Chapter Text
Imagine Me Without You
The relentless rain painted the world in a monotone shade of gray, the droplets merging with the tears streaking silently down gaunt cheeks. Hidden beneath the veil of precipitation, a small girl whispered to herself a mantra against the cold: "It's always cold when it rains, but I... I like the rain. It hides my tears... No one can see me cry in the rain." Closing her eyes tightly to the storm around her, she fought back a shiver that threatened to wreck a course through her petite body. Choking back her tears, she did what she usually did when it rained. She sang. Her voice, a tender melody amidst the storm, floated through the deserted streets, weaving a tapestry of sorrow and hope with each note that danced upon the air.
"We're all searching, times unfolding, trying to fill our lives with meaning..."
The song, a haunting lullaby sung into an overwhelming rainstorm, the struggles and pain of existence, seemed to resonate with the city's soul, reaching the ears of a solitary figure moving with purpose through the rain.
"Still, we're learning how to breathe amid the pain and suffering. All we need is peace of mind."
Aizawa, Shouta, known as Eraserhead to those who whispered of heroes and villains, advanced with measured steps, his senses attuned to the discordant rhythm of a villain's hopeless getaway.
"Stop running away..."
The villain's frenzied escape came to a jarring halt; his movements stilled as if by an unseen hand. From his hidden vantage, Shouta observed the source of the disruption—a young girl, her form slight and drenched, her presence an anomaly in the dimly lit alleyway.
"I... can't move?!"
There was a brief interlude before Shouta's decisive strike rendered him unconscious.
As the last echoes of the girls' melody dissipated into the night, Shouta stepped entirely out from the shadows, his tall figure casting a long silhouette on the wet pavement. "So, is that your Quirk?" Shouta asked, his deep voice breaking the stillness of the rain-soaked night. Her large blue eyes turned up and met his charcoal, almost black eyes.
"Uh-huh, it's like... I can make people sleepy or stop being mean with my singing. But it's confusing; I don't understand how it works. Learning songs takes a lot, too."
"Interesting," Shouta commented, crouching down to her level, an action that belied his usual stoicism. But who was here to judge him? "Your song... it had a calming effect on me." He watched her nervously inch back at his words. She looked worried, maybe a little afraid.
"I didn't mean to make you feel that way... it just happens when I sing. I'm sorry," her voice dropped with her apology, a note of uncertainty and fragility hung in the air.
It wasn't like he was mad. He wasn't. The girl had a talent, and while he would typically consider scolding a child for getting involved in Hero affairs, she didn't appear to be the type to throw herself in the way of danger unwittingly. Instead, she looked more like an abandoned cat. Now that he thought about it... "Why aren't you at home right now? Where's your family?" His question was straightforward, yet there was a gentle undercurrent of concern as he took in her clothes and her underweight body, the stains on them, and the bruises on her. It didn't paint the most appealing picture.
The small girl shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his inquiry reminding her of her solitude. "Well... I don't have a family. Asking that, you must not come across too many orphans."
Shouta's eyebrow raised slightly at her response. It's true; he didn't come across too many orphans. He supposed that was a good thing, though he wasn't oblivious that they were around. "Are you okay with being alone? I would think not. You seem rather closed off to the possibility of something more."
She frowned, a look of bewilderment crossing her young face. "I don't like being alone... I didn't choose this. Who would choose this?!" Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.
"Then, perhaps you should practice the art of charisma when in the presence of prospective parents?" Shouta suggested, his voice softening.
"Prospective parents? You mean, like, you? Is that what you are?" Kagome asked, a hint of hope flickering in her eyes despite her attempts to keep her expectations in check. She looked down at her hands, nervously wringing them from where they were hidden between her tummy and drawn-up knees. She tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but it hurt to try and didn't work anyway. Looking back up, she stammered, "What's your name?"
"Eraserhead," he started, then corrected, almost as an afterthought, "Aizawa, Shouta, that's my name. What's yours?"
"Kagome."
"Kagome?"
"Just Kagome. I don't know my last name... if I ever had one," she replied, her voice small, cracking towards the end.
Shouta didn't push but instead changed the question. "And how old are you, Kagome?"
She didn't appear all that confident of the answer. Even as she looked at her tiny hands and knobby knees, then down into a puddle to take in her scrawny self, "...I'm...six," she said finally, her gaze drifting back up to Shouta.
He wagered that was just a guess. She looked younger, maybe five? Though she spoke clearly, perhaps she was six. A year could make all the difference. Shouta stood, his gaze momentarily shifting towards the direction from which police lights were now visible. He looked back at Kagome, contemplating the gravity of what he was about to propose. "I'm only twenty-two and haven't thought much about starting a family, but if you're okay with how Aizawa, Kagome sounds... I'm willing to learn how to be there for you."
The rain began to lighten, becoming a gentle drizzle. Kagome felt her heart swell, tears brimming as the sturdy walls she'd built up, brick by broken brick around her heart, started to crumble.
Shouta reached out, his hand gently brushing away the tears that escaped down her cheeks. In the rain, he almost couldn't tell she'd been crying, but now, with it letting up, those tears were not so easily camouflaged. Despite his usually guarded demeanor, the sight of her vulnerability stirred something within him—a desire to protect, to nurture.
"You really mean it? You're not... just saying that? 'Cause... 'cause you seem nice. And... I think I'd like that."
Her words, imbued with hope so fragile it threatened to shatter with the slightest provocation, reached deep into Shouta's heart. He was no stranger to responsibility, but this was different. This was personal in a way he hadn't anticipated when he set out into the rain that night. "I mean it. We'll figure this out together, Kagome. I promise." As he uttered the promise, Shouta was acutely aware of the weight of his words. Promises were not something he gave lightly; they were bonds forged in sincerity and intention, meant to be upheld at all costs. He might not have all the answers—his life as a pro hero was a testament to the unpredictability of the future and what it held—but he was resolved to provide Kagome with the stability, the care, and the protection she deserved.
Gathering her into his arms, he felt the slight tremor of her body against his, her sobs a soft reminder of the immediacy of her needs—warmth, safety, sustenance, rest. As they disappeared into the shadows, away from the scene of their unconventional meeting, Shouta's mind raced with plans and considerations. He wasn't going to say he was excited. He wasn't. This was terrifying to him. He'd never taken care of anything more than the cats he brought in from the streets. Now, how was he expecting himself to be able to care for this little girl? He would need to make arrangements, ensure her well-being, and start the legal guardianship process. Pausing momentarily atop a roof, he carefully tightened his arms around the small form he held. His life was about to change profoundly, yet the uncertainty of the path ahead did not deter him. If anything, it solidified his resolve. He had many worries, but none would have him setting this girl down and turning away from her. "Let's get you somewhere warm, with plenty of food. You need to rest," he whispered, his voice carrying a warmth few had ever heard.
As Kagome nestled closer, her breathing evening out as sleep claimed her, Shouta allowed himself a rare moment of introspection. His life, defined by vigilance and the relentless pursuit of justice, had taken an unexpected turn tonight. Pulling his phone out, he texted his boyfriend, apologizing that he couldn't make it to his place tonight. He wasn't worried; Hizashi understood the struggles of being a hero and wouldn't hold it against him. For a moment, he considered telling Hizashi about Kagome, but the blonde was often the voice of reason, and feared he'd be talked out of this. No, he'd wait. For now, he'd focus all of his attention on the little girl in his arms; she needed it most now.