Chapter Text
School was unbearably long on Friday. The clock seemed to have moved backward every time Shinsou spared it a glance, always making sure to wait until the teacher’s back was turned so as not to offend any of them. To make matters even worse, he had run into Counselor Himani, literally.
You see, Shinsou had only eaten lunch in the cafeteria twice since beginning high school, both occasions ending horribly. The first time was his first day of school and had ended with him having a panic attack in the bathroom. There had just been too many people; too many overlapping voices.
The second time Shinsou went to the cafeteria was a few weeks ago and was entirely against his will. His deskmate, (whose name he had never bothered to remember, but he recalled that it had some somber meaning and heritage that she was proud of even though it didn’t match her bubbly personality), had accidentally grabbed Shinsou’s bag instead of her own. He could have just waited for her to realize her mistake and come back to the classroom looking for Shinsou, but then the whole class would know that he stayed in their room during lunch instead of going to the cafeteria like every other student.
So, he had steeled himself, awkwardly saddling her too-heavy pink bag that was covered in little pins and charms, and navigated down the hallways towards an ocean of overlapping voices and clattering sounds of lunch trays being thrown about carelessly.
Shinsou had been trying to politely push his way through the crowd when he tripped over someone’s outstretched legs, catching himself on whoever was standing the closest which just so happened to have been Masaru. The boy was less than thrilled to be tackled by a stranger from behind and turned around quickly to shove Shinsou off.
However, he only ended up tripping on the still outstretched legs a second time, this time falling backward with nothing to catch him and landing roughly on his ass.
“Watch where you’re goin-” Masaru cut himself off, eyeing the sparkly pink bag that the other boy was still clutching, “Is that your bag?”
A silence hung in the air, and Shinsou could feel all eyes turn to watch the altercation like it was some little skit being put on just for their entertainment. Masaru, now practically standing over him, continued, “What do you think you’re doing trying to jump on top of me you fucking faggot?”
Shinsou’s mouth dropped open in shock. Homophobia should have been a problem of the pre-quirk era, however, it sadly wasn’t. It seemed that there would always be pockets of unaccepting people hidden away, waiting to be stumbled upon like landmines. Why someone would choose to focus on a stranger’s identity when there were real problems in the world they could devote their efforts to would always be beyond Shinsou’s understanding.
A quiet rage started to bubble up inside him as he stood to face Masaru, voice struggling to maintain its typically neutral tone, “I’m not trying to do anything except get past you, so why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” The students around them started to back away, almost forming a circle around the two boys to see how things would play out.
Masaru stepped forward so his chest almost bumped into Shinsou’s, forcing the other to take a small step back. He eyed him, a small smile creeping over his face, “I don’t like your tone, faggot.”
The taller boy closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and holding it. He didn’t want this to escalate. He didn’t want to make any more enemies. He exhaled, long and slow before opening his eyes to meet the red glow of the Masaru’s. He spoke as calmly as he could, “Ok, thats fine.”
Shinou turned to leave, but what had happened next was purely on instinct. He had never meant to start an all out fight, but when Masaru had grabbed his shoulder and roughly pulled Shinsou back, he went into panic mode, mind instantly reverting to the only defense it had learned over the years; he struck out, hitting the shorter boy square in the jaw.
What followed was a one-versus-four fight as Masaru’s friends jumped in, only ending after a teacher finally shoved his way through the jeering crowd of students so he separate the boys. By that time though, Shinsou was on the ground, huddled around the backpack of a girl whose name he couldn’t remember. He recalled that he had gotten a little of blood on one of her keychains… he still felt guilty about it.
So, for the past two years, he had devised various strategies to avoid not only the cafeteria but also other students during the thirty-minute lunch period. Sometimes he would hide in the bathroom, legs propped up on the toilet seat so he would be invisible to the outside world. Usually, he would read or do homework, never being able to bring himself to actually eat while sitting on top of the not-so-clean toilet seat in the not-so-clean bathroom.
Other times, he would sneak up to the school’s rooftop and enjoy his bento box in the sun, listening to the birds singing down below in the trees. However, it was still far too humid outside to do that today, so instead, he went with the third option. The game plan was to file out of the classroom with everyone else after the lunch bell rang, and then slip into the bathroom, waiting a few minutes before going back to the then-empty classroom and eating the bento box he had prepared this morning.
