Archive of Our Own

    It was like watching a dog sit at a door and wait for its master to come home. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring up at it with eyes as big, bright, and colorful as traffic lights. He hadn’t gotten up once since checking his email and seeing that the package he had ordered off of amazon.co.jp was going to arrive sometime today. His dedication was so that he hadn’t even gotten up to pee. He whimpered every now and again, and Mirai could so perfectly picture a little golden tail wagging happily on Hizashi’s backside. It was almost adorable, but mostly, it was pathetic, and Mirai couldn’t believe how quickly Hizashi had let this “Aizawa” person become his new master.

    Then again, Mirai had never been a dog person. He loved to justify this fact to every potential top he met by telling them he was a cat. The little tease worked far more often than Hizashi thought it should.

    At about 12:07 in the afternoon, there was finally a knock on the door. Hizashi scrambled to his feet, and Mirai neglected to mention that he had actually been drooling like a dog before he opened the door. He tripped over his own two feet and tried to save himself by leaning nonchalantly on the doorframe and flashing an award-winning smile at the dark-haired delivery man standing on his porch.

    “Are you Yamada Hizashi?” the man asked in a tone that suggested he would rather be doing anything other than delivering packages to hole-in-the-ground apartments outside Musutafu city.

    “Yep! That’s me!” Hizashi answered, enthusiastic enough to make the man flinch.

    The man held a package and a clipboard with a pen attached to it out to Hizashi with an expression as blank as a new piece of paper. “Sign here,” he said.

    Hizashi ignored the existence of the clipboard entirely. “I was. Um. I was thinking about asking you out, but then I realized how stupid that would be,” he said, far quieter than was normal for him, before backpedaling hard. “So do you wanna hang out sometime?”

    “No,” the man said. “Just sign for the package.”

    “Well, you see, the thing is—I had a dream about you last night. And a couple nights before that. I saw you in my dream before I met you in real life. Is that weird?”

    “No, not really,” the man replied.

    Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

    “Yeah. There’s a subspace highway in your head that I like to use to get around. You can go like five kilometers in fifteen minutes,” the man said.

    “Oh,” Hizashi said, furrowing his brow. “Well, that’s kind of weird.”

    “I was joking,” the man said. “Now will you sign for whatever the hell this is already?”

    “But if I sign for it, you’ll leave,” Hizashi said, frowning.

    “Yeah, that’s kind of how this works.”

    Hizashi knew he was losing his audience and wasn’t quite sure how to get it back, so in a last-ditch effort, he brought up something he was sure he would most likely regret. “I guess you don’t remember me, but we met at Nemuri’s party the other night.”

    “Oh yeah,” the man replied, “you were the guy who like, infodumped to me about Pac-Man, right?”

    “What? No way!” Hizashi exclaimed, laughing awkwardly and running a hand through his hair. “That was some other guy, I was… some other guy…”

    The delivery man sighed heavily. “Look, if I agree to hang out with you, will you sign for the stupid package?”

    Hizashi’s face lit up like the sun, so much so that the delivery man thought he was going to go blind looking at that smile. But maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad.

    Hizashi grabbed the pen attached to the clipboard and signed his name on the dotted line, then took his package from the delivery man and promptly tossed it behind him, into his apartment. “So, the first round of the Musutafu Battle of the Bands is tonight, and me and my guys are competing. You should come see us. And then we can… do stuff. Go do something. Afterwards. Maybe.”

    The delivery man raised an eyebrow. “You’re in a band?”

    “Yeah!” Hizashi said excitedly. “We’re terrible! You should come see us!”

    At that, Hizashi swore he saw the man crack a smile. “Sure. I’ll see you there.”

    With that, the man turned away, ready to leave, but Hizashi called him back. “Wait! Can I like—have your number, or something?”

    The man wrote his number on one of the pieces of paper that was on the clipboard, then ripped it out and handed it to Hizashi, along with the name Aizawa Shouta.

    “See you,” Aizawa said again, and before Hizashi could properly process what had just happened, the man of his dreams had disappeared.

---

    From the minute the event started, the Musutafu Battle of the Bands was already the worst thing that had ever happened to Hizashi.

    It was the perfect combination of every gag-me-with-a-spoon bad things that could have happened that night. Hizashi’s band, titled Present Mic, was running up against the Vigilantes, a band who was way cooler and totally more popular than Present Mic was. Not only that, but Tensei was nervous as hell, and Nemuri was pissed about something (though, when was she ever not?). It didn’t help that Hizashi was distracted as all get out, but that was mostly due to the single biggest problem of the night so far.

    Aizawa was sitting in the front row of the venue’s makeshift mezzanine, stoic and unimpressed as always. But it wasn’t Aizawa that Hizashi was worried about; it was the people Aizawa was sitting with. If Hizashi was a gay disaster, then his drunk roommate Mirai was the damn Gay Apocalypse, and he had a penchant for stealing other people’s men. Tonight, though, his sights were set on Nemuri’s current boyfriend Toshinori, and took every opportunity he had to subtly touch the man and less subtly flirt with him. Hizashi hadn’t decided whether that was fortunate or unfortunate yet.

    But the real kicker was Yu. Takeyama Yu was Hizashi’s third-year high school student girlfriend, or his “fake high school girlfriend” as everyone around him so courteously called her. She was eighteen and he was twenty-three, so it wasn’t that weird. But it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going out with her anymore. He just… hadn’t actually… told her that yet.

