Chapter Text
"Well well well… if it isn't the bane of Tokyo's criminal underground. Shouta Aizawa, in the flesh… or should I say EraserHead?"
The voice was a feminine alto. Warm and smooth, though more like velvet than silk.
It was somewhat familiar…
And definitely unexpected in a place like this.
Shouta Aizawa lifted his head, eyebrows perking up slightly as his gaze darted to the right.
A woman was standing beside him, one hand perched on her hip, while the other rested on the polished granite bartop. She was young. Not more than twenty-two-or-three, much like Shouta himself. Seafoam hair framed her pert features, and there was just a touch of makeup highlighting her big emerald eyes. She was short and slender, and rather buxom, wearing a fitted white blouse with suspenders, and high rise double-button trousers with wide, drapey legs.
It took him a moment to identify the woman currently divorced from her brightly colored hero attire. But recognition bloomed in time to save them both a moment of embarrassment.
It was Ms. Joke.
The classic orange bandana was always a dead giveaway, but here, Shouta was required to try just a little harder. He set down his drink as he studied her for a moment, eyebrows arching slightly over hooded eyes.
“Emi Fukukado… The Smile Hero.”
"None other than," she replied with a nod and a slight bow, fingers alighting on her chest in a jaunty flourish.
It had been awhile since he’d last seen her. Shouta often patrolled at night, while she did most of her heroing during the day. In that regard, it made sense to see her in civilian clothes, given the late hour. But the sight altogether was jarring nonetheless. Especially considering the crowd this bar happened to cater to.
"If you're here to find a date, I've got bad news for you," Shouta said flatly, eyes briefly scanning a room conspicuously devoid of women.
At this, Emi let out a sputtering laugh.
"Me? Looking for a man? Please."
"Just as well in this particular establishment…"
His voice remained a practiced neutral as his gaze came to rest on Emi once again.
"Well tonight I'm just here to give moral support to a friend of mine,” Emi replied casually. “But, he's made his move, and now I'm all alone in a sea of gay men." She released a dramatic sigh. "But… I'm not quite ready to go home. Thought I'd have one more for the road."
Shouta glanced at the empty stool beside him, nudging his head towards it. "As you can see, it's empty."
"Well, I'll just be your interim date then," she said, climbing up and signalling to the bartender. "Cosmo, please!"
Shouta leaned over the bar and reached for his whiskey neat, taking a slow swallow and setting it down.
"So," Emi said, tilting her head and glancing up at Shouta with a cheeky smile. "I went looking for an empty seat at a gay bar, and who do I stumble upon but the Erasure Hero himself. I’m shocked."
"Don't act surprised," Shouta said, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah," Emi laughed, lightly waving the notion away. "You're right… I'm not. I always figured you were gay. You couldn't be less interested in women, and you're one of the only guys I've ever seen who hasn't blushed at least once at Midnight's… remarkably self-aware advances." At this, her cheeks went a little pink, and she pursed her lips as her eyes narrowed.
The expression passed almost as soon as it came. Her bright, clever-eyed whimsy returned, accompanied by a smile with its toe just on the threshold of a grin as she studied Shouta’s demeanor with open curiosity.
"I might have been asexual, you know," Shouta replied sardonically.
"I had considered that possibility. But either way, you're the furthest thing from straight."
The bartender approached Emi and set down a martini glass full of ruby red liquid garnished with an orange twist. She picked it up, slotting the stem between her thumb and index finger as she tested the cosmo with a light sip.
"So… you've actively put thought into my sex life," Shouta said, eyes fixed without particular aim on the row of glass bottles behind the bar.
"Sure! Why not?"
"Because it's weird."
"Nonsense." Emi dismissed the subtle accusation with shooing fingers. "Everyone thinks about stuff like that."
"I don't."
"Now now, don't pretend," she chided. "It doesn't suit you at all."
Shouta sighed. "Ms. Fukukado—"
"Call me Emi."
"I think that's a little too informal."
"Not at all," she replied impassively. Her pink-glossed lips twisted into a wry smirk as she nudged his shoulder playfully. "What's a first-name-basis between a gay man and a lesbian?"
Shouta's eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced over, studying the woman beside him. Her smirk peeled back into a cheeky grin.
"Ah," he said. "So you're not just an ally."
"How on earth did you never notice?” she laughed.
Shouta's breath hitched as he rolled his eyes. "I told you, I don't think about shit like that. Not unless I'm interested, and you—as you pointed out so flippantly—aren't exactly my type."
"Well, now you're just pretending to be offended," Emi teased. "But no, I've never been interested in you either. Or any man." She shrugged. "As it turns out, a room full of gay men is remarkably convenient for a lady who'd rather not receive attention from the opposite sex."
"Yet here you are, talking to me," Shouta said flatly.
"I admit, I'm probably not the person you came here for, but I'd like to point out that you're the one who told me this seat wasn't taken."
Shouta shook his head as he tipped the last of the whiskey into his mouth and swallowed, letting out his breath in a long sigh.
"Don't worry," he finally muttered. "I'm not here for that. Not tonight anyway."
"…Ah…" Emi's expression softened a little. A few wordless moments passed as she glanced towards the door, and the line of umbrellas drying in the entryway. "I guess it is raining pretty hard out there…"
The tempo of their exchange stumbled jarringly out of rhythm.
Shouta sighed, turning a glare towards the glass bottles as he leaned a little heavier into his arms. "No shit.”
