Chapter Text
It's a windy afternoon
Can't afford to buy my food
Or the drive I need to go
Further than they said I'd go
•••
Shouta stares at the file on his desk for much longer than he means to. It's a dreary Monday in Musutafu, far more than he bargained for. Sighing, he reaches for the file and finally flicks open to the first page.
Katsuki Bakugo
Age: 16
Contact Number: +81 03 4724 7344
Recently discovered he has Hanahaki disease. Fiery temper. Cannot identify the source of his disease.
Stage 1 of Hanahaki Disease: After a X-RAY scan, it was seen that this disease is newly blooming in his lungs. He has approximately a year left.
Medication: Pliers pills, twice daily. If symptoms of coughing blood persist, take Vermillion Syrup. If symptoms of coughing flowers increase quicker than expected, contact Dr Toshinori Yagi.
Signed,
T.H.O.
Shouta sighs and rubs at his face wearily. Another day, another painful case. He taps Bakugo's contact number on his phone and waits out the ringtone.
Somebody picks up. "Hello?" Comes a gruff voice.
"Hello, is this Bakugo Katsuki? I'm calling from the Hanahaki Office, it says here on my file that you're due for me this afternoon? I was checking in to see if you had any issues locating the centre or arriving for your appointment," Shouta explains.
There's silence for a moment, before an answer is dragged out of the patient. "No, I'll be fine getting there," Bakugo says, as if he's resigned himself to some unkind fate.
"Alright. See you soon, Bakugo." Shouta ends the call after he receives a grumbling 'goodbye' on the other's line.
Shouta steps out of his office for a bit to grab a cup of coffee, trying not to feel too awful. He's running low on sleep and convinces himself caffeine is the best route to defying insomnia. On his way to the lounge room, he crosses Enji Todoroki, who has one hand latched firmly onto his youngest son's.
"Enji," Shouta greets, nodding his head formally.
The man ignores him, favouring a deadly stare and a tightening grip on his son's arm. The boy, Todoroki, looks like he hasn't seen the sunlight for days. He's also one of the current patients at the Hanahaki Office, but he's a special case. Shouta frowns as the duo passes by without a word.
"Aizawa!" A friendly voice shouts from further ahead. It's Rumi Usagiyama, a recent employee. She's grinning widely and waving him over. "Hurry! I've made you a cup of coffee already. I've got news!"
Shouta raises an eyebrow. "News? Aren't you working in the All Might department? You should be crowded with work."
"Yeah, yeah, and I sure am," Usagiyama chuckles. "But I just heard that Present Mic's has opened again! The club has been closed for a while, but I just got a message from my friend who works there that business is running smoothly once more. We should go together. You can bring along someone else too, if you'd like."
Shouta thinks about it. "I don't necessarily have someone to go with. I can accompany you."
Usagiyama's grin widens. "Awesome! Sorry for the workload increase, by the way. I heard our department has been lobbing tasks over to yours. Doesn't make any sense, considering your lot doesn't work with permanent patients."
The reference itself makes Shouta frown. 'Permanent patients' are those who inevitably die, either from not having enough money for the Hanahaki surgery or choosing to pass away rather than give up their love. Sometimes, Shouta wonders what his own choice would be if he ever got Hanahaki disease. He never knows the answer. "Yeah," Shouta mumbles. "It's fine. We can deal with the workload so far. I'll meet you later then?" He stands to leave, a cup of unfinished coffee still in his hand.
Usagiyama's face falls a little and her brows furrow. "Oh, yeah." She jumps up quickly, both of them parting ways. Shouta knows she probably noticed his change of mood after mentioning the permanent patients. He doesn't care.
Entering the peaceful atmosphere of his office once again, Shouta settles onto his chair and watches the clock patiently. His new patient, Bakugo, should be arriving very soon. Shouta contemplates how the session might go; yelling, screaming, crying, gushing. It depends on the person. Some patients are overly lovesick, others are anxious or angry, and some just want to sit down and bawl their eyes out because of their predicament. Shouta blames none of them.
Soon enough, there's three banging knocks on his door. Usually, his patients tend to be a bit more cautious. Nonetheless, Shouta knows it's his patient, because nobody else has any need to come bother him.
"Enter," Shouta says at a practiced volume.
The door to his office opens and in steps a kid with spiky blond hair and raging eyebrows. Shouta blinks slowly. The kid huffs. "You Aizawa?" He grunts.
"That's me," Shouta sighs. "You must be Bakugo Katsuki, correct? Come in."
