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Being interrupted in a meeting was one of Nezu's biggest pet peeves. Along with being interrupted when he was in the middle of a lesson. Or having his tea time interrupted. And people who talked when he was talking. But the worst time to be interrupted? In the middle of a school board meeting.
So when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket during the middle of a very important spiel, he felt himself stiffening. His phone had been programmed to ignore the first call sent during a time of meeting, so either a very brave or a very desperate soul was calling him. A glance at his phone told him it was the former.
And one of the only people he would stop his meeting for.
“Apologies,” Nezu began as he looked at the others in the room. Around the table sat the principals of the other hero schools in Japan. It was their annual meeting and one of the most important days of the year.
So why was Aizawa calling him right now?
Of all the teachers, Aizawa knew this was the last day that anyone should be bothering Nezu. He spent the month before preparing slides and various papers that would be passed out to the other principals. No one would have a better presentation than him.
“I'm very sorry,” Nezu said as he bowed to the table. “I must take this call.”
Nezu climbed down from his perch and turned toward the door. This had better be important. To interrupt this meeting meant the world had to be on fire. It better be in the middle of burning to ashes. Hell, Nezu better be the only one who could stop that fire. Even then, it could have waited until after this meeting.
Whatever this was, it had better be important.
Nezu answered the call and brought the phone to his ear. He made a noise as he tried to ignore the stares at his back. He was sure everyone would be talking the second he left the room.
“Dad, I... need you.”
Nezu stopped walking as he heard the words. He looked back at the other room and lowered the phone. Nezu bowed once again, “I am very sorry, but I have a family emergency. I will send an email to all of you with the rest of the information I was to present.”
Nezu turned back around and left the room. He gripped the phone tightly, “Where are you?”
There was no answer from the phone. Nezu glanced at it. The call was still ongoing, but there was no response from Aizawa. Nezu strained his ears to listen. No noises of pain. Faint honking in the background. No sirens.
Hmm.
Nezu hurried along as fast as his short legs would take him. He adjusted the grip on his phone, “Aizawa, can you tell me where you are?”
Still no response.
Which only worried Nezu more.
“I'll be there soon,” Nezu promised as he hung up. He immediately opened an application that would tell him where Aizawa was. It had taken months for Aizawa to agree to allow himself to be tracked. And by agreeing, Nezu meant he was going to track Aizawa anyway, so there was no point in arguing.
Aizawa decided to still argue about it.
But, here Nezu was winning that long-standing disagreement because he now knew where Aizawa was.
Upon stepping outside, Nezu made his way toward his driver. The young girl looked up at him. She pushed herself off of the car and spoke, “Finally blow off the meeting?”
“No, Aine. I have an emergency,” Nezu said as he handed his phone off to her. She studied the address before handing the phone back. Nezu insisted that he didn't need a personal driver. He could easily use the steering wheel and man the pedals at the same time.
And who needed to see the road anyway?
“What kind of emergency?” Aine asked as she opened the back door for Nezu. He hopped inside.
“I am not sure yet,” Nezu replied. The door was closed, and Aine sat in the driver's seat a moment later. “It does not involve your grandma.”
Aine nodded, and her hands relaxed on the steering wheel, “Still want the pedal to the metal?”
“Of course,” Nezu said as he grabbed his seatbelt and put it on. He gripped the seatbelt as tightly as he could. “Can you turn on the radio to Yamada's station?”
Aine turned on the radio before slamming her foot on the gas. Nezu loosened one paw and grabbed his phone. The radio was playing music, and that would just not do. No. Nezu needed more information.
There were only two reasons that Aizawa would be calling him and sounding like that:
One: Aizawa was injured and- wait. No. Aizawa would not call if he was injured.
So one reason then: Yamada or Kayama had been injured.
Which were two reasons he presumed. Unless they had been injured in the same attack. But he was getting distracted.
As the song ended, it was replaced not with another riff but with the endlessly joyous and loud voice of one Hizashi Yamada, “Heeeelllloooooooo Listeners! This is Present Mic-”
“-And Midnight-”
“-in the third hour of our twenty-four hour live stream for charity!” Yamada cheered. “Where you get to hear the voice of your favorite host-”
“-second favorite because I'm here now,” Kayama interrupted.