"…I suppose…” she ventured a little further, “...if I were trying to warm up, I'd drink my whiskey neat too."
Shouta's gaze softened as it fell to the bartop. He balanced a mouthful of words on the tip of his tongue, but none of them carried the proper gravity her concern seemed to beg for. They were too dismissive. Maybe even a little acidic. So he swallowed them down, the empty air between them filling instead with bluesy guitar notes and the syncopated groove of drum beats, occasionally punctuated with the clinks and taps of other patrons' glasses, and the murmur of conversation rising and falling dissonantly.
After a moment, he looked up and signaled to the bartender, who brought him another pour.
"When was the last time you had a hot shower?" Emi asked at length.
"I bathe regularly, thanks."
"In the nearest sink, no doubt. Well… unless you're commuting to a public bathhouse everyday, but that doesn't seem like your style—I mean all that travel, what a waste of time, right?"
"Ms. Fuku—"
"I told you, it's Emi!" she insisted. Shouta could feel the toe of her shoe press into his calf. He glanced to the side again to find her leaning over the bar with her head tipped playfully, mouth spread into an unflappable grin. "Don't be such a wet blanket!"
Shouta sighed. "Look, I'm just killing time while I wait for my sleeping bag to dry, all right?"
"Speaking of wet blankets," Emi muttered. She took a sip of her drink and sighed after the swallow. "Eraser..."
"What," he replied sullenly.
"What's the point of drying your sleeping bag if it's just gonna get wet again twenty minutes from now?"
"It was dirty. I washed it. Just because I've chosen to live on the streets doesn't mean I've lost all sense of personal hygiene and cleanliness.”
"So…" she said, the intensity of her grin fading as she lifted her drink and took another sip. "Where do you sleep during the rainy season?"
"Depends."
"You obviously have money if you're in a place like this," she observed, waving a hand vaguely at the rest of the club. "Even bottom shelf drinks aren't cheap, but don't think I didn't notice the bartender pouring Yoichi Single Malt into your glass."
"If I'm gonna drink, I might as well enjoy it," Shouta replied, eyebrows arching slightly.
Emi rolled her eyes. "Come on, kid, I'm being serious for once."
"You do realize I'm older than you."
"Barely. And anyway, that doesn't make you more mature," she grumbled.
"It's just easier to stay mobile," Shouta shrugged sullenly. "Besides. Living out there, in the thick of it… I see things the other heroes miss."
"What about you though?" she asked, poking him in the ribs.
Shouta arched sideways and batted her hand away. "What about me?"
"If you don't take care of yourself, you're not gonna last as a hero."
"And you would know?"
"Call it intuition."
"Emi," Shouta sighed.
"Finally!" she grinned, smacking Shouta in the arm. He barely managing to suppress a groan of exasperation as the lines of his frown deepened.
"I appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced," he finally managed.
"Don't be an idiot. You're gonna get sick. How the hell are you gonna fight villains from a hospital bed?"
"I'll be fine."
"Come home with me."
Shouta's eyebrows shot to the ceiling as he glanced her way again. She maintained that infuriating grin and breezy confidence that was really beginning to get on his nerves.
"No thanks," he said firmly.
"Yes thanks."
"Ms. Joke," Shouta said, sitting up straight again.
"Now you're regressing," she pouted. "Not even using my name anymore? That hurts."
"Look—"
"Shoutaaaa..." she said, grabbing him by the shoulder and giving him a gentle shake. "Rain's coming down by the keg-ful. It's not like I'm asking you to move in. Give yourself a break, for god's sake. There are other heroes you know. Let them pick up a little slack for once."
Shouta's glare softened, though his frown didn't fade.
"Have you been talking to Mic and Midnight?" he asked.
"What can I say? We've gotten pretty close over the last couple of years."
"They worry too much. I can take care of myself."
"Of course you can," she replied with a shrug. "Doesn't mean you have to sleep outside when the weather sucks."
Shouta grumbled a few choice words under his breath as his frustration mounted.
"Look," Emi said with a pout. "I'm gonna be up all night worrying about you getting the sniffles outside, and then I won't be able to do my job tomorrow. Think of all those people I won't be able to help, just because I'm too tired to make jokes." She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Awfully selfish of you, if you ask me."
"Shut up," Shouta rolled his eyes as he turned to face the bar again and lifted his tumbler to take another drink.
"Then it's settled!" Emi sat up and clasped her hands together, grinning triumphantly.
"Emi…" Shouta set down his whisky, untasted. She gave him a hearty pat on the back.
"I'll order a ride, and we can finish our drinks while we wait."
"I said no," he growled.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not taking no for an answer." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "Friends don't let friends self-destruct."
"For god's sake," he hissed in exasperation. "I'm not—"
"You'll thank me later, you know."
"You hardly know me, this is the pinnacle of recklessness."
"Oh please," she waved dismissively. "I could take you if you tried anything. And anyway, you're not going to, so it's fine."
Shouta stared wordlessly for several seconds as she tapped at her phone with enthusiasm. Finally, he let out his pent breath in a soft laugh of incredulity. A real laugh, even if there was a bitter edge to it. He shook his head and rolled his eyes as he lifted his glass again and took a deep swallow.
"Yes! I finally squeezed a laugh out of you!" Emi grinned. "And I didn't even have to use my quirk."
"Like you could use it on me."
"I'm well aware, you jerk."
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Art by my amazing bang partner, @redpepperink!! (https://bsky.app/profile/redpepperink.bsky.social)