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It is a cold, wet and altogether miserable night, and Aizawa can’t stop thinking about Shirakumo.
He sighs as he lands on a rickety old fire escape and pulls out his phone. Normally he’s alright; normally he can push through the guilt and carry out his duties as a hero. But for some reason, today, everywhere he looks seems full of reminders of his deceased classmate, and, despite Mic’s claims to the contrary, Aizawa is not suicidal. He can’t be distracted like this whilst on patrol. And so, with another sigh, he fires off a quick text to Nemuri.
She understands what he's going through and will cover for him, no questions asked.
But that still leaves him with at least an hour to kill. Him and Mic are renting together, and an early return will undoubtedly lead to many, many personal questions, closely followed by the dreaded ‘It wasn’t your fault’ speech. And Aizawa... He doesn't want to bring up those painful memories, because Yamada seems to be coping. And if Aizawa admits he's not, then Mic will look at him with such pity...
Aizawa never wants to be pitied by Yamada.
As such, he shifts, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the cold metal. It may be a hopeless endeavour, but he should probably make at least a token effort. Then his hand brushes against something furry and, surprised, he looks down.
“Meow!”
Really, this day does seem intent on reminding him of the past, Aizawa reflects as he stares down at the small grey cat. Although it's not wearing a collar, it doesn't appear to be scared of him as it stares at him for a moment; then, having apparently decided he is not a threat, it sits down next to him and looks at him expectantly.
“Hello there,” Aizawa chuckles as he gives it a tentative stroke. “What are you doing here?”
The cat doesn't deign to respond.
Aizawa doesn't really mind; instead, he focuses on the small animal, on the soft, wet fur. This is something alive, something real; now he just needs to take deep breaths, in-out, in-out...
Someone is watching him.
Aizawa can feel that familiar prickling on the back of the neck that means he’s being watched, but ignores it. Focuses on his breathing. Normally he would be concerned; normally, it could mean that a villain has spotted him, but today… Today, like on many other days when Shirakumo’s death feels so fresh and raw, he knows it’s just his imagination.
Ghosts don’t exist.
Shirakumo isn’t staring at him.
But then the cat seems to catch sight of something behind him; it lets out a faint meow, turns and darts away, leaving Aizawa staring after it in shock. Then he remembers those dumb paranormal stories his classmates would tell; animals can sense spirits. And if it’s not just his imagination, if there really is something there, then – maybe this is finally his opportunity to speak with Shirakumo, and…
“Shirakumo…” Aizawa takes a deep breath and turns around.
But it’s not the ghost of his deceased classmate staring at him.
Eraserhead finds himself staring straight at a little kid, face scrunched up as he peers at him through the window. The room he is in is dimly lit, and the main defining feature Aizawa can make out is a truly spectacular bedhead that seems to imply the kid has some sort of Anti-gravity Hair Quirk.
Aizawa winces as he stands up, ready to make a break for it. He may not have much experience with children, but he figures it’s safe to assume they don’t take kindly to strange, unfamiliar men lounging outside their bedroom window in the middle of the night. For reasons that are rather hard to argue with.
Except the child doesn’t scream bloody murder; instead, the boy grabs a torch off the bedside table and switches it on, illuminating his face and showing Aizawa that no, he doesn’t have a brother he never knew about, the boy’s hair is purple. He’s surprised when the boy mouths a familiar word at him, so surprised the boy repeats it twice before he finally responds.
Hero? The boy mouths.
Unsure what to do, Eraserhead glances down at his outfit. His capture weapon and yellow goggles are not exactly fashionable accessories; if he weren’t a hero, he would probably look very strange indeed. And anyway, if he doesn’t admit to being a hero, is the kid going to run screaming to his parents?
Aizawa nods.
The boy’s face lights up.
It is at that point that Aizawa decides he has reached his limit. He is used to his own guilt, to Yamada’s boisterous personality, Nemuri’s… lascivious comments and Iida’s general mothering, but he has no clue how to react in the face of such simple, unadulterated joy. So he turns and jumps off the edge of the fire escape (an action that would result in serious injuries if attempted by most people, and one which, although he isn’t aware of it, elicits an excited gasp) and then runs off. He’ll just have to deal with Yamada’s concern when he gets home.
But later, when he finally crawls into bed and pulls the covers up, he can’t help a small smile.
Shirakumo would have loved that boy.
***
To say Aizawa is surprised when he finds himself on the fire escape two weeks later would be an understatement. He was aware he was in the general area of the boy’s home, yes, but up until he dropped down onto the metal platform, he was firm with himself that he would not return.