Bakugo trudges in like a boy who has never learned manners, yet could just as easily beat someone in an etiquette competition. His clothes are not cheap, but the style is unbefitting of a rich snob's. He appears confident, but there is an obvious weight on his shoulders that he can't escape. Shouta analyses all of this until the moment Bakugo sits down opposite to him and meets his gaze.
"Well then." Shouta clears his throat and flicks through Bakugo's file. It's a single page, but just looking at patient files makes his head ache. "You've got a case of Hanahaki disease, as I'm sure you've been told and informed about, again and again. Any idea why you were referred to me?"
Bakugo snorts. "Aren't you supposed to know that?"
"Oh I do know the reason, I'm just wondering if you know it too," Shouta counters.
Bakugo's mouth pinches into a snarl. "What the fuck do you mean? I'm here because I have to be. That's all I fucking know. And that it's for... Hanahaki."
Shouta nods. "Very well. I'll clear some stuff up. You're specifically here with me because I'm a Hanahaki specialist, meaning I have counselled many patients like yourself and speak with them about their options regarding their treatment. I also allow patients to open up to me if they need to. It's important that they get things off their chest. I'm instructed to find the core of a patient's Hanahaki. In other words, I need to know who the patient desires; the cause of their Hanahaki, let's just say. Then, I help patients follow up on their various choices after that."
"So, you're a therapist." Bakugo leans back on the chair, looking fed up about something. "Stupid."
"This isn't stupid, Bakugo." Shouta knows the sudden seriousness in his tone is surprising, especially when Bakugo actually deems it shocking enough for a minor reaction. "Hanahaki disease is very serious. The matter is life or death. And for a young man such as yourself, I'd really rather we avoid the death option." Shouta picks up a pen and clicks it. He lets a small smile twitch his lips upward. "Don't be afraid. I promise you, I've seen my fair share of embarrassing cases."
That seems to bring a little more colour to Bakugo's face. He shakes his head. "I don't even know who it is," he admits, frustrated.
Shouta hums. "Yes, your file said the same. It's okay, we'll figure it out together, how about that?"
Bakugo blinks up at Shouta, then narrows his eyes. He doesn't reply, expression assessing and thoughtful.
Shouta continues. "So, you have a year left. Nothing fun to hear. Luckily, there's heaps of medication to support your health. We also have residency in here for patients who'd rather not be in public while coughing up flower petals. Please, inform me if the coughs ever produce blood or some strange liquid. It could be a sign of faster infection, a possibility that the Hanahaki is acting up and speeding the process of its growth. Which would be very bad, essentially. At some point in time, your health may weaken to the point where permanent residency here is required. But my hopes are that we can find your beloved before it's too late or have you pay for the surgery."
"Unfortunately, the surgery does cost a lot. I heard from your parents that it isn't much of a problem for them to pay, except that they'd rather you think about your options carefully. The surgery does, after all, remove the root of your desires, and in some patients, even causes memory loss of that particular person. All in all, it's a shitty situation to be in. I'll try my best to get you healthy, happy, and home again, but nothing can be guaranteed." Shouta finishes explaining, quickly scanning Bakugo's face for any overwhelmed reaction.
Bakugo just stares back at Shouta, looking somewhere in between even more frustrated and confusedly relieved. "Okay," he says.
Shouta decides to take this as a good sign and pulls away from his desk, stretching his legs out and thinking hard. "Do you know which route you're willing to pick at this stage?"
"Probably the stupid surgery," Bakugo mutters. "But..."
Shouta understands all too well. "It's difficult, pondering the what ifs and endless possibilities of one action. That's why it's best that patients are given time. Besides, you know you are in love, even if you're not sure with who. If you forget about that person... well, you're unsure how it would affect your life. This is not an easy decision, Bakugo, not by any means. You do, of course, have an option that is considered incredibly depressing but sometimes the most fulfilling depending on the individual; you could not do anything and just let yourself pass."
Bakugo flinches. "That's fucking stupid. Who does that?"
"Patients who end up rejected by their beloved have no chance of getting healed because their love will forever be unrequited. Their only option then becomes surgery. But oftentimes patients don't want to lose the memories they have with their beloved. Thus, they choose... something that's hard to imagine even accepting," Shouta finishes, a sombre touch to his voice.
The room becomes quiet, filled with a soft sorrow that neither of them face head on. Then finally, Bakugo says, "Beloved." Shouta looks at him, tilting his head inquiringly. "You keep saying that. The patient's beloved this, the patient's beloved that. It's... cheesy, but in an odd way."
