after Chiyo heals you…”

“So?”

He was preparing to say something snippy back until he noticed the anxiety in Hizashi's voice. Hizashi wasn't trying to push him, he was afraid. 

“I can hear fine now, loudmouth,” Shōta answered, tossing the blanket onto the couch. 

Hizashi grinned, then sighed dramatically. “You must be sooooo relieved that you can delight in my full vocal range again.”

Shōta paused. “You're probably going back now, right? To UA.”

The grin and the dramatics disappeared. “I don't know.”

“Don't they need you?” Shōta asked softly.

Hizashi hugged himself. “They need you too.”

Shōta shook his head. “I would disappear. That would be it.”

“So you won't even try?”

Frowning, Shōta considered the question. “If I went with you, it would be the same. I would be gone anyway.”

“So now what?” Hizashi asked, walking over and holding out his hand. 

Shōta took his hand without hesitation. “I keep looking.”

Hizashi looked down. “So you're going to leave?”

“We both leave. This wasn't meant to be more than a few days.”

“I…wanted it to be,” Hizashi admitted, leaning into Shōta's chest. “I really, really wanted it to be.”

“I want to be here, Zashi. I have to go for now, but I'm not leaving you.”

---

What I Know

The hallway, March 21

Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain

• Hotta Brothers & Tokyo Times, April 1
• Multiple news articles, April 2
• Visited haka and family home, April 3

Eri is my daughter

• Hospital, March 24
• Located adoption record, April 22
• Kidnapping & case files, April 26

Secondary quirk strengthened

• Froze knives, May 3
• Stopped rubble, May 6
• Playground swings, May 7

I'm in love with Hizashi

• First kiss, March 27
• Tokyo, April 14
• Beach & Healing, 5/4-5/9

Notes:

OfA is not a 3rd new knowing because he only has one source. We'll get there.

Chapter 12: Separations

Ruse lifted the phone and turned off the alarm. He rolled back off of his side with a whine. His ribs were killing him and he couldn't remember why.

He forced himself to sit upright. Lifting his shirt revealed a mottling of red, blue and purple bruising. No yellow. Fresh. Stretching and twisting didn't reveal any other injuries. Not that the ribs weren't enough.

He looked at the phone's lock screen. 

7:48 AM

May 16

 

Miyazu

Mostly Cloudy

62°F/17°C

Miyazu?

He rubbed at the back of his head and dragged over the backpack. It was stuffed with his laptop, some random bits of technology, and a truly unreal amount of paper. 

The notebook listed some things to fact-check. The next one that wasn't crossed off was at Maizuru Naval Base. That was in the next city over. So today he was breaking into a heavily fortified military installation with probably-broken ribs. Perfect. 

He cleaned up, carefully wrapped his ribs, and re-dressed. Once he'd found a new place to crash and hid his bags, he headed out.

As he approached the guard house, he took out his phone and remotely activated the protocol he had created the night before. 

A military police officer stepped out to greet him. He casually removed his service cap and waved to the officer. The advantages of knowing that he wouldn't appear on the recordings.

“I'm here from the joint base to digitize some records,” he explained, holding out an ID. 

The officer examined the ID and nodded. “I'll just confirm that you're expected, Sakai.”

“Of course,” he beamed. 

The officer stepped into the booth, talked to a colleague briefly, then returned. “You'll be going to Building Kappa. You know where that is?” 

“Sure do!” Ruse replied, returning the cap to his head. “Thank you!”

The officer waved him off and he strolled across the base. 

He had planned thoroughly, but Ruse still kept his guard up. That was...easy.

Building Kappa was a long brick building, clearly with extra fireproofing and weatherproofing. When he walked in, he simply acted as if he was supposed to be there. If anyone got looked his way, they got a friendly but not too cheery hello. He didn't want to be remembered.

Behind the office area in the front was an extensive warehouse. Files were stacked meticulously on shelves that were 15 feet tall. Innumerable rows that seemed to go on forever. 

He walked with purpose to a specific area and began to look through the files. After about 30 minutes, he found what he was looking for. Records from a flight of JN1836 on March 21.

There were multiple versions. 

He took photos of all of them. Reading them here was too high a risk. He returned the file, then went in search of the archived personnel records for Hibino Yutaka and Furuya Eri. He'd found digital records for Hibino but none for Furuya, and that made everything feel suspect.

He held Furuya's file now, though. He photographed it, then moved on to Hibino's. There was nothing obviously different about Hibino's, but he'd have to compare them carefully.

Fast footfalls, coming in his direction. He'd hoped to get copies of the other crew's information, but there was no time for it. He replaced the files and their boxes carefully, then flipped up onto the top of the row. 

As military police spread out and searched, he carefully picked his way back toward the administrative area. He made sure to tell the office manager to have a wonderful day on his way out the door.

The plan had been to review the paper records, then find Hibino and Furuya. It was time for a new plan.

He walked with purpose, but without rushing, to the medical complex. He texted as he went.

Ruse: Kid, you need to go underground. Now.

Amp: y?

Ruse: Something is off.

Ruse: I think that I just kicked a hornet’s nest. 

Ruse: People know I'm connected to you. 

Ruse: And people know you're connected to Eraserhead.

Ruse: It's all mixed together somehow. 

Ruse: Just do it.

Amp: ur freaking me out, sensei

Ruse: Gotta go. Be safe.

He picked the lock on a door directly into an office space, skipping the reception area. A left. 2 rights. Then he went through the next door, closed it, and turned around. 

“Eraserhead?”

---

Shōta leaned back against the door to weather the waves of nausea that seemed to come from nowhere. The fluorescent lights hummed too loudly. His skin crawled. But none of those sensations held a candle to his confusion. 

He was looking at Hibino Yutaka.

Why was he looking at Hibino Yutaka?

“Eraserhead, we need to go. Now.”

Shōta shook his head and refocused his eyes on Hibino's face. He was terrified.

“Okay. Just…” Shōta closed his eyes.

---

Ruse opened his eyes again, grabbed Hibino by the arm, and pulled the both of them through the maze of hallways. He pulled down his hat as they walked to a nearby parking lot.

“Get in,” he directed, pointing to a car. “Do whatever I tell you to do. No questions.”

“Okay. Yeah,” he agreed with a shake to his voice. Hibino was mostly mute with fear after agreeing.

The two men changed cars twice more, changed clothes, and boarded a train to Osaka. They changed clothes again before doubling back to Miyazu for Ruse's bags. 

They got into a final car and got on the road. 

Ruse pulled over when they turned south, shortly after Tsuraga.

---

This time, Shōta came back to himself by throwing up on the side of a highway. He could still feel Hibino's eyes on him though.

Shōta leaned with his hands on his knees and took a few slow, deep breaths. “Okay, start talking.”

Hibino's laugh was wrought with manic fear.

Shōta turned his head to look at the distraught man. 

“Where do I even start?”

Steady enough now, Shōta straightened. “The last 20 minutes of the flight.”

Hibino looked at him, eyes wild. Whatever was happening was way outside of his context as a medic. Shōta needed to call back to something familiar.

“Lieutenant, report.”

“Sir.” The man's eyes cleared. “Primary nerve repair completed within 5 minutes of arrival. Ensign Furuya was tasked with transfer to hospital personnel. She proceeded indoors with the patient. I was advised that her services were needed by the hospital due to low staffing and assented. I was unable to contact her after that time.”

“How long until you were able to contact her?”

Hibino's eyes softened again, the fear returning. “She never came back. Nobody will talk about it. Last week, the Vice Admiral told me to stop asking.”

---

Shōta got out of the car in Shizuoka, but well outside of Musutafu. He leaned down to the driver's side window. 

“When you get to the gates at UA, ask to speak with Present Mic. I think Nezu would be a little too…enthusiastic,” Shōta said. 

Hibino nodded. “Got it.”

“He means well,” Shōta added. 

“Okay.”

“He's just been through a lot. I mean, we all have, but–”

Hibino's eyes showed a tired that had nothing to do with needing sleep. “I get it. He will be struggling, and I should give him grace.”

“They'll take good care of you. And they'll keep you safe from whatever it is we got dragged into.”

A nod. “Thanks.”

Shōta snorted. “Not sure you should be thanking me, but…you saved my life. I wouldn't have lasted until they found me.”

Hibino grimaced. “Not sure you should be thanking me either.”

“Hmm.”

Hibino looked to the road ahead. “I'll see you again sometime.”

Shōta nodded. “Til then.”

---

Naomasa was pulling open the door to his building. Shōta flicked a finger to close it. The alarmed detective turned around.

“Hello, Detective. I hear that you can corroborate a ghost story.”

Naomasa frowned. “All Might said you'd be coming. Ruse, right?”

“That's me,” Shōta nodded. 

Naomasa rubbed his forehead. “Do you want to come in then?” 

“I'm not a fool, Tsukauchi,” Shōta said flatly, gesturing to a bench. “I'm sure you can keep your voice down.”

Naomasa doubled back to the bench and took a seat. Shōta leaned against an adjacent tree.

Naomasa looked at him. “What he said was true.”

“Give me the quick overview, like I hadn't heard it before.”

“All Might inherited a power passed down for generations intended to kill All For One,” Naomasa said as he removed his hat. “He passed it to a new wielder before he learned that All For One was not dead as previously believed. That new wielder is a UA student named Midoriya Izuku.”

Shōta nodded.

“He was seriously injured in Jaku. After a child was kidnapped, he felt responsible for the school being targeted by All For One's followers and left. He's still at large.” Naomasa's shoulders slumped. 

“Why didn't you say anything before?” Shōta asked, his muscles painfully tight. 

“It's a state secret, Ruse.” Naomasa got up and walked back toward the apartment building's door. “I'm amazed that you got All Might to tell you. That makes you, quite frankly, more than a little terrifying.”

“Using a person's own guilt against them is surprisingly effective, Detective. I'm sure you know that.” Shōta said, following him. “You have any guilt of your own about it?”

Naomasa flipped through his keys. “What do you mean?”

“You know people at UA, you have friends there. Kids were targeted. People almost died multiple times.” 

“I couldn't have said anything,” Naomasa sighed, turning.

Shōta punched him right in the mouth.

Chapter 13: Hackles Up

Summary:

Shōta waited for Midoriya to speak first.

“You've been helping my friends.”

Simple, precise answers only. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I'm fond of them.”

This answer surprised Midoriya. Shōta smiled.

“Why are you here?”

Shōta smiled wider and held out a small package. “I'm fond of you too, Midoriya.”

Hizashi turned his head slightly at the sound of Shōta's boots hitting the pavement. He looked back and forth down the road. He was dressed for patrol but his directional speaker sat on one of the half-demolished café's tables. 

“Nezu is pissed at you, Ruse,” Hizashi said, tossing a piece of popcorn up in the air and catching it in his mouth.

Shōta walked to stand beside him and cracked his visor. “I'm assuming that means he's pissed at you too?”

“I'm too cute for anyone to stay mad at, baby,” Hizashi said with a wink.

“While that's true,” Shōta said ruefully, “I don't want to cause extra problems for you.” 

Hizashi waved a hand. “RG didn't know who you were and she didn't ask, bless her. She understands plausible deniability. The only thing I had to explain away was Maijima inspecting your helmet & nuking the extra sensor Ultraviolet put in it.”

“And?”

“I said I saw you cursing and stomping away from it and thought it must be a bomb. Tsuki was right there and knew I was telling the truth. He just didn't know I left out a bunch.” Hizashi smirked, clearly proud of himself.

Shōta huffed in amusement. 

“I am curious about your ‘conversations’ with All Might and Tsuki, though.” Hizashi elbowed him in the ribs.

“Any more attacks or attempted attacks on the school?” Shōta asked.

Hizashi shook his head. “Even Nezu commented that it's been oddly silent the last few weeks.”

Shōta nodded. “Then I don't want to make you responsible for knowing. Especially if they've decided to maintain their silence.”

Hizashi frowned. “All right. I'm supposed to ask you to call Nezu if I see you.”

“Consider me asked,” he said blandly.

“Are you going to call him?” Hizashi moved a little closer.

“Maybe. I have to do something else first, or else he'll just want to talk to me again.” Shōta looked at Hizashi in his peripheral.

“Do I want to know?”

“Again, not unless you want to be responsible for knowing.”

Hizashi leaned into Shōta's side. 

A smile twitched on Shōta’s lips. “You alone out here? You're risking your own plausible deniability.”

“Kids aren't supposed to meet up with me for another 20 minutes,” Hizashi answered.

Shōta put an arm around Hizashi's shoulders and pulled him more snugly into his side.

The Hizashi smile contrasted with the overall Present Mic appearance. “Let me see you?”

Shōta swallowed, looking away down the street. Hizashi had always cared this way. Prodded at him when he hid himself away for too long. Pulled his hair back to find his eyes. Heard the things that he didn't say. 

Why did it feel so different now?

Hesitantly, he removed the helmet, holding it loosely at his side. Hizashi twisted in Shōta's hold to look at his face. The discomfort of being so seen made Shōta's shoulders tense, and it only got stronger when Hizashi gently turned his face.

Their eyes met and the tension bled away. Shōta closed his eyes and leaned into Hizashi's hand. The man's other hand lifted to touch the sensitive skin under his left eye. Hizashi clicked his tongue at the half-healed black eye.

“You're being safe?” Hizashi asked.

“Safe as I can be.”

“You promise?”

Shōta opened his eyes to give a small smile. “I told you, Hizashi. I won't leave you again.”

Hizashi nodded, his smile tight. 

Shōta smirked. “Iida's coming. I can hear the engines. Only 15 minutes early is an improvement for him.”

“Well, he's had to learn to rest. Can't live your life in 5th gear all the time,” Hizashi answered.

“Mmm. Good.” Shōta rested his forehead against Hizashi's for a long moment before springing away.

---

Midoriya.

Shōta wasn't ready to see Midoriya, even though he was the one waiting on the projected path through the business district.

Reading reports. Seeing photos. Watching videos. None of it could have prepared him.

The teen's suit was almost black from the dirt and blood that had dried into it. How much of the blood was Midoriya's? How many other people's blood had caked into it?

The kid himself honestly looked half-dead. Green curls hung limp and flat. Fatigue weighted his movements. The way his arms swung was wrong somehow. 

The one thing that remained was the intelligence and determination in the boy's eyes. Those eyes were trained on him now. Picking him apart. 

Shōta waited for Midoriya to speak first. 

“You've been helping my friends.”

Simple, precise answers only. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I'm fond of them.”

This answer surprised Midoriya. Shōta smiled.

“Why are you here?”

Shōta smiled wider and held out a small package. “I'm fond of you too, Midoriya.”

Midoriya took a small step back. “What is that?"

“Arm braces.”

Midoriya looked at him suspiciously. “I don't need them.”

Shōta just snorted. He put them down on the rooftop between them and backed away slowly. 

“I don't want your help.”

Shōta turned his back to the boy. “You can't afford to break yourself before your big fight arrives.”

Before Midoriya could get too spooked by that statement, Shōta withdrew. He made sure Midoriya could easily track his departure. As much as he wanted to know, he didn't look to see what the boy chose to do with the gift.

---

Ruse stood outside of the gates to UA and stared up at the camera. 

“I've contacted Nezu. He is on his way, Ruse-san.” Thirteen's voice.

Nezu walked out of the gates, alone, several minutes later. Calm. Composed. Well-groomed.

A curious change.

“I heard that you wanted to talk,” Ruse said, his boredom clear.

“Yes, I'm quite concerned about your recent actions, Ruse,” Nezu said in his typical chipper tone. “Your interactions with my students, staff, and allies have been quite…chaotic.”

Ruse crossed his arms and almost wished Nezu could see his eye roll. “And?”

Nezu grimaced. “I'm territorial. It's best not to mess with what's mine.”

Ruse leaned down, hands on his knees, to be eye level with the rat. “Oh my,” he said mockingly. “Did someone forget to teach you that you don't own people?”

Nezu bared his teeth and his hackles raised. He fully growled. 

Ruse laughed. Truly, deeply laughed.

The rat's launch at him was unexpected but easily dealt with. Ruse flicked his wrist to fling him away. Nezu skidded to a stop on all fours, still growling.

“I don't want to fight you, Nezu-san,” Ruse said coolly, keeping his posture relaxed. “If there's something that you would like from me, I'm happy to help.”

Nezu slowly straightened upright, onto to his back paws. “Get away from my school.”

Ruse chuckled. “Sure thing. If you decide you want something, you can call.”

Ruse leaned forward, put a piece of paper in Nezu's vest pocket, and patted it.

Nezu bit Ruse through his glove. The rat's jaw locked.

The two froze. Before it could escalate again, Cementoss opened the door behind Nezu. 

“Sir, you're needed inside.”

Nezu unhooked his jaws and wiped the red from his snout with a handkerchief. He disappeared back inside the gates under Cementoss’ wary gaze. 

Notes:

“I'm territorial. It's best not to mess with what's mine.” - Shōta said the exact same thing to Kimura in chapter 10.

Chapter 14: All a Matter of Perspective

Summary:

Midoriya's eyebrows furrowed and he took a step forward. “Are you homeless, Ruse-san?”

Was the kid really worried about Shōta, like he wasn't also homeless at the moment? “I have a home, I just…can't go there right now. Like you.”

The sadness in the kid's face had the intensity and draw of a collapsing star.

Notes:

Tw: at the end, very brief possible implication made that Shōta is grooming.

“Um…excuse me?”

Shōta lifted his head. “Hey kid.”

A small anxious smile. 

Midoriya would need a lot of reassuring feedback. That was tough with the helmet on. Shōta's posture was already comfortable and non-threatening. Maybe part of why Midoriya had approached at all? He was leaning against the roof's ledge with one leg stretched out, the other knee raised with an arm across it.

“You need somethin’?”

Midoriya shook his head. “No. I wanted to say thanks.”

Shōta tilted his head. 

Midoriya held up his arms, clad in the red arm braces.

“Mmm. They look good with your suit.”

“Oh.” Midoriya looked down at himself. He clearly hadn't even considered that. 

Shōta chuckled. 

“They'd probably look even better if the rest wasn't filthy,” Midoriya admitted with a nervous laugh.

“Maybe,” Shōta agreed. “You'll also get more out of the suit if you take care of it. I imagine it's a little stiff.”

“You think?” Midoriya asked. “I guess I didn't consider the impact of fluids or particulates getting into the fabric, but it definitely makes sense that build-up would affect the pliability. And depending on the types of each, there's probably different effects. I wonder how they interact with each other in different amounts? Sweat and blood have different viscosities, so–”

Shōta found himself relaxing as the kid settled into one of his rambles. It was jarring when he cut himself off. “Why'd you stop?”

“Oh, sometimes it freaks people out when I do that,” he laughed nervously, folding his arms.

“Don't apologize for being smart, kid,” Shōta yawned. “So do you have anywhere safe to clean up?” 

Midoriya tensed.

Shōta held up both open palms to the teen. “Not suggesting anything. Just a question.”

“Right. Not exactly. Or else I probably wouldn't look this way, right?”

“A lot of the office buildings in the business district had exercise facilities. If you spend time there, you might be able to find a relatively intact locker room that still has running water.”

Midoriya's eyebrows furrowed and he took a step forward. “Are you homeless, Ruse-san?”

Was the kid really worried about Shōta, like he wasn't also homeless at the moment? “I have a home, I just…can't go there right now. Like you.”

The sadness in the kid's face had the intensity and draw of a collapsing star.

Shōta didn't want the kid falling into those feelings too hard. “You got anything to write on?”

Midoriya straightened up. “What?”

“I have a secured phone. I'll give you the number. In case you're ever in trouble.”

Midoriya wrung his hands. 

“Or not, kid. It's not a big deal. Even if you take mine, you don't have to give me yours.”

Midoriya pulled a pen and a small pad of paper out of one of his belt pockets. He flipped through it, and of course the pages were filled with notes, diagrams, and calculations. Shōta waited for Midoriya to find a blank space before he listed off the number.

“Don't feel like you have to use it, okay? Just…don't feel alone out here either,” Shōta said gently.

Midoriya nodded as he pocketed the notebook and pen again. He went back to wringing his hands. He might be an incredibly powerful person, but at the end of the day, he was also an isolated and terrified child.

“You want me to leave first again…?”

Midoriya bit his lip in thought. “If…if you don't mind?”

Shōta nodded. “I'm gonna get up then.”

Midoriya took a few steps back. Once the teen stilled, Shōta climbed to his feet.

“Stay safe.”

“You too, Ruse-san.”

Shōta nodded and disappeared from sight.

---

Snarling, he yanked on the black cloth wrapped between his fingers to pull the intruder into the light.

“I'm not gonna lie, Shō-chan, this throwback is pretty hot,” Hizashi giggled.

“Go away,” Shōta answered, releasing the other man and recoiling the cloth around his forearm.

He turned his back to the other man. He held his arm steady and visualized the cloth wrapping around the can 10 feet ahead. It reached out but knocked it over before it could wrap properly.

“Maybe you're pushing yourself too hard?” Hizashi suggested.

Shōta only shook his head and tried for the next can. That one fell too. He took a slow, centering breath. This time he crushed the can.

Hizashi laid his hand on the outstretched arm. “Hey…take a break.”

“Can't.”

“Shōta.”

“I said ‘go away.’”

“Why?”

Shōta turned to glower at the blonde.

“No, really,” Hizashi said, crossing his arms. “Why? So you can bury yourself in training? Hmm, what does that remind me of?”

Shōta's eyes sparked red. “It. Is. Not. The. Same.”

“Feels the same,” Hizashi said with an almost casual sharpness.

“This time it's possible to actually fix something. And I've done a shit job at it so far.” 

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “You think you're doing a shit job?”

“Okay, fine. Let's go through the last 4 weeks,” Shōta hissed.

“Shō…”

“First, I discovered evidence that I was supposed to die at Jaku, several times over. In the process, I put Amplitude directly into the line of fire.” Shōta paced around the space. “I also ambushed the former #1, punched one of my best friends, and got bit during a physical fight with my father. Meanwhile, Midoriya is still out there by himself and I have literally no clues about Eri.”

“You're a real asshole to you sometimes,” Hizashi said, shaking his head sadly.

Shōta flopped down into the chair. “What the hell does that even mean, Hizashi?”