Except, as he rounded the corner to get to the classroom he made a fatal mistake of glancing behind him, having thought he saw someone run by in the corner of his eye, but where he should have been looking was straight ahead because he ended up walking straight into Counselor Himani, almost knocking both of them to the ground. At first, he had stupidly wanted to blame her for not wearing her noisy high heels which he could always hear approaching, but it obviously wasn’t her fault for wearing a very quiet pair of flats that day instead.
“Oh, Shinsou! I’m -” Himari cut herself off with a gentle laugh, “- so sorry, I didn’t even hear you.”
“Ah, no, no, I should have been paying more attention, sorry,” Shinsou stammered out, internally pleading to whatever deity that was probably laughing at him right now, Please don’t mention our next session. Please don’t mention or next session. Please don’t mention our next session.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Himari glanced behind Shinosu, peering down the hallway to look for any other students before continuing (fuck, he thought, she’s definitely going to mention it, isn’t she), “I know our mandatory sessions are almost over,” (yep, there it is.) “but I just wanted to let you know that I do have spots open for new patients if you decided to keep coming,” her smile was a little sadder this time, “just food for thought, ok?”
Shinsou was more than eager for this conversation to be over. Lying too easily, he quickly replied to fill the silence, “Yeah, of course, I definitely will. Uhm, I do have to run though, sorry, again for almost knocking you over.”
Shinsou turned back around, not even caring that he was leaving in the same direction that he had just come from, he needed time to recover in the safety of the men’s restroom. He heard Hinami calling a farewell and shot his hand behind him to wave an acknowledgement and goodbye.
So, instead of eating his bento in the classroom, Shinsou had found himself hiding in the bathroom once more, perching on the toilet seat with his long legs tucked uncomfortably under him. He didn’t dare eat any food in the bathroom, not with the toilets and the urinals so close.
Instead, he read news articles on his phone, pointedly ignoring the grumbling from his stomach. He had been meaning to do some more research on Eraserhead anyways, he wanted to know more about the man’s fighting style and it turned out to be the perfect way to pass the lunch period.
Apparently, Eraserhead was very popular under the parkour hashtags… there were tons of short clips featuring a blurry man clad in dark grey flying across rooftops and weaving through the skeletal structures of unfinished buildings like it was nothing. Shinsou would never admit it to the Underground Hero’s face, but he thought it was really cool and made a mental note to try to teach himself some of the easier moves to improve his own patrols.
However, as if fate had decided that the incident with Counselor Himari wasn’t enough bad luck for the day, it decided to throw one more curve ball before he could make it home. As he was getting ready to leave, Shinsou spotted two figures loitering near the gates of the school; Masaru and another boy he couldn’t quite place.
This can’t end well.
He walked silently, almost making it to the gate before Masaru’s voice called out in a fake friendly manner, “Shinsou! Long time no see…” He propped his arm against the brick wall that surrounded the school’s perimeter. The wall was more of a decorative addition then for actual protection considering how low it was.
Shinsou nodded a greeting to the two boys, keeping his head lowered and not slowing down as he hoped to pass them quickly and peacefully. A familiar voice made the rhythm of his feet pause though, “Not gonna stop and say ‘hi’ to an old friend?”
He could recognize that voice anywhere because for Shinsou, it was everywhere; in the back of his head, in his nightmares, in the hushed talking of his classmates… It was Kenzo’s voice.
Shinosu dared himself to look up from his shoes, to make eye contact with his old classmate from Middle School, to smile and pretend that time healed all wounds. Seconds passed by in silence as Shinsou gave himself a countdown… He would look up in 4 seconds.
He would make eye contact in 3 seconds.
He would see Kenzo in 2 seconds.
In 1 second he would, he would-
Kenzo looked so much different than Shinosu had remembered, but somehow, he also hadn’t changed at all over the last three years. He took an evening breath, forcing out a semi-friendly smile, “Hello, Kenzo.”
For what it was worth, the other boy seemed to smile back genuinely.
“Oh! I didn’t realize you two knew eachother,” Masaru feigned a delighted surprise, he knew damn well what he was doing, “Kenzo and I were just talking about quirks. Maybe you’d like to give us your input here, what do you think a villanous quirk is?”
That was another thing that Shinsou didn’t like about Masaru. He wasn’t cruel for any particular reason. Most kids would use information like this to try to leverage someone else to do their homework for them or steal the answers to an exam, but not Masaru… he just wanted to hold the information over Shinsou’s head, to let him know that he was the one in control, to make the other boy squirm.