“Oh, Listeners, don't listen to that evil ha-”
“And every hour on the hour, you get to hear our wonderful voices,” Kayama took over as there was coughing and gagging in the background. “Every hour, we will also highlight a local, smaller charity. This particular charity we're going to highlight was started by Present Mic and I years ago.
“The Loud Cloud charity helps kids who have been displaced from their home due to abuse or other circumstances out of their control. It is named after one of our friends who wanted to be a hero but died before he could fulfill his dream. Loud Cloud was a bright light in our lives, and it is our goal to spread that light to others.
“Every charity mentioned today will receive a portion of the amount we raise, and UA will be matching that amount. So let's get to raising money!” Kayama cheered. “If you want to donate...”
Nezu listened carefully and typed the number into his phone. He waited impatiently as the phone rang. A nail tapped against the seatbelt. There was a chance that this was pre recorded. Yamada and Kayama had already recorded this, so they could have their perfect takes and make sure each charity was properly represented.
“Thank you for calling into the Put Your Hands Up Radio livestream,” a voice cheered as the phone call connected. Hmm. Nezu knew that voice. A student. One in Aizawa's class. Female. Hasn't been to his office for being a troublemaker. Ah.
“Hello, Kyoka Jiro,” Nezu greeted.
“Principal Nezu?! What can-”
“Is the radio show actually live?” Nezu interrupted.
“Yes sir! We are live for the next twe-”
“But is it really?” Nezu interrupted again. “Are Present Mic and Midnight actually in the studio right now?”
“...yes.”
“That doesn't sound very sure, Jiro.”
“They are here, Principal Nezu. I can see them from where I'm sitting.”
“That is no good.”
“Huh?!”
“Thank you, Jiro,” Nezu said. He ended the call a moment later and immediately pulled his application back up. Aizawa's location had not changed.
So what was wrong?
Yamada and Kayama were safe. They were not injured. All of Class 1-A had volunteered to work at the radio station for this charity event, and Nezu knew that for a fact because all of Class 1-A bombarded his office to ask. That child Eri was with a member of Class 3-A. Everyone close to Aizawa was fine, so what was the problem?
The police car gave Nezu the next piece to the puzzle, and he tightened his grip on his seatbelt once again.
Nezu never liked to pull up to a crime scene. There was no telling what he was about to step into, and Aizawa's four words kept bouncing around in his head. Nezu was already unbuckling his seatbelt before the car had come to a complete stop. Nezu didn't even wait for it to be in park before he was jumping out the backseat.
There was a singular cop car outside of the coffee shop. The shop itself looked untouched. The glass windows were immaculate. A steady stream of patrons were in the building. No one looked scared or shell shocked. They weren't buzzing around like they had seen the most exciting thing.
A police officer stood next to his car, and as Nezu hopped out, the officer turned to look at him. Nezu spoke, “Officer Raul.”
“Nezu,” Officer Raul greeted. Nezu glanced at the police car, and his eyes widened as he saw the man sitting inside. Passed out against the seat with red cheeks from drowning himself in alcohol was a man that Nezu was never supposed to see again.
A man who had been warned to never bother Shota Aizawa ever again.
“Where?” Nezu began. Officer Raul motioned with his head toward the alleyway. Nezu practically ran into the alley. He blinked a few times to adjust to the darker surroundings, but there wasn't much to the alley. Just a trash bin on one side, a foot that was sticking out from behind that trash bin, and a wall to signal the dead end.
And a pipe with blood on it lying near a puddle.
Nezu stopped before the trashcan and spoke, “Shota, it's me. I'm here.”
Nezu carefully stepped over the leg, not wanting to disturb Aizawa at this moment. He turned to study his adopted son, not sure what to expect. Officer Raul wouldn't have just left Aizawa there if he was seriously injured.
What Nezu saw angered him to his core. Aizawa was sitting against the alley wall. One leg was outstretched, and the other was pulled close to his chest. One arm rested across his chest, and his other hand was pressed to his face. Blood covered that hand, and Nezu was sure the damage to his face wouldn't be pretty.
Aizawa's phone was by his side. Nezu picked up the phone and placed it into his pocket. Then, he studied the blank eyes of his son. Nezu spoke, “Shota? You there?”