    Or Aizawa, for that matter. And that was where tonight’s biggest problem lay. Because Yu was sitting right next to Aizawa. And they were talking. And Yu was obsessed with Hizashi. And she was undoubtedly going to say something that he was going to regret.

    He was so wrapped up in his own head, watching his two current romantic interests vaguely interact with each other from where he stood backstage, that he didn’t even really hear how radical their competition sounded. The first song they played was bad enough as it was, and Mirai certainly did Present Mic no favors by heckling the Vigilantes into playing another song with the explicit intention of telling him “We hate you, please die.” That song was even more of a banger than the first, and now Present Mic was screwed for sure.

    Yu had been talking to Aizawa for some time now, and Aizawa clearly hadn’t been listening to a word she had said. Or acknowledged her general existence. So when Hizashi saw him turn his head towards her and actually start to pay attention, that’s when he knew he had to intervene before something awful happened.

    “Alright, man up you two! We don’t have time to sit in wallow in our own depression and anxiety!” Hizashi scolded as he grabbed his bass and turned around to face Tensei and Nemuri. “We’ve gotta get on that stage and give it all we’ve got! Right! Now! ” He didn’t allow for protest before running on stage, so Nemuri and Tensei had no choice but to follow him.

    “So our next band is Present Mic, or whatever. I guess. Go for it,” the announcer said half-heartedly before walking off the stage. Nemuri didn’t wait for him to be gone before she started pounding away on her drums, and Tensei and Hizashi followed her beat.

    But Present Mic only got through half of their song before their little concert was brought to a screeching stop. It was like something out of a nightmare—something so frighteningly unrealistic that Hizashi was sure he must be dreaming or daydreaming or dissociating, or maybe all three. There was no way what he was seeing right now could be real.

    All of a sudden, a terrifying figure crashed the party, bursting in by making a hole in the roof and falling to the stage along with the debris. The dude had hair the color of the sky right before a thunderstorm and skin that was as crusty and gray as dried Moon Sand. Hizashi had to wonder if the guy was even human. He looked more like a zombie.

    “Yamada Hizashi!” he cried as he fell, then landed and stared pointedly at Hizashi with the most intense look of rage that Hizashi had ever seen. “It is I, Shigaraki Tomura! Consider our fight begun!”

    Like an exaggerated cartoon character, the crusty creeper wound up his fist quite literally, spinning his arm around like a windmill while running towards Hizashi.

    Panicked, Hizashi dropped his guitar and yelled first “What did I do!?” followed by “What do I do!?” as Shigaraki got closer and closer to him.

    In response to the clearly rhetorical question, Mirai let go of Toshinori’s arm for just long enough to grip the rail of the mezzanine with both hands and yell back at Hizashi to “Fight!!”

    Instinct took over then, and before Hizashi knew what he was doing, he wound up his own fist and sent it flying into Shigaraki’s face before Shigaraki could land a hit on him. Shigaraki went flying backwards, off of the stage, and Hizashi followed him without really knowing why. He jumped down and loomed over Shigaraki, presuming him to be unconscious. That was, until Shigaraki started chuckling in a tone that sounded as raspy as his skin looked.

    In a moment, Shigaraki was on his feet again, looking Hizashi up and down as they walked in circles, like he was a predator stalking his prey. “Well, you certainly are a worthy opponent, Mister Yamada,” he purred.

    “Who are you?” Hizashi asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

    “My name is Shigaraki Tomura,” Shigaraki repeated, “and I’m Shouta’s first evil ex-boyfriend.”

    At that, Hizashi spun on his heels and looked up at Aizawa in confusion, begging him to offer some help or at least an explanation. “Shouta’s what? ” he asked.

    But Aizawa offered neither of the things Hizashi was looking for, and soon, Shigaraki was coming for him again. Hizashi turned back around and put his hands up in front of his face as he saw Shigaraki run to him again, exclaiming “Wait!!” and being mildly surprised when Shigaraki actually stopped for him.

    “So, wait. We’re fighting over Aizawa?” Hizashi asked.

    “Yeah,” Shigaraki replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Didn’t you get my email…? Explaining the whole situation…?”

    Hizashi remembered seeing another email along with the package reminder that morning. It had been from a Shigaraki Tomura, spouting some nonsense about seven evil exes fighting with him in a duel to the death. He’d found the email boring and uninteresting at the time and had sent it to the trash about five seconds after opening it.

    “Yeah, I… skimmed through it…”

    From the mezzanine, Mirai hissed in a manner that said “buddy, that’s gonna cost ya.”

    “You will pay for your insolence!” Shigaraki shouted, now shaking with rage, before resuming his running straight towards Hizashi, prepared to fight with everything that he had.

    Hizashi fought back as best he could, but it was hard when he had virtually no idea how to fight and this guy seemed like he had hands everywhere. It was like being in a fist fight with an octopus, or maybe the Hamburger Helper mascot. Either way, Hizashi was sure he was going to lose.

    “You seriously went out with this guy!?” Hizashi called to Aizawa while trying not to get his teeth punched out.

    “In my defense, it was the first year of middle school and he looked a lot less crusty then than he does now,” Aizawa replied with a huff, then added with a sigh and a shake of his head, “God, what happened to you?”

