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The first thing Shota noticed as he entered the restaurant was the bass of an old rock song that was quietly playing in the background. The second was the loud voices of his coworkers as they laughed. Probably at something Kan had said, who was the first person Shota saw he stepped away from the entrance. Kicking off his muddy shoes, he stacked them neatly against the wall before pushing his way through a beaded curtain.
“Shotaaaaa!” Mic hollered from a table towards the back, arms flailing as he attempted to wave. Shota grunted in annoyance as eyes from a few patrons strayed towards him. “Shota, Shotaa!” Mic repeated, rocking from side to side in glee as he continued urging the underground hero to walk faster. Smirking to himself, Shota slowed his pace even more. He dropped his head forward to glance at where he was walking, his hair falling around his face like a curtain.
“You’re too loud, Hizashi,” Shota grumbled as he lowered himself onto the empty seat next to Kan.
“You’re just too quiet!" Nemuri teased, leaning across the table to pat his arm. She pulled her hand back and instead, grabbed her cup when he pulled his arm out from under her hand. Shota ignored the chuckle from the bulky man next to him.
“Now we’re finally a full table, eh?” Kan teased, referring to Shota being late. He simply scowled as he pulled his hair up into an anything but neat bun. The other three simply laughed at his expression.
“Damned idiots,” he muttered under his breath as he poured himself a drink. He brought the cup to his nose and sniffed at the liquid inside. The sharp smell of alcohol made him turn his face away abruptly, a grimace forming on his face.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Nemuri almost screeched, thrusting out both hands to stop him from putting it back on the table.
“You pour it, you drink it Aizawa,” Kan commented from next to him. The man quietly chuckled behind the rim of his glass when he noticed the stink eye he was receiving.
“Drink it! Drink it!” Hizashi cheered, pumping his fist in the air in his typical fashion.
“You can do it, you grump!” Nemuri’s cheer followed shortly after.
“Fine,” he sighed as he stopped trying to put the glass down. He lifted his cup from the Nemuri’s palms which were inches from the table surface. “If it’ll get you to shut up,” he quipped, bringing the undesired cup to his mouth. He stared at the liquid as it sloshed around in the circular object. He shrugged, telling himself that he owed himself a drink, taking a big swig.
It was a bittersweet taste, burning his throat as he swallowed it. He received applause from everyone around the table, Nemuri cheering especially loudly.
“I knew you could do it Aizawa,” Kan said, giving him a strong pat on his shoulder. Except, it sent him into a coughing fit as the bigger male wasn’t aware of how much strength he was using. “Oh, fuck!” Shota hissed, wiping some of his drink from his chin. Kan was quick to apologise, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The man had a sheepish smile plastered on his face.
Shota looked up when both Hazashi and Nemuri started squealing in delight. He saw both of their heads turned to his left. He tilted his head to look where their gazes were concentrated and his eyes widened. The owner of the establishment was making his way towards them with what looked like a hot pot. Shota found himself licking his lips at the sight of the dish as it was placed in between the group. The aroma alone was mouthwatering enough to make any man keel over.
There was a particular reason why they frequented this place.
Just as quietly as the man came, he left.
Probably to leave the esteemed heroes to dig into their long awaiting meal.
Shota was quick to grab a bowl and dish food for himself. “Not happening you damned speaker!” Shota hissed as he swiped at Mic’s hand. The other man grinned broadly as he stuffed a delicious piece of meat into his mouth, sending a playful wink towards his friend.
The rest of the meal went rather peacefully after that. Everyone stayed silent as they ate, relishing in the delicious meal they were all sharing. It wasn’t often that they were able to share their meals like this...there was usually a bigger group too.
“SO,” Hizashi started as he placed his now empty bowl down. He reached for a napkin to wipe some sauce from his cheek. “What do ya’ll think about the coming year?” He asked, shifting in his seat. He changed positions so that he could extend his legs out from under the table. He braced his arms behind him to lean back. He was full and wanted to relieve the pressure on his stomach.
Shota watched on in amusement.
Kan was the first to answer.
“I reckon it will be a good year,” Kan brought his hand to his chin as he spoke, scratching the underside of his chin where stubble was growing darker in colour. Shota knew that the man would be cleanly shaven by the time the new school year started.
Kan had mentioned something about ‘having a clean image’ if he could paraphrase.
