Work Text:
The most convenient thing about being an Underground doctor was that nobody cared to question Kai’s (nonexistent) credentials.
All people cared about was whether or not he could fix them in a timely manner, and the fact that his work left nearly no scars and little-to-no downtime while recovering was an additional bonus that only affected the size of the price tag he put on his services.
His reputation was all that mattered, and it was impeccable. He had been out on the streets since he was sixteen, sneaking in and out of the orphanage to heal any minor wounds he could find.
At first, that meant cuts, scrapes, bullet wounds, the occasional broken bone. He kept improving his skills over the years, moving to more severe injuries, illnesses and, for some reason, cosmetic surgeries.
He didn’t complain; The cosmetic surgeries were mostly requested by wealthier people who had the income to spare for such a frivolous thing. And, while bringing in almost as much as assisting with torture sessions did, cosmetic surgeries rarely if ever involved any actual blood.
If Kai hadn’t already established himself as a regular doctor, he would have switched to cosmetic edits only.
But, alas, he still had a large clientele stemming from the bottom of the criminal underbelly, and trying to extricate himself from that network would be a very unwise idea.
One day, when he saved up enough to move far enough away from Esuha, he would escape and rebrand.
For now, he split his earnings between his outrageously high rent and bulk amounts of bargain bleach.
Kai was just about to call it a day and lock up when someone knocked at the door. He sighed, hoping this would be something simple he could fix over the doorstep as he pulled the doors open.
“Yes?” He asked tiredly, voice muffled through the mask, taking in his visitor.
Visually, there was nothing wrong with him, which was the first red flag. People who were bleeding out were fast and easy; People who seemed perfectly fine were time-consuming headaches.
“Chisaki Kai?” The man asked, his long and very tangled hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head, sizing Kai up and down.
Kai found that vaguely insulting, considering the man himself was slouching, hands deep in the pockets of his jumpsuit, unreasonably long scarf bundled up all over his shoulders. He had no leg to stand on when it came to judging Kai on his perfect posture with his thrifted but perfectly clean dress pants and shirt.
“Yes.”
“You’re the doctor with Overhauling quirk.”
This conversation was quickly becoming rather repetitive. “Yes.”
The man sighed, as if Kai was being the difficult one there.
“I would like to use your services,” he managed, shifting in discomfort. Good; Maybe if he got uncomfortable enough he’d leave.
Well then, time to ramp up the irritating factor. “Yes?”
Kai was very glad to be wearing a mask as he couldn’t contain a small smile at how visibly annoyed his would-be client was getting. The hiked up shoulders, the clenched fists, the furrow in-between his brows… Kai just barely stopped himself from checking his watch to time how long he would last.
“Can you say anything other than yes?” The man asked, exasperated.
Grinning wider, Kai didn’t even care that the wrinkles around his eyes would betray him. “Yes.”
The visitor exhaled loudly.
“This was a mistake,” he muttered, and stomped away, his footsteps hitting the stairs so hard Kai almost worried the rusted metal would give out, the mesh of metal falling into the alleyway beneath them, opening up a chasm where the passage to Kai’s flat / office was…
On the other hand, his day was over; the lack of access would discourage after-hours visitors and he could always fix the stairs tomorrow.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—the stairs held up just fine.
Kai watched the man leave, disappearing over the corner. He’s never had anyone give up quite this quickly but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter much to him.
He locked the front doors, looking forward to a full night of rest.
***
Typically, Shouta had no reason to seek out underground doctors. As an UA graduate, he had free access to Recovery Girl for any injuries he obtained during hero work, or injuries which would negatively impact his work.
Which basically covered everything, except for the issue he was currently having.
Breast reduction surgery didn’t really fall under the wide umbrella of things Recovery Girl could treat; He’d know, he already tried that when he was still a student.
All Recovery Girl could offer him was a sports bra for support, and that was very much not what Shouta wanted.