Nezu was no stranger to this dissociation. Spawned not from the death of Shirakumo but rather the abuse at the hands of his birth father. It would be something that plagued Aizawa for years, and he had only really gotten over it as an adult. There were still bad days, but it hadn't been like this in a long time.
“Shota, I'm going to sit by you,” Nezu warned as he sat next to Aizawa, leaving a bit of space between them. Aizawa had been aware enough to call him, and as much as it swelled Nezu's heart, it also broke it slightly. “Shota, I am going to grab your leg.”
Nezu gently squeezed Aizawa's leg. There was no response. No movement. Nezu nodded and debated his options. The dissociation could last minutes or even hours. Nezu would endure however long it took, but if it was going to be hours, he wanted his son home and warm. Not in this miserable alley.
Nezu looked back at Aizawa. Those dark orbs were lifeless. His hand still cupped his face. Was it to stop the bleeding, or did he worry that an uncovered mouth would mean his breathing would be heard? Aizawa still wore his hero costume. There were no gashes or cuts in the clothing.
“We should head home,” Nezu said as he moved toward Aizawa's side and gently grabbed the hand that rested across his chest. Aizawa’s fingers dug into his side, and as Nezu pulled the hand away, he saw no blood on the fingers. No tear in the fabric of the shirt. If he was hurt there, it was from something blunt.
Nezu's eyes drifted back to the pipe.
What was Aizawa's father doing here? Drunk if his face was anything to go by, but that man was in jail last Nezu heard. Had he been released and decided to make the worst mistake of his life by attacking Nezu's son?
And did he bring this weapon or find it on the ground? Did he come here planning on hurting Aizawa? Was it just mere, cruel coincidence that the two crossed paths? Had Aizawa been responding to a crime and ran not into a villain but a monster?
Speculation would not get him any closer to home. Nezu gently tugged on Aizawa's hand. He had no chance of pulling the man to his feet, but the tug seemed to be enough for Aizawa to follow. He slowly stood and followed Nezu out of the alley.
Aizawa's right hand stayed pressed to his face. His left rested in Nezu's paw. Not holding hands but not completely lax either. Nezu hummed as he led Aizawa toward the car, and Aine was quick to hold open the door. After sitting Aizawa inside, Aine closed the door and looked at Nezu.
“Should I call 'ma?” Aine questioned.
“No,” Nezu dismissed. The last thing Aizawa needed was sleep. Because sleep would mean nightmares. “I'll bring him to her once he's back with us.”
Aine's eyebrows furled for a moment, but she made no further comment. Just held the door open for Nezu. He looked back at the officer before holding up a paw.
“Officer Raul,” Nezu said as he walked over. The officer looked down at him. “Do you know what happened here?”
“Sure,” Raul said as he pushed himself off of the car once again. His thumb jerked back toward the bastard in his car. “Camera footage shows this guy stumbling along the street. Looked like he was going to go into the coffee shop but saw something that made him freeze up and slink to the alley. Eraserhead came out with a cup of coffee and walked by. He had to sense the guy because he turned toward him.
“A quirk or something caused Eraserhead to freeze, and the guy just rammed that pipe into his face. He got a good amount of shots in before a civilian tackled him. That seemed to snap Eraserhead out of the quirk long enough to tie the guy up. Civilian made the call.”
And Aizawa probably verged on the edge of dissociation and reality until his father was in handcuffs. Then, he found a dark corner to curl up in and call Nezu before losing his entire grip on reality.
“Was it all centered on his face?” Nezu questioned.
“Just the first shot,” Raul replied. “Every one after that was aimed at the body.”
“Thank you. Be assured we will be pressing charges,” Nezu began. And so much worse.
“I figured. Take care of him,” Raul said as he nodded toward where Aizawa sat.
“I plan on it,” Nezu promised. He turned and made his way toward the car. Aine opened the backseat for him, and he climbed inside. His first objective was to lock Aizawa's seatbelt. The next was to grab his phone and text Yamada that they needed to speak immediately. Radio show or not. As soon as the text was sent, Nezu called Yamada.
With the phone ringing in the background, Nezu studied Aizawa's face for any signs of change but saw none. And it angered him. Aizawa's father blamed Aizawa for the disaster his life turned into after his abuse came to light. When really, he should have blamed Nezu.