“You survived Jaku even though you ‘weren't supposed to’. You mentored a new young hero that's been keeping Naruhata safe. You came home, even though it terrified you, because even UA couldn't keep Eri safe like we all presumed. You found out part of that was some secret to do with Midoriya, and you made Yagi & Tsukauchi tell you about it. You wouldn't let Nezu intimidate you away. You're the only one that's managed to track Midoriya, nevermind talk to the kid. And I've seen how ragged you're making yourself trying to find anything at all about Eri.”

Shōta looked down.

“Right,” Hizashi said smugly. “So stop being an asshole to you, because I love you.”

His head snapped up. “I need you to be really, really clear about what that means."

“You couldn't tell? I'm gonna have to seriously step up my game then.” Hizashi smiled. “Aizawa Shōta, I'm in love with you.” 

Shōta searched Hizashi's face.

“What, you don't believe me?” Hizashi's smile morphed into a smirk. “I'll yell it, and you know the whole district will hear me.”

“Shut up for once, idiot,” Shōta growled. “I'm in love with you too.”

The blonde laughed. 

---

Ruse: Who else do you know in Shizuoka?

Kimura: You still won't talk to UV?

Ruse: I told you when I got the arm braces from you. I will not work with UV.

Kimura: I still think you should give her another shot, Kata.

Ruse: She bugged my helmet the first time we met.

Ruse: Push it again and I'll make sure people know what kind of friend you are, Hatake.

Kimura: Fine. What did you need this time?

Ruse: Information. Anything worthwhile you can tell me about that UA kidnapping.

Kimura: Aww, between that and who's been caught on video wearing the braces…are you trying to make a new young male friend? 

Ruse: You had better not be implying what I think you are. 

Kimura: I would never. 

Kimura: Besides, my money is on the person you brought for your helmet repair. You were protective of them. 

Ruse: Will you look into the kidnapping or not?

Kimura: You know that I take care of my friends. 

Kimura: I'll let you know if I find anything.

Chapter 15: Forward and Back

Summary:

Unknown: He's still a student, officially, so he's still under UA protection.

Ruse: Let me know when that starts meaning something.

Ruse renamed Unknown to Stoat.

Stoat: I am a rat, not a stoat. Are you being intentionally obtuse?

Ruse: No, it just amuses me to make you angry.

Shōta followed the sounds of the screaming. 

Midoriya was surrounded by civilians. Civilians with improvised weapons. 

Why was he letting them beat him? If these were some organized group of troublemakers, he shouldn't have any problem subduing them. Unless…

Shōta scanned the wider surroundings. 

There. 

He swung into the square, well behind the crowd of civilians, aiming a direct kick to Dictator's chest. Because of the man's stooped posture, Shōta's boot crunched into his face. As soon as he could tie up the villain, he turned to Midoriya.

The civilians had fled, essentially unharmed because Midoriya refused to fight back. 

“Kid, you okay?”

Midoriya wiped his bloodied nose. “You're here.”

“‘Course. You needed help.” Shōta walked toward him.

“How did you know?” Midoriya watched him warily, taking a few steps back.

“Huh?” Shōta stopped. 

“It's just…awfully convenient that you happened to be nearby.” He took a vaguely defensive stance.

Shōta went against all his instincts to relax, especially since the villain behind them was stirring. “I've been around for weeks, and there were a dozen screaming people. Kinda stands out.”

“I looked into you more” Midoriya said, looking increasingly attack-ready. “You showed up the day after I left UA.”

“Okay?”

“You've been helping my classmates, and you offered to help me. But you know too much. And you attacked All Might, and the Detective, and my principal.”

Shōta grimaced. “All Might put you in this position by giving you his quirk. The Detective covered for him. UA and its principal failed to protect all of you, and it failed to protect Eri.”

Midoriya's eyes were bright with anger. “And you could do so much better?”

“No. Mistakes were made. A lot of them. I made them too.” Shōta shook away the increasing static. “That's why I'm here now, why I'm reaching my hand out to help.”

“I'm as powerful now as All Might was at his prime,” Midoriya bit back. “I don't need your help.”

Shōta sighed. “All Might had David Shield and Nighteye. No person can be an island, kid. I've tried. Just…let someone help you.”

---

Unknown: I thought I told you to get away from my school.

Ruse: I have.

Unknown: Yet you keep speaking with Young Midoriya.

Ruse: He's pretty clearly separated from the school.

Unknown: He's still a student, officially, so he's still under UA protection.

Ruse: Let me know when that starts meaning something.

Ruse renamed Unknown to Stoat.

Stoat: I am a rat, not a stoat. Are you being intentionally obtuse?

Ruse: No, it just amuses me to make you angry.

Stoat: You're a fool. My staff and students have been instructed to capture you on sight.

Ruse: On what grounds?

Stoat: I don't trust you to stay away from my school and its people.

Ruse: And if you find out that someone connected to UA ignores or contradicts that clearly illegal directive?

Stoat: I think you'll find my people are very loyal. 

Ruse: Except for the “security issue” that you “fully resolved.” How do you know there aren't others?

Stoat: I've personally reviewed every person within these walls over the last 4 weeks. 

Ruse: None of that helps the little girl they already took from right under your nose, Stoat.

 

Sunshine: [location.gpx]🫢🥳🤩

 

Shōta quickly gave up on deciphering what the emoji were supposed to mean. He just focused on getting there. 

He landed on the roadway a few buildings away from the pinned location. Hizashi waved him over excitedly. 

“Mic. I hear that you're supposed to be apprehending me, not greeting me with the enthusiasm of a 6 year old.”

Hizashi blew a raspberry in response. 

“Hey boss.” Naoki leaned in the doorway behind Hizashi.

Shōta examined his protégé. Once he was sure the teen wasn't injured, Shōta crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one hip. “Why are you here?”

“Uh oh, little listener,” Hizashi teased. “You made him all grumpy. Look at his unimpressed lil pose!”

“Didn't you miss me?” Naoki smirked. 

Shōta sighed. “Whatever.”

Hizashi whispered loudly, “that's Ruse for ‘yes’.”

Naoki cackled. “So I can stay with you for a while then?”

“No,” Shōta answered. “You know I don't keep a place.”

“You and Mic aren't roommates?” Naoki asked, genuinely confused.

Shōta turned slowly to look at Hizashi.

Hizashi was bright red. “You were stressed out, so I asked him to come?”

“And there were emoji, and they weren't scary, so I knew it wasn't you?” Naoki volunteered.

“And then I deleted the messages so you wouldn't know?” Hizashi giggled.

“The two of you have been in the same space for less than 30 seconds and I'm already exhausted,” Shōta complained.

Hizashi patted his chest. “Sorry not sorry, babe.”

“Babe?” Naoki cracked up. “Oh my God, are you that kind of ‘roommates’?”

“Well this was fun. Goodbye now,” Shōta grumbled as he started walking.

“Wait, wait,” Naoki said, struggling to control his laughter as he walked alongside Shōta. “Sorry. I…whew. Okay.”

Hizashi was clearly enjoying the whole dynamic too much.

“I thought maybe we could patrol together for a little bit. There's this person that has been seriously creeping me out in Tokyo,” Naoki explained. 

Shōta stopped walking.

Naoki continued, “I figure that if I'm here for a while and they don't show up, I was just being paranoid. And if they do show up, then my sensei can help me kick their ass into next week.”

“You can stay at my apartment,” Hizashi piped up. “Only one condition.”

“What?” Naoki asked suspiciously.

Hizashi's grin broadened. “I get to call you Baby Eraser.” 

Shōta laughed.

Naoki made a face. “I'd rather be homeless.”

“Ugh, Amplitude, you really are like him. You know that?” Hizashi sighed dramatically. 

Naoki smiled. “Kinda proud of it, actually.”

---

Shōta flipped through the pages, putting down a stack and sticking the pen under the edge of the helmet liner. He picked up another to re-read a section.

Hizashi sighed, laying with his long legs hanging over the arm of the couch.. “Are you going to insist on wearing that any time you're here now?"

Shōta huffed.

“It's been 3 days,” Hizashi whined.

Dropping the papers to his lap in irritation, Shōta signed back, “you asked the kid to stay here.”

“I didn't realize that he'd never seen or heard you without the helmet, you dingus.”

They realized Naoki was listening from the bathroom when he choked on his toothpaste. 

Shōta snorted and went back to his reading. 

“At least you're getting better at signing,” Hizashi muttered.

Naoki spit out the toothpaste and called out, “if it's going to make Mommy and Daddy fight, I can find somewhere else!”

“Nah, kid, I just have to convince him that other people won't spontaneously combust if they see his face!” Hizashi called back. “It's a shame that he's depriving the world, Naoki-kun, he's actually very handsome!”

Shōta glared at Hizashi, but the impact wasn't nearly as strong with only his eyes visible.

Naoki came out and sat cross-legged on the floor beside Shōta. “Ignoring that for my sanity. What are you working on, sensei? Some kind of reports?”

Hizashi rolled to sit up. “You two never did any kind of investigation together? I'm surprised. He's a great fighter, but investigations are his real specialty.” 

Naoki leaned over a stack to read the top page. “You've been holding out on me?”

Shōta's shoulders dropped and he stared at the ceiling in frustration.

Hizashi pushed the helmet onto Shōta's head. “Go on, Ruse-sensei,” he prodded.

Naoki straightened up. “Wait, you're looking for Eraser?”

“Not exactly,” Shōta answered, modulator active. “I'm looking for the little girl that was kidnapped from UA.”

“But this one is about Eraser's disappearance,” Naoki pointed. “I recognize that detective's name. He – nevermind.”

“What do you know about the kidnapping, little listener?” Hizashi asked.

“Not much. Fresh eyes, I guess?” Naoki offered.

Hizashi frowned, his voice gentle. “That little girl…she's Eraser's daughter.”

“Aizawa-sensei's a dad?” Naoki said with a small smile.

“Yeah, kid. A really good one.” Hizashi sniffled. 

Shōta cleared his throat. 

The room fell quiet as Naoki read. He carefully reviewed each stack before returning it exactly as he found it. He would ask an occasional question about the timeline, or why Shōta had put something into one place over another, or comparing small details. They'd spent more than half the day that way. 

Hizashi was working on making a late lunch when Naoki broke the silence again. 

“Hey sensei, there's a lady in this picture that matches a stack over there?” Naoki held up a photograph.

Shōta looked up. “Hmm?” 

Naoki pointed. “She's way in the background, and a little blurry, but I'm pretty sure – “

Shōta took the picture from Naoki, his hands shaking minutely. He called to Hizashi, “Furuya was at the press conference on April 26.” 

“April 26…wait,” Hizashi practically tripped over his own feet as he reappeared from the kitchen. “You're not talking about the one after Eri & Midoriya?”

“Whoa, whoa…who's Furuya again?” Naoki asked. 

Hizashi looked at Shōta, then back to Naoki. “She was supposed to transfer Eraserhead to the staff at Central Hospital after the Jaku Hospital Raid. But…something happened. She disappeared, and so did all the electronic records of her. That was March 21st.”

“And this is from April 26.” Naoki said slowly.

Shōta closed his eyes. Put all his energy into staying focused. Pushing back the static. Not panicking.

Hizashi's voice was close now. “We have a lead!”

Naoki whooped.

Shōta focused on Hizashi's glee and Naoki's pride. 

They could do this. 

He could do this.

Notes:

I just need to say how much I enjoy writing Naoki. He was not originally going to be any significant anything, but I love him so much.

Chapter 16: At Any Cost

Summary:

Shōta curled his body tighter. He felt his feet and calves touch each other, and it felt wrong. He remembered the clarity that allowed him to cut off part of his right leg. He remembered the aftermath.

It shouldn't be there.

Cutting it off was supposed to keep her safe.

Some part of his mind wanted to cut it off all over again. Maybe doing that would make Eri safe. Maybe it would bring her home.

He knew it wouldn't but that didn't stop him from being disgusted at his leg's wholeness.

“A quirk deleter!”

If Shōta dropped Erasure for even a fraction of a second, Shigaraki would gain the upper hand. Shigaraki could win. Eri would live in his world. And if Erasure was lost permanently…

No. 

Shōta would make sure that his girl could keep smiling. Any cost was worth paying to keep her smiling.

No time to hesitate. 

The bullet hit his calf. The burning started to spread. 

Be rational.

Shōta drew his tantō, flipped it in his hand, and pulled it hard below his knee. 

Flesh and bone was nothing for a knife intended to cut through carbon fiber alloy. Even knowing that, the ease and smoothness of the cut was disconcerting.

Pain receptors caught up with what he'd done but Shōta refused to blink. He held the image of Eri's smile in his mind as he maintained Erasure. 

Shigaraki was on Shōta in seconds. His hands were caked in the dust and decay that he'd wrought. Shōta turned his head, trying to both maintain eye contact and to keep his eyes away from the monster. Now those fingernails were gouging into his right eye. The eye gave way with a searing heat and a sickening pop. At least Shōta still had one eye. Maybe it could be enough to save Eri's happiness.

He heard himself scream. 

---

His throat was raw. 

“Hey, hey…kitten, you're safe. Whatever you're remembering, it's only a memory.”

Hizashi. Hizashi was talking. 

“It's June first. It's 3:17 AM. We're at my apartment in Musutafu.”

Hizashi was holding him.

“We're safe, and healthy, and whole.”

Shōta curled his body tighter. He felt his feet and calves touch each other, and it felt wrong. He remembered the clarity that allowed him to cut off part of his right leg. He remembered the aftermath. 

It shouldn't be there. 

Cutting it off was supposed to keep her safe. 

Some part of his mind wanted to cut it off all over again. Maybe doing that would make Eri safe. Maybe it would bring her home. 

He knew it wouldn't but that didn't stop him from being disgusted at his leg's wholeness. 

He felt furious about his solid, functioning eye too. He remembered half his vision going dark, and the other half dimming. He remembered the desperation for it to be enough.

His fingers curled against his face. Hizashi pulled them away. 

“Having both eyes and both legs will help you find her, my love,” Hizashi whispered, his own voice strained. 

Shōta gasped. “What if…they already…and she was scared…and alone…”

“They'd be rubbing UA's nose in it publicly if…if that happened,” Hizashi replied unsteadily. “And with everything they went through to take her alive...”

Shōta closed his eyes tightly. He wished it was enough to block the static, but it wasn't. Instead, he focused on the sound of Hizashi's heartbeat until exhaustion took over.

---

Naoki put a cup of coffee down in front of Shōta. 

Shōta had woken up early and been unable to fall back asleep, so he was reviewing his file on Furuya. It was mostly her military paper file, with a few additional things he'd been able to recover.

“Hey boss,” the teen said, sitting down with his own cup of coffee. 

Shōta looked up and nodded to him. He eyed the mug of coffee before resuming his note-taking.

“You, uh…good?”

Sighing, Shōta ripped a page from the back of his notebook and wrote. He didn't look up after, just slid the page over. “I'm sorry for waking you up last night. Nightmare.”

The teen turned the page, read it, and then nudged the coffee closer. Shōta looked from the coffee mug to the boy. 

“Hot liquids help with sore throats,” Naoki explained, fidgeting with the handle of his own mug. 

Shōta pushed the file away as he considered the teen. Naoki had always been more than his sassy exterior. They really were alike in a lot of ways. 

He pushed the mask up onto his nose. It wasn't the most comfortable. The fabric gathered too close to his eyes and put too much pressure on his still healing nose, but that was bearable. He sipped the coffee. 

Naoki smiled and raised his own mug to his lips again. “I just saw part of your face and I didn't spontaneously combust.”

A snort quickly turned into coughing on coffee. Laughing, Naoki rushed into the kitchen and then back to the table with a handful of napkins.

“Sorry, sensei,” Naoki said as he held them out. 

Shōta shook his head as he wiped his mouth. He pulled the mask back down so he could see well enough to write. The notebook paper hadn't been spared droplets of coffee.

Naoki scooted over to read as Shōta wrote.

“Everything around me…I break it somehow. I always have. Worse than usual lately.” He paused to choose his words. “I've already put you in danger. You don't need me adding more to it.”

“Mic obviously knows who you are,” Naoki argued.

Shōta sighed. “He's the only one, and he's managed to stick around for years. He's like rubber. Bends not breaks.”

Naoki snickered. “Bet that's nice in your private ‘roommate’ time.”

Shōta's eyes widened. He pushed Naoki clear off the chair. The teen just laughed harder on the floor. 

Hizashi wandered into the living room with comical levels of bedhead. “What's so funny?”

Naoki opened his mouth to answer. Shōta hissed at him.

---

“Really?” 

Shōta and Naoki stopped at the voice, dripping with disappointment.

Naoki lifted his goggles. “Oh, it's that radioactive broccoli from UA.”

Midoriya made an indignant noise. “What?”

“Radio. Active. Broccoli,” Naoki said slowly, over-enunciating.

Laughing, Shōta grabbed Naoki's arm. “Leave the kid alone.”

“He started it!” Naoki protested.

Shōta was exasperated. “You don't even know what he was going to say. You don't need to look for fights where there isn't one.”

Naoki crossed his arms and huffed.

Shōta turned to Midoriya. “So what were you going to say?”

“Nevermind,” Midoriya muttered.

Naoki rolled his eyes. “Lost your nerve, eh?”

“Excuse me?”

Shōta closed his eyes and reminded himself that they were teenage boys. “Say something or don't, so we can all move on.”

“Last time I saw you, Ruse-san, I told you all the reasons that I don't trust you,” Midoriya began.

Shōta opened his eyes and watched Midoriya gain steam. 

“Which is honestly fair, I think, because your whole thing is super suspicious. You tell me nobody can be an island. And you're all genuine about it, and I honestly was thinking that maybe…” Midoriya took a deep breath to continue. “But then he shows up. Having your younger sidekick come from Tokyo to make it seem like you're walking the walk, and to be generally less threatening? That's a pretty good idea.” 

Shōta looked at Naoki, who looked both perplexed and irritated.

“Only one problem,” Midoriya continued, pointing at Naoki. “You really came to Musutafu, to Eraserhead's city, like that? He's missing. His kid is missing. His class is a wreck. You both should be embarrassed that you thought that cheap play on my sensei would trick me into trusting you more.”

Naoki's voice was sharp but quiet. “He was my sensei first, twerp. I was one of the last people to see him before he disappeared. And I'm helping Ruse-sensei look for his daughter. So watch your goddamned mouth.”

Shōta held Naoki tightly by the upper arm.

Midoriya tilted his head, his whole demeanor shifting. “He was your sensei too?”

“Yeah, your ears broken?!” Naoki clearly hadn't quite caught the change. “12 years ago, way before he was yours.”

Midoriya mumbled to himself counting on his fingers, before speaking at full volume again.  “So he was…18? Was that when he was working in Naruhata, on the string of trigger cases?”

Naoki finally keyed into the excitement in Midoriya's voice. “Uh…yeah?”

Midoriya bit his lip. “So he was a sensei before he was a sensei…at UA, I mean.”

Naoki nodded, finally relaxing. “Yeah, we grew up in the same neighborhood. Heroes and police avoided it. So he started teaching a bunch of us kids how to defend ourselves and whatever, because of the instant villains.”

“Did you ever have to fight one?” Midoriya asked, his eyes bright.

“I was 7 when I started, man,” Naoki said, shaking his head. “But he did stick around until I was 12.”

Shōta observed the volley between them. It was personally unsettling to hear himself talked about like this. More importantly, it was also working. He waited.

“So your fighting style being like his makes a lot of sense, then. Even if you had other teachers after that, it was a solidly built foundation. You obviously must have had other teachers, really. To be a vigilante now, you'd have needed to keep training…”

Naoki nodded and finally let a smile creep up a bit. “Yeah, I was still in martial arts until the raids went bad. Same dojo that Eraser trained in as a kid, and that he trained me in.”

“That's so cool!” Midoriya froze. “Wait, wait. Did you say that you've been looking for Eri-chan?”

Shōta cleared his throat. “Yeah, kid.”

Naoki's eyes widened. “Oh my God, I just put it together. That night, in Saitama, you heard the news. That's why you were suddenly ready to hotwire a car.”

Midoriya spluttered. “You what?”

“Nevermind,” Shōta said, waving his hands. “Not important.”

“That's why you've been here all along, Ruse-san?” Midoriya frowned in thought. “You came to Musutafu to look for Eri-chan?”

“Yes,” Shōta replied. “As soon as I heard about it.”

“Why didn't you say that the first time you saw me…?”

Shōta shook his head. “You've doubted everything I've said from the start. You would have assumed I was lying.”

Midoriya nodded. “That's fair. But maybe, if you want people to believe you, don't name yourself ‘trick’?”

Naoki laughed at the insight and the earnest way that Midoriya suggested it.

“So can I help?” Midoriya asked nervously. "Eri-chan is really special to me."

Shōta acted unaffected, despite the full feeling in his chest. “If you want to.”

For the first time in months, Shota saw Midoriya's full, megawatt smile. Naoki beamed right back. His two students, working together, and with him.

Another piece clicked back into place.

Chapter 17: The Gang's All Here

Summary:

Naoki leaned forward. “Is your hair naturally pink?”

“No. Anything else?” Shōta crossed his arms.

“Now I have a lot more questions,” Naoki plowed forward. “Why pink?”

Shōta glared, not that Naoki could see it. “No.”

“It's his favorite color,” Hizashi chimed in.

Izuku started giggling hysterically but tried to muffle it. “Really?”

Shōta growled.

“That brings up my next point,” Hizashi jumped in. “You aren't leaving until you've actually slept. You're at least half-feral right now.”

Shōta huffed and stomped off to the bedroom.

Upon opening the roof access door to his own apartment building, Hizashi was already complaining. “I know you have this whole rooftop aesthetic, but why –”

He froze as he turned the corner. 

“Mic-sensei?”

Hizashi exclaimed, “Midoriya-kun!”

“You're Ruse-san's…uh…” Midoriya trailed off.

Hizashi looked at Shōta, who was unreadable behind the helmet's visor.

“They're ‘roommates’,” Naoki fake-whispered with exaggerated air quotes.

Hizashi squeaked. 

“They still need to have the ‘so what are we’ talk,” Naoki continued in his fake-whisper.

Midoriya scratched his head. “Oh. I always thought…well…uh…nevermind what I thought. You're not going to make me go back to UA. Right, Mic-sensei?”

Hizashi smiled, knowing how to answer this one. “Nah, little listener. Not unless you want to. And we are very not at school, so you can call me Hizashi here.”