So he made do with the bra and a generous wrapping of his old capture weapon, too worn to use for its original purpose, but perfectly fine to provide him with a relatively flat chest.
It was far from a safe solution and not comfortable in the slightest, but it was all he could do.
But it’s been three years now. The sports bra was decorative at best, and Shouta would rather die than go to buy a new one.
He’s been saving up for the two-and-some years he’s been a graduate hero now, but it wasn’t anywhere close to being enough for a top surgery.
Not a legal top surgery, at least.
It wasn’t something underground doctors usually did, either, but Shouta heard the rumors about this one: as long as you could pay, Chisaki Kai could use his quirk to rearrange your body in any way you desired.
If he could make women’s cleavage larger, surely he could make Shouta’s smaller?
He had been planning on convincing the doctor with his hard-earned 700,000 yen; But, of course, that required actually talking to the doctor, who seemed to have been unable to say anything other than yes and was entirely unwilling to invite him in.
…In retrospect, Shouta should have used that to his advantage, but the nerves made every yes sound like the go away it was clearly intended to be.
So here he was, on the 2 hours long train ride back to Musutafu, having wasted a quarter of his day for nothing. He leaned his head against the cool glass, tugging at the edge of his bindings he could feel over his jumpsuit as he absently wished breathing didn’t hurt this much.
…
..
.
He’d go to Esuha again, the next chance he got.
After all, Chisaki Kai was his only option.
***
Kai had almost forgotten about the weird visitor he got, the man who didn’t even stick around long enough to tell him what he had wanted.
Almost. The entire conversation returned to him with crystal clarity when he opened the doors to see the guy again.
He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. And, since it worked last time…
“Yes?”
The man hid a scowl in the folds of his scarf, but seemed undeterred. “May I come in?”
Kai rolled his eyes, but stepped back, anyway. Might as well hear him out, just in case he planned on showing up again next week.
He retreated behind his desk, pointedly ignoring his visitor politely closing the doors behind himself as Kai made sure his hard-won gun was in easy reach.
“So,” he stepped his fingers together atop his desk. “What can I help you with.”
His visitor refused to sit down, instead pacing across the room once, twice, thrice, before settling behind the visitors’ chair in front of the desk. “Gender reaffirming surgery.”
Kai blinked. “Pardon?”
“Top surgery, specifically.”
Kai hesitated for a moment. That was certainly a unique request; He did have some people request breast enlargement before, but… He couldn’t create something out of nothing. He could change anything down to the molecular level, but he couldn’t just create matter, he wasn’t a god.
For breast enlargement, he could usually pull fat from another area of the body, but with how thin his visitor was…
“I do apologize, but that’s not something I can do.”
His visitor scowled. “That was rather fast-”
Kai shrugged. “I’m not that kind of a doctor.”
“That’s not what they say on the streets.”
“Feel free to ask the streets for a pair of breast, then.”
“I’m looking to get rid of them!”
Almost involuntarily, Kai’s eyes slid from the visitor’s face down to his rather flat chest. “Right.”
The man just threw his hands in the air, scoffed and left.
Good riddance; Hopefully this was the last time Kai ever saw him.
***
Shouta would not give up this easily.
***
It hadn’t even been a full week before the scarf guy graced Kai’s doorstep again.
“No,” he said, slamming the doors in his face.
***
Chisaki being annoying was a well-working strategy to drive Shouta away.
Clearly, Shouta had to be just as annoying back.
***
“What’s your name?” Was Kai’s opening next time.
The man hesitated for a moment. “Aizawa Shouta,” he said.
“Get the fuck out, Aizawa.”
***
Shouta didn’t even get to knock the next time, Chisaki’s voice telling him to piss off! seconds before his knuckles made contact with the wood.
Shrugging, he tugged at his capture weapon - as if that was why he had a hard time breathing - and left.
At least the journey wasn’t a total waste when he could pick up a patrol or a short mission; Esuha seemed rather short on resident heroes, likely due to the long-established Yakuza presence nearby.