Masaru eyed Shinsou dangerously. No doubt, whatever answer he gave, the other boy would find a way to twist it against him. He glanced at the gate again, he could just leave. Yeah, that would be the best course of action. Turning to Kenzo and distinctly ignoring Masaru, “Well, it was good catching up with you, but I have to go now.”
He walked off hastily before either boy could protest, forcing himself to remain composed until he rounded the corner. Only then did he allow himself to brake into a sprint, only then did he let his breath hitch and his hands shake.
~~~~~
Shinsou lay still in bed, impatiently waiting for his phone to gently chime, announcing that it was now midnight and he could begin his patrol. He wasn’t exactly sure why he needed to wait until 12:00 am exactly. He half-heartedly wondered what Counselor Hinami would think of his time-related obsession. His thoughts were abruptly cut off by the alarm. Although the chiming was quiet, it sounded like the loudest thing in the world inside his deathly still room and he quickly moved to silence it.
The vigilante slipped into his patrol suit (mentally noting that he would have to wash it at some point, along with all the other laundry that was piling up in his closet now) and then slipped out the window, readying himself for whatever the world would throw at him tonight. He took in a deep breath, letting the humid night air fill his lungs. It was finally Friday which meant he could stay out for longer than usual without risking falling asleep in class again.
Having just visited Naka and Minami the night before, Shinsou decided he would make the trip out to the Higashi Ward. As expected, Friday night was busy and the main streets were humming with life, but the vigilante avoided it all, the music, the lights, the lustrous side of the city, and instead weaved his way through the back roads where there was nothing but the dark side of city nightlife. Shinsou took the roads that people got dragged down, the roads covered in shadow and filled with danger.
He made it to the heart of Higashi after a few busy hours of stopping crime, almost getting stabbed, and having an old lady mistake him for a crook and hit him with her bag (that last part happened to Shinsou at least once a month). It didn’t help that he had been so twitchy with anxiety lately… in the old lady’s defense, it did make him look a little shady.
The vigilante made his way to a quieter street to catch his breath, looking up at the night sky and watching the stars swirl above him when an idea popped into his head. The surrounding buildings were roughly four to five stories tall, surely that was the perfect height for a novice to practice roof jumping?
And perhaps he wasn’t in the soundest of minds at the moment, perhaps his logic was a little muddled from the lack of sleep, but that had never stopped him before.
He looked around for the nearest fire escape, carefully making his way up the rusted bars of the ladder. The wind rushed at his face when he finally made it to the top of the ladder, four stories looked much taller once you got to the top. He gripped the last rung a little tighter before hauling himself the rest of the way onto the roof.
Maybe I should have started with a building that was a little shorter…
Carefully, Shinsou kneeled to the ground and crawled over to the ledge, hands now clutching the edge of the building so hard that his knuckles were probably turning white under his leather gloves. He slowly let go to take off his beanie and shove it in his pocket, letting the strong breeze from below tangle through his hair.
The vigilante stayed there like that for a few minutes, just getting used to the feeling of being so high above everything else before rising back to his feet. He took a few steps back, then paused, bouncing from side to side and shaking his hands in an attempt to muster up the courage to just run and jump. That’s all there was to it, right? Just run and jump, just run and jump, just run then, then jump?
The longer Shinsou thought about it, the more unsure of these simple steps he became. Jumping was such a broad term. Should he jump or leap? Was jumping different than leaping? Y’know what? Fuck it. His combat boots hit the concrete, eyes steady and focused on the shorter building that he was about to jump to. The wind threw a final toss of air at his face and he closed his eyes as his feet reached the ledge, but unfortunately, Shinsou had a freeze response to stress. His feet stopped, body still flying forward from the conservation of momentum… curse physics.
He squeezed his eyes closed tighter as the air rushed past him with a whistling noise, waiting for the harsh impact of concrete to crack his skull, but he suddenly jerked to a stop, hanging upside down midair and swinging back and forth violently. The vigilante chanced a glance down at the ground, he was suspended two stories up. Blood rushed to his head as he continued to nasueously spin. If he didn’t right himself soon, he might throw up.
Finally, the vigilante looked to see what had caught his foot; a grey fabric, wrapped diligently around his ankles. He recognized it instantly and more blood rushed to his cheeks, but this time from embarrassment. Just as he was wondering how he was supposed to right himself and climb the rope, he was jerked upwards half an inch, then another half an inch, and another. Thus began his slow and even more embarrassing rescue by the Underground Hero.