“Oh,” Midoriya said, turning red. “Izuku then, I guess?”

Hizashi and Izuku both grinned. 

Naoki covered his eyes. “Those two are going to give me a tan…”

Shōta snorted. 

Hizashi shoved Shōta playfully. “So Ruse collects another Eraserhead fanboy, and I get a new roommate. Is that about the score?”

“Oh,” Izuku said. And then it clicked and his eyes went as wide as saucers. 

“We'll need to figure out some other long-term plan,” Shōta clarified. “People will watch us more closely once they connect that the three of us are working together.”

Hizashi frowned, thinking through what that really meant. “Naoki-kun, do you want to show Izuku-kun the room you'll share until we sort things out?”

Naoki looked between the two adults, and landed pointedly on Shōta. “See you both inside soon?”

Shōta nodded.

“Thank you for sharing your home with me.” Izuku said in a rush before bowing and trailing inside after Naoki.

Once the door closed, Shōta took off the helmet & liner and put it down on the ground. 

Hizashi laughed. “Helmet hair's on point today, babe.”

Shōta grunted but didn't complain. He tossed his gloves on top of the helmet. 

“You're happy,” Hizashi said with a knowing smile. 

One corner of Shōta's mouth ticked up into a smile of his own. “On the way here he called me 'Ruse-sensei.'”

Hizashi held one of his hands. “Felt right?”

“Yes. Or closer to right, at least,” Shōta agreed. 

Hizashi tilted his head. “Naoki was really laying it on thick about us being ‘roommates,’ huh?”

Shōta shrugged, his cheeks turning as pink as his helmet hair.

“We don't have to call it anything,” Hizashi began.

Shōta bit the inside of his lip and turned his head to look away. “Oh. Right.”

Hizashi leaned a little to catch his gaze. “But we can.”

Shōta licked his lips, thinking, and Hizashi waited patiently. 

“I want…” Shōta's eyebrows crinkled in thought. 

Hizashi rubbed his thumb over the back of Shōta's hand. Shōta looked at that, then at Hizashi's face. 

“This...it's something to me,” Shōta landed on. 

Hizashi's face softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We always joked that we were platonic life partners, but…it's never really been platonic for me.”

“You didn't have a hard time with those words,” Hizashi teased. 

Shōta shifted uncomfortably. “I've been thinking about them for a while.”

Hizashi kissed the tip of his nose. “I wasn't trying to embarrass you, kitten. I'm really happy that you knew what you wanted to say about it. So…‘partners’?”

Shōta nodded with a small smile. 

Hizashi jumped up and wrapped his legs around Shōta's waist, one fist up in the air. “Partners then!”

Shōta kissed him, his fingertips rising under the hem of Hizashi's shirt and along his spine. 

Hizashi arched his back. “Shō, babe, you can't touch me like that if you're gonna keep bringing home kids like stray cats.”

“But if I do, you'll let me keep them,” Shōta smirked, dragging his nails lightly back down. 

“Mmm,” Hizashi agreed, with a little quiver. “You keep that up and I'll let you do a lot of things.”

Shōta's breath caught at that. His hands wandered slowly back up, watching Hizashi's reaction to the sensation against his bare skin. Hizashi's eyes were bright with heat by the time Shōta kissed him again. 

When Hizashi moaned into his mouth, Shōta's fingertips pressed firmly into his back. Hizashi gently pulled Shōta's head back by his hair and Shōta's mouth opened wider all on its own. Shōta couldn't remember ever having made the low rumbling noise that escaped him then. 

Hizashi spluttered in confusion. Shōta had abruptly hidden his face in Hizashi's chest. Hizashi hadn't heard the door open behind Shōta. 

“Hey, I was going to show Izuk- oh my God.” Naoki was laughing loudly. “Sorry to interrupt special ‘roommate’ time.”

Hizashi hugged Shōta's head, put his own face down on top, and giggled nervously. “Yeah, yeah. We're adults. Both of you, go to your room or whatever.”

When the door closed, Hizashi unhooked his ankles but Shōta's grip on him only tightened. “Where do you think you're going?”

---

They all sat in the living room early the next morning. Shōta hadn't slept, his mind running about next steps instead. He grumbled internally about wearing a 5-pound tactical helmet first thing instead of sipping coffee. 

“I need to do some fact-finding and get some supplies. We also need to delay people realizing that we're acting as a unit,” Shōta explained. 

Seeing the others nod along, he went on. 

“What I think we should do is this. Hizashi, you go back to UA as usual. Naoki-kun, you go over the investigation so far with Izuku-kun. Stay here, inside. Share & combine our information. Let people wonder where Izuku-kun went.”

“When you say ‘supplies,’ you mean seeing Kimura?” Naoki asked.

Shōta nodded. “Izuku-kun will need a secured phone and a communicator. And I will probably have to overpurchase so Kimura doesn't get nosy. Is there any other gear we need to replace?”

Naoki shook his head. 

Shōta looked at Izuku. “Let me see your stuff. You definitely need repaired, replaced, or upgraded gear.”

Izuku shook his head. “I can't ask you to do that, Ruse-sa…er, Ruse-sensei.”

“It's a safety issue, kid,” Naoki said, dropping his voice and making it sound like gravel. 

Hizashi snickered. He added, “if you don't, he'll just go overboard instead.”

Izuku nodded. 

“I'll be traveling in a few different prefectures. Naoki, I'm going to take your gear with me & go out in that instead occasionally. People will assume that you and I are traveling together.”

Naoki pouted. “It's gonna be so weird not to have it.”

“Yes. But it'll also save you the temptation to go out when you're supposed to be laying low,” Shōta added. “Izuku-kun, you'll give your gear to Hizashi for the same reason. He'll store it somewhere safe until I get back."

Izuku frowned. “I wouldn't try to go out.”

“You're a stressed out teenage boy that will be getting cabin fever,” Hizashi said kindly. “Keeping that impulse control up is gonna be hard.”

“Some of it is also…” Shōta sighed.

“A safety issue, kid,” Naoki supplied with a sharp smile.

Shōta threw one of the couch pillows at Naoki's head.

Izuku perked up. "Wait, can I make requests?"

"Yeah," Shōta answered, already seeing the rising wave of enthusiasm. "I'd just need you to diagram it out. Is there anything else we urgently need to do or talk through before I get ready to go?”

Naoki cleared his throat. “I have a question.”

Shōta looked at him. “What?”

Naoki leaned forward. “Is your hair naturally pink?”

“No. Anything else?” Shōta crossed his arms. 

“Now I have a lot more questions,” Naoki plowed forward. “Why pink?”

Shōta glared, not that Naoki could see it. “No.”

“It's his favorite color,” Hizashi chimed in.

Izuku started giggling hysterically but tried to muffle it. “Really?”

Shōta growled.

“That brings up my next point,” Hizashi jumped in. “You aren't leaving until you've actually slept. You're at least half-feral right now.”

Shōta huffed and stomped off to the bedroom.

Chapter 18: Revelations

Summary:

“You grew up quirkless…?” Naoki asked.

Izuku lowered his hands but his body stayed tense. “Yeah. Why?”

The older teen gave a small, unsteady smile. “I don't just fight quirkless because that's how I was taught. I am quirkless.”

Shōta tossed a box of tissues at Izuku. Izuku looked down at them in his hands and started sobbing. 

Notes:

Tw: description of physical domestic abuse ending in death. There is enough in-story discussion in the next section for you to get the gist.

If you need to skip it, it's the section right after this: "Shōta wrinkled his nose. All the reports he'd find were very one-sided. He crossed his arms and leaned back."

By the time Shōta woke, the rest of them had come up with arguments for him to wait a few more days. It wasn't too hard to convince him. He had no idea how long he'd have to be gone, and this had come together earlier than he'd expected. He could think it all through more carefully while in a safe place before charging out.

This was also the most peaceful he'd felt in at least 3 months. It was almost certain that Hizashi knew that but was letting Shōta keep that to himself.

His hands suddenly dropped to his lap. For the first time since waking up in Central Hospital, he desperately wanted to stay somewhere and the thought didn't leave him adrift in overwhelm. 

Izuku's laugh drew him back to the present. The teens were creating a complicated timeline on the wall with 2x3 post-its and had just opened the 3rd pack. The event descriptions were getting increasingly odd & meme-laced. Hizashi asked them to put a few explanatory words that Shōta would be able to understand too and they'd let it go. 

Izuku waved to get his attention. “Hey, sensei?”

It sounded just like before. Joy bubbled up. Shōta felt just a touch too warm. “Yes, Izuku-kun?"

Izuku held up a packet about Furuya. “Most of the information you have on the key players is limited to the past year. Do you have information going further back?”

“That was everything I could find on Furuya. She only joined the military about a year ago, and I wasn't able to recover much else,” Shōta explained. “Who else? Are you looking for something in particular?”

Izuku opened a notebook and found the page he was looking for. “I don't know yet. But just looking at a few people that I do know more about…Naoki hadn't seen Eraser for almost 8 years before appearing as Amplitude. His persona choice only makes sense if you go further back. Eraser can be kind of abrasive to his students, and he expels a lot of them.”

Shōta leaned forward to avoid stiffening suspiciously.

“But he lost one of his best friends 14 years ago on a hero work study. He just wants his students to be safe.”

Hizashi was bent down to place a plate of snacks. His voice was quiet, but its vibration was intense. “I didn't know that he told you about Oboro.”

Shōta stood and put a steadying hand on Hizashi's back. The man straightened a bit robotically.

Izuku startled and looked up from the notebook. “I th-thought you were s-still in the kitchen, Mic-sensei, I'm s-so s-s-sorry!”

“It's okay, kiddo, I was just…surprised. It reminds me how different your class is. Shō doesn't usually talk about Oboro…to anybody.” Hizashi smiled sadly and leaned into Shōta. “And it's Hizashi here, remember?”

Izuku nodded quickly. “S-sorry Hizashi.”

“Keep talkin’, kid.” Shōta said softly, rubbing Hizashi's back with his thumb.

Hizashi looked at Shōta and tilted his head in question. Shōta nodded.

“Oh. Uh,” Izuku began. “Right. Sometimes when I panic, I forget to use my quirk even though it's powerful. That only makes sense if you knew that I didn't develop a quirk until the UA entrance exam.”

Shōta looked at Naoki, whose pupils were blown wide. “Naoki! You're forgetting to breathe, kid.”

Naoki's eyes slid to Shōta and he took a very intentional-looking, small breath.

Izuku's fingers buried into his curls. “How am I managing to upset everyone right now?!”

“You grew up quirkless…?” Naoki asked.

Izuku lowered his hands but his body stayed tense. “Yeah. Why?”

The older teen gave a small, unsteady smile. “I don't just fight quirkless because that's how I was taught. I am quirkless.”

Shōta tossed a box of tissues at Izuku. Izuku looked down at them in his hands and started sobbing. 

Naoki released a watery laugh.

Shōta sighed, not wanting to break the moment they were having. “I think you should tell them about your quirk before I go, Izuku. They need to know what you're up against.”

---

What I Know

The hallway, March 21

Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain

• Hotta Brothers & Tokyo Times, April 1
• Multiple news articles, April 2
• Visited haka and family home, April 3

Eri is my daughter

• Hospital, March 24
• Located adoption record, April 22
• Kidnapping & case files, April 26

Secondary quirk strengthened

• Froze knives, May 3
• Stopped rubble, May 6
• Playground swings, May 7

I'm in love with Hizashi

• First kiss, March 27
• Tokyo, April 14
• Beach & Healing, 5/4-5/9

O4A

• Yagi, May 8
• Tsuki, May 17
• IM, June 4

---

The timeline on the wall now stretched around the room, over 2 walls. 

Hizashi had left for UA earlier that morning. Shōta was pretending to read a report while the two teens talked.

“Aizawa-sensei started at UA 7 years ago,” Izuku said, sticking the post-it to the wall. 

“Right,” Naoki said. “And we know that he started in Naruhata 12 years ago. Started as a student at UA 15 years ago.”

“Do we know anything from before that?” Izuku asked.

Naoki frowned. “At some point I learned that he grew up 3 blocks from where I lived, but he already moved away before UA. And when one of the kids got swept up by the cops after this big brawl, he gave this scary talk about what it was like to live in juvie.”

Shōta turned the page to keep up the illusion that he was reading.

Izuku looked horrified. “That had to be one of his ‘rational deceptions’, right?”

Naoki shrugged. “It felt pretty real, but who knows.”

They both looked at him. He didn't react, just underlined something on the sheet he was holding.

“Ruse-sensei?” Naoki ventured.

“Hmm?” 

“Do you know more about Eraser, from before UA?” Naoki asked.

Shōta shifted to look at Naoki. “Like what?”

“You weren't listening?” Izuku asked doubtfully.

“I was,” Shōta admitted. 

Izuku grinned, proud of himself for noticing. “Ha! So did he get sent to juvie, or was he just trying to scare the kids into staying out of trouble?”

Shōta put down the papers and tilted his head to the side to crack his neck. “6 months, and then the charges were dismissed.”

Izuku's mouth fell open. “How old was he?”

Shōta tilted his head the other direction too. “12. It's not relevant to what we're working on.”

Naoki stared. “You're seriously going to just drop it there?”

“The charges were dropped,” Shōta said flatly.

“It just seems like it would be pretty…formative?” Izuku suggested.

That was an understatement. 

“If I don't tell you, you're going to try to find out anyway, aren't you?”

Izuku grinned and shrugged. “Probably.”

Shōta wrinkled his nose. All the reports he'd find were very one-sided. He crossed his arms and leaned back. 

---

The apartment had gone quiet. Shōta pressed his ear to the door to make sure before venturing out. Hopefully Dad didn’t throw anything that would block the closet door from opening.

He slowly opened the door, just enough to look towards the living room. The lights were on but cast at the wrong angles. The yelling and banging had stopped, so it was time to help Mama. 

He had to shove the door a little to open it enough. He squeezed out and padded slowly down the hall, stopping every few seconds to listen. By the time he'd snuck behind the couch, he'd been holding his breath so much that he was a little dizzy. He stopped to listen one more time, and to take a few deep breaths.

He crawled around the side of the couch and froze. Mama was lying on the floor, totally still. His fingertips rested just inside the puddle stretching out from underneath her head. Her dark hair floated in the red liquid.

He opened his mouth to scream, but suddenly his mouth was held shut without any touch at all. He was hanging, limp, a few feet off the ground. 

“I knew you'd come out eventually,” Dad growled at him.

He felt himself separate. Some other part of him was watching now. Deciding now. Doing now. 

The next thing he remembered, Shōta was in an interrogation room with a police officer. They were yelling at him about his villain's quirk killing his parents. He looked down at himself and realized he was covered in blood.

---

“How would Eraser kill his dad with Erasure?” Naoki asked.

Izuku was quiet and looking at the floor. “Secondary telekinesis quirk. It's why his hair and his scarf float.”

“Yes.” Shōta's jaw tightened.

“I didn't think it was strong enough to do anything…big.” Izuku continued.

Shōta sighed. “Have you heard of hysterical strength?”

Naoki spoke up. “You mean like a mom lifting a car that's crushing her child?”

Izuku looked up, tears flowing down his cheeks. “He saw his mom. Plus he knew what his dad was going to do next.”

Shōta nodded and stood. “Like I said, not related to the kidnapping.”

Izuku hugged him. 

Shōta stopped and swallowed hard. “Uh…you okay, kid?”

Izuku hugged tighter for a second before stepping back. He sniffled and wiped his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Sure…” After a pause, Shōta walked into the kitchen to get a little distance between them.

---

Stoat: What have you done with my student?

Ruse: I don't know what you're talking about.

Stoat: Midoriya Izuku hasn't been seen in 2 days.

Ruse: You mean the kid that was constantly being attacked by villains?

Stoat: Also the boy that you were trying to manipulate.

Ruse: I wasn't trying to manipulate him. I was trying to help him.

Stoat: Give him back.

Ruse: Still forgetting that you don't own people?

Stoat: I care for the child.

Ruse: I'm sure he's around somewhere. He's a smart kid.

Stoat: It almost sounds like you're trying to reassure me, Ruse-san.

Ruse: Oh, fuck off, Stoat. Don't you have a surveillance state to manage?

---

Shōta stood at the door with his bags over his shoulder. “I'll check back as often as I can.”

Izuku nodded. “We'll be ready when you get back.”

Hizashi released a shaky exhale. “Stay safe, ya dig?”

“Yeah,” Naoki agreed. “I'd still rather you didn't die.”

Shōta chuckled. “Feeling's mutual. Don't do anything stupid.”

Naoki raised an eyebrow. “You're gonna say a real goodbye to your ‘roommate', right?” 

“Partner!” Hizashi corrected. 

Naoki rolled his eyes. “Whatever, partner. We're not little kids. And we've…seen it before.”

Izuku giggled.

Shōta tapped on the visor.

Naoki and Izuku exchanged a glance. Then Izuku stood up straighter.

“I figured it out,” Izuku said firmly. “I knew when I was reading your case notes. I recognized the way that you write my name.”

Shōta lowered the bags from his shoulder. “And did you discuss your suspicions?”

“Yeah, we did,” Naoki said more hesitantly than the other teen. "Got pretty obvious once we knew what we were looking for."

Izuku nodded. "Ruse, for 'logical ruse.' Right, Aizawa-sensei?"

Shōta pulled off the helmet & liner with a grin. “Well done, Problem Children.”

Then he stepped past them, back toward the living room.

Izuku turned on his heel. “Wait…what?”

“I wasn't really planning to leave today,” Shōta called over his shoulder. “I just wanted the two of you to spit it out so I could have a couple days where you weren't needling me with questions.”

Hizashi stared after him. “What the fuck, Shō!”

Chapter 19: Before I Go

Summary:

Izuku perked up immediately. “I wanted to talk to you before everybody else was awake.”

“Mmm?”

“Right,” Izuku said. “So you made All Might crash his car.”

Shōta grinned, all sharp edges. “Hell yeah, I did.”

Notes:

Here, have some mushy feelings.

Naoki wiggled out from his place on the couch, between Izuku and Hizashi. The older teen went into the kitchen looking for Shōta. 

“Hey old man,” Naoki said, poking him in the arm. “You good?”

Shōta was leaning on the counter with both hands. “Yeah…I think so.”

Naoki frowned. “Suuuure.”

Shōta pressed his lips together thoughtfully. 

“You're used to hiding out in that helmet,” Naoki pointed out.

“Maybe,” Shōta answered. “I also just kind of…suck at…words.”

Naoki leaned his back against the counter. “I'll take good care of the Broccoli, sensei. And the shrieky one.”

Shōta laughed. “I know you will.”

“So what then?” Naoki asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I wanted to tell you something before I go,” Shōta said, pushing away from the counter.

Naoki wrinkled his nose. “That's not ominous at all.”

“I'm glad that we met that day in Mita-san's shop,” Shōta said, glancing at him quickly before looking away again. “You turned out to be a pretty good Baby Eraser.”

“Oh,” Naoki said, relaxing. “You think?”

“I do,” Shōta nodded. “I'm…”

“What?”

“Can it,” Shōta said, giving him a playful shove. “It takes me a minute, sometimes. When I really…mean something.”

Naoki mimed locking his lips closed.

Shōta sighed and looked away. “I'm proud of you, kid. Really proud of you.”

Naoki didn't immediately react.

Shōta waved his hand dismissively. “Okay, I made it weird.”

“You wanna hear something sad?” Naoki said quietly. “Nobody's ever said that to me before.” 

“What?” Shōta said, turning to fully face Naoki. “No.”

Naoki shrugged. “Guess we're both a little messed up, sensei.”

That statement hung in the air for a few fragile seconds.

“Well I guess I should get less weird about saying it then,” Shōta said with a grimace. 

Naoki snorted.

Shōta held his arms open and Naoki hesitated before stepping forward into the hug.

---

Shōta was face down at the table with his hand wrapped around a mostly empty cup of coffee. He heard shuffling but couldn't make himself wake up enough to care.

He did lift his head slightly at the sound of pouring. Izuku gave a small smile and put the entire carafe down on a pot holder.

“Mmmpf.”

Izuku nodded, then took a drink of his tea.

Shōta pushed himself onto one elbow and squinted at Izuku. The kid had learned well from homeroom. He just waited. 

Once Shōta drank ⅔ of the cup of coffee, he refilled it and leaned back in the chair. “Need something?”

Izuku perked up immediately. “I wanted to talk to you before everybody else was awake.” 

“Mmm?”

“Right,” Izuku said. “So you made All Might crash his car.”

Shōta grinned, all sharp edges. “Hell yeah, I did.”

Izuku laughed nervously. “Um. Yeah.”

“You're asking me why?”

Izuku nodded.

“Okay. I'm not awake enough to have a filter.” Shōta drained the rest of the coffee cup and rubbed his face. “Also, I see what you've had to become in the last few months. So I'm going to talk to you like you're a hero in your own right, not a kid.”

The teen paled, a little intimidated by that. 

“You and Eri had been missing for 12 days already,” Shōta said. “Nobody was saying anything. But Yagi Toshinori left UA every night looking for you. Do you know why?”

Izuku bit his lip. “He was worried about me?”

“He felt guilty,” Shōta corrected. “I'm not saying he doesn't care about you, kid. He does. It's the reason he ultimately told me about the quirk. But he could have gotten so many more people to help him. He could have told people why you blamed yourself, who you were running from, and why. He could have explained why it was so important to find you. But he didn't do any of that.”

“Oh,” Izuku said shakily. “Did you tell him to stop going out after that?”

Shōta scratched his cheek. “No, Izuku. I don't know if that was his decision, or if it was Nezu's. But what I can tell you is that if it were me and Nezu tried to stop me, I wouldn't have listened.”

Izuku's lips pressed together and he sniffled. 

“I thought for a long time about what I'd tell you when we got to talk,” Shōta continued. “I don't think you did anything wrong, at all. Yagi put a lot of pressure on you from the beginning. Those power dynamics were nightmarish, so how could you say no? And you've just kept trying your best anyway.”

Izuku looked up at him, eyes bright. 

“He picked the right kid. He just…” Shōta paused to clear his throat. “He just didn't do much else right after that.”

“Th-thanks,” Izuku said with a watery smile. “For looking for me and…and I guess for making All Might crash?”

Shōta smirked. “Sure thing, kid. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.”