Shouta wasn’t complaining. Patrol was patrol, and money was money.
***
The knock came over when Kai was tidying up for the day, having already switched the sign to “closed”, which was the first clue that it wasn’t his most frequent visitor.
As annoying as he was, Aizawa was somehow the most politely relentless would-be patient Kai had ever had. He always came over during Kai’s office hours, and as often as he showed up, he always left after the first time Kai told him to.
Sighing at the idea of dealing with much less polite company, Kai raised his head. “It’s closed!”
The doors swung open anyways.
“Mh, I think you might wanna make some time for us,” a Yakuza grunt said, entering with a smirk on his face.
Kai blanched, trying hard to pretend he hadn’t. Speaking of his impolite relentless visitors-
***
Chisaki never left his doors wide open, was the first thought going through Shouta’s head as he rounded the corner.
He skipped climbing the stairs in favor of hoisting himself up with his capture weapon, ignoring how winded that made him. Creeping by the wall, he used the—now shattered—mirror on the side of Chisaki’s office to try and make sense of the situation without revealing himself just yet.
There seemed to be three suited men in the room, two of which held each of Chisaki’s arms at an uncomfortable angle, while the third seemed to be trying to intimidate the doctor, who looked entirely unimpressed, even in his disheveled state.
Shouta had a strong suspicion he knew how the mirror got broken.
He didn’t wait any longer; One against three was comfortable odds for him by now. With the element of surprise, well…
Within a minute flat, the three were nicely knocked out.
“You okay?” Shouta asked, half of his attention focused on tying up the intruders.
“I am,” Chisaki was rolling his shoulders with a grimace, moving to pull his mask back up as soon as he realized he could. “My office, however…”
“Pick up what you need.” That was the best advice Shouta could give him. “I need to call this in. I hear the police aren't very fond of underground doctors.”
Chisaki blinked at him but scarcely argued, skipping over puddles of spilled bleach to get into the backrooms.
He came back out in record time, a backpack swung over his shoulder, just as Shouta finished securing the last of the three.
“Who did you piss off?” He asked, nodding towards the unconscious men.
“Yakuza,” Chisaki spat out. “They’re not exactly happy about me being independent.”
Shouta whistled, for the lack of anything constructive to say.
Chisaki just rolled his eyes. “Yes, and thank you for calling the police on my flat. Now you just made me an even easier target, and the Yakuza even more pissed.”
“You’re welcome,” Shouta sniped back, following Chisaki out of the doors. “Next time I see you held captive I’ll simply ignore you.”
“I’m still not going to do that surgery you want.”
“Honestly? After a traumatic event like this, I wouldn’t trust you to treat a papercut.”
Chisaki snorted, pausing at the walkway leading to his stairs. “Traumatic event? What are you, a hero?”
By the way he stiffened, Shouta suspected he had connected the dots.
“No fucking way,” he turned on his heel, one finger pointed at Shouta accusingly. “You are!”
“I am.” Shouta nodded. “And, I can help you. You don’t exactly want to stay in Esuha right now, do you?”
Squinting at him, Chisaki seemed to be weighing his options. Shouta did his best to appear non-threatening.
“Fine,” Chisaki sighed eventually. “But that doesn’t mean-”
“Yeah, yeah, the answer’s still no, I get it,” Shouta waved him off. “Hang on tight.”
“What do you mea-AAH!”
It was much more efficient to use the capture weapon to get to the rooftops; That was definitely Shouta’s only reason for scooping Chisaki up.
***
The train ride passed in loaded silence. Kai didn’t really mind; It gave him time to think on his next course of action.
He was en-route to Musutafu, a good two hours away from Esuha. It was a large enough distance that the Yakuza wouldn’t find him for a while, especially if he didn’t make himself known.
It was also a ridiculously long distance to be traversing there and back every week just to hear a no.
Aizawa Shouta was the weirdest man Kai had ever met. He expected the man to pick up their months-long conversation regarding the surgery he wanted as soon as possible; He didn’t expect him to hand Kai a copy of a key immediately after inviting him to his apartment, gruffly telling him to make himself at home and that he would be back from patrol in a few hours before leaving.