He can’t even regret it when he straightens up, because the boy is sat at the window, head propped up on his hands, peering out into the night, trying and failing to keep watch. He looks seconds away from falling asleep, but the second his eyes finally focus on Eraserhead he jerks awake. His face lights up and he starts waving excitedly, making it quite clear he is ecstatic to once again see that random man staring at him through what is presumably his bedroom window.
Maybe Aizawa should contact social services.
Of course, Aizawa finds himself at a loss. Children are mysterious and stressful at the best of times, and his general approach is to avoid them until they have become more… adult. He has no clue why this boy seems so excited to see him, and can’t even ask, since there is a layer of glass between them.
Then again, the layer of glass is actually very much appreciated, now that he thinks about it.
Finally, Aizawa decides on a strategy. He’s pretty sure children have short attention spans; if he just doesn’t do anything interesting, the kid will get bored, right? So he turns around and settles down for a long wait. He tries desperately to ignore the small part of him that is trying to figure out how to look cool and mysterious, because Eraserhead is not cool. Eraserhead does not concern himself with what random children he meets on patrol think of him. Eraserhead does not care whether he resembles an overfed pigeon.
But still…
After a while, Aizawa glances over his shoulder and surprises himself with a small chuckle. He climbs to his feet, taking care not to make too much noise; the boy has finally fallen asleep. It’s clear he wanted to keep watch until the last moment, because his head is resting on his folded arms, inches away from the window. He’ll have terrible neck pain in the morning, Aizawa knows from experience, but at least now, he looks… Peaceful. Content.
Eraserhead turns to leave, but then he hesitates. Looks back. The boy waited for him for so long, it seems rude to leave without a word, but at the same time… At the same time, Eraserhead knows the value of a good night’s sleep, and doesn’t want to disturb the lad. Maybe he should leave some sort of message for the boy, some way to thank him for – for lifting Aizawa’s mood, but… Can the boy even read? Aizawa almost groans; he has no clue what children like.
What would Shirakumo or Mic do in this sort of situation? They were always much better with kids than…
Of course, an autograph!
Unfortunately, Eraserhead is nowhere near popular enough for Aizawa to actually have any experience signing autographs, and he mutters a few curses as he desperately roots through his pockets in search of anything that may help in this challenge. Finally, feeling rather like a hack and a fraud, he accepts defeat and makes do with a crumpled shopping list and a chewed up biro. At it’s core, autographs are just names written on paper. It will still count, even if Mic would be absolutely horrified.
And besides, it really won’t matter, Aizawa admits as he carefully folds the paper and sets it down on the windowsill, weighing it down with one of his protein bars. The boy will soon find a better hero to admire, someone that shines brightly like All Might, or who has Mic’s charisma. Someone who will have merch for him to buy, and proper autographs, and – a fanclub. Someone that isn’t an underground hero like Eraserhead, who never wanted admiration to begin with.
And yet, as he finally leaves, he can’t help but feel a little lighter.
***
The boy doesn’t seem intent on moving on from Eraserhead.
For several weeks, he seems to be everywhere Aizawa looks; when he’s out shopping, he glances over his shoulder and spot a familiar mess of purple hair poking out from behind a shelf. When Mic drags him to a mall for lunch, he glances up and finds the boy waving down from the floor above. When he takes down a bag-snatcher on his day off, he looks up and finds the child staring at him through the window of a café.
And of course, every few days Aizawa stops by the fire escape, and every time the boy is there, waiting. And every time his little face lights up, and every time Aizawa feels that old survivor’s guilt melt away just a bit.
Until one day he isn’t there.
Aizawa tries to not let it bother him, because the kid might have left to visit relatives. He waits a few days and tries again, but the child still isn’t there. A few more days – still no familiar mess of purple hair.
It’s weeks before he finally accepts the boy has obviously moved, and although it shouldn’t matter so much, it still hurts.
It was nice to have a fan.
***
Four years later
Aizawa never thought he would complain about the house being too quiet. But, as he shuffles out of his bedroom in search of coffee, he can’t help but wish he could hear something, anything that would mean he and Hizashi aren’t alone.
He pauses outside the guest bedroom and stares at the door for a few minutes. It’s so easy to fool himself into believing that the room is still occupied; that if he just pushed the door open, he’d find Hitoshi sprawled out across the bed, drooling on his pillow. And then the boy would wake up, and see Aizawa and his face would just light up like it was Christmas…
But there will never be another morning like that, Aizawa knows, and so he takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. He’s familiar enough with loss to know it will hurt for a time, but he’ll heal; and this isn’t like with Shirakumo. Hitoshi will find more people to charm, and new heroes, and if one day their paths cross again, he probably won’t even recognize Aizawa.
