Chapter Text
"Date of birth?"
"July 1st."
"Age?"
"Fourteen."
"Place of residence?"
...
"That means the place where you live."
...
"Look, your parents are going to find out about this either way, so why don't you tell me now so we can speed this process up, you got it?" Speaks the detective once again while raising both brows and staring with bulging eyes. All Hitoshi can focus on is the way the flourescent lights bounce off of the man's bald head. I wonder if he can start a fire by focusing the light with that shiny head of his.
...
"OK kid, listen here. You have no true influence here and you're not 'cool' or 'woke' or whatever the hip thing is these days, alright? Let the grown ups do the work and you can go play catch or something."
"I've found that human beings with the ability to form complex thoughts and feel complex emotions don't often respond well to condescending and patronising comments," says a new voice gruffly.
Hitoshi flicks his eyes upwards from his hunched over position at the interrogation table. What he sees is a tall man in a black costume, a belt secured around his waist. The man has wavy black hair that travels just past his shoulders and a grey scarf around his neck.
Perhaps it isn't grey. Perhaps it's just white that's gone slightly too long without seeing a washing machine...
"Eraserhead." The bald man nods in greeting. "I was just letting the kid know that if he doesn't cooperate soon, things are gonna get a whole lot worse for him. Look here, Shinsou. The law doesn't take kindly to vigilantes, got it? An insignificant kid like you will be behind bars, locked away with no way to get to school, no way to game away on his little mobile device, and certainly no way to hang out with his little buddies."
Hitoshi's hands clench as much as they can within the handcuffs and he opens his mouth to speak but the second man- Eraserhead- beats him to it.
"Didn't I just tell you not to speak to him in such a way? Or should I go call your parents and have them explain it to you in a simpler way that you might be able to grasp with your little hands?" Aizawa deadpans.
"How dare you speak to me that way?" The bald man seems outraged. "I am one of the superior officers at this station and I will not be looked down on by you." He huffs and puffs, and Hitoshi raises an eyebrow at the way the man's face slowly fades into a beetroot red. Santa? Is that you?
"Oh?" Aizawa asks. "So you can look down on and ridicule this-" he gestures to Hitoshi "-boy but when it happens to you, it's too much to handle?"
"That's- that's! Dif-"
"Different? Yeah right. Get out, Tsukauchi has handed this case over to me."
Hitoshi watches as the bald man struggles to decide whether to leave or to give 'Eraserhead' a piece of his mind. The second man in question takes a seat, interlocking his hands on the table and letting his tired eyes meet Hitoshi's equally heavy ones. The two hear the door slowly clicking shut.
"I'm not here to condescend you, nor am I here to cause drama. I despise drama and I find unnecessary trouble to be entirely illogical. So answer me this kid, are you being well-looked after?"
"What?" Hitoshi finally speaks, his expression mirroring his shock.
"Imagine my surprise when I find out that the vigilante wreaking havoc across town and somehow forcing criminals to irish dance in the middle of the streets until the police arrive is fourteen years old. You ought to be at home, being cared for and perhaps secretly sneaking alcohol at a party, not risking your life." Eraserhead states, eyes narrowed as he analyses Hitoshi's closed-off, anxious disposition. "I'm going to go ahead and assume that you are currently... caring for yourself." Eraserhead chooses his words carefully, understanding the delicacy of the situation. "If this is true, you may remain silent."
...
The longer the pause drags on, the more unwell Eraserhead feels. This is a kid. He shouldn't have to deal with this, shouldn't have been exposed to this way of life so young, and most certainly shouldn't have to be his own carer.
Hitoshi feels sick too. His mind is a swimming pool of black goo, thoughts floating around slowly but thickly, weighing on his shoulders like a woolen cloak. He's never been in this situation before and it can only be described as frightening.
...
"I'm not going to sugar-coat this, vigilantism is a serious crime. So, I have two options for you. Number one, you go to a juvenile detention center for 2, maybe 3 years. Or, number two, you come with me. I have a foster care license and you clearly need someone to look after you. This would invol-"
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, what?" Hitoshi interrupts. "Why- why would you do that? I'm a vigilante and I cause trouble and drama and you said you hate drama and-"
"Why are you trying to sabotage yourself?" Aizawa asks. "You've gone so long by yourself, surely you crave comfort and reassurance... so why do you sell yourself short? If you feel as though you don't deserve this, stop yourself immediately. You're a kid, not a criminal. Can I assume you'll be taking option number 2?"
