Chapter Text
“You’re fucking with me, right?” a dark haired hobo growls into his earpiece, looking down at the offending object. A manhole stared back at him, mocking him with a stench that was already wafting to his nose. ‘Zashi’s going to make him live in the shower after this mission.
“We wouldn’t be asking this of you if we weren’t sure about the intel, Eraser” a resigned voice replies in his ear, “The base is there, right under our noses.”
“Your intel from a source you can’t even trace or vet” Eraserhead mutters, beady eyes locked on the manhole leading into Mutsafu’s sewers.
“You know Nedzu looked over the intel with us,” Detective Tsukauchi insists, “One of most feared villains will be off the streets by the end of the night.”
“You owe me three months of coffee, from the nice cafe” the underground hero replies, lifting the manhole swiftly and silently as the detective facepalms a few blocks away.
Eraser’s boots land on the sticky, wet concrete, shrouded in darkness save for the moonlight peeking from the cracks of the manhole. The stench was ten times worse down here, a mixture of fecal matter, dead rats, and other smells the hero would rather not identify. Creatures scuttled away at the sound of his arrival, the only sound left being a river of waste flowing past and Eraser’s own footsteps. The plan was simple; locate the base, then call for backup once he has eyes on the villain, a renowned assassin for hire and blacklist dealer.. Eraser would hold off the villain until backup arrived, or try to apprehend the villain himself. He has the element of surprise on his side to tip the fight in his favor. Tsukauchi hadn’t liked the idea of Eraser going in alone, but he’s also the most reliable pro in the area for stealth and infiltration. Switching on a small but bright flashlight, the pro follows Tsukauchi’s directions through the maze of sewers. After ten minutes Eraser finds himself staring at a brick wall.
“Find the loose brick and hold it in for three seconds” Tsukauchi instructs, obviously reading off the intel in his hands. Eraser sighs and feel around the gross wall, half-surprised when his hand finds the loose brick sliding forward. After three seconds, a wall slides backwards then sideways, bright white lights greeting him.
“I’ll be damned” Eraser mutters.
“That should have bypassed the alarms” Tsukauchi instructs, “That’s all I have for you, Eraser. Call us when you’ve made contact.”
“Will do, Detective,” Eraser admits, silently stepping onto a gray tile floor after wiping sewer grime off his boots. He’s stepped into a long hallway as the wall closes itself swiftly and silently, now looking like a clean white wall. Eraser continues his trek carefully, searching for something that indicates a base of operations, where the villain known as Nightshade would likely be, or at least return to frequently. The villain is the cause of most of this decade's assassinations of famous political figures. With Nightshade's capture, the police would have everything they need to go after the politicians and other influential figures who hired the assassin. Eraser and Tsukauchi only allowed a few others onto this case, knowing if it got out the operation would be delayed as much as possible despite the overwhelming evidence of this base location.
Aizawa turns to avoid a dead end. It’s eerily silent, but Tsukauchi’s intel explained that the villain didn’t trust others to be his security detail, only the villain’s apparent “protege”. It was strange how the informat reached out to Tsukauchi (hacking his personal phone to send messages), and even stranger that even Nedzu couldn’t outhack the informant to uncover their identity. He and the detective agree that the informant has to be someone working closely with the villain, potentially the famed “protege”, raised and groomed by the villain to be another tool, as the informant described. So far this protege hasn’t made themselves known. Eraser imagines the protege to be a young adult from the way they were described, maybe the villains own child grown up. Another turn and Eraser spots a door that appears heavily encrypted with a handprint passcode along with a pin key code. Before he can move towards the door, swift movement behind him urges the hero to turn and strike out with his scarf. Before Eraser’s hand reaches the capture weapon, a sharp pain at the base of his neck makes his vision darken as he collapses to the tile floor. As darkness greets him, a pair of small, black combat boots circle his head.