And when that day comes, Aizawa hopes it will not hurt as much as it does right now.
“Shota!” Hizashi gasps as he sits up in bed. “What are you doing here?!”
“What are you doing here?” Aizawa retorts, although he doesn’t really need an answer. There are very few reasons why his boyfriend would be curled up in Hitoshi’s – in the bed. Especially considering the mass of crumpled tissues littering the floor.
“Oh, I just…” the Voice Hero hesitates, obviously trying to come up with an appropriate excuse. Then he slumps over and, with a sigh, admits, “…The pillow still smells like him.”
Aizawa manages a smile at that, although it quickly slips. The room is still littered with reminders of its former occupant. There are drawings taped to the walls, most featuring cats, Eraserhead, Mic or Izuku or a combination thereof. An All Might mug sits on the bedside table, and Aizawa spots a lone crayon lying halfway under the bed. Someone even scrawled the words ‘Hitoshi’s room’ on a piece of paper and hung it right by the pillow, obviously not wanting anyone else to see it.
They're all such small, tiny details that would only take an hour to remove, but the thought of it - of removing those last traces of Hitoshi - causes Aizawa's heart to twist painfully.
“…Do you think we made a mistake?” he finds himself asking as he joins Mic on the bed.
“No!” Hizashi gasps. “No, of course not! Hitoshi needed us, and – we’re heroes! You’re Eraserhead!...”
Eraserhead. Of course, he has been Eraserhead for years now, but - he doesn't think he ever felt such a heavy burden as when he looked at Hitoshi there, in Midoriya's living room, and realized he had once again failed as a hero. Here was a boy who had trusted him - still trusted him, despite everything - and Aizawa had simply walked him home. Aizawa had left him to be hurt by an adult who didn't deserve such a kind, caring boy...
He's Eraserhead. The least he can do for his only fan is be his hero.
“No, I mean…” Aizawa clears his throat. He never, not in a million years thought he would find himself in this sort of situation, but – Hitoshi is kind of a one in a million kid. “…Do you think it was a mistake, letting him go back?...”
For just a second, his boyfriend stares at him. And then, because Hizashi has years of experience and can understand Aizawa’s feelings better than he can himself, the Voice Hero cheers and throws his arms around him.
“Oh, Shota!” Hizashi half-laughs, half-sobs. “I knew you loved him too! And you’re right, he belongs with us! You know, dad can probably tell us what we need to do to get approved, and – Midoriya! He’s got to have some influence, so maybe Iida can put in a good word for us! Oh, if we adopted Hitoshi, he’d be able to play with Izuku and Tenya and – that other kid! Oh, Shota, I love you so much!”
And with that, the hero presses a kiss to Aizawa’s jaw, jumps up and runs out of the room; then he darts back in for another kiss and takes off again.
With a huff of amusement, Shota collapses onto his back. What is his life coming to, that he is willingly sentencing himself to a lifetime of irrational behaviour, of the inevitable karaoke nights and all the other... Things that come with children.
But somehow... Somehow he can't quite bring himself to be even the least bit annoyed. Because he remembers Hitoshi; his smile as he sang Let it go for the hundredth time, his yawns as he emerged from where he'd been hiding to welcome Aizawa back from patrol... A lifetime of that doesn't seem so bad, and Aizawa chuckles as he realizes Shirakumo would have loved Hitoshi.
Aizawa chuckles as he closes his eyes and rolls over, because he might as well take a nap while he still can. But there’s a faint rustling from under the pillow and, confused, he sits up. Picking the pillow up only deepens the mystery, because there’s nothing underneath it. He runs his hand over the mattress, but doesn’t find an answer; then he turns his attention to the pillow itself.
As he tugs at it a few times, he just barely makes out the noise again. So he pulls the pillowcase off, and finds, tucked inside it, a small piece of paper.
His confusion only grows when he unfolds it, because it’s just a shopping list. What would a shopping list be doing inside a pillowcase of all places? Did Mic accidentally put it there when he was preparing the room? Or…
Aizawa’s stomach drops when he realizes it probably belongs to Hitoshi. And, for the boy to hide it like this, it must be something he treasures. The shopping list part is still puzzling, but – could this be all Hitoshi has left of his parents? Could it be that he was out shopping with his family when they tragically died, and this list is his last happy memory of them? Or…
And then Aizawa turns the paper over, and there, scrawled in awkward blue letters, is one familiar word.
Eraserhead.