Once he could reach the ledge of the building, he hauled himself up the rest of the way, falling over onto the roof clumsily and desperately trying to keep his stomach acids down as the blood rushed out of his head. He shot a sheepish glance at the man who stood before him, then panicking, realized that his beanie was still in his back pocket. He ducked his head down, quickly retrieving the hat and shoving it over his exposed hair, not that it mattered at this point… the Hero had definitely seen it. Way to fucking go, you absolute dumbass.
Eraserhead’s arms were crossed and the disappointment written on his face was palpable. The Hero pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squinted shut, “And what do you think you were trying to do just now?”
“Aha, just uhh- I was just trying to,” Deep Purple gestured to the roof of the other building hoping that this little game of charades would help him, “I saw a video of you jumping and I just thought-”
Eraserhead cut him off abruptly, sarcasm tainting his words, “and you just thought you could copy a trained Hero’s moves on your first try?”
“Umm, yeah,” Shinsou admitted, trying to keep his voice steady. It wasn’t that Eraserhead was being particularly mean to him at all. He was actually handling this surprisingly well considering the vigilante had almost cracked his head open like an egg on the sidewalk just a few moments ago, but seeing the man disappointed in him still hurt.
“You didn’t think to try with a smaller building first? Or to find a training mat, or to use protective gear?” Eraserhead continued listing off all the things he had failed to consider.
Shinsou mentally scolded himself, his shoulders hitching up as he grew more frustrated at his own stupidity. A gnat flew by his face and he swatted at it angrily, “yeah, I’m sorry. I can handle myself though.”
Silence invaded the roof. Shinsou hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. Great fucking job.
“I‘m sorry…I didn’t mean-” he said quietly, voice tapering off as his eyes met the Hero’s combat boots. He swatted at the gnat again, less aggressively this time, mumbling under his breath, “god, these stupid gnats.”
The Underground Hero gave him a leveling stare like he was looking for something in the kid’s eyes; an answer to some question he wouldn’t voice. Eraserhead shuffled on his feet, audibly sighing, “Look kid, let me just teach you some basics so you don’t kill yourself, yeah? Just think of it as payment for helping me in the Drug Alley last night. Follow me, we need a safer training area.”
Aizawa leaped off the rooftop, hooking his capture weapon on a lampost and gracefully swinging to the ground, leaving Shinsou stunned. He stood for a minute alone and in the dark, letting his brain catch up. Wait.
Did Aizawa call him ‘kid’? Did he figure out he lied about his age? Was it his hair? How the fuck would he tell from just his hair though?
“You coming, Deep Purple?” Eraserhead called out from below, snapping the vigilante out of his paranoid spiral. He hastily made his way for the fire escape, climbing down it so quickly that he almost lost his grip a few times. The Hero probably didn’t mean anything by the little slip-up… he probably only said ‘kid’ because Shinsou was visibly younger than him. Despite all the logical reasoning, the vigilante was still on edge.
Unfortunately, the gnat from the roof had not only followed Shinsou’s sweaty body down the fire escape, but it had brought friends with it. He noted that he would have to add new bug repellant to the pouches on his belt because his obviously wasn’t working anymore. He thought briefly about asking Eraserhead if could borrow his bug repellent (he must have some on him because the gnats seemed to be leaving him alone), but he ultimately decided to leave the matter be.
After a few minutes of walking, the duo reached a park in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood, and several hours easily passed as Eraserhead instructed Deep Purple on the basics of parkour. By the end of their time together, Shinosu could jump from the elevated platform of the playground and land with a smooth roll which helped distribute the impact safely across his body. He had also learned how to properly stretch before and after the exercises so as not to pull any muscles mid-jump.
Eraserhead stood from where he had been crouching on the ground, inspecting the vigilante’s form and offering critiques. He stretched his back, suppressing a yawn, “Alright, that’s all I have time for tonight.”
Shinsou landed one final roll before standing and wiping the sweat from his forehead. The humidity had intensified as the night wore on and the layers of clothing that his patrol outfit was comprised of didn’t help. He poked his boot at a wood chip that made up the flooring of the playground, “Thank you again, Eraserhead.”