Shouta finds himself rolling his eyes, but he cracks a smile despite it. "Maybe a little, but it's honest."
Bakugo just nods. "So, what do I have to do now?"
"Do you want permanent residency? I wouldn't recommend it, as your state of health right now is better than most. You're only on Stage 1 of Hanahaki. You can sign up for temporary residency, or maybe start taking your school classes at the All Might department. There's caretakers for both permanent and temporary patients there. Asides from that, I need to write up a routine for you, equipped with medicine, our session times, group therapy classes, and sort out any extracurriculars you may have. Do you do any extracurricular activities?"
Bakugo wrinkles his nose. "Yeah. After school I go to baseball. I have a team and everything. I don't want to quit on baseball if I can help it."
"Everything is temporary, Bakugo. You'll have to take time off to give your diseased body a break. Your lungs are occupied with giving life to a flower, lessening time for proper breathing." However, Shouta just jots down notes. "Anything else?"
"No. I have baseball after school Tuesdays and Thursdays. And about the residency thing... I'm gonna pass on that. Also, did you seriously say group therapy?" Bakugo makes a face.
Shouta's eyebrows go up. "Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Yeah, I do. I'm not doing any fucking group therapy. I don't need to listen to a bunch of depressed assholes talking about their... beloveds."
Shouta sighs, raising a hand to swipe over his face tiredly. "Well, unfortunately for you, group therapy is so highly recommended that I won't let you pass it off, I'm afraid. It's going to help you a lot, and it's not, as you say, 'a bunch of depressed assholes talking about their beloveds.' It's a healthy therapy technique to socialise with others in similar situations as you and support each other as a whole."
Bakugo grumbles something nonsensical under his breath. "Fucking fine, whatever."
Shouta closes Bakugo's file and begins writing in a notepad. "We'll have weekly sessions every Sunday. They'll go on for longer than this one. For now, you can continue baseball, but I'm recommending you to drop either your Tuesday or your Thursday class. You're instructed to take two Pliers pills daily to keep down the coughs, but if you find your mouth gathering blood, take Vermillion Syrup. Again, if anything is out of the ordinary, come see me. If it's an emergency, contact Dr Toshinori Yagi. I'll write his number down here for you."
When Shouta is done writing up everything for Bakugo, he hands the sheet over. Bakugo grabs it, unnecessarily rough, and stomps out of the office when Shouta initiates his leave.
Shouta slumps back down on his chair, then puts his face in his hands and groans. He's exhausted. Suddenly, he remembers he has plans with Usagiyama, and brings his head back up to send off a text to her that he'll be off soon.
Just one patient to go.
•••
Twenty minutes later, a young girl with a brown bob enters. She's wearing a soft, pink dress and a nervous smile.
"Hi, is this Aizawa's office? I'm Uraraka," she says.
Shouta nods. "This is my office, yes. You must be another new patient they've given to me. Strangely enough, I didn't receive your file."
Uraraka lets out a jittery laugh. "Sorry, yeah, I was with Gunhead before I was referred to here. I asked Gunhead if he could keep my profile private. I want to let myself do the explaining, you see."
Shouta cocks his head. "Alright," he allows, slowly. "I see. Gunhead... That's interesting."
"How so?" Uraraka sounds offended on his behalf.
"Gunhead doesn't really know me. I don't think I've ever had a patient of his referred to me." Shouta shrugs. "Always room for more, I guess. Never mind that. Sit down and let's get started."
Uraraka smiles. "Oh, okay." She seems sensible, but possibly too tentative. Her eyes dart around the room like she doesn't trust where she is.
"You have Hanahaki disease?" Shouta checks. He honestly didn't get a single piece of information on her.
"Yes," Uraraka says, nodding her head, smile fading. "I have it at Stage 3 now. It feels like it's racing to Stage 5. I'm not sure what to do anymore."
"Do you know who it is?" Shouta asks gently, trying to soften the blow of his own shock at realising she was already so far ahead in the stages of Hanahaki. Stage 3 meant having only about a few months left.
"Yeah," Uraraka answers, awfully quiet. "And I'm ashamed of it. I wish I wasn't, but I am."
"Ashamed of... your beloved?"
Uraraka's cheeks go pink. "It sounds bad, I know. It's just that... getting the disease made me break up with my boyfriend. Izuku was the best boyfriend I could've asked for, but... it didn't work out. Evidently, I fell for someone else. It was crazy to come to terms with that. At first, I had no idea... I was completely in denial. It's thanks to Izuku that I can even admit this aloud now. He really is the best."