"I- well it's not like I have a choice do I?" Hitoshi sighs.
"Of course you do. It's just that one of the options available is significantly more preferable. Come on, let's grab your stuff."
Eraserhead gently pulls a key from his pocket and goes to unlock the handcuffs, pausing momentarily and frowning when he sees how they dig into Hitoshi's wrists.
Hitoshi follows Eraserhead like a lost puppy down beige corridors until they reach the foyer.
"One moment." Eraserhead speaks, holding a finger up to Hitoshi. "Tsukauchi-" he calls, before walking away.
Hitoshi glances upwards through his eyelashes to see Eraserhead talking to a detective who looks startlingly similar to the man himself, only with shorter hair.
Are they long-lost twins or something??
As the hero returns, Hitoshi sees the man- Tsukauchi- holding a serious conversation with the bald-headed detective from earlier.
"Did you get him in trouble?" He asks.
"Nothing that he doesn't deserve." Eraserhead responds. "Now how about you tell me about your quirk and how you ended up doing all this vigilante shit." He asks, and Hitoshi sighs, getting into the man's car with him and starting from the beginning, Eraserhead's eyebrows furrowing in anger as he clenches the steering wheel while listening to Hitoshi's story.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
"They abandoned you because they thought that a quirk could make someone a bad person?" Eraserhead- Aizawa, as he had clarified- asks, seething with rage.
"It's whatever," Hitoshi states, turning to look out of the window.
"It's not whatever kid, this is totally messed up. You understand that right?" Aizawa asks.
Hitoshi's silence and avoidance of eye contact speaks volumes.
"You do know that, don't you?"
Silence once again. Aizawa sighs through his nostrils, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers before parking the car in front of a rather average apartment complex.
Aizawa gets out of the car and Hitoshi follows his lead, trudging nervously behind him while clutching his bag in his arms.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I live with my partner. If this is a problem for you, then I don't care. Just play nice, I'm here to look after you."
Why would I care about your girlfriend? Hitoshi thinks. It's honestly none of my business, I'm only here until you get fed up with me and kick me out.
They reach a door and Aizawa unlocks it to reveal a relatively open plan house. A kitchen to the left, with an island and stools around it. A sofa facing the wall to the right of the entrance looks onto a television, and directly ahead is a corridor with several doors either side. From one of these doors emerges a banana with a body - no, wait, that's a man with... banana hair?
"Heeeeyyyyy Shou," the man speaks.
"Hello Hizashi," Aizawa replies, placing a gentle kiss onto the other man's cheek.
Oh, I see, that's why he was concerned that I may have a problem. I may be a vigilante but I'm not an ignorant idiot.
"Hizashi, this is Shinsou Hitoshi."
Hitoshi's bold thoughts in no way mirror his disposition. His eyes are cast downwards at Aizawa's cat socks and his shoulders are hunched over, allowing him to fiddle with his fingertips.
"Hey little listener, it's nice to meet you! How about you guys get settled on the sofa and I'll bring you some hot chocolate!" Yamada suggests.
Hitoshi can only nod, his face burning bright red with the embarrassment of feeling like a little kid. Feeling safe and cared-for.
He sits on the sofa, staring at the wall ahead intensely while Aizawa types something up on his laptop. Just moments later, Yamada returns with two rich hot chocolates, coated in thick, soft cream.
Without thinking, Hitoshi signs a 'thank you' to Yamada, before his eyes widen upon realising what he'd done.
However, instead of anger or confusion, Yamada's eyes glisten with joy and he grins whilst signing fluidly 'you're welcome listener!'
Aizawa can only watch with contentment as he sees the love if his life and his current problem child getting along. Lord knows this kid needs a little love.
Hitoshi and Yamada converse through sign language a little longer before Yamada hands him a book that he claims to enjoy, leaving the room to wash some dishes.
As the sun sets through the large glass windows, Hitoshi feels his eyes drooping further with every page he reads. He hasn't experienced this kind of urge to sleep in a long time, with his insomnia and unfavourable living conditions.
His head sways and finds itself being guided into Aizawa's lap by his soft but calloused hand.
"It's okay, you can sleep. We'll still be here when you wake up. You're safe here, sleep," Aizawa speaks in a hushed tone, his voice only lulling Hitoshi further into a warm, extensive sleep.