To say the least, he didn’t know what to do.
So he did what he did best: he cleaned.
***
When Shouta came back to his apartment, he had to double check he got the right number.
The place was sparkling. He’s never been much of a slob, but this was a level of cleanliness he would have had no hopes of achieving on his own.
Chisaki was still awake, despite it being close to 4am, wearing rubber gloves Shouta didn’t own and elbows deep into his emptied fridge.
“You own no bleach!” Were Chisaki’s first words to him.
Shouta blinked. “Uh. No, I don’t.”
“I fixed that,” nodding to himself, Chisaki returned to scrubbing. Shouta left him to it.
***
There was an empty flat in Aizawa’s building Kai negotiated to rent, though it was small enough that he didn’t feel comfortable with using it for anything other than his temporary office.
He kept his services quiet, to avoid any unwanted attention, but he couldn’t stop working entirely.
After the third hero who came to him on recommendation, he was strongly rethinking that decision.
The fourth hero through his doors was Aizawa himself.
“No.”
Aizawa closed his mouth, dropped the bento he was carrying on Kai’s desk, turned on his heel and left.
…There was Daikon radish. Kai’s favourite.
Aizawa was so weird.
***
Chisaki was a model roommate, though perhaps Shouta was a bit biased, his only past experience at sharing a flat being with Yamada “Disaster” Hizashi.
He kept the place clean way beyond what Shouta was used to, made sure the fridge was always stocked and actually took the time to cook most days.
The only problem was that with all the cleaning came a lot of reorganizing. Which was great, usually, but not when Shouta came home injured and couldn’t find the first aid kit.
“Chisaki,” he called out into their shared bedroom, as low a volume as he could while still being audible. “Chisaki.”
“...What,” the man groaned out from his futon, turning onto his back.
“Where did you put the bandages?”
That got Chisaki’s attention fast, making him sit up straight, one hand rubbing at his eyes as the other moved to grab his mask. “What do you need those for?”
“Take a guess, genius,” Shouta said dryly, leaning against the wall as he pressed a hand against his sluggish bleeding thigh. “You don’t need to get up, just tell me where they are-”
“I’m a doctor, idiot,” Chisaki sniped, getting to his feet.
“You don’t have a license.”
Chisaki passed by him, switching the light on as he went. “Doesn’t mean I can’t fix your stupid leg.”
His original plan was to patch the cut now and swing by UA in the morning, but…Well, Shouta wasn’t going to say no to free healing.
He sat down at one of the stools which appeared next to the kitchen counter overnight, letting Chisaki examine his thigh as if there was any point to that. Shouta was honestly kind of excited to see his quirk in action, and paid close attention as Chisaki’s hand moved to rest all five fingertips on his thigh-
Only to have his back arch back as a wave of pain shot through his leg.
It took him a while to catch his breath—it took longer and longer every day, no matter the cause—and by the time he had any energy to spare for his surroundings, Chisaki was already washing his hands at the sink.
Shouta’s thigh was intact, not even a scar to mark where his wound was. He couldn’t feel even the slightest raise in the skin; No wonder the Yakuza was so desperate to get Chisaki on their payroll.
“Still want that top surgery?” Chisaki asked, looking at him from the corner of his eye, as if his answer was going to change.
“Honestly, yeah,” he nodded. Then, toying with the edge of the torn fabric, he mused, “I should get some spare uniforms.”
“My quirk only works on organic matter,” Chisaki shot back automatically, as if it wasn’t the first time he said so but the hundredth. Then, the rest of Shouta’s words seemed to register as he straightened, water dripping over the immaculate floors as he pointed at Shouta. “You did not just say this is your only hero uniform.”
Shouta said nothing.
Chisaki let out a wordless scream of frustration.
“You will pick up at least seven spares,” he warned. “And you will change them daily, and keep a regular laundry schedule. Or you’ll regret it.”