Shouta almost isn't sure what to say. "Ah," he says. "That does sound... troublesome."
Uraraka laughs, but it comes out sounding pained. "It certainly is. The person I love... she's beautiful. She's everything this world has to offer, if not more. But she's... not well."
"Not well?" Shouta leans forward. "Please, don't let me stop you. I won't judge."
Uraraka's smile returns, just the slightest bit. "Thank you. As I was saying, this person is not well. She might currently be, uhm... locked up. In the hospital."
Shouta raises his brows. "Right. Why, exactly?"
"She killed a bird," Uraraka confesses. "She killed a bird then brought it to me and laid it on my front doorstep. The next day, news came that she was being hospitalised for BPD."
"Borderline Personality Disorder?"
"Yes." Uraraka draws in a shaky breath. "I'm a psycho, aren't I? How can I love someone exhibiting such strange behaviour? I don't know either, I really don't. Except I know that I can't help loving her, and sometimes, I don't want to stop."
Shouta lets his head droop, thoughtful and silent for two whole seconds which feel weirdly prolonged. "I understand." Uraraka looks up in surprise. "From an empathetic point of view, I understand. I've had many patients facing similar issues. It's tough. I'm sorry."
Uraraka's face melts into a teary expression. "... Have you ever been in love, Mr Aizawa?"
It's Shouta's turn to be surprised. He meets her gaze with shock on his face. "I can't say for sure," he says. "Nothing lasting, anyway. It's a beautiful experience, from what I understand."
"It is. It's so, so beautiful. I wouldn't wish Hanahaki on anybody, but I won't deny that loving someone so much feels as good as it hurts."
When Uraraka leaves that day, Shouta feels like the roles have been reversed.
•••
"Took you long enough," Usagiyama comments cheekily when she sees Shouta finally leaving the Hanahaki Office building.
"Sorry, busy day," Shouta huffs. "Where's this club you're talking about? Who's the friend?"
Usagiyama giggles. "Present Mic's is the coolest club on these streets, Aizawa! It funds for the LGBTQ+ community and has some fun underground artists performing. My friend is a drag king and he has a show every Monday and Friday there. He's really awesome — though hopefully he won't be too much for you."
Shouta offers Usagiyama a small smile. "I'm sure it will be an enjoyable experience."
"Are you queer yourself by any chance?" Usagiyama asks politely, or as politely as one can.
Shouta decides to relax, taking comfort in the knowledge that Usagiyama is an open lesbian. "Yes, I am. I don't put a label on it, but I've had attractions here and there to both sexes."
Usagiyama's eyes twinkle excitedly. "Wait, really? That's so cool! I mean, I don't know why, I just didn't expect it. Well, well, well, if it isn't the secret Casanova, Mr Aizawa!"
Shouta laughs. "I wouldn't say that."
"Oh trust me, we'll get along great," Usagiyama expresses. "I hope you like drag! My friend's drag name is Hawks, by the way. I don't lie when I say he's a charmer. I absolutely adore him."
As they trek onward, Shouta spots a bright, flashing neon sign that screams 'Present Mic's' in capital letters and points to it. "I assume that's where we're headed?"
"Yup!" Usagiyama practically cackles. "Time to get drunk and dancing!"
Shouta shakes his head. "I'm afraid I won't make for a good dance partner. I prefer to stay on the sidelines, although I won't refuse a few drinking games. I'm quite skilled at them."
"Oh really?" Usagiyama says in a tone that Shouta knows means she's considering challenging him. "We'll see about that then, Mr Hotshot!"
When they get to the door of the club, a security guard looks them up and down with a grin. "Miruko! And a new friend, I see."
Usagiyama just laughs, while Shouta looks curiously between them. "Hey Fat Gum," she greets brightly. "This is my colleague, Aizawa Shouta."
The security guard, apparently Fat Gum, clicks his tongue. "Nice to meet you, but you'll need a stage name to pass!" He says, and Shouta isn't sure if he's joking or not.
Usagiyama seems to take it as a joke, replying playfully, "Aw, give him a pass this once, Fat Gum!"
"Nope, Present Mic says all his guests must come equipped with a special stage name! In case of any sudden karaoke contests, you know. It helps keep up anonymity," Fat Gum supplies.
Shouta speaks up, "Alright, then call me Eraserhead. How's that?"
Fat Gum seems surprised, but then he chuckles and steps aside. "Interesting name. In you come, Miruko and Eraserhead!"
