Work Text:
Shota has seen a lot of weird shit in his life. That should be expected of him by now.
He saw Nemuri’s original costume design, which made sense for her quirk but he still doesn’t understand why she chose a leather jacket of all things to go with it. Like c’mon, he knew she was going for a dominatrix vibe but why wear something that would give her no flexibility in a fight? Who would wear a leather jacket in fucking summer?
He saw the prototype Tensei commissioned from Mei for his wheelchair, which unlike Nemuri’s, didn’t have any excuse for the stupidity of it. Why a retired hero feels the need for rocket launchers and spiked wheels is something he will never understand, but will devote himself to shutting down before he gets even more crippled.
He read Midoriya’s notebooks, which is self-explanatory.
And perhaps most disturbing of all, he was the only other witness to the aftermath of Todoroki’s nightmares. He won’t say too much but- Fuck that, he will, he needs to let it all out to try and understand what the fuck that even was. Why was there a steaming puddle of a melted kettle on the ground for him to find after he ran to the student dorms when a fire alarm went off? Why was Todoroki’s only explanation the word “mother”? Why did Midoriya come down five seconds later only to whip out his notebook that said ‘shady notebook’ on the cover and point to a drawing of Endeavor? And why the fuck did that actually calm him down?
And given all of these, which still leave out 30 years of better examples, you’d expect him to be used to it by now. Hell, you’d probably expect him to be the one to do weird shit nowadays after picking it up from so many people. And he’s not gonna attempt to deny the statement, either because he knows the truth or because the police officers working the night shift won’t let him bullshit his way out of admitting that he’s come in there drenched in rain with an unconscious villain body, but he isn’t the main focus right now.
Because despite everything he’s been through, every prototype blueprint he’s been forced to burn to ashes, nothing could have prepared him for whatever the fuck Tsukauchi is forcing him to look at right now.
“And that’s pretty much it.” The detective said, closing his notepad and leaning against the inner brick wall of the bar, “We were ten seconds too late, and in that time the villains were able to retreat the premises. There were no other exits and entries besides the ones our officers closed off, so it’s safe to assume they utilized Kurogiri’s portal quirk to teleport to a different unknown location. It’s unfortunate, but on the bright side we managed to surprise them enough to catch them off their game, which resulted in them not having enough time to bring the rest of their belongings with them.
“Toga Himiko, the blood girl who’s weirdly infatuated with two of your students, left behind her knife collection. Dabi abandoned his jacket, which we can examine for traces of hair later and hopefully link back to whatever his real identity is. Kurogiri left a couple suits, but I don’t think mist has DNA. Twice, Spinner, Mr. Compress, and ‘Big sis’ Magne didn’t appear to leave anything behind, probably carrying nothing but the clothes on their back and some weapons. And finally...” The detective gave Shota an awkward, pitying glance before continuing, “...Tomura Shigaraki’s entire room.”
Shota stared unblinkingly at the wall in front of him, trying to force himself to close his eyes- or maybe carve them out with one of Toga’s knives- but failing at every attempt. It was like a car crash, horrifying to witness but unable to look away from. Because how could he look away? How could he go on with his everyday life knowing this existed? A few times he opened his mouth to try and ask Tsukauchi these questions himself, but every time he came close he clammed and wondered if he actually wanted an answer.
At last, the underground hero decided that ‘ignorance is bliss’ simply wasn’t an option. No matter how much we wanted it to be.
“What...” He forced out, words scratchy from how dry his throat was. What in the world? What the hell? What the fuck? Why the fuck? So many possibilities yet so little will to live on. “Just... what?“
The room in question was something you’d expect to find in the room of a teenage girl in a 80’s coming of age movie. The wall was filled with pictures of celebrities, maybe a couple of family photos; The drawers overflowing with ‘trendy’ clothing items; And the bed covered in way too many stuffed animals and pillows. Only instead of something innocent and normal like that... it was him. It was Shota.