They were quiet for a few minutes when Izuku looked back up with that determined glint in his eye. “Hey, sensei?”

Shōta refilled his coffee cup. “Yeah?”

“We're gonna find Eri,” Izuku said firmly. “And if we have to, we'll help her remember how to smile again.”

“Goddamn, kid…” Shōta swallowed hard and lay his head back down on the table. “I know we will. But goddamn.”

Izuku moved chairs to sit right next to him but didn't speak. 

---

Hizashi squawked when he walked into the kitchen around dinnertime. “Shō, babe, your hair!”

He turned to look at Hizashi. “Go clean up from patrol and I'll let you braid it after dinner.”

Hizashi ran his fingers through the long, light gray strands. “Is it actually yours?”

Shōta smiled. “Yeah, I found someone with a hair growth quirk. And with this shade, I'll be able to change the color more easily with temporary dyes.”

“Smart,” Hizashi said distractedly, twisting a strand around his finger.

“You are…really into this,” Shōta observed with a slow smile.

“I've always loved your hair, Shō-chan,” Hizashi purred.

Shōta chuckled. “Get out. Take a shower.”

“Fiiiiiiiiine,” Hizashi pouted, kicking his boots off and letting them thud loudly against the genkan wall. 

By the time Hizashi reappeared with a bag, the teens had settled onto the couch and started a movie. Hizashi put the bag on the table and pulled a chair out. Shōta happily moved to the other seat when beckoned. Just the feeling of Hizashi finger-brushing his hair almost put Shōta to sleep. 

“Feel more like yourself?” Hizashi asked, quiet enough to not disrupt the movie playing across the room.

Shōta nodded. “For now.”

Hizashi parted a tiny section and started to plait. “You're afraid of ‘losing real.’”

Shōta didn't answer. 

“Do you want to tell me what that means for you?” Hizashi asked, tying off the braid and starting another.

“Sometimes it's like I can't believe what I think I know. Or what's happening around me. Like there's no way to truly know anything,” Shōta said, playing with one of the hair bands. “It was…really bad before. At the hospital.”

It took him so long to put all that into words, and he was pulling on the hair band so roughly, that the thing broke. He grumbled and tossed it onto the table. 

Hizashi handed him another and returned to carding his fingers through Shōta's hair. “Do you know what helps?”

“You do.” Shōta tilted his head back to look at Hizashi. “Every time. It's always you. It's why I found you before, in Rappongi.”

“I know you won't just stay here. And even in the most normal times, it wouldn't be healthy to trap yourself like that,” Hizashi replied with a gentle smile. “But you can always call. Or come home. Or tell me where you are, and I'll know to come get you.” 

Shōta gazed up at him quietly, soaking up the moment. 

“I love you so much, Sunshine.”

“I love you, Kitten.”

---

There wasn't much left unsaid by the time everyone went to bed that night. So rather than putting everyone through painful goodbyes, Shōta just waited until everyone was asleep. He gathered his bags and slipped out of the apartment.

Chapter 20: Wrinkles

Summary:

Amp: u also forgot bye b4 u left

Ruse: We both know I didn't forget.

Amp: wtf sensei

Ruse: I'm sorry.

Amp: now ur being all /gen & shit

Amp: just wanna be mad @ u

Shōta walked from the helipad to the oversized elevator and pressed the call button. Not even glimpses of memory had returned from when he'd last arrived at Central Hospital. Maybe there were too many differences. He was healthy, and upright. No helicopter sounds. It was dark and drizzly, where March 21 had been bright and dry. 

He stepped inside when the elevator car arrived. It smelled strongly of disinfectant, but otherwise looked & felt like any other elevator. He examined the bank of buttons. 3 had a star beside it. Maybe their acute trauma department? 

He'd been so afraid that memories would come back too easily. Too quickly. Too vividly. Now he was irritated that it was taking too much, assuming it worked at all.

Shōta grabbed the fire extinguisher from just outside the elevator doors. He positioned it in the way of the safety sensor so the doors wouldn't close on him. He couldn't afford to be any more vulnerable than he was about to make himself.

He considered how a gurney would be positioned in the space. Shōta sat on the floor, closed his eyes, and lay back. This should give him a similar view to that day. He took a deep breath and forced his left eye open. 

The elevator doors closed, and Furuya leaned down to look at him intently. “Nagamine Eri,” Furuya said.

His eye focused on her. 

“I remember you from the news. You were part of getting her away from The Eight Precepts. From Kai.” Her eyes were wide. And red. 

He could barely hold her gaze, but he tried. 

Furuya took that as confirmation. “You said ‘my Eri’ before, so you're taking care of her?”

He tried to answer but couldn't make a sound.

“Is she…happy?”

Thinking of Eri. Her smile. That smile that made it easy for him to do what was necessary. His own lips gave an attempt at a smile.

“Right,” she said, hitting the 5 button. “I'm supposed to just leave you somewhere. But…she's been through so much because of me. I can't make her lose someone else.”

She lay her hand over his chest. “I can't help much. We don't have enough time.”

Golden light emanated from under her helmet. It wrapped around her arm and flowed down into his chest in warm waves. He felt a little less drowsy, but he could also register a lot more pain without the haze. 

He looked into her eyes and rasped, “not Eri. Ariko.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I'll make sure they can find you. Take good care of our girl, Eraser.”

The elevator door opened. Furuya Eri Nagamine Ariko pushed the gurney out into the hallway.

The elevator door kept trying to close, beeping in error, and trying again. He lay on the floor, looking up at the bright fluorescent lights. 

He took his phone out of his pocket. 

Ruse: Send me the photo of Furuya from her military file?

Amp: [image.jpg]

Shōta zoomed in. Her eyes were brown in the photograph. Contacts, or maybe the photo was edited? There wasn't any other resemblance. Maybe Eri took most of her looks from her father's side. He'd have to find a photograph of him.

He dropped his hands back to his sides and tried to think how the information fit. 

His thinking was interrupted by another new message.

Amp: hi btw

Ruse: Hey kid.

Amp: u also forgot bye b4 u left

Ruse: We both know I didn't forget. 

Amp: wtf sensei

Ruse: I'm sorry. 

Amp: now ur being all /gen & shit

Amp: just wanna be mad @ u

Ruse: I'm going to send you more on Furuya soon.

Amp: When?

Ruse: I don't know. Soon.

---

The wind whipped Shōta's hair across his face. He pulled it up into the high ponytail that Naoki usually wore on patrol, then replaced the orange goggles. After nearly 3 months as Ruse, (sort of) being Eraserhead again felt odd. It was like wearing someone else's shoes. The broken-in spots didn't match up. 

He rested his hand on the capture scarf and scanned the Naruhata streets below. 

“Oi! Amplitude!” a teenage girl yelled.

Shōta stood and looked around her. Nothing concerning.

She waved and smiled. “Glad you're back! Michi was starting to think he could get away with his usual again!”

He waved back, doing his best to imitate Naoki's energy. He'd have to ask Naoki who Michi was. He'd have to do something, but this whole act only worked silently and at a distance. Maybe Ruse could step in instead.

He moved through another active pedestrian area of Naruhata quickly, hoping that that would make him sufficiently visible. When he was backlit enough, he let a few people take photos of him posing with his fingers in a victory “v.”

Then he swung into the familiar and relatively abandoned Sanya. He had planned to do much more that night but crashed as soon as he got to his current hideaway. He had a few more days in Tokyo to figure it out. 

---

Shōta stepped into Kimura's place in Saitama wearing street clothes. It was late and the place was near capacity. Kimura was already speaking with someone, so he found his way to the bar.

Yoko shrieked and jumped halfway onto the bar to hug him. “Okino-san!”

“You have one hell of a memory, Yoko-san,” he replied, returning the hug with one hand low on her back. “You've only seen my face once.”

She let herself slide back onto her feet and popped her gum. “Oh, sugar, you never forget a man who looks at you like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Give us a spin then?”

“Mmm…what do I get?”

“What do you want?”

“Hmm.” She leaned forward onto the bartop. 

His eyes flicked down, then back up. 

She giggled and tapped her cheek with a long fingernail. Shōta leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek and lingered close. 

Yoko held him there by his shirt and whispered. “Ultraviolet was furious when they came back from Shizuoka. Kimura hasn't been right since.” 

She released him and winked. “You should meet my friend, Okino! She'd just love you.”

“I don't know if I can handle another Yoko-san,” he answered, holding her gaze. 

“She can't hold a candle to yours truly, but I think you'll like her. Smart, loyal, dependable. And good. She likes more heroic types,” Yoko said, writing on a napkin. 

Shōta watched her face carefully. “She won't kiss and tell, will she?”

“Never, but now I'm a little nervous about just what you've got in mind, Okino-san,” Yoko said with a pout. “You better treat her nice, or I'll come to Shizuoka to teach you a lesson all by myself.”

“Only the best for you and your friends, Yoko-san,” he said, taking the napkin and kissing her cheek one more time. “Gotta go.”

She twirled a strand of her golden hair around her finger. “Kimura-san will be sad to have missed you. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to catch up to you.”

Shōta nodded. “Tell him I said hello and goodbye, yeah?”

Yoko nodded and gave a little wave.

He walked directly to Lake Sai.

Ruse: You said pepperoni pizza, right?

Hopefully Naoki would remember that code, or ask Hizashi. As soon as the message was confirmed as sent, he threw his phone into the water.

Chapter 21: Wreckage

Summary:

Hitomi grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks so hard his lips puckered. and very solemnly said, “You. You are my new favorite, Kata-kun.”

“Hey!” Yoko pouted.

Hitomi straightened up and let him go. “After my lady love, of course!”

He walked to a payphone and dialed the only number he'd ever bothered to memorize. 

“You're on the line with Present Mic, yo! Tell me somethin’ good!”

“Did Naoki destroy the phone?”

“Right away, my friend! Too much for ya or somethin’?”

Shōta had hoped Hizashi would be alone, but no such luck apparently. “Kimura's compromised. Yoko warned me.”

“Whoaaaaaa there!” Hizashi exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Shōta said tiredly. “Trashed all the tech except my helmet. Make sure Naoki does the same with anything else he might have. I'll call back again soon.”

He hung up quickly. The rat could be listening or tracking. Just in case, he hopped on the train back to Tokyo. 

---

It was much easier to find information about the daughter of a past yakuza boss and a socialite than a random naval ensign. Especially when the latter was a false identity. 

He quickly found a photo of Nagamine Yoshiro and his young family. Eri looked just like her father, except for her mother's glistening red eyes. The three of them looked so happy. 

Shōta scooted himself back into a corner of his sleeping space and hugged his legs to his chest.

Eri killed Yoshiro. She had killed her father with her quirk. Shōta had killed his father with his quirk too, but his family had never been that happy. 

Eri had done it on accident. Shōta couldn't remember if it was an accident or if he had done it on purpose. He had always told himself that it didn't matter to him. It suddenly mattered to him. A lot.

Eri had been destroyed by what she'd done. Shōta thought he should probably feel guiltier. 

He thought of the times that his father would disappear for weeks at a time, and his mother could actually let herself be happy for a little while. That had ended so--

Eri's mother was alive, though. She'd been at the press conference. 

She could have found out that he hadn't gone straight back to UA. She could have decided that she shouldn't have helped him. She could have decided to take her daughter back. 

And what if Eri was happier, back with her mother? Ariko obviously loved her little girl, back then and when she risked helping him at Central. 

If his mother could have reappeared, wouldn't he have given up everything to go back to that shabby apartment? Even if it meant going back to all of its most horrible parts?

The cement wall held him up, the coolness in contrast to the tears that had started to fall at some point. He tried to hold off the thought but it rushed in anyway. 

He wasn't a good enough father. He should stop looking for Eri.

---

Exhausted. Hungry. Dehydrated. He hadn't moved in…a while. At least a day.

He kept telling himself that he was assuming the worst about Eri & Ariko. That he was being needlessly cruel to himself. That this was exactly why his mind had walled off the information. He couldn't make himself believe it.

Midoriya, though. He knew Midoriya was still in danger, and he'd promised to do better for him. Maybe he could make up for everything else if he could make things even a little easier for Midoriya.

That was the only thing that got him to knock on the door. It opened the smallest amount. A cocoa brown arm reached out and dragged him inside.

The door slammed behind him. The woman had darker skin and a full head of naturally curly orange hair, but there was no doubt about who she was. Her hands were on her hips, coveralls tied around her waist, and her pupils shifted like a camera lens. 

“Hatsume Hitome?”

“Okino-kun!” she crowed. “Come in. My Yoko is excited to see you! Aren't you so glad that she got away from that bar?”

Definitely related to Hatsume Mei somehow.

Yoko was sitting in the workshop, tinkering with a miniature robot, but she looked up as soon as he entered. She smiled warmly and looked much more comfortable. In her element.

He smiled despite himself. “Hello, Yoko-san.”

She waved her hand, “Just Yoko. We don't have to keep up that nonsense here.”

“Okay, Just Yoko,” he said with a bow of his head. “Katashi then. Or Kata.”

Hitomi pushed him bodily onto a stool in front of Yoko. “So let's talk about–”

Yoko laughed. “Hito-chan, pleasantries. What do you want him to call you? Small talk. I'll get tea.”

Hitomi groaned. “But that's not interesting, Yoko-chan!”

“I know,” Yoko said, kissing her head before moving to a side table set up for tea service - probably to avoid leaving the workshop.

Hitomi flopped down on the stool next to him. Her voice was dull and robotic when she spoke again. “My name is Hatsume Hitomi, I'm a freelance support designer. Tell me about you?”

“Um. Okino Katashi. I've lived in Tokyo and Shizuoka,” Shōta said, shocked into hesitance by the sudden shift in demeanor. “I also hate this part.”

“And who else are you, Kata?” Yoko called.

His eyes went wide and his muscles tensed. Ready to get out however necessary. “What do you mean?”

Yoko turned and leaned against the beverage cart. “He's jumpy today. And he's Ruse.”

Hitomi jumped up screaming. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “Where is it? Did you bring my little masterpiece?”

Shōta almost had a heart attack. He probably would have if he didn't know Mei. He pushed her away. “Wh-what?”

“She fabricated your suit,” Yoko explained, bringing over the tea now as things calmed. “All the little extras in your helmet were because she couldn't help herself.”

“Oh,” Shōta said, willing his heart to beat a little slower. Yoko was right. He was jumpy. And now he was also light-headed from all the jostling. He really needed to eat something.

Hitomi leaned into his face. “Who made the schematics that jerkface gave me?”

Yoko mouthed, “Kimura.”

He braced himself. “I did.”

Yoko looked mildly surprised.

Hitomi grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks so hard his lips puckered. She very solemnly said, “You. You are my new favorite, Kata-kun.”

“Hey!” Yoko pouted.

Hitomi straightened up and let him go. “After my lady love, of course!”

Shōta wasn't a tea drinker but this whole exchange had him craving the calming practice. He hunched his shoulders as if he could hide in his capture scarf and held the cup with both hands.

Yoko shook her head and pushed a bag over to him. “The tech you ordered from Kimura, plus all the basics that you should have nuked after we talked. Replicating the helmet will take longer.”

“Wow,” he said, looking down at the bag. “You already had these made, but hadn't delivered to Kimura?”

“JERKFACE!” Hitomi howled.

Yoko laughed and shook her head. “Yes. I was hoping I'd see you first. You did nuke all the tech that passed through his hands, right?”

“Except the helmet,” Shōta confirmed.

Hitomi flopped over the table in relief, nearly knocking over her own tea cup. “Thank goodness my masterpiece is safe.”

“Why didn't you toast that too?” Yoko asked skeptically.

“Oh, after the meeting with Ultraviolet, I knew something was off. Power Loader inspected it for me. He took care of the extra sensor she'd installed,” he explained.

Hitomi grabbed his hand. “You know Power Loader. Do you know other people at UA?”

He nodded a little hesitantly. 

Hitomi's words tumbled out rapidly. “My niece is there, but we haven't heard from her. She's probably just working too hard. She does that sometimes. Terrible habit. But…”

“I can pass a message. Maybe something small,” Shōta offered. 

“FAVORITE!” Hitomi immediately scrambled away to a drafting table and started mumbling to herself while she sketched.

Shōta looked at Yoko, who was leaning onto the table with her chin in her hand. She was watching Hitomi's every move.

A few seconds later, Yoko returned her gaze to him and patted his hand. “I could tell you were a good man, Kata. Wandering eyes aside.” 

“Yoko, I understand the need to hide in plain sight,” he answered with a small, genuine smile.

Her smile widened, crinkling the corners of her eyes just slightly. “Ah, I see. So we can let go of that silly dance?”

Shōta nodded. 

Yoko spat out her bubble gum in a napkin and threw it into the trash. She settled back onto her stool and poured herself some tea. She took a deep inhale, and exhaled slowly.

Meanwhile, he finally looked inside the bag. He was so relieved at the sight of the secured phones. Their conversation was reminding him just how much he needed to be able to talk to Hizashi.

“Also, I'm glad you're not a woman,” Yoko said once her teacup was empty, stretching and reaching for her earlier project. “Otherwise, I'd be nervous about how much our ‘shared experience’ would increase your ‘new favorite’ status.”

His smile softened, a little weary as everything caught up to him. “Even if I was, I get the sense that you wouldn't need to worry. Seems like she knows what she likes and claims it.”

Yoko looked up at him over the top of magnifying lenses. “I liked you before, Kata, but I like this you even better.”

Shōta looked into his now-cold tea and wished he could say the same.

Chapter 22: In the Box

Summary:

“New phase,” Shōta mumbled. “Got things.”

“Sensei only has 2 speeds…’total crashout’ and ‘fuck you in particular’,” Naoki said, grinning as he put down a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Oh, that's nothing new. We used to call him Energy Saver in high school,” Hizashi laughed.

“You should have seen what class was like, Naoki,” Izuku added. “I learned a lot but it was also kind of terrifying all the time.”

“So glad to be back,” Shōta said flatly. 

“Hey, sleepy peepers,” Hizashi teased, scratching Shōta's back. “This is not a bed.”

Shōta reached blindly for Hizashi with one arm. 

Hizashi moved a little closer, pulling on Shōta's arm. “Come on, up.”

Instead of being pulled up by Hizashi, he pulled Hizashi to him. He leaned heavily into the other man's stomach. 

“What are you, part sloth?” Hizashi grumbled without any heat. 

Warm. Comfortable. Safe. 

Shōta pushed himself to a sitting position just as he pushed away the feeling. Otherwise that feeling could settle in and weight him to the floor. Shōta rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand.

“New phase,” Shōta mumbled. “Got things.”

“Sensei only has 2 speeds…’total crashout’ and ‘fuck you in particular’,” Naoki said, grinning as he put down a cup of coffee in front of him. 

“Oh, that's nothing new. We used to call him Energy Saver in high school,” Hizashi laughed. 

“You should have seen what class was like, Naoki,” Izuku added. “I learned a lot but it was also kind of terrifying all the time.”

“So glad to be back,” Shōta said flatly. 

“Can't fool me, cuddly lobster,” Naoki said confidently.

“Cuddly…lobster…oh!” Izuku laughed. “I get it. That's good.”

“Naoki, do not ever tell the Hottas that Izuku liked that joke or it will never die,” Shōta said, standing to grab the bag from Hitomi & Yoko.

Hizashi peeked into the bag. “I thought Kimura was compromised.” 

“I was able to connect directly with the team that had already been fabricating our gear. Hizashi, please find a way to get this to Hatsume Mei as a favor to them.” Shōta sat back down and slid over a 2 inch cube. “No, I don't know what's in it.”

Hizashi examined the box, frowning. “You want me to deliver a random cube of who knows what to a student inside UA?”

“Yes,” Shōta said simply.

Izuku could tell there was something more. He was pressing his lips together to hold in a laugh at Hizashi's increasing alarm. 

Shōta added, “it's from her Aunt Hitomi.”

“I should really just always assume you're at least 10% full of it,” Hizashi whined. 

“Up the percentage,” Naoki said seriously. 

“These comms are linked and encrypted,” Shōta continued, giving each a small box. “They're in sets. One should always be charging. They link up to satellites, so we could hypothetically use them even if we're in different prefectures.”

Izuku pulled one and was studying it carefully. His face looked like a kid in a toy store. “Do they only have one channel?”

“Multiple. I know they're cool, but do not take them apart, Problem Child,” Shōta said pointedly. 

Naoki snickered and poked Izuku in the ribs.

“Regular communications with these, though. Also fully secured. Do not junk it up with stupid games filled with hackable back doors, other Problem Child,” Shōta said with an eyebrow raised at Naoki as he gave each a phone. 

The older teen grumbled and it was Izuku's turn to laugh.

“Getting these were the second half of the trip, right?” Hizashi asked. “What was the first part?”

“I went back to Central Hospital,” Shōta answered. 

Hizashi pursed his lips. “And how are you feeling?”

Naoki and Izuku both stopped. He could feel them watching him.

“I'm…not. Not right now.” Shōta scratched at a discoloration in the table.”I lost 2 days. I had to put it all away to come back.”

Naoki looked from Hizashi to Shōta. “The text about Furuya?”

Shōta looked at Izuku. “Do your thing finding & analyzing information. Her real name is Nagamine Ariko. She's Eri's mother.”

Izuku nodded his head rapidly. “Okay.”

“She might have escaped a bad situation and managed to take Eri with her,” Shōta explained. “It's more likely that she's stuck alongside Eri, or that she got killed for helping me instead of letting me die.”

Naoki stared through the table. “If they're stuck together, at least they're together…?”

“That's a good point, little listener,” Hizashi said softly.

Shōta stood, then paused. “And Izuku? Think of something to call yourself other than Deku. I know where it came from now. If I have to say it even one more time, I might undo Bakugo's whole character building arc.”

“Even justified murder is murder, sensei,” Naoki joked before his mind caught up with him. His hand clapped over his mouth. 

Everyone went stock-still.

“I know you were going for some comic relief,” Shōta reasoned indifferently. “But it's still a good thing that all my emotions are locked up in a box.” 

He patted Naoki's head and went out onto the balcony. 

---

“We need to get Izuku back to training, including in wide open spaces,” Shōta said to Hizashi, jotting something down in his notebook. “He will need to be ready whenever All For One, Shigaraki, or their crew resurface.”

“Can we do that in Musutafu without drawing too much attention?” Hizashi asked hesitantly, hanging on Shōta's left arm.