Usagiyama shoots Shouta her own puzzled expression, but then she's also grinning and entering the club without a care in the world. Shouta follows behind her, trying not to crash into any sweaty drunkards along the way. Usagiyama strings him toward an unoccupied seating place, lined with red seats and a nice black table. They sit down and Usagiyama gestures toward the bar in view from where they were lounging.
"This is my favourite spot," Usagiyama declares. She props her feet on the table, mostly careful not to let her sleek black dress roll up. "We have a brilliant view of the stage and of the drinks. See over there? That's Present Mic! The owner of the club, obviously. Nobody knows his real name, but the deal is that he doesn't know ours either. Neat, right?"
Shouta just shrugs. He hasn't decided if he quite likes the place yet, but admittedly Usagiyama's mood is contagious. "It is neat." Before he can say anything else, Usagiyama is waving over a girl with white hair and a pair of glasses that were now sitting wonky on the bridge of her nose.
"Fuyumi!" Usagiyama calls out, clearly very excitable.
The woman, presumably Fuyumi, looks back and her face lights up with glee. "Rumi!" She cries out, rushing over with a large smile. "Hey, how are you?"
"Great, and even better now that you're here!" Usagiyama says kindly.
Fuyumi blushes. "Geez, stop saying stuff like that, Rumi. Move over, let me meet your guy."
"He's not my guy, silly! This is a colleague of mine, Ai- Eraserhead." Usagiyama nods over to Shouta.
"Nice to meet you!" Fuyumi greets.
"Nice to meet you too," Shouta replies. "What should I call you?"
"Oh, nothing," Fuyumi giggles. "You can call me Red Ice if you want, but that's just a fun nickname my brother recommended me, mostly so I could be permitted entry."
Shouta hums in understanding. The three of them sit and talk for a while, ordering cocktails while Shouta settles for a shot of whiskey. Suddenly, the stage lights flash.
"My brother is performing tonight," Fuyumi says with a sweet giggle. "I can't think of a better way to spend tonight than being here and supporting him."
Usagiyama smiles softly at Fuyumi, and Shouta watches as they shuffle closer together. Interesting.
There's a voice on the speakers that snaps Shouta away from his thoughts.
"Hello everybody! This is Present Mic!" Present Mic hollers over the speakers. "Is everyone ready to have a blast?" Excited shouts and delighted screams respond to him. "Excellent! Now please, a round of applause for each of our performers today! First up, the band, Legend of Vengeance!"
Cheers erupt from the woozy crowd as the curtains onstage pull apart to reveal the grungiest band Shouta has ever seen. Admittedly, he hasn't seen too many.
The singer is a hooded guy with blueish hair, and the guitarist has more tattoos than one can count. The bassist is dressed as a lizard, the keyboardist is a buff woman, and the drummer looks high on weed, sporting a vertical scar on his forehead.
"That's my brother!" Fuyumi chirps happily.
Shouta blinks at the band blankly. "... Which one?"
Usagiyama looks like she's about to burst out laughing. Fuyumi huffs and just points to the one loaded with tattoos. "The guitarist. He goes by Dabi."
"Ah, okay," Shouta says. He's not one to judge, after all.
The band has a very alternative taste in music, loud and clashing and harsh on the ears. Some people seem to heavily enjoy it, but others, like him, prefer to mingle and chat rather than focus on the earache-worthy performance.
"I'm going to refill my drink," Shouta utters as the next song of LOV's starts playing. The girls just nod and shoo him off. Shouta struggles through the tightly packed crowd for a few horrible seconds, before finally emerging on the other side, unharmed. Feeling victorious, Shouta takes a deserved seat at the bar and sighs with relief.
Then a face pops up next to him, and it takes Shouta a few seconds to recognise the guy, but eventually he realises it's Present Mic, the owner of the club itself.
"Hey!" Present Mic says, grinning as he whips out a cup and readies a bottle of alcohol. "What can I get for you?"
Shouta almost misses the way Present Mic's eyes scan over him. "A shot of whiskey," Shouta murmurs.
Present Mic offers a smile. "Coming right up!"
Shouta wants to look away and focus on LOV, but he's suddenly invested in staring at Present Mic's back. Present Mic's muscles move smoothly under his white shirt as he works, long blond hair let loose, silky and glistening in the club lighting. When he turns around and passes the shot of whiskey over, Shouta immediately downs it in one go.
"Whoa, thirsty much?" Present Mic chuckles.