~~~
Tap, tap, tap,
The girl sits in her sleeping quarters, the only sign of anxiety being the constant tapping of her pointer finger to her heart. She expected at the very least to meet a small team to infiltrate the base, not a lone underground hero. He has exceptional stealth skills, but they weren’t enough for “father” to miss. As soon as he sent her to capture the hero (capture, not kill), the girl knew that the hero’s fate was sealed. She can’t even pretend to lose the fight since she had the element of surprise. The hero attempted a counterattack with an unique capture weapon, a white scarf, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid a swift chop to the base of his neck. As soon as she brought the hero’s limp body back, Nightshade nodded to her with a pleased expression and sent her back here. The girl runs a hand over the surface of her head, checking the stark white strands for any flyaways. Her ebony skin looked darker with the hair color, causing Nightshade’s Associate to call her “Twilight”. She hates the name, hates anything that man gives her. If she’s not training or carrying out the villain’s orders, she’s lcoked in this enclosed space with just barely enough room for sleeping and holding a few items to make her presentable.
Tap, tap--
The crackle of the overhead PA system pauses the girl’s hand.
“The interrogation room” the grating voice orders. Schooling her expression, the girl rises, listening to the bolt to the door slide, allowing her a brief reprieve from the cramped space. It doesn’t take long to get to the interrogation room in the maze that is the base. The girl has had this path memorized for years. She knocks and the door slides open, revealing Nightshade pacing in front of the bloodied hero. His long silver hair swings in a low ponytail as he turns to meet the girl’s grey eyes with his red. Bloodied torture instruments were tossed aside on a metal table next to the chair the hero is strapped in. The hero’s black hair is matted with blood, and one of his arms hung loosely as if dislocated or broken. His eyes were closed gently, but his breathing indicates distress and pain.
“This hero is a tough one” the villain admits, “I won’t waste anymore time that I can spend finding the rat who leaked the location of my base.” The villain steps in front of the girl.
“You, my tool, will get his name, quirk, and who sent him. Is that clear?” The girl nods in confirmation.
“Good, you have come far since your last conditioning,” the villain praises, and it takes the girl all her power not to show her disgust. The girl steps forward to carry out her task, mind racing on how to get this injured hero out. She kicks the hero sharply, startling him awake as Nightshade leaves to scour Mustafu for his traitor. She wants to laugh at his wild goose chase, but the girl knows she’ll be punished--or worse, reconditioned--when she let’s this hero out alive. The hero blinks slowly, groggily taking in his surroundings until his eyes land on hers. He’s expressionless as he studies her.
“How old are you, kid?” he asks, and the girl pauses. This wasn’t the first question she expected, if any. And he called her a child. Sure, she’s 15, but no one cares how young she is, only if she gets the job done.
“Irrelevant” she replies, purposefully sounding deeper to throw him off. The hero openly frowns now, then something seems to click in his train of thought.
“You’re the protege?” he asks, horror in his voice. The girl nods sharply.
“And you’re leaving” she replies, moving to work on his straps. Once free, the girl hands him a piece of leather.
“Your shoulder is dislocated, bite down on this” she orders. The hero nods and takes the thick piece of leather, only slightly grunting as the girl sets his shoulder back in place. After creating a makeshift sling, the girl finds the hero’s gear in a secret compartment and urges the hero to follow her. Strangely, he follows without complaint.
“This exit isn’t used often, you will have a roughly a 15 minute head start before Nightshade returns,” the girl explains as the near an exit she found on accident years ago. She never indicated knowing of it, just kept it deep in her mind. ‘Just in case’, she always told herself, knowing she’d never use it for herself. The girl punches in a code and the door slides open, revealing a dark alley with moonlight peeking between buildings. The cool night air blew in, gently brushing the girl’s face and hair tauntingly.
“Let’s go.” The girl turns her head sharply to the hero. Was he talking to her?
“You don’t have any allegiance to him, this is your chance to leave” the hero urges, “Come with me and I can help you.” For a moment, a single, wonderful moment, the girl imagines stepping outside, being free. That image shatters into pieces when a dark chuckle from the buildings above alert them to company.