    Again, Shigaraki stopped his assault. He pushed Hizashi away from him, then turned to face Aizawa. He raised a cracked finger and pointed it at Aizawa’s face.

    “You’ll pay for what you did to me, Shouta! In the end, Fukukado will have the last word!”

    Before Aizawa could respond to that, Hizashi snuck up behind Shigaraki while he was distracted, holding a pair of cymbals he’d taken from Nemuri’s drum set and smashed Shigaraki’s head between them. As Hizashi separated the cymbals again, Shigaraki fell face down into the floor and remained there for several seconds until he disappeared in a puff of smoke and was replaced by a pile of coins.

    Suddenly, the venue erupted into applause, and though the place had pretty much been wrecked, everyone seemed to be having a good time. And Hizashi just barely got to hear the announcement that Present Mic had won the first round of the Battle of the Bands before Aizawa grabbed him by the hand and pulled him outside.

    Hizashi wasn’t exactly sure how he got there, but sometime later he was sitting in silence on a train, next to Aizawa, who was still holding his hand. And after some more time had passed, Hizashi finally decided to speak. “So… what was that all about…?”

    Aizawa pursed his lips briefly before answering. “I suppose I neglected to mention beforehand that if we’re going to date, you’re going to have to defeat my seven evil exes.” Like that was something totally normal and not insane.

    “You have seven evil ex-boyfriends?” Hizashi asked, just for clarification.

    “Seven evil exes, yes. Two of which were women.”

    “Oh,” Hizashi said. “And I’m going to have to… fight them?”

    “ Defeat them.”

    “Right, defeat them, if we’re going to… continue dating?”

    “Uh-huh.”

    “So what you’re saying right now is… that we’re… dating?” Hizashi asked, looking at Aizawa with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

    “Uh, yeah. I guess,” Aizawa replied.

    “Does that mean I can… call you by your given name?” Hizashi asked.

    Again, Aizawa flashed that small hint of a smile. “Sure,” he said.

    And Hizashi smiled back. “Cool.”

---

    “Well, you certainly look happy,” Mirai commented as Hizashi came out of his closet. Of course, Mirai couldn’t actually see Hizashi but out of the corner of his eye, as he was currently preoccupied with cooking bacon over the old, finicky stove in the corner of the room, but he could see that Hizashi had changed out of the clothes he had been wearing when he finally decided to come home that morning and was now wearing… something else.

    “Yeah, well, I got to second base with Shouta last night,” Hizashi bragged with a hum, walking over to the counter and leaning over it, propping his elbows up on it.

     Mirai looked away from his bacon then and narrowed his eyes at Hizashi in scepticity. “ You got to second base?” he asked, almost condescending in his tone.

    “Well, maybe first and a half,” Hizashi conceded, but his smile didn’t waver. “ And I invited Shouta over for dinner tonight! Soooooo! You can’t be here.”

     Mirai frowned at him. “Well, why not?”

    “Because you’re, you know… And I don’t want you, like, stealing Shouta from me or anything, you know?” Hizashi answered, shrugging his shoulders before picking up the entire plate of bacon that was already on the counter and taking it over to the singular armchair in the living room to eat it.

     Mirai glared at him briefly before huffing through his lips and rolling his eyes. “As if I’d want anything to do with your Hot Topic hobo boyfriend. Did you see the snacc I brought home with me last night?”

    Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear. Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Hizashi turned his head to see Nemuri’s (ex?) boyfriend, Yagi Toshinori, standing in the doorway, wearing only boxers. Hizashi sighed heavily before looking at Mirai.

    “Again, Mirai? Really?”

    It was Mirai’s turn to shrug. “It’s not my fault Nemu’s boyfriends keep turning out to be gay,” he said defensively, flipping the last of his bacon onto a new plate.

    “Might be your fault for turning them,” Hizashi mumbled under his breath before shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

    “Listen, Hizashi, if you want me gone during your little date tonight, I’m gonna have to issue an ultimatum,” Mirai said, picking up the plate and walking into the living room. He passed off the plate to Toshinori with a smile before sticking his spatula right up in Hizashi’s face with a very stern look. “You have to break up with Yu, that poor angel, today.”

    Hizashi sighed again and dragged his greasy hands down his face. “Yeah, you’re right…” he grumbled, then set his plate down on the arm of the chair and stood up from the chair.

    “In the meantime,” Mirai began, swiftly taking Hizashi’s place in the chair, “I’m going to marathon Bubaigawara Jin.”

    “Who’s Bubaigawara Jin?” Hizashi asked, his curious tone betraying the pout on his lips.

    “He was a pretty good skater a while ago, and now he’s a pretty good actor. He’s filming a movie downtown. I’m going to bring Toshinori with me to stalk him later tonight,” Mirai explained.

    “Oh,” Hizashi said. “So, this Bubaiga—”

    “Bubaigawara Jin is none of your business, Yamada. Now go break up with your fake high school girlfriend before I tell Aizawa all about her,” Mirai threatened.

    “Alright, alright! Whatever! God!” Hizashi whined, then pulled his cellphone out of his pocket so he could call Yu and give her the bad news.

    The rest of the day passed by without incident—unless you could call Mirai and Yagi almost having sex again on the frameless mattress in the corner of the apartment while Hizashi laid around on the floor, blissfully unaware of everything except the thought of doing the same thing with Aizawa an “incident”—until the evening came. Around five o’clock, Hizashi tried to start getting dinner ready, ignoring the sounds of Mirai and Yagi vigorously making out in the other half of the room. By 5:45, Mirai and Yagi were dressed and ready to go stalk that actor guy or whoever. By 5:54, Aizawa Shouta was knocking on their door.

