Chapter Text
Eri loves to watch training exercises.
It really isn’t clear why. Shouta can’t claim to be an expert on child-rearing, but he’s decently sure that Eri is not the type of girl who seems as if she’d enjoy watching Bakugou threaten his classmates’ lives. There has to be some reason she always asks to come along, but Shouta doesn’t think it has anything to do with her enjoyment of the spectacle.
Maybe she likes analyzing their battle strategies.
(No, Shouta decides, she hasn’t spent that much time with Midoriya.)
Maybe she likes being fawned over. The other faculty members certainly always do.
(Am I not fulfilling her emotional needs? This is a distressing thought. He’s more than a failure as a guardian if Eri feels the need to sit around watching mock-battles for two hours just to get a few pats on the head from Hizashi. But the more he thinks about it, the more traction the theory gains. Sometimes Mirio comes to these things, too – is that it? Should he be working harder to facilitate those interactions, build up her support network? And Nemuri lets Eri sit in her lap – should he be doing that? Does she place a particular importance on physical affection? Does she need a maternal figure of some kind?
All points to consider.
None of which really helps him to explain why Eri asks to accompany him to every training exercise his class participates in.)
No matter the cause, he’s not surprised when she asks to attend a joint exercise between a few area hero courses. Worried, sure, because he can never predict how she’ll react to crowds or strangers or new situations and this exercise has to be at least four schools and eight classes strong – but not surprised.
(He packs sliced apples, as a distraction – just in case things take a turn for the worse.)
If she’s intimidated, though, she doesn’t show it. Shouta never knows whether Eri will react with fear or wonder to sights like this, but more often than not nowadays, it’s the latter – it seems to be now, too. That’s another lesson he’s learned lately: Eri’s curiosity grows with her comfort level, and as she learns to trust him, she becomes a little less shy with her questions and her enthusiasm.
He doesn’t mind. Partly because it’s important that he make her feel like she can talk to him, and partly because no question she could ask would possibly be dumber than the ones he gets from his homeroom on a daily basis.
(He could flip a coin to figure out whether Mineta or Kaminari would come up with the more pointless question to ask in class on any given day and he’d probably be right.)
“There’s so many people,” Eri murmurs, her eyes wide as she tries to take in the stadium where a team of students is setting up for the exercises. “Are they all hero students?”
Shouta nods. “Not all from UA, though.” He notices her hand tighten around his – maybe she is a little nervous after all, though she could just be excited. “You might still see someone you know, though.”
“Other…schools?” Eri turns her face up towards him. “Which ones?”
“Shiketsu High School, plus Seijin …” I’m missing one, aren’t I. “Well, we tried to get Seiai, but they declined” – why are you telling this to a seven-year-old? – “so we called in Isamu. And-“
“Ketsubutsu Academy!” a feminine voice cuts in.
“Right. Kets-“
Wait.
“You again?” Shouta mutters under his breath, even though he’d probably known in the back of his mind that this might happen.
Ketsubutsu was the first school to reach out when UA had proposed this exercise, after all. And Ketsubutsu meant Emi. And Emi meant…
This.
Inescapable torment.
Death by forced socialization.
“Do you know that lady?” Eri whispers, though she isn’t very good at whispering, and Emi hears her if her laughter is any indication.
“Yes,” Shouta says shortly, steering her towards the bleachers.
“Playing hard to get?” Emi calls after him. “Oh, I see how it is!”
“Leave me alone.”
Eri stops, turning her head to get a better look at Emi. “I think she wants to talk to you,” she comments, tugging on his arm. “Aren’t you gonna go talk to her?”
“No.” Shouta is vaguely aware that he’s probably setting a bad example for Eri, but he doesn’t particularly care – avoidance is a perfectly valid social strategy.
“Really, Eraser?” Emi stops, too, resting her hands on her hips. “Even your secret love-child has better manners than-“
“She’s not my love-child!”
Emi’s face blanches, and for once in her life she looks like she gets it. She hadn’t been involved in the Overhaul operation, but she has to have heard about it – maybe she’s made that connection. But she shakes off her seriousness in an instant and smiles softly, approaching Eri and crouching to reach her eye level.
“Sorry, Eraser,” she says cursorily, then meets Eri’s eyes. “So. What’s your name?”
Eri blinks rapidly, as if confused, then nods in recognition. “I’m Eri,” she says, shyly twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. “Are you and Aizawa-san friends?”
“Choose your next words carefully,” Shouta cuts in.
Because he knows how this is going to go.
“Oh, of course! He’s my future husband!”
And sixty follow-up questions from Eri, and inevitable disappointment when she realizes just how far fron the truth that is.
Or maybe “tell your father to go out with me!”
Because Emi’s always been too perceptive not to know that if Eri manages to convince him that, somehow, Emi’s presence would do her good, he’d have no choice but to go along with it.
But what she actually says is, “you could say that!”
And throws him an exaggerated wink.
“I hate you so much,” he mutters.
“No, you don’t!” Emi smiles brightly, brushing nonexistent dust from her shorts as she stands. “Well, I’ve got to go find my students, but I’ll catch you two later, hm?”
“That’s quite all right.” Shouta shoves his free hand in his jacket pocket. He knows that she knows that means don’t.
**
“You can make people laugh?” Eri’s eyes widen as if she’s never heard anything more miraculous. “With your mind?”
“Oh, you’re adorable,” Emi coos, ruffling Eri’s hair. “Eraser?”