“I didn’t want to believe it until I checked my other sources,” the villain said, using his quirk, “Darkness Manipulation” to rappel down to the alleyway, cutting off the entrance to the open street. Random blood splatters pattern the villain’s tactical gear, the blood of those he probably interrogated and killed when he came to his final conclusion.
“Get inside and I’ll take care of you once the hero is disposed of,” Nightshade orders, cold eyes locking on the injured hero. From the shadows dark arrows fly towards the hero on both sides. The girl sucks in a breath and lets feelings of despair wash over her. Before Eraser can react, he’s suddenly on his butt on the other end of the alleyway, combat boots separating him from the villain. The girl stands tall despite multiple arrows fading away, leaving open, bleeding wounds. Her eyes and hair were jet black, then the color faded away revealing white blood stained hair and stormy gray eyes.
“You insolent girl!” the villain snaps, and the girl can’t hide the flinch she feels wrack her body at the man’s venomous stare.
“You are nothing but a tool at my disposal. You’ve done too much to be redeemed, so stop trying to be a hero and get over here” The villain growls. The girl feels her feet start to move when a capture weapon flies past her head. She dodges as Nightshade is pulled forward, straight into Eraserhead's thick boot with a loud crack! He binds the villain’s hands and fit with a simmering rage, the hero’s eyes growing red and his hair floating. They were a brighter shade of red compared to Nightshades, more like rubies or the core of a hot fire. Kind, even when they’re full of fury. When the hero trains his eyes on the girl, he fishes around his utility belt until he finds a bottle of antiseptic and rolls of bandages.
“Can you sit and let me bandage you kid?” he asks gently. The girl narrows his eyes, confused that the man has made a move towards her. No one ever asks her permission for anything. After another beat, she nods curtly, moving to sit on the sidewalk as far from Nightshade’s unmoving body as possible. It’ll be easier to run from his long distance attacks should he wake. The hero steps over the unconscious villain, making his movements slow and predictable until he’s kneeling before the girl, still not crowding her. The girl relaxes ever so slightly as he extends a hand. She relinquishes her bleeding arm, flicking her gaze from the wound to Nightshade as the hero carefully bandages her, cleaning and wrapping each wound with a gentleness that unsettles her.
“Do you have a name, or would you rather me call you kid forever?” the man grunts, eyes still trained on his task. The girl snaps her gaze to him in surprise, opening and closing her mouth.
“I call myself Kokoro.” she replies, then holds her breath. She’s never told anyone this, though who in her life would ask such a question? The hero’s eyebrows furrow for a moment at her phrasing. She said she calls herself Kokoro, not that she’s called Kokoro. Did she not know her given name? Or was she never given one by the villain or other adults in her life?
“That’s a nice name, it means ‘heart, mind, and soul’, right?” Aizawa asks. Kokoro nods, surprised and pleased with his response.
“My codename is Eraserhead, but you can call me Aizawa,” he says. Kokoro doesn’t reply, but her eyes flash in acknowledgement. Once Aizawa finished patching her up, wailing sirens and flashing lights on cars greet them. Kokoro visibly tenses as men pile out of cars towards them.
“Apprehend the villain!” he barks, redirecting the cops away from them, leaving only Tsukauchi, who Eraser pauses with a warning glare. The detective’s eyes flick from him to the girl, eyes widening with confusion as the girl levels him with a cool, emotionless stare.
“Hello, I’m Detective Tsukauchi” he says, and the girl’s eyes flash in recognition.
“Hello, detective” she says, “I am the informant.” The detective raises his eyebrows in surprise. She was telling the truth, but it’s hard to believe that a teenager out hacked Nedzu and an entire police force.
“Well it’s nice to meet you in person” he smiles, “We should get both of you checked out at the hospital.” Kokoro blinked, looking from the detective to the hero.
...that’s it?