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The villain is easy enough to incapacitate. They always are. Shouta can’t remember the last time he dealt with an actual threat on night patrol. So it takes him less than a minute to erase his Quirk, wrap him with his capture weapon and call the police, before standing beside the bound villain and putting eye drops in his sore eyes.
“Um… hello?”
Shouta jumps slightly, turning his head. He spots a little girl poking her head around the end of the alleyway, clearly crying.
“Hello, there,” Shouta says, trying to sound polite and not grouchy. “Do you need any help?”
The girl nods, but looks at the restrained villain.
“You don’t need to worry about him,” he says. “My capture weapon is wrapped tight around him. He can’t hurt you.”
“Shut the fuck up!” the villain snarls.
The girl’s eyes widen, clearly shocked by the swearword.
“Yes, he can use filthy language, but he can’t hurt you. So, what’s wrong?”
“Um… I… I’ve lost my mom.”
Great. A lost child is the last thing he needs.
“Well, you can stay here with me,” Shouta says. “I’m waiting for the police, so you can come to the station with me and the police officers can look after you and try and find your mother. How does that sound?
The girl smiles weakly. “Good. Thank you, Eraserhead.”
She recognised him. That makes a change.
And the girl wanders over and reaches for his hand. Shouta lets her hold his hand, and keeps his eye on the villain and the girl until help arrives.
But when the police arrive, the alleyway is suddenly swarming with police officers, and the girl panics. She clings to Shouta, gripping his hand tightly with her horribly sweaty hand, and as her sweat touches his skin, a strange sensation tingles through Shouta, ending with a throbbing pain in his head. And then it stops. What the hell was that?
Could it have been a Quirk? But what does this girl even have for a Quirk? And she’s so young she probably doesn’t know what it is yet.
He’s probably just worrying, but still… he hopes it was nothing.
---
Hizashi is half asleep on the couch when the front door opens. He stands up, rubbing his eyes, and wanders out into the hallway.
“Yo, Shouta!” he yells in English.
But then he stops.
Shouta is glaring at him. Not in a playful, silly way (like when he’s pretending to be mad at Hizashi), but like Hizashi has done something awful. Like he hates him.
“Go away,” Shouta says. “I didn’t want to come back here, but I have nowhere else to go. So leave me the fuck alone, you bastard.”
Hizashi flinches taking a step backwards. “Shou, have I done something wrong?”
“You’ve done everything wrong. You’re the worst person I’ve ever met, and the thought that I am somehow married to such a piece of shit makes me sick. So leave me alone. I’m going to bed.”
Shouta stalks past him, leaving Hizashi stood in the hallway. He blinks, hoping he won’t start crying. What is going on? Why… why does Shouta hate him?”
“Shouta, wait!” he cries, running after him. “Please tell me what I’ve done. Then maybe we can sort this out.”
“Fuck off!” Shouta snaps, turning around to glare at him. “I hate you. If you’re intelligent, you’ll never speak to me again."
And Shouta storms into the bedroom and shuts the door.
Despite his best attempts to hold back the tears, Hizashi begins to sob. Tears running down his face, he lies down on the couch and tries not to think about how his husband suddenly hates him with a passion.
He falls asleep with tears drying on his face.
---
The next morning, Hizashi’s stomach churns with fear. Shouta hasn’t opened the bedroom door yet, and he’s dreading the things Shouta is going to do when he comes out of the bedroom.
Why does Shouta hate him now? He just doesn’t understand.
When the bedroom door finally opens, he stands up and tries not to cry again. Shouta walks into the room, exhausted and bleary eyed, but he looks like himself, like he used to look before last night.
“Hizashi?” Shouta says. “Why weren’t you in bed? I woke up and you weren’t in there.” He frowns, noticing Hizashi’s swollen eyes and tense body language. “Are you okay?”
“You… don’t remember?” he whispers, trembling.
“Remember what?”
“When you came home last night you… you hated me. You swore at me and said you hated me and said you never wanted to see me again…” Hizashi’s voice wobbles and he groans, fighting back tears.
Shouta walks over and puts his hand on Hizashi’s shoulder. “I really don’t remember. Did that really happen?” When Hizashi nods, he says, “Oh, ‘Zashi, I’m so sorry. I… I think I got hit by a Quirk last night.”
“A Quirk?”
“Yeah, I met this lost child and she held my hand, and she started sweating when she got scared and when her sweat touched my palm, this weird pain went through my body. I remember coming home and seeing you… and then nothing until when I woke up.” Shouta steps closer and carefully strokes his long hair back from his face. “I’m so sorry, Hizashi.”
The realisation that it was all a Quirk hits him hard, but despite the relief surging through him, Hizashi still has tears in his eyes. “No… you don’t need to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just… so glad it wasn’t really you.” His voice cracks and tears start to leak down his face as he says, “I thought our marriage was over!”
“Please don’t cry,” Shouta says, pulling him into a hug.
Hizashi sniffs and wipes his eyes, trying to stop crying.
“It’s going to be okay, ‘Zashi,” Shouta says, rubbing his back. “I promise.”
Hizashi kisses Shouta, hugging his husband like he can’t let go. “I love you, Shou.”
“I love you too,” Shouta says, kissing him back, and they stand there hugging, both unable to believe what happened and hoping it will never happen again.