“Mhm,” was the gruff grunt he got in response. Then, for a moment, the Underground Hero looked at him, Shinsou had noticed this look directed towards him whenever the other man thought he wasn’t paying attention. It was almost as if he was observing, curious, looking for something in the way the kid moved. Then, the moment was over and Eraserhead’s face shifted back to its neutral mask, “We can pick back up next time I see you around. Don’t get yourself killed in the meantime.”
Pick back up? Shinsou wanted to ask what the Hero meant by that… did he intend to keep helping Shinsou? Why? Before he could respond though, Eraserhead was already swinging away with his capture scarf and all Shinsou could do was stand there dumbfounded and admire the man’s agility.
There was another thing… the gnats had gone away. Shinsou couldn’t pinpoint when they had left, but they no longer crowded around the edges of his vision. It was quiet without them buzzing in his ear. It was nice.
~~~~~
Saturday was rainy, a day of storm clouds and whipping winds (which meant that work would be slow. Well, work was always slow, but especially so on days like these). Shinsou clocked in at 6:55 am… 5 minutes early like usual, dropping his bag on the ground behind the counter and kicking it unceremoniously under the register to mingle with the dusty floor and cobwebbed corners.
He set about his usual routine, walking the perimeter of the small store to see if anything was majorly out of place from the day before. The displays looked as good as they could for a dingy resale shop, so Shinsou flicked on the neon ‘Open’ sign in the window and unbolted the doors.
His fingers expertly flipped through a discount movie bin, searching for something to fit the general mood of the day. The rain clattered noisily on the roof and a rumble of thunder seemed to shake the stale air, momentarily interrupting the electrical buzz of the neon Open sign. He paused his search to rub his hands together, blowing hot air on them. He would have to dig the space heater out of storage in the back for this uncharacteristically cold spring day.
After a few more moments of indecision, Shinsou settled on ‘Weathering With You’ for the day’s movie. It had some rain in it and the mood of the film seemed fitting, slightly depressing but with an overall happy ending.
He fed the DVD to the player, listening to the machine whirr the disk back and forth inside its belly before finally connecting to the screen overhead and projecting the opening scene of the film.
Harold came in 5 minutes late like usual, looking like he had rolled out of bed 6 minutes ago. He clocked in, fingers rapidly hitting the keyboard with the precision of a seasoned PC Gamer before craning his neck up toward the tiny tv screen and squinting. “What movie d’ya pick today?” he shouted to Shinsou even though he was only about 10 feet away.
“Weathering With You… thought it would compliment the day’s mood.”
Before Harold could complain about the movie choice, the doorbell rang, signaling that a customer had come in. It was one of their regulars, Mr. Suzuki, who had probably watched every movie that the store had to offer. Luckily for ‘Movies-Music-Books-&-More’, Mr. Suzuki had a poor memory and was known to re-rent the same DVD not even a week after he had first watched it. It’s a miracle he remembered to return everything on time.
“Good Morning, Mr. Suzuki,” Shinsou called loudly from behind the register.
“Huh?” the older man cupped his hand around his ear, the rain thrumming loudly as he paused with the door held open, “What’d you say?”
“GOOD MORNING, MR. SUZUKI,” Shinsou yelled this time, earning a muffled laugh from Harold.
“Ah, not a good mornin’ with all this rain,” Suzuki grumbled, finally entering the store only to shuffle down an aisle, disappearing from sight. Shinsou could vaguely hear him complaining about something still, but decided to tune it out.
“So,” Harold started, hitting Shinsou over the head with a rolled-up movie poster to get his attention, “What has the little man been doing lately?”
“I swear on all things unholy, I will murder you and hide the body parts if you call me that again,” He smiled threateningly although there was no real menace behind it, “And I haven’t been up to much… just school and stuff.”
“Oh, and stuff. Now that’s interesting, do elaborate.”
“Uhh, I don’t know,” Shinsou thought for a moment, as private as he typically was with his personal life, he always felt like he could talk to Harold without being judged, “Still trying to beat the Yiga Clan in Breath of the Wild and I’ve got more stupid homework from Hinami.”
“Oh, Hinami’s your super hot shrink, right?” Harold surprisingly blew over the video game comment which Shinsou was hoping he would latch onto.
You see, he had never intended to tell Harold about the mandatory Counseling, but Shinsou had terrible luck so, it slipped up at one point, and to his surprise, Harold was surprisingly casual and accepting of that too. However, the only drawback was that his coworker would only refer to Hinami as Shinou’s ‘Super Hot Shrink’.
“Yes, Hinami is my therapist,” he patiently corrected, “I only have a few more visits left though.”