It was Nezu who gathered all the evidence. It was Nezu who went to the police. It was Nezu who found Aizawa's father beating him into a pulp all because-
Nezu exhaled sharply. If anyone should have been attacked today, it should have been him. But, Aizawa's father had always been a coward, going after the weaker target. And while Nezu was by no means physically stronger than Aizawa, he would not have hesitated if he saw that bastard coming out of the alley with a pipe.
No. Nezu would have torn his damn throat out.
Nezu heard the call go to voicemail. He ended it and called again.
The assault charges were easy. The hard part would be proving that this was premeditated. Because Nezu knew that the coffee place had looked familiar, but it took him until now to realize why. This was the place that Aizawa and Yamada shared their first kiss late one night.
And Aizawa's father had seen them.
What came after was a panicked phone call from Yamada telling Nezu that Aizawa had been dragged home by his father. A father that they learned had been abusing him thanks to the investigations of Shirakumo. And Nezu did not hesitate to act from there.
He just wished he had gotten there sooner.
But that must have been why that bastard was here. He drank enough alcohol to become brazen enough to go to a place where Aizawa might be. Who knew how many nights he had gone here? Did he just get lucky tonight, or had he been waiting for days on end? Nezu hoped it was the latter. It would become easier to prove intent.
The call went to voicemail a second time. Nezu ended the call and clicked on Yamada's name again. There was a voice a moment later, “Nezu, what's wrong?!”
“It took you too long to answer,” Nezu chided. He put the phone on speaker, hoping Yamada's voice would help coax Aizawa back to reality.
“Nemuri was bullying me,” Yamada whined. “And I just saw your text. What's your emergency? Run out of tea? Someone leave the sugar on the top shelf again? And yeah, I get it. 'Sugar in tea is a disgrace, Yamada. Don't ever bring that near my face again or I'll-'”
“Shota’s father.”
The other line fell silent. After a deep exhale, Yamada spoke in a clipped voice, “What did that bastard do?”
Rage smothered Yamada's voice, and Nezu quickly remembered that he was not the only one fiercely protective of Aizawa. Nezu spoke, “Shota is okay. He's just... not here right now.”
“Shit,” Yamada began. “Look, I can be there soon and-”
“No,” Nezu interrupted gently. “I can handle it, and last time, it took him two days to fully come back to us. This may play out similarly, and he would not forgive himself if you left your radio station after the month of planning you spent on tonight.”
“Are you sure he's okay?” Yamada pressed. Nezu looked back at the blood covering Aizawa's hand.
“Yes,” Nezu replied. “I will keep you updated. For now, enjoy your guilt trip.”
“It's a charity event, Nezu. Not guilt tripping,” Yamada chided. “I'll keep my phone near me. Text as soon as anything changes.”
“I will,” Nezu swore. “I am going to bring him to my place.”
“I'll be there as soon as this is over,” Yamada stated. Nezu made a face. Yamada was naturally loud. He became louder the more tired he was, and Nezu's house was a sanctum of quiet.
“I will have dinner ready,” Nezu said.
“Technically, it would be lunch when the show ends, so-”
“Goodbye, Yamada,” Nezu said as he ended the call. A glance back to his side showed Aizawa still staring ahead like the headrest in front of him was the most interesting thing in the world.
Nezu made a plan of action and edited it three more times before Aine pulled into his driveway. Nezu took off his seatbelt and did the same for Aizawa. Aine opened the door on Aizawa's side. Which made it easy for Nezu to climb over his son and grab his free hand.
It took a bit of pulling before Aizawa was following him out of the car. Nezu had to reach across himself to grab his keys, and he unlocked the front door.
“Don't bother with your shoes,” Nezu said as he led Aizawa into his house. A grimace nearly touched his lips. All of that gunk from the alley would be all over the hardwood floor. And Aizawa's clothes would be on the good polyester!
But, that was something Nezu could clean.
“Does that mean-”
“Absolutely not, Aine. Take your shoes off,” Nezu ordered. Aine huffed dramatically as she peeled her shoes off. Her eyes drifted over to Aizawa. “Will you grab my heated blanket from my bed?”
“The one five times larger than you?” Aine asked. Nezu nodded. “Got it, boss.”
“Boss implies I'm going to pay you,” Nezu stated as he started to lead Aizawa toward the couch. The hand was still slack in his, but he didn't allow himself to worry.