“It’s not log-”
“Or I’ll make you regret it, Aizawa Shouta.”
Shouta decided it was safer to concede.
***
Kai had been staying with Aizawa for nearly a month now.
Nearly a month of peaceful cohabitation with a hero who didn’t seem to want anything from him. He didn’t even keep pestering Kai about the top surgery that was the reason they had met in the first place. Well, Aizawa did come down to his office every day, presumably with the intention to ask, but Kai always told him to leave before he had the chance to say anything.
And he did. Every day, Aizawa left a bento box on his desk and walked out of the office without an argument.
He never tried asking outside of Kai’s working hours, either, despite the two of them literally sleeping in the same room every night.
Kai thought it would have been nice. Refreshing, even, to know Aizawa wouldn’t try to use him as a personal healer, even when he had a legitimate reason to.
Instead, he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop, until he could barely sleep at night. It wasn’t doing him any favors, that’s for sure.
To the point where even Aizawa “Catnaps” Shouta thought it prudent to point it out.
“You look tired,” he said one morning, over one of their rare shared breakfasts.
Kai, busy poking at his own bowl, pressed his fingers to his cheek, Overhauling the bags under his eyes in a practiced move.
“Does that actually do anything about the tiredness?” Aizawa asked, a note of curiosity threaded through the tired tone.
“Do you want to find out?” Kai raised an eyebrow, his hand outstretched in half-a-warning, half-a-promise.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Kai almost snorted, focusing back on his rice. But, since they were already talking-
“So when are you going to ask again?”
“Hm?” Aizawa looked up at him, confused. At least he didn’t try to speak with his mouth full, or Kai would have had to Overhaul him.
“When are you going to ask for the surgery again.”
Aizawa swallowed before looking at the clock. “Uh, in about six hours? The same time as every day.”
Kai put his chopsticks down, suddenly no longer hungry. “No,” he said. “That’s not asking. You don’t ask, you just- You bring me a bento and leave. You don’t ask.”
“You know what I want to ask, and you answer it before I can say it,” he shrugged. “There’s no point in repeating myself unnecessarily. You make it efficient; I like that.”
“It’s a no every time,” Kai’s hands curled into fists on top of his thighs, short nails leaving tiny crescent indents in his palms. “It’s a no every time, and you keep trying but you- you don’t- Do you not care? Do you not care that it's a no?”
Aizawa shrugged again, his chopsticks digging through his bowl in a transparent attempt to buy thinking time. “I can’t force you to say yes,” he said. “But, one day, maybe you’ll agree. You’re the only one who can do that, so. Unless I find someone else, I’ll keep asking.”
“I’m here right now,” Kai stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, but he could barely even hear it over the blood pulsing in his ears. His hand trembled, so he pressed them flat against the table. “Why don’t you ask me now?”
Aizawa just watched him, daring to look confused and even worried.
“You’re not on the clock right now,” he pointed out, as if that had ever mattered to anyone else. “I’ll ask again later, when you’re open for business.”
“I’ll say no later,” Kai’s tongue felt wooden in his mouth, barely managing to shape the words, but he had to push them out.
“Then you’ll say no,” Aizawa shifted his attention back to his breakfast. “I’ll still try again later.”
Kai doesn’t even notice the bowl falling until it shattered, the shards falling into a pile against the wall, the rice scattered all over the floor.
“I don’t understand you!” He yelled, hands trying and failing to grip his short hair, moving away from the table as he paced. “I’m here right now! Anyone would- Anyone…”
“You’re not a doctor right now,” Aizawa said, slowly, carefully, his hands flat on the table where Kai could see them. “You’re my roommate. You don’t ask roommates to do surgery on you.”
Kai just. Stopped.
His mind felt empty.
“Fine,” he said, just to say something. “Fine.”
He crouched by the bowl, fixed it, and left.
***
Shouta wasn’t entirely sure what to do about Chisaki’s outburst.