“It’s sure to be interesting,” Nermuri started as she extended her arms above her head to stretch. There were all sorts of clicking noises which made Shota cringe. Strangely, it reminded him of bones breaking. He was quick to push the thought from his mind. He didn’t need reminders. “Referring to Yuuei’s new arrival?” he asked with a vague interest in the topic. “Yep!” Nemuri chirped, snapping her fingers in his direction. “The one and only!” she added cheekily, winking at the look on Shota’s face.
“Well,” he said as he started pushing himself to his feet. He picked up his capture weapon and wrapped it securely around his shoulders. “We'll see just how well it goes, making the number one pro hero part of Yuuei's staff,” he commented as he hid his mouth behind the material of his scarf.
He pulled the hair tie from his hair and snapped it around his wrist, letting his hair fall back over his shoulders. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to make it seem less untamed.
“You goin’ already?” Hizashi asked with a lazy smile painted on his face. Shota narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the look of mischief in Mic’s eyes as the man stared up at him from his seat. “Yes,” he grunted, tone empty and dead.
The way he said it left no space for further discussion.
“Off to catch some sleep?” Kan inquired, tilting his head back slightly to look up at his colleague. Shota tilted his head in agreement. Kan responded in kind with a nod of his own.
Aizawa jerked his head towards the two suspicious looking adults who were both whispering quietly to each other. He cast an accusatory glance towards Kan who simply raised his hands in surrender. Shota felt his quirk starting to crackle to life out of frustration, making the other man’s eyes widen slightly. He didn’t mean much by it but it was a good intimidation tactic.
That was until a duffel bag came barreling towards him from his left. With fluid movements, he twisted his left around his hobaku buki, the steel wired carbon fibre cloth snaked around the bag in mid-air. With a firm tug, he yanked the bag towards him, catching it with his free right hand. He felt as his eyes grew irritated as he turned off his quirk.
“Hizashi!” he hissed. His scowl deepening further as the supposedly pro hero started cracking up with laughter.
“E - ra - ser - hea - a - a - d.” Hizashi sang loudly making everyone flinch at the volume.
“Enough Mic,” Nemuri said, whacking the back of the energetic man’s head. “You’re too loud,” she added with a bitter-sweet smile. Shota couldn’t help but feel as the woman wove her fingers through Hizashi’s hair and yanked his head back. It made the blond whimper in pain.
Everyone at the table laughed, except Mic who complained.
Shota, never one for goodbyes, quietly slipped away while everyone was caught in enjoyment over Hizashi’s reaction to Nemuri’s playful behaviour. The jingling of the beads blended together with the low hum of conversation. He took a moment to put on his shoes, grabbing the duffel bag once he was done. He kicked the back of his heel against the step before exiting the quaint little restaurant.
He slung the bag over one shoulder and stuck his other hand deep into the pocket of his pants. He found a comfortable pace and kept to it until he reached the station. He caught one of the last trains that headed close to his home. He found an empty corner of the cart before making himself, leaning against the wall for support. The bag found its way to his feet, firmly placed between his boots.
Glancing around, he made sure that he could see every exit in case there was an emergency.
A lot more happened on trains than people realised.
-
Before he knew it, Shota trudged into his small one bedroom apartment. The only light source was from the pale moonlight that broke through the blinds. Almost immediately, he felt himself relax as he breathed in the scent of spice, home and cats.
The sound of a purr at his feet made him look down. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “Tora.” he breathed, picking up the little ball of fur with his free hand. “Missed you,” he grunted, burying his face into the cat’s soft fur. Moving forward a few more paces, he dropped the inconspicuous looking duffel bag on his coffee table. He proceeded to coddle his cat more, batching the Ocicat with all of the attention it wanted.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and gave her a few rubs behind her ears as he made his way to his kitchen. Much to his disdain, Shota found out that he was out of coffee. Tossing the empty glass bottle into the recycling, he reached for the milk. Might as well, he thought before shrugging. He drank straight from the bottle, not giving a damn. A needy meow caught his attention. He smiled at the little animal. He caved when she kept staring at him with a pleading look in her eyes. He poured a little bit of milk in a plate and left it on the counter.
He reminded himself of the bag, knowing that if he didn’t check it now, he would completely forget about it come tomorrow. Shota approached it with caution: Hizashi Yamada could be a real damn nuisance if he wanted to be and had a tendency to be unpredictable. With careful handling, he unzipped the bag, stopping almost half-way. He swore that he could almost feel Mic grinning broadly in glee in the back his head as the bright yellow colour of what looked like a rolled up sleeping bag glared up at him. “Damn Yamada.” he snorted before discarding the bag and heading off to take a shower.
Shota’s last thought over the matter was that it was at least practical.