“One of these days,” Aine sighed before she moved in the direction of Nezu's room. Nezu put his full attention on Aizawa as he sat him down. His eyes narrowed on the blood that covered most of Aizawa's hand. There was no doubt it had trickled into the sleeve and even seemed to be soaking some of the fabric as well.
It was a simple matter to sit Aizawa down. Not so much to step away. As Nezu began to pull his hand away from Aizawa's, the grip suddenly tightened.
“I'll be right back,” Nezu promised as he looked in Aizawa's eyes for recognition. There was none. “I just want to get a rag to clean your face.”
And hand. And arm. Plus he would need to change his shirt. Oh, the mess would get everywhere.
But Nezu could always buy a new couch.
The grip did not loosen. Was Nezu the anchor that Aizawa clung to? If so, he couldn't just step away. One more favor to ask of Aine then.
“I won't go anywhere,” Nezu promised as he reached for the television remote. Upon turning it on, he went directly to his recordings and found a soap opera that he enjoyed watching. Something Chiyo had introduced him to in fact. Aizawa called them irrational, yet he always watched it with Nezu.
“Need anything else, boss?” Aine questioned as she walked toward them with the blanket. It was handed off to Nezu, and while difficult with one hand, Nezu managed to wrap it around Aizawa's shoulders. Aine plugged it in for him.
“A wet rag and a first aid kit,” Nezu replied. He was standing next to Aizawa now (with his shoes spreading that alley gunk all over his couch), adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. That hand had not let go of him, and Aizawa's other hand still cupped his face.
Aine returned after a moment with a few rags, an ice pack and a bowl of water. Nezu placed them near him and carefully stood once again. He spoke, “Thank you, Aine. You should get home.”
“I will,” Aine promised. “Take care of Uncle Shota.”
“Of course,” Nezu said with a small smile. Aine returned the smile, but it flickered as she glanced at Aizawa. “He will be fine.”
Aine nodded her agreement and left the house, leaving Nezu with his son. Nezu lifted his free paw and gently grabbed Aizawa's hand. He did not enjoy the sticky blood that he felt, but he pulled the hand away from Aizawa's face. Anger flared in his bones as he saw the damage that had been done.
Aizawa's nose had been shattered. A black eye was forming on his right side, accented by a bruise beneath his eyelid. That bruise traced across his face and down to his lower jaw. Blood covered the bottom half of his face. His lip was busted and swollen.
If there was one consolation, Aizawa wasn't holding onto any loose teeth in his hand. Nezu gripped Aizawa's bloody hand. It took a moment for the bloodied hand to return the squeeze, and Nezu gently pulled his other hand from Aizawa's grasp. He picked up the cloth and dabbed it in water.
Then, he began to clean Aizawa's face. No reactions left Aizawa. No winces or groans. Just a blank stare. Nezu kept himself contained as he continued to carefully clean away the blood. The cleaning of the blood only made Aizawa look worse because it exposed more bruises and swollen skin.
Nezu carefully grabbed Aizawa by the scruff of his neck. He gently pulled Aizawa toward him, beginning to sit as he did. There was no fighting from the man as he slumped against Nezu.
“It's okay now,” Nezu promised as he pulled Aizawa into a laying position. The blanket was still wrapped around Aizawa, but it felt like he was shivering. Nezu grabbed the ice and managed to press it against the man’s face without breaking hand contact.
Now, Nezu was wishing he had dug out Aizawa's earbuds. Aizawa could listen to his husband's radio station and maybe become grounded a little sooner. But if there was no annoying loud mouth here, Nezu would take that burden.
“You should have been at the meeting with me,” Nezu began as he gently ran his free paw through Aizawa's hair. “You would have been snoring the entire time. Not to mention Nancy. She made her font impossible to read, and it looked like someone vomited on her powerpoint.
“How can you be a professional if you put color into your powerpoint?” Nezu ranted. He continued to slowly run his nails through Aizawa's hair, being careful not to hurt him or get tangled up in the hair. “If any color is allowed, it is red, and that is only for one slide. No! One sentence.
“If the principal acts like that, imagine how the teachers are,” Nezu chided. He focused on Aizawa's breathing. There was a slight tremor to each intake, and Nezu wished he had asked for another ice pack. “And don't even get me started on that font.