“No,” Shouta says automatically.
“I’m stealing your kid,” Emi announces.
Eri looks slightly panicked at this, but then she looks up at Emi again – mischevious eyes, crooked smile – and that seems to reassure her. She smiles apprehensively.
“No, you’re not,” he replies. He can’t exactly explain the reasons that he and no one else is her guardian in public, but he doesn’t really imagine that he needs to.
“Aw, but she loves me!” Emi pouts, wrapping an arm around Eri’s shoulders. To his surprise, she doesn’t stiffen or flinch away like she usually does when she’s touched by someone she doesn’t know – he gets the (absolutely ridiculous) idea that Eri really does like Emi.
Of all people.
He truly has the most atrocious luck.
“No, she doesn’t,” he says.
Eri peers out at her guardian with all the betrayal she can manage on her face. “Why are you so mean to her?” she asks with that wounded pout she know she can’t resist.
“I’m not. I just know not to encourage her.”
Emi clucks her tongue. “That’s not very nice, Eraser.”
“It’s rational,” he says coolly.
Emi pouts, apparently having picked up on the fact that that technique works on him. “Really? We haven’t seen each other in almost a year, and this is how you act?”
“What am I supposed to do, turn down five marriage proposals in front of a kid who has no idea that you don’t actually mean a word you say?”
“Who says I don’t mean it?”
“This is not an appropriate discussion to be having in front of a seven-year-old!”
Eri looks affronted. It’s hard not to notice.
“Boring grown-up stuff,” Emi explains. “Nothing you’d even want to know, don’t worry.” She pats Eri’s head. “Not missin’ out. Not even close.”
“Okay,” she says so quietly that even Emi almost can’t hear her, and turns back to the match in time to cheer on (audibly) the 1-A team facing off with a group from Shiketsu.
(Even Shouta has to admit that it’s a pretty heartwarming sight.)
**
“Eri’s the girl from the Shie Hissekai raid, isn’t she.”
It’s been a few hours since the training exercise concluded when Shouta’s phone rings, and he’s not exactly thrilled to find that it’s Emi but he picks up anyway. He feels like he owes her that much for Eri’s sake.
“Yes,” he sighs, because as little as he enjoys Emi’s company (…in theory), he knows she’s trustworthy.
“She’s with you because of her quirk, right?”
“You have this all figured out, don’t you.”
“I honestly couldn’t think of any other reason that you’d be taking care of a little kid,” Emi explains. “I got curious.”
“Well, consider your curiosity satisfied. Good-“
“She’s amazing.”
“-night. I know that.”
“I’m not talking about her quirk, Shouta.”
It’s been so long since she’s called him anything but Eraser that goosebumps rise on his arms in response. “I agree.”
She laughs softly into the phone. “That’s a first.” She pauses, then adds, “I’m sorry I called her your love-child. I didn’t know.”
That had been inappropriate given the actual circumstances of his taking guardianship of Eri, but he knew she’d realized that, too. “Hardly the worst thing you’ve said.”
“No, but…I feel so bad,” she presses, and for once she sounds sincere. “If I’d have known how you actually started caring for her…”
“It’s fine.”
“All right.” He can hear her inhale through the phone. “How are you doing, then?”
“You called just to make small talk?”
“No, with her. As her stand-in parent.” He can practically hear Emi rolling her eyes. “That can’t be all that easy for you.”
“It’s not all that different than teaching. She has needs, and I attend to them.”
“Eraser…”
“What?”
“I saw you with her. I know it’s not like that.”
“Not like what?”
“A transaction.” Again, she laughs. “You make it sound like you’ve signed a contract or something, but anyone could tell that you really care about her.”
“Okay, and?”
“It’s sweet, actually. Mister Stiff-and-Silence having such a soft spot for a kid.”
Shouta has soft spots for many kids, not that he’d ever admit it, and he’s a little bit incensed at the implication that he doesn’t. “Emi, what exactly is the point of all of this?”
Emi never says anything pointlessly. He knows that well enough now to suspect an ulterior motive when she contacts him like this.
“Look, I know you’re…not that good at…feelings,” she says cautiously. “It’s probably kind of hard for you to take care of a kid.”
“I take offense at that.”
“Oh, don’t even try to deny it.”
“I’m not, but really, Emi. I’m a teacher.” He clears his throat. “It’s not like I have no experience with kids.”
“Yeah, but you’re famous for expelling students, so I kinda have to assume that you’re not the biggest fan of them.”
“Emi. The point?”
“I want to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Look. I like Eri, and she obviously likes me, right?” clearly, Emi isn’t deterred by Shouta’s lack of enthusiasm. “Parenting is rough, and you’re not always…the most nurturing person.”
Fair. At least not openly.
“That’s not an insult – it’s just who you are.” Emi’s breathing on the other end sounds a little shaky. “But it does mean that there might come a time when you actually need someone to back you up.”
“Thanks, but no.”
“I’d be good at it, Shouta.”
“Good at what, stirring the pot?”
He winces as soon as the words are out. He’s never had much fondness for Emi’s meddling ways, but she’s being sincere now, and he knows that counts for something. Nearly everything she says is a joke but right now, she’s dead-serious; that was probably too much.
“Well, I like kids,” she says, her voice smaller now. “And…it’s not like it counts for much, but I’m pretty good at making people smile.”
He considers the prospect, and decides that her assessment is accurate.
“I’ll think about it.” He can’t believe he’s agreeing to this, even tangentially. “No promises.”