Should he stop asking? Should he ask more? Clearly, the doctor wasn’t used to having his boundaries respected, which.
Well, there was a reason why Shouta ensured why his current clientele consisted mostly of underground heroes and vigilantes at worst.
Maybe he would swing by Hound Dog’s office the next time he visited Hizashi and Nemuri at UA, ask him for some advice. For now though, he had a patrol to get to. He would deal with the dishes—and the fact that both of the bowls were still intact—after he came back.
***
Kai had been intending to replace his anatomy textbooks ever since coming to Musutafu, but it had never seemed like a particularly pressing issue.
Now, however, he searched three different secondhand bookshops before finding the edition he was fond of using.
This wouldn’t be enough, he knew that, but it was a start. He settled down at one of the computers in a public library, researching everything there was to know about gender reaffirming surgeries.
Aizawa did say he wanted a top surgery specifically, but who knew if he wouldn’t switch to asking for the other ones once Kai acquiesced on the first.
He would just do a full course in one go, if that’s what Aizawa wanted. And then his life would make sense again.
Most of the advice was directed at the recipients of the surgery; Kai supposed not many doctors needed to research the procedure on the internet. What little he found about the procedure though, hardly seemed applicable to him, his quirk making most of it obsolete.
Now that he looked into it deeper… It didn’t seem that difficult. Especially Aizawa’s main focus, the top surgery, was something he could probably do rather easily, if not painlessly.
There was little point to their cat-and-mouse game they played for the last half a year.
Kai could have just attempted to do it that first time Aizawa asked, and then he wouldn’t be in this situation.
He would still be back in Esuha, probably in the Yakuza complex, doing whatever they wanted him to do.
Snapping the book closed, he earned glares he didn’t notice. He logged out of the computer, gathering his papers together and leaving before he could change his mind again.
Paying attention to the unfamiliar streets—it’s not as if he had the need to visit the library before—took most of his brainpower, leaving his mind blissfully empty.
Aizawa, of course, wasn’t home when he got back. A quick glance at the clock confirmed what Kai already suspected; It was his usual patrol time.
He wouldn’t be home for several hours still, and Kai was much too worked up to sleep, so-
Deep-clean it was.
***
Shouta barely made it home.
It’s been getting harder and harder to keep up his level of activity with the bindings constantly strangling him. The flat chest was worth the pain, and he would stand by that decision, but he knew it wasn’t sustainable.
Either Shouta would find a way to get rid of his breasts permanently, or he would need to stop being a hero.
Or, third option, he’d die trying.
Scrambling at the balcony doors after nearly crashing into the glass, Shouta feared he might be much closer to that third option than he’d like.
He pulled at the doors once he cleared the threshold, hoping this was enough to close them. Collapsing the moment he was safe, Shouta pawed at his costume, hoping to unbind before he ran out of breath.
“Aisha’a?” Came from the direction of the kitchen counter, Chisaki’s voice thick with sleep as he raised his head.
Shouta didn’t respond, not having enough breath to spare.
Chisaki shot to his feet, one hand slapping the wall and, despite missing the light switch by a long shot, the light still switched on.
“Aizawa!” He called again, falling to his knees by Shouta’s side, ignoring looking for the zipper in favor of just Overhauling the whole jumpsuit. “You’re injured?!”
Shouta shook his head, but he couldn’t explain, not when slowly suffocating. Chisaki didn’t seem to want to hear any answer regardless, giving a valiant effort at unwinding the bindings before giving up on it.
“It’s much too tight!” He commented frantically, trying to sound chiding but only managing to sound panicked. “What were you even trying to do?! Choke yourself?!”
The bindings came off, revealing what Shouta had been hiding underneath.
“Oh,” Chisaki gasped, and immediately looked away to the side.
Shouta used his first full breath to laugh.