“And all the words on the slide! Doesn't she know that you paraphrase what you are going to say?” Nezu continued. “And, I-”
The sudden hitch of a breath told Nezu everything he needed to know. He continued to massage Aizawa's scalp and heard another hitch of breath. The crying started a moment later, and Nezu felt Aizawa's face press against his chest.
Nezu cradled his boy and felt tears on his chest. The crying was silent, but all of the signs were there: shoulders shaking, something wet like snot hitting his chest, the tensing of Aizawa's muscles. But, Nezu didn't care if this suit was ruined. All that mattered was holding Aizawa close.
The shaking slowly stopped. Deep breaths were taken. There was a loud sniffle as Aizawa pulled away. He slowly started to push himself to a sitting position.
“Come here,” Nezu said as he gently guided Aizawa's head back to his lap. “Are you hungry?”
“How...”
“Not long,” Nezu replied as he grabbed the ice and placed it back to Aizawa's face. It took a moment for Aizawa to take the ice. “Do you want to talk about it now or later?”
“I don't...”
“Later then,” Nezu decided. He gently massaged Aizawa's scalp, trying to make him relax. “Are you hungry?”
Aizawa didn't answer, but his stomach did. Nezu smiled slightly, “Shall we order sushi? Or do you want something more warm? Donburi sounds good.”
There was a small shrug from Aizawa. Nezu moved his paw down to Aizawa's back and tried to massage the tension out of there. His other paw grabbed his phone, “I will order both. Both sound very good.”
Nezu didn't need to ask for Aizawa's order. He knew exactly what he would want. Nezu waited to hear any kind of response, and he cleared his throat, “How badly are you hurt? Is there anything that requires immediate attention?”
Another shake of the head but no verbal response. Nezu didn't need Aizawa to get back into his head and dissociate again. He was quick to pull up Yamada's radio station and thankfully, Yamada was in one of his spiels, “-and I told him not to bring home the cat! But guess what I found the next day!?”
“The cutest little furball in the world,” Kayama supplied.
“Oh yeah. So cute! Especially when she stole the cuddles that belong to me!” Yamada snapped.
“And where is that cat now?” Kayama wondered. Yamada muttered his reply. “What was that, babe?”
“At my home in her large bed like the queen she is,” Yamada said. Nezu could feel the muscles slowly laxing in his grasp. “Speaking of cats, that brings us to our next charity!”
“I'm sorry,” Aizawa whispered.
“Why?” Nezu asked as he turned the phone down slightly.
“You were in your meeting,” Aizawa muttered.
“Where Nancy almost killed me with her terrible powerpoint,” Nezu said with a shake of his head. “Pink and yellow do not belong in a professional environment.”
“Is that the one who has a crush on you?” Aizawa asked quietly. Nezu felt something like a growl leave his throat, and Aizawa made a noise almost like a laugh.
“She asked me out on a date,” Nezu grumbled. Aizawa's shoulders shook for a moment. Nezu was worried he was crying again, but he quickly realized it was another laugh. “I didn't tell you that, did I?”
“No.”
“It was horrifying. She asked me if I wanted to go out to get dinner with her, and I laughed because I thought she was joking,” Nezu explained. He could feel no more tension under his hand, so he focused on massaging out any knots in Aizawa's back. “Everyone kept glaring at me after that.”
“I saw him coming,” Aizawa whispered. His body didn't tense up again, and a bit of exhaustion tinged his voice. “I just couldn't react.”
“It's okay,” Nezu began.
“No,” Aizawa muttered. “What if Hizashi had been there? What if he hurt him, and I just...”
“The fear that man put in you will never overcome the surge of protection you would feel in that moment,” Nezu promised as he gently moved his hand to touch Aizawa's jaw. The swollen skin made him want to growl, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he placed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead. “Can you sit up?”
Aizawa nodded once and slowly pushed himself up. He sagged into the couch. A hand moved to his ribs. His dark eyes focused on the ground, but there was light there. Nezu spoke, “How much does it hurt?”
“Some are broken,” Aizawa replied. His hand slowly moved to survey the damage on his face. “I covered my face, but...”
“You did good,” Nezu began.
“I did horrible,” Aizawa muttered. “I shouldn't have frozen up. I'm stronger than him. I-”
Aizawa choked on his breath and covered his face with his hand again. Nezu grabbed his arm, “Shota, that man hurt you in ways that no father should. And you are plenty strong.”