“Hmm, so you’re still gonna quit after the mandatory sessions are up?”
“I’m not quitting, I’m just not continuing… and besides, I’m fine. I don’t even need these sessions,” Shinsou grabbed a packet of disinfectant wipes and started cleaning the register with an intense concentration, hoping Harold would drop the topic and not push any further.
Harold rolled his eyes, stubbornness beginning to settle in his features which was bad news for Shinsou. It’s not that Shinsou didn’t appreciate his coworker’s concern, it just wasn’t any of Harold’s business. Luckily, he was saved by Mr. Suzuki, whose gravely voice yelled from one of the aisles, “Hey, Did you move Stephen King out of Horror?!?!”
Shinsou opened his mouth to answer but was cut off, “YES, HE’S IN INTERNATIONAL MOVIES NOW,” Harold screamed right next to his ear, the large man’s voice practically shaking the store’s windows.
“That’s stupid, he makes horror movies so should keep ‘em in horror. I don’ know why people have to go ‘round changin’ things when they were fine before…” Mr. Suzuki’s complaining voice traveled from one end of the store to the other, muffled by the aisles and the pounding of the rain outside.
It was getting colder in the small building, its old insulation failing to keep in what little heat the radiator could produce. Shinsou dug his sweat jacket out of his backpack, pulling the sleeves down to cover his fingers, “Hey, how was that movie you saw last Friday by the way?” A casual dialogue change. Harold didn’t notice at all, instantly taking the bait.
“Oh, it was epic! It had that one American actor in it… ah, I forgot his name, but he played as…”
Shinsou tuned him out, for the most part, only paying attention to keywords and occasionally nodding. Mr. Suzuki shuffled up to the counter, a stack of movies in his old wrinkly hands. He casually tossed them on the counter, probably not even realizing how loudly they hit the surface due to his faulty hearing aids. Shinsou didn’t mind though, Mr. Suzuki, despite his outward grumpiness, was a kind man.
“Find some good ones?” He asked, beginning to scan the tags as Harold continued to ramble on behind him.
“Mhh,” Suzuki grunted out what Shinsou took to be a ‘yes’ and finished scanning and bagging the remaining DVDs.
“Alrighty, you know the drill, 1300¥ for the two-day rental and an additional 250¥ for every late day afterward,” Shinsou repeated the mandatory mantra as Mr. Suzuki nodded, uncrumpling his bills and gathered his change with old shaky hands.
Mr. Suzuki cleared his throat, “How’s your old man doin’?”
“Ah, he’s alright I guess. Always at work, you know how it is.” Shinsou indulged in the small talk so the older customer wouldn’t feel pressured to count his change faster, “How are the grandkids? I saw some cartoons in your stack today, are they coming over for a visit?”
“Ah yeah, they are… means I gotta stop and get some sweets. Kids are so expensive and spoiled these days… they always gotta have their ice cream,” he complained half-heartedly, knowing full well that he was the one who spoiled his own grandchildren, a sly small creeping over his face, “right, here’s 1300¥ exact, no need for the receipt.”
“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you next weekend Mr. Suzuki… Oh, and tell the grandkids I said hi!” Shinsou waved his goodbye, watching as the older customer opened his umbrella before stepping out into the rain. He turned around to find Harold unnervingly close, “What the hell, dude, back up…”
“You haven’t even been listening to me, have you?” Harold asked, mildly hurt. “Y’know, what? You need to get in one of those time loops… it would solve all your problems,” he said insightfully, providing no more context.
“What?”
“Time loops,” he said impatiently as he motioned his finger in a circle, “Y’know, where you get to re-live the same event over and over and over and over and-”
“Ok, ok, yeah, I know what a time loop is,” Shinsou glared. He was getting annoyed, but he tried to hide it because he knew it would only egg Harold on if he showed it. He grabbed a roll of 50% stickers from under the counter, picking at the edge of one of them with his short fingernails until it started to give way, “How would a time loop fix all my problems though, huh?”
“Think about it,” Harold pulled a rolling chair out from under the desk, sitting down heavily in it, “If you make a mistake like, oh gee, I don’t know, maybe not listening to your awesome coworker tell you about the greatest movie in the history of film, then you could just re-live the conversation and actually pay attention.”
Shinsou rolled his eyes dramatically. Meanwhile, Harold stretched his legs out in front of him, before propelling them backward, sending both him and the rolling chair flying past Shinsou and into a movie display that the younger employee had just fixed.