For some reason, Shouta can feel himself heat up. "It's been a long day," he just says, wondering why the owner slash bartender is even conversing with him.
"I bet," Present Mic hums. "Are you new to my club?"
Shouta considers lying for a moment, then decides against it. "Yes."
"Ah well, it's a pleasure to have a new face around." Present Mic grins and leans closer, surprising Shouta and causing him to startle backwards. "Enjoying the band?"
"Um, yeah." Shouta spares a quick glance to the stage. Dabi, Fuyumi's brother, is performing a chillingly skilful guitar solo. "They're good."
"Yeah, we get a lot of talented people," Present Mic huffs, grin growing wider. "LOV may look a bit scary, but they're exceptional. Do you like drag? We have a drag king on tonight that this crowd adores."
"Oh yeah, I've already heard. My colleague brought me here and she's friends with the drag king you talk of — Hawks, right?"
"Oh! Yes, that's right. You're friends with Miruko? That's cool." Present Mic refills Shouta's glass without being asked to and pushes it forward again.
Shouta downs it speedily again. "Yeah. I should probably head back to her and Red Ice."
Present Mic's lips twitch. "Sure. But wait, I never got your name." He tilts his head, looking amused and surprisingly charming.
"Eraserhead," Shouta answers, less reluctant than he had thought he would be.
Present Mic laughs, then corrects, "No, your real name."
"Why should I provide you with that information when nobody even knows your real name?" Shouta counters, eyes narrowed.
Present Mic seems shocked for a moment, before smiling easily and replying, "Touché."
Shouta deems that as the end of their conversation, slipping off the stool and returning to his seat at the table with Fuyumi and Usagiyama. He feels a funny itch under his skin, almost as if there's something left undone. Shaking his head, Shouta brings his focus back to the stage, only to realise LOV has finished their show.
"I'm so proud!" Fuyumi is squealing, practically in tears. "Did you see Dabi, Miruko? He's awesome!"
Usagiyama laughs loudly. "He's very cool, Red Ice. I can't wait to finally meet him. I am meeting him, right?"
"Hmph, definitely! He promised he'd come around and meet you," Fuyumi declares with a pout. She looks toward Shouta and smiles brightly. "You should meet Dabi too, Eraserhead. You work in the same centre as Miruko, so surely we'll be seeing more of you, yes?"
Shouta doesn't want to bring down the mood, and he can tell from Usagiyama's subtle glare that she fully expects him to agree. "Of course," Shouta replies, smiling politely.
Fuyumi claps her hands cheerfully before screaming at the top of her lungs to catch Dabi's attention. The tattooed guitarist is zigzagging through the crowd and gives his sister a tired glare. "I'm here, I'm here," he spits out as he gets to their table.
"Touya!" Fuyumi shrieks happily.
"I told you not to call me that here," Dabi snaps, glare hardening.
"You did so well!" Fuyumi praises, ignoring his snappish words. The smile she gives him is full of sisterly love and affection. "It was so cool!"
"Thanks," Dabi grunts. His eyes dart to Shouta and Usagiyama who watch their interaction with neutral expressions. "I thought you said you had one friend."
"Yes, that's Miruko, but today she brought along one of her colleagues, Eraserhead," Fuyumi introduces them, smile still plastered firmly on her face.
"I see," Dabi mutters. He's polite enough to nod at the two, before turning his attention back to Fuyumi. "Do I really have to stay?"
"Yes! You promised you'd hang out with me tonight. Besides, I've heard the drag king here is a blast to watch! He's also Miruko's friend, so why not?" Fuyumi grins.
Dabi sighs. "Fine. I'll stick around for a few more performances, but I'm not pulling an all-nighter at Present Mic's."
"You and your immediate dislike for everyone," Fuyumi says, sighing as well. "I'll be really thankful if you stay!"
Dabi bows his head. "I said fine, didn't I? Move over."
The three of them make space for Dabi, and so Shouta ends up sitting next to Usagiyama on one side while Fuyumi and Dabi sit on the other side.
"I think Hawks's performance is soon," Usagiyama tells them, bouncing excitedly in her seat. "Gosh, it's been so long since him and I hung out. I've been working my ass off and it has limited time for things like this. Don't you agree, Eraserhead?"
An image of Present Mic's grin is replaying in Shouta's head. "Sorry?"
"The workload!" Usagiyama whines. "That centre never lets me relax. I love my job, I really do, because I'm helping as many people as I can, but it's so stressful!"
"Oh. Yes, I agree. It can get overwhelming. We have to stay strong, though."