    “Toshinori! Come on! Let’s get going!” Mirai called, though there wasn’t any reason for his voice to be so loud, considering the size of the apartment.

    As Toshinori bumbled towards the door, Mirai opened it, and only briefly acknowledged Aizawa as Aizawa let himself into the apartment without being invited in. Mirai stood against the door until Toshinori walked past him and went outside. Mirai stepped away from the door and let it shut, but not before keeping his head in the crack between the door and the doorframe long enough to say goodbye to Hizashi.

    “When Hot Topic hobo gets tired of you, come find me. Address is on the counter.”

    With that, the door was shut, and Aizawa and Hizashi were alone together.

    Aizawa turned to look at Hizashi with a raised eyebrow. “Hot Topic hobo?” he asked.

    Hizashi smiled and laughed nervously. “He’s joking. He likes… jokes, he’s a very jokey person, haha.”

    Aizawa made a face like he’d just eaten something incredibly sour. “Gross.”

    Hizashi laughed again. “Uh, anyways… Dinner’ll be… ready soon…”

    Fifteen minutes, and Hizashi and Aizawa were sitting on the floor eating pasta and garlic bread picnic-style while Hizashi rambled about how much he loved garlic bread until Aizawa told him he might get fat from eating so much of it. Thirty minutes, and Aizawa was still sitting on the floor while Hizashi sat in the armchair with his guitar and played a song that was quite frankly awful, claiming he had written it about Aizawa. Forty-five minutes, and they were both sitting against the armchair, tongues deep in each other’s mouths while Aizawa combed his fingers through Hizashi’s hair.

    “Your hair’s so long…” Aizawa murmured softly, almost like he was in a dream, admiring it as he pulled back from the kiss.

    As soon as the words left Aizawa’s lips, Hizashi pulled back violently and turned his head away, threading his own fingers through his hair. “Oh, God, I need to get it cut, don’t I?”

    Aizawa furrowed his brow in confusion. “What?”

    “Oh, it’s… nothing,” Hizashi dismissed, trying to play it off like he hadn’t just freaked out over a small, harmless comment. “I just… got a really bad haircut right before me and my big ex broke up, but that was so long ago… it doesn’t even matter.”

    Despite his assurances, Hizashi stood up from where he had been sitting, almost in a panic. Aizawa watched with a deadpan expression on his face. “Sounds like a bad time,” he said.

    “Oh, you know, it wasn’t that bad…” Hizashi said, leaning against the doorframe of his closet and hiding his face behind his hand.

    Aizawa stood up slowly and stood behind Hizashi, but kept his distance. “What was his name…?” he asked.

    “He went by something else when I knew him, but, he goes by Gentle now,” Hizashi said.

    “Well, I think your hair is… pretty,” Aizawa commented, completely ignoring the answer to his own question.

    “It’d look better if it was short,” Hizashi grumbled, pulling one of the hair ties off of his wrist and putting his hair up in a haphazard bun before grabbing a beanie out of the closet and pulling it on his head, over his hair.

    “Why are you wearing that hat now?” Aizawa asked him.

    “Oh, you know. I just thought we could go for a walk,” Hizashi replied, then grabbed Aizawa’s hand and started to pull him out of the apartment.

    Sixty minutes, and Hizashi and Aizawa were walking to the movie shoot that Mirai and Yagi had scampered off to while Hizashi vehemently denied that the only reason they were out in this weather was so that he could cover his hair with a beanie. Hizashi found it incredible that they could seriously just walk onto a movie set and no one was going to try and stop them, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. For now, he just wanted to find Mirai, hoping that perhaps his roommate could help keep him from embarrassing himself any further.

    It only took a few minutes to find where Mirai and Yagi had gotten to. Between Yagi’s Yugi Mutou hair and Mirai’s god-awful green with yellow streaks, they stuck out like sore thumbs in the crowd. Hizashi rushed over to the both of them, pulling Aizawa along with him. Mirai gave Hizashi a faint but knowing smirk as Hizashi stood next to him.

    “Find the guy you were stalking yet?” Aizawa asked, though he really didn’t care about the answer.

    “I think I’m about to,” Mirai responded, his gaze retreating to the door of a trailer that had the initials “B.J.”

    “Mister Bubaigawara is traveling!”

    Aizawa’s face suddenly twisted again, causing Hizashi to look at him in concern. “Bubaigawara?” he asked.

    “Bubaigawara Jin…” Mirai said in a dreamy, far-off tone.

    “Oh,” Aizawa said brusquely.

    The door of the trailer opened, and out stepped a roguishly handsome man with scruffy blond hair and a line of stitches going down his forehead. Hizashi wasn’t sure exactly how he was doing it, but he walked down the stairs wearing roller skates, then continued to skate by the crowd, making his way to where the current shot was taking place. Mirai gave a lustful sigh.

    “I wanna have his adopted babies,” he murmured.

    To which a rather confused and hurt Yagi responded with “Hey, I’m right here!”

    “Yeah, I’m thinking we need to go,” Aizawa said, staring blankly at Bubaigawara as he rolled by and settled on his mark.