“I need to give it some more thought, but I don't think so.” Shōta shifted his attention back to his laptop screen. “Nezu's been rebuilding his personal panopticon steadily. It only accelerated once he finished vetting everyone inside UA and the sightings of Izuku stopped.”

Hizashi nodded slowly and held a little tighter. “Where would you go?”

“Not sure yet,” Shōta replied briefly.

Hizashi sat up. “Shō, can you let just the snuggles out of the box?”

Shōta looked at Hizashi. “If I crack the lid, it's shut down or separation.”

Hizashi shook his head. “I was so excited that you got home yesterday. But you didn't really, did you?”

“I know that you want more, that you need more.” Shōta clicked the computer shut and closed the notebook. He turned his body to face Hizashi. “This is what it looks like, right now, for me to not leave you.”

Hizashi shook his head and looked down at his tightly clasped hands. 

“I know I'm failing, Hizashi. Please see that I'm trying.”

“I can't decide if this is better or worse,” Hizashi sniffled. “It's like, I can touch you but I still can't reach you.”

The tightly closed up box of emotions was juddering. “I'll let it go. If you want.”

“I can't ask you to suffer for me, Shō-chan,” Hizashi said, wiping his cheeks.

“You're suffering for me instead,” Shōta answered immediately. “Whether I hold on, and you feel like I'm keeping you out…or I let go, and you have to pick up all the pieces of me. I hurt you either way. That's why I usually run.”

Hizashi gave a sad smile. “Being with you when you hurt is hard. But Shōta, that's when I get to sing the song of your heart back to you. When I get to show you what the rest of us see. That isn't making me suffer.”

No amount of thinking could make it make sense to Shōta. The whole argument rested on emotion. The lid of the box strained.

“So you want me to let go?” Shōta asked.

“Yeah, kitten,” Hizashi said softly. “Let go.”

Shōta gave a small, stiff nod. Then he took the lid off the box. 

Chapter 23: Shut Downs and Separations

Summary:

Ruse put his hands on his hips. “What, worried you couldn't take me on your own, Detective?”

Tensei raised an eyebrow. “Was that a swipe at me?”

Ruse turned his head to Tensei. “Not at all. I know who you are, Ingenium. I don't doubt your ability to be effective in a fight.”

Notes:

Last chapter....

Shōta: If I crack the lid, it's shut down or separation.

Ruse: Sounds like quitter talk. Let's do both.

Ruse was waiting on the bench near the door to the apartment building. He sprung up as Naomasa approached.

Naomasa tilted his hat back so he could see better. He stopped on the walkway and waited.

“Lovely evening, isn't it Detective?” 

“It was,” Naomasa said tersely. “You want something from me?”

“Not exactly,” Ruse said. “I want to offer you something.”

Naomasa shook his head. “I'm not interested in anything from you.”

“It's information, Tsukauchi-san, not a bomb.”

“Your information is useless if I don't trust you,” Naomasa pointed out.

“I have proof,” Ruse offered. “You would be able to verify it all yourself.” 

Naomasa frowned. “I don't need you doing my job for me.”

“Actually, it's your boss' job. And they aren't doing it,” Ruse said, pointing at him. “That affects the integrity of your work, and the department as a whole.”

“Why do you care?” Naomasa demanded, more weary than irritated.

Ruse stepped closer, so they were only a few feet apart. “I have a couple reasons. Aside from keeping certain things quiet, I think you're a good person and a good detective. I think you'll do what the information requires of you.”

Naomasa's brows crinkled. “True. And?”

Ruse crossed his arms. “I've been working on this case for a while, and I care about how it turns out. I think this person is disrupting the case from the inside.”

“Also true,” Naomasa said softly, mostly to himself.

“So?” Ruse asked. “Do you want it or not?”

Naomasa nodded slowly. 

Ruse held out a piece of paper with his phone number on it. 

“I don't need this,” Naomasa said, still taking it. “I have your contact information from Nezu. Although he said that you've been ignoring him.”

“Oh, how nice that you two share,” Ruse said curtly. “My number changed. I presume you'll give him the new number regardless of my feelings on the matter. I'll admit that I have missed his frequent accusations.”

Naomasa rubbed his forehead. 

“The lead investigator on the UA kidnapping is affiliated with at least 3 yakuza members and has been receiving suspicious payments to a secondary account,” Ruse said. “I'll give you access to the proof directly, not electronically. If you don't message me by tomorrow night, I'll bring it to the media instead.”

Ruse turned on his heel and moved toward the shadows beside the building.

“Wait!” Naomasa called. “Are you Aizawa Shōta?”

“No, I'm Ruse,” he shouted back over his shoulder. 

Naomasa blinked rapidly in disbelief. “True…”

---

Shōta lay halfway propped up on the couch with one foot on the floor. He'd been awake and on the couch for at least two hours, although he had no idea how that time had passed.

“Shō, I'm cutting fruit!” Hizashi said. “Want some?”

He made some kind of noise back. Even he wasn't sure if it was in agreement or not. They both knew Hizashi would try to give him some anyway.

Shōta's phone lit up and he was reflexively annoyed. Still, there were very few people who had the number, and only for very specific reasons. He groaned and rolled over to pick it up. Even then he let it sit on his chest until it buzzed another two times. 

Unknown: Ruse-san, thank you for approaching me and for entrusting me with your findings. 

Unknown: I look forward to confirming your information. I will act promptly for the benefit of the case and for the integrity of my department. 

Unknown: Please let me know when and where you would like to meet.

Shōta reread the messages a few times. Findings. Case. Department. What the hell was he not remembering?

Hizashi put a plate down next to Shōta.“Is that Tsuki?”

“Huh?” Shōta asked, looking at Hizashi for a second before his eyes focused. 

“The phone. You said it went well with Tsuki last night,” Hizashi said, sitting down with his own plate.

“Oh,” Shōta looked back down at the messages. “Yeah. He asked for meeting details.”

Ruse changed Unknown to Hat Man

Ruse: Why do you text like you're writing an email?

Ruse: 9 PM, Dagobah Beach.

Hat Man: Tonight?

Ruse: That a problem, Mr. Act Promptly?

Hat Man: I'll figure it out. 

The phone dropped back to Shōta's chest and his head dropped into the back of the couch. 

Hizashi held the plate right under his nose. Apples. Of course it was apples.

Shōta pushed it away. “Not now.”

“Just one.” Hizashi bargained. 

Shōta shook his head.

Hizashi laid a hand on Shōta's calf. “Shō?”

Shōta buried his face in the back couch cushion. 

“Sensei?” Izuku interrupted a few minutes later. “Sorry, you're both ‘sensei.’ I meant Aizawa-sensei. Er. Shōta. It's just still kinda weird to use your given name. Especially since we'll hopefully get back to school at some point.”

Lifting his head to look at Izuku took monumental effort. 

“Right, so I brought some blueberries instead. Just in case that would help.” Izuku held out the tiny bowl that couldn't have held more than 15 berries. 

This kid would be the death of him. 

“Thanks,” Shōta murmured, taking the bowl and eating a berry.

Naoki looked at Izuku quizzically as the younger teen sat back down at their work area on the table.

Before getting back to work, Izuku explained in a hushed voice. “Eri really likes apples.”

---

Ruse stood on the wide open beach, waiting for Naomasa. 

Ruse: Did the cube delivery turn out as intended?

Yoko: Yes! Hito-chan is so happy. 

Ruse: Good. 

Yoko: She's working on the barrier.

Ruse: That's an interesting tidbit. 

Yoko: Isn't it?

Naomasa's approach was apparent from a distance. Shōta looked up and put the phone away. Naomasa took off his hat as he got closer.

Ruse was surprised to see Tensei at Naomasa's side. The wheelchair's roll didn't even stutter at the transition to the sand. Was it on well-hidden broad wheels, or was it hovering?

Ruse put his hands on his hips. “What, worried you couldn't take me on your own, Detective?”

Tensei raised an eyebrow. “Was that a swipe at me?”

Ruse turned his head to Tensei. “Not at all. I know who you are, Ingenium. I don't doubt your ability to be effective in a fight.”

“Oh,” Tensei said, his trademark bright smile returning to his face. “I did pass on the Ingenium name, though.”

“Seemed premature to me,” Ruse shrugged. “But your choice. What should I call you instead?”

“Iida Tensei,” Tensei answered. 

“No new hero name?” Ruse asked incredulously. “Thought you were a quick thinker too, Iida-san.”

Iida laughed. “I actually hadn't thought about it at all.”

Ruse just looked at him for a long moment. “That's dumb.” Then he turned to Naomasa. “Why is he here, Detective? You didn't tell me you were using a phone-a-friend.”

Naomasa was dragging his hands down the side of his face. 

Ruse crossed his arms. “This is the part where you talk. Why shouldn't I walk away?”

“Iida-san has been helping the department with internal affairs investigations related to the yakuza,” Naomasa explained. “He would be best equipped to ensure that your information is handled ethically and efficiently.”

“You could have included that in your email,” Ruse replied.

“You mean my text message?”

Ruse waved a hand. “Same thing, the way you use it.”

“Right. We're here now. Either give him the information or don't." Naomasa gestured to Tensei. "I thought you'd like to meet him, and that the hand-off would be more above-board if it never touched police hands. I'll give him your number so he can contact you with any questions.”

Ruse dug into his pockets and handed Tensei a safe deposit box key & instructions, plus 2500 yen. “Get him a coffee or something, he's bumming me out.”

Tensei laughed. “Will do. Come on, Tsuki.”

Naomasa put his hat back on as he walked away with Tensei. “I'm a grown man, I can get my own coffee…”

Chapter 24: Song and Dance

“We need to leave soon,” Shōta rumbled. His arm covered his eyes where he lay on the couch. 

Naoki jumped, his knees cracking on the bottom of the table. Shōta snickered at being able to startle him. 

“Mean old man,” Naoki groused. “What did you say?”

“We need to leave soon,” Shōta repeated, hauling himself to a sitting position. “You two need training and experience we can't get here. And every day we stay, even being nearby, we put Hizashi at risk.”

“You waited for him to have to go to UA today to bring it up,” Izuku said slowly, processing. “Do you not want to upset him, or do you not plan to tell him?”

“I've brought it up twice, before…this, “ Shōta answered, gesturing to himself. “It upset him then, so it would definitely upset him more now.”

“But we're going to tell him, and we're going to say a proper ‘goodbye for now.’” Naoki was telling more than he was asking.

“Yes,” Shōta grimaced. “I hoped we could figure out the plan itself together first, instead of me telling you what to do.” 

Naoki stood, walking while he thought. “You two overthink better than me.”

Izuku giggled. “Thanks?”

“Uh, you're welcome?” Naoki said, throwing a balled up piece of paper at Izuku's head. “I'm calling you smart, take a goddamned compliment.”

Izuku batted the paper ball out of the air mindlessly while he turned to a new page in his notebook. “So do we want to start with the parameters we need to meet, or by comparing and contrasting any known options?”

---

Hizashi was playing music. 

Watching Hizashi listen to music had always been unlike watching anyone else do it. It was a full-body, full-face experience. 

Four on the floor animated every muscle. The exhilaration of that movement showed through his eyes. 

Anticipation built in a room when he played dub step. When the beat dropped, it would shatter. His face would relax while his body moved faster.

Acoustics were usually closed-eyed affairs, his body and brows swaying and lifting with the progressions of pitch and rhythm.

Each genre and style had their own manifestations. After so many years, Shōta could probably tell what he was listening to without hearing a note.

The only songs that tended to be muted were the quiet, sentimental songs. His hand might move, gliding up and down the scales. He usually seemed too lost in thought to be lost in the music.

Shōta stood to refill his mug just as one such song was beginning. The abrupt end of Hizashi's movement gnawed at Shōta. It just didn't fit. 

Shōta pushed the coffee table back with his foot and put the mug down on it instead. He took Hizashi's hand and assumed a closed position. Hizashi's other hand moved to Shōta's shoulder. 

Hizashi's hands tightened momentarily as Shōta began to lead him through a waltz. Then Hizashi's tentative smile slowly bloomed, light and energy flooding his face. 

“Shō,” Hizashi whispered, like he was afraid that speaking would break the moment.

“Hmm?” Shōta responded, as though this were an entirely typical moment.

Hizashi moved his hand from Shōta's shoulder, stroking his cheek. “How do you do that?”

“What, Sunshine?”

“You make it seem like these kinds of things…unexpected things…are just obvious.”

“They've always made sense to me, with you.”

Hizashi laughed softly. “Oh yeah? For a man who has a hard time with emotions…”

Shōta made a face. “With saying them. Or hearing them. I think I'm pretty good at doing them.”

“Okay, okay, I'll give you that.”

Shōta halved the formal distance to wrap his arm around Hizashi's waist. 

“Oh!” Hizashi turned pink, not really having meant to say anything. 

“Am I making you antsy, Yamada?” Shōta asked, eyebrow raised.

Hizashi turned pinker. “You're being a tease, Aizawa.”

Pulling Hizashi the rest of the way, their bodies pressing into each other, threw Hizashi off rhythm for a few notes. Shōta smirked.

Hizashi huffed. “You're proud of yourself, aren't you?”

“Mmm.”

“Thought so.”

The song faded and they held still for a few more seconds. 

Shōta kissed Hizashi's cheek and released the blonde to pick up his own mug.

“Bro, that was the part where you're supposed to actually kiss him. Like, on the lips!” Naoki called from the hall as Shōta went into the kitchen.

Izuku was standing awkwardly in the kitchen already, cradling his own mug. “Um.”

“What, Problem Child?” Shōta asked, pouring his coffee. 

Izuku smiled nervously. “I've been kinda trapped in here since that song started?”

He watched the boy with an even expression. “Go then, be free.”

“Um.”

“What?”

“You can dance,” Izuku said. “Like, actually dance. I never would have guessed that…”

“Shouldn't assume. Assumptions can make you vulnerable.” Shōta said tiredly. “To answer your next questions, I started classes when I was 3 and kept it up until the USJ. Good for agility. Now go away.”

Izuku laughed and scrambled out of the room. 

---

Unknown: While Iida-san is reviewing your information, I am reviewing the totality of the compromised investigator’s communications to determine the possible impacts on the investigation. 

Unknown: I don't know why you approached Tsukauchi-san, but thank you.

Unknown: I have great hope that this will assist us in locating my grandpup. 

Ruse changed Unknown to Rat.

Ruse: You know what motivated my actions with Yagi and Tsukauchi. Do you have some other reason to think I'm not a decent person?

Rat: Midoriya-kun is still missing.

Ruse: Exactly. Your judgment is clouded.

Rat: I'm a highly intelligent individual, Ruse-san.

Ruse: You still bit me when you felt threatened. You're not a robot.

–

Rat: I'll consider your words.

---

Mama's dark hair. Floating in the pool.

Bloody sheets. Dripping. The pool growing.

His hands in the pool.

The pool's gone. He's covered in it.

That person across the hallway. Not breathing.

His father at his feet. Not breathing.

Shōta pulled his hands from the water and took a step back. He stared at the stream and tried to dry his hands off on his shirt. They didn't feel dry. 

“Hey, boss?”

He took a sudden deep breath and held it. Why couldn't he get the blood off his hands?

Naoki approached. “I'm gonna reach around to turn off the water, okay?”

Shōta didn't acknowledge him. Naoki turned off the water then stepped slowly into his field of view. He reached for Shōta's hands.

The blood would get on him.

Naoki held on just tightly enough that Shōta would need to put effort into withdrawing, but could.

Naoki squeezed Shōta's hands to get his attention. “Hey, sensei?”

Shōta looked at his face, pupils blown wide and breathing shaky.

Naoki put on a smirk he didn't quite feel. “That dance the other day was a pretty smooth move. Can you teach it to me?”

Shōta's eyes focused on him a little more. 

“I'll count. 6, right?” Naoki asked.

At Shōta's stiff nod, Naoki started counting aloud. On one, Shōta's feet moved. Forward, side, together. Back, side, together.

At first, Naoki watched their feet to follow along. When he looked up again and met Shōta's eyes, the older man stopped.

“We're dancing,” Shōta said, still sounding a little disconnected, but definitely settling. “In the kitchen. In the middle of the night.”

Naoki nodded, dropping his hold on Shōta's hands.

Shōta looked at his hands. Normal. Clean. Dry. Then up at his protégé. “Thank you.”

Naoki patted his shoulder. “Sure thing, boss. Gonna go back to bed…?”

Shōta swallowed, his throat still feeling tight. “Yeah…”

Naoki filled the cup that had been dropped in the sink and held it out. “Goodnight then.”

Chapter 25: Shards of Glass

Summary:

Yoko: I’d give you the “family and friends discount.”

Yoko: Even though you gave Hito-chan a fun code name but not me. Sure, we've known each other longer, but…

Ruse: Are you joking?

Yoko: A friend would know.

Ruse: Oh hell.

Notes:

Before you get there...yes, sauté is the real name of a ballet jump. 🙃

“Fix your feet, that's closer to third than fifth,” she teased. “I know you can do it properly.”

“We've just been practicing for a while.” Shōta closed the distance between his feet. 

“And sauté,” she said, modeling the jump. Her perfect bun stayed motionless, but the loose curls at her neck sprung as she landed. 

He followed his mother's smooth movements.

“Into arabesque.” 

The lines of her body were so effortlessly clean. Shōta grumbled, his recent preteen growth making it hard to sense if he was moving with anything like grace.

Mama looked over at him, her playful smirk growing. “You're earning your nickname over there.”

He dropped the dance position entirely and whined, “Mama!”

With the same smoothness of movement as her dance, she pounced toward him with her hands poised. He grinned back, dodging her hands and springing back at her. She giggled and pushed him back. Soon they were just a noisy jumble of limbs.

Mama's bun had fallen out halfway. Her hair stuck to her forehead and her bright red cheeks. “Yield! I yield!”

“Ha!” Shōta stood and stalked away from their tickle fight like a proud cat. 

She tackled him as soon as his back was turned, wrapping him up in a tight hug with all four arms and legs. “I love you, my sweet little Stormcloud.”

He blew his hair out of his eyes and tolerated the embrace.

---

Ruse: I need a hand.

Eidetic: FAVORITE! Name it. 

Ruse: I want to get a digital file into a civilian resident of the UA shelter, but I don't want to risk my other contact.

Eidetic: You always have the best challenges.

Ruse: Let me know what it would cost.

Eidetic: Pfffffft. I'll do this one for fun!

Ruse: If you don’t give me a price for your time, I'll just ask Yoko.

Ruse: I assume this will only work once.

Eidetic: Maybe! Maybe not! There are lots of factors. 

Eidetic: 1 - How quickly is the infiltration flagged?

Eidetic: 2 - How long are security logs kept?

Eidetic: 3 - Can the logs be tampered with?

Eidetic is typing…

 

Ruse: Sorry for setting Hitomi off.

Yoko: Please, this is when she's most herself.

Ruse: I know exactly what you mean, actually. 

Yoko: Next time you come, maybe your partner can come along?

Ruse: I doubt that's something your other clients do.

Yoko: You aren't our other clients, Kata-kun.

Ruse: Don't tell me you're also on board with “fun” as payment?

Yoko: I’d give you the “family and friends discount.”

Yoko: Even though you gave Hito-chan a fun code name but not me. Sure, we've known each other longer, but…

Ruse: Are you joking?

Yoko: A friend would know.

Ruse: Oh hell.

Ruse changed Yoko to Splice.

Splice: It'll do. 

Splice: Now, your other goodies. We were finally able to source the materials. They'll be ready in a week.

---

Shōta sat on the ground outside of the UA barrier, waiting.

The door clanged as it opened. Nezu walked out, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were observing. Calculating. “An oddly vulnerable position to put yourself in, Ruse-san.”

“It's just polite,” Shōta responded with equal coolness.

Nezu’s nose twitched in consideration. 

“If I stand, then I'm looming over you. It's rude.”

“That's…surprisingly thoughtful,” Nezu conceded. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Hibino Yutaka and Furuya Eri.”

The hair on Nezu's neck lifted almost imperceptibly. “Hibino is under our protection.”

“And what do you know of Furuya?” Shōta asked.

“We were able to save the life of my injured pup because of an anonymous tip. That mystery was part of why I was so suspicious of you and that lookalike boy,” Nezu said. “But Hibino immediately recognized the voice of his dead colleague.”

Shōta was glad that he was already seated. “No.”

“Unfortunately so. We just got confirmation yesterday. She washed ashore in Sendai in early May,” Nezu went on. “We didn't make the connection because of the distance from Maizuru.”

Shōta leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His mind racing but not getting anywhere. 

Nezu took a step closer. “Why is this affecting you so strongly?”

“You didn't discover Furuya Eri was an alias, did you?”

---

Izuku met him on the roof when he returned. “Sensei?”

Shōta tore off the helmet. “Your mom. The two of you are close, right?”

Izuku's eyes met Shōta's and his words sank in. It was a miracle of science, particularly to Shōta, how quickly Izuku's eyes could overflow with tears. 

“Okay,” Shōta said, taking off the liner. “I'm going to say something.”

Izuku watched as Shōta put down the headwear. 

“I really, really need you to hold it together,” Shōta's shoulders rose. “And I need you to be quiet til I'm done, or I might not finish at all.” 

“Um…okay.” Izuku sniffled.

Shōta closed his eyes and tried to loosen his jaw muscles enough to talk. “It's been 3 months today since I saw Eri. And in 2 days, it will have been 2 months since I knew she was safe. Saying that it hurts is…it's such a ridiculous understatement. Like your insides are just shards of glass…” 

Izuku whimpered.

“No. Shh,” Shōta said shakily, opening his eyes to point at Izuku. “It's been almost 2 months since your mother saw you, and just over 3 weeks since she knew you were safe. We can do something about that. She can feel a little less broken. You're going to record a video and Hitomi is going to get it to her.”

“I know I can't tell her where we are, or what we're doing, or who I'm with…so…”

“I trust your judgment. Let me know when you're ready to send it to Hitomi,” Shōta said, picking up what he'd dropped and turning to leave.

“Wait, I need your help figuring out what to say,” Izuku squeaked.

Shōta shook his head. “It's your mom, kid. You'll know what was left unsaid.” 

“The whole reason that you thought of this is because you know what she's feeling! I'll trip all over my words, and it will come out wrong. I want her to feel better but I don't know what it feels like…to be all broken glass.” Izuku grabbed his hand before he could walk away. “Please?”