Aizawa took a moment to lower his hand. Nezu studied the damage and grabbed the ice. He placed it on Aizawa's face as gently as possible. Nezu spoke, “You handled it the best way that you could, Aizawa. I do not want you to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I froze up,” Aizawa muttered.
“And that's okay,” Nezu said as he grabbed Aizawa's arm. “Because it's like you said, you are stronger than him. If no one came to your rescue, you would have been able to stop him. Injured or not.”
Aizawa didn't look reassured, but he didn't argue it. Nezu gently moved the ice pack and studied the damage there, “I thought he was still in jail.”
“Got out last week,” Aizawa grumbled as he looked away. “Tsukauchi called to give me a heads up.”
“I was not informed,” Nezu began.
“Didn't want to worry you.”
“I will ground you, Mister,” Nezu warned. Aizawa averted his gaze. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought I could handle it,” Aizawa whispered. Nezu moved his paw to grab the scruff of Aizawa's neck as gently as possible. He then began to massage the area. Aizawa made a noise of protest but hunched down, so Nezu could really focus on his task. “I'm pathetic.”
“Absolutely not,” Nezu shot down. He continued to work away at the tension in Aizawa's neck. It was the one place that Aizawa had always hated to be touched, and it took years for Nezu to be allowed to touch the area. Let alone massage it.
“You are the strongest person that I know, Shota. If anything, being headstrong enough to want to face that man on your own after everything he did to you is a sign of that bravery. And a bit of stupidity, but I'll lecture you about that later,” Nezu said as he continued to massage the tender area.
It didn't take long for Aizawa to end up curled up on the couch with his head in Nezu's lap once again. The ministrations continued as Nezu moved his phone closer to Aizawa's ear, allowing him to listen to Yamada's endless chatter and whatever terrible music he had chosen.
“You didn't drive, did you?” Aizawa asked quietly.
“Of course not,” Nezu stated. “You know my license was suspended.”
“Because you almost ran over an old lady,” Aizawa mumbled.
“You mean she jumped in front of my car,” Nezu retorted.
“Not like you could see.”
“Hush,” Nezu ordered, but there was no bark to his words. “Did you get to drink your coffee?”
“No.”
“Well, we must rectify that,” Nezu commented. Aizawa sat up enough for Nezu to hop off of the couch. Then, Aizawa slumped back to the couch, burying his face in the ice. His forming black eye was pressed directly against the ice. The other eye stared at Nezu's phone.
Nezu made his way to the kitchen and grabbed the coffee supplies. He rarely drank the stuff, but he kept it fully stocked whenever Aizawa stopped by. And on rare nights Nezu wanted to get wild. A minute later, the coffee was brewing.
“Would you like to watch that cooking show?” Nezu asked.
“Don't care,” Aizawa replied, which meant he very much would. Nezu started making popcorn. When the corn was half popped and the coffee half brewed, he heard Aizawa slowly get up from the couch and make his way to the bathroom.
Aizawa returned a few minutes later with his face completely clean, showing off the new bruises. His hand and arm were clean as well, and he had changed his clothes. Aizawa grabbed the ice pack and traded it out for two more. One was pressed to his ribs, and the other rested on his face.
“How are you feeling?” Nezu questioned.
“Better,” Aizawa answered.
“Good. Because you are going to stay the night here,” Nezu warned. Aizawa didn't say anything. “We're going to have dinner and spend the rest of the evening watching this cooking show. I want to see which chef will be the top.”
Aizawa remained silent for a moment. Nezu turned to check on the coffee. When he looked back, he grunted in surprise as he was swept up in a hug. Nezu hugged Aizawa back just as tight.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Son.”
And the two spent the night watching a silly American cooking show, eating sushi and donburi, and just enjoying each other's company. The two fell asleep on the couch, and when Nezu woke up the next morning, he saw a very amused Chiyo and Aine standing over them.
A picture had been taken of Aizawa curled up with Nezu. Chiyo claimed it would be good blackmail material, and Aizawa tried to threaten her to delete it before she used her quirk to knock him into another nap.
As for Nezu?
He had Chiyo send the picture to him, and that picture would be his phone's wallpaper for the rest of his days.