Chapter Text
Shota sighed as he stood in front of his apartment, his stuff held loosely (but not too loose; anything could happen) in his hands. His gaze flicked from the key hooked to his hip to the door with the keyhole he needed to unlock. His eye twitched as he began to set down his stuff when he heard quick shuffling behind him as a voice perked up.
"Sir, let me help you!" A woman exclaimed, quickly grabbing his stuff from his hands and, surprisingly, keeping it in her arms. She was wearing a simple black-patterned dress with an attached apron, the outfit clean and fresh. Dark brown hair cascaded in shiny curls past her ears and stopped just at her shoulder blades. Muscles were prominent on her limbs and her hands seemed quite sturdy, as if she had been lifting heavy items for a while. Her eyes were big, round, and full of emotions that made Shota's head hurt with just trying to think of all the things she may be feeling. "I'm sorry I got here so late, I was only just told you had arrived! I usually help people get their stuff in."
"...Thanks," he muttered, his now-free hands taking the key from its hook and unlocking the door. The simple apartment in front of him had the necessities and that was really all he'd asked for from the building. He didn't need bouquets of money or big mansions to flaunt as a hero. He just needed to keep it simple and downgraded to deflect any attention he may get. As an underground hero, he wasn't meant to be seen. Better to blend in and be forgotten yet still manage to save people and do his job.
He stepped back as the woman hustled in, carefully putting his stuff down by the couch. She dusted any grime from the box off of her skirt, flashing a bright grin as she set her knuckles on her hips.
"Will you need anything else, sir?" She asked politely. Her dress lightly danced around her shins.
"I do not believe so, no," he answered bluntly, flicking his key into the pocket of his pants, zipping it closed. Precautions.
"Great! Also, please excuse how random this may sound, I think you should get along great with that kid a door over. Don't know why, but you bring off the kind of vibes of a guy that may work with teens explicitly. He's kinda closed off as well. If you do get to know him, please tell me what he's like if he's alright with it! Anyways, have a good day, sir!"
With that, the woman darted out of his room, leaving as quickly as she arrived with a close of his door. At least she didn't leave the door open, he mentally sighed as he went over her personality. He listened to her heavy footsteps, committing them to memory before he thought about the kid next door. I'll introduce myself if we ever run into one another. I don't feel like starting a conversation with what's most likely a moody teen. I work with enough of those. And nobody ever thought I had the 'vibes' of a kid person. I have no idea how she came to that conclusion.
He didn't think about how she was correct as he moved around, checking the connected kitchen that shifted from carpet to tile. He ran his hand along the counter top, his gaze landing on the microwave. If it worked, he could use all of the instant-dishes he could ever need. If not, he'd just use the instant-dishes that worked on the stove. But, most likely, he'd just have jelly packets.
He heard a door open outside, recognizing it to be the one to the right of his. He had been given the room at the very end of the hall and he wasn't exactly complaining. All he had requested was access to the roof if he should need it in the case of an 'emergency.' It was really just so he could leave his window and be able to swing to the top of the next building easier.
He listened for footsteps, but oddly enough, he couldn't detect any. There was a knock at his door which raised his brow. Why such silent feet for just walking over to a neighbor's apartment? He sighed and walked to the door, opening it to be greeted by a short teen with a hood drawn over his head and a face gaiter covering his nose and mouth. Bright green eyes stared at him through messy green curls.
"Can I help you?" Shota drawled, examining him closely. No telltale signs of what he was feeling were shown. He noted the container in the boy's hands which he happened to hold out in front of him swiftly, expression as blank as can be. There was a sticky note on top of it reading, 'Welcome. I made you nikuman and katsudon. I hope you enjoy.' He blinked at the food being offered but accepted it. "Thank you."
The boy only bowed before straightening and creeping back to his room. The footsteps were light, and he could hear them now that the door was open. They were still harder to hear than the average person's gait. He stood in the doorway for a moment more before closing the door and locking it. He walked to the counter, setting the food down and prying the lid off. Fresh nikuman and katsudon waited within as the note had said. It was still slightly warm and he closed the container once more to prevent it from faster spoiling. He opened the fridge, fitting it inside in a shelf with an abundance of bottled waters among other beverages. He snorted. They really enjoyed giving him things beyond what he had paid for.
He turned back to his stuff that the woman had set down and started unpacking, his eyes roaming over all of his belongings and making sure he had gotten everything. He had only brought a large box since he didn't wear or use much in his day-to-day life other than his hero uniform and a casual outfit. He brought toiletries too, but those were common necessities.
"Shit. I didn't introduce myself," he groaned, slouching. "One more thing to do during a half-assed conversation that I'm sure wouldn't go well."
He grumbled to himself as he pulled out his yellow sleeping bag, immediately sealing himself inside without a second thought. He curled up in it with a few grumbles to himself about human decency and how everything was a waste most of the time.