Yes, you read that right, it was Shota.
Instead of celebrities and families, it was him. Him mid-jump between buildings on patrol, him doing paperwork in the staff room, him drinking coffee with Nemuri at the police station after a drug raid, him yelling at Nezu because the rat decided to take Midoriya on as his personal student, everything. All of them taken from views outside of windows or far away enough and so close to the ground that the person taking them would be impossible to spot. The only exceptions were the ones of him in high school , where Hizashi took photos of him at cat cafes or forced group photos with Oboro. Only Oboro was delicately covered with a slip of paper.
He remembered what Zashi told him a couple weeks ago, something about losing his phone. He only remembers because he was the one who had to reassure the blonde that the lost photos and memories he was crying over could be easily transferred from the cloud. And because the man at the tech support store said that Hizashi must have dropped in water while it was shut off or something because no matter what they did they couldn’t find the location signal.
Shota felt a cold chill run down his spine now knowing that wasn’t the case.
Instead of trendy clothing it was, well, he didn’t know what it was. He just knew he didn’t like it. Because aside from regular hoodies, t-shirts, and jeans, there was a single object that made him feel even colder. A signature gray capture weapon, with scratches and few faint stains of mud that showed signs of wear. The kind of damage it would get if it was worn during several villain fights, which it was. The tears big enough to warrant a repair or replacement from the agency that produced it.
Shota got a replacement. And five hours after that, an email apologizing to him saying that one of their staff members must have misplaced the previous one, because it was nowhere to be found.
And finally, instead of pillows and stuff animals, it... Oh for fuck’s sake, you already know by now. It was him. It was one of those weird chibi plushies that stores sold for famous heroes that had a vague outline of their face and the costume. This one specifically included the latest model of his yellow goggles. Which yes, is also very disturbing. And usually it’d be next to impossible to get one of an underground hero. You know, because they’re underground and the entire point of that is to stay unknown. Which clearly Shota failed judging by the countless amount of photos.
The only way to get those plushies would be to order it custom made, make it yourself, or get it from a very, very small fanbase that just happens to sell merchandise at Hero Con. He doesn’t know why, but somehow he has a fanbase, which following today’s overarching theme is once again disturbing. Anyway, Shota doesn’t know which one it is yet, but if it’s the third one, then you can bet he’s gonna beat the shit out of whoever thought making him merchandise was a good idea. Or even a legal one. Because doesn’t he have to sign a contract to let other people produce and own products with his name and face on it-?
Oh.
Oh fuck you, Nemuri, that’s what the ‘very urgent document that you can’t ask questions about or else my life will be on the line and you won’t get your coffee’ was for? Now it makes sense why she only asked him to sign it while he was dead on his feet at 4 in the morning after the drug raid.
And taking a few steps back Shota finally sees them all together- the photos, the scarf, the plushies, the two inches of a body pillow peeking out from under a blanket that Shota fully refuses to look at or think about the implications of ever again - and he has a realization. He’s being stalked by the League of Villains, and none of them know why.
And he’s terrified.
“Erm,” Shota’s head whipped to his right to face the detective. Tsukauchi pulled on his collar as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. “Listen, I really hate to do this to you-“
“Then don’t.”
“-And I begged my boss on this one to at least let you have a couple days to process everything here-“
“Beg harder.”
“-And you really aren’t going to enjoy what happens next but-“
“Say it or I swear to god I will backhand you so hard that All Might feels it n his delicate ribs and coughs out five gallons of blood.” Tsukauchi stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and giving in.
“Nowadays the League has only been linked to occasional bank heists, public defacing of hero posters or merchandise- the most popular ones being Endeavor as well as all of the UA hero staff- and some mediocre fights. They’ve ceased all physical attacks on your students as well as stopped associating with other gangs that specialize in mass murder, selling drugs, and human trafficking. We used to think it was because their leader, All for One, had been imprisoned in Tartarus and are now trying to find some semblance of purpose or are trying to buy time to rebuild, but after tonight, there’s a possibility that there’s a different cause for that.”
