Chapter Text
Shouta knew this day would come.
Honestly, he didn't know why the Commission did these formal trials. They were all private and they had all the evidence they needed. So why did they throw the victims and loved ones under the bus with these godforsaken excuses for trials?
Shouta wondered if it was for him. If it was to punish him for not seeing the treachery in the face of his beloved. For the trust he never should have given.
Heroes didn't have the luxury of trust.
You trusted yourself and no one else. You did your job and everyone else's too so that the day got saved in the end.
Because when you fail, there's no one to pick up your slack.
As long as the three of us stick together…
Leaving Eri with Mirio and Shinso with 1-A, Shouta began the longest day of his life.
Walking up the steps to the Hero Commission offices, Shouta’s new nervous habit showed itself: the spinning of the thick gold ring on his left ring finger. The ring that he usually hid with red edged fingerless gloves.
The ring that reminded him of why he was here.
Scrubbing at his face, Shouta took a deep breath.
I am here so Shinso can be a hero. I am here because I am a hero and someone must be.
Shinso. The kid had been there the whole time. Stowed away in the car apparently. Saved Shouta from making a decision that he might regret.
Or took Shouta away from his family, on bad days he didn't know which.
But Shinso's actions weren't done by someone with a license. So they were technically classed as illegal vigilantism. Shinso had begged for the charge. Had begged to be allowed to be there today. To spare Shouta.
Because Shinso knew; Shinso had heard. Shinso alone was there for the day Shouta’s life fell apart.
Well, aside from Zashi. But could he even count Zashi anymore?
He would always count Zashi.
So Shouta Aizawa went up the stairs of the Hero Commission with the air of a man walking to his own execution, covered in the dirt that he dug from his own fresh grave.
As a witness, Shouta had been sworn in.
He told the story with crisp, efficient ( brutal ) words. Of missing Eri, of seeking her out. He told them of Hizashi, of Oboro. He wielded the words with the finesse of a blade master: sharpening his tongue on his own shredded soul.
"Any questions for the witness?"
A lawyer came over to him: he wasn't sure who the lawyer even belonged to.
"Can you please clarify your relationship with Yamada Hizashi, formerly Pro Hero Present Mic?"
"We're married," Shouta replied shortly.
"I see," the lawyer said. "Do you think your emotional closeness to the situation would prevent you from being an accurate witness?"
"No."
"Explain please," the lawyer demanded.
"If my emotional closeness to the situation was a factor at play, I would not be here with you today," Shouta’s voice was dead. "I would have gone with my husband and child instead of getting Eri away from the League. But it was not. And I did not."
"Who's to say you're not the new spy?" The lawyer demanded.
Ah. There it is. There's the stick.
"That's illogical," Shouta said shortly.
"How so?" This lawyer needed to be taken down a peg or two.
Instead of speaking, Shouta rolled up the right sleeve of his hero uniform, revealing a starburst shaped scar over his elbow.
"Since the reminder of my facial reconstruction and subsequent quirk ability reduction after the USJ isn't enough," Shouta replied. "Here is the scar from where Shigaraki Tomura atomized my elbow down to the tendons. Why would I join those who did that to me?"
"No further questions."
And then they brought him in.
Hizashi looked awful. Wasted away from skinny strong to just plain skinny as his muscles atrophied. He wasn’t locked up the way All for One was, but he was stuck in a soundproof room alone. For someone so personable, that was likely a hell. His dark circles rivaled Shouta’s. Instead of his usual clothing, all leather and tight pants, he was wearing a simple white jumpsuit and shoes. The shade washed him out- the only bit of color about him were his swirling green eyes.
Shouta swore there was something like regret in Hizashi’s eyes when they met his own.
After Hizashi was sworn in, they began to ask him questions.
“Why did you agree to work with the League when they approached you?”
Wasn’t this on his report? Why were they making him listen to this again?
“In the space of twenty four hours,” Hizashi said in an empty voice. “I lost the only two people who gave a shit. One died, the other broke. After graduating from UA, I was lonely and afraid, and I was starting to see the cracks in this,” he gestured around him. “Bullshit. They showed up and after a while, I decided to stick around.”