And then another knock reached his ears. He lightly hit his head against the ground as he unzipped the sleeping bag and crawled out, slumping over to the door. He opened it, looking at another person who seemed to also have food for him. He didn't even try to mask his annoyance.
"Sorry to disturb you, good sir, but I made you something you may like!" A man greeted, holding it out for him. He just sighed and took it from his hands, noting the cold feel to it. "Hope we can be good neighbors to you!"
"...Okay," Shota muttered, closing the door in his face. He placed the food down next to the katsudon container, checking its contents with a bleary eye. He didn't even look at it fully when a smell of bitter almonds hit his nose. It was normally harder to smell, so the person trying to poison him was obviously new to this sort of thing. He groaned loudly and pulled his phone out, calling Tsukauchi. There was no reason to poison him so early on.
"Aizawa?" The voice of the detective greeted him with a question in his voice.
"Someone tried to give me poisoned food and failed," he growled into the phone, his mood sour from the occurrence.
"...I'll send someone over," Tsukauchi sighed, the sound of a button being pressed coming through the line. "Assuming you don't want to take care of them yourself?"
"I want some fucking sleep."
"Well, find a picture of the person and tape it to your door and the officer I'm sending will get the person without disturbing you. Also, if you could leave the food outside as well?"
"Alright, never mind, cuffing him and walking him over is easier since I can just transfer into patrol afterwards."
"You're sure?"
"Yup. Be over soon with the food and a man being dragged by his feet," Shota stated, hanging up a second after. He grabbed a pair of Quirk-suppressing handcuffs and stuffed them into his other pocket, bring the key to his apartment out as he picked up the poisoned food. He opened the door, locked it from the outside, and approached the teen's door, knocking.
There was quiet shuffling from inside before a lock clicked and the door swung open. The boy, in the same clothes as before, gave merely a tilt of his head.
"Who else on this floor usually brings food to new neighbors?" He asked.
The kid held up each individual number for the man's room number, expression never changing.
"Perfect. Did the last person who live in my room-"
A singular finger was held up, making him pause. The boy dug in his pocket, bringing out a miniature white board and marker. He wrote swiftly on it before turning it around. 'Last person died of supposed food poisoning.' He erased it before writing something new on it and bringing it back up. 'Died the day they moved in. He poison them?'
"Seems likely. Thanks for the help."
He didn't leave when he noticed the boy was writing something else. 'Do you know sign?'
"I do."
My name is Midoriya Izuku. Your name. It was stated as it was since there was no expression to Midoriya's face. Sign language was reliant on a person's emotions shown through their movements or face, but since he didn't show much from either, it only came out as straightforward statements.
"Aizawa Shota."
They stared at each other for a moment more, a slight tilt coming from the boy's head and narrowed eyes from the pro. Then Midoriya closed the door without another sign. The man just sighed and turned away, walking to the apartment number given. He knocked on it harshly, setting the food down and bringing out his handcuffs. There was a loud bang and an 'ow!' before the door opened and the same man popped out.
"Heeeey--wait, why do you have handcuffs?" He blinked.
Shota gave him a deadpan expression and snapped his fist back and into his face, causing the man to fall to the floor, holding his nose. "Karma. Now, hands behind your back."
The man complied out of fear, his nose bleeding heavily. He picked up the food in one hand and pressed his iron grip into the man's shoulder, closing his fingers around the scrawny limb. The pro hero sighed, escorting him out and onto the elevator down to the lobby. No struggle befell him as he led him out and onto the street, many stares drawn to the pair.
"Wh-what did I do wrong?" He stuttered out.
"Not even worth a dead man's ass," Shota snarled to himself. "I'm not even going to answer that question since you are well aware what you did."
He led him a few blocks down, his stride long and quick to keep the man on his feet. His dark look made people give him a wide berth and a quick glance before looking away. He was glad no one was daring to interrupt him on his already worsening day. Or night. It was almost time for patrol. He typically worked from eleven to four and afterwards goes to Yuuei at six. But as of right now, there wasn't much else to do at Yuuei besides for tutor certain students who needed pointers during battle since he had expelled his entire first year class. He has only stuck with a class from year one to three once since it had been a damn good one. But since the others haven't had as great outcomes, he's just been sending them all on their way to different teachers. He didn't think the upcoming school year would have much of a difference.
His gaze snapped to the pathetic man he was dragging around when he heard a whimper. He grunted and walked faster, having zero sympathy for the man since he had killed someone and gotten away with it. He was going to have a long prison sentence. He was going to laugh at the court case and how quickly it was going to be resolved.
Once they arrived at the police station, Shota shoved the glass door open with a quick shoulder. The man began to flail, tears flowing down his face.
"I don't want to go to prison! I didn't mean it! I swear I didn't!"