“Like what?” Shota asked.
He has turned back away from Tsukauchi, eyes were still wide staring at the photo of him and Hizashi two years back at the cat café. It was the centerpiece on the wall, the one with the most space around it and printed in the biggest size. It was the only one where he looked even remotely happy despite someone taking a group photo with him in it, the ghost of a smile pulling at the younger version of himself’s lips and eyes lighting up as he was surrounded by cats.
It was also the only one where Hizashi was scribbled out.
“Excluding photos from your high school years, as well as the ones you said earlier had been taken by Mic on the phone that he lost a couple weeks ago, the photo taken the farthest back was from about three months ago, the night of the major drug raid. Three months ago just happens to be around the time that All for One got imprisoned... as well as when the League stopped being explicitly violent towards UA.”
“So... what?” The underground hero asked, taking one step closer to the wall, “The times matching up aren’t a coincidence, I know that much, but the only thing I’m getting from this is that you and your officers were wrong in their assumption. If the league has been taking photos of me for this long, and apparently storing them in their semi-leader’s room, then they must have something they’re building up to, right?”
“Maybe.” Tsukauchi said carefully, eyes still tracking Shota as he took another step closer to the cat café photo.
“We didn’t check the rest of Shigaraki’s room yet, there could be more photos we aren’t aware of. Either me in other areas, possibly at home or on missions, or photos of the other heroes at UA. So what, are they planning an attack? Are they trying to get a feel for my daily routine so they can catch me by surprise?”
In reality, Shota felt sick at the thought of one of the villains being smart enough to sneak into his home and possibly take photos of him, having the golden opportunity to kill him when he least expected it. But he can’t panic right now, he can’t do anything but figure this mystery out, not when his obliviousness may be the reasons his friends get hurt. He can’t be a burden to them with this, so he just won’t tell them.
“It’s a possibility, but that’s not what I had in mind. If they were trying to find your daily routine, three months would have been more than enough. And why would they need pictures from your past taken at random times?”
“Cat cafes. They see where I go in my free time. Not to mention Hizashi’s phone is mostly made up of him and Nemuri, they get to see their favorite places too.”
“I don’t see either of their photos displayed like yours are. And beside cat cafes, what about your second year sports festival? Or you making a very annoyed face at Nemuri dancing circles around you at your graduation? What use do those have?” Shota opened his mouth only to close it at Tsukauchi’s next words, “And why the scarf and plushies?”
“I- I don’t know, I don’t have an explanation for those yet. All I know is that they’re taking these photos for a reason and its purpose is to kill me or something,” Shota sighed, “Frankly that sounds a lot better than being stalked for any longer,”
“Do you know that, though? That their purpose is to kill you?” The underground hero gave the detective a weird look.
“I said ‘Or something’, maybe they want to kidnap and torture me, nothing’s off the table with these guys.”
“Still,”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“Think about it. The League has been vandalizing images of the other heroes at UA and beyond, but not once have they ever attempted to do the same to photos of you. Which clearly exist somewhere, since even underground heroes aren’t saved from having their face slapped on merchandise. And speaking of merchandise, why would they collect these excessive amount of items if their goal was to murder you? If they hate you that much, why make it so that every corner they turn in this room, there’s some item linked back to you?”
Shota breathing sped up the tiniest bit as the detective continued.
“And we’ve seen this behavior in other cases before. Heroes report that they keep seeing a familiar face being one of the few to almost obsessively buy merch, ask for signatures, and take photos of them. Photos beyond just fight aftermaths, tabloids, or fan meet and greets, but suspiciously close to the heroes true home at night. It goes to the point where eventually a warrant is granted, and in the civilian’s house we find this , what’s basically a- a shrine.