Usagiyama turns serious and nods determinedly. "Certainly. I'm not letting any of my patients down."
Dabi and Fuyumi look confused. "I never did ask what your job was..." Fuyumi giggles nervously, looking at Miruko expectantly.
"Oh... it's a bit undercover," Usagiyama responds, eyes glinting guiltily.
"Oh, okay." Fuyumi shares a look with Dabi, who shrugs and goes back to acting bored.
The lights flash and go red, a telling sign that another performance is about to begin. Usagiyama lets out a relieved breath, then squeals in excitement as Present Mic's voice announces, "Arguably the most popular performance at Present Mic's... Ladies and gentlemen, this is the one and only fantastic drag king, Hawks!"
Shouta doesn't expect the crowd to get any louder than when LOV was performing, but evidently he's proven wrong as the crowd goes absolutely insane, hollering and screeching and some people even throw themselves at the stage, getting caught in the restricting arms of security guards.
Hawks enters the stage and Shouta has a hard time not admitting that the drag king is eye-catching. He immediately draws in everyone's attention. With a charming smirk and a pair of wonderfully large faux red wings, Hawks catwalks to the front of the stage, dressed in a compression shirt and baggy pants.
"What a stunning sight," Hawks remarks, voice buttery smooth. He sounds teasing, like a long-lost friend rather than a performer introducing themselves. "Musutafu, you look so beautiful in this light. I've never been happier to hear that Present Mic's has outlasted a lengthy makeover. And now I'm back! Funny story: A student of mine who's studying fashion has recently put Present Mic's label across a few magazines. Who's excited?"
The crowd pulses with energy, overjoyed and flowing with jitters. Hawks laughs in their faces, open and gleeful. "I know, I know," Hawks says.
A random person amongst the rest shouts, "Who's your student, Hawks!?"
Hawks grins. "He's a young guy, a total sweetheart. His name is Tokoyami, but that's all I'm giving you."
A round of playful groans go around the room. Present Mic himself is just laughing, amused at Hawks's presence in the same way that Usagiyama seems to be. Fuyumi's cheeks have coloured and she looks surprised. Dabi, on the other hand, has maintained his facade of boredom. Shouta notices the clench in Dabi's jaw and the minimal flicker of his eyes, latched onto Hawks as if he's not just a mere spectacle anymore. If Shouta is to bet, he would say that Dabi looks interested in Hawks, if anything.
As Hawks delivers a few more words, puns, and sexual innuendos, Fuyumi leans close to Usagiyama and whispers, "So... he's cool."
Usagiyama giggles and Dabi's attention turns to them as she replies, "Yeah, he is. Trust me, he's a great guy. People love his stage personality just as much as his usual one — mostly because they're one and the same, except maybe less hyper all the time."
"Hawks is an applaudable performer," Shouta comments agreeably.
"You really think that?" Dabi huffs suddenly. Shouta simply nods.
Usagiyama's gaze pounces on Dabi. "What do you mean?" She gapes, offended.
"Hawks is stuck in his own little world. He's rich, pretending this rundown bar is enough for him. He's not an underground artist anymore. Isn't he associating with assholes like Endeavor now?" Dabi sighs, leaning his head back and directing a glare at the stage. For a moment, he startles as, at the same time, Hawks's gaze moves to their table. "Stupid bird..."
"Sounds like you've got a crush," a voice chuckles, surprising all four of them seated at the table. Present Mic causally walks over, smirking teasingly and pulling his hair up into a ponytail. "It's always the ones we tend to deny or want to hate."
Dabi snorts, looking angry now. "What the fuck? No. That's not it." He shoots a glare at Fuyumi. "I'm leaving."
Fuyumi blinks, worry creasing her face. "Ah, okay then. Text me when you get to your apartment?"
"Yeah, whatever," Dabi grunts, hoisting his guitar and ignoring everyone else there as he takes his leave. His eyes follow Hawks's figure on stage for two seconds too long, and then he's gone.
"Funny fella," Present Mic comments with a hint of a smile. "Miruko, Red Ice, hmm... Eraserhead." He acknowledges each of them with a cheeky nod.
"Why'd you say that?" Fuyumi mumbles, groaning at the scene that they had just endured.
"Because Dabi needs someone who confronts him head-on," Present Mic answers bluntly. "He's been eyeing up Hawks ever since they entered the same entertainment spot. League of Vengeance enjoys performing here, even if the band never admits it, and whilst Hawks may be getting smartly wealthier everyday, his drag king soul thrives at its birthplace."