"You didn't mean to put cyanide in my food and kill that person in the apartment before me?" He spat, anger simmering at the surface.
"I didn't!"
"Well if you want a shorter sentence then you'll admit to everything so you won't get lying under oath as a charge as well," he growled, shoving the man to an approaching officer who reacted quickly and dragged him away towards the interrogation room. He swiped a hand down his face, rubbing the scruff on his chin.
"A quick arrest I see," Tsukauchi spoke as he approached, a sympathetic gesture being given through a coffee held his way.
"Fucking pathetic man," Shota grumbled, grabbing the coffee from him and downing it in very little time. "I can already tell patrol will be a pain in the ass."
"Remind me why you moved again?" The detective asked while watching the murderer plead to be let go only to be kicked in the back of his leg and pulled against the floor by his feet.
"Fukukado found my address," he snorted as he saw the interrogation room door slam once the two disappeared.
"Anything you're looking forward to in the new complex?"
"I don't know if it's something to look forward to, but there's an interesting kid who lives next door."
"Age range?"
"Probably fourteen to fifteen. Rather short though."
"What has peaked your interest, my fine fellow?"
The pro shot him a glare for the unnecessary title but continued with what he was saying. "He keeps his face covered, except for his eyes. Nobody in the complex knows anything about him. He doesn't speak and uses sign to communicate."
"What's his name?" Tsukauchi asked, an odd tone to his voice.
"Midoriya Izuku."
"Ohhhh, that one," the detective nodded to himself.
"Do you know him?" Shota flicked his gaze to watch Tsukauchi's expression morph to that of thoughtfulness.
"Not on a personal level. He sometimes drops off analyses of different villains we can't seem to figure out. It helps us capture them without putting our men out of commission."
"Never talks?"
Tsukauchi shook his head, a small smile on his face. "He doesn't talk to anyone. Ever. He's actually known for being very generous. Comes around everyday to make sure we're doing alright. I'd say most everyone is pretty fond of him."
"...Hm."
"He does come in injured at times. We can't attempt to help him without him running away and that just makes us worry more. He's pretty agile even with a bad hit against him and it's pretty scary because if he were hiding one of the toughest injuries one can get, I doubt he'd stop moving."
"Do you think it could be abuse?" Shota asked, slipping into a seat by the door and the detective joined him with a slight puff.
"I don't know. Doesn't flinch away from touch, but he tenses at fast moving limbs. Constantly at peak-awareness and is always searching the room or area for what I can assume to be easy exits. The only reason he never looks around the station for exits is because he knows where each one is and has memorized the floor plan," Tsukauchi sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Very resigned. We haven't gotten to see him all day but now that you've said that you've seen him I can stop worrying."
"A problem child?"
"Most definitely," he laughed at the nickname. "He's quiet and hides a lot but I know he's a good kid. I think he's just a little misguided is all. Self-conscious too."
The door to the police station swung open slowly, the very boy in the flesh walking in with several boxes of donuts in his hands. It looked like too much for such a short boy to be carrying but he seemed to have zero struggle.
"Midoriya-kun, let me help you!" The secretary ran forward, taking a few boxes from his arms to bring it over to the counter. They set their loads down, Shota watching closely. "Dear me, how were you carrying all those! Just half was heavy enough! Did you get those for everyone?"
Midoriya nodded, just a tad bit quicker than he'd seen back at the complex. They boy dug into his hoodie pocket, bringing out a few shibazakura flowers. She gasped in surprise, cooing when she realized why he'd gotten them.
"I didn't know you listened to my rambles," she smiled kindly at him, ruffling his hood since she couldn't touch his hair. "Make sure to leave some yen for yourself now, Midoriya. You deserve all of these things and more."
That's where Shota saw the kid falter. He didn't think he deserved it. Self-worth issues? Self-image too?
"Despite everything he does for us..."
He turned his attention back to Tsukauchi, searching the troubled man's face.
"...I don't think he's ever let us do something for him in return."
"Do any of you know sign language?" Shota asked, garnering his attention so as to look him in the eyes.
"I do. Does he use it?"
"He does. Does he not use it when attempting to communicate with you all?"
"No, but he could have asked if I or another officer knew it," Tsukauchi groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I could have asked, god damn it! It gets so busy in here though..."
"I don't think you should worry about it if you can ask tomorrow."
Footsteps dragged them away from their conversation, Midoriya's dark gray shoes coming into view. He gave a small wave to the two, a box of donuts in one hand with the top open for them to pick through. Tsukauchi thanked him with a small smile, choosing plain glazed while Shota chose a cinnamon sugar one.
"Thanks, Problem Child," the pro said easily, taking a bite out of the donut as the boy just tilted his head before moving on.