Shinsou shot his unhelpful coworker a glare, “You’re fixing that. Also, how would you propose, oh wise wizard, that I get into a time loop? Hmm?”
Harold began to lazily kick the scattered movies into a pile on the floor, before bending over to pick them up, “How the hell would I know… oh, you know, I watched this super fucked up movie once where a guy could go back in time, but he had to die first. So maybe don’t try it that way. You’d probably have better luck trying to jump into a wormhole or something.”
“Pfft,” Shinsou laughed, “I’m pretty sure jumping into a wormhole would kill you too though. Also, what kind of movies are you watching? I’ve never even heard of that.”
“That’s because you’re uncultured,” Harold indiscriminately placed the movies back on the display, completely ignoring that they were supposed to be grouped by genre, and instead opting to throw horror next to romance next to mystery next to… you get the point. “If you let me pick the morning movies then maybe I could teach a few things, Young Padawan.”
“Firstly, never call me that again. Secondly, you could pick the morning movies if you actually got here on time.”
“As Einstein said,” Harold straightened back up, putting on an air of wisdom, “time is irrelevant.”
“Uhh, that’s not what he said… it’s time is relative,” Shinsou added the newly discounted movies to a display in front of the counter, making sure to hide the 50% sticker roll lest Harold try to abuse it for his newest video game obsession.
“You calling me a liar?”
“No, I’m calling you an idiot.”
Outside, the rain continued a thunderous descent, and the rest of Shinsou’s shift was spent trying to win dumb arguements with Harold, but to him, it was the start of a perfect Saturday.
~~~~~
Officially, it was the worst Saturday that Shinsou had experienced in a while. He was supposed to be on the top of his game on Saturday nights. It was supposed to be his time to rule the streets without the constraints of school schedules. However, things were going horribly and the vigilante honestly just wanted to call it quits early and go home.
For one, it was somehow still raining. His patrol outfit, which he had forgotten to wash, was thoroughly soaked now, the combination of rainwater and body heat only magnifying the musty stench. Not to mention, the cotton sweatshirt held a ridiculous amount of water, the added weight only tiring him out quicker.
Secondly, those god-damned gnats were back, crowding around his head, always darting out of sight before he could swat them away. Shinsou was convinced that they were the same ones from the rooftop yesterday night. Perhaps he had offended some Gnat Diety.
In terms of crime, it was busy… very busy. Deep Purple was struggling to keep up with everything, especially since his attention was split between fighting the criminal in front of him, swatting the gnats from his face, and constantly glancing behind his back. He was being followed. He was sure of it. By whom, he didn’t know, but they had been jumping from shadow to shadow all night long when he wasn’t looking.
Currently, Shinsou was fighting one-on-one with a wanna-be bag snatcher. They were both having a terrible time, each taking brutal punches to the face, both of their forms sloppy with exhaustion. Deep Purple would come out on top though, he always found a way to.
Observing the brawl from above was Eraserhead. He had just been passing through the area, but seeing the young vigilante brought back some concerns from their prior night together. The Underground hero settled on the ledge to watch Deep Purple fight. In his idleness, Eraserhead recalled how twitchy the kid had been yesterday, how he kept waving his hand as if there was something in his face, and how the bags beneath his eyes had grown a deeper shade of purple than his own.
Then, he got around to recalling how he had run into Deep Purple in the Naka Ward’s drug alley.
The more Eraserhead watched the sloppily thrown punches and nervous twitches, the more he started to worry that his suspicions might be right. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a vigilante grew dependent on a substance that was only found in the darkest of alleys. Eraserhead had given Deep Purple the same warning that he gave all the vigilantes he caught.
“…the moment you step out of line, if you go too far, if I even think you are at risk of becoming an issue, I will not hesitate to bring you down.”
It was a shame honestly, Eraserhead hated to admit it, but he had taken a liking to the kid. Something about Deep Purple reminded him of his younger self, but he wouldn’t risk innocent lives… the kid had become a liability.
The Underground Hero stood slowly, knees popping. Below him, the vigilante had finally knocked out the purse-snatcher although he looked seconds away from passing out himself. Just as Eraserhead was preparing to swing down and bring both criminal and vigilante in, his phone went off. It was set to vibration, but the pattern was an emergency call.
“Shit,” he whispered, voice lost to the wind and rain. Deep Purple would have to wait.