He closed his eyes again. Everything ached. “Sure, kid.”

“Thank you.” Unsurprisingly, Izuku's hugs were as full of feeling as the teen himself. 

They stood that way for a while, quiet and still. Izuku pressed into Shōta's back, evidence that being a hero doesn't mean that you can't show your feelings. Shōta looked up at the clouds, one hand holding firmly to Izuku's arm, evidence that those feelings can be endured and made to mean something.

Chapter 26: Your Quirk, Not His

Summary:

Hitomi seized Izuku. “Mei-chan's gloves, but with new features. Come on, let's go. I've been dying to see how they work!”

Izuku pulled back, thinking of the other Hatsume. “I won't burn to death or lose a limb, or anything like that. Right?”

“Nah, nothing new in this would damage a limb,” Hitomi said dismissively, dragging him along. Either she was much stronger than she looked, or Izuku had given up entirely. “And our test room has an automated fire suppression system.”

The door opened and Shōta suddenly had armfuls of Hitomi.

“HELLO, FAVORITE!”

Hitomi leaned back, still hanging on Shōta, to examine Hizashi. Her pupil-lenses shifted as she took in various features. Then she abruptly ran off.

Izuku was very used to another Hatsume and seemed unfazed. Hizashi knew Mei by reputation and was just a little disoriented. Naoki, completely unprepared, looked shell-shocked.

“Come on then,” Shōta said, walking inside after Hitomi and toward the workshop.

“YOKO-CHAN!” Hitomi's screaming could be heard down the hallway, followed by laughter.

As they entered, Hitomi pointed. “SEE! I told you that Kata-kun's partner was Present Mic!”

Hizashi pointed to himself as if they could be talking about anyone else. 

Yoko approached and circled him. “You're never wrong, Hito-chan, but how did you know this time?”

“⅛ inch scar over his left eyebrow. It looks sort of like a star,” Hitomi said proudly.

Yoko stopped back in front of him. She pulled his face down by his chin to look for the scar. She hummed when she found it and popped her gum bubble right in his face.

Hizashi choked in surprise. He tried unsuccessfully to cover it with a strained laugh. “Hello.”

Yoko released Hizashi's face and smirked. “Can I call you Mic?”

Hitomi lay across the work table and pretended to snore.

Shōta's malicious grin appeared and Izuku couldn't evade quickly enough. Soon he was out from his hiding place behind Hizashi. “Hito-chan, this is the boy that your niece calls–”

“TEN MILLION!!!!!!”

Shōta winced at the volume, which was impressive since he was accustomed to Hizashi.

Hitomi seized Izuku. “Mei-chan's gloves, but with new features. Come on, let's go. I've been dying to see how they work!”

Izuku pulled back, thinking of the other Hatsume. “I won't burn to death or lose a limb, or anything like that. Right?”

“Nah, nothing new in this would damage a limb,” Hitomi said dismissively, dragging him along. Either she was much stronger than she looked, or Izuku had given up entirely. “And our test room has an automated fire suppression system.”

Naoki was obviously, though not surprisingly, unsettled. Shōta caught the older teen's eye and jerked his head after Hitomi and Izuku.

“Really?” Naoki snipped, crossing his arms. “I'm on Broccoli protection?”

“Hitomi will be absorbed with Izuku,” Shōta pointed out. “And Yoko will be moving on from Hizashi any second now.”

Yoko's head turned, and her smirk sharpened. “Oh, Amplitude! Unlike at the bar, I can see your cute lil face today…”

“Nope!” Naoki shook his head vehemently and hurried off into the corridor.

Yoko's smile and posture relaxed. “That desperate for some adults-only time, Kata-kun?”

Shōta shrugged noncommittally. Hizashi's eyes were fixed on the corridor, the echoing voices still clear. Shōta nudged the blonde.

“You're sure they'll be okay?” Hizashi asked.

“Yeah,” Shōta answered. “Hitomi's chaos is well-controlled. Mostly.”

“Hito-chan absolutely loves Kata-kun,” Yoko assured Hizashi, scanning a shelf of boxes. She picked a box up off the shelf and turned back to them. “She would never let anything happen to his kids.”

Hizashi nodded, working his jaw. 

Shōta tapped Hizashi's jaw joint. “Sunshine, it's okay. I trust them.”

“Did you just say that you trust someone?” Hizashi's head whipped to the side to look at Shōta.

Yoko threw the box on the table to seize Shōta by the shoulders. “And did you just call him ‘sunshine'?!” 

He looked between them. “I've made a terrible mistake. My irritation at being conscious is immeasurable.”

“You brought it onto yourself.” Hizashi giggled before he added, “Kitten.”

Yoko howled with laughter. Hizashi wrapped his arms around Shōta, who was undeniably sulking. 

Yoko's smile softened as she settled. “Jokes aside, you have a very sweet little family, Kata-kun. And you look much better than a few weeks ago.” 

“Thank you again for looking after him, Yoko-san,” Hizashi said, resting his head on Shōta's shoulder.

“They're your boys, right Kata?” Yoko righted the thrown box and checked its contents. 

“Not like you're thinking. He just brings home troubled strays,” Hizashi said fondly.

“Except…” Shōta's stomach clenched. He shook his head and looked down. 

Hizashi lifted his head, keeping his eyes trained on Yoko's. “So what's in the box?”

Yoko put on a small smile and pushed it toward them. Inside were 2 neat bundles of black fabric, each 3 inches wide. A small device and a group of electrodes lay between them. Yoko waited for Shōta to look back up at her before saying anything. 

“You weren't able to control the cloths effectively with your telekinesis because of the constant quirk use to hold them in place,” Yoko began. “These will synchronize with your neural network. When your quirk is inactive, they will automatically increase tension within the fabric itself to secure themselves around your arm. Their passive properties will protect and reinforce your arms. When your quirk is active, they will loosen and become pliable.”

Shōta picked up one bundle, turning it over in his hands. “How does it know?”

Yoko grinned, picking up the pack of electrodes. “We duplicated the fiber that you gave us and infused it with nanotechnology. These electrodes connect to that. We're going to train the nanotech to recognize what each neural state looks like. May I?”

At his nod, Yoko began applying electrodes to his neck and face. 

“Neural states…how broad is that mapping?” Hizashi asked.

“It has to be broad. We're learning how much the idea of a ‘quirk center’ in the brain is flawed,” Yoko explained. 

“How does it deal with variations?” Shōta frowned.

She stuck the last electrode and flicked Shōta in the forehead. “Relax, you. I've already overthought all of it.”

Hizashi muffled his laugh at Shōta's scowl.

“We build a profile, basically. The more ‘training time’ the tech gets, the more refined the profile becomes and the more fine control you'll have.”

She tapped one bundle against Shōta's wrist like a snap bracelet, and the cloths automatically wrapped themselves up his arm to his shoulder. His eyes went wide with surprise.

“Cool, huh?” She laughed and repeated the process on his other arm. “Do they feel okay?”

He moved his arms, flexing and bending them. “Yeah, this is the pliable mode?”

“Yep. That’s what they'll feel like when your quirk is active.” Yoko picked up the small device from the box and pressed a button. The cloths covered the same area, but felt snug like the sleeves of a compression shirt. “When it's inactive, the weave itself tightens and the areas of overlap temporarily fuse together.”

Shōta looked at his arms while he checked the ease and range of motion again. 

Hizashi looked at Shōta, but was speaking to Yoko. “What would happen if he used his quirk differently, or it changed somehow?”

Yoko leaned against the table and crossed her arms. “You have something you need to tell me, Kata-kun?”

Shōta scratched his cheek as he thought. 

Hizashi rolled his eyes. “You already let the kids walk off alone with her partner, and justified it by saying that you trust them. In those words.”

“I know, I was deciding what to share.” Shōta said grumpily, reaching for Hizashi's hand. “I have a complex mental emitter quirk with two effects.” 

Yoko perked up. “Telekinesis and…?” 

Shōta's jaw muscle ticked. “It's unique and very recognizable. It makes me a target. It's dangerous to know what it is.”

Yoko looked between the two of them. “You're being serious right now?”

Hizashi frowned. “Yeah. Deadly.”

“The primary effect is very distinct from the telekinetic effect,” Shōta added. “But when I use the primary effect, there are limited involuntary telekinetic effects.”

Yoko rubbed her hand over her mouth. “When you use your telekinesis, is there any involuntary crossover effect?”

“No,” Hizashi piped up. “I know what the other one feels like, and it's not there when he uses the telekinesis.”

“Okay. You might have that backwards then.” Yoko paced back and forth as she processed the information aloud. “Secondary effects typically aren't strong enough to bleed into the primary effect.” 

Shōta carefully maintained his appearance of neutrality. 

“If this is your weaker effect, your primary effect must be stupidly strong. Or!” Yoko pointed at him. “If your other effect was strong enough to be misidentified as a primary, then your telekinesis has a scary amount of room for growth.”

Shōta's jaw clenched. Hizashi's foot tapped against the floor. Yoko lowered her hand. 

“Oh...sensitive topic?”

Hizashi nodded quickly.

You think you can win with half your strength?

It's yours! Your quirk, not his!

“It's fine, Hizashi. The order is irrelevant. I asked Yoko to make these because I have to work through it. If it will help bring her home…or tip the balance...” Shōta closed his eyes and rubbed them. “What's next, Yoko?”

 

Chapter 27: Blocks

Summary:

He rubbed the back of his neck. “The way it lights up…it would be different when you're in different mental states, right?”

“Well yes, but I already taught the nanotech to recognize basic physiological responses,” Yoko answered, squinting at something on the screen. “That information, plus your neurological profile, can account for those changes. Even in conditions of extreme stress, you're still you.”

“What if I'm not?”

“Not what?”

He glanced up at her. “Not still me.”

Naoki's knee crashed into Izuku's chest, pinning him to the test room floor. A familiar sadistic grin creeped across his face. 

The purple smoke dispersed around where Naoki had been standing before the attack.

Izuku frowned. “Wha–How did you know?” 

“Your smoke blocks vision,” Shōta explained from his place against the wall. 

Hizashi snickered at Izuku's surprised twitch. The blonde elbowed Yoko, who was watching intently from beside him. 

Naoki stood and extended a hand to pull the younger teen to his feet.

Izuku shook his head. “What did you say?” 

Shōta repeated himself flatly. “Your smoke blocks vision.”

“Right…” Izuku wrapped one arm around his belly, resting the opposite elbow on it. His index finger tapped his lips as he thought. 

“And what do you know about Naoki's fighting experience?” Shōta prompted.

“Naoki is used to poor visual conditions because he works at night…and when people aren't able to access one sense with regularity, their brains make up for it by strengthening other senses.” Izuku smiled slightly. “Which means he either heard or smelled me.”

Hizashi smiled. “Ding ding ding! So what do you need to do to use your smoke effectively, little listener?” 

“I could try dispersing my scent by dropping pieces of my suit, but I'd risk losing pieces of my suit forever that way…not ideal…”

Hitomi took off a glove to inspect it. 

Izuku didn't even register the loss. His eyes lit. “Could we collect my sweat, like Bakugo's gauntlets, and mix it with the smoke at a low level? It would disperse the smell.”

“Except you wouldn't use it regularly, so your gloves would be a biohazard,” Naoki said, wrinkling his nose. “And they'd smell like stale b.o. all the time.”

“Maybe some kind of olfactory disruptor cartridge,” Hitomi mumbled to herself. “But it would have to be easy to flip on and off, or else the cartridge would add too much weight, need too many refills…low cost-benefit…”

“Maybe a concentrate, depending on what the smoke is composed of?” Yoko suggested.

Hitomi's eyes gleamed. “YES!”

Shōta waved a hand. “Shelve the scent issue. They're clearly on it. What else?”

Izuku lifted his head to look at Shōta. “I need to be stealthier.”

Naoki laughed. “Oh, Zuzu, this is gonna be fun.”

Izuku laughed too, but much more nervously. 

---

The workshop was much quieter without Hizashi in it. The sound of Yoko occasionally tapping on her keyboard felt loud within the silence. 

“What's that?” Shōta asked, pointing at the spiked reading on the screen. 

“You activated the telekinesis there, see?” Yoko brought up a video of the workshop that she'd taken for reference and a neural map that lit as the box on the table lifted.

“And here is when you put on your helmet to hide your turbo-secret effect,” she said excitedly, fast-forwarding and showing the very different pattern of brain activation. “So no worries about the cloths getting them confused.”

Shōta nodded. “Good…”

“But?” Yoko flipped back to the other screen and blew a bubble.

He leaned on the wall beside the computer station, looking at her. 

She popped the bubble and looked back at him just as evenly. He sighed in resignation, and she smiled triumphantly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “The way it lights up…it would be different when you're in different mental states, right?”

“Well yes, but I already taught the nanotech to recognize basic physiological responses,” Yoko answered, squinting at something on the screen. “That information, plus your neurological profile, can account for those changes. Even in conditions of extreme stress, you're still you.”

“What if I'm not?”

“Not what?”

He glanced up at her. “Not still me.”

Yoko put her hands in her lap and turned to fully face him. “Like, you totally lose control in a fight?”

“Not exactly?” His nails dug into his neck. “It's like some other me steps in. Sometimes I can see what's happening and remember it, but not always.”

Yoko pressed her lips together. After a hard swallow, she said, “you and your challenges, Kata-kun. Are you able to make the change on purpose?”

“Yes, one way, but not in front of Hizashi. And I can't decide when it ends, but seeing him usually brings me back.” Shōta shook out his hands.

“That's adorable, actually.” Yoko patted his cheek affectionately.

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

Her face softened at his discomfort, but her voice was cheerful. “We already figured out two quirks, so we can figure this out too! Let's see what happens when ‘other you’ uses telekinesis.”

“Right now?”

“If you can, before Hizashi comes back.” Yoko said. “Anything I should know first?”

“Not really? It's mostly the same…”

---

Ruse scrutinized Yoko. “I guess it was a functional choice.”

Yoko looked up from her screen. “Hm?”

“I was trying to decide if you were special somehow.” Ruse pushed off the wall to walk around the workshop. “He's never actually talked about me before. We just let people see me as ‘getting shit done’ mode.”

“Oh, hi. Do you…have a name of your own?”

“Not really. I was Ruse, because people didn't notice me. But now it's also the name he uses for vigilantism or whatever, which gets confusing. They'll say ‘Ruse’ but they aren't talking to me, they're talking to him-in-costume.”

“So I should call you Ruse then?”

“You're asking like you expect us to talk a lot. I'm not normally a talker.” He finished his circle around the work table and came back to her. “Although I suppose that you do put a lot of emphasis on knowing what people want to be called.”

“So?”

“Call me whatever you want. Can we move on?” He yawned, sitting down on one of the stools and leaning on the work table.

“Fine, you're Hisoka now.”

“What?”

“I needed to label these readings, and Hisoka felt appropriate. It means ‘secretive.’ Lift this with telekinesis,” Yoko said, putting a pen on the table.

“Normally I step in to break into military bases or mess with beings of terrifying intelligence, but today I lift a pen. Joy.” He lifted a finger and flicked as he activated telekinesis.

---

Shōta sat at the park table across from Tensei.

Tensei grinned. “Hi Ruse.”

“Hi Not-Ingenium.”

“You know my name.”

“I know your civilian name, but you're doing hero work right now,” Shōta crossed his arms. “So I'm not going to use your civilian name.” 

Tensei chuckled and shook his head. “I don't know that I'd call this hero work.”

“It's not civilian work, and you're not in any police or military role. So what is it?”

Tensei frowned thoughtfully at that.

“Mmhm. So, Not-Ingenium, what did you want to tell me?”

“Right. That investigator is still on the case right now, but only because we're chasing bigger fish,” Tensei explained, pulling a sheet of paper from his shirt's chest pocket. 

Shōta grit his teeth. “Better be a really big fish.”

Tensei nodded. “I was also able to tie him to the League of Villains.”

Shōta leaned forward. “How?”

“Compress,” Tensei answered, placing the transcript on the table and sliding it toward him. “Tsukauchi confirmed his testimony was legitimate.”

Shōta looked down at the page. “How high in the League?”

“At least up to Kurogiri.”

“It's hard to imagine anything Kurogiri did happening without the explicit direction of Shigaraki and his Sensei.” Shōta said coolly.

Tensei shivered involuntarily. “Yeah, he's not the independent thinker he used to be.”

Shōta frowned. “Right. You knew him. Before.”

“I try not to think of them as the same person, but sometimes it does sneak up.” Tensei's smile was tight.

Shōta tapped his fingers on the pages. “Do you think the connection to Kurogiri is relevant to the kidnapping at all?”

“Not entirely sure, but I wouldn't rule it out yet. All For One and the Doctor have directly targeted her father at least once before,” Tensei said tiredly. “When they arrested the doctor at Jaku, he said they'd wanted Erasure but settled for Cloud.”

Shōta's ears were thrumming, but he took a deep breath before asking, “what?”

“I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Tsuki said you legitimately care about the case,” Tensei hedged. “When Present Mic brought the Doctor in, he was raving about how they'd created the whole encounter back then to capture Aizawa. We thought maybe he was just trying to get a rise out of Mic, but the Doctor repeated it later in front of Tsuki.”

“Can I keep this?” Shōta pointed at the transcript.

“Sure,” Tensei said. “I'm sure you'll keep it safe?”

Shōta folded it and put it into his pocket. “Next time I see you, give me something to call you besides ‘Not-Ingenium.’”

Tensei grinned. “I'll think about it.”

Notes:

Studies show that people who dissociate into distinct personalities actually have different neural patterns.

Chapter 28: And Here We Are Anyway

Summary:

Naoki crossed his arms. “You would find a way to complain about cute little puppies.”

Shōta looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. “They're loud, they do their business everywhere, and they bite with those needle teeth when they feel literally any emotion.”

“You didn't need to prove me right,” Naoki whined.

Shōta huffed. “You're complaining about my complaining. Felt appropriate.”

Notes:

Shuffle & ball change are tap dancing moves.

TW domestic violence, starting at "'Where is he, Yuki?'". Safe to read after "When Shōta returned to Yoko & Hitomi's..." Summary in end notes.

Shōta carefully applied the butterfly bandages close to her hairline. “How much did Dad bring home with him this time?”

Mama touched the wound, wincing, before he pushed her hand away. “Barely enough for rent. I guess he's supposed to be delivering on some project, and it's taking longer than planned.”

Shōta frowned. “Okay…Mita-san asked when we'll pay our tab, so I'll just ask if I can do anything to help at the shop.”

“Stormcloud, that's sweet,” Mama said with a sad smile. “But when will you find time to do that?” 

“I'd stop going to the dojo, but Dad would be so mad. So I'll have to stop my dance lessons,” Shōta said, packing up the first aid kit. 

“But–”

He gave Mama a bright smile. “It's only until he finishes his project. And you're a better dancer than Matsushita-sensei anyway. We can practice at home after Dad leaves again.”

She reached out and stroked his cheek. “Promise me you'll go back as soon as you can?"

Shōta nodded immediately. “Promise. I like dance better anyway.”

She chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Okay.”

He climbed to his feet and shuffle-ball changed his way to the bathroom to put the kit back on the shelf. The knot in his chest loosened at the sound of her genuine laughter.

---

Ariko Nagamine had been completely drained of blood before she died. Then she'd been burned almost beyond recognition.  

The medical examiner estimated that she'd been killed between April 28 & April 30. Days after Eri was taken. 

If they'd “replaced” Ariko's quirk with her daughter's, then the same people that would kill that savagely had Eri now.

Ariko knew she was putting herself in danger. Did she know that she was putting Eri in danger too?

Take good care of our girl, Eraser. 

Right. She thought Eri would be safe with him. With the other heroes. At UA.

The guilt was choking.

He snatched up the other reports he'd pulled. Might as well add insult to injury.

---

“Where is he, Yuki?”

“I don't know.”

“Bullshit,” he growled. 

Shōta hid deeper in the storage closet, tucking himself into a corner underneath some coats that had fallen from their hangers.

“What are you going to do, Kazuo?” Mama's footsteps, running. 

“He was never yours to keep anyway. You knew that.” The sounds of the kitchen cabinets flying open and hitting into each other. “Father's tired of all your delays, tired of waiting, and he's taking it out on me.” 

Shōta's hands wandered up towards his ears, but he pulled them back down. He didn't want to hear, but he couldn't risk not being ready if Dad came down the hallway.

“Please, no.” She must be pulling on his hands because the banging stopped for a few seconds, until the cracking sound and her scream.

“He told me to get rid of you years ago, but I didn't listen. I told him the kid would need a caretaker while I worked, and it might as well be you. But all you do is poison the boy against me.” A louder bang, from the living room.

“You can't even bring yourself to use his name!”

“I don't need to. He's a tool. A weapon. Those don't need names, Yuki.”

A smash. Clattering. Dad roaring. Shōta's hands tightened near his ears, but he wouldn't cover them.

“Don't you understand the life we could have? We hand him over, Father has what he needs to return to his rightful place, and it'll be because of us.”

“It'll be because you sacrificed our child in some petty play for power!”

A scream.

Quiet.

---

When Shōta returned to Yoko & Hitomi's, he grabbed his new gear and went into the test room to burn off some emotional energy. He did not expect someone else to already be there.

Naoki was dangling from the ceiling by his capture scarf.

“Hey, you're back later than we thought,” Naoki said, sliding down to his feet.

“Stopped back home. In Sanya,” he muttered. “Why are you up?”

Naoki drew the scarf back up in his hands and wrapped it around himself. “Old habits I guess. Sometimes I just wake up ready to go, ya know?”

“Naoki, do I strike you as a man that has ever woken up ‘ready to go'?”

“‘Ready to go’? No,” Naoki snickered. “Maybe ‘ready to punch something.’”

“Better.” Shōta activated his telekinesis and the thin bands of capture scarf cloth hovered around his arms in loose loops. He lifted an arm and looped the cloth around the ceiling truss. 

“I've tested them all. You won't pull the building down on yourself,” Naoki offered.

“Good thinking.” Shōta used telekinesis to pull the scarf back up the length of his arm and he lifted up smoothly to the truss.

He looked down to Naoki, who was smiling. 

“How's it feel to be using it again, kind of?”