"How insightful of you," Usagiyama giggles. She seems to have been invested in the tension.
"Dabi doesn't hate Hawks," Present Mic states simply, shrugging. Then his gaze goes to Shouta, who suddenly finds it hard to swallow. "We meet again!" Present Mic says, lips forming into a grin.
"Unsurprisingly," Shouta mumbles, bringing the empty shot glass to his mouth before pulling away awkwardly.
"Refill?" Present Mic asks with amusement in his voice, tilting his head just so, as if to tease.
"Yes, please," Shouta replies, inwardly cursing himself as he hands the shot glass over, letting their fingers brush along with the action.
Present Mic is smirking when Shouta meets his gaze again. "I'll be right back," the owner and bartender promises. Shouta's responsive 'thanks' is lost as Present Mic hurries off.
Usagiyama lets out a low whistle. "Wow Aizawa- Shit, sorry, Eraserhead. Ahem, flirting with the bartender now, are we?" She teases jokingly. Fuyumi joins in with a slight smirk of her own.
Shouta manages to keep down his blush, for the most part. "It's nothing serious," he murmurs. But his hand still tingles at the brush of Present Mic's fingertips. "Does anyone know his name?"
Usagiyama looks confused for a moment, before she guesses, "Present Mic?" Shouta nods. She snorts. "Not that I know of. I'm sure if you asked him super nicely and got to know him he would though."
Shouta considers this. "Probably." He knows that should be the end of it, but a part of him continues to wonder.
When Present Mic returns with Shouta's shot glass filled to the brim, Shouta decides to go for it. "If I tell you my real name, would you tell me yours?" Shouta tries, making sure Usagiyama and Fuyumi are immersed in their own conversation.
Present Mic's eyebrows go up in pleased shock. "Well..." He smirks. "Why do you ask?"
Shouta's heart rate quickens as he shrugs and responds, "I'm just curious."
"Ah well, no can do. I'll need a better reason than that," Present Mic says with a chuckle. But he looks lenient, almost interested, as he leans forward. "Maybe I can give you my number and we can figure out how the whole name reveal will go together?"
Shouta swears he's never been this sweaty from a simple exchange of phone numbers before. "Uh, alright."
Present Mic's responding grin is ridiculously bright.
•••
"You what!?" Usagiyama screeches. She's too drunk for this but so is Shouta, his tongue too loose and brain too fuzzy.
"I exchanged numbers with Present Mic," Shouta repeats.
"You're joking!"
"I'm really not."
"That's awesome! I never thought Present Mic would just give his number away to a random customer? And a new one, no doubt!"
Shouta shifts on the spot, shrugging and ignoring the tingles that swamped his body all of a sudden. "We want to figure out each other's real names," he explains, cursing himself for sounding so silly. "What I mean is..."
Usagiyama just laughs. "Oh, forget it! I'm too drunk for this. But I promise you, from tomorrow onward, I won't stop pestering you until I find out what's sparked between you two." She cackles, clearly amused at the unimaginable possibilities probably flitting through her mind.
"Just get in the taxi," Shouta grumbles. He helps her into the backseat before waving her off. "I'll take the next one."
"Aww okay," Usagiyama mumbles, thankfully allowing this and informing the taxi driver of her apartment's address. "See you later, Eraserhead!"
Shouta watches the taxi drive off, the echo of his faux name following him all the way home.
At least an hour later, right before Shouta's head is ready to hit the pillow and fall asleep, he receives a message. It feels as if all his exhaustion fades away as he reaches for his phone, heart rate strangely escalating.
It's only Usagiyama. Shouta blinks. He tries to ignore the tiny voice in his head whispering his disappointment.
Usagiyama has texted him a short inquiry, one of those questions that seem to have hit her a little late: "Why did you say Eraserhead?"
Shouta knows what she's asking. He considers lying, a pang in his chest making it hard for him to imagine ever spilling the truth. But some part of him feels guilty; Rumi Usagiyama is a good friend, and it seems that she will be a constant presence in his life from now on.
So, Shouta replies with the truth: "It was a nickname from when I was young."
Her response is instant: "Oh? Any reason why they chose to call you that in particular?"
Shouta chuckles and texts back: "Yeah. I had a nasty glare. Other kids said I scared them off with it. A friend told me it's like I erased their thoughts with a single turn of my head apparently."
The last message he receives from her before they doze off is: "That's fucking hilarious. By the way, you still have that glare." The winky face emoji paired with it is both mortifying yet incredibly friendly.