"That means he's either intrigued, confused, or both," the detective laughed to himself, pressing his back into the seat. "I think you two may take a liking to each other despite what you may think. There's just some sort of understanding you two share that I can't seem to crack."
"I don't think I'd want him to understand some of the things I do."
Tsukauchi gave him a sad smile, though there was a hint of something else in it. What? "Sometimes, we can't control what the youth sees of our flaws, no matter what we wish we could."
They went back to watching him weave through the officers, a melancholy feeling settling over the two of them. There was just something about the fact that children nowadays had to see so much of the world around them. So much that was terrible and corrupt right down to its rotten core. It drove the feelings of awe towards Quirks and people in general to the ground. Quirk marriages still happened, even if it was illegal. So much they couldn't stop because it happened everywhere without end. And then there were horrible people in the world that became heroes to abuse their power and wreak havoc among citizens and villains to feel a great sense of power. A rush of dopamine, a rush of adrenaline and the justification of slamming someone to the ground.
The people of this day and age were wrong in these ways, this Shota knew well. He had come across heroes and villains alike that were self-centered and careless with the lives around them with little care of the consequences. So many people followed this idealistic view of a hero that was just so wrong because the heroes were wrong in all of those impossible traits. No one was full and pure as heroes were made to be. No one was kind without end because at some point they would reach their limit and just stop. It was inevitable. The worst part was the children were growing with the bad parts of society and no one was there to teach them that it was bad. They thought abuse was normal, that suicide was normal. A world of Quirks, superpowers, and they were thrown into hellish ground with abusers and ignorant assholes. But nobody gave two shits, so nothing ever changed and they were stuck living in the flawed cycle that would repeat without end.
He had seen so much. He had seen murder, abuse, neglect, every crime that violated human rights, yet people went about their days, never thinking about all the ways the world was wrong. They talked easily with those who hurt their peers, mentally and physically. No one did anything, too blind to notice, or too unwilling to do anything. It was all for nothing, the world built on unstable pillars of promises that whispered fame and worship. When it came down to it though, it was very little that made people notice them. What differentiated one person who did the same thing over and over again to someone with so many bright ideas that they couldn't get in the air? It was frustrating. An ill taste to one's tongue.
Shota sighed, standing up with a crack of his back. "Well. I've spent some of my time questioning humanity so I think I can make my way into my patrol."
"...Could I ask a favor?" Tsukauchi spoke up, turning his head up to look at him. He cocked a brow in return. "Could you bring Midoriya back to his apartment on your way out?"
He gave a gruff noise in response, an agreement. Relief turned up on the detective's face, the man releasing a light sigh.
"Thank you. I just have a feeling the streets aren't so safe tonight."
"Midoriya," Shota called to the boy who was writing to an officer that he briefly remembered was called Sansa. He perked at his name and glanced over, tilting his head again. It reminded the pro of a curious cat. "I'm going to bring you back to your apartment."
Midoriya blinked owlishly back at him, tilting his head just a little more before writing his goodbye to the man with the cat head. He strode over to him, gaze flickering from the detective to the hero.
"No worries, Midoriya, I just don't think the streets are safe tonight," Tsukauchi chuckled. "You be safe now, alright?"
The kid just gave a small nod, his expression never changing. It didn't look like he had smiled the entire time they had been at the station, but that could be countered with the argument that the gaiter hid his mouth and there was no way to tell if he wasn't smiling. But neither had seen the telltale squint of ones' eyes when someone smiled. Plus his gaze hadn't changed once to show off any emotion. Shota briefly wondered if his Quirk was to conceal any emotion he felt.
"I'll see you later, Midoriya. Take care of yourself, Aizawa-san."
The two of them nodded before Shota led the way, opening the door for the two of them, Midoriya accepting the gesture with a brief signed 'thank you.' He just nodded and walked outside as well, beginning the stroll back to their complex.
Was that man arrested. Midoriya signed, his blank expression again rendering it as a statement rather than a question.
"Yes. He was. I can assume he's going to be in prison for a long time," he responded easily, the boy nodding slightly to himself. He watched him zone out, his green eyes clouding over with a faraway look to his empty gaze. What had possessed him to cleanse himself of every telling emotion? What had people done to him?
They kept along their route in silence, neither saying a thing to one another, though Shota had to pull the kid out of the way of a wayward person and a pole once or twice. He had a feeling that he needed some sort of escape though so he let him keep in his mind as they walked back home.
Don't get attached. It's temporary, he scolded himself, lifting the boy to prevent him from stepping into an open manhole cover as they crossed the street. Problem Child.
When they arrived back at the complex, he awoke the boy from his stupor. Midoriya jolted, immediately signing an apology for zoning out.
"It's fine. Go get some rest now, kid."
He just nodded and scrambled away to the elevator. Shota sighed, pulling a hand down his face to leave the building once more. He turned his mind from a wayward child to an ever-approaching school year.