“Do you think the actions of your comrades adversely contributed to your ultimate decision?”
Hizashi stared at the lawyer, then slowly began to laugh. It wasn’t his normal, bright laughter, instead it was a sarcastic, painful thing.
“I can’t decide if this is pathetic or hilarious,” Hizashi stated. “Poor Eraserhead brings in the fucking UA Traitor and you’re still trying to throw him under the bus.” Shouta knew that only he recognized the sympathy and anger flickering in those green green eyes.
“Explain,” the lawyer said, looking interested now.
“This shit right here is part of the problem,” Hizashi said. “I’m sure you have Eraserhead’s testimony. You met the conditions to get mine. And yet you’re still holding this farce when we both know that you have everything you’re going to get from me.
“How many families did you do this shit to?” Hizashi looked almost insane for a moment. “How many families did you punish for their loved ones’ decisions? How many children did you take? How many good heroes have been taken down on your watch?”
Shouta wasn’t breathing. Instead, his mouth was shaping the names of his students. His daughter. The people who he stayed for. The people who needed him.
Then he noticed that Hizashi’s anxious fiddling and tapping wasn’t anxious at all. It was a message.
Love you SleepyCat. Love you SleepyCat. Love you SleepyCat. Love you SleepyCat.
His sign name. Shouta made the tiniest of gestures.
MusicHeart.
Hizashi’s hands froze for a moment.
Love you.
Hizashi’s hands resumed their random tapping and movements at the sight of Shouta’s returning sign.
Sorry sorry sorry sorry.
Yes.
UnicornDaughter UnicornDaughter UnicornDaughter UnicornDaughter
Missing you.
Love her love her love her love her love her
Message.
Miss you miss you miss you miss you miss you
Miss you.
Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry
MusicHeart .
Shouta kept eyes on everyone nearby as he continued his silent conversation with Hizashi. He prayed no one recognized the sign language but couldn't stop any more than he could keep from jumping in front of his problem children when they were in danger.
This was… this was agony. He had to sit there stone faced as the Commission asked Zashi all the questions Shouta was dying to.
How did you do it?
What did they want with the girl?
Did you marry another pro hero out of necessity?
"Give me my ring back," was Zashi’s reply to that last. Shouta had to fight off the urge to scream.
"What?" The lawyer replied.
"Give me my ring back and I'll answer that question."
"Why?"
"I want it."
The lawyer turned.
"Pro Hero Eraserhead."
Shouta stood.
"What do you know about this ring? Any reasons why he shouldn't have it?"
"Solid 24 karat gold," Shouta said in a dead voice. "Words engraved on the inside of the band. Unless your prison is in some way weak to gold, you're probably okay to give it to him."
"Thank you," the lawyer said, placing the item at hand on the edge of the witness stand. Shouta stared at it, unable to listen to Zashi. Not when he already knew the answer.
I lied about many many things, Shouta, but I didn’t lie about this.
His fingers crept towards his own matching band, hiding under Zashi’s own gloves. Shouta just watched those hands, those hands he knew better than he knew his own. The scars and scrapes and that one spot where Hizashi had accidentally stabbed himself with a pair of scissors in the third grade. Shouta watched those long thin fingers pick up the gold ring and slip it on.
Shouta felt something break inside him as he watched.
His fault his fault his fault his fault
He couldn’t take this anymore. He wanted to go home to UA, home to his students who cared in their own strange ways, home to Eri who needed him, home to Zashi who… wasn’t coming home. No matter what happened today, Zashi wasn’t coming home.
This time, it was his own fingers that signed.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
Shouta’s eyes burned, but he wouldn’t break here. Not in front of these bastards. He just kept repeating the subtle signs.
My fault my fault my fault my fault my fault.
SleepyCat. My fault.
That came very close to breaking him.
Did Zashi not blame him anymore?
Did it really matter?
He still blamed himself.
He knew who was at fault.
As expected, the “trial” sentenced Zashi to go back to Tartarus.
The two of them signed the same thing at the same time before they took Hizashi away.
Love you love you love you love you.