Shōta frowned, flipping himself upside down by catching his feet on the truss. “Less wear and tear on the joints, maybe, but still feels like a grappling hook. Just quirk based. ”

Naoki crossed his arms. “You would find a way to complain about cute little puppies.”

Shōta looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. “They're loud, they do their business everywhere, and they bite with those needle teeth when they feel literally any emotion.”

“You didn't need to prove me right,” Naoki whined.

Shōta huffed. “You're complaining about my complaining. Felt appropriate.”

“Shut up already! Try swinging around with the other one.”

Shōta sent the other cloth to hook around another truss, then released the first. As he swung forward, something snapped back into place and for just a moment, he forgot why he was so upset to begin with.

At least until Naoki grabbed the trailing cloth and yanked him to the mat. It knocked the wind right out of him.

The teen smirked down at him. “Gotta get used to reeling the excess back up or you're vulnerable, boss.”

“You're a little shit,” Shōta wheezed.

Naoki started to run, but Shōta didn't need to stand up to send one of the cloths after him and yank his ankle.

At least they were both wheezing on the mat now.

---

Hizashi wandered into the workshop around 6 AM, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hitomi has some wacky contraption making breakfast, you should see it,” he said with a yawn. “It's one of those things where you drop a marble, and it knocks over a stick, which makes a weight fall–”

“Rube-Goldberg,” Shōta interrupted without looking up. 

Hizashi blinked. “A who what?”

Shōta put down his pen with a frustrated sigh. “It's called a Rube Goldberg machine. A series of items set up in a chain reaction to accomplish some mundane task.”

“Okay then, Grumpy Gus,” Hizashi said as he put down the mug of coffee next to Shōta. “How late did you get back from Tokyo anyway?”

“2 AM. No, I didn't sleep yet. Yes, I know it's unhealthy. No, I can't be convinced to go take a nap right now.”

“Oooooookay then. And why, exactly, are you making that my problem?”

Shōta crossed his arms and looked at Hizashi. “Were you ever going to tell me about what Garaki said to you?”

Hizashi suddenly looked very awake. “Huh?”

“I know you heard him because, according to the report, 3 people had to hold you back.” Shōta glowered at him. “So, were you ever going to tell me?”

“Of course I was,” Hizashi said softly, avoiding his eyes. “Eventually. I just didn't know how. And you were already hurting so much, so I was putting it off…”

“Until when?”

Hizashi's hand rested on his own chest right at his collarbone. “Until I had to, I guess?”

Shōta shoved himself away from the table, into a standing position. “You didn't think it might have been necessary when Eri was taken? You didn't think you ‘had to’ then?”

Hizashi didn't say anything.

“God dammit, Hizashi.” Shōta started shoving all the papers back together and into his bag.

Hizashi's face turned blotchy. “You were barely talking to me for weeks, and even then, you only stayed at first because I blew out your eardrums the day before Oboro's birthday! Was I supposed to punch down, to tell you then? Or maybe I should have told you when you weren't even fully healed, but decided it was a good idea to attack Yagi, Tsuki, and Nezu? Or right after the kids found out about what happened with your father? You know, you're right. I passed up so many splendid opportunities to tell you the one thing that would guarantee you leaving.”

“Right, instead you kept me here and let me pull more people into my disaster of a life,” Shōta spat back. “Why would you let me put you, put them, in danger like that?”

Hizashi threw up his hands. “You can't do this by yourself. I love you too much to let you try.”

Shōta took a few steps backwards. “Maybe you shouldn't.”

All the fight drained from Hizashi. “Oh, babe, I tried that for 15 years. And here we are anyway.”

Shōta closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“You beat the tar out of me on international television, and my heart sang, ‘that one! I want that one!’” Hizashi gave a small, hopeful smile. “So maybe don't expect the most rational decisions out of me when it comes to you, ya dig?” 

Shōta covered his face and his shoulders started shaking. Hizashi's smile fell and he stepped toward Shōta. 

“I could still beat the tar out of you,” Shōta said, the sound of hysterical giggles finally escaping. 

The relief got Hizashi giggling too. “Don't threaten me with a good time, now.”

Shōta leaned his forehead on Hizashi's shoulder. The blonde put an arm around Shōta and kissed his head. 

“You're an idiot,” Shōta said with a sigh.

Hizashi hummed. “An idiot that you're madly in love with.”

“Tried not to be for 15 years.”

“And here we are anyway.”

Notes:

Shōta's father (Kazuo) refers to Shōta being "created" for some purpose of his father's. Shōta's mother (Yuki) has known this from the start but has been delaying him being used as a "tool" and a "weapon" that doesn't even need a name. During this time, Kazuo is searching the apartment for Shōta. It's implied that this is when Kazuo kills Yuki.

Chapter 29: Families

Summary:

“Hey, Problem Child?”

“Hmm?”

Shōta grinned mischievously. “See if you can sneak up on Naoki and hit him with some of the whipped cream left over from breakfast.”
“Huh?!”

“Go.” Shōta picked up the transcript to resume reading. “Ask Hizashi to record it.”

Izuku giggled. “Okay.”

The Rube Goldberg breakfast machine amused Naoki and Hizashi. It absolutely delighted Izuku. 

Shōta took up residence near his own preferred machine, smiling into the cup of coffee it had produced. Izuku and Hitomi were dreaming up increasingly complicated modifications and additions. Naoki had taken a seat in the corner of the room and had fallen asleep against the wall. Hizashi was trying to reposition Naoki so he didn't wake up with a miserable pinch in his neck, but the teen was heavier than he looked. A wooden spoon that was haphazardly added to the mechanism flew off and was barely caught by Yoko before it could hit an unsuspecting Hizashi in the head.

Hizashi withdrew from the danger zone, coming to stand beside Shōta. “Whatcha smiling about under there?”

Shōta leaned into him. “The last month has not been great, but this part of it has been…”

“A joy? A delight? A source of boundless pride?”

Shōta blinked slowly and sipped his coffee.

Hizashi lowered his voice and imitated Shōta's flat affect. “Not terrible. Fine. Bearable.”

A useless attempt to stave off a yawn.

Hizashi elbowed him. “Well?” 

“Mmm…forgot. Should probably take a nap.” He straightened up as if he were going to leave.

“No! Come onnnnnnn,” Hizashi whined, poking him in the ribs. “You're messing with me.”

“Maybe. But it's so easy. And fun.”

“Fine,” Hizashi said, turning up his nose and looking away dramatically. “Be that way.”

“This. It's been…good.” Shōta thought for a moment. “Important, and good.”

Hizashi smiled. “Yeah. It really has.”

---

What I Know

The hallway, March 21

Nemuri died at Gunga Mountain

• Hotta Brothers & Tokyo Times, April 1
• Multiple news articles, April 2
• Visited haka and family home, April 3

Eri is my daughter

• Hospital, March 24
• Located adoption record, April 22
• Kidnapping & case files, April 26

Secondary quirk strengthened

• Froze knives, May 3
• Stopped rubble, May 6
• Playground swings, May 7

I'm in love with Hizashi

• First kiss, March 27
• Tokyo, April 14
• Beach & Healing, 5/4-5/9

O4A

• Yagi, May 8
• Tsuki, May 17
• IM, June 4

Found Family

• Reveal, June 7
• Lid off, June 18
• One month, July 3

---

Izuku sat down next to him, at the work table. 

The kid was either gathering his thoughts or his nerve. Shōta wasn't sure which, but it didn't change what he had to do. He waited, only paying partial attention to the transcript of Compress’ interview.

It took a few minutes before Izuku spoke up.

“You've been on that page a while.”

Shōta's lip twitched. “Distracted. I was wondering what the kid next to me wanted to talk about, but didn't want to rush him.”

“Oh.” Izuku flushed. “Right.”

He lowered the papers. “It's fine. You ready, or you still working on it?”

Izuku picked at his fingernails. “I was just wondering. Shigaraki took Ragdoll's quirk, so wouldn't he know where I am? Why aren't they coming after me yet?”

“They've been hard to predict all along. It could be that they're just messing with you.”

“Oh…well, I guess it's working then.” Izuku's voice shook.

Shōta tensed and put the papers down entirely. “I don't actually think that's it, though, Izuku-kun. I don't think they know where you are at all. Without being sure, they can’t risk showing their hand.”

“Wh-what makes you say that?” 

“Shiretoko was in the same class as me and Hizashi. When we'd spar, she'd complain that Erasure would reset Search. She'd lose all her pre-existing ‘tags’ on people.” Shōta smiled at the memory of 15-year-old Ragdoll having a fit mid-spar. “Shiretoko developed her quirk control so she'd only lose a few ‘tags’, or not lose any at all. I doubt Shigaraki spent that kind of energy on it, though, so it's likely he doesn't have that advantage for now.”

Izuku drummed his fingers on the table. “You really think so? You're not just trying to make me feel better?”

“I know that I was….creative?...with the truth sometimes when we were still at UA.”

Izuku laughed. “Creative?”

“Yes,” Shōta said, shooting him a sharp look. “I wouldn't do that here, now, about this. This is your safety, and everyone else's here. It's the fight. I will never be anything less than honest with you about that.” 

The laugh quickly gave way to solemnity. “Yeah.”

“You've had to…” Shōta huffed, scratching his cheek. “You've grown up too quickly. All of this, it forced it. And the things you've…”

Izuku looked at Shōta as the older man chewed on the inside of his lip. 

“You've had to do things no kid should have to. And you'll probably have to do more before this is over.”

“But I can do it, sensei,” Izuku insisted, clenching his fists.

“I don't doubt that. I just want you to be a kid for as long as you can. To keep as much of that innocence as we can manage.” Shōta rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So let me take what I can off you, yeah?” 

Izuku's voice was quiet. “Yeah…okay.”

Izuku resumed picking at his fingernails. 

“Hey, Problem Child?”

“Hmm?”

Shōta grinned mischievously. “See if you can sneak up on Naoki and hit him with some of the whipped cream left over from breakfast.”

“Huh?!”

“Go.” Shōta picked up the transcript to resume reading. “Ask Hizashi to record it.”

Izuku giggled. “Okay.”

---

The stairs were more uneven than he remembered. Had they gotten worse, or had Shōta just forgotten how bad they'd always been? They groaned and squeaked under his feet. There wasn't a rail to grab onto if they gave way. 

He walked into the 3rd floor corridor. Yellowed and peeling paint covered the walls, lit by equally yellowed lights. The carpet looked brown, but not by design. It smelled damp. 

He stopped when he reached the door to 3F. 

Shōta ran his hand through his hair. It was black today. He'd need to bleach it back out before leaving the neighborhood, but that was fine. It felt wrong to be here if he didn't look like Mama. If he didn't look like her Stormcloud.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door behind him flew open. “Oi! Who are you and what do you want?”

Hands visible. Slowly turning. Taking stock of the situation.

A man around his age in ripped apart jeans and a t-shirt. A frying pan in his hands at his side. A cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“Zat you, Tsubasa? Never thought I'd see you again.”

Shōta frowned. 

“They haven't been able to rent that apartment out for more than a handful of weeks at a time since you left.” The man leaned in his doorway. 

“Left?” An oddly clinical way of describing what happened.

“Yeah.” The man snapped his fingers. “Your mom was a dancer. Yuka?”

“Yuki.”

“Yeah, that was it,” the man said. He took a drag on the cigarette. “Yuki, Kazuo, and Shōta. And then, one day, all gone. Replaced by a swarm of cops.”

This guy's face was looking more punchable with every passing second, so he should stop looking. Shōta closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then his mind snagged. 

“What did you call me before?” he asked, opening his eyes. 

The man looked puzzled. “Uh…your name? We were in the same classes at school for like 6 years, Tsubasa.”

Shōta squinted his eyes. “Right, uh…Kurakawa?”

The man gave a small nod. “Yep. Kurakawa Ito. That's me.”

“Anyone living here now?” Shōta pointed over his shoulder. 

“Nah. Pretty sure I'm one of the only ones left in the building. That's why I opened my door with the welcome mat, here.” Kurakawa lifted the frying pan. 

“Great. Nice talking to you Kurakawa.” 

Shōta lifted the door by its knob and checked it with his shoulder. The door popped open easily. Some things never change.

He glanced back at Kurakawa, went into the apartment, and shut the door behind himself.

Notes:

For reference...Naoki is 19, which is why Shōta feels a little less hesitation about bringing him along. (The age of majority in Japan is 18.)

Chapter 30: Hisoka

Summary:

“You look like a creamsicle, boss,” Naoki said, smacking the low bun of pale orange hair. 

“Flaw or feature?” he asked dispassionately.

“Depends how long we're staying and how many creamsicles they can fit in their freezer.”

Notes:

Tw Kazuo's death. If you need to skip, it's the italics. Summary in end notes.

Shōta leaned against the closed apartment door.

It was a coincidence. 

It had to be a coincidence. 

He needed it to be a coincidence. 

He knew that it wasn't a coincidence. 

His mind wouldn't make him forget his own birth name for that. His mind would make him forget to avoid the rising tide of horror. The rush of implications.

Did Nezu know about the experiments back then? Is that why he'd actually gotten involved?

Was he only taken in by Nezu to keep him away from the Doctor?

They tried to get to him the first time he spent any amount of time in the field, in his work study. 

They got Oboro instead. Made him into…that. Into Kurogiri. Oboro really was killed destroyed because of him. 

What would they have done if they'd actually gotten him? He was already a “tool”, a “weapon,” at 12. 

What even was he?

---

Ruse (Hisoka?) stepped in. Shōta knew now. That was enough. Letting it spiral too far, too fast, while they were alone - that wasn't necessary.

Looking around the apartment, it clearly had aged without care. No surprise. The flooring had been pulled up. Spots on the wall had unpainted plaster repairs that had been left alone, chipping without paint to cover them. Half the kitchen cabinets didn't have doors anymore, and the others barely held on. 

The subfloor of the living room had never been replaced. There was a broad, red-brown stain where Yuki had fallen. 

He looked across the room at the other, much smaller, red-brown stain against the wall. He remembered the desperation and rage that Shōta had felt in that moment. 

Flinging Kazuo into that wall with impossible speed. Hitting the floor when the man was forced to drop him. Scrambling to his feet. Thinking he'd just delayed the man's advance. Noticing the spray of blood on the wall. Creeping closer.

“A mas’erpiece,” Kazuo slurred. “He'll be…s’ happy.”

Stumbling back away. “No!”

He clenched his fist. The man struggled for breath, but he couldn't release his hand. Couldn't go where Kazuo wanted. He waited for Kazuo's struggling to stop.

Shōta lay down against Yuki, shaking, heedless of the blood soaking into his skin and clothes now. Desperate to absorb any of her remaining warmth. 

Hisoka couldn't let that through now. They had to go now, before Shōta could try to resurface. He'd never been able to push him out of the way before, but...

Things were changing.

---

Hisoka walked back into Yoko and Hitomi's, hands in his pockets. 

“You look like a creamsicle, boss,” Naoki said, smacking the low bun of pale orange hair. 

“Flaw or feature?” he asked dispassionately.

“Depends how long we're staying and how many creamsicles they can fit in their freezer.” Naoki's implied question was clear. 

“Hizashi's birthday is the 7th, and he's always been big on birthdays. So in 3 days, on the 8th. You can tell Izuku but that's it.” Hisoka waved him off. 

Once the teen disappeared, he walked into the workshop. He gave a small salute to Yoko and jumped to sit on the work table beside her. She was making adjustments to one of Izuku's gloves. 

“Did you get what you needed, Kata-kun?”

He didn't answer immediately, so she lifted the magnifying lenses she wore to look at him.

“Hisoka,” he corrected. 

She smiled warmly. “Oh, you like the name?”

He shrugged. “It clears up some confusion.”

“You can admit that you like it,” she said, blowing & then popping a gum bubble. “So you had to get shit done?”

“That's not the only time I step in, just the most impossible to miss.” Hisoka leaned back on his hands. He looked at her. “Kata-kun is trying to decide if you're trusted associates, or if you're friends.”

Yoko laughed, loud and long. Hisoka waited. 

“Oh,” she said, laughter fading. “You're serious.”

“I typically am.”

She put down the glove and the magnifier lenses entirely. “Right. If I tell you something, will he know it too?”

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “If I decide that he should.”

“And you know everything he knows?”

Hisoka nodded. 

“Okay, so Kimura had no idea that Hitomi and I worked on the orders together. My biggest role at the bar was knowing what Kimura’s clients did, both before and after they left. You know Kimura would work with some pretty dark gray people, but he had boundaries,” Yoko kicked her feet idly and gazed up at the ceiling. “I'd screen clients, and then watch to ensure they didn't cross one of those lines.” 

Hisoka considered her. “You played the ditzy barmaid but held a lot of power.”

She laughed. “Yep. I found very little information out there about anyone named Okino Katashi. It's spotty and inconsistent at best. Pretty clearly not his real name, which isn't unusual, but no red flags. And then he was one of the few people that really noticed me.”

“You saw and absorbed everything,” Hisoka supplied. He yawned involuntarily. “Your noticing made you noticeable.”

“I try,” Yoko answered with a grin. “About a week or so after the meeting in Shizuoka, I noticed Kimura was acting weird. Then he crossed one of his own lines with Ultraviolet. That's when I knew that I had to leave.”

Hisoka calculated quickly in his mind. “Why did you stay for another month?”

Yoko scoffed. “Neither Kimura nor Ultraviolet is a person you just walk out on. We got a new workshop and moved out bit by bit. And in the meantime, I considered the client list. Kata's the only one that I even warned.”

“That was a terrible idea, Yoko.” Hisoka shook his head in disbelief. “We're clearly being targeted. So why would you do that?”

She smiled. “Because of what I saw you do as Ruse, and because of what you just said. I don't know who you managed to piss off or how. I don't need to know, because I know you're a good person. Good people.”

“Yoko, this is dangerous for you, and Hitomi,” Hisoka reiterated. “Really dangerous.”

Yoko leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Yes. Hitomi also knows the risks and she agreed. We don't abandon our friends.”

That statement hung in the air.

“And for what it's worth,” Yoko added. “Hito-chan wasn't sure at first. No scar, a poorly healed broken nose, different hair. So she didn't say anything to me until 2 days ago. But we know that Kata-kun is Aizawa Shōta. I didn't say anything cuz I thought it would spook him.”

Hisoka nodded. “I think he'll accept that you're friends, and so he won't be scared off. I'll let him know about this conversation."

“You know, at first, I thought you were like a numbed out version of Kata. Well, Shōta. But you're not, are you?” Yoko pulled on a strand of her metallic hair thoughtfully. “You're like a shield, Hisoka, or a guard. You come out when things are threatening his mind, but can't be stopped.”

A name. A role. He was not used to being so seen. He didn't hate it, but he wasn't sure if he liked it either. 

“Yes, I suppose that's accurate.” Hisoka slid off the table and sat on a stool beside her. “But things can stop right now, so I'll step back. That's always easier than a snap transition.”

“But he'll need Hizashi,” Yoko answered. 

“Yes,” Hisoka agreed. “Most definitely.”

She quickly sent a text message and waited to receive a reply. She put her phone down on the table and turned to Hisoka. “Hizashi's on his way from the testing room.”

“Bye for now, then,” Hisoka said and lay his head down on his arms. 

Yoko leaned over to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “Bye for now, Hisoka.”

---

Ruse: Meet me in Akabane.

Rat: Oh, is that where you've disappeared to?

Ruse: Not exactly. 

Rat: Why would I want to do that?

Ruse: I'm asking nicely. 

Rat: While I am delighted that you're learning manners, that is a very long trip and conditions are quite troubling. 

Rat: Try again. What's in it for me?

Ruse: An honest, straightforward conversation.

-

Ruse: I'll take off the helmet. 

 

Notes:

Summary of italics section: Shōta throws Kazuo into a wall with telekinesis that's stronger than it should be. When Kazuo calls him a masterpiece, he strangles him with telekinesis. After Kazuo is dead, he lays with Yuki. That's how he gets covered in blood.

Chapter 31: Hizashi's Plan

Summary:

Hizashi grinned. “Can I come along?” 

“In what? Your gear and how you use it is way too recognizable.”

“You, my love, have been out a lot,” Hizashi said with a giggle. “Especially with Hito-chan and Izuku in one spot for extended periods, do you really think you're the only one that's gotten some new toys?”

Shōta was practicing the alternating motions with the cloths that would allow him to move through the air. With enough focus and effort, it felt almost like traveling along a zip line, smooth and totally horizontal. Even when there was an occasional poorly timed transition, that felt like his previous capture scarf use. It was a little dip in height, or closer to a swing, depending on how off his timing was. 

Hizashi walked into the training room and watched him for several minutes before speaking. “Are you going to start taking the kids out soon?”

Shōta swooped down and picked up Hizashi. The blonde yelped in surprise and wrapped his arms tightly around Shōta's neck. Shōta tightened his hold around Hizashi in return. They hovered about 15 feet up.

“I was thinking we'd start out tonight, no particular goal. Just being in less predictable space,” Shōta answered.

Hizashi grinned. “Can I come along?” 

“In what? Your gear and how you use it is way too recognizable.”

“You, my love, have been out a lot,” Hizashi said with a giggle. “Especially with Hito-chan and Izuku in one spot for extended periods, do you really think you're the only one that's gotten some new toys?”

Shōta raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you practiced enough with all of it to not be a hazard?”

“You're worried that I'll be a ‘hazard in the field,’ even though I've been at this as long as you have.” Hizashi rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course. I made sure that I practiced enough. Especially since I knew that you'd ask.”

Shōta grumbled.

“Unless what you're actually worried about is lil ol’ me,” Hizashi teased.

Shōta reeled them all the way up, to about 25 feet. “I will drop you.”

Hizashi gave him a quick kiss. “No, you wouldn't.”

Shōta dropped them 5 feet and stopped them suddenly just to make Hizashi screech again. 

Shōta laughed and lowered them down gently to the floor. Hizashi smacked Shōta in the chest as soon as their feet hit the ground, which only made Shōta laugh harder. The other man's irritation melted into a smile.

Hizashi wrapped his other arm back around Shōta's neck and tilted his own head. “We were all worried that you were going to be a mess, but you actually seem a little better somehow?”

“I realized that nothing actually changed,” Shōta answered, looking away but leaving his arm firmly wrapped around Hizashi's waist. “Just got clearer and more…explainable.”

Hizashi moved to make eye contact. “You didn't just box it up?”