“What were you expecting?” He gasped out, ignoring the way the house smelled of bleach. It always did, these days. “I’ve been telling you I wanted a top surgery for ages-”
“I… Didn’t quite connect the dots,” Chisaki admitted, his cheeks reddening slightly, on full display as he wasn’t wearing his usual mask. “But… I can do it now.”
Shouta blinked, half-convinced the oxygen deprivation somehow caused auditory hallucinations. “Pardon?”
“I looked it up,” Chisaki couldn’t quite look him in the eye as he said that. “I’m pretty sure I can do it.”
“Alright,” Shouta nodded. He wasn’t going to say no now, if Chisaki was really offering. “And the price-”
“You let me stay in your house,” Chisaki snorted. “The least I can do is pay you back-”
“I don’t-” Shouta grabbed Chisaki’s wrists before his palms could make contact with Shouta’s chest. He changed his mind. “I don’t want you to do it if it’s just a payback. I didn’t do this to blackmail you into doing the surgery, I did it because you needed help-”
“Yes, yes, such a noble hero,” Chisaki waved him off. “Just let me do this, and then everything will make sense again, alright?”
“Chisaki,” Shouta tried and failed, and failed, until he succeeded to catch Chisaki’s eye. “Kai. Not if you feel forced to do it. I can wait.”
***
This man.
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Kai said, glaring at Aizawa. “You’ve been asking me to do this for months, and now-”
“I can wait,” Aizawa repeated, and Kai couldn't help but scoff.
“You almost died tonight!” He said. “You really can’t!”
But Aizawa still wouldn’t let go of Kai’s wrists, holding them firmly but not hard enough to bruise. Where he got that strength from, Kai couldn’t tell.
His eyes were too deep, too intense.
Kai gulped.
“It’s fine,” Aizawa’s thumbs moved gently against Kai’s skin. He half-expected hives to trail in the wake of the motion, but nothing happened. “We can talk about this in the morning-”
“Just let me do this for you, you insufferable-!” Kai cut himself off with a deep breath. “Please, Shouta.”
For a moment, everything felt frozen.
“...Alright,” Aizawa let go of his wrists and Kai gasped as if he had been the one with a bound chest, pressing the tips of his fingers to Shouta’s stomach.
He couldn’t make the process entirely painless, but he could disconnect the nerve endings to simulate local anesthesia, spreading the spare fat tissue over Shouta’s ribs and shoulders.
The whole process didn’t take longer than a minute.
He would have avoided half a year of pestering and trouble with a minute of work.
He’s not sure he would have traded that half a year for anything.
***
Shouta breathed in deeply for the first time in years, slumping with relief.
“So.” Chisaki sat down on his heels, looking vaguely lost. “I did what you wanted. What now?”
Shouta shrugged, pressing his head back against the wall. “I don’t know. I would say I’d stop pestering you at work, but I’ve been pretty much just bringing you lunch, anyway. Speaking of which, I was thinking of trying something new this week, what are your thoughts on rice and apples-”
Chisaki snorted, then chuckled, then laughed outright, shaking as he leaned forwards till his forehead rested on Shouta’s shoulder.
Raising his hand, Shouta hesitated, but decided to slowly rest it over the back of his neck, to no rebuttal.
“That’s it?” Chisaki mumbled.
“I don’t know,” Shouta admitted. “I didn’t expect to get this far, and especially not tonight. What do you want to happen now?”
“I wanted to have my life make sense again, but that’s obviously not happening.”
Shouta chuckled at the audible pout. “Is this really so bad?” He mused. “Life rarely makes sense at the best of times.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr Logician,” Chisaki scoffed, pushing himself away. “It’s too late for this. Or too early. Whichever. I’m going to sleep.”
“Good plan,” Shouta nodded, moving to push himself off the floor, only to have Chisaki haul him up by his elbow.
“And I’ll be keeping a close eye on you,” he said. “Just in case something went wrong.”
“How close do you mean?” Shouta asked, grinning at Chisaki’s confused look. “I need a shower.”
Chisaki seemed to consider this for a moment before sighing. “I suppose I could use a wash, too.”