    “Why?” Hizashi asked, looking at Aizawa again.

    “Because I used to date that clown,” Aizawa replied.

    “ What!? ”

    “And…”

    “Action!” Bubaigawara interrupted the director before beginning to say his own lines. “The only thing that’s keeping me and him apart is the two minutes it’s gonna take me to kick your ass.”

    “You dated a famous person!? ” Hizashi asked in disbelief.

    He was only vaguely aware of Bubaigawara calling out “Hey!” in front of him.

    “It was the last year of middle school,” Aizawa grumbled.

    “Hey!” Bubaigawara called again. “I’m talking to you, Yamada Hizashi!”

    That got Hizashi’s attention, and his focus snapped back to Bubaigawara, who was now skating towards him at an alarming pace. “I said, the only thing keeping me and him apart is the two minutes it’s gonna take me to kick your ass!”

    Before Hizashi could get a word in, he was socked in the face, causing the crowd around him to gasp in surprise. Then, Bubaigawara grabbed Hizashi by the collar of his shirt and threw him halfway across the set. As Hizashi lay on his back, gasping and wheezing for breath, Bubaigawara skated over to him and looked down at him.

    “You really thought you could take on an A-Lister, bruh?” He clicked his tongue in disdain. “Pathetic.”

    Hizashi finally regained his breath and scrambled to his feet, but not before Bubaigawara started to walk away. Hizashi chased him, yelling “Hey! Wait! I’m not finished with you!” before he was finally able to catch up and grab Bubaigawara’s shoulder. Only, it wasn’t Bubaigawara. Just a man who looked exactly like him.

    “Seeing double?” Bubaigawara asked, and Hizashi turned his head towards the voice just to see that Bubaigawara was sitting on the hood of a car a few feet away.

    With that, the false Bubaigawara delivered another punch to Hizashi’s face, knocking him to his back again. Bubaigawara slid off the hood and skated over to the double and patted his back before skating off again. Before Hizashi could comprehend what was going on, more and more Bubaigawaras started to appear until there were seven falsities in total.

    “What can I say?” Bubaigawara called. “I’m nothing without my stunt team.”

    While Hizashi was still on the ground, the stunt team came at him with all they had, kicking him like a dog while wearing their stupid roller skates. Hizashi was sure he was done for, but then he accidentally tripped one of the doubles, and the rest of them started to go down like dominoes. With that out of the way, Hizashi sprung to his feet and called for Bubaigawara again.

    “Mister Bubaigawara! You’re needed back on set!”

    Again, Bubaigawara came rushing towards him, and again, he was hit with a solid fist to the jaw. Bubaigawara laughed in his face as he fell on his back again. But out of the corner of his eye, Hizashi saw the stairs that he and Aizawa had walked up together—more prominently, the handrail between the steps—and he got an idea.

    “You think you’re pretty good at skating, don’t you?” he asked, looking up at Bubaigawara with an unimpressed expression that rivaled the natural look on Aizawa’s face.

    “ Think? ” Bubaigawara asked, chuckling. “Oh, kid, I know I am.”

    Hizashi gestured with his head towards the rail. “You think you could grind down that rail? Show us all what a superstar you really are?”

    Bubaigawara glanced towards the rail, then scoffed at Hizashi. “Are you kidding me? That rail is rickety as shit and there’s like 200 steps there. No way in hell am I going for that.”

    Hizashi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it is a little too hardcore for you…”

    “Oh, you did not just tell me that something was too hardcore for me,” Bubaigawara snapped.

    Without another word, Bubaigawara took off towards the rail and jumped onto it, his speed getting progressively faster and faster the further down he rode it. Hizashi pushed himself to his feet again and ran to the rail to watch. He hardly even noticed when he was joined by Mirai and a begrudging Yagi. Together, they watched as Bubaigawara grinded himself into oblivion and exploded into a pile of yen at the end of the rail.

    “Wrow,” was all Hizashi had to say.

    Proud of himself for defeating another one of Aizawa’s supposed seven evil exes, Hizashi turned back towards where he had been standing, expecting to run to him and receive a mountain of praise. But when Hizashi looked around at the set, he noticed that Aizawa was nowhere to be found. He’d bailed without a word. He was gone without a trace.

---

     Mirai had had just about enough of Hizashi’s incessant whining and whimpering and crying as he laid on the mattress in the living room while Aizawa continued to ignore his calls. Yagi hadn’t even stayed the night last night because as soon as they all got back, Hizashi couldn’t stop complaining about how Aizawa had bailed on them. Something had to be done to shut Hizashi up, and fast.

     Mirai walked over to the mattress and grabbed the phone out of Hizashi’s hand, then tossed it onto the seat of the armchair. Hizashi sat up and glared at him. Mirai folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Hizashi.

    “Okay, you need to stop this,” he said.

    “Stop whaaaat?” Hizashi whined.

    “That!” Mirai snapped. “That incessant whining like your life is over. Come on, get a grip!”

    “My life is over!” Hizashi complained. “I’m stuck fighting seven evil ex boyfriends for a guy who won’t even answer my calls.”

    “And you know, that’s rough buddy, but that’s kind of what a real relationship is. So Hot Topic hobo has baggage. If you really want him, you gotta fight for it. Maybe it’s time to break out the L-word,” Mirai suggested.

    Hizashi raised an eyebrow in confusion. “...Lesbian?”