“No, Zashi,” Shōta sighed. “If I had, then I wouldn't have been so frozen up the first couple hours back.”

“Okay.” Hizashi looked at him intently.

Shōta could feel the increasing tension in Hizashi's muscles. “What is it?”

“Shō,” Hizashi started hesitantly. “Tell me about Hisoka?”

It felt like a bucket full of static was dumped over his head. His eyes locked on Hizashi's. 

“Ouch, too tight,” Hizashi said gently, shifting in Shōta's grasp.

Shōta shifted so he was gripping Hizashi's shirt instead of Hizashi himself. “Sorry,” he choked out. “Didn't mean to.”

“I know, love.” Hizashi cradled Shōta's face with both hands. “Tell me. Please.”

“Yoko told you." Just speaking made Shōta feel nauseated.

Hizashi nodded. "She thought I already knew."

“Right. Well, he's me. But different.” Shōta looked down. "He protects me. If something is too much.”

“Hey, it's fine,” Hizashi said, stroking Shōta's cheek. “I'm not judging or anything, okay?”

Shōta released a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Have I ever seen him and just not realized it?”

The confusion was clear on Shōta's face, and his eyes snapped back to Hizashi's. “No, never. I don't need him then. I have you.”

“Ever worry that you're putting too much confidence in me, there?”

“No.”

“Okay then.” Hizashi chuckled, dropping his hands to Shōta's chest. “Can I meet this other protector sometime?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Oh.” The other man's face fell. 

“No it's…when I see or hear you, it's like something throws him out. Hard.” Shōta scratched his cheek. “I don't know if it's even possible.”

“Gotcha.”

“I also never wanted…” Shōta paled. “Maybe now that you know…I don't know.”

Hizashi kissed his cheek. “Breathe, kitten.”

“I'm sorry that I'm such a mess.”

“You found a way to survive. Don't ever apologize for that.”

---

Shōta was already dressed except for the headwear under one arm. Hizashi hung on his other arm, excited to see the teens’ reactions. 

Shōta grinned, and both teens looked at one another with concern. Hizashi snorted.

“Go suit up," Shōta said. "You're going out too.”

Naoki didn't need to be told twice. He immediately ran off through the door behind the teens. 

Izuku stayed rooted, vibrating in place. “Really?”

Shōta raised an eyebrow. “Depends. You have a new code name?”

Izuku's eyes lit up. “I do! So De-, er, the other one. I was trying to reclaim it, but it still meant useless. It still came from lacking something.”

Hizashi nodded. “Yes, little listener, it did.”

“But I'm not lacking. I never was.” Izuku's determination was palpable. “Plus, now I've got multiple quirks, multiple tools to use to help people.”

“So what are you, then?” Shōta prompted. 

Izuku beamed. “I'm Rife!”

Shōta smiled, a small and genuine thing. “Yes, kid. You are.”

Hizashi bounded to him. “All right, Rife! Let's go get changed!”

Izuku let Hizashi pull him along. As they ran out, Yoko caught the door and walked over. 

“They obviously hated the news,” Yoko smirked, handing Shōta their communicators. 

Shōta hummed. “Just gotta keep them safe tonight. We're finally unleashing two hyperactive, hypermotivated teens after they've been cooped up for a month.”

“I didn't even think of that. Guess that's why you're the teacher, Aizawa-sensei,” she replied with a laugh.

“You and Hito-chan are never going to stop being proud of yourselves for figuring that out, are you?” Shōta groaned.

“Absolutely not. It feels like some serious spy shit.” Yoko winked playfully.

"With all the danger that entails," he said, bumping his shoulder into hers.

“That's why we're watching out for each other, right? So tonight, one or both of us will be listening in, in case you need anything. And we can call things into the police for you, using a signal scrambler,” Yoko said. “So you & Hizashi can focus on the kids.”

Shōta nodded. “What did you make him anyway?”

“Oh, it's adorable, like wearing coordinating ties to a wedding.” Yoko laughed. “You're gonna die when he comes back. I might even record it.”

He scoffed and focused on the communicators. He put one in his ear. “Hito-chan?”

“FAVORITE!”

“I'd joke about blowing my eardrums out, except I actually know what that feels like…”

“Ohhhh you have to tell me that story sometime!”

“It's happened more than once,” Shōta replied ruefully. “Side effect of 15 years with Hizashi. Hold on.”

He switched to another earpiece. “The first time it happened, we were only 15, but it was mostly just ringing. I could still hear.”

“Baby Ruse!” Hitomi squealed.

“Well, baby Eraserhead anyway,” he mumbled. “I like Ruse better. Hold on.”

Another communicator switch. 

“It happened a couple times at UA because he was still refining his quirk control. Sometimes it was due to pitch more than volume.”

“He can do damage with pitch too? Wait!” Hitomi stopped talking and there was suddenly a lot of background scuffling. “Okay I have paper now. Tell me!”

Shōta chuckled. “He doesn't advertise those skills so they can be more effective when he needs to use them. But he has much more versatility than he lets on. He has the best control over volume, pitch, and amount of vibrato. Last one.”

He put in the final earpiece. “The last time was just a few months ago and it was the most complete. We weren't sparring, so he wasn't paying as much attention. He was telling me off, and I deserved it.”

Hitomi whistled. 

“Yeah. Thankfully we know sign language,” Shōta sighed. “Tag this one as mine, I'll just leave it in.”

“You got it!” Hitomi cheered.

The teens bounded back in with Hizashi following behind. 

Shōta scanned Hizashi, and scowled. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

Naoki cracked up and shoved Izuku. “I told you he'd be all pissy about it.”

“Aww, come on! Imitation's the highest form of flattery!” Hizashi pointed at the teens. “And you two traitors agreed it was a good idea!”

Shōta rubbed his forehead. “Coordinating ties…”

The blonde's forehead creased. “Huh?”

Hizashi's suit was basically a copy of his, with deep blue on the side panels where Shōta had dark gray. 

Yoko giggled. “His helmet is also soundproofed - which, yes, I am amazing, thank you for noticing!"

Izuku shoved Naoki back. “And he has these speaker discs, kind of like Kaminari's targeting discs, and when he screams they become highly localized sound bombs!”

Shōta looked back at Hizashi. “Nezu knows that I'm Ruse. He hasn't said it, but he knows. If you use your quirk tonight at all and it gets back to him, he'll know you're complicit. You won't be able to go back until and unless we all go back. Are you prepared for that?”

Hizashi walked up to Shōta and crossed his arms. Their eyes met, and Hizashi's face set into an uncharacteristically challenging expression. “Listen, Shō, I know you were planning on leaving me behind in the next couple days. But I was never going to let that happen. You're stuck with me, so get used to it.”

"Okay." Shōta turned and pulled on his helmet liner. 

"That's it?" Hizashi grabbed his hand.

The helmet settled onto Shōta's head. "Unless you want all of them to hear me tell you exactly how hot that was, yeah. That's it."

Hizashi turned bright red. "SHŌTA!"

Chapter 32: Words are Hard

Summary:

“You want a hand?” Naoki asked from the doorway.

Shōta rubbed his chin. “What makes you think I need it?”

“Well, it's 4 AM,” Naoki ventured, “I saw what you just scraped off. And I've never seen someone angrily try to pipe frosting onto a birthday cake before, but it seems like bad juju.”

July 5

Rat: Try again. What's in it for me?

Ruse: An honest, straightforward conversation.

Ruse: I'll take off the helmet.

-

Today, July 7

Rat: You lied to me about Midoriya-kun.

Ruse: I very explicitly did not. I will admit to misdirection.

Rat: What exactly are your plans for him?

Ruse: Same as before. To help him.

Rat: You really think you're better equipped for that than UA?

Ruse: At least for now, yes.

Ruse: He went more than a month without being attacked, for the first time in over a year.

Ruse: Now he's actually healthy. Calm.

Ruse: Safely training for the fight that never should have been his anyway.

Rat: Quite the justification for kidnapping a child.

Ruse: Well, if we're making false accusations, what were your justifications?

Ruse: Deprogramming? A game of keep away?

Shōta slammed the phone down on the counter and picked up the bag of frosting again. He'd had to scrape it off and start over 3 times already.

“You want a hand?” Naoki asked from the doorway.

Shōta rubbed his chin. “What makes you think I need it?”

“Well, it's 4 AM,” Naoki ventured, “I saw what you just scraped off. And I've never seen someone angrily try to pipe frosting onto a birthday cake before, but it seems like bad juju.”

“And you can do better?” Shōta demanded, tossing the bag back onto the counter.

“Yeah, remember when you kicked me to the Hottas before embarking on your whole vigilante arc?” Naoki replied, picking the bag up with equal attitude. “I frosted a lot of cakes over the next 6 weeks.”

“Sorry my best wasn't good enough, kid,” Shōta bit back.

Naoki grimaced.

“I'm sorry, that -,” Shōta rubbed his face again. “That wasn't okay.”

Naoki sighed and leaned down to start piping. “It's fine, I-”

“It's not fine, Naoki. You're trying to help me.”

Naoki started piping so he wouldn't have to look over. “Right, well, thanks for saying sorry I guess?”

They fell silent as he finished piping along the base of the cake.

“Sometimes I forget that I'm not 7, and that you're a person not some idolized perfect hero,” Naoki muttered awkwardly as he assessed his work.

Shōta's brows furrowed. “That's…understandable.”

Naoki looked up and cracked a small smile. “How did you get frosting on your eyebrow, boss?”

“Just a person, right?” Shōta said, running his hand under the sink before wiping his eyebrows.

“Looks that way,” Naoki agreed, moving to pipe the cake's upper edge. “But you did a better job with the rest of the frosting than I'd expect from someone that barely manages instant ramen most days.”

Shōta dried his hands. He pressed his lips together in thought. "Huh..."

He picked up his phone again.

Ruse: Can we try this conversation over?

---

Hizashi, Izuku, and Naoki were sitting at the kitchen table and eating cake. Again. 

“You had cake for breakfast, and now you're having cake for lunch?” Shōta asked flatly.

“It's my birthday, Shō!” Hizashi whined. 

Naoki made direct eye contact while taking another bite in an explicit challenge. 

Izuku looked penitent briefly, before it turned into a warm smile. “Did you know that 1-A calls you Dadzawa? Not to you, obviously. That would have been terrifying. Or in front of other teachers. But yeah. Started over a year ago already. I think in April.”

“DADZAWA?!” Hizashi shrieked. “Zuzu, this is the best birthday present. Do not stop talking.”

“I thought you didn't get Eri until September?” Naoki asked. 

“We didn't,” Shōta confirmed drily.

Naoki's eyes glittered with anticipated mischief. 

“I know!” Izuku answered, grinning so wide his eyes were barely open at all. “Aren't you curious?”

“Please no,” Shōta grumbled. “I don't even know what you're about to say, but just no.”

Hizashi put down his fork and leaned forward. “Please yes. It's my birthday.”

Izuku giggled and scooted his chair closer to Hizashi's. “Okay! So, on the first day back at school after the USJ, Hagakure heard sensei talking to Recovery Girl.”

“7th school day, little listener,” Hizashi whispered to Naoki. “Shō almost died protecting his class from a villain attack.”

Naoki's eyes widened.

“That was a Wednesday, and he insisted on coming back to the school on Friday morning like everyone else,” Hizashi practically growled. “Idiot.”

Subconsciously, Shōta reached to touch where the half-moon scar should be. 

Izuku followed his hand's movement. “You told RG that you didn't trust anyone else to train us.”

Shōta dropped the hand with a scowl.

“So you've proven that I'm a curmudgeon that should probably trust my colleagues more. This is not some great psychological insight.” 

Izuku shook his head and looked back to Naoki and Hizashi. “RG teased him about expelling half of his last class before the USJ trip, but now he couldn't take a single day away from a still-full class. Most of us just wrote it off at first. But then he didn't expel anyone by the end of the month.“

Hizashi glanced at Shōta and giggled. Shōta just closed his eyes and rubbed them. 

Izuku was picking up speed. “Plus I realized that he was grumpier on days where more of us had gotten hurt during training the day before. And he twinkled on days that we did really well.”

Naoki cackled. “Twinkled?”

Shōta cracked one eye to look at Izuku.

Izuku waved his hands towards Shōta. “Aoyama's words, not mine! I would've never said that you twinkle. Maybe something else though? Um. Anyway…right! So I think Kaminari said it first, in the group chat, and it caught on there. But nobody said it out loud until a week before the Sports Festival. Ojiro was really upset at lunch because you told him he needed to put more energy into cleaning up his back sweep kick.”

“Was I right?” Shōta closed that cracked eye again. 

“Well yeah, that's part of why it bothered him,” Izuku said. “But then Uraraka told him, ‘Dadzawa just wants you to be able to kick their butts harder!’ And she did that fist pump thing she does when she gets all fired up?”

Hizashi grinned and demonstrated for Naoki. 

“Most of us called you Dadzawa after that, at least sometimes. Except Iida.”

“Of course not Iida.” Hizashi and Shōta both said it - Shōta with gratitude and Hizashi with exasperation.

“Iida's…a little serious,” Izuku explained to Naoki.

“A little?” Hizashi said with a snort. “He's as rigid as his armor.”

Shōta slouched against the counter. At least they all knew he cared for them. Hopefully they'd forgive him for leaving eventually. 

---

Today, July 7

Rat: Quite the justification for kidnapping a child.

Ruse: Well, if we're making false accusations, what were your justifications?

Ruse: Deprogramming? A game of keep away?

Ruse: Can we try this conversation over?

-

Rat: I don't see why I should. I'm seriously questioning your intentions at this point. 

Rat: I'm now seeing reports of a second Ruse. That would be Yamada-kun?

Rat: In addition to your lookalike, you now have a UA student and a UA staff member.

Ruse: I don't “have” them, they are here entirely by choice. 

Ruse: I wanted to have this conversation in person, but both of our phones are sufficiently secured.

Ruse: Let's stop pretending that you don't know who I am, Otōsan.

Rat: Very well, Shōta-kun. 

Ruse: Now say what you mean. 

Rat: I'm concerned that you may have been compromised in some way. 

Ruse: You can't be serious.

Rat: It's my responsibility to consider all possibilities.

Ruse: It isn't your responsibility to accept the worst possible conclusion.

Rat: I merely have yet to rule it out.

Chapter 33: Tsubasa

Summary:

“ULTRAVIOLET!” Shōta roared.

He launched himself off the top of the building. He collided with the woman just as she turned. She'd made it to the 7th floor out of 10 on the fire escape. The speed of their combined impact into the metal landing made the structure groan. 

She ran her tongue over her teeth, which were coated in blood. “Oh hello, Tsubasa. You didn't want me to play with your young protégé?”

Notes:

Tw medicalized manipulation/ experimentation referenced. To skip, stop after, "Hisoka frowned thoughtfully. 'Think you could do it again with someone else?'" Pick up again at the last section "Shōta opened his eyes." Summary in end notes.

“Sensei,” Naoki's voice was low and unsteady. None of his usual bluster. “I've got eyes on the person that was following me before. In Tokyo.”

Hitomi's voice clipped in immediately. “2 blocks northwest, Shōta-kun.”

Shōta was already running. “Hizashi, Izuku, hold back. Naoki, have they seen you?”

“Not sure.”

“Description?”

“Feminine, late 30s. 6 foot, 175 pounds. Moves like she's floating. Pale skinned. Long black hair. Purple eyes.”

Shōta's chest twinged and he forced himself to run faster. “Naoki. Hide. Now.”

“No! Hitomi, where are they? That's–”

Hizashi cut off at the dark giggle that went through the comms. It echoed off the buildings. 

“ULTRAVIOLET!” Shōta roared.

He launched himself off the top of the building. He collided with the woman just as she turned. She'd made it to the 7th floor out of 10 on the fire escape. The speed of their combined impact into the metal landing made the structure groan. 

She ran her tongue over her teeth, which were coated in blood. “Oh hello, Tsubasa. You didn't want me to play with your young protégé?”

“What do you want?” Shōta demanded, wrapping her up in his cloths.

“You're lost property, sweetheart,” Ultraviolet purred. “I'm here to reclaim you.”

“Did someone forget to teach you that you don't own people?” he growled, slamming her head back into the metal grating again.

Her eyes began to glow and the air around them thrummed. His mind slipped back to last night's dream. He was saying goodbye to his mother before his first visit to his grandfather.

The creak of the fire escape brought him back to the present. He activated Erasure and the glow dulled.

She laughed. “It's only a matter of time. Why fight it?”

He laughed back, tightening his cloths around her. “I've fought it my whole life. Why stop?”

“He'll outlive us all. Your struggle is meaningless, Tsubasa.”

She vomited sludge and disappeared. The warp quirk from Kamino.

He collapsed onto his back on the fire escape. “Fuck.”

“Sensei, is she gone?” Naoki whispered.

“Yeah, kid, she's gone for now,” he wheezed.

That pain in his chest wasn't from running, or from striking something on the fire escape. He could feel it fully now as her presence faded. He reached up, grasping something hard and thin. 

“Zashi, you close?” Shōta asked as his vision spun. 

“3 more blocks. What's wrong?”

“Dipped knife I think,” Shōta struggled to sit up against the brick wall despite brisking quicker spread. Maybe being upright would make it easier to stay awake longer. “Not alone…again...”

“Naoki!’ Hizashi cried. 

Naoki yelled back, “already moving!” 

“Can’ lose real ‘gain,” he mumbled.

“You won't!” Hizashi's voice was too strained to be reassuring.

The hammering of feet on the fire escape jostled him, but the pain kept him awake until Naoki was kneeling next to him. He sighed in relief before passing out against the teen. 

---

“I'm sorry, Stormcloud.” Mama adjusted the straps of his backpack. “You have to go. Just…remember who you are while you're gone. Do you understand?”

“‘Kay, Mama. I'll be good.” Shōta beamed at her.

Mama sniffled.

He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Why so sad?”

She held him tightly. “It's the first time you're going to meet your Gramps. It's a big trip. And long. I'll miss you.”

“Only 2 days, silly.” He planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Yuki!” Daddy sounded mad.

“I love Mama.”

“Mama loves you, sweet boy.”

---

Hisoka scowled at the door that had suddenly appeared in the space. Nothing fancy, it was just a standard wooden door. He just didn't know what it meant. This room had always been plain. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

He stood as tall as possible. Even though the red eyes didn't have a quirk effect here, they could still be intimidating. The scowl intensified. 

He slid the door open just enough to see out. 

The green kid, swathed in black fog, and a white-haired man in his 20s. 

“What are you doing here?” Hisoka growled. 

Izuku's eyes were so wide it looked painful. “Uh…I was worried about you, and the first time I talked to the other users of my quirk, I was in this floaty limbo space. Oh! This is First, by the way.”

“Yoichi,” the white-haired man said softly, with a slight bow of his head.

Hisoka's eyes flicked suspiciously to Yoichi, but returned immediately to Izuku. “And?”

“Yoichi could sense that you had a floaty limbo space too,” Izuku said.

“Liminal inner world,” Yoichi corrected gently.

“Right! I went to mine when I was unconscious, so Yoichi suggested we could try connecting them,” Izuku said. The kid was absolutely beaming. “And here we are!”

Hisoka dropped the theatrics and relaxed his posture. “Okay. And?”

Izuku slumped. Or seemed to. It was hard to tell with the fog. “We were hoping we could say or do something to help?”

Hisoka frowned. “He's caught up front with whatever is happening, kid. It's freaky, but there's nothing we can do.”

“What does that mean?” Izuku asked.

Before Hisoka could come up with some kind of explanation, Stormcloud wiggled out from around his legs. 

“Whoa, two new different people!” he cheered. “Can we play?”

Izuku's eyes widened at the 4-year-old version of Shōta in front of him.

“Great job squirt.” Hisoka flung the door the rest of the way open. “Come on in then.”

Stormcloud reached up. “Your hair is so green and fluffy! Can I touch it?”

Izuku crouched down and let Stormcloud run his hands through Izuku's hair. Stormcloud giggled with delight.

Hisoka rubbed his face and pointed across the room at Shōta, who was curled up in a ball and mumbling. “You know that guy. He's been freaking out like that for however long it's been since Ultraviolet.”

Izuku looked up. “The knife had a hallucinogen, not any kind of poison on it. I think it's quirk-based.”

Hisoka nodded. “Right.”

Stormcloud tugged on Izuku's fingers. 

“That's Stormcloud,” Hisoka explained. “He's 4 forever."

“And Hisoka is a big meanie now, just cuz he got to grow up.” Stormcloud pouted. “Says he had ‘spo'sibillies.”

“Responsibilities,” Hisoka huffed.

“Meanie.” Stormcloud stuck out his tongue and pulled on Izuku's hand with both of his own. “Wanna play?”

Izuku looked at Yoichi, who simply shrugged. Stormcloud paraded over to his handful of toys with his semi-willing new playmate. 

Hisoka examined Yoichi. “You ever done this door thing before?”

Yoichi smiled kindly. “No, we didn't even have our own space until very recently.”

Hisoka frowned thoughtfully. “Think you could do it again with someone else?”

---

Gramps held a mask over his face. He looked friendly. Almost.

“Just pretend you're smelling flowers.”

He didn't want to, but he told Mama he'd be good. 

---

Gramps held out the mask. 

“Put it on. You know the consequences of misbehaving now, don't you?”

He knew the consequences of listening too, but he was bigger now. He could remember he was Mama's first. 

---

He took the mask from Gramps’ hands and put it on without any instruction. He'd remember who he was. And he'd keep remembering until he was old enough to destroy it all. He was so close. He'd be a teenager next year. 

---

Shōta opened his eyes.

He was looking at Hibino Yutaka. 

Why was he looking at Hibino Yutaka?

“Welcome back,” he said gently, nudging Naoki with his foot while he took Shōta's pulse with two fingers. 

Naoki roused uncertainly before a relieved smile spread across his face. “Hey, boss. I've been with you the whole time, okay?”

Shōta scrutinized Naoki before uttering a raspy, “okay.”

Notes:

Summary of tough parts: 3 scenes. First when Shōta is 4, the last at 12, and one ambiguously in the middle. His outward compliance increases alongside his inward resistance.

*******

."He was looking at Hibino Yutaka. 

Why was he looking at Hibino Yutaka?"

- repeated from chapter 12 (Hibino is back by request from Stairs)

*******

“Did someone forget to teach you that you don't own people?”

- originally said to Nezu in chapter 13