“So back to the beginning: The League needed a new purpose after the loss of their leader, they stopped targeting you and your class around the same time these photos started being taken, and so far none of this points to them wanting to harm you. And I keep saying ‘they’ and ‘them’ but realistically speaking, it’s only Shigaraki that has these items in his room. Shigaraki, the default leader of their group that must have the power to decide what they do and don’t do, which includes attacking you guys. Whatever he says goes.”
“So why?” Shota asked in frustration, taking another step closer to the photo so that he was only inches away, “Why doesn’t Shigaraki want to hurt them? Me? Why did he suddenly stop?” Tsukauchi gripped his pen,
“Maybe, just maybe, Shigaraki is filling his newfound free time with something he finds more enjoyable than random fights he knows will have no impact without his true leader. Maybe he found something to distract himself, hyper-fixate on while waiting for something else to give him purpose. And maybe his reasons for focusing on you aren’t as sinister as you assume it to be, despite his disturbing methods of doing so.”
“I still don’t know why he chose me to... distract himself with, but if it’s not for something sinister then what is it for?”
“Remember what I said about the civilians having what’s basically a shrine to the heroes in their room? You don’t have a shrine for someone you hate, you have it for someone you- well, worship.” He- what ?
“I- No. That’s impossible. Shigaraki’s whole motto is that he hates heroes, he wouldn’t worship one.”
“He doesn’t hate heroes, he hates All Might.” Like that changes anything.
“Yeah, and All Might is- I hate to say it- the nicest man alive. If even he gets this kind of treatment from Shigaraki then I expect something much worse for myself.”
“He hates All Might because he represents peace, represents the defeat of villains and anyone with weak or villainous quirks. You, on the other hand, are a hero known for having a villainous quirk who despite that hasn’t turned to the dark side. No offense.”
“None taken.” And he means it, he’s gotten over society’s prejudice by now.
“You may be a hero, but you’re essentially the anti-All Might. And if that’s not something that would catch Shigaraki’s attention then I don’t know what would.” Shota stood silently for a few moments before slowly shaking his head at the detective. It may have caught his attention, but is it really enough for hero worship? Tsukauchi sighed again, “I remember interviewing your students the day of the USJ, Midoriya to be specific. And he told me what he overheard Shigaraki say to you multiple times throughout the fight. Do you remember what it was?”
Sure, it was basically the cheesiest villain monologue known to man. He hates heroes, he hates society, he hates hero students, he talks about how he’s gonna fix it, all that jazz. There’s really nothing too special about- Shota paused, his brain silencing itself as a vague memory came to light.
The nomu was pressing down against his head, trying to force it to the ground. But despite the bone-crushing pressure, Shota’s head stayed up, blood streaming down his face as he activated his quirk and stared at Shigaraki. Erasure cancelling the younger man’s quirk just seconds before Tsuyu’s face would have disintegrated. It was one of the few moments that was silent for the USJ, Shigaraki staring at him through the grey hand on his face, his surprise evident about how Shota was still able to save his students' lives despite being pushed to the brink of death. And in that moment, as a small, crazed smile broke out against Shigaraki’s face, Shota heard six words before the world went black.
“You really are so cool, Eraserhead”
Shota’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes were still trained on the small smile of his younger self. But despite the light-hearted aura of the photo, there was nothing but gut-wrenching horror in the present moment. Shigaraki had said those words to him multiple times that day, but would say it again during their other fights. Every single time it was after some obscure comment that he assumed to have either no meaning or no purpose besides making a mockery of him. Only now he knows better.
And as he stands in this suffocating room, photos- personal photos that were never meant to be shared with anyone but his friends - staring down at him from every wall at every angle, and previous cases of these obsessive civilians filling his mind where he knew the motive and reasoning behind every single one of them, he had a single realization. One that made him feel like his veins filled with black ice and hundred pound medicine balls settled in his sickly feeling stomach. One he didn’t even have to say out loud before Tsukauchi said it for him, the quietly said words that would haunt him for who knows how long until they finally thought of a way to deal with this. Deal with him.
“I think Shigaraki has a crush on you.”