     Mirai sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, Hizashi, the other L-word.”

    “...Lesbian- s ?”

    “ Love. ”

    “Oh.”

    And maybe that wouldn’t have been so hard for Hizashi, if it weren’t for the fact that Aizawa was still avoiding him. And that he only stopped avoiding him after Hizashi had an encounter with his ex, Gentle. And if Tensei hadn’t signed Present Mic on to open for Gentle’s band tonight at Gentle’s request. And if Yu wasn’t there. And she wasn’t dating Tensei now, apparently.

    Everything was awful, and to make matters even worse, the Todoroki Enji that Gentle was now dating was apparently the same Todoroki Enji that Aizawa used to date. He was the drummer in Gentle’s band now. He kept staring at Hizashi through the whole set. And Hizashi had a bad feeling about what was coming next.

    After the show was over, Nemuri dragged Hizashi, Tensei, Aizawa, and Yu backstage, again, at Gentle’s request. They all sat on couches facing opposite of one another, tense silence throughout the room until Aizawa decided that he and Hizashi needed to leave. They couldn’t do so before Gentle finally spoke up.

    “I was in Tokyo a little while ago. Playing a show for Fukukado Emi. You know her, right?”

    By now, Hizashi knew that name. Emi was to Aizawa as Gentle was to Hizashi. The worst ex he’d ever had that he was still struggling to tell himself was over. Hizashi knew Gentle was jealous that Hizashi was dating Aizawa now, even though Gentle was the one who dumped him for that dumpster fire of a man Todoroki. But things were over between them now for real, and Hizashi wasn’t going to let Gentle ruin his relationship with Aizawa no matter what.

    “Alright, that’s it!” Hizashi exclaimed, jumping up from the couch in anger. “Come on, Shouta, let’s get out of here. We don’t need to sit and listen to these freaks.”

    But just as Aizawa was about to get up, Todoroki raised his hand. Suddenly, there was a barrier of fire right in front of the door, making it so that no one could get out of the room. Everyone else in the room, aside from Gentle, started to scream.

    Hizashi looked back at Todoroki to see that his hair and mustache both looked like they were made of fire, and his eyes were glowing bright red.

    “What the hell, man!?” he shouted.

    “Oh, didn’t you know?” Gentle asked in an innocent tone. “Enji’s a vegan.”

    With that, Todoroki grabbed Hizashi by the lapels of his jacket, picked him up, and threw him so hard against the wall of the building that he flew straight through it and landed in the alleyway outside the venue.

    As Hizashi lay on the ground, whining in pain and gasping for breath, Todoroki began walking towards him. Hizashi pushed himself to his hands and knees and watched in fear as Todoroki strode forward. “Y-you’re a vegan?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

    “It’s not really a big deal,” Todoroki said with a shrug.

    “Being a vegan simply makes you better than everyone else,” Gentle bragged from the room, peering through the hole that Hizashi had made in the wall with a wicked grin on his face.

    “And it gives you cool powers,” Todoroki added.

    Before Hizashi had the chance to defend himself, Todoroki picked him up and threw him through another wall, where he landed on a table full of cups of coffee. The table was destroyed and coffee was spilled everywhere, but miraculously, he didn’t get any on himself. In addition to that, the coffee pot that was now on the ground still had enough coffee in it for two cups. And there was a basket of coffee creamers right next to it. And Hizashi suddenly got a brilliantly stupid idea.

    Once again, Todoroki entered the room. Hizashi turned to face him, now holding two cups of freshly poured coffee in his hands. They both had creamer in them.

    “It’s time we end this, Yamada. You’re finished,” Todoroki snarled.

    “It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it…?” Hizashi asked with a nervous laugh. Then, he held one of the cups up to Todoroki. “So won’t you grant a dying man’s wish and drink to his memory before you kill him?”

    Todoroki saw no reason to refuse, so with a shrug, he took the cup from Hizashi and downed all of the piping hot coffee in one long sip. But as soon as he finished, two men crashed through the ceiling of the room and landed on their feet, training laser pointers on Todoroki. One of the men looked like he was wearing a cat fursuit, except it was suspiciously realistic. The other was just a regular-looking detective.

    The cat opened his mouth to speak. “Todoroki Enji, you’re under arrest for Veganee code violation number two-eight-seven; imbibement of half-and-half.”

    Todoroki turned his attention to the men who had just crashed his party and narrowed his eyes, flaring his nostrils. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snarled.

    The cat and the detective then pulled badges from their pockets and flashed them at Todoroki. “I’m officer Tamakawa, and this is officer Tsukauchi. We’re the Vegan Police.”

    Todoroki’s mouth dropped open and he sputtered for a bit, looking back and forth between the police and Hizashi before shouting “You tricked me!!” He focused his attention on the police again. “Officers, he deceived me. You can’t hold me accountable for breaking the Veganee code when I didn’t know what I was ingesting!”

    “ Technically, we should have taken your powers away ages ago, but we were going to give you three strikes. This is your third,” Tamakawa growled.

    “Then what were my other two!?” Todoroki demanded.

    Tamakawa immediately pulled out a notepad and read off an entry from it. “Twelve-twenty-seven A.M., February first, knowingly ingested gelato.”

    Todoroki creased his brow in confusion. “Gelato isn’t vegan?”

    “It’s milk and eggs, bitch,” Tsukauchi snapped.

    “Seven-thirty P.M., April 4th, knowingly ingested parmesan chicken,” Tamakawa added.

    Todoroki couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one, but still weakly mumbled “Chicken isn’t vegan…?”

    “Hit him with the de-veganize ray, Tsukauchi.”

    Tsukauchi and Tamakawa both held their laser pointers back up and hit a switch that somehow made them capable of taking away all of Todoroki’s Vegan Powers. And somehow, losing his powers made him weak enough to turn into a pile of yen. And then the Vegan Police just left without another word. And honestly, this was not the way Hizashi was expecting to take out this guy. But hey, it worked.

---

    The next three exes were nothing noteworthy.

    Well, maybe a little.

    The fourth was a woman named Hikiishi Kenji, though she prefered the name Magne. She was the only woman Aizawa had ever actually enjoyed going out with before realizing he was gay, but unfortunately, that discovery had put just a little bit of a sour taste in Magne’s mouth. A quick poke on the underside of her knee turned her into a pile of cash just like all the rest.

    The fifth ex and the sixth ex went hand-in-hand. For a long time, Aizawa actually thought they were the same person. Because they were twins. And that’s why they broke up. One of them called himself Ectoplasm. Aizawa wasn’t actually sure what the other’s name was. But it didn’t matter, because Hizashi’s band totally kicked their band’s ass, and they turned into piles of yen onstage.

    But the seventh ex was the worst. Fukukado Emi, a girl who just didn’t know how to leave a gay guy alone. Her pretty looks just made her ten times more annoying that she already was. But she was charismatic, and everyone around her seemed to adore her. They bowed at her feet and succumbed to her every beck and call just because she was the owner of a famous record company. She even had Aizawa wrapped around her terrifying little finger. And she was Hizashi’s final boss.

    Hizashi should have known what was coming when he saw Aizawa getting friendly with that woman in the crowd during his battle with the Ectoplasm twins. Yeah, yeah, Hizashi had been complaining about the amount of Aizawa’s baggage that he had to deal with in such a short amount of time, but so what? That was no reason for Aizawa to go around and start flirting with other people.

    Hizashi figured that Mirai had probably been right when he said that Hizashi needed to break out the L-word. Unfortunately, that plan backfired on him. He told Aizawa he was in “lesbians” with him instead of in “love” with him, and Aizawa broke up with him to be with Fukukado again. And Hizashi’s band signed a record deal with Fukukado without even asking him.

    Everything. Sucked.

    But that night, Hizashi had a dream about Aizawa. A dream that told him Aizawa was in trouble. A dream that hardened his resolve to fight, and defeat, Aizawa Shouta’s seventh and final evil ex.

     “I’m sorry,” Aizawa said in the dream, appearing to Hizashi in some barren desert wasteland from somewhere within the confines of his own mind.

    Hizashi couldn’t think of any other way to respond than to simply ask “Why her?”

    “She’s obsessed with me,” Aizawa told him. “She’s nuts. She won’t leave me alone. She’s toxic. I’ve been trying to get away from her for years.”

    “Then why would you give in to her? Can’t you just get a restraining order, or something? I mean come on, that’s—”

    “It’s not that simple, Hizashi. I can’t help myself around her. She’s just… got this way of getting into my head.”

    “Well,” Hizashi said, pursing his lips into a thin frown, “that’s legitimately disappointing. I guess I’m gonna leave you alone forever now.”

    But just as Hizashi was about to turn and walk away, Aizawa stopped him. “No, Hizashi. She really has a way of getting into my head. She’s brainwashing me.”

    “What?” Hizashi asked in disbelief.

    “I’m gay, Hizashi. Why would I willingly go out with a woman? And how else do you think she has tons of loyal fans and followers even though she’s disgustingly annoying?”

    “But how is that even possible?”

    “How is a dude having fire powers just because he’s a vegan possible?”

    Hizashi shrugged in agreement. “Fair point.”  

    “I need help, Hizashi,” Aizawa said. “Come save me if you can. Or if you want.”

     When Hizashi woke up, it was some time the next night. He could tell because Mirai was shitfaced drunk and straddling Toshinori’s lap while making out with him in the armchair. If it was any time before 5:00 P.M., they’d be doing the same thing, but on the kitchen counter.

    Somehow, Fukukado had built a new venue under everyone’s noses that no one had even heard about until the night before, even though she was a totally famous record company CEO that Tensei admired enough to sell out to. The opening night was tonight, and what was left of Present Mic without Hizashi in it would be playing, and Aizawa would definitely be there, sitting at Fukukado’s side while she made terrible jokes and described a cringeworthy wedding that Aizawa would rather kill himself than be present for, let alone be the groom. But he wouldn’t have to be, because Hizashi was going to kick Fukukado’s ass, and then he and Aizawa were going to go back to Aizawa’s apartment to make out so they didn’t have to walk in on Mirai and Toshinori having sex.

    Getting into the venue was easy enough. There were guards, of course, but all Hizashi had to do was make them laugh, and Hizashi was definitely shameless enough to do so. Fighting Fukukado, though, that was another story. It was hard to feel confident in yourself when your best friends were willingly playing boss battle music for your arch nemesis, your gay boyfriend left you for said female arch nemesis, your best friend/roommate was getting it on with his gay boyfriend instead of giving you moral support, and your arch nemesis had a big ass sword which was only slightly mightier than the words that were coming out of her mouth.

    “Just give it up already, Yamada. The past is in the past! Shou made his choice! And why wouldn’t he pick me over you? You’re jobless, you’re practically homeless, your band sounds way better without you in it, you still can’t get over your own ex, you’re arrogant, insecure, stupid, and a cheater! But me? I’ve got everything Shouta could ever want, and a little more than that!”

    From anyone else, Hizashi would have taken the verbal beating like a masochist takes a switch. But Hizashi wasn’t into that, and certainly not with Fukukado.

    “Hey, you know what, man? Fuck you! I know I’m not a saint, but that doesn’t mean I deserve this shit! Yeah, yeah, I dropped the ball because I didn’t break up with Yu before I started dating Shouta. I’m an asshole, okay? But at least I don’t create leagues of Evil Exes to come beat the shit out of my own ex’s new datemates and condemn him to a life of eternal baggage before brainwashing him and forcing him to date me again! And you know what else? I’m in love with Shouta! So if you think I’m gonna let him go without a fight, then you’re dead wrong!”

    Suddenly, Hizashi felt a strange electricity coursing through him, and he noticed two swords were simultaneously phasing out of his body, right through his nipples. After phasing out completely, they both kind of just floated in front of him until he decided to grab a hold of both of them. The hilt of one had the words “the power of love” engraved on it, and the hilt of the other said “the power of self-respect.” It was really freaky, and Hizashi felt vaguely like he had just been violated, but he didn’t have any other weapons or any other plans, so he decided just to go for it.

    With a war-cry uttered from both of them, Fukukado and Hizashi rushed towards each other and engaged in the sword fight of the century. Even with two swords, Hizashi was barely a match for Fukukado. He was sure that this was the ex that was going to kill him. But there was one last thing Hizashi thought maybe he could try as a last resort. He had nothing to lose, save maybe his dignity. But that mattered little to him in what could be his final moments.

    “H-hey, you like jokes, right?” Hizashi asked in a brief moment when they had some space between them.

    “Yeah, why?” Fukukado asked.

    “Wanna hear something funny?” Hizashi retorted.

    Fukukado shrugged. “Sure, go for it.”

    “This isn’t really a joke, but,” Hizashi began, “the original name they were going to use for Pac-Man was Puck-Man. It’s because the phrase ‘paku paku’ means, you know, to flap your mouth open and closed. But they changed it because they thought it would be too easy to vandalize and that people would turn the P into an F. Then he would be Fuck-Man!”

    There was silence for a hot minute, and Fukukado looked deadly serious, and Hizashi was sure that little spiel was going to be what his last words were. But then, Fukukado broke out into laughter. She dropped her sword and held her stomach and sunk to her knees and laughed. And Hizashi watched her for a second before driving both of his swords straight through her body and turning her into a shitload of yen.

    All that was left of her was the ugly bandana she wore on her head.

    Now free of his mind control, Aizawa ran down the steps from where he had been sitting so that he could rejoin Hizashi. As Aizawa came to his side, Hizashi reached down to grab the bandana off the floor. But as soon as he picked the bandana up, Fukukado’s voice came back to haunt him.

    “You may have been able to defeat Shou’s baggage, Yamada, but can you defeat your own? ”

    As soon as the words had been spoken, a new figure suddenly appeared in front of Hizashi. The figure bore a slight resemblance to Hizashi himself, like a low res JPEG image had come out of a 3D printer but the printer got jammed. Hizashi and Aizawa both squinted at the figure, scruitenizing it.

    “Who’re you?” Hizashi questioned.

    “Yamada Hizashi, I’m your Nega self; Presentation Michael!”

    “What the fuck?” Hizashi asked. “My name isn’t even Michael!”

    “ Silence! ” Presentation Michael commanded. “You can’t run away from your fears forever, Yamada Hizashi! Face me or be consumed by a depression powerful enough to destroy even Sasaki Mirai’s confidence.”

    Aizawa clenched his fists and raised them in front of his face, indicating that he was ready to kick this guy’s ass. But Hizashi put his hands on top of Aizawa’s and pushed them down. Aizawa stared at him in confusion.

    “Hiza—”

    “No, Shouta. Presentation Michael is right. I have to face my fears. And this is something I have to do myself.”

    Shouta hesitated for a minute, then nodded and slowly backed away. He left the building, followed by Tensei and Nemuri and everyone else who was still, for some reason, inside the venue. Then, it was a matter of anxious waiting to see if Hizashi or Presentation Michael would be the one to come out after.

    But to Shouta’s surprise (and Hizashi’s as well), the two of them came out of the venue together, talking and laughing with one another before performing some kind of exaggerated handshake and walking their separate ways. Presentation Michael went off to wherever, and Hizashi headed to where Shouta was standing, waiting for him. Shouta shook his head in bewilderment.

    “What happened in there?” he asked.

    “Oh, Mike and I just had a great talk. He’s actually a cool guy, we’re gonna get brunch next week,” Hizashi said with a smile.

    “Oh, okay,” Shouta said. “Is that it?”

    “Yeah, that’s it,” Hizashi replied.

    “Well, cool, I guess.”

    “Do you, uh… do you wanna head back to your place? And maybe… make out, and stuff? I’d offer mine, but—“

    “Mirai?”

    “Yeah…”

    Shouta smiled warmly, then reached for Hizashi